[A black screen. A deep voice-over cuts in:] VO: IIWF Saturday Night, 2 May 1998... The last hurrah for a broken champion? So many questions... [Cut to footage from last week's main event. The mass of bodies is awash with madness! The JJS is in a heated battle with the five man tornado that is Staley, Deathbringer, Annis and the mini-Bringers! The camera swings to referee Earl Alfonso in the ring, staring down at the still-unmoving form of the IIWF Champion!] VO: Did the Deathbringer end his career? Or did the Fury do it himself? TD: Oh, this is bad, Steve Roberts. Steve Kowalski has not moved for over a minute now. SR: This is a goddamn disgrace, Dross! The Fury should never have been allowed to wrestle tonight! Look at him! All that hot air that Spreadbury was spouting after Ring Wars 5 about being so concerned about wrestlers' safety was a load of crap! [The EMT crew hits the ring, and a spinal board is dragged across the canvas beside the prone figure of Steve Kowalski. The medics attempt to roll the Fury onto the board, but suddenly, Kowalski begins jerking uncontrollably as the crew attempts to secure him, and his eyes roll back white in their sockets as his face twists into a frightening, involuntary grimace.] VO: Is it neglected management or the hard pressure of a company's success that drove him down? TD: He's convulsing! Oh my goodness... SR: Get him out of here! And Spreadbury, if you're watching this... don't you [BLEEP]in' DARE let that man in that ring again until he's fit! You just might have killed him tonight, you sonofabitch! TD: We're... we're out of time! Folks, this is obviously a terrible situation, and it appears that IIWF Champion Steve "The Fury" Kowalski is in... well, he's in serious physical condition! SR: GET HIM OUT OF THERE! NOW! TD: ...so long, everybody! VO: It has been seven long nights. Where is Kowalski? Is he done? [Cut back to ringside, where the EMTs have finally managed to get Kowalski strapped down to the spinal board, and they quickly move Kowalski out of the ring and onto a waiting gurney. Kowalski is still unconscious, and as the gurney passes by the camera, we see a thin trickle of greenish bile trickling down the side of his face from the corner of his mouth. The crowd is still and silent as the crew races the Fury up the aisle towards the exit, and the only sound that can be heard in the Coliseum is the siren from the ambulance outside, as it waits to take away the IIWF Champion. Fade back to black.] VO: Where is the man with the answers? Where is the Fury? Tonight, the silence will be broken. [The opening graphics explode onto the screen:] ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/...hour one...\........|...|.......|....| LIVE! IIWF Coliseum, Portland, Oregon 9 May 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 to downtown Portland, Oregon! Welcome to the home of the world's number one wrestling organisation! Welcome to the IIWF Coliseum! [Another volley of fireworks erupts overhead as the fans break into a chant of "I-I-W-F! I-I-W-F!" The shot pans down past the clamouring fans at ringside; past the IIWF World Tag Team Champion, Team Sychosys, once again in the stands, wearing cut-out jeans, flashy black shirts with zippers all over them underneath their unbuttoned, torn and tattered jean jackets, scarfs and streamers tied around their wrists, and with their hair teased _really_ big; past the French announce table; past the Spanish announce table... and finally coming to rest on the familiar sight of the duo of Tim Dross and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. Dross is bedecked in his usual IIWF blazer, while Steve Roberts is wearing his trademark leather jacket, over a t-shirt which reads, "Free The Fury". However, the trademark grin is missing from Steve Roberts' face.] TD: Howdy, folks! We are just seven days away from the IIWF's second birthday, and we are coming at you _live_ and _loud_ with the hottest two hours of wrestling action you will see absolutely anywhere. I'm Tim Dross, and beside me, as always, is my tag team partner and broadcast colleague, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. SR: And Poppa Soundbite is not a happy Soundbite tonight, baby dolls. Not only do I have to endure every two-bit mic-jockey in every two-bit bush league proving that the Soundbite really is the hottest ticket in town by stealing my material, but, damn, Dross, it's been the longest seven days of my life. Longer even than the time I got trapped in that Tibetan nunnery armed only with a barrel of maple syrup. Now _that_ was the best weekend of my life. TD: I'm sorry, Steve Roberts, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. SR: The Fury, Dross. The _man_. The IIWF Champion. The hardest working, fightingest sonofabitch champion this damned organisation has ever seen. Steve Kowalski, the man we saw carted out of this arena seven days ago, unconscious, on a stretcher. There ain't no story bigger. TD: Yes, folks, as you saw at the top of the show, the condition of the IIWF World Heavyweight Champion is something of an unknown as we head into Birthday Bash in just seven days' time. Of course, Kowalski is signed to face Serge Annis in the main event at Birthday Bash -- but obviously there is a huge question mark hanging over that match right now. SR: You're damned right there's a question mark hanging over it, Dross. Kowalski shouldn't even be out of the hospital yet! TD: Let me relate the facts as we know them: Steve Kowalski collapsed during last week's main event against Deathbringer, and was rushed to hospital. It was suspected that he had suffered some kind of aneurysm -- and an operation of some kind took place late Saturday night to relieve the pressure on Kowalski's brain. The Fury regained consciousness on Sunday afternoon, but remained in severe condition and has not, to the best of our knowledge, been released from hospital. The catalogue of injuries Kowalski has sustained makes frightening reading, and it's a testament to the lengths the IIWF superstars are willing to go to in order to entertain us all... at great, great personal cost. SR: Dross, you wouldn't know a damned thing about it. You never put your portly ass on the line in a wrestling ring. You never heard the crowd chanting your name as you signalled for the Asai moonsault. You never blew a spot and ended up in traction for a month. Nobody ever botched a spot and _put_ you in traction for a month, which is even worse. TD: Well, that's... that's true. SR: And you wouldn't know, Dross, about what it feels like to lie in the hospital, when you're _the_ man, the one the fans come to see. You wouldn't know about that drive to go out and perform, no matter what it does to you. You kid yourself, Dross, you lie there and you kid yourself: I'll be okay, the adrenaline will get me through. And when you're standing behind that curtain, and your music kicks in, and those fans begin to chant your name... there's no feeling like it, Dross. TD: I have the utmost admiration for the athletes of our sport, Steve Roberts. I... SR: Shut it, Dross. Listen to the Soundbite here. Every one of the guys back there in the locker room knows what the Fury's going through. And if you ask them, you ask any real, hard-nosed wrestler, whether he'd rather rest up and heal or wrestle in the main event of a pay-per-view for the World Heavyweight Championship... what do you think they'd say, Dross? TD: Well... SR: They'd say there wasn't even a question to be asked, Dross. These guys love what they do. And that's the scary thing. The Fury is going to try and wrestle that match against Anus next Saturday Night, even if it kills him. I've never seen a guy die in the ring, Dross -- and I sure as hell don't want to see it on the Double Eye's second birthday. TD: Folks, the rumours are flying on the internet, on the hotlines, even in the front offices of the IIWF itself. Over the course of the week, the story must have changed half a dozen times. First, Kowalski had been released from hospital and was going to wrestle the match; second, he'd retired due to his injuries, and the main event was off; and this morning, and perhaps most alarmingly, the story was that Kowalski had suffered some kind of haemorrhage just last night and is back in the ICU. SR: Aw, man, Dross, I can't handle this. TD: But we are expecting the IIWF President down here any moment now, apparently to speak with Kowalski live in front of this capacity crowd... [There is a small pop as a figure emerges into the aisle, accompanied to Sting's "Jeremiah Blues (Part One)".] TD: And here comes Mr. Spreadbury now. Folks, let me just take a moment to tell you what else we have coming up tonight: an absolutely huge eight-man tag team main event is coming your way, pitting Serge Annis, Chris Staley, Icehawk and Tiger Claw against Deathbringer, the Coalition of Rick Williams and Derek Mota, and the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi. So many rivalries in that one match, Steve Roberts -- it's going to be out of control. SR: Come on, Dictator Danny, get in that ring and tell us what's going on! TD: Other incredible action includes Jimmy "the Meatman" Steele battling Valtharius the Mad one week removed from their extraordinary "Meatman Challenge", about which hopefully we'll hear more tonight. And one of the most eagerly-anticipated matches as far as this crowd is concerned is the battle between four Portland legends: Gunnar Gaines and Caleb Temple, who will be facing the Black Watch next week in a "Spin the Wheel, Make the Deal" match, tonight square off against the latest newcomers to the IIWF, Steve Sampson and the monstrous Robert Donovan. SR: Sure, Dross, it's going to be a great match, but it belongs down some bowling alley, not here in the big time. TD: I'll excuse that comment on the grounds of your emotional distress, Steve Roberts. We also have the last of the semi-finals in our two ongoing tournaments: in King of the Cruisers action, Big Greggy Cool faces the "Playboy" Ronnie D, and Simon Lebec squares off against Timothy N. Turner -- who apparently has some kind of announcement for us -- to decide who goes on to face Marty Warnett for the Intercontinental Championship at Birthday Bash next Saturday night. SR: Turner has a surprise for us? Let me guess... he really _does_ enjoy flower-arranging? TD: We'll see, Steve Roberts. Folks, we have some absolutely tremendous action coming your way here tonight, but right now, the IIWF President is in the ring. Let's go up and hear what he has to say. [Cut to the ring, in which stands the IIWF President, who removes his spectacles and places them in an inside pocket before taking a microphone from Sparkplug Lee. He stands in the centre of the ring, and raises the microphone to his lips to speak... only to be interrupted by a riotous chant of "SKULL-PUMP! SKULL-PUMP!" from the fans.] TD: The Fury's loyal fans are getting on the case of the IIWF President here. SR: Are you surprised, Dross? This is the guy who's sending Kowalski out here to kill himself every week. TD: I think that's a gross misrepresentation of the situation, Steve Roberts. And I understand that the IIWF President is actually out here to announce that the main event for next week's show has had to be changed. [Spreadbury looks around at the fans, an appeal on his face. Gradually, the fans quieten down, with just the occasional hostile shout rising above the murmur of crowd noise.] DS: Ladies and gentlemen, we'll get to our first match of the evening in just a few minutes. But before we do, it is my unfortunate duty to announce that the main event for next weekend's "Birthday Bash" pay-per-view... has been cancelled. [Huge mixed pop from the