[Fade up on a beautiful landscape. Vast green plains are seen, with big and mighty trees spread all over the location. The sky is blue and no cloud can be seen. Butterflies are sitting on the countless flowers. Birds are singing and the silent sounds coming from the nearby river add to the impression of this being the most peaceful place on earth.] VO: Peace and freedom. The highest goods in our modern society. Let your mind be free. Forget your pain, your fears. Just sit there and think. Enjoy the melodies in your head. Kick off your shoes, put your feet up. Enjoy. Just enjoy. [All of a sudden, thunder is heard and the sky, quickly followed by the rest of the scene, transforms into a seething black mass, that in no way can be compared any longer to what we've just seen. The trees are bending in the storm that came from nowhere, birds and little animals are flying and running across the screen in order to find a secure place. A little bit of colour is again added to the scene, as a pair of two piercing red eyes becomes visible, which grow bigger and bigger. The menacing eyes are staring a hole through the screen, as the unearthly, growling voice of Deathbringer is heard:] DB: Until tonight you thought you had no reason to be afraid of me. You thought I would not hurt you, as I am just a shadow of my former self. But tonight you will regret that you thought this way. You will regret to have been here tonight on the day that soon shall be known as the "Bloody Saturday" in the history of the IIWF. From this day forth, I shall rule supreme in this organisation. And from now on, I will make sure that you, prepared or not, will meet your maker! [A flash hits the scene and everything goes white. The opening graphics explode onto the screen:] ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/...hour one...\........|...|.......|....| LIVE! IIWF Coliseum, Portland, Oregon 25 April 1998 [The opening graphics fade through to interior shots of the jam-packed IIWF Coliseum, fireworks shooting out from either side of the huge video wall above the entranceway at the head of the aisle and streaking up into the rafters above above the ringside enclosure, seemingly triggering further fireworks, and sending a rain of white sparks down into the ring. Finally, flames shoot up from each of the four corners of the ring from pyros mounted on the ringposts. Huge pop from the twenty thousand plus fans crowding the floor seating and filling the mezzanine, lining the entire arena. Over these scenes comes the voice of veteran announcer, Tim Dross:] TD: Welcome everybody to Portland, Oregon! Welcome everybody to the home of the world's number one wrestling organisation! Welcome everybody to the IIWF Coliseum! [Big pop as more fireworks erupt above the ring, showering sparks down towards the fans in the floor seats, huge explosions and flashes of light momentarily illuminating even the dark corners of the cavernous Coliseum. Dross continues:] TD: Welcome everybody to IIWF Saturday Night -- on the night when the IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, Steve "the Fury" Kowalski, is set to defend his title against "Sychosys" Joe Petrow! [The opening riff of "Bad to the Bone" by George Thorogood and the Delaware Destroyers rings out over the P.A. system. The camera focuses on the entrance curtain.] TD: And now, time for remarks from two of the biggest stars to touch down in the IIWF in recent months, Caleb Temple and Gunnar Gaines. SR: I sense an explosion here, between the would-have-been tag team champions and... well, any number of people... TD: Gunnar Gaines building a LONG list of enemies, and Caleb Temple? Well, he just got here and already has two in Black Watch. SR: Count ME in as a member of Black Watch, too. I've been to the club and _seen_ the delectable ebony coloured skin of a naked negress... mmm-mmm-mmm. Better than a plate of Southern biscuits. Well... not better than Chelsea's biscuits, but still pretty damn good. [Dross shakes his head... and the crowd pops negative as two men walk through the curtain -- Gunnar Gaines and Caleb Temple. Gunnar walks with bravado, a bit of a smirk on his face. Temple walks with a bit of a smile on his face as well. They stop about four feet in front of the ramp, look to the curtain...] TD: What's this? [...and out steps a man in a hooded black sweatshirt, the hood concealing his face. But what people _really_ notice is the kilt the man is wearing.] TD: Oh, dear. An explosion is right, Steve Roberts. SR: Those Scotsmen wear _nothing_ under those kilts. There's nothing to hold it back if he farts. Explosion, indeed. TD: Is that a real Scotsman? I highly doubt it. [Gunnar and Temple reach the ring. Then Gunnar sits on the second rope, allowing the kilted and hooded man to step inside the ring. Music fades...] GGG: Well, Portland... I just _know_ you've been having the same problem I've been having. You have to sit through hour after hour, day after day, and aeon after aeon of the babblings of the Brothers Macbeth, and you _can't understand a damn thing they're saying!_ [Portland being Gunnar's town, there is a bit of a face pop for him.] GGG: This is an age-old problem that's dodged a solution for what seems like forever. [Caleb mouths some words to Gunnar.] GGG: You're right... it's their _interviews_ that seem like forever... the problem's lasted even longer than that. Oh well... my mistake... [Caleb nods.] CT: That's okay, Brother Gaines. Understandable. GGG: Yeah -- unlike a Black Watch interview. Anyway, Gunnar Gaines put his mind to this seemingly unconquerable problem and came up with an _answer_. You know how wrestling federations have the Spanish announce team, the Japanese announce team, the French announce team, and their Hottentot announce team? Well, say hello... to the IIWF's new ENGLISH announce team! [He gestures at the hooded man... who clasps his two hands together and raises them in a "winner" motion, shaking them to one side in the air, then the other. Gunnar gives a Grizzly Grin and a thumbs up.] GGG: That's right. We have a new ENGLISH announce team... a team of one. Oh, but he'll be more than enough to help everyone comprehend the obsolete medieval leftover known as Scottish. He's a scholar through and through, having wasted _years_ of his life on that bleedin' tripe so that YOU don't have to! CT: I can't wait to see him work, Brother Gaines. GGG: And neither than I. That's why we're not going to wait for those yellow-hosed skirt-wearers to come out here and blow each other's bagpipes. No... we'll give you some translations RIGHT NOW! Cue the tape from Monday. [Gunnar pulls a remote out of his pocket, points it at the big screen, and hits a button.] TV: [Andrew Macbeth] Gaines an' Temple, or Baddest Stanks Reekin', or wha'e'er th' Jaysis yis call yuirselves, I'm sure yis had visions o' title belts dancin' in yuir wee pin-heids tonigh'. [Gunnar hits pause. He holds the microphone up to the hooded man (HM), who speaks in a faint brogue.] HM: "Gaines and Temple, or Baddest Thangs Running, we'd like to call you Jesus. You had visions of winning the titles and rightfully so. We bow down to your obvious supremacy." GGG: Yes, yes, of course. I see now. CT: Truly amazing. This man has a gift from God. [Gunnar hits play.] TV: [Andrew Macbeth] I'm sure yis thought yis could jus' walk in t' th' IIWF, an' in t' th' Black Watch's tag team division, throw aboot a wee bit o' tough talk aboot how yis were sae great back in th' Poughkeepsie Recreational Hardcore League or wheree'er, an' trick tha' moron Petrow in t' grantin' yis a shot. [Gunnar hits pause. He holds the microphone up to the hooded man (HM).] GGG: Translate, please. HM: "You came into the IIWF and faced Black Watch and threw us about and then kicked us in the bits and pieces. You were so great in the Extreme Wrestling Association. Please tell us more about it. Petrow is a moron and he does tricks on the side." GGG: Didn't you always suspect, Caleb? [Caleb nods, grinning. Gunnar hits play.] TV: [Andrew Macbeth] Och, we're sae, sae sorry t' tell yis this, laddies, but I'm afraid it's no' quite tha' simple. Tha' bollocks may work in th' bush leagues, but yis're in th' Double Eye now. [Gunnar hits pause. He holds the microphone up to the hooded man (HM).] HM: "We are two sorry lads and also I am afraid we are simpletons. Please work your balls against our bush and become in league with us. This is the only way we can conquer the Double Eye with you here." GGG: True, true. But disgusting. [Caleb makes a face. Gunnar hits play.] TV: [Duncan Macbeth] Y'see, tossers, th' Black Watch decided... are ye listenin', Danny-boy? WE decided tha' yis were no' FIT t' be th' IIWF Tag Team Champions! [Pause. Gunnar holds the mic up to the hooded man.] HM: "We, Black Watch, have decided we want you to toss our salad because our Danny boy at home just burst. We also decided to stop you from becoming the tag team champions because we knew we would never be able to get the belts as long as you had them." GGG: [shaking his head] Sheesh. Another lewd offer. Get it straight, Butt Watch. The Baddest Thangs Running don't swing that way. Roberts even SAID it. We're not "gay guys" like the rest of the tag team division. Go back to propositioning your beloved "Sweetcheeks" and his buddy, the "Universal Ass Probe," as you so affectionately called them. [to the audience] You folks want more? Or are you already smelling the haggis these guys are cooking and deciding, like us, that you aren't particularly impressed by the taste? I tell ya, it's sure not something that _I_ want to explore further. CT: Steve Roberts really WAS right about the tag team division in the IIWF! [Mixed pop with LOUD cheers and equally loud boos.] GGG: I thought so. But here's a taste we ALL can enjoy. The taste of defeat for Black Watch. You want us next week? You got it. You want us at Birthday Bash? You got it. All Spreadbury has to do is sign it, and we'll _be_ there. CT: And if he DOESN'T sign it, we'll be there anyway. Reference Temple's Law and Grizzly's Law. GGG: Why? Because we're the Baddest Thangs Running. BOTH: Beat _US_ -- if you can! ["Bad To The Bone" kicks in again over the PA system as Gaines and Temple showboat in the ring. Gaines moves over to the ropes and makes an obscene gesture towards the broadcast table. The shot pans down to the table itself, at which are seated the bald-headed Tim Dross, dressed in his customary IIWF blazer, and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, who wears his trademark leather jacket over an official "Birthday Bash '98" t-shirt.] TD: Well, inflammatory comments from Gunnar Gaines and Caleb Temple to get things started off here tonight, and we're set for an explosive night of action, live from the IIWF Coliseum here in downtown Portland, Oregon! Howdy, folks: I'm Tim Dross, and beside me, as always, is my broadcast colleague and tag team partner, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. SR: It's all about the Soundbite, baby dolls. TD: Not tonight, Steve Roberts. Tonight is all about the tremendous World Championship match we will see as our main event later on. The fightingest IIWF World Heavyweight Champion of all time, Steve "the Fury" Kowalski, battles another of the IIWF's champions: co-holder of the World Tag Team titles, "Sychosys" Joe Petrow. SR: Fury-Petrow part three, right here on free TV. What the heck are the suits thinking about, Dross? TD: It's certainly got to be one of the biggest matches of the year, that much is for sure. Tonight will be the third time Kowalski and Petrow have squared off one-on-one. It was at last year's Birthday Bash that these two superstars first met in a wild "audience participation" match which, in a bizarre turn, saw Petrow win the Cruiserweight Championship from Kowalski. Fast forward several weeks to that huge Coronation Clash tournament to crown the new IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, and the two men faced off in the "Final Four" round of that event, with Kowalski coming out on top. Now, nearly one year on, Kowalski is a two-time IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, and Petrow has tasted tag team gold. SR: And tonight, under locked door rules, we get to see the deciding match in the series, Dross. And I got two words for ya: Skull. Pump. TD: That very much remains to be seen, Steve Roberts. But you are correct when you state that this match will be fought under locked door rules -- so if any IIWF wrestler interferes, they will be suspended indefinitely. Whatever happens in our main event tonight, it will involve just two men: IIWF World Heavyweight Champion Steve Kowalski, and IIWF World Tag Team Champion "Sychosys" Joe Petrow. SR: Okay, now tell us about the filler matches, Dross. TD: There's no such thing as a filler match on IIWF Saturday Night, Steve Roberts. In addition to our huge main event, we will find out who will be the second pair of semi-finalists in the on-going tournament to crown a new Intercontinental Champion, as "Savage" Shadoe Rage battles Harlequin Tragedy, and the "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner faces Christopher Stonebreaker. Plus don't forget that we have two more second round matches in the "King of the Cruisers" tournament, tonight pitting former IIWF great Tiger Claw... SR: Dirty, low-down sell-out. You have to love that in a guy. TD: ...against the "Iconoclast" Sean Watts, and current IIWF athlete "Sanguinary" Steve Manning against the notorious "Playboy" Ronnie D. Two tremendous matches tonight, and the final two semi-finalists will be determined tomorrow night in the sold-out Tokyo Dome, as the SJPW celebrates its first birthday in style. On behalf of the IIWF, we send our congratulations to that fine promotion in the land of the rising sun... SR: ...where old champions go to die. TD: There's no need for that, Steve Roberts. SR: Aw, come on, Dross. We're talking about the land where Ike Sampson can kill a woman and then eat a hot dog and walk free -- hey, what happened to that junkie anyway, did he get deported? -- and the land where Dan Kauffman can be legitimately considered a real talent. TD: Dan Kauffman is one of the IIWF's all-time greats, Steve Roberts, and latterly a legend in Japan. SR: And, inexplicably, he still sucks. TD: Let's not go there. Incidentally, we have quite the star-studded crowd in attendance here tonight, folks. Young rookie, the "Vagabond" Chris Staley, has positioned himself in the crowd to make sure he is here when Deathbringer strikes -- and as you heard at the top of the show, Deathbringer has big plans to turn tonight into "Bloody Saturday" -- and we are also lucky to have Steve Sampson, a superstar all over the world and especially here in Portland, with us tonight. [A brief cut shows the familiar scarred face of Steve Sampson as he talks to the suit-wearing officials on either side of him. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Folks, in addition to those four tournament matches and our huge main event, we will see the self-appointed "lethal enforcer," Serge Annis, take on Charles Scheffield, plus tag team action as the Down Boys, who are set to leave the IIWF following Birthday Bash, kick off their "It's Fun To Be Unemployed Tour" by facing the NorthPac Coalition. Both of these teams have been highly successful in Japan, and we should be in for an exciting match in just a few moments -- just as soon as Gunnar Gaines and Caleb Temple leave the ring, that is. SR: They're still up there?! Give me a break. [The shot cuts back to the ring, where Temple and Gaines continue to showboat for the crowd, along with their somewhat impassive hooded compatriot, who simply stands there in his kilt. One unappreciative fan lobs a full soda into the ring, which is nimbly caught by Gaines. The Grizzly one takes a slug of the drink, and then spits it out in disgust. Yelling something about it not being Woodgrain, Gaines hurls the cup back into the fans. Suddenly, there is a disturbance at the head of the aisle, and "Bad To The Bone" cuts out. A number of suit-clad officials, as well as the ubiquitous orange-shirted security staff, emerge from the curtain, apparently trying to restrain somebody or something.] TD: What's going on here...? It's the cousins Macbeth! The Black Watch are out here! [The two burly Scotsmen tower over the officials doing their best to hold them back. Both attired in their ring outfits, Duncan and Andrew Macbeth cut an imposing presence at the top of the aisle, as Duncan raises a previously unseen cordless microphone to his mouth, and alerts the Baddest Thangs Running to their presence:] DM: OY, TOSSERS! [Big heel pop for the arrival of the Black Watch. In the ring, Temple and Gaines turn to face the aisle, Gunnar beckoning for the Scotsmen to come down to the ring.] AM: Sweet Jaysis, look at this.  Wee Gunnar Gaines an' Caleb Temple, re-enactin' th' "Gimp" scene from "Pulp Fiction." DM: Aye, cousin, 'tis a sad sight.  Th' next thing ye ken, they'll take th' hood off, an' pretend 'e's Ned Beatty. AM: Well, afore ye wankers go on back t' th' locker room an' play "Shenandoah" with each other, 'ere's a wee thought fer yis. DM: Birthday Bash 1998.  Right 'ere.  Ye two sorry excuses fer a tag team, versus Th' Black Watch! [HUGE crowd pop!] AM: An' yis can go on aheed an' name yer stipulations fer th' match... but ken ye this: no "Rub-a-dub-dub, Three Men in a Tub" match, now. DM: 'Cos we're too busy in th' IIWF keepin our freckle t' th' wall as it is. AM: Now, ye've wasted far too much of our time as it is.  We've got bones t' shatter an' tendons t' shred.  Yis tossers has three weeks tae write oop yer wills.  Until then... DM: PISS OFF! [The fans give a big heel pop as the Macbeths depart, shrugging off the largely-redundant efforts of the security staff who try to hold them back. Gaines looks to Temple as the Black Watch disappear back into the locker rooms, and gives a big Grizzly Grin. The two murmur conspiratorially with the hooded man beside them, and then leave the ring together, Gaines pointing at his temple as he passes the broadcast table at ringside. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: So a challenge is laid down for Birthday Bash, Steve Roberts -- and it looks like Gaines and Temple will only be too happy to oblige. SR: I hope those Scottish morons know what they're letting themselves in for, Dross. We've seen it time and time again since Gaines got here: he's one tricky customer. The Macbeths may have just bitten off more than they can chew. TD: I'm sure we'll have more on this potential match very soon, Steve Roberts -- and indeed, we should very soon have more news concerning Birthday Bash, possibly right here tonight! But right now, folks, it's time for our opening contest, as the Down Boys go up against the NorthPac Coalition. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Down Boys vs. NorthPac Coalition |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: Mark Stone [The camera opens on Sparkplug Lee, who makes his way up into the squared circle, obviously searching for his cue cards with a frantic motion of his free hand, before pulling them out of his blazer pocket.] SL: The first match of the evening is a tag team encounter with a ten-minute time limit. Introducing first.... [The theme music of Down Boys, Warrant begins to play over the public address system, and a large portion of the crowd lets out a solid pop for the duo.] SL: Accompanied to the ring by Awesome T, at a total combined weight of 457 pounds, here are, from Miami, Florida and Malibu, California, "SUPERSTUD" ADAM PETERSON, "DAZZLING" DAN OLIVER, THE DOWN BOYS!!!! [The camera takes a quick shot of a well-built man with blond hair and a scarred face seated at ringside between two suited officials.] TD: Incidentally, folks, you may have noticed that we have a special guest here at the show tonight -- none other than Mr. Steve Sampson, one of wrestling's most renowned figures, who is being courted by the IIWF currently. I'll try and get some comments from Mr. Sampson at the conclusion of this match. [Sampson seems to show a little interest in the two men, getting caught in some sort of conversation with the two gentlemen seated on each side of him. The camera view then changes back to show the Down Boys in their black Discordiac t-shirts coming down over the waist of their long tights] SR: That just shows you how important this encounter is to anyone of even the slightest importance to President Spreads. TD: Well, someone who is obviously going to take interest in this contest is Joe Petrow. SR: And you notice 4M isn't paying too much attention. [The trio head down toward the ring, slapping a number of hands before the Down Boys head up the steps, and they draw a solid pop when they cartwheel themselves over the ring ropes and into the ring.] TD: Sometimes, Steve, family actually means something to some people, and that's exactly where McArthur is. SR: I'll remember you said that when you decide to talk about Black Watch. SL: And their opponents.... [The music of "In the Meantime" by Spacehog begins to play over the speakers, and the pop remains fairly solid for the two robed individuals who step out on the entrance walkway, immediately behind them is the figure of Tom's twin brother, Tim.] SL: Hailing from Victoria, British Columbia, and Kyoto, Japan, at a total combined weight of 450 pounds, "CONSTABLE" TOM TURNER and AKIRA SAITO, THE NORTHPAC COALITION!!!! [The three men have a small conversation at the entranceway, before finally heading down toward the squared circle, as the camera once again turns on Sampson, who this time has turned his attention to the arriving trio, and nodding in agreement as one of the "suits" says something to the man.] TD: Obviously Sampson having some interest in the match. SR: If you had to choose between watching action in the ring or listening to the suits, which do you think would be your choice? [As the camera gets back to the ring, the Coalition members have already gotten themselves in the ring, and the official is able to keep the two teams in separate corners of the ring. The Turners and Saito exchange high-fives, before Tim drops down off the ring apron, while Awesome T and the Down Boys continue their strategy session in the ring. The official finally gets T out of the squared circle, as Lee drops down to the ring floor as well, and Saito and Turner remove their robes as Peterson climbs himself out to the ring apron. After a couple more moments, Turner also exits the ring, leaving Akira and Oliver in the squared circle.] TD: And we're ready to get started. I'm looking forward to a fine Japanese-style match here. [The two men go for a lock up, and Oliver quickly takes the Japan native over with an armdrag, and as Saito gets up to his feet, Oliver comes up with a standing dropkick that puts Saito right back down to the mat. Saito however, doesn't stay there as he quickly pops back up to his feet, but "Dazzling" applies a armbar, and drives Saito back to the ropes, and passes the tag over to Peterson. Oliver fires Saito across the ring, as Peterson makes his way up the ropes, and as Saito comes off the far edge of the ring, Oliver drops down to the mat, allowing Peterson to come off with a leaping leg lariat, that puts Saito back down to the mat once again to another solid pop of the crowd. A cover by "Superstud" only gets a two count, as the referee is distracted as he waits for Oliver to climb out of the ring, and he is late in starting the count. Peterson pulls Saito back up to his feet, and drives the wrestler back to the corner, before firing the man hard across the ring. Peterson charges in and makes his way up the midriff of Saito signalling with his finger waving in a circle in the air, before tossing Saito over with a high monkey flip.] TD: Quite the athleticism from Adam Peterson here, Steve Roberts. SR: You want to see athleticism, Dross? You should see the home movies me and Chelsea have knocked up... TD: Uh, thanks but no thanks, Steve. [However, Saito comes off the monkey flip, and lands on his feet to another pop from the crowd. Saito then races himself into the ropes, and as Peterson gets part way up to vertical stance, Saito leaps over top of the man with a sunset flip, taking Peterson over for a pin attempt.] TD: We have a cover! One... two... ["Superstud, however is able to push himself out of the pin at the two count, but as he gets to his feet again, is taken over by an over the shoulder armdrag, and this time it's Saito who applies the armbar and quickly pulls the man over to the NorthPac corner, where the first tag exchange between the partners is made. Turner comes into the ring, as Saito releases the arm bar, and the two men apply a double wrist lock on each of the arms of Peterson before connecting on the man with a double chop that drops the Down Boys member to the man. Turner applies a quick cover attempt, but the referee is only able to get the two-count before Peterson kicks his way out.] TD: Close, but no cigar for the NorthPac Coalition there, Steve Roberts. I've been impressed by the work ethic of Turner and Saito -- they took a tough loss to the Black Watch last week, but here they are once again going toe-to-toe with the Down Boys. [Turner stands Peterson up to his feet, before driving a knee down into the back of the leg of the wrestler, dropping the man to a half-kneel. Peterson is right back up to a vertical stance however, before Turner reapplies the knee to the leg, yet again, Peterson pushes himself back up. The "Constable" pushes Peterson into the ropes, before firing off a loud palm blow to the t-shirt covered chest of "Superstud". Turner then fires Peterson off across the ring, and on the return trip, Tom takes the wrestler down with a double leg takedown. Turner quickly grabs the back of the leg of Peterson and drops an elbow to the exposed limb.] TD: Sound strategy here in isolating a body-part, Steve Roberts. SR: I isolated a body-part once, Dross. TD: Really? How'd that turn out for you, Steve Roberts? SR: Best weekend... nah, only kidding. It sucked. Literally. TD: I don't think we need to know any more. [Turner wraps the leg of Peterson up in a leg lock spinning toe hold, before falling backwards to the mat, trying to stretch the hamstring of "Superstud" out. A tag is made again by the NorthPac members, and Saito climbs himself into the ring. Another elbow drop is made to the leg of Superstud, and Akira takes over on the man with a leg grapevine. Akira then hoists Peterson's leg up and drives it knee first into the mat, before breaking the grapevine manoeuvre. The official gives Saito lip service in the way of a warning, but Saito pays it very little attention as he pulls Peterson up to his feet, and locks the good leg of Superstud up and Saito takes the wrestler over in a single leg bridging snap suplex.] TD: Oh my! What a suplex from Akira Saito -- and into a pinning combination! It could be all over right here! SR: Oh, dear God, please. [Peterson however, refuses to stay down, as again, he is able to get out, this time just before the three count sliding out of the pin attempt. Akira looks over at Tim outside the ring with a mild look of disappointment on his face, before pulling the man up to his feet. Akira launches Peterson across the ring, but misses with a lariat and Peterson comes off the far ropes with a flying cross body block that puts Akira down to the mat, but the pin opportunity doesn't even get to the one count, as the Japanese wrestler is out of the cover as soon as the official hits the mat.] TD: Smart wrestling from Saito here, Steve Roberts. SR: Are you kidding? Smart wrestling would be to just walk the hell out of here and let us get onto the real matches. TD: This is a tremendous technical encounter, Steve. SR: If I want a technical encounter, I'll go see a lawyer. Hey, where is Brenda Hawkings, anyhow? [Peterson quickly rolls himself over to Oliver and to a pop from the crowd, the rested Down Boys member hits the ring with a quick boot to the chest of Saito as he gets up to his feet, before being driven back to the ropes. Oliver drives Saito across the ring, and connects with a beautifully placed leaping spinning elbow to the jaw, dropping the NorthPac'er down to the canvas. Big pop! A cover attempt by Oliver gets a two count, before Saito again is able to kick out of the pin attempt. Oliver draws Saito back up to a vertical stance and levels him with a hard chop to the chest which forces Saito back to the ropes. "Dazzling" keeps his distance, and as Saito turns himself around, and walks right into a standing dropkick from the Down Boy.] TD: The Down Boys rallying here, Steve Roberts. These two men demonstrating just why they captured the IIWF World Tag Team Championships a couple of months back. [Oliver and Peterson trade tags once again, and the two men end up in the ring at the same time, and they lock Saito up for a double suplex, and connect with the manoeuvre. "Dazzling" drops out of the ring, and the referee falls into position as Peterson applies a pin attempt. Again, however, the cover is unsuccessful, this time as Tom Turner hits the ring to break the count with a boot to the shoulderblades of Peterson. "Superstud" comes up to his feet, and turns his attention on Turner, but the official is already there, escorting the man out of the ring.] TD: Turner with the save there, Steve Roberts. SR: I have no comment at this time, Dross. TD: That has to be a first. SR: I'm not paid by the word, Dross. If I don't want to talk about this damned match, I won't talk about it. [Peterson then turns his attention back to Saito but the quick wrestler drops down under the grab of the man and rolls himself over to Turner to make a clean tag. Turner hits the squared circle, but is taken over immediately by another armdrag takedown, and Peterson and Oliver decide to follow suit as they again trade tags. Peterson drives Turner into the ropes and launches the wrestler across the ring, and this time the duo connect with a double clothesline on Turner. Oliver drops a quick cover attempt, but once again the NorthPac avoids the loss with a quick kick-out, as the official only gets the count just past one.] TD: Interesting to note that the NorthPac Coalition make a point of kicking out of potential pinfall situations just as soon as they can -- as if every second counts. [Oliver pulls Turner right back up to a vertical stance, and drives the man into the ropes, again firing the twin across the ring. This time, as Turner comes back into the centre, Oliver connects with a leaping head-scissors takedown, and "Dazzling" rolls it up into a cradle pin attempt. Big pop!] TD: Oh my! What a move from Dan Oliver -- and we have a cover! [Turner is able to push himself out of the pin, without the assistance of Saito, who has entered into the ring. The oriental star quickly climbs back out of the ring at the escape, but not soon enough to avoid a quick word from the referee.] TD: Official Chuck Sanders stamping his authority on this match, Steve Roberts. [The official however, remains focused on the two men in the centre of the squared circle, as Oliver again pulls Turner up to his feet, and connects with a European uppercut that staggers his opponent back to the corner. Oliver then follows in and fires Turner across the ring to the far corner, but the Canadian climbs himself up to the second rope before coming off with a leaping spinning forearm smash on the charging wrestler. A cover attempt by Turner is broken up by Peterson and the official is forced to get the extra Down Boy out of the ring. Turner and Saito exchange tags, and as Oliver gets up to his feet, Turner locks the man around the neck and takes him over with a Russian Leg Sweep, and Akira comes off the top rope with the "TNT" elbow drop, and the official drops down into position for a count, but once again, the pin attempt is broken up by the partner of Oliver, preventing the three count.] TD: Dan Peterson with the save, and the Down Boys are still in this thing, Steve Roberts. We're seeing some real textbook tag team action in this match. [This time, Turner has apparently had enough, as he hits the ring, catching Peterson with a running dropkick that drops Peterson to the mat. The official unsure what to do at the moment, apparently pulls Turner off of the melee as Akira pulls a rising Oliver down into a cradle and holds the man there, but the official is distracted getting the Constable out of the ring. Peterson drops a double axehandle down on the exposed back of Akira, this time, however, the official has broken away from Turner, and is now ordering Peterson out of the ring. Akira regains his focus at the moment, and motions to Turner, who comes into the ring as Saito hoists Oliver up into a vertical suplex. Turner then fires off a dropkick on the exposed form of "Dazzling" Dan, and Akira falls back with the suplex. Saito rolls himself out of the ring, as Turner drops down for a cover attempt, and as the official finally gets himself back around, begins the count.] TD: Oh my! We have another cover... one... two... no! So close! [Oliver somehow manages to push a shoulder up to a roar from the crowd, as Turner just stares almost in disbelief. Turner pulls "Dazzling" up to a vertical base once again, and launches the wrestler across the ring, this time trying to take Oliver over in a hip toss.] TD: The Down Boys just refusing to die here, Steve Roberts. Fighting spirit like this is a real credit to these two young men! [Dan blocks the hip toss, and flips himself over the arm of Turner, and landing on his back, lifts the feet, and catches Turner on the underside of the jaw with a head-scissors take-over. Oliver quickly breaks the head-scissors and makes his way over to a tag to his partner.] TD: We have the tag! Here comes Adam Peterson! [Peterson hits the ring on fire, as Turner gets to his feet, the Down Boy scoops the man up before taking him up and over with a tilt-a-whirl over-the-knee backbreaker, before dumping the Canadian down to the mat. "Superstud" comes right up to his feet, and waves a hand in the air, before pulling Turner back up to a vertical base one more time. The Down Boy then launches Turner across the ring and connects with a leg lariat which puts Turner right down to the mat, and the NorthPac member rolls himself out of the ring to recover. Saito, obviously aware that his partner is in trouble, launches himself over the top rope into the ring with a springboard somersault that ends with a knee to the back of Peterson dropping the wrestler to the mat. Oliver tries to get himself back into the ring, as Turner finally pulls himself up into the ring. The official tries to get Oliver out of the ring, as he points at Saito to exit out as well. Peterson climbs back up to a vertical stance, but Turner picks the man up and applies a knee-breaker on the wrestler, sending the wrestler back down to the canvas.] TD: Turner regaining the control here -- what a see-saw match this has been, Steve Roberts. [Turner grabs the leg of Peterson, and applies a legal tag to Saito who has made his way back out on the ring apron. Saito beings to climb the ropes, as Turner, locks in the figure four hold, and the Japanese Superstar comes off the top rope with the TNT elbow drop for a second time in the match. "Dazzling" tries to enter the ring, but Saito rolls himself over and comes up with a hard elbow to the jaw of Oliver, sending the wrestler out through the ropes and down to the floor. Turner breaks the figure four, as Saito turns himself back around, and drops down for the cover. Oliver tries to get in the ring to make the save as the official breaks the count, but the "Constable" intercepts the man, and the three-count is registered.] TD: It's over! It's over! What a match! [The bell sounds, as Sparkplug Lee makes his way back up toward the squared circle, with the microphone in hand.] SL: Your winner of this match, Akira Saito and the "Constable" Tom Turner, the NorthPac Coalit.... [Suddenly, there is a huge heel pop as two men charge out of the back with steel chairs in hands, tossing aside orange-shirted security guards as they roar down the aisle.] TD: Here come the Black Watch again! Here comes trouble for the NorthPac Coalition! [The figures of Duncan and Andrew Macbeth hit the ring to a huge heel pop. Duncan grabs Sparkplug's microphone:] DM: DO YIS BLEEDIN' TOSSERS NO' UNDERSTAND ENGLISH? WE _TOLD_ YIS T' GET OUT! [Duncan and Andrew take a couple of swings at the NorthPac members just missing Sparkplug in the process, Andrew however, does connect with "Constable" with a very questionable blow, and Timothy turns his attention to the Black Watch duo as well. Andrew drives the chair down on the back of Tom Turner, before his brother can pull the big Scot off the man.] TD: Oh my! What a shot from Andrew Macbeth! These men are animals! [Saito is having no less luck with Duncan who drives the chair upwards into the chin of the Japanese wrestler, before crashing it into the man's chest, sending the man through the ropes to the floor. Awesome T makes his way over to check on Saito as the Down Boys then hit the ring, extending the fight by lending their assistance to the Turner brothers.] TD: And now the Down Boys are in there again! We need some help out here! [Suddenly out of the back, led by none other than Luke Steele, is the JJS members, who all hit the ring, and start separating the MacBeths from the other men, as Saito is helped up to his feet by Awesome T, the NorthPac member dives into the ring to try to go after the Scotsmen. Steele, also in a black t-shirt, manages to back the Down Boys away from the two Scots, and with Awesome T the group of four men make their way out of the ring, although very warily, never taking their eyes off of the happenings in the ring, as they stand on the ring floor. The Macbeths and the Turners and Saito keep trying to get away from the JJS members to go at one another, but the large group refuses to let them go at it. The NorthPac Coalition finally is escorted out of the ring by about a third of the JJS, while the other two thirds keep the Macbeths held up in the corner, albeit with some difficulty.] TD: I can't believe the actions of the Black Watch, Steve Roberts! SR: Are you kiddin' me, Dross-man? This is great! I mean, in three short weeks, they've ticked off the Machines, the Predators, the Eurotrash, Gaines and Temple, they've outed the Fabulous Ones, and they've got the entire Japanese Empire calling for their heads! They're talkin' the talk, and walkin' the walk, and they've actually got people talking about tag team wrestling again! TD: I'm sure there are more acceptable ways to... just a minute, IIWF Vice-President Osterhout is on his way down to ringside! [Cut back to the action at ringside, where the Black Watch is still struggling against the JJS, and it looks like they are about to break away from the mass of jobbers before another group of orange-shirted Coliseum security guards rushes down the