fans!] DS: I thought it best that I came out here in person to relate the details to you, the loyal fans of the IIWF, and let you know that this decision has not been taken lightly. In order to explain just why this has been necessary, please allow me to introduce to you... the IIWF World Heavyweight Champion... Steve "the Fury" Kowalski! [Huge pop from the fans... which dies down as they realise that "Don't Fear The Reaper" has not kicked in over the PA, and the curtains have not been swept aside to reveal the swarthy, swaggering form of the New Jersey Nightmare. Moments pass, and the fans quiet... only to explode once more as Kowalski finally makes his appearance. The New Jersey Nightmare pushes the curtain aside and _slowly_ limps down the aisle. The reaction of the crowd is deafening, chanting "Fu-ry!, Fu-ry!" Even with all the excitement, the crowd tones it down a bit, when they realise how slowly and awkwardly the once indestructible champion hobbles along. The noise drops further as the fans see his face: a swollen jaw and a bandanna that is obviously covering a cranial dressing. The once unruly maniacs along the aisleway are now stunned at the shadow of a man that walks before them.] TD: This is the longest walk I have ever witnessed. SR: Oh... Oh, I can't even look at him. He looks like a war victim. [Kowalski stops a second before climbing into the ring. His eyes meet with Steve Roberts'. Roberts just shakes his head and the Fury just smirks. Steadily, he climbs through the ropes, meeting the President in the ring. The crowd is energised again as the Fury waves and pumps his fist. President Spreadbury opens the conversation.] DS: Steve, You had me... Well, you had us all worried last week. I would be remiss if I didn't say that our collective hearts were in our throats when you fell to the mat after the Skullpump on the Deathbringer. You didn't wake up until Sunday, as a result of your haemorrhaging. [The crowd stirs at the release of the this information.] I'm not really sure what drives you any more. I don't really think it matters either. All I know is that no doctor in the country would sign a release for you to wrestle in time for the Birthday Bash! [The crowd boos at the statement!] Personally, I don't see the reason for letting the match go on. To protect yourself, I am asking you to step down from the match and from the IIWF until you can participate under a normal health pattern! [The crowd explodes at the last comment and goes nuts! The Fury himself is angry at the words but controls himself as he takes the mic from Spreadbury.] SK: Somethin' wrong, Danny? Yer special referee backed out? No way to keep a handle on the situation? Let me tell ya somethin'. Come hell or high water... I'm gonna be there! [The crowd gives a huge pop as Kowalski slowly nods his head.] SK: Nuthin' can say or do 'bout it! [turning to the crowd] Jus' in case everybody don't know, I gotta clause in my contract that says I pay my own insurance. Now if that don't make no sense to ya, then let me go on further. I ain't covered by the Double Eye, so they ain't liable. That means a doc can't keep me out. Otherwise this won't even be an issue. Right, Danny? DS: That's right, Steve. But I'm trying to convince you that you are making a grave error. And as it's never been a policy to strip a champion of his belt without him breaking the IIWF code, I am sorely tempted to do so. The committee feels that this meeting between you and Annis could have devastating effect on your career. [Kowalski looks more confused than angry at the President's comment.] SK: Who? DS: I said Annis. Serge Annis... your opponent on Saturday. TD: [over headset] How could he forget who he's meeting? Those two men have been feuding for what seems like forever! SK: Yeah. Right. Annis. DS: [furrowing his brow.] Steve? Let me ask you a question. SK: [annoyed] Out with it. DS: How many days until the Birthday Bash? SK: What the [BLEEP] kind of question is that? DS: How many days?! SK: Three?! Four?! I'm not really sure. What difference does it make? SR: [over headset] Oh my god. Do you... I can't say it. Dross, he can't get his bearings. He's confused. There's something wrong. He should be in treatment or something. TD: Oh my. It is becoming painfully apparent that the champion is not in fair state of mind. [The crowd is quickly catching on to the severity of the Fury' injuries. The rumble in the seats grows louder as the Fury is prodded.] SK: [suddenly becoming uncomfortable] I don't have time for this [BLEEP]! I'm outta here. [Suddenly, before the New Jersey Nightmare can leave. The crowd goes berserk when President Spreadbury shocks the world with his next words:] DS: Kowalski! Where the hell do you think you're going?! Who the hell do you think you are?! SK: Who am I? [With that Kowalski grabs the President by the collar and chokes up hard, almost lifting Spreadbury off the mat by his neck. The fans are loving every minute of it.] I'm the guy that's gonna give ya the thrashin' of a lifetime. I'm the meanest S.O.B. on the planet! I'm Steve "The... I'm Steve Kowalski! I'm Steve "The... SR: [over headset] This is horrible! Dammit, Spreadbury, you've made your point! He's hurt! Everyone knows that! Don't belittle him anymore! TD: [over headset] Steve, calm down. Cooler heads... SR: [over headset] Screw that. Steve's my friend and he in a bad way! [Spreadbury pulls away from Kowalski's grasp and proclaims...] DS: That's all I need to see. The main event is cancelled! Kowalski, your cranial swelling has damaged you far beyond your ability to defend yourself! It's a miracle you have lasted this far. As much as it pains me to say... you will _not_ wrestle at the Birthday Bash! SK: Screw that! I'm gonna be there! I'm gonna clean house an' I'm gonna settle this bull[BLEEP] once an' fer all! I don't care who's there. I ain't gonna lose this belt! Ya gotta get someone to take it from me! Ya hear me, ya little toad?! No one, no how is gonna... [As if Spreadbury's bravado before didn't shock you, he takes it a step further. Saying it! Saying what is on everybody's lips, but wouldn't dare to speak. Some call it blasphemy, some call it the truth. Either way, he has just crossed the line!] DS: Don't you get it, you idiot?! Hasn't anything I have said to you sunken in?! YOU CAN'T WIN! ANNIS WILL KILL YOU! Is that how you want to be remembered?! As the man that didn't know when to say "when"?! SR: Go to hell, Danny! [The words hit Kowalski like a freight train. Like he just hit a brick wall. The New Jersey Nightmare is shocked. Partly at the intensity of Spreadbury's words, and partly at their content. For a second Kowalski looks tired, haggard. Then he sparks to life! Grabbing the President and slapping him in the mug!] SK: Does that feel like I'm outta gas, Danny?! [Before Spreadbury can retort, Kowalski clips him with a right to the ribs! The President falls to his knees! The crowd is on their feet!] Does that feel like the punch of a dead man?! [Slap!] Did you remember that last one?! [Slap!] I can do this all night! Wanna try me? [Before the Fury lays another bitch slap on the President, he yells...] DS: [gasping] Okay! You want your damn match... you have it! But I just want to tell you one thing, you Neanderthal, I hope he tears you _apart!_ SK: Only one person is getting torn apart tonight, Dan... and that's YOU! TD: [over headset] Where's security!?! The President is about to be Skullpumped! SR: [over headset] And he deserves every last bit of it! [They know it! They can feel it! They call for it! "Skullpump!" echoes throughout the arena, with no help in sight. Kowalski hooks both arms. He has never looked more live in the past weeks. In what is the most devastating move in wrestling, the employee will fire the employer... ...But... With all that adrenaline pumping... With all that blood rushing... Rushing from the heart... To the head... A very brittle head. Before Spreadbury can be lifted high, he is dropped by the wayside, rolling. Kowalski... collapses! He falls on all fours, straining to keep his balance. The President on the other hand, knows an opportunity when he sees it. He bails up the aisle and into the safety of the JJS, screaming all the way back about, "You'll get your match! Your last one!" The Fury struggles to his feet and leans on the ropes, yelling at Spreadbury all the way!] SR: [over headset] I can't take this anymore! TD: [over headset] Steve! SK: Yer damn right I got my match! SR: When are you going to learn!?! [Kowalski is caught off-guard by Steve Roberts. The "Soundbite" walks over and confronts the champ.] SK: Look, Steve, I'm gonna wreck that dirty punk! Just tune in on... SR: This ain't an interview, Fury! I don't want you to wrestle! [BLEEP] all the kayfabe! I don't give a rat's ass who's watching! Steve, I don't have a lot of respect for anyone. Except you! Since you walked into this place, two years ago, we've been buddies. And, man, I'm here to tell you... don't do it! SK: I'm the champ an' a champ's gotta stand tall. An' that's what I gotta do. SR: It's not about the belt, Steve. You think you take a few months off you won't get your shot when you come back? This fed loves you! You will be knocking them dead in a few... SK: No! Ya don't understand! This belt... this title -- it's all I have! I ain't never been able to keep money. I spent most of it when I tried to get back in this fed after I was banned. I don't have much use fer cash anyways. I ain't got no family, 'cept my ol' man an' he's a bastard. I only do one thing! Wrestle is that one thing! If I learned one thing it was ya may only one shot at this. I lost the title in seven days my first time... I ain't never lettin' go again! SR: I lost a lot of friends in my time and I don't want to lose another one. You know I'm a straight shooter. Steve, buddy, I'm begging you... pull back! I'm not saying you will lose. I'm not saying you will win. I'm just saying that you won't walk from that ring after it's over. SK: Maybe not. SR: Maybe nothing! We're talking life and death. I don't have any friends but you. And, friend, the fan will love whether you live or die. I want you to live! I want you to be around, so you can tell me how tough you are! So you can drink a whole [BLEEP]load and order one more! So you tell me all the crazy crap you got locked up in that noggin of yours! But most of all... I want you to live. Please say you won't do it. [The sincerity in Roberts' voice is heart-wrenching. And the champion is touched. The obvious friendship that goes beyond humorous interviews, beyond fellow workers, beyond locker-room camaraderie shows between the two. But before the humbled Kowalski can make his answer heard, the lights in the arena drop to blackness. The crowd respond with a loud pop, and even louder as the four corners of the ring suddenly shoot up with six foot flames. The display of pyrotechnics is enough to startle Steve Roberts, and Kowalski still seems to be in a daze. A red spotlight hits the middle of the aisle, where the 6'8", 290 pound massive frame of Steve Kowalski's next opponent stands.] TD: [over headset] Oh my. Having Serge Annis come out when the champ's like this is not good. Kowalski could get seriously... no, he is seriously hurt, and Serge Annis attacking him won't make matters any better. [Serge Annis is dressed in his standard wrestling gear, which consists of black pants, boots and wrist pads. Annis holds a microphone to his mouth as he slowly stalks his way down the aisle towards the ring.] SA: Steve Kowalski... the roughest... the meanest... the toughest hombre that ever walked the IIWF. Reduced to this. Look at yourself, Steve. Look at what you have become. An irrational, irresponsible caveman! You can't think straight. Hell, you can barely even walk straight. Steve, you're a mess. [Annis walks up the ring stairs as he talks and steps over the top rope, locking eyes with the World Champion from the other side of the ring. The lights rise back from their red crimson glow.] SA: I come out here, and I see the President of the IIWF offering you chance not only to get out of this match with the title... but a chance to get out of it with dignity. The man is offering you a way out, Kowalski. And you're too stubborn to accept that. You want to go onto Birthday Bash as the champion... with your head held high and mighty. But you can't, Kowalski. We all know the truth. You're hurting. Last week, I told you that we all go through the same injuries you do. This week, after seeing you like this... I would say to you: take Spreadbury's package. Sign the deal. Escape with your life. [Serge takes a few steps closer to Kowalski. Despite the injuries, Kowalski keeps a valiant stare locked on the challenger. Serge stares at the champion with a puzzled, perplexed, and questioning look.] SA: They are offering you a way out, Steve. Personally speaking... I don't want you to take the offer. I want you to go on to Birthday Bash. I want you to go into that match at one hundred percent. I want to wrestle the best damn pay-per-view main event that this federation has ever seen! [Serge points a finger at the champion.] SA: And above all else... I want your title. [Serge spins around and walks a few steps away from the champion, as the crowd starts chanting the famous words, "Skull-Pump! Skull-Pump!" Serge turns his head, and looks back at the world champion.] SA: But that isn't the way it's going to happen. No... even if you make it to the match, you're going in at way less than one hundred percent. You're going in hurt and injured. It's like throwing a piece of meat to a lion. You're going to be chewed up... and beaten. Because at this point in time, Kowalski... you're a beaten man. It won't take much to finish you off. SK: Let's make one thing [BLEEP]in' clear! Ya can point fingers, jus' like the rest of'em. I am gonna walk in that ring... Ya are gonna meet the challenge of yer life... This match is goin' on! [Serge spins around to look straight at the World Champion.] SA: You still don't get it, do you?! I will tear you apart at Birthday Bash! I will put a bloody end to your reign as World Champion! I will hurt you, Kowalski! And you have the chance to escape this match with your life... with dignity. And you're throwing it all away because of your goddamned stubbornness! Enough is enough, Kowalski! It's time to admit you were defeated. Maybe not by me... maybe not by Deathbringer. But by the IIWF. It's over, Kowalski. So don't go out with your tail tucked between your legs, and on a stretcher. You know you can come back. You can start off, where you left off. SK: Until ya learn how to walk like a champ, don't try to talk like one, Anus! Come Saturday, I'll find the energy to whip ya! I'll make a pact with the Devil if I gotta! I know yer gonna send me bouncin' from pillar to post, but ya ain't gonna get it done! 'Cause I'm better... straight fact! SA: Fine... just throw your goddamned life away like that! I don't care. I tried to be nice about this whole thing, and you're out here acting like a complete jackass, questioning anything and everything someone does for you. I'm not going to hit you tonight, Kowalski. You need your rest. But at Birthday Bash... _friend_... I'm not going to hold back on you, just because you're injured. Right now, I stare at a broken man... But at the Birthday Bash, I'll be looking at the IIWF's World Champion. The man I have to beat in order to keep my promise… the man I have to destroy... in order to keep my sanity. I put up with three months of probation... three months of a personal Hell, all for the chance at that world title. Now, I'm off probation. Nothing is holding back the Epitome of... The Lethal Protector. At Birthday Bash, there will be no excuses, because you had your chance... but you blew it. When the IIWF World title is around my waist, Steve, don't come crying to my shoulder, because I will have no remorse... for what I am going to do to you. [Annis stares over at Kowalski, with the threat of violence hanging in the air. The chants of "Skull-Pump! Skull-Pump!" grow louder as the two continue to fix their icy cold stares onto each other. Annis is the first to break the stare-down, as he turns his head away from the champion. Serge steps back over the ropes and hops down to the floor, turning his head back and staring at the World Champion, left in the ring. Annis makes his way up the aisle, still looking back at his soon to be opponent.] SA: You're a goddamned fool, Kowalski... and someone once told me: there shall be no mercy... for the damned. [Annis finally turns his head, and continues on his way up the aisle. Kowalski suddenly looks very weary, and tosses his microphone down to the canvas. He looks across at Steve Roberts, who shakes his head. Roberts drapes his arm around Kowalski's shoulder, and the two men exchange a few more words. "Don't Fear The Reaper" kicks in over the PA system as Roberts helps Kowalski from the ring and the two men head up the aisle. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside, where Dross is now seated alone.] TD: Well, folks, clearly this is a very serious situation: Steve Kowalski is in absolutely no shape to wrestle Serge Annis next week -- but the match will go on. I'm sure Steve Roberts will rejoin me here at the broadcast table in a few moments, but right now, we should get to our first match. In seven days, we'll see some of the hottest tag team matches the IIWF has ever seen -- and none more so than the Fabulous Ones battling the Machines in a "Loser Leaves Town" match. Plus we'll see the Benjamins take on fellow newcomers Robert d'Artois and Reiner Ver Magnusson -- now known as True European Excellence -- in their third meeting. Tonight, however, it's the Fabs and the Europeans squaring off against the Machines and the Benjamins in eight-man tag team action. Let's get up to the ring for this one! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Fabulous Ones & True European Excellence vs. |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| The Machines & The Benjamins ....................................................................... WRITER: Dan Kondziela [Sparky steps into the ring with an almost not-dorky flourish. He seems to be very chipper tonight.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to BIRTHDAY BASH! [Tim Dross smacks himself in the forehead.] TD: Uh, obviously Sparky is a little early here, folks. Birthday Bash is next Saturday night -- call your local cable operator for details! SL: Oh, uh, sorry. Welcome to another edition of IIWF Saturday Night! [Sparky is greeted by the sound of a pin dropping. He complains about getting no respect.] SL: First, weighing a total of 542lbs, D'Artois and Magnusson -- TRUE EUROPEAN EXCELLENCE! [The crowd seems a little disinterested in the hard luck team. Most people seem to be talking to their neighbour.] SL: And their partners... [Sparky stops as he awaits Ms. Miki's usual interruption. "Little Miss Dangerous" by Ted Nugent plays over the PA, but no one comes out... except Steve Roberts, who re-emerges from the locker room area and returns to the broadcast table.] SR: Am I back in time? Where is she? I want to see that gorgeous piece of ass. TD: Maybe that slap she took from Paul Wong Wednesday night has kept her from showing up here tonight? SR: I told you that Wong guy was gay. [Then, "Kiss of Death" by Dokken plays over the PA, but still nobody comes out. The crowd starts booing as the Fabs seem to have no showed the program.] TD: Now, I'm surprised they didn't show up. SR: Maybe the Baddest Thangs Running injured them Wednesday night? TD: I don't think so, the Fabs were on "Countdown" yesterday and looked fine. ["Peter Gunn" by Henry Mancini begins playing as the crowd boos even louder.] SR: Well, where the hell are they at? TD: Beats me. SR: Probably having a four-way in the locker room. I'm tellin' ya, that's what's wrong with society today. Nobody can keep their pants... [CRASH!] TD: HEY! Agito Nakajima has just come tumbling through the curtain. [Paul Wong follows him out with Sho Satsuma pressed over his head. Simon O'Neal is close by with a steel chair in hand.] TD: Whoa! Apparently the Machines attacked the Fabulous Ones backstage. What are they doing?! [Wong holds Satsuma as far up as possible... then drops him!] SR: HOLY COW! HOME RUN! Man, he decked him! TD: Oh my, folks, as Paul Wong dropped Sho, Simon O'Neal swung the chair and connected directly with Sho's head. Hey, here comes Agito. [The recovered Nakajima tackles the Machines over the barrier and into the crowd. As the Disciples throw fish at the teams, the Sychopaths strike back by hurling worms and fish sticks at point blank range. The Disciples quickly stop their attack.] SR: Hey, what's up with Crazy Joe? He looks like he should be with the Down Girls. TD: Apparently, he's mocking the Down Boys. SR: Damn, that's some logic you've got there, pal. Tim Dross, stater of the blatantly obvious. [Sparky shrugs and leaves the ring. Immediately, the Benjamins come charging out of the locker room and dash into the ring to meet the Euros head on. The ref seems a bit confused but signals for the bell to start the match. Reiner Ver Magnusson clashes with Joe while D'Artois trades shots with Bobby. The ref manages to pull D'Artois and Bobby to their corners. Meanwhile, on the outside, Sho nails Paul Wong with the Gojira Blast superkick. Agito shoulder tackles O'Neal into a row of chairs, then picks him up and piledrives him into one. Agito comes over and holds Wong. Sho goes for a spinning heel kick, but Wong ducks and Sho hits Agito. Wong grabs Sho from behind and executes a belly-to-back suplex on a loose chair. O'Neal starts giving shots to Agito's head with that loaded glove of his. Meanwhile, Magnusson outmuscles Joe and nails him with a powerslam, followed by an elbowdrop. He drops for the pin, but gets only a one-count.] TD: Wow, so much action we don't know where to turn to! SR: The outside, dammit! At least there's a chance we'll get the juice out there. [O'Neal DDT's Agito right into another loose chair. He picks him up and brainbusters him onto the chair. Sho tries fighting Wong off, but that chairshot from earlier on has severely dazed him, so anything he tries doesn't have much power, especially on the large Asian-American. Wong simply chokeslams Sho right onto the concrete. Magnusson hits a leaping elbow and then tags out to D'Artois. Robert executes a spinning toehold on the large Benjamin. Joe's legs are too long however, and he quickly turns it into a headscissors. D'Artois screams out in pain as Joe's large thighs are squeezing the air out of him. D'Artois furiously shakes his head when the ref asks if he wants to submit. Magnusson extends the rope out to Robert's hand and the ref calls for the break. Joe goes for a powerslam, but Robert slides out behind Joe and hits him with an enzuigiri. The angered Frenchman now stomps away at Joe's back, taunting Bobby so he'll get angered and enter the ring. He does just that, and as the ref goes over to hold him back, Reiner enters and the Euros lift Joe into the air for a vertical suplex. The two look ready to finish the match. Reiner holds Joe in the Magnusson Breaker, while D'Artois climbs to the top. Robert then leaps off with a legdrop, causing Reiner to drop Joe in the Death Valley Driver, one of Joe's moves. Reiner goes for the cover, but the ref is still occupied. When he