aisle, followed closely behind by Dennis "Griff" Griffing, the IIWF's Chief of Security, and Vice-President Gregg Osterhout, who appears extremely irritated as he stalks down the aisle behind Griffing. As the crowd pops wildly, the guards jump into the fray at ringside, and soon, Andrew and Duncan Macbeth can do nothing as they struggle against the clutches of a dozen guards and JJS members.] SR: Looks like the veep's got something to say to the Scotsmen, Dross! [Osterhout beckons to Sparkplug Lee for the ring mic, and the Vice-President steps forward, standing about two feet away from the sweating, snarling faces of the Macbeth cousins, who calm down a bit as the furious Osterhout raises the mic, his hand trembling as he glares at the two Black Watch members.] GO: I've seen quite enough of this nonsense for one night, you two! [Big crowd pop as the Macbeths stare at the VP in shock, genuinely surprised at Osterhout's tone.] GO: Andrew and Duncan, I've had my eye on the both of you ever since you decided to enter the tag team ranks, and quite frankly, I'm appalled at your actions as of late! This notion of yours, that you "own" the tag team division, does NOT give you free rein to go around interfering in other peoples' matches! May I remind you that "Wrestle Clean" is _still_ in effect in the IIWF, despite the actions of people like yourselves, and I will _not_ allow you to undermine the principles of that program, especially on a night when you are not booked to wrestle! DM: [straining against the guards] I TOL' 'em t' get OUT o' here! They did nae listen! We're no' goin' t'... GO: QUIET! [The crowd pops louder at Osterhout's chutzpah, as Duncan quiets down again, but his intense jade eyes shoot daggers at the VP. Andrew, however, is surprisingly calm as he listens on to the VP with interest.] GO: You're not supposed to be here this evening, gentlemen, so for the benefit of the fans here at the Coliseum as well as our viewing audience, I'm going to ENSURE that we have no more "interruptions" from the Black Watch tonight! [The two Macbeths look at each other in confusion. Osterhout takes a deep breath, and continues.] It is my ruling as Vice-President of the IIWF that the Black Watch, Andrew and Duncan Macbeth, will be BANNED from the IIWF Coliseum for the remainder of this evening's broadcast! Any attempt by the Macbeths to physically set foot in this building tonight will result in an immediate fine and suspension! Get them out of here, boys! [The crowd responds to Osterhout's ruling with a loud pop as Duncan Macbeth explodes with rage, kicking and straining as his captors start to slowly but forcibly drag him up the aisle towards the exit! Andrew Macbeth is dragged along close behind, but unlke his young cousin, the giant Gael is strangely passive, and am aisleside camera catches a hint of a smile on the elder Macbeth's face as the two cousins are dragged through the curtain, down the long hallway to the Coliseum's exit doors, and pushed out the doors into the parking lot! Big pop from the crowd, who watch the scene play out on the video wall, and Osterhout, looking satisfied, follows the group up the aisle to a big cheer, with Griffing in tow. Cut back to Dross and Roberts at ringside.] TD: Well! How do you like that, Steve Roberts! Vice-President Osterhout taking a firm stand against the despicable actions of the Black Watch here tonight, and he has barred Andrew and Duncan Macbeth from entering the Coliseum! SR: Yeah, Greggy sure showed real balls, standing up to the Scotsmen while they were being held back by a dozen guys. You're a _real_ hardcase, Veep. TD: The VP has had problems enforcing his "Wrestle Clean" policy in the IIWF of late, in no small part due to the Black Watch's war against the IIWF tag division, but he has certainly taken a step in the right direction towards upholding the principles of fair play tonight. SR: Big deal. Let me tell you something, Dross, those Scottish bastards are as sneaky as they come, and if they really want to stir the stink here tonight, I doubt that Greggy's little ban is going to stop them. TD: It's not like they have any say so in the matter. They've just been banned from the arena. Okay, folks, I promised I'd get a few words with Mr. Steve Sampson, who is here with us at ringside tonight. If you'll excuse me, Steve Roberts. [Tim Dross grabs the house microphone and walks over towards the aisle way.] TD: Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a very special guest here at ringside area. As some of you who chat on the Internet may or may not know, recently Daniel Spreadbury, the esteemed president of our very own IIWF, has entered into talks with veteran of literally dozens of federations around the world, Steve Sampson. Well, fans, Steve Sampson is in the IIWF Coliseum. Please give him a warm welcome! [Sampson stands up and waves as the fans begin to cheer heavily, with chants of "Superstar" breaking out from people who saw Sampson wrestle across town. Sampson shakes hands with Dross as the fans quiet down a little.] TD: Welcome to the IIWF Coliseum, Steve. SS: Thanks, Mr. Dross. It's great to be here, to see all the great wrestlers that the IIWF has. Everyone I've talked to in the back, and in the front office, have just been incredible. TD: Are you enjoying the night of action so far, Steve? We've already seen one tremendous match-up so far tonight. SS: This is great action, Tim. There's a reason that IIWF has been called the best federation in the world, and it starts right there in the ring. From my old... friend, Caleb Temple right up to the very top with Steve Kowalski. Each of those men back there busts their asses to make this place the best it could be. TD: So, what are the chances of you signing up with the IIWF? SS: Always trying to get a scoop off of someone, Dross. I respect that, though. Well, I'm going to be honest with you, Drossy. I've seen a lot of things that have made me want to sign on the dotted line. Myself and Mr. Spreadbury are going to enter serious negotiations after the show tonight, so we'll see what happens. Maybe it won't be too long until ol' Three-S is plying his trade in Portland once again. [The fans cheer loudly as Steve waves at them once again, and shakes hands with a couple of them near his seats. Dross shakes Steve's hand once again, before he departs for the broadcast booth.] SR: Another of the old Portland locals, huh, Dross? I swear since the Double Eye has started picking up the guys who were out of work after we ran their pansy-asses out of business a year or so back, the public lavatories haven't been half as clean. TD: Steve Roberts, men like Steve Sampson and Gunnar Gaines are amongst the top names in this sport -- and Portland welcomes its home-grown stars back like heroes. If Steve Sampson signs with the IIWF, it'll be another great coup for this organisation. Now, we finally get to see the long-awaited return to action for the Prophets. They haven't wrestled ever since they decided on doing their little "strike" thing. SR: You say that like it's a joke or something. Dross, a bit of advice. Just like you keep away from aides if you're the President, just like you keep away from any man in San Francisco, just like you vote for Osterhout in '98, and just like you're sure to see "Will Job For A Meal" Luke Steele lose big-time, you don't ever toy around with the Prophets. After all, one of 'em's related to "Black Jesus Numero Dos" and there ain't no way in Quigley that this is a bad thing, muhfuh! TD: Well, regardless of your comments, which are bound to land us in a heap of trouble someday, I believe it's time to hit the ring. Take it away, Sparky! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Prophets of Rage vs. American Dragons |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: Dan Kondziela [Sparkplug looks a little flustered as he's apparently been eating Mexican again.] SL: Damn Gorditas! [sees camera] Uh-oh! Er, uh, the following match is scheduled for one fall with a regulation time limit and it is a tag match! First, coming down the aisle, at a combined weight of 556 lbs., here are Joe Scalercio and Bob Ivey, THE AMERICAN DRAGONS!!!! SR: The biggest bunch of losers ever in the tags. Just leave already, or I'll whip out my Asai on the both of ya. Screw that "Any team" crap. You got one eye? Then you can't say anything that even vaguely sounds like that "Pirate of The Californian". [The fans give a confused pop as Scalercio and Ivey emerge not to the strains of "American Nightmare" by White Zombie... but instead to "California Uber Alles" by the Dead Kennedys. The Dragons look confused, but shrug it off as they make their way down the aisle.] TD: What's going on? That's not their theme! SR: Awright, it's the Dead Kennedys! "California Uber Alles"! TD: Well, the Dragons seem peeved, but they're trying to focus on the match at hand. This is their chance to shine and they sure seem ready. SR: Ha, shining what? Cars? Hell, even McDonald's won't take them. "You want the Hammer of God with that?" We should get grievance pay just working with these dorks. [The Dragons slap hands with fans around ringside before hopping up onto the apron and leaping into the ring, pumping their fists for the crowd, clearly excited by the prospect of facing the Prophets at last.] SL: And their opponents, weighing in at a combined weight of 563 lbs, Derek Rage, Dirt Dog Unique Allah, THE PROPHETS OF RAGE!! [The Disciples in the Coliseum rise to their feet as one, and portentously thrust their fish into the air. Two purple spotlights illuminate the head of the aisle as Derek Rage and Pizzazz emerge from the curtain, closely followed by the Dirt Dog Unique Allah, who appears to be on a leash, held by Medusa. As they hit the aisle, Medusa removes the leash from the Dirt Dog's collar, and Allah runs haphazardly down to ringside.] SR: Hey, what did they call Joe over there? Oh yeah, now I remember. They called him "Scalieri!" Ha, Dirt Dog's a wretched drunk! Hey, Dirt Dog, how about some Mooselips? [DDUA gives Roberts raspberries. Roberts, in return, shows Dirt Dog the dirt in his middle finger.] SR: Take that, ya lush! TD: Now, what _is_ going on here? This isn't THEIR music either. I believe that this is the... Holy Cow, it is! SR: What is it, Harry Caray? TD: That's the theme from "The Fish that Saved Pittsburgh"! What in the world is going on? Well, can we at least get someone back there to check? Thanks. SR: This match is already weirder than Chuck Norris in clown makeup. I'm gonna listen to some Pink Floyd. Tell me when it's over. [The Prophets still aren't in the ring. They trade verbal shots with the Dragons until the Drags lose their cool and dive out at the Prophets. DDUA picks up a flounder that the Prophets have thrown. He slaps Scalercio around with it!] SR: Hey ref, he's making a mock-erel of this match. Take a pike, Dirt Dog. [The steady rain of fish flies down as Derek powerbombs Bob into the concrete. Dirt Dog pretends he's humping the fish, then superkicks it into Joe's face.] SR: What a cod! TD: Actually I believe it's large-mouthed sea bass, commonly known as Soundbite Fish. SR: Hey, Dross, do you LIKE sipping food through a straw? Then zip it! [DDUA sends Joe into the ring. He leaps over the top and hits him with a leg-lariat. Then, as Joe is down, Allah gets up and bounces off the ropes. He comes back and does a sliding groin kick!] SR: Safe! [Derek literally hurls Bob into the ring. Derek lumbers in after, bounces off the ropes and lands a flying head stomp. He forward rolls off Bob... and is headed for Dirt Dog, hand outstretched] SR: Allah ducked! Man, this match is just a little crazy. [Allah realises what's happening and ducks, causing Derek to hit the recovering Scalercio with a lariat. Dirt Dog then capitalises and forward moonsaults Ivey from a standing position. As Unique nonchalantly covers, Bob grabs Allah from the side and pulls his shoulders down, creating a pin attempt. The ref makes the count: 1 -- 2...] TD: Kickout! The Prophets have dominated, but just like that, the Dragons capitalise on a situation and nearly take the win with almost no effort. [Bob picks up Dirt Dog and holds him up in a suplex. He drops Allah down into...] SR: THE WIDOWMAKER! TD: Well, yeah, it's the same thing, it's just that Bob calls it the Ghostbuster DDT. SR: Who're you gonna agree with? Some gay guy from Texas or an ex-champ? Wait, don't answer that. [Bob covers but gets a two-count. With a heavy breath, Bob lifts Allah up. He drops him across the knee into a backbreaker. He lifts him right back up and lands a crushing powerslam. Joe, who had just taken out Derek with a Dragon Sweep, comes over and nails a Cherry Bomb. He then flips Dirt Dog over into a Boston Crab. The pain on DDUA's face is excruciating. Joe leans back as hard as he can to increase pressure. Dirt Dog looks like he's having thoughts of giving up when, almost as if on cue, a deep voice speaking in a brogue, comes over the PA:] VOICE: HEY, YOU! DON'T WATCH