does turn around, he doesn't count, because the big German is not the legal man. While the Euros go crazy, Joe goes and tags Bobby, which the ref does catch out of the corner of his eye. The littler Benjamin enters the ring a house of fire, levelling D'Artois with a clothesline and dropkicking Magnusson. He then runs to the opposite corner and waits for TEE to get up. When the two groggy team-mates rise, Bobby launches himself into his corkscrew body-block! The fans go wild for the older Benjamin. Bobby leaping clotheslines Reiner over the top rope. He picks up Robert and nails him with a spinning suplex. Bobby covers but gets only a two-count. Joe has recovered and goes outside to meet the rising Magnusson.] SR: Ya know, I'll give credit. These guys are putting on a decent match, considering there's a brawl outside. Although I still say there's a little "Family Tree" going on, if you know what I mean. TD: Unfortunately, I do. SR: Oh, so you and Hoss are experienced, huh? TD: Please, Steve Roberts! SR: Hey, where the hell's Miki? I need something to look at. Godammit, somebody ship a piece of ass out here right now! I don't care if it's Marissa Monet or Melody, just get SOME fine lookin' lady out here. [Joe hits Reiner with a hotshot to the steel guardrail. But just as he goes for a gorilla press, Sho Satsuma barrels into him from behind, courtesy of Paul Wong. Joe and Reiner hit the deck. Bobby climbs to the top in preparation for the Shooting Star Press. Just as he's about to leap, Wong throws Sho into the side of the ring, Sho's outstretched arm nailing the referee, who was just standing there. The ref goes down just as Bobby hits. Bobby is on top of D'Artois long enough for a thirty-count. The fans are going crazy as Bobby should have the match won by now, but the ref is out. Suddenly, the groggy Reiner enters the ring and nails the Benjamin with a double axehandle. Bobby slumps off D'Artois. Reiner puts Robert on top of Bobby then goes to take out the recovering Joe. Suddenly, The Fabulous Ones are slid into the ring. As they rise, the Machines follow in. All four teams are brawling away in the ring, trading shots with each other. The ref gets up and sees all eight men swinging away. He shrugs and calls for the bell.] TD: Well, I believe that the ref has thrown this one out. SR: DAMN! Just as it was getting good. SL: The referee has thrown this match out. He has declared this match a NO CONTEST! [The fans boo as they were only just getting into the action. The Fabs and the Machines brawl all the way back to the lockers. The Europeans get out of the ring and showboat to the crowd as if they'd won. The Benjamins nod at each other, then leap over the top, nailing suicide dives on the two. The officials and the JJS quickly come out to escort both teams to the locker room. The fans, still a little miffed at the fast ending, cheer for the fast-paced action they'd just witnessed.] TD: Wow! Can you imagine what'll happen next week? The two matches at Birthday Bash that happen between these teams will be absolutely wild. And one team won't even be around even more! SR: Dammit, where's the ass? I gots needs, Dross. Needs! TD: The rivalry between the Fabulous Ones and the Machines remains at fever-pitch going into their huge "Loser Leaves Town" match next weekend at Birthday Bash -- and there appears to be no end to the feuding of the young Benjamins with True European Excellence, and they'll square off on the Free For All. Two other athletes who will be going at it next weekend are Jimmy "the Meatman" Steele and Valtharius the Mad -- and we have a preview of what we can expect in their "Meatman Challenge" right now, as they square off in regular singles competition. Let's get up to the ring. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Jimmy "the Meatman" Steele vs. Valtharius the Mad |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: Jason Lake [Sparkplug Lee tries to step through the ropes, but somehow manages to slip and get his foot entangled in the ropes. The crowd laughs as Sparkplug, hanging upside-down, thrashes about in his vain attempts to free himself. While yellow-shirted security comes down the ramp to help, Sparkplug decides that the show must go on, pulls the index card from his vest pocket, and reads.] SL: Ahem! Um... this next bout is scheduled for ONE fall! [On that note, the guards free Sparkplug from his leg trap, and he falls on his head.] SR: All right! Sparkplug takes a bump! That beats the hell out of the entire previous match. SL: OW! Umm... coming down the aisle, from Emeryville, California, and weighing in at 274 pounds... Jimmy... "the Meeeeeeaaatman" STEuhhhhllll! [Jimmy Steele appears at the top of the rampway, the raucous crowd chanting "MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!" at the very instant they get a glimpse of the Purveyor of Porcine Parts. Slack-jawed, with a wild shock of black hair, the Meatman cuts an imposing figure, his swarthy arms like twin towers constructed upon his massive girth. He wears a bloody apron and carries a 10 pd. slab of beef.] TD: Listen to this crowd give it up for The Meatman! [The crowd pop reaches a fever intensity as Steele enters the ring and poses for the crowd. Signs can be seen in the audience, including "JIMMY STEELE: THE BARON OF BEEF" and "LET'S GO DOWN TO THE SPITFIRE GRILL."] SL: [still rubbing his head] And HIS opponent... being led to the ring by his manager, Karachel... from Rome, Italy, and weighing in at _525_ pounds... Valtharius... THE MAD!!! [Over the P.A. system, we hear the sickening crunch of bones snapping, slowly repeating, over and over, followed somewhat incongruously by a loud burst of... well...] SR: [with a bad French accent] "Flatulence"! The smell of a man... in a shiny brown can! TD: I have no idea what you're talking about, Steve. SR: 'Course you don't, moron! [On cue, the trained "L'il Soundbiters" start chanting "Toot, Soundbite, Toot!"] SR: Get a life, my children! [Meanwhile, at the top of the ramp, we see Karachel trying, oddly enough, to keep his wrestler from charging down the ramp and into the ring. The struggle is lost, as Valtharius the Mad slaps his manager down to the floor and lumbers as quickly as he can into the ring, yelling "BUDDY!!! MEATHEAD VALTHARIUS BUDDY!!!"] TD: This is truly a bizarre scene. No amount of supernatural jiggery-pokery can control this behemoth! SR: I saw a movie called "Jiggery-Pokery" once. TD: Oh? And... SR: Awful! Some short guy with slicked-back hair came into the theatre and just wouldn't stop pullin' the pud. He was screaming "Miss Yvonne!" or something. The cops had to come in and beat his sorry ass down. [Meanwhile, back in the ring, Valtharius takes one look at the Meatman, and grabs him in a _giant_ bearhug. Steele thrashes madly, trying to escape, but Valtharius just strokes Steele's hair a bit and licks the side of his face.] TD: Ew... looks like Valtharius has definitely taken a shine to the Man of Meat! SR: Aw, Geez, Dross... how gay can this show get? Just put these crackers in the tag division and get on with the next match, already! TD: You seem to have more than just a little problem with... with... SR: Say it, Dross! Ass pilots! Rectal rangers! Pole-smokin' queens! TD: Actually, I was going to say that you have some unresolved issues regarding the abuse your father subjected you to. SR: Don't even _think_ about goin' there, Dross! [Steele uses a bell-ringer to escape the hold. Valtharius clutches at his ears for a moment, then stares at Steele and exclaims, "WHY YOU BUDDY HIT FRIEND VALTHARIUS?!?" Immediately, Valtharius locks on another bearhug, and starts licking at Steele's face again.] SR: Waiter! Check please! TD: Hang on a moment... I'm getting word that we have... a phone call? Yes, Rusty Priske is patching a phone call over the headsets. Who could it be? SR: Probably Jerry Springer trying to book our wrestlers again. TD: Uh, hello? VOICE: [over the phone] Good evening, Mr. Dross. TD: Who is this? VOICE: My name is Dexter Gilbreath. SR: Dexter _what_?! VOICE: Dexter Gilbreath. And if you'll excuse me, I have a message for you all. Look in that ring. There they are, ladies and gentlemen. Fat for my slaughter. First, my boss: the butcher of Emeryville. Second, some encephalic moron who was idiot enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. How will it feel, "Meatman," when your knees are up to your ears in a cage? Drugged like the cattle you have drugged for decades? Encaged like the swine you have tortured? How will you like it, Valtharius, when you are _REALLY_ treated like an animal? How will it feel, Jim Steele, when the screams of the cows and the pigs and the chickens are joined by a scream of your own? [There is a pause.] TD: Are you done yet? Hello? [There is a click as Gilbreath cuts off the call.] SR: Whoa, Dross, what a wacko. TD: I apologise for that interruption, ladies and gentlemen -- that was apparently Mr. Dexter Gilbreath, an employee of Jimmy Steele, it would seem. And apparently this man has something to do with next weekend's "Meatman Challenge" at Birthday Bash -- a match about which we still know absolutely nothing. SR: Well, we know it had better not suck like this one. [Again, Steele manages to free himself from the grasp of Valtharuis, this time by pounding him on the head several times, raking the eyes _and_ biting him on the forehead. The crowd pops as Valtharius staggers back in pain. Karachel has finally made it to ringside, and screams at his charge to attack the Meatman. Valtharius takes one look at Jimmy Steele, and...] SR: THAR SHE BLOWS! [Valtharius goes absolutely off his chump, arms spread wide and screaming "NO MORE FRIEND!!! CARROTSMELL VALTHARIUS ONLY FRIEND!!! ME NOT LIKE MEATHEAD NO MORE!!!" He then shouldertackles Steele to the mat and begins laying into him.] TD: Oh no! Giant fists of fury are crashing into Meatman's skull! And Karachel is laughing in demonic glee! This... this is just about out of control! [Steele manages to get in a few punches of his own, enough to scramble to his feet and back into the corner, but Valtharius follows in and is still punching away while Steele covers up as well as he can.] TD: Folks... this is carnage. Absolute carnage. Who knows what lenghts these two will go to at the Birthday Bash PPV? You have to call your cable operator and get in on the action! SR: Shill, Dross, Shill! [In the midst of this beating, "Sanguinary" Steve Manning appears at the top of the ramp, walks down to ringside, and takes a seat at the French commentary table.] TD: That... that's "Sanguinary" Steve Manning! What's he doing here? SR: Why don't you leave questions like that to Sartre or Foucault? I'd bet you're a closet existentialist, Dross. Me, I prefer the discourse of hermeneutics. TD: What the hell are you talking about, Steve? SR: I have absolutely _no_ idea. Bring out the T 'n' A valets! Whoo! Poppa Soundbite needs some sugar! TD: Let's listen in to the feed from the French announcers' table and see what's going on with the Sanguine One! [Play-by-play man Bernie Parent and his colour colleague Andre "Moose" Dupont are getting nervous as Valtharius approaches. Manning seems less concerned.] AMD: Eh, Manning, what do you t'ink of Steele, dere? SM: Oooh, j'ai frissons, Moose. Il est trop stupide et trop lent. Et je suis trop intelligent pour lui. BP: Il peut parler francais! Mozusse! [Valtharius is still laying lefts and rights into the Meatman. Valtharius grabs Steele by the arm and starts to Irish whip him out of the corner. Manning sees an opportunity to strike Steele, and springs to actions, grabbing his steel chair and leaping over the announcers' table. Manning swings, but Steele reverses the irish whip and it is Valtharius who is struck by the chair.] AMD: Calisse! [Valtharius spins around, and his focus turns completely to Manning. Karachel tries to get Valtharius to get back to the match, but Valtharius is already climbing over the top rope, fixated on Manning. Steele, meanwhile, slumps into the corner, and gives some kind of "high sign" toward the entranceway.] BP: FRAPPE LA MOUE!!! [Valtharius picks Manning up by the forehead, and throws him straight down into the table, which snaps in half like a twig. Monitors and cables spill over Manning as he lays there, spasmatic.] BP: Christ sur un craquelin! AMD: Seigneur sur une saltine! [Cut back to Dross and Roberts] SR: Holy [BLEEP]! TD: Manning just went through the table like a hot knife through butter! And now... wait a second... what in God's name is _that_?! [The entire crowd turns, slack-jawed, as a crane, driven by Meatboy, enters the scene at the top of the rampway. Suspended at the top of the crane is an absolute monstrosity to behold -- a horrific construct, about ten feet tall. It's made of spare animal parts. Bones, muscle, and fresh organs. Its face is a cattle skull ringed with a horse's mane, and its most prominent attribute is its chest region. Its mammary glands are two giant cow udders. It is lined with Christmas tree lights. There is a transmitter near its head, and a live cattle prod buried in its bosom.] TD: Sweet Mother of God! SR: Hey, I think I saw this at a Pink Floyd concert once... [Meatboy manoeuvres the construct so that it's near ringside. Then, over the transmitter, a voice module making his words high-pitched and eerie, Meatboy speaks, and the cattle skull moves up and down as if it's the construct speaking.] CONSTRUCT: VALTHARIUSssss!! I AM MEATRICcccce!! [The crowd pops wildly as Valtharius stares in wonder at Meatrice, with a glimmer in his eye. Referee Rob Shick, particularly adept at spotting phantom infractions, finally awakes from his reverie, and begins to put a count on Valtharius. Karachel senses that there is trouble brewing, and tries to direct Valtharius back into the ring, but Meatrice speaks again.] M: DON'T LET HIM COME BETWEEN USsss, MY LOVE! I AM YOURSssss!!! [Valtharius, almost in a trance, walks toward Meatrice. Meatboy manouevres the ghastly construct so that it is right in front of Valtharius. Valtharius embraces Meatrice... and receives a mighty shock from the cattle prod buried in her chest.] SR: Yee-owtch! Reminds me of this 'ho I met at a bar last week... [Valtharius, inexplicably, does not fall down. Instead, the shock seems to leave him even more enamoured of Meatrice. Meatboy backs the crane up the rampway, and Valtharius follows. Finally, Referee Rob Shick makes the ten-count and calls for the bell.] SL: Ladies and Gentlemen... the winner, by a countout... Jimmy... "the MEEEEEEEEAAAATMANNN" STEEEEE-UHHHLLL!!! [The crowd pops madly as the barely-conscious Meatman has his arm raised in victory. Valtharius and Meatrice disappear behind the curtain, chased by Karachel. Steele regains his senses and follows. Manning eventually gets to his feet, mutters something about his cattle prod, and exits.] TD: What a wild, wild match, folks! We'll be right back with more action in just a moment, after details of the IIWF's latest fan outreach opportunity! Don't go away. [IIWF World Heavyweight Champion Steve Kowalski and World Cruiserweight Champion Icehawk recline on the deck of a ship, wearing bermuda shorts and Hawaiian shirts. A scantilly clad serving girl brings a tray of drinks: a Shirley Temple for Icehawk, and a tall beer for Kowalski. The two remove their drinks, give a polite grin and toast.] VO: This summer, the IIWF superstars will take it easy on the decks of the SS Tottenham... [To their surprise, the two grapplers are joined by a family of four, who begin to pester the two, the father patting Kowalski on the back and the kids tugging at Icehawk's arms.] VO: ...Be there with them! ["IIWF Full Steam Ahead" logo appears on the screen!] VO: The IIWF is offering a chance to spend two weeks on a Mediterranean cruise with all your favourite wrestlers as we present IIWF Full Steam Ahead! [Deathbringer looms over the shoulder of an annoyed, venerable captian in the bridge.] CAPTAIN: No, Mr. Deathbringer, we will not be seeing the Achille Lauro, Titanic or Andrea Doria today. VO: The ship departs from Southampton and will make calls at Lisbon, Barcelona, Marseilles, Pisa, Naples, Syracuse, Athens, Istanbul, Cairo and Casablanca. [Shot of a shuffle board game with Derek Mota, Sgt. Rey Garcia, Marty Warnett and a chubby passenger. The passenger celebrates a great shot, to which Mota responds by tossing him overboard.] VO: [in rapid legalese] To sign up, call 1-800-GET-IIWF today and use your credit card. Trip is $800 and does not include airfare to London, ground transportation, meals, entertainment lifeboat passage or guarantee of personal safety. [The American Dragons look bemused as a tot dumps sand on them.] BI: They want this for thirteen days? VO: All proceeds go to the Simon Bratt Scholarship Fund. [Tim Dross and Becky LaRue recreate the "Flying" Scene from "Titanic" On the aft of the Liverpool.] BL: What's that big white floating mountain in the water? [Fade. Cut back to ringside.] TD: Book your place on the IIWF cruise today, folks -- and don't forget to call your local cable operator to order Birthday Bash, which is just seven days away. Four teams who'll be making big waves at the Bash are the Natural Predators, American Dragons, Night Patrol, and the Black Watch -- and right now we're set to see those eight men in tag team action. Let's get up to the ring! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Natural Predators & American Dragons vs. |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Night Patrol & The Black Watch ....................................................................... WRITER: Mike Sonby [Sparkplug heads into the ring. Just before he begins, a young lady in the front row lifts up her halter top, and flashes the ring announcer. The cameras, sadly, are not in position to see anything. But Sparkplug is.] SL: I... uh... We... She...... SR: Oh, come on, Sparkplug! You've got a tab at the Beaver Trap. You've seen bazookas before! TD: You never know what you'll see in the IIWF. And if this is surprising, wait until Birthday Bash! We... SR: Stop shilling, Dross. I think Sparkplug has finally stopped drooling. [Maybe. But he's turned around so as not to face the woman in question. They switch to the other camera for his announcements.] SL: Whoa. This next match is one fall with a thirty minute time limit! Introducing first, weighing a combined total of 534 pounds, led by Asst. DA Brenda Hawkings, here is Sgt. Rey Garcia and Lt. Jack Blazer, NIGHT PATROL! [The theme from "Dragnet" starts, and Night Patrol head into the ring, occasionally threatening to blast a fan with a nightstick. Hawkings leads her charges, and takes the nightsticks from them as they enter the ring.] SR: She could read me my rights any time. "You have the right to whip cream. If you give up this right, ice cream may be substituted instead..." TD: Mmmmm... Ice cream. I could use some Rocky Road right now. SR: Dross, you can be one real sick bastard at times. SL: Their tag team partners, weighing a combined 586 pounds, hailing from Glenfinnan, Scotland, here are Duncan and Andrew Macbeth, BLACK WATCH! [The skirl of "Heilan' Laddie" begins, and the Scottish pair walk down to a mixed response. They enter the ring, ignoring the fans, and nod at their partners.] SL: Their opponents, weighing a combined total of 1,181 pounds, led by Kuyler Greyson, here are Bear, Grey Phoenix, Joe Scalerio, and Bob Ivey, the NATURAL PREDATORS and the AMERICAN DRAGONS! ["Destination Eschaton" starts up, and the four wrestlers and one manager walk out en masse. They slap the hands of all of the fans as they approach ringside. Before the head into the ring, the American Dragons point at Night Patrol and dare them to attack.] TD: The American Dragons and Natural Predators showing a form of unity, even using the Natural Predator's music to enter by. SR: That's because the American Dragons choose music as well as they fight... which is, not at all. I mean, White Zombie? [The referee keeps Night Patrol and Black Watch away long enough for all eight men to enter the ring.] TD: Referee Dave D'Amato is going to have problems keeping things in order, with all of these people. [Ding! Ding! Ding! Andrew Macbeth steps in the middle of the ring for his team, while Bear steps out for his. The two power men size each other up, then go to lock up, but Bear ducks under the lock up, and nails Macbeth with a forearm shot. He hammers the back of Macbeth twice, sending Macbeth to his knees. Bear grabs Macbeth in a headlock, but Andrew shoves him into the ropes. On the rebound, Bear shoulderblocks Macbeth, sending him to the mat. Bear picks Macbeth up, but Macbeth rakes Bear's face. Blinded, Bear is knocked down by a clothesline from the large Scotsmen, then slammed to the mat. Andrew picks up Bear, but the Predators shocks Macbeth by blatantly choking him, only releasing on the four count.] TD: Bear seems willing to fight fire with fire in this match. SR: Is Serge around? [Bear bodyslams Macbeth, then drags him over to his corner and tags in Joe Scalercio. Scalercio climbs up to the top rope. Bear hiptosses Macbeth and holds his legs down as Scalercio leaps off with a diving headbutt. Scalercio covers, but only gets a one count. Scalercio grabs Macbeth in a headlock, but Andrew lifts him up into a back suplex, then makes the tag to his kinsman. Duncan enters the ring and drops an elbow onto Joe, then picks him up, whips him to the ropes, and delivers a powerslam on the rebound. He covers for a one count, then reaches up and tags in Andrew. The Macbeths throw Scalercio into the ropes, not seeing Scalercio tag the Grey Phoenix. They go for a double-backdrop, but Scalercio leapfrogs both teams and stops in his tracks. Black Watch turns around to face the American Dragon, and are caught from behind by a standing dropkick. Andrew stumbles, and Scalercio matches with a dropkick of his own. The Grey Phoenix picks up Andrew, and attempts a superkick... but Duncan sweeps out his leg, and the Grey Phoenix falls to the mat. The referee orders Scalercio and Duncan out of the ring.] TD: The referee was a little slow to clear the ring. SR: Are you kidding? He's happy only four guys are in right now. If an eight-way brawl breaks out, D'Amato won't be able to do anything but sit back and watch the carnage unfold. [Andrew drags the Grey Phoenix over to his corner, grabs Lt. Jack Blazer's head as well as the Grey Phoenix's head, and rams them together. Macbeth tags Blazer in, and he immediately grabs the Grey Phoenix and lifts him up for a reverse atomic drop. He charges for a clothesline, but the Grey Phoenix ducks under him, and rolls over towards his corner, where he tags in Bob Ivey. Blazer looks over at Ivey and immediately raises his hands in a motion for test of strength. Ivey stares straight into Blazer's eyes as they lock up in the middle of the ring. For a moment, neither man has an advantage. Then, Blazer's knees begins to buckle, and as Ivey adds on the pressure, Blazer falls to the mat. The referee asks for a submission, but Blazer refuses. The Macbeths enter the ring, drawing the ire of the referee, who order them back into the corner.] TD: Watch out for Garcia! [With the referee occupied, Rey Garcia enters the ring, taking the night stick offered by Brenda Hawkings, and blasts Ivey in the ribs with the night stick. He shoves the night stick out of the ring and heads back to the corner, hiding the evidence