THA'! WATCH _THIS_! TD: What the hell is... look, on the videotron! [Suddenly, the videotron feed from in the ring cuts out, leaving nothing but snow for a moment. Then, a shot of Andrew and Duncan Macbeth fades in through the snow.] DM: OY! Welcome t' th' Macbeth Broadcastin' System, ya bunch o' tossers! SR: They're in the video truck! It must have been them that messed with the intro music! TD: Good grief. [Tim Dross buries his head in his hands as the crowd boos unmercifully. Joe lets go of the Crab. The Prophets get up to check out the scene too.] AM: Tha's right, we're 'ere t' relieve ye miserable sods o' th' CRAP tha' ol' Spreads is passin' off on yis as "tag team wrestlin'"! These yobbos look like four wee schoolgirls fightin' o'er a bleedin' Backstreet Boys poster! DM: Dave Bacon, ye sorry-arse piddlin' poster boy fer eugenics! I GOT YER "BACON BITS" RIGHT 'ERE, TOSSER! AM: Whoa, easy there, Dunc. Oy, Bacon, yis wants t' see some "skilled" tag-team action? Ye got it, mate, courtesy o' th' Macbeth Broadcatin' System! [Duncan Macbeth can be seen in the background loading a tape into the VCR machine and pushing a lever. The shot changes to a wrestling match, featuring a younger Black Watch facing a team known as Stryke and Vandall Kaos.] TD: This... this is the match where the Black Watch won the IWA championship! [Duncan Macbeth performs a corkscrew plancha onto Vandall outside the ring, while Andrew has Stryke in a torture rack backbreaker, then plants him with an inverted Samoan Drop.] SR: Ooh, that's a sweet move. TD: Steve, we're supposed to be having a match here! The Macbeths are ruining the show! [Andrew lifts Vandall up as if to perform an inverted atomic drop. Instead, Duncan climbs the top rope and levels Vandall with a missile dropkick. Andrew uses the momentum and spinebusters Vandall to the mat, then flips over the top with a roll-up. The referee counts three, and the Black Watch are proclaimed IWA Heavywieght Tag Team Champions. The crowd on the tape pops wildly as the Macbeth cousins celebrate.] TD: Can't somebody get back there and stop them? [The shot cuts back to the inside of the video truck. People can be heard banging on the outside, but Andrew is busy barricading the door with heavy equipment.] DM: Cor, now _tha'_ is wot I call wrestlin'! Oy, Andy, how're ye doin' back there? AM: Fine, lad. Let's give th' folks somethin' tae listen to while I muck aroond wit' this wee transponder 'ere... DM: All right, tossers, back t' yer sorry lives! 'Ere's a wee CD I picked oop in th' $2.99 bin at Tower Records th' other day. Jaysis, th' things yis Yankees throw away... [The videotron goes blank.] TD: Whew! They're gone! [Suddenly, a rendition of "Scotland the Brave" by the Royal 42nd Highlanders is piped into the arena over the P.A. system. The insidious drone of the bagpipes further infuriates the wrestlers in the ring, while fans boo and throw paper cups at the videotron.] TD: This is going to be a long night, Steve... [The four men in the ring argue with the official. The official can't do anything.] SR: Poor guy. Forced to listen to four guys bitch while bagpipe music blares over the background. I think he needs to pay a visit to Kevorkian. TD: The United Nations are back? SR: Give me a break, Dross. You know damn well what I mean. [All of a sudden, the Prophets take advantage of the situation and clobber the Dragons from behind. Dirt Dog and Derek absolutely wail away at Joe and Bob. Dirt Dog is actually biting Joe's hand! Derek nails the Hammer of God on Bob! Then, the Disciples start to get on the Prophets' case, chanting "You're on strike! You're on strike! You're on strike!" Derek looks annoyed by this and confers with Dirt Dog, who was just about to set up for the Fatal Flying Guillotine. They look out at the Disciples every once in awhile. Finally, they climb out of the ring and go back to the stands.] TD: What the... After all this, they decide to leave the ring? What are they trying to prove? [The referee begins to count the Prophets out as the Dragons motion to the POR to come back in. The Prophets yawn and look at their watches. The official's count reaches eight... nine... ten! The official shrugs, and signals for the bell: Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: I really don't get this. They need to explain themselves. This is very odd behaviour on what's already a very odd night! SR: They want the title match. TD: Well, they're not going to get it by throwing matches! SL: Your winners, as a result of a count-out, are THE AMERICAN DRAGONS!! [The Dragons look somewhat disgruntled at the end result, but they don't have much time to mope as... Big heel pop!] TD: Hang on -- hang on! Here come the Night Patrol! [The crowd are on their feet once more as Sgt. Garcia and Lt. Blazer of the Night Patrol dash down the aisle, brandishing their nightsticks. Quick as a flash, they hit the ring, and although the Dragons wheel around, they do so only just in time to each be clobbered by a hard blow to the head from the nightsticks.] TD: Oh my! The Dragons drop like stones! We need some help out here! [Sgt. Garcia twirls his nightstick above his head and crows for the crowd, who respond with a rousing chant of "GARCIA SUCKS! GARCIA SUCKS!" The young Latino stamps his feet and yells at the fans to shut up. Finally, the Jobber Justice Squad, along with Luke Steele and a handful of security staff, make their way down to the ring and force the Night Patrol to leave. Garcia and Blazer continue to showboat for the fans as they are ushered back to the locker rooms, while the referee and Luke Steele tend to the fallen Dragons, helping them to their feet and back to the locker room. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, the security has finally gotten the Night Patrol to go back to the locker room. The Dragons-Patrol match will be a hot one at Birthday Bash. What an odd, odd match. What else will happen tonight, Steve Roberts? SR: Joe Petrow takes a Skullpump, Steve Roberts buys a beer... the usual. TD: I think tonight's show will prove to be anything but the usual, Steve Roberts. Okay, folks, let's get straight back up to the ring for what is sure to be another very interesting match: the new and improved Serge Annis does battle with Charles Scheffield. SR: FOR THE LOVE OF SWEET GOD IN HEAVEN, GET SOMEONE TO TURN OFF THAT FREAKING BAGPIPE MUSIC! TD: Steve, calm down! SR: No! I hate this! Hate it, baby dolls, hate it! First, I've been subjected to TWO tag team matches in a row! Then, there's all this dumb noise being piped in here! Now, I have to watch one of the most hardcore people in HISTORY be forced to "Wrestle Clean!" What's wrong with the world? TD: Be a professional and suck it up. You sucked it up once. SR: Nope. That was just a vicious rumor. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Serge Annis vs. Charles Scheffield |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: Chris O'Brien [We cut to Sparkplug Lee standing in the ring, big smile on his face. Even as most of the crowd covers their ears, Sparky has a grin on his face, probably resulting from the earmuffs he's wearing over his ears.] SR: Muffs. That's what I need. Muffs. TD: That's wrong on so many levels. [Unfortunately, Sparky can't hear himself, and in order to, he has to scream into the mic, which makes the crowd scream and clamp their hands to their ears even tighter] SR: THE FOLLOWING CONTEST IS SET FOR ONE FALL! INTRODUCING FIRST, FROM LORDSHIP, CONNECTICUT, STANDING 6'1" AND WEIGHING 231 POUNDS, HERE IS CHARLES SCHEFFIELD! [Instead of Beethoven's "Fur Elise," Scheffield enters to "Warthog" by the Ramones. Scheffield looks at the speakers in disgust, before turning and making his way to the ring. He has a smile on his face as he greets the fans, slapping hands with them as he walks to the ring.] TD: Charles Scheffield looking very confident tonight. SR: He damn well should be! Annis is hindered! You should just tie one hand behind his back. "Wrestle Clean!" Jesus! Osterhout, you've just cut our ratings in half, because the hardcore contingent just went to the fridge to get a six-pack! TD: So? SR: No, Dross. They're going to DRINK the whole six-pack, pass out, and not go back to the TV! Not only does the IIWF suffer, but I suffer! TD: Suffer? You? SR: I feel pain, Dross. When no one watches, the "Soundbite" isn't fulfilling his God-given mission to alienate as many people as possible. TD: A minute ago, you were harping about ratings! SR: For every one I turn off, I turn two more on. TD: Annoy Mama, but turn on Chelsea and Gillian? SR: Shoot, Dross, shoot! [Suddenly, a voice echoes in over the PA system:] VO: Hold it, hold it, hold it! [The videotron picks up the form of "Vagabond" Chris Staley standing up in his seat amidst the fans in the ringside stalls. Staley is clutching a microphone.] SR: Christ, what does Stalebread want? TD: Well, if you would listen, perhaps we'll find out. CS: Charles, I have a proposal for you. Now, I'm still green as hell. I'm willing to admit that. But, you've been in this fed for how long and you've STILL gone nowhere?! Charles, I propose that we make an alliance. With your quick thinking and my pretty amazing speed for a guy so large, I think we could go places. You don't have to give me an answer now. Answer me on Monday. I'll be waiting. [Chris sits back down and leans back in his chair. Cut to a shot of Scheffield, standing in the ring. His face betrays no emotion.] SR: Why the hell can't these guys talk to one another in the locker room, Dross? Or call each other on the phone? We don't need every damned moron out here with a microphone to ask what colour trunks he should wear. TD: Well, indeed. Let's get back up to Sparkplug Lee. SL: AND HIS OPPONENT... FROM OAKVILLE, ONTARIO, CANADA! WEIGHING 290 POUNDS AND STANDING 6'8", HERE IS "THE LETHAL PROTECTOR" SERGE ANNIS! ["Big Joe Mufferaw" by Stompin' Tom Connors replaces the bagpipe music as the massive frame of Serge Annis steps into the aisle. A few cheers are heard over the horrible song, but so is a chant of "SELLOUT! SELLOUT!"] SR: Aw, man... not the Epitome. Not him. What's next, Steve Kowalski as the spokesman for Alcoholics Anonymous? [Annis walks to the ring, eyes locked on Charles Scheffield, who warms up on the ropes while awaiting the former "Epitome of Evil" to enter the ring. Sparky quickly vacates the ring as Annis steps into the ring. He walks to the centre of the ring, looking at Scheffield coldly. Even though he doesn't have his flames anymore, Annis still raises his hands into the air... and as he drives them down, the sound of a man passing gas is played VERY loudly over the PA.] SR: Dross, you been hitting all-you-can eat night at Paco Paco's? TD: The Black Watch still in the broadcast truck. Security trying to remove them... SR: Never knew haggis had a hard time settling... [Annis looks positively pissed as he looks as Scheffield. Scheffield is laughing in the corner, trying not to double over in hysterics...but Scheffield is bowled over by Serge Annis, who levels the aristocrat with a HUGE clothesline! Joey Patrick calls for the bell as Annis lays into Scheffield with clubbing blows. Patrick reflexively starts a count, until he notices that Annis is laying into a prone Scheffield with forearms, not fists.] TD: Patrick taken aback, but he counts anyway... and Annis breaks at four! SR: The end of an era, Dross. What's next, Tiger Claw coming out with boxing gloves on? [Annis backs up, giving Scheffield time to get to his feet, before coming in and hitting a kneelift! The crowd gives a sympathetic pop as Scheffield snaps backwards...and Annis wraps his hand around Scheffield's throat!] TD: Annis is trying to hit the Epitomizer early! He's got it locked... but Scheffield's got a hand on the ropes! [Scheffield holds on for dear life as Annis tries again to hit his signature move. After two tries, Annis lets go of Scheffield and goes to drive an elbow into his face, but Scheffield launches himself in a perfect Tekken Spear! Annis doesn't fall, but the big man staggers back, giving Scheffield time to get up and nail a dropkick! Annis falls back to the ropes, and manages to stay in the ring as Scheffield looks on] TD: Scheffield bouncing back from Annis' offensive assault quite well, Steve. SR: The old Annis would have driven a fist into the pretty boy's face... over and over. TD: Steve, you sit here and talk about Annis not being violent anymore... you can't deny though that Serge Annis hits just as hard as he ever has. SR: But... where's the hate? The rage? I miss my "Epitome." [Annis and Scheffield lock up in the middle of the ring. Annis has the height advantage, and easily forces Scheffield to the ropes. Patrick calls for a break. Once again, Annis surprises everyone by stepping back, arms raised. Everyone waits for the charge in, but Annis stands back, waiting for Scheffield] TD: Scheffield wary, and he steps off the ropes... MASSIVE CHOP! Annis with a huge hand across the chest of Charles Scheffield. [Scheffield is back on the ropes, and Annis waits again, arms raised as Patrick watches. As soon as Scheffield steps off the ropes, Annis hits him again with a chop, the sound echoing across the confines of the IIWF Coliseum.] SR: They look good... but there's nothing behind them. TD: Keep this up, Steve, and if Annis hears you, there might be pain. [Annis keeps back... but Scheffield catches him with a kick to the gut! He grabs Annis and hurls him up against the ropes, and begins laying into the big man with hard blows! Annis reels before Scheffield whips him to the opposite ropes...and a clothesline! Annis goes down, but Scheffield picks him back up and sends him for the ride again!] TD: Another clothesline! And Scheffield once more...Annis ducks... JUMPING CROSS BODY BLOCK! Annis goes airborne and brings nearly 300 pounds crashing into Charles Scheffield! [Cover by Annis! 