from the referee. Meanwhile, a large bruise forms on Ivey's ribs, and Blazer is now in control of the test of strength. Blazer kicks Ivey in the stomach and picks him up in a butterfly suplex, then reaches out and tags Duncan Macbeth. Macbeth attempt another headsmash with Blazer and Ivey, but Blazer shakes his head, refusing the move. Macbeth shrugs his shoulders, then lifts Ivey up in a tilt-a-whirl suplex. He covers for a two count.] TD: That nightstick may have been an early turning point in the match. Ivey is really in trouble there. SR: And this matters to me how? [Macbeth takes Ivey into the corner with a headlock, and comes out with a bulldog into the mat. He rolls over for another two count, then picks him up and tags in an eager Garcia. As Garcia enters the ring, Macbeth grabs him in a headlock, bringing the fans to their feet...] TD: Black Watch are turning on their partners! [...and uses Garcia's head as a battering ram into the injured side of Ivey.] SR: Nope... just smart tactics. It's good to use your head. It's better to use someone else's head. [Garcia doesn't like it, and yells at Macbeth while rubbing his head. Duncan points out Ivey on the mat, and Garcia forgets about Black Watch to go after his enemy. As Ivey slowly get to his feet, Garcia bounces off the ropes to nail Ivey with a flying forearm. Garcia grabs Ivey by the hair and tags in Blazer. Garcia legsweeps Ivey as Blazer clotheslines him, then covers for a count of 1...2...Kickout! Blazer picks Ivey up by the hair and slaps Ivey across the face before tagging in Andrew Macbeth. Macbeth enters the ring, grabs Ivey in a full nelson, and suplexes him to the mat. He covers for a count of 1...2...Kickout! Macbeth whips him to the ropes and goes for a backdrop, but Ivey catches him in a front facelock, straightens out Macbeth's arms, and plants him with a DDT!] TD: Ivey has been in the ring for a long time. He needs to tag out to someone. SR: You mean he needs to get out of tagging. Hell, everyone should. [Ivey rolls over towards his corner, reaches up for the tag, and finds Duncan Macbeth holding his ankle, preventing him from making the tag. Duncan stands up and grabs the other leg, then begins to turn over for the Boston Crab. Ivey starts to resist, and a test of strength develops. Just as Macbeth turns him over, Scalercio enters the ring, forcing Dave D'Amato away from the action... and unable to see the Grey Phoenix enter the ring and catch Macbeth with a superkick. Bear picks up Ivey and drags him right back into his corner, finishing just as D'Amato gets Scalercio back into the ring. Ivey reaches up and tags Bear into the ring. Bear climbs in and is met by a right fist from Duncan. Bear responds with a left chop, and a full-fledged brawl begins.] SR: It's about time we got some decent action! [Duncan. Bear. Duncan. Bear. Duncan. Bear. Finally, Duncan swings for a haymaker, but Bear ducks, and Duncan turns completely around from the force of the blow. Bear snaps on a full nelson, and begins to apply a ton of pressure to the hold, quickly bringing Macbeth to the mat. The referee asks for a submission, but is refused by Macbeth. Bear shows why he's considered one of the strongest men in the IIWF as he bends Duncan's head even further forward. Andrew enters the ring, followed by a slightly more reluctant Night Patrol. Before the referee can order them out, the Grey Phoenix and the American Dragons enter the ring, and an eight-way war starts up. The Grey Phoenix and Joe Scalercio double drop-kick Andrew Macbeth, while Lt. Blazer grabs Bob Ivey in a bearhug, and Rey Garcia comes off the ropes with a spinning leg lariat. Andrew Macbeth rolls outside the ring, only to be met with a plancha from the Grey Phoenix. Blazer continues to apply the bearhug while Garcia kicks the back of Bear's head, forcing a break of the full nelson. Scalercio nails Blazer, only to be met with a knife-edge chop from Garcia.] TD: This has completely broken down! SR: Finally... I never thought the Soundbite could be happy watching four tag teams, but this might have potential. [Scalercio and Ivey double whips Blazer into the corner, then double whip Bear into a splash onto Jack Blazer. Meanwhile, Duncan rolls out of the ring and nails the Grey Phoenix from behind, then works with Andrew to hits Phoenix with a double suplex on the floor. Bear rolls out to help his partner, but the Asst. DA makes her mark again.] TD: Pepper Spray! Right into the eyes of Bear! SR: Pepper Spray, night sticks... we need to complete the trifecta. Someone bring out the handcuffs, baby dolls. [Bear stumbles around blindly, and is unable to help as Andrew Macbeth slams the Grey Phoenix onto the floor before throwing him back into the ring. Duncan Macbeth re-enters the ring and catches Joe Scalercio in a belly-to-belly suplex, while Blazer and Ivey tumble out of the ring. Sgt. Garcia picks up the Grey Phoenix and applies a chickenwing, then suplexes him over.] TD: The felony! Garcia covers... One... two... No! Kickout! [Kuyler Greyson grabs a glass of soda from a ringside fan and goes over to Bear, using the soda to clear out his eyes. Blazer tries to whip Ivey into the steel guardrail, but Ivey reverses the whip. Brenda Hawkings approaches with the pepper spray out again, but Ivey grabs her wrist and twists it, knocking the pepper spray out of her hand. She rears back and slaps him; Ivey looks around, asking the audience if he should slap her back. Before he can get a response, a forearm shot by Blazer causes Ivey to release Hawkings.] TD: The Grey Phoenix is in trouble. Duncan Macbeth and Rey Garcia are whipping Joe Scalercio into the ropes... double backdrop! I don't think Dave D'Amato knows who the legal men are. SR: I don't think he cares. I know for sure that I don't. [Kuyler Greyson is still helping Bear see when Andrew Macbeth grabs the manager from behind and rears back a fist. Just before he nails Greyson, Bear grabs the arm, spins Macbeth around, and puts him in a belly-to-belly suplex onto the cement floor. Bear re-enters the ring and grabs Rey Garcia, powerslamming him into the mat. Duncan Macbeth charges, but Bear sidesteps him, waistlocks him, and uses a German Suplex on the former IC champion.] TD: Bear is clearing the ring of both Black Watch and Night Patrol! SR: Obviously, he got Ike Sampson's locker. [Bear picks Duncan Macbeth up in a bear hug, and Scalercio and Phoenix bounce off the ropes and deliver a double leg lariat onto Macbeth. Bear then spins around into a spinebuster, and covers: 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! Bear whips Macbeth into the ropes, and slams him into the mat before applying a front facelock. Meanwhile, Dave D'Amato is slowly calming things down, separating Ivey and Blazer on the outside, and ordering everyone else back to their corners. Macbeth gets to his feet, but a kneelift from Bear brings him back to the ground. Bear reaches up and tags in the Grey Phoenix. Bear doubles over Macbeth with a kick to the gut as the Grey Phoenix comes off the ropes, uses Bear's shoulders as a springboard, and delivers a DDT to Macbeth!] TD: He's covering! One! Two! And Andrew Macbeth pulls the Grey Phoenix off him! SR: And it's breaking down again. [Sure enough. Both Night Patrol and the American Dragons enter the ring again. Scalercio dragon sweeps Andrew Macbeth, and Bob Ivey drops a leg across his neck. Rey Garcia start exchanging chops with the Grey Phoenix. Bear charges at Jack Blazer, but the Night Patrolman shocks the crow by picking him up and turning it into a tombstone piledriver! Blazer starts to cover, but doesn't even get a one count before Bear kicks out and grabs Blazer, lifting him up in a suplex. Unfortunately, Bear is tripped by Duncan Macbeth, and topples over with Blazer landing on him: 1 -- 2 -- kickout! Meanwhile, Rey and Scalercio are trading fists over by the corner, until a rake of the eyes allow Rey to throw Scalercio over the ropes to the floor. Rey quickly scales the ropes and delivers an axe-handle to Scalercio, talking trash to him as Scalercio falls. Apparently, one of the comments hits, as Scalercio charges and tackles Garcia. Andrew Macbeth and the Grey Phoenix exchange shots, with a dropkick to the knees from the Grey Phoenix and a clothesline from Andrew to the Grey Phoenix. Blazer stands up, only to be met by a clothesline from Bob Ivey, throwing him over the top rope. Brenda Hawkings climbs up on the apron, holding a pair of...] SR: Handcuffs! I knew it! The trifecta is complete! [Unfortunately for the Soundbite, Kuyler Greyson takes his curved cane, grabs Hawkings' arm, and yanks her down to the floor, sending the handcuffs scattering towards the audience for a souvenir. Scalercio is working over Garcia with a shockingly blatant chokehold, until he is caught by a chairshot, courtesy of one Jack Blazer. The referee is occupied with Bear and Duncan Macbeth's battle in the corner, and doesn't see this infraction. Bob Ivey sees it, and starts to head outside when he is caught in a swinging neckbreaker from a charging Andrew Macbeth. The referee turns around to see the action and is caught by an inadvertent elbow from Duncan Macbeth.] TD: D'Amato's down! Macbeth accidentally hit the referee. SR: Time for a shakedown. [The first person to notice D'Amato on the mat was Brenda Hawkings. With a malicious grin, she immediately tosses both nightsticks to Jack Blazer, who first hits Ivey in the weakened ribs, then heads over and hits Scalercio in the head. He hands the other nightstick to Garcia, and together they begin to hit Scalercio over and over with the nightsticks. Duncan Macbeth and Bear are still caught in the corner, with Macbeth having the advantage after reversing a powerbomb attempt into a Claymore. The Grey Phoenix is thrown back into the ring by Andrew Macbeth, and both members of Black Watch and the Natural Predators start trading blows in the middle of the ring. In the process, Bear accidentally steps on Dave D'Amato, keeping him on the mat and allowing Night Patrol to keep working over Scalercio.] TD: This is horrible! Night Patrol keep hitting Joe Scalercio with those nightsticks. I think he's bleeding from his head! SR: To the Night Patrol, it's just a routine Saturday Night. [Kuyler is hollering at the Natural Predators, telling them about Scalercio and Ivey. Andrew Macbeth has the Grey Phoenix in a bearhug, but Bear throws Duncan over the top rope and climbs out of the ring. He grabs a chair and charges after the Night Patrol. They spot him and run towards the other side of the ring. Bear stops by the American Dragons, helping Bob Ivey get to his feet. As he goes to check on Scalercio, Bear is met with a Duncan Macbeth clothesline while Night Patrol start double-teaming Ivey again, though without nightsticks.] TD: Joe Scalercio has been assaulted with those nightsticks! He might need medical assistance. SR: Might? He was nailed with about a dozen blows from those nightsticks. Those thing ain't nerf. They're going to hurt like hell. [Jack Blazer throws Joe Scalercio into the ring. Rey Garcia makes an insulting cover with just one finger, as Dave D'Amato slowly recovers: 1 --- 2 --- kickout!] TD: Joe Scalercio still has some fight in him! SR: Not much, baby dolls. [Garcia grabs Scalercio and lifts him onto his shoulders. Blazer quickly scales the ropes. Andrew Macbeth throws the Grey Phoenix over the ropes after a face-rake, then scales the ropes himself. Bear charges at Duncan Macbeth, who ducks under and backdrops him. Duncan then also climbs the ropes. With a yell, Blazer leaps off and catches Scalercio in a powerslam.] TD: Police Brutality! [Andrew and Duncan leap off at about the same time. Andrew Macbeth lands a guillotine legdrop on Scalercio, while Duncan Macbeth nails Scalercio's side with a headbutt. Garcia makes the cover: 1 -- Bear rushes into the ring, but is met with a tackle from Andrew -- 2 -- Duncan catches the Grey Phoenix with a big boot. Bob Ivey gets to his feet, and tries to break the count, but is intercepted by Blazer... 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SR: Not bad. If I liked tag teams... which I don't... I'd like anyone led by Hawkings. TD: This was a travesty. Once Scalercio was taken out with those nightsticks, Black Watch and Night Patrol had a four-to-three advantage. Night Patrol made a mockery of the rules. SR: Nope. They just knew how to use them. [Since the brawl is still going on, Sparkplug makes his announcement from the safety of outside the ring.] SL: The winners of this contest... the NIGHT PATROL and the BLACK WATCH! [The crowd boos. The Black Watch, satisfied with the victory, roll out of the ring and start to head up. The Night Patrol look ready to attack the American Dragons again, but seeing two very angry Natural Predators in the ring, think better of it. Brenda Hawkings leads her wrestlers back to the locker room. Kulyer helps Ivey to his feet, and they go to look over Scalercio.] TD: I hope Joe Scalercio is all right. You can see a little blood on his forehead from one of those nightsticks. I'm sure the American Dragons are eager to get their hands on Night Patrol in the Texas Death match at Birthday Bash. There were just too many wrestlers in the ring, and not enough ref... SR: It's clown time! [Without warning, Harlequins Terror and Chaos run into the ring and begin attacking the tired Predators. Terror throws the Grey Phoenix outside the ring, while Chaos nails first Bear, then Greyson with a chair. Chaos leaves the ring, and helps Terror as they both press slam the Grey Phoenix and drop him with his throat across the guardrail. Chaos re-enters the ring, grabs the back of his neck, and slams him on his face. Terror grabs the microphone from Sparkplug Lee and enters the ring.] TERROR: How does it feel to get jumped from behind Yogi? How does it feel? [A massive chorus of boos fill the Coliseum.] TERROR: My cousin gave his solemn vow that there wouldn't be any tricks during his match last week. And despite Chaos' and my objections, we did as we were told, because Tragedy and Icehawk were friends. Well friends don't pull that bull[BLEEP] that happened last week! TD: Ladies and gentlemen, we apologise for... TERROR: Everyone saw Tragedy beat Mota and Icehawk by count-out last week, and by all rights, he should be the IIWF Cruiserweight Champion. But his "friend" thought differently and sent Yogi and Booboo here to do the dirty work. Well Ranger Terror, and his psychotic cousin Ranger Chaos have declared war on behalf of Tragedy. From now on 4-D stands for four dead men! [Terror throws down the mic and the Harlequins leave. Furious, the Predators pick themselves up, and head after the clowns, the American Dragons slowly following behind, Ivey helping his partner to his feet and supporting him as they make their way up the aisle. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, folks, we apparently saw Bear of the Natural Predators attack Tragedy last week -- and the Harlequins have retaliated here tonight. There's sure to be more shots fired in this war. Up next, we'll see the team who the Natural Predators will square off against in their final IIWF match, the Down Boys, as they face the IIWF World Tag Team Champions in non-title action. Let's get up to the ring. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| "IT'S FUN TO BE UNEMPLOYED" FAREWELL TOUR MATCH: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Team Sychosys vs. Down Boys ....................................................................... WRITER: Chris O'Brien [Sparkplug Lee gulps down the last of his Thirst-Terminator sized Mountain Dew before raising the mic to his lips] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the following tag team contest is set for one fall, and is a non-title affair! SR: Dammit! More freakin' tags...plus it's non-title! TD: Does that bother you...I mean more then usual? SR: Damn straight! Look, all I ask for in life is two things. One, for Team Sychosys to lose the belts. Petrow will dump Maurice, who'll go back to languishing in pre-lim hell, while Crazy Joe himself will be back in the singles ranks! TD: The second thing? SR: Chelsea, a bottle of Hershey's Syrup, and a cabin in Pymatuning, Pennsylvania. TD: Once again... words escape me. SR: Just doing what I'm paid to do. I did that once. TD: Oh? And how did it turn out for you? SR: Guess, Dross. TD: Best weekend of your life? SR: That's my buddy. SL: Introducing first, from Miami, Florida, and Malibu, California, respectively! Weighing in at a combined 457 pounds, accompanied to the ring by Awesome T..."Superstar" Adam Peterson and "Dazzling" Dan Oliver, THE DOWN BOYS! ["Down Boys" by Warrant kicks in as the popular duo make their way down the aisle for the second-to-last time in Portland, with Awesome T, wearing an "I KILLED TUPAC" shirt, leading the way. The hair looks better than usual tonight; by this, we mean it ain't budging, waving, moving, nothing. Peterson has 'CHERRY PIE' airbrushed on his tights, while Oliver comes down with 'BEDS ARE BURNING' on his. The duo slaps hands with a couple of the cheering throng before stepping in the ring] SL: And their opponents... [BIG Sycopath pop!] SL: ...from New England and hailing from Tokyo, Japan, respectively! Weighing in tonight at a combined 558 pounds... SR: Damn, one of them gained a pound! TD: You knew their previous weight? SR: Team Sychosys is the tag team champs in my nightmares too, Dross. SL: ...here are "Mr.Majestyk" Maurice McArthur and "Sychosys" Joe Petrow...the IIWF World Tag Team Champions... HERE IS TEAM SYCHOSYS! ["Rocket" by Def Leppard plays as the champs leap over the barrier.] TD: Oh, that is in poor taste. [Dross refers to Petrow, who has taken one arm out of the Olympic jacket he wears and has hidden it] SR: Hey! That's a tribute to the one-armed drummer of Def Lepers! TD: Leppard, Steve. SR: No, Lepers. After the last album, no one wants to go near them. [The white tag belts around their waists, Team Sychosys make their way to the ring, slapping hands with the fans... including a few who aren't happy to do so] TD: Well, they are the champs...but will they be after next Sunday, when they step in the ring with the Prophets of Rage? We'll only know at Birthday Bash! SR: Keep hawking the show, Dross. [McArthur and Petrow step into the ring as ref Chuck Sanders calls for the bell. Petrow puts his arm back in his jacket sleeve as McArthur steps onto the apron, and Dan Oliver warms up in his corner] TD: Is Petrow going to keep that Olympic Curling jacket on? SR: This is Joe Petrow. You have to ask? [Petrow and Oliver circle each other...both look for an opening...and they close rapidly for the lockup...] TD: What the... Petrow just tweaked Oliver's nose! [Indeed, Petrow with a honk on the nose, and this draws laughter from the crowd. Oliver looks stunned for a second, before shrugging and going to lock up again] TD: Both men, with a collar and elbow lockup... Oliver with a go-behind.... oh, sweet Jesus... [Oliver had gotten behind Petrow, before slapping him on the butt! This draws another laugh from the crowd, and Petrow turns around, a mock look of horror on his face. The ring mics pick up...] JP: My God! The "Soundbite" was right about you tag teamers! SR: Hey, I'm always right! Right? [The L'il Soundbiters roar in approval.] TD: How's it feel having your own personal cheering section? SR: It's like having a portable ego. Of course, when you're packing something that should have been seen in "Boogie Nights," baby dolls... [Crotch Cam! The crowd roars as Dross shakes his head.] TD: Is it going to be like this all night? SR: Yep. Want me to get you a beer? [In the ring, the match progresses, with Dan Oliver locking a standing armbar on Joe Petrow. Sanders asks Petrow if he wants to give. Being early in the match, no one expects him to consider it. Lest we forget, though, we are talking about the original Sychopath...] JP: NO! NO! I WON'T GIVE! I REFUSE TO GIVE UP! IF I GIVE UP, I CAN'T WRESTLE ANY MORE! CHRIS QUIGLEY NEVERS GIVES UP! NEVER! SR: Yeah! Don't give in, Joe, don't give in! [Oliver shakes his head as he lets go of the hold. Petrow turns to him...] JP: You know, I was THIS close to quitting. TD: Good grief. [Oliver steps back and tags in Adam Peterson, who gets a warm POP! Petrow smiles, and he goes to tag in Maurice McArthur who awaits the tag...but Petrow then turns around and nails Adam Peterson, knocking him to the mat!] TD: Joe Petrow...he throws Chuck Sanders on top of Adam Peterson! SR: Come on, Chuck, hook the leg! [Petrow counts! One... two... Peterson kicks out! Petrow shows two as Sanders gets back up, while McArthur complains about Petrow's bad officiating in the corner.] TD: Team Sychosys not taking this match seriously. SR: Would you? It's non-title, and against the Down Syndrome! I ask again, would you? TD: Adam Peterson not happy...and he gets up...OH MY! SR: I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! [Petrow turns around... where Adam Peterson kisses him! Peterson grabs Petrow by the side of his head and planted a smack right on his lips! BIG laughter from the crowd, and a few cheers, as Petrow staggers back, wiping his lips off as Peterson soaks in the applause] TD: Well, the Down Boys just outdid Team Sychosys on the lunacy scale... SR: FAGS! FLAMERS! TOSSERS! TD: Steve... OH MY! [Petrow turns back to Adam Peterson... a look of rage on his scarred visage... before throwing himself at the Down Boy! He tackles Peterson to the ground, where he begins clawing at his face!] TD: Petrow's flipped! I mean more so then usual! SR: It's a combination of the kiss and the bacteria in that 100 gallon yoghurt jar. TD: Petrow's stopped clawing, thank God... NOW HE'S BITING PETERSON'S LEG! He's treating it like a sirloin steak! [Peterson screams as Chuck Sanders tries to break the hold. Finally, Joe lets go, and he drags Peterson to his corner...where he tags in Maurice McArthur! BIG Sychopath pop as Maurice comes in, driving an elbow into the thigh of Peterson!] TD: McArthur with another elbow...but Peterson moves! SR: No surprise. [Peterson stands up...albeit wobbly...and makes his way across the ring to tag in Dan Oliver! McArthur now goes to meet Oliver, but Oliver ducks under a McArthur clothesline, and swings up behind him, landing a crucifix! Sanders counts: 1 -- 2...] TD: McArthur kicks out, but not before Joe Petrow with a save! SR: He's not taking any risks on Maurice blowing this for him. [Petrow back to his corner, screaming for a tag, but Oliver sends McArthur to the ropes, and nails him with a high-impact dropkick! McArthur falls to the mat as now Oliver makes his way out to the ring apron. McArthur get to his feet...] TD: A Springboard hurricanrana! And Oliver cradles it! One...but once again, Petrow with a quick save. [Oliver to the corner, where he tags in Adam Peterson. Peterson climbs to the top rope as Oliver sets up in the corner. Maurice turns around...at the worst possible time, as Oliver nails a superkick at the exact same time Peterson comes off the top with a missile dropkick!] TD: Beautiful double-team move by the Down Boys! SR: Yeah, teamwork that can only come after months... and months... hell, years...of close proximity...very close...ah, hell, they're gay guys, Dross! [McArthur is stunned as Petrow looks on, shouting encouragement. Peterson with a kick right to the back of the head of McArthur, before backing into a corner...and coming