1 -- 2 -- and Scheffield kicks out! Annis is up first, and he waits as Scheffield gets up... and drives his head into Scheffield's!] SR: You NEVER see that anymore... [Annis again to the ropes, and he whips Scheffield across the ring. Annis tries for a big boot, but Scheffield catches him! For two seconds, both men hop in place, before Scheffield brings his legs up and catches Annis' in a leglock!] TD: Beautiful improvised move by Scheffield, and he's got the big man down on the mat! [Scheffield holds the extended leg of Serge Annis, and Annis strains to reach the ropes as Scheffield rolls around for effect. Patrick keeps a close eye on Annis...and as soon as Annis manages to get a hold of one of the ropes, Patrick calls for the break, which Scheffield gives] TD: You can't deny, Annis is giving it his all tonight. SR: Yes I can. What happened to that damn barbed wire chair? [The drone of the bagpipes dies down, providing only a brief moment of relief before the Macbeth cousins pop up on the videotron again.] DM: Oy, put doon tha jumbo bag o' pork rinds an' LISTEN OOP! AM: This is the Macbeth Broadcastin' System, an' we're 'ere tae make sure that _someone_ delivers yis some entertainment, 'cos these twa eejits sure cannae! TD: Damnit! Someone get in that truck! Get a crowbar! A blowtorch! SR: Call Triple-A! DM: An' now, for yer viewin' pleasure, th' comedy stylin's o' "Th' Big Yin" 'imself, Billy Connolly! [The videotron cuts to a shot of some concert footage from about 1974, with a skinny, scraggly-haired Billy Connolly on a stage in some nondescript theatre.] SR: Hey, is that the guy from "Head of the Class"? I wonder if he got to slip Robin Givens the tongue... BC: Th' population o' Scotland is _staggerin'_! [Pause.] BC: This is due tae a concoction called "Johnnie Walker Black"! [The very sparse, but highly vocal Macbeth supporters are laughing uproariously along with the crowd on the tape.] BC: An' now, me friends, I'd like t' sing ye a wee song I wrote th' other dee... # Oh it's closin' time again ye'll have t' leave us Oh ye've got tha' far away look in yer eyes We've got tae hose th' lobby down and count th' tumblers An' wipe th' stewer from off tomorrow's pies # SR: What the hell is "stewer"? BC: # Oh th' Scottish poobs they're gonna be just like England They're lettin' us drink oop an hour late But tha' won't affect th' crowd that drink in me poob 'Cos they're all steamin' drunk at half past eight # [The video feed snows out again and goes to black.] TD: What a relief! [And the bagpipe music kicks in again.] SR: Sweet mother of God, somebody shoot me! [On cue, the Li'l Soundbiters begin the famous chant: "Shoot, Soundbite, Shoot! Shoot, Soundbite, Shoot!"] SR: Morons. [In the ring, Annis and Scheffield have ignored the Black Watch's little interlude and are wailing away with closed fists. Annis seems to be enjoying himself more, but as he gains the advantage, Serge Annis heeds the warning of Joey Patrick, and stops. Scheffield is on one knee) TD: Fans, during that interruption, Charles Scheffield had Serge Annis in a hammerlock, but Annis broke out of it easily. [We go split screen to show what happened, as Annis puts a chinlock on the aristocrat in the middle of the ring.] SR: Now we're getting down to it! Annis grinding that chinlock in on the pretty boy! TD: Scheffield hanging with Annis throughout this match-up... but Scheffield drives an elbow into the stomach of Serge Annis! And another! Annis releases, and Scheffield comes off the ropes... SR: Nothing good will come of this. TD: CROTCHSLAM! Annis hurls Scheffield into the air by his crotch and Scheffield slams into the mat! SR: Told you. [Annis looks on before picking Scheffield up and putting him on his shoulder!] TD: Where's Annis going? [Annis begins climbing the corner turnbuckle, with Charles Scheffield resting on his shoulder. The fans POP as Annis goes to the very top, with Scheffield lying motionless!] SR: This can't be good for Scheffield. [Annis turns around very slowly...and brings Scheffield into position! Patrick begins screaming!] JP: NO! Annis, no! [Annis looks at the ref with an evil look in his piercing blue eyes] SA: It's nice and legal, fat boy. [With that, Annis launches himself off the top rope, and flashbulbs explode before Scheffield is driven into the mat via a powerslam!] TD: Top-rope powerslam! Cover by Annis! One... two... three! He got him! SR: No, Dross! Joey's showing two! [Annis stands up, arm raised... until Patrick tells him it was only a two count! Annis is positively enraged, screaming at the ref, both hands clinched in fists] SR: Snap, Serge. Please? [Annis is ready to burst a vein, and in doing so, he doesn't see Charles Scheffield behind him, pulling himself up on the ropes. Annis is taken completely off guard when Scheffield grabs the big man, and manages to take him down with a Russian Leg Sweep!] TD: And now Scheffield applying a crossface chickenwing! He's got that hold applied, and Annis has nowhere to go! [Scheffield tightens the hold as Annis strains for the ropes, just out of reach. The camera shows a close-up of Annis' face, agony etched on it as he reaches out for the ropes.] TD: Annis could be in trouble here! SR: Could be? HE IS! Damn, Dross, get some glasses... TD: Wait! Scheffield lets go of the chickenwing! SR: What? [Scheffield indeed has released the hold, and now he drags Annis to the middle of the ring! Annis tries to fight back by tripping up Scheffield, but the young man avoids it before driving his knee into the stomach of Serge Annis!] TD: Scheffield now flips Annis over onto his stomach...and a double leglock... Scheffield falls forward and locks in a full nelson! SR: Aristoclutch 2.0! [Scheffield just manages to interlock his fingers around the neck of Serge Annis, who has no place to go!] TD: Annis almost had Scheffield earlier with the top-rope powerslam, but now it's Scheffield's turn, and he's got that hold locked in! [Annis wiggles as best he can to alleviate some pressure, but for the most part, Scheffield's got it locked, although he himself is straining to keep his fingers locked around Annis' neck!] TD: Annis is fading! SR: Come on, Annis! [Scheffield's hands suddenly come loose! He scrambles to relock them, but Annis takes the opportunity to roll over, breaking the leglocks and smashing a fist right into the face of Charles Scheffield!] TD: Annis is up, and so is Scheffield! Neither man moves, though, it looks like they're just trying to catch their breath! [Annis and Scheffield look at each other, Annis holding his neck, Scheffield with his hands on his nose. Both men slowly stand up ramrod straight, and go for the lock up... ...the lights go out.] TD: What the...?! SR: Damn Black Watch! Just when I was getting into this match! [But the bagpipe music has stopped also. Total blackness... and total silence... blanket the IIWF Coliseum.] TD: Steve? Can you see anything? SR: Nope. Not a thing... not even the gleam of your head, Dross! [The lights come back up. Deathbringer stands in the middle of the ring. The crowd POPS as the tall figure slowly points at Charles Scheffield, who stands in a corner, looking on in shock. Annis has retreated to a neutral corner, and watches.] TD: Deathbringer's arrived! SR: Great. Whoopee. [Scheffield looks... before charging! Just as he hits mid-ring, the lights go out again!] TD: We're in pitch black again! SR: Did you hear a THUD, Dross? TD: Yes I did! [The lights come back on, and Scheffield has just hit face first into the turnbuckle. Deathbringer now stands in the adjacent corner, opposite of Serge Annis. Scheffield looks at the dead man again, before walking up to him!] SR: Damn. Pretty boy's got guts... TD: Scheffield looking the cowl of Deathbringer right in the eye... and he rears back to take a swing! [Darkness.] SR: Damnit! This is getting on the Soundbite's last nerve! TD: HEY! SR: What? Sparky, you feelin' up Dross again? TD: No! Something just brushed past me! We got a fan loose! [The lights come back on. Two things grab our immediate attention. One, Deathbringer stands over a bodybag. We assume it is Charles Scheffield in the bag, because he's nowhere to be seen. The form in the bag struggles violently as Deathbringer slowly turns his gaze to Serge Annis. Two, "Vagabond" Chris Staley stands on the ringsteps behind Deathbringer.] TD: It was Chris Staley, Steve Roberts! He's who brushed past me! [Deathbringer does not notice Staley, and neither does Annis. Both men have their gazes locked upon each other, as "Vagabond" steps into the ring silently. All three ignore the bodybag jumping around on the mat.] TD: Deathbringer's reaching into his cloak... SR: YES! YES! TD: Oh, no. [Deathbringer tosses Serge Annis a silver Zippo lighter. No words are exchanged, just the lighter. Annis looks at it, eyes wide. He opens it, and flicks it. A flame appears, dancing in front of the blue eyes of the "Lethal Enforcer"... TD: NO! OH GOD, NO! [As Annis looks up at Deathbringer, Deathbringer tosses something else... and Annis ducks out of the way as the Dark Destroyer hurls a fireball. Annis beats at his hair as he rolls on the mat, dazed by the searing heat but apparently not seriously hurt.] SR: Great, it's Dungeons and Dragons day here in the IIWF! The necromancer just cast a fireball at the fighter, and now he's down to five hit points. [Deathbringer looks at Annis, and then at the bodybag, where Charles Scheffield tries to escape... and then up at the charging form of Chris Staley] TD: Staley has attacked Deathbringer! And he's got him on the ropes! [The young rookie repeatedly hits Deathbringer, as Joey Patrick helps up Serge Annis in the corner. A dropkick sends the big man over the top rope and onto the floor!] TD: Chris Staley is all over Deathbringer! And now... he whips him into the ring steps! [CLANG! Deathbringer comes to a screeching halt, as "Vagabond" gives the sign for the JCP Edge! Once again, the lights go out] SR: We forgetting to pay the electric bill, Dross? [The lights come back on, and Deathbringer is gone. Staley looks around, and even under the ring, but the big man has disappeared. Cursing up a blue streak, which is nicely edited, he makes his way over the railing and back into the crowd, but not before kicking the steps in frustration.] TD: Deathbringer may have lucked out, Steve Roberts. Staley was all over him, and ready to give him the JCP Edge. SR: Ah, who cares. Dead guy, rookie. Steve Roberts doesn't do dead guys. Or rookies. [Annis is on his feet, and has taken his hands away from his eyes. It appears the fireball did not do any major harm. Patrick has called Sparkplug Lee over, as Annis...] TD: Serge Annis is ripping open the body bag! SR: And he's helping Scheffield out? Damn it! SOFTIE! SOFTIE! [Annis pulls Scheffield up as Lee gets on the mic.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has declared this match a no-contest and has thrown it out! [The bagpipe music has started up again as Annis and Scheffield are on their feet, very unsteadily.] TD: Now what? SR: I'm hoping for a clothesline. [Before anything can happen, the crowd POPS as two men are seen running down the aisle!] TD: IT'S THE "ENIGMA!" SR: And he brought a friend! [Takezo Musashi is clad in his black karate pants and painted face, while a second man runs beside him, wearing the same pants and a Mexican-style wrestling mask. Quick as a flash, Musashi leaps up to the apron, while his masked compatriot runs around to the other side of the ring. Annis and Scheffield stop their fighting and stand back to back in the ring, each facing an assailant.] TD: Oh, this is bad, Steve Roberts. And who is that masked man?! [Suddenly, Musashi launches himself into the ring, slingshotting himself over the ropes and hitting Scheffield with a dropkick. Scheffield goes down, knocking Serge back -- at which point the masked man leaps over the top rope, and swings a bare foot hard up to the back of Annis' head, knocking him down to the mat with a single kick! Big heel pop!] TD: Oh my! What a kick, right to the nape of the neck! Annis is down, Scheffield is down... and Musashi has a microphone! [The fans give a huge heel pop as Musashi stands in the ring alongside his masked comrade, who folds his arms across his chest. The two men are clearly of a similar build and height as they stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the squared circle. Annis clutches at his head as he rolls on the canvas in front of the two attackers.] TM: What a satisfying sight, to witness this pathetic man slashed down by the keen blade of chaos. Before long, Serge Annis, you will learn the price of meddling in the affairs of men greater than yourself. Before long you will see that the law you strive to hang over my head can be swept aside easily and at will. I grow impatient with your ceaseless bleating and petty ambitions. You have become a cumbersome stone blocking the Enigma's ascent to true greatness. Let this assault stand as a testament and a warning, Serge Annis. Stay away from Steve Kowalski from this day forth. Forget about your fruitless dreams of wearing the gold. It is I, as a warrior possessed of greater might and ruthlessness than yourself, who must be granted the status of number one contender. Don't think that I don't know about your campaigns behind the cameras to land yourself the big shot at Birthday Bash. Your ceaseless haggling with the officials and marketing men has told me all I need to know about you. You no longer possess the strength or the iron will to overcome adversity in the ring. Your goals are accomplished behind closed doors. I don't waste my time bartering with these feeble executives. When I aim for the heights, I do so like a true warrior... on the battlefields; in the rings of war. When I want something, Serge Annis, I'm ruthless enough to take it. As I am doing this very moment... One last time, Serge Annis. Save yourself the anguish and torment. Step aside and allow me to take my rightful place in the main event at Birthday Bash. If you do not comply with my wishes, then the beating you have experienced tonight will only be the beginning. My final triumph will soon be set in motion, but _your_ fate, Serge Annis, is sealed in blood. [Musashi drops the microphone, and goes to stomp on Annis once more -- but the "lethal enforcer" grabs Musashi's foot! Big pop! The mystery man comes to Musashi's aid, but finds himself tackled from behind by Scheffield, who has also fought to his knees! The crowd cheer wildly as the huge Annis powers to his feet and grabs Musashi by the throat, managing to perform a sloppy chokeslam on the "Enigma", who wisely rolls out of the ring, clutching at the back of his head. Scheffield, meanwhile, holds the masked interloper still, and Annis points to the mask. Big pop!] TD: Annis wants to unmask this man! Who has allied with Takezo Musashi? [The masked man wriggles and lashes out with his feet, but his arms are held behind his back, and he is unable to break free. Annis reaches out, grabs the mask, and yanks it away from the stranger's head... Big heel pop!] TD: It's... Tiger Claw?! SR: Hot damn, Dross! It's Tiger Claw! [The bald-headed Thai wrestler lets out a furious yell and finally breaks free of Scheffield's grip, lashing out with a savate kick that catches Charles roughly under the jaw. Scheffield goes down, and in a fluid movement, Claw whips around to fire a similar kick at Annis -- who grabs the foot! Big pop! Annis throws Claw's foot into the air, forcing the Canadian Thai boxer to perform a backflip, landing nimbly on his feet... at which point Annis charges and clotheslines Claw out of the ring! Huge pop as Claw lands right on Musashi!] TD: Oh my! Annis and Scheffield clearing house in there! And Musashi decides to bail out! SR: I guess the plan failed, Dross! Maybe this means it was Tiger Claw who helped attack Steve Kowalski backstage last week too! TD: I can only imagine that Tiger Claw is... oh, listen to this crowd, Steve Roberts! [As Annis stands in the ring, watching Musashi and Claw back up the aisle, the capacity crowd break into a chant of "YOU SOLD OUT! YOU SOLD OUT! YOU SOLD OUT!", causing Claw to "salute" the fans in frustration as he and Musashi back away, the Enigma making threatening gestures at Annis all the while. Meanwhile, Charles Scheffield has regained his footing in the ring, and rubs his jaw. Annis turns, and comes face to face with his opponent once more.] TD: What a chaotic night it's been so far. SR: Go on, Annis -- chokeslam him, just for the hell of it! [Annis and Scheffield stare awkwardly at one another for a moment... and then Annis extends his hand to Scheffield! The two exchange the briefest of handshakes, and Annis then leads the way out of the ring and back up the aisle in pursuit of their attackers, as the crowd show their approval with a round of applause. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Curiouser and curiouser, Steve Roberts. Musashi and Tiger Claw have some kind of alliance... and did you see how Claw just floored Annis with a single kick in there? SR: He's a giant killer and no mistake, Dross. Guys like Musashi and Claw, much as I hate those runtweights, can hold their own against the Kowalskis, the Thunders and the Annises of this world. This isn't over by a long shot. TD: Folks, I hope we can get some kind of explanation about Tiger Claw's involvement in this whole affair tonight. Earlier tonight, we saw the Black Watch challenge Gunnar Gaines and Caleb Temple to a match at Birthday Bash -- and it seems that Larry Morton is backstage with those two gentlemen at the moment for their response. Larry? [Cut to the locker room of the Baddest Thangs Running, Caleb Temple and Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines. They flank the hooded, kilted man, who remains silent throughout the entire interview. Larry Morton is trying to get a word from Temple, who is a picture of absolute calm. Temple turns to Morton...] CT: You know, Larry, I've been thinking this over. And I think I've come up with the _PERFECT_ solution. Oh yes... this is good. This is very good. [Caleb chuckles softly, and his eyes ignite with a devilish glint. Gunnar just nods with a smirk on his face.] CT: Duncan and Andrew, I want you to listen carefully to my little proposition. I'd like you to try to understand what I'm going to say. GGG: Yeah. That's relatively easy compared to anyone understanding what _you two_ have to say. This is gonna be great. Tell 'em, Brother Temple. [Both men snicker.] CT: You two _CANNOT_ compete with the Baddest Thangs Running. Not in ANY kind of match can you two provide us with adequate opposition. GGG: [shaking his head] You _know_ this. After all, you did everything you could to keep _US_ from getting what you call _YOUR_ tag team titles... titles you think are yours even though you haven't done _shit_ as a tag team in the Double Eye -- and we've beaten the champs. Any way you try it... trying to tangle with the Baddest Thangs Running is like tap dancing on a minefield. Or hell... make that _kilt dancing_, ya little fart stains! CT: So what we think we'll do... is take our chances. We're going to prove to you that we can beat you senseless, whatever the rules. GGG: That's right, _laddies_. [A sly smile crosses Caleb's pale face. His smirk widens into a grin. You know what kind. A Grizzly Grin.] CT: It's quite simple, gentlemen. "Spin The Wheel... and Make The Deal." [The smile disperses as quickly as it formed, and he hisses with real venom in his tone.] CT: "Ask and ye shall receive." Matthew 7:7. You asked for this, Macbeths. And you _SHALL_ receive it. GGG: And you'll also receive a real lesson in pain. Aren't we generous? We're going to take all the "bleedin' tripe" you two are constantly whining about... and shove it down your _bleedin' throats_. Hell, with this tag division... the only thing that's going to be "all yours" is a lot of agony and misery... courtesy of the Baddest Thangs Running. Brother Temple ... you're a genius. CT: _Trust me._ LM: There you have it, the challenge issued by the Baddest Thangs Running. Back to you at ringside, gentlemen. [Gaines claps a meaty hand down on Morton's back as the shot cuts back to Dross and Roberts at ringside.] TD: A "Spin the Wheel, Make the Deal" match at Birthday Bash, Steve Roberts! Another superb match set to be signed for that huge pay-per-view event, which is only three weeks away, folks! Right now, however, it's time for another match in one of the two tournaments that will culminate at Birthday Bash. Let's find out who will be facing Simon Lebec in the semi-finals of the Intercontinental Championship in two weeks' time. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNAMENT MATCH: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Timothy N. Turner vs. Christopher Stonebreaker ....................................................................... WRITER: Jason Lake [Sparkplug Lee comes out and does his level best to perform his duties, despite the impending chaos that the Black Watch are about to wreak with the entrance music.] SL: The following match is scheduled for ONE fall with a ten-minute time limit, and it is a first-round match in the IIWF Intercontinental Championship tournament! [Crowd pop!] SL: Coming down the aisle, from Lafayette, LA and weighing in at 265 pounds... Christopherrrrrr STONEbreakerrrrrr!!! [As the bayou-bred Stonebreaker appears at the top of the rampway, he clutches his ears in disgust as, rather than Hank Williams Jr, the not-so-mellow tones of "Double Dare" by Bauhaus emanate from the P.A. system at high volume. Clearly unhappy, he makes his way down to the ring as quickly as possible, not even stopping to slap hands with the fans around ringside.] SR: Kee-rist, it sounds like "Gothic Orgy Night" at the Dross residence! SL: And his opponent... accompanied by the NorthPac Coalition... from Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, and weighing in at 230 pounds... "Rocket Man"... Timothy ennnnNNNNN TURNerrrrr!!! [A furious Turner, followed by the NorthPac Coalition, pushes aside the curtains and stands at the top of the rampway, staring at the videotron, but only seeing his face enlarged on the screen courtesy of the normal video feed. There is silence for a moment, then the videotron changes to a clip showing Ren Hoek and Stimpy J. Cat wearing some type of red uniform reminiscent of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. A fanfare builds... Stimpy encourages everyone to sing... and...] TD: Soundbite, why are you standing up? SR: Dammit, Dross, show some respect! Didn't your momma teach you any manners? Stand up when someone's anthem is being played! # Our country reeks of trees Our yaks are really large And they smell like rotting beef carcasses. And we have to clean up after them And our saddle sores are the best We proudly wear women's clothing And searing sand blows up our skirts. And the buzzards, they soar o'erhead And poisonous snakes will devour us whole Our bones will bleach in the sun. And we will probably go to [splat] And that is our great reward For being the-uh Ro-oy-al Canadian Kilted Yaksmen! # SR: Oh, Drossy, it brings a tear to my eye [sniff]. Damn those bleeding heart liberals who say we shouldn't play anthems at sporting events! [Once again, the videotron cuts to a shot from inside the truck, where the Macbeth cousins are just about ready to bust a gut laughing.] DM: Cor, look at this, Andy! 