out with a jumping neck snap! Problem is, McArthur slumped over before Peterson came out. Peterson, therefore, flipped himself over and crashes into the mat] TD: McArthur... well, he saved himself... by accident! [McArthur rolls over...to his corner, and tags in Joe Petrow! The fresh tag, Petrow runs in and clotheslines Peterson! Peterson makes his way back to his feet, but not before Petrow grabs him...] SR: ASSPUMP! And another! And another! TD: Rolling Asspumps! Did I just say that on national TV? SR: Sure did, Dross. TD: Sorry, mama. [Peterson holds his butt as Petrow now switches over and locks in a standing leg grapevine. After 10 seconds, this draws some boos from the Sychopaths and a chant of "BORING! BORING!" from the Disciples. Petrow releases the hold, saying "No restholds for me, I'm Joe Petrow!" harkening back to the days of old, brining a nostalgic POP from crowd] SR: Ah, memories. [Petrow once agains tags in McArthur...and he picks up his tag team partner, bodyslamming him into the leg of Adam Peterson! Peterson holds his leg as now Maurice slimply punches the thigh] SR: Simple, yet effective. [McArthur goes to tag back in Joe, but Petrow motions for him to stay in! A cheer as McArthur lands an elbowdrop on the back of Peterson's knee!] SR: Let me guess, Dross... Team Sychosys is going to work over the legs of the Down Children. TD: Looks that way. [Peterson slowly drags himself over to the corner...but McArthur grabs his leg to drag him back...] TD: Peterson kicks Maurice McArthur right in the nose! He nailed him a good one! [McArthur holds his nose as Peterson makes it to the corner! In comes Dan Oliver, who charges...McArthur goes for a armdrag, but Oliver blocks easily, and takes McArthur over instead!] TD: Dan Oliver now...facelock...up the turnbuckles and down into a Tornado DDT! SR: McArthur looks lost! [Indeed, McArthur is dumbfounded as Oliver sends him to the ropes, catching him off them and planting him with a powerslam!] TD: And a tag back to Adam Peterson...OUCH! SR: Hey! Someone hit my buddy with a carp! [Fish flies towards the ring as now the Down Boys with a double back drop on McArthur. Petrow looks disgusted as the Down Boys back up, Maurice MacArthur being covered in fish in the middle of the ring] TD: Disgusting. Simply disgusting. [Petrow jumps down and makes his way backstage, as the Down Boys make their way through a hail of fish to cover McArthur. Sanders counts as Oliver covers, 1 -- 2 -- kickout by McArthur! Sanders shows two...before a crappy nails him right between the eyes. Throwing the fish down, Sanders makes his way to Sparkplug Lee, and converses with him.] TD: Fans, Sanders is considering stopping this match-up... SR: No, he's not! Here comes Petrow again! TD: And he's got a broom! [Petrow with a huge push broom, and he leaps in the ring. Maurice McArthur is visible now as he rolls out of the pile of fish. Petrow begins sweeping the ring! The crowd dies down as Petrow, along with McArthur, begin 'Whistle While You Work,' which is soon joined in by the Sychopaths sitting at ringside] TD: Petrow is cleaning out the ring... SR: HEY! He's pushing all the fish over here! [Indeed, a big pile of fish is forming at the base of the announcers' desk. Petrow manages to clear the ring, as the Disciples have stopped throwing, saving whatever marine life they have left until later] TD: Petrow signaling for the match to restart! SR: The Man Who Saved Portland from the Fish Who Saved Pittsburgh. Hell, it'd be better then "Deep Impact." TD: You saw it? SR: Yep. TD: And? SR: I'd wait for "Armageddon" to come out later this summer. [Peterson tags in Oliver, and the two grabs an unsuspecting Maurice McArthur from behind...] TD: Double Asspump from the Down Boys! SR: SEE! SEE! I TOLD YOU! I WARNED YOU ALL! Gay guys, one and all! [Oliver now with a leglock of his own! McArthur screams as Oliver rolls around, holding that extended leg!] TD: Petrow's in, and he makes the save! SR: He's been doing that a lot this week! If the Down Boys are giving him that much trouble, what's going to happen when they meet the Prophets of Rage? TD: Hawk that show, Steve. SR: Shut up. [Oliver tags in Adam Peterson...and now Peterson climbs up top as Oliver sends McArthur for the ride...Oliver with a backbody drop...] TD: OH MY! McArthur was in mid air as Peterson came off the top with a plancha! He DRIVES Maurice into the mat! [Peterson has a cover, and Sanders counts! 1 -- 2...] SR: And Petrow with ANOTHER save! [Peterson now locks in an STF! He has McArthur in the middle of the ring, and the STF is hooked tight. Sanders positions himself between Petrow and the two men, ensuring Joe Petrow can't save his partner! Petrow shouts encouragement, but McArthur's face says it all] SR: He's going to give, Dross! 4M's going to pull a Quigley! TD: McArthur's fading! He's fading! [McArthur tries to keep a hand up, but Peterson grinds the hold in. Petrow stands on the ropes as McArthur falls...falls... ...sometimes, the weirdest things happen, you know?] TD: What the...you've GOT to be kidding me. SR: HA! That's great! [Peterson looks...and says "What the hell?" Oliver looks...and says "Huh?" Awesome T looks...and says "No way!" Petrow looks...and smiles.] SR: IT'S BRODY THUNDER! TD: No it's not! SR: Well, it's the same thing! It's a star! TD: It's a duck. SR: No, it's THE duck! [Indeed, attracted by the smell of the fish, the Duck Savior has made his way to the ring. It waddled down the aisle. It has jumped in the ring... ...and it's staring right at Maurice McArthur. McArthur opens one eye...and spies the duck. And for some reasons we don't know, the waterfowl's presence does something to McArthur...something we'll never know...for as he shakes and begins to get out of the STF... ...the Duck Savior HONKS loudly and bites Peterson right in the nose.] TD: That duck just bit Adam Peterson! SR: Oh, man, that's the FUNNIEST! TD: Uh, is that a disqualification? [Peterson releases the hold as the Duck Savior makes his way across the ring to the pile of fish in front of the announcer's table. As he begins to dine on the fish, McArthur scrambles over and tags in Petrow!] SR: The Duck saved Maurice, and here comes Petrow! TD: Petrow grabs Peterson...Bullet Train To Hell! And in comes Oliver.... he gets one too! Petrow's a madman in the ring! SR: He's going nuts...and another Bullet Train for Dan Oliver as well! Hey! The Duck's on my monitor! [Petrow grabs Adam Peterson and puts him in the middle of the ring, before tagging back in McArthur! McArthur is still woozy, but Petrow whips him to the ropes...] TD: MAJESTYK STAR PRESS! Petrow Belly-to-Belly suplexes McArthur onto Peterson, and McArthur covers! We have one! We have two! Three! It's over! SR: That was WEIRD, baby dolls... SL: Ladies and gentlemen, your winners...TEAM SYCHOSYS! [Petrow helps McArthur up as the Down Boys roll out of the ring. Sparkplug lee hands Team Sychosys the belts... and the Duck. Petrow holds up the duck as McArthur puts his belt around his shoulder, a wide smile on his face.] TD: What a weird win for the champ! [The Down Boys make their way back up the aisle, a loud cheer from the gathered crowd] TD: They'll make that trip one last time next Saturday... SR: Screw that, Dross, we've got the Duck! [Petrow holds the Duck Savior aloft as the Sychopaths bow to the Duck...] TD: Uh-oh, here come the Prophets! [The Prophets of Rage swagger out from the back as Public Enemy's "Prophets of Rage" pumps over the PA system. The Disciples are hyped now, yelling and waving fish. The Prophets stroll down to ringside, urging the crowd to shout louder and hurl more fish as Joe Petrow looks on, clearly not used to being upstaged. Petrow and McArthur stand in the ring, looking down at the Prophets, the tag team title belts thrown haphazardly over their shoulders. A barrage of fish is being thrown towards them by the Disciples of Rage, while the Sychopaths retailiate with worms and fish sticks being thrown at the Disciples. Within the hailstorm, Petrow grabs the mic and speaks, while Mr. Majestyk struts around making the "4M" sign, daring the Disciples to "fish" him:] JP: You know, guys, this has been going on for way too long now. Toronto, Mexico, the Congo, we been doing this all over the freaking world. And next week, we're gonna end this once and for all back home in Portland. But now... [Petrow pauses as he's hit square in the face with a red snapper. McArthur picks up the fish on the rebound and hands it to Joe, who casually tosses it over towards Tim Dross.] JP: ...now, it's not just about us anymore. You had to bring your people into this. So of course, by necessity, we gotta bring _our_ people into this as well! I seem to remember a situation like this last year at Birthday Bash. If these people [waves his hand in the direction of both the Disciples and Sychopaths] want to be a part of this, then I say let 'em! I mean, after all, what's Birthday Bash without a Birthday Bash Match, right? [Joe tosses the mic down into the aisle towards the Prophets to a huge pop from both Sychopaths _and_ Disciples, as TS continues to strut in the ring. Derek Rage picks up the microphone from the floor, and commands the attention of the crowd:] DR: Well, Joe, that was a very pretty speech. And an oh so unique idea. Geez, Joe, first you recycle the seven tables of fear match and start off another tour. Now you want to repeat your audience participation match with Steve Kowalski? Petrow, you just don't get what this match is all about, do you? Tell 'em, Dirt Dog? DDUA: Yo, where all my live muhfuhs at! [The crowd explodes behind Dirt Dog.] YEAHHH!!! That's where I thought y'all was at! You know why? Cuz I got eyes in my f'n head! Yo, Joe, the Prophets of Rage went on strike because we got yanked away from our purpose! That's bein' the nastiest WRESTLIN' team on the planet! And that ain't what a freakin' audience participation match is all about. You think we wanna beat you after you get bashed with a tricycle? You think we wanna see some punk kid who took a dropkick and got tossed over a bridge get back in the ring again? Yo, muhfuh, you ain't in control no more. This is our show, right? Cuz, we been left behind too freakin' long. We been out of the spotlight and pushed about used like cattle. We are the freakin' PROPHETS OF RAGE!!! [The Disciples burst into mad cheers and applause.] DR: So, nobody else is running things for us again. You want a little gimmick match? Petrow, why don't you just wrestle? Why don't you just use one iota of the talent you're supposed to have? You are the _funniest_ wrestler in the IIWF, right? Well, you done did your bit. You've shot your wad. DDUA: And it's drippin' outta Maurice as we speak! DR: We came to take back the tag-team titles for the tag-team _division._ We are a team, not some running storyline typed out in the deranged imagination of a man who watches too much Japanese garbage wrestling and Monday night television. You hear me? DDUA: But we know Joe Petrow cain't wrestle no straight match. And his pretty little boy, Spread'em and bury it, wanna see some kind of gimmick when we came to prove that we are the best _wrestling_ unit in the world. So, you wanna get all your little Sychopaths involved and you wanna get all our Disciples involved? Fine, we got a little counter challenge for you! Forget that audience participation ish, muhfuh. You bring ten of your legit Sychopaths -- no wrasslas in disguise -- to the ring and we'll bring our Disciples and then we'll have a good ol' fashioned lumberjack match, muhfuh! Yeah, why don't you try working somebody else's gimmick if you're so f'n good, muhfuh. Let's see how bad you want it. Break out your Mooselips, get your Mauriceweisers, dance