'Tis our auld pal Timothy N-continent Turner an' 'is "companions", Th' FudgePac'ers! Hah-HAH! AM: Oy, wot a sorry waste o' oxygen yis bunch o' Canooks are, Turner. While yer companions Tommy an' Sashimi-breath were playin' "Brain, Brain, Who's Got a Brain?", we were stompin' a mudhole th' size o' Loch Lomond in 'em. An' wot could ye doo aboot it? Jack squat., tha's wot. Why don't th' lot o' yis just go on back t' Canada, put on yer wee Shania Twain records an' go do some o' yer nancy-boy line-dancin'? DM: Now, t' save ye poor miserable sods from 'avin t' watch these no talent wankers see who can procure th' dreaded Canadian Liplock, 'ere's a wee compilation o' th' greatest moments in Scotland sports 'istory! AM: An' ye can nae see it but right 'ere... on th' Macbeth Broadcastin' System! Tossers... [Andrew pushes a lever, and the crowd is treated to a grainy clip of Jackie Stweart, in an old BRS car, winning the 1965 Formula One Italian Grand Prix at Monza.] TD: We... we were _this_ close to winning an Emmy this year... [Next, some footage from the Scotland Claymores' thrilling victory in the 1996 World Bowl.] TD: We had a 5.2 last week, Steve. Five point two! [Some clips from the 1986 Commonwealth Games in Edinburgh follow.] TD: Rusty Priske is on the headphones backstage. He's telling me that we're being beaten by a re-run of "Matlock" on Channel 72 in Bismarck, South Dakota. [The next clip appears to be a soccer game shot from a handheld camera, with the caption "Glenfinnan Silver Eleven vs. South Orkney Triple Diamonds."] TD: Rusty Priske has fainted! Get the EMTs back there! [Abruptly, the video feed snows out again, and the Royal 42nd Highlanders resume their bagpipe playing.] SR: Forget Priske, get those EMT's over here with some ether! Or a bottle of tequila! Anything to knock me out! [Turner, having stood there the whole time with hands on hips enduring this spectacle, starts to lose it, but shakes his head and regains his focus instead. Turner heads down the ramp, and the NorthPac Coalition take seats at ringside, behind the Mandarin-language announcers' table.] TD: Well, the Black Watch have done their thing once again, fouling up the entrance music, and I think it's getting pretty old by now! SR: Dross, despite the fact that those damn bagpipes are giving me a migraine the size of Alison Moyet, at least those crazy Scottish bastards are trying to do something to liven up this broadcast. In fact, they've inspired me. TD: Uh-oh. SR: So, as commentary for this match, I will be reading from one of my favourite books, other than _Swank_, of course... _The 'F' Word_ . TD: Thank God for the seven-second tape delay. SR: [BLEEP]in' A. [Turner rolls into the squared circle as the bell sounds. The two combatants size each other up, engage in a collar-and-elbow, but both men break. They lock up again, and break once again. Stonebreaker gesticulates to the crowd, trying to get them on his side, and receives a medium pop. Turner does the same, and receives a slightly larger pop, which brings just the hint of a smile to his face.] TD: Fans all over the world, especially right here in the IIWF Coliseum, are flocking behind Turner. Partly because of his ring abilities, and partly because just about everyone hates the Black Watch. And you can add me to that list after this fiasco. SR: Abso[BLEEP]inglutely. [The two wrestlers lock up for a third time. Stonebreaker with a go-behind, reversed by Turner. Turner with an amateur-style takedown into a hammerlock. Stonebreaker is too close to the ropes, though, so referee Earl Alfonso calls for the break.] TD: Unusual to see the larger Stonebreaker taken down to the mat like that. Turner is giving up about 30 pounds here. SR: Ass-[BLEEP]. Beans and mother[BLEEP]ers. TD: Folks, we apologise for the actions of Mr Steve Roberts. SR: Dog[BLEEP]. [They lock up again. Stonebreaker acquires a side-headlock. Turner grabs the wrists and attempts to power out, but the Cajun uses his weight to keep the hold on, then grinds down with it. Turner pushes Stonebreaker toward a turnbuckle. Alfonso calls for a clean break... and gets it. Another collar-and-elbow, Turner with a top wristlock, then a leg weep, putting Stonebreaker down to the mat. Turner applies another side headlock. Stonebreaker grabs Turner by the waist and turns him over onto his shoulder blades, getting a one-count, but Turner comes back down, still holding onto the headlock. Again, Stonebreaker turns it into a pin attempt, this time getting a two-count from Alfonso. Stonebreaker gets up to his knees, and drives the point of his elbow into Turner's gut. Another elbow, and the hold is broken. Stonebreaker flies off the far ropes and tries a shoulder tackle, which hits and sends Turner to the mat. Stonebreaker lunges again off the ropes, but Turner drops down. On the rebound, Turner goes for a hip toss, but Stonebreaker reverses it and tosses Turner in a beautiful high arc, down to the mat. Crowd pop.] TD: Some solid, fundamental wrestling by both competitors so far. SR: 1976. Atlee, _Domino_. 52. "This is Korea's nuclear reactor one... and I'll be fiddle[BLEEP]ed if I understand why it hasn't fallen down yet." [Turner extends his right hand in friendship to the Rajun' Cajun, who thinks about it for a second, then accepts the handshake. They go to lock up again, but Turner plants a boot into Stonebreaker's midsection, doubling him over. Turner bounces off the ropes with a swinging neckbreaker. Crowd pop. Turner drives his knee into Stonebreaker's. Another knee.] TD: This ground attack is unusual for Turner... more like the style of his brother Tom. Let's go over to the Chinese table and listen in! [Cut to the Chinese announcers' table, where play-by-play man Li Xiaolong and colour commentator Li "Tuzi" Jiansheng are doing the honours.] LX: Tongxue De, nin jiao bu jiao nin de didi zhei ge shi? CTT: Huh? LTJ: Rang wo, rang wo. Comrade Turnah, did you teach yo' bu-ruthah this type of sty-ru? CTT: Um, yes. We worked on it specifically for this match. LTJ: Ta shuo, "Wo de didi shi yi ge da qizi de bing!" [Back in the ring, the "Rocket Man" has kept the action on the mat, maintaining a leglock. Stonebreaker manages to land some punches to Turner's chest, breaking the hold. Stonebreaker gets to his feet quickly and drops back down with an elbow across Turner's throat, then takes a moment to shake off the effects of Turner's leg hold.] SL: Five minutes gone, five minutes remaining in this match! [This announcement seems to spur both wrestlers on, as they pick up the pace. Stonebreaker with an Irish whip, attempting a clothesline, but Turner grabs on to the arm and applies a crucifix cradle for a two-count. Turner gets up, catches Stonebreaker with a dropkick, then another. Turner bounces off the ropes and attempts a cross-body, but Stonebreaker catches him in mid-air with _one_ arm, and, facing NorthPac, military presses Turner three times before dropping him with a gorilla slam. Big crowd pop!] TD: Amazing show of strength there by the "Rajun' Cajun'"! SR: FIGMO. Interjection and adjective, military. "[BLEEP] It, Got _My_ Orders." [Stonebreaker picks Turner up and starts laying in with right hands, sending Turner reeling into the turnbuckle. A big biel throw sends Turner back down to the mat. Stonebreaker stomps him in the knee, then picks Turner's head up and rakes his eyes across Stonebreaker's boot laces.] TD: Steve, this is the part where you talk about the boot laces across the eyes and how some guy from the turn of the century invented it, and the good old days of cheating and all that. SR: Go take a flying [BLEEP] at a rolling doughnut. TD: Excuse _me_?! SR: 1971, Cameron. _First Blood_. Page 119. SL: Seven minutes gone, three minutes remaining in this match! [Stonebreaker hits a flying powerslam, but Turner kicks out at two-and-a-half. Stonebreaker taunts the NorthPac Coalition, but Tom Turner waves him off and Akira Saito just sits there stoically. Turner takes advantage of this brief lack of focus by dropkicking Stonebreaker in the back of the head, sending him tumbling over the top rope and down to the ring. Turner climbs to the top turnbuckle, and hits a cannonball press onto the dazed Cajun. Big crowd pop!] TD: The "Rocket Man" has just blasted off, and the crowd is going bananas! [Turner throws Stonebreaker back in under the bottom rope and tries to follow him in, but Stonebreaker is quicker, stomping on the back of Turner's head. Stonebreaker with an Irish whip and an attempted backdrop, but Turner anticipates, rolls across Stonebreaker's back while grabbing his head, and plants him with an inverted DDT.] SL: Eight minutes gone, two minutes remaining in this match! TD: Steve, put that book down, we've got a match to do here! SR: All right, just one more, Dross-man... "Hotter than a fresh-[BLEEPED] fox in a forest fire"! TD: Somehow, I don't think you'll be asked to host this year's "IIWF Chronic Priapsy Telethon" after all. [Turner climbs to the top rope and gives the universal signal for the TNT elbowdrop. The fans go wild! But Stonebreaker is up quickly, knocking the legs out from under him. Turner lands hard, crotch-first on the top turnbuckle.] SR: Yee-owtch! Cheesecake can go back up north and sing soprano for The Nylons now! [Stonebreaker screams "Avalanche!" and delivers a diamond cutter! HUGE crowd pop!] TD: Oh my! A top-rope diamond cutter! I think that's what Stonebreaker calls the "Avalanche"! SR: Geez, I thought that was a corner splash. Why doesn't he just make it really confusing and call it a "Punch"? SL: Nine minutes gone, one minute remaining in this match! [After hitting the move, Stonebreaker can't quite gather himself up quickly enough to make the decisive pin, and Turner kicks out at two. Stonebreaker picks Turner up, and plants him with a belly-to-belly suplex. Referee Alfonso counts one... two... Turner just gets a shoulder up before three.] TD: Stonebreaker with everything but the kitchen sink! [A frustrated Stonebreaker slaps the mat, then attempts to climb the turnbuckle himself. Turner groggily gets back to his feet.] SR: Whoa, baby dolls, that ain't his territory. He'll pay for that. [Stonebreaker launches... and connects with a missile dropkick! Huge crowd pop!] TD: Amazing! Stonebreaker takes a page out of Turner's book! SR: I'll be damned. The big bastard can fly! SL: Thirty seconds! [Stonebreaker again can only get two-and-a-half. Stonebreaker with a front facelock, goes for a suplex... but Turner blocks it. Turner tries one, but Stonebreaker blocks it... now Stonebreaker with a suplex attempt, picks Turner up, slingshots him into a vertical position... and _drives_ him down with authority!] TD: ROCKSLIDE SUPLEX!!! SR: The Cheesecake just went flat! Whoo! SL: Ten seconds! [As the crowd counts down the seconds with Sparkplug, a groggy Stonebreaker drops to his knees and crawls over to make the pin.] TD: One! Two! Three! No! Two and seven-eighths! SR: Aw, crap. [The bell rings as the time limit expires.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, this match... is a draw! And, as a result, _both_ men are eliminated from the tournament! [The crowd boos this announcement as Stonebreaker kicks at the ropes in disgust, then grabs the barely-conscious Turner and throws him over the top-rope. Turner, also obviously unhappy, scrambles to his feet, gives Stonebreaker the universal "to hell with you" wave-off, and stumbles up the ramp.] SR: Waitaminnit, Dross! Both men are eliminated! That means one less piece o' crap tournament match that I have to sit through! Whoo-HOO! Poppa's a happy camper, folks! VOICE: It ain't that simple, boys! [Turner comes through the curtain, followed by Simon Lebec who is forcing him back with the threat of a baseball bat. Lebec is wearing a "Wrestle Hard" T-shirt. Lebec, with mic in hand] SL: I rassled too damn long an' too damn hard ta be goin' ta th' final wit a bye. Yer gonna get yer lil' Rocket ass back in th' ring an' finish this one. [At this point, Lebec hobbles out, coaxing Turner back to ringside with the bat.] SL: Y'all is gonna settle it right here, right now. Mr. Ref, restart th' match! [The timekeeper protests, stating that the match is over, but Lebec picks up the bell hammer and clocks the timekeeper over the head. Lebec then rigns the bell himself. Referee Earl Alfonso stares at Lebec for a moment, then decides to let the match continue. Big crowd pop!] SR: Aw, crap again. [In a flash, the two combatants are trading lefts and rights. Stonebreaker swings wildly, but Turner ducks. Stonebreaker's momentum swings him around facing the wrong way, at which point Turner nails him with an enziguiri. With his last ounce of reserve energy, Turner springs to the top turnbuckle.] TD: It might be... SR: It could be... TD & SR: IT IS! [Turner nails the TNT elbowdrop across the back of his fallen foe, turns him over, and gets the three-count and the victory. Immense crowd pop!] SL: Ladies and gentlemen... your winner, at 10 minutes and 53 seconds... the "Rocket Man", Timothy ennnnNNNNNN TURNer! TD: Listen to this crowd go ballistic for the Rocket Man! No! LOOK OUT! [The cagey Simon Lebec slips back into the ring and levels Turner with the baseball bat. Quickly, the NorthPac Coalition springs out of their seats and advances to protect their comrade, but Lebec just hobbles up the ramp, content with his damage.] SR: Now hold it just a second, Dross-man. Look at this replay! [While Turner is helped up the ramp by the NorthPac'ers, a replay is shown from the reverse angle. While Alfonso checks the shoulder blades and counts three, we can clearly see that Simon Lebec is hiding beind the ring, holding Stonebreaker down by the ankle, ensuring the victory for Turner.] TD: Good Grief! Not only did Lebec refuse the bye into the final, he virtually hand-picked Turner to be his opponent! [Stonebreaker comes to and, in a livid rage, takes off up the ramp.] SR: Ya see, baby dolls, Love Monk #9 might be a few paedophiles short of an abbey, but he's no dummy. He needs a warm-up match to stay in tune for the finals, and there's no way a battered and bruised Cheesecake is gonna put up a fight. Beautiful! TD: Whatever you say, Steve Roberts. Folks, that brings our first hour to an end here tonight. We'll be right back after these brief messages from our sponsors with three more tournament matches, and our huge, huge main event featuring Steve Kowalski and Joe Petrow. Don't move a muscle! [Cut to a wide-angle shot of the NorthPac Coalition helping Turner from the ring as the crowd gives an appreciative pop. Fade.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Gregg Osterhout | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | ghost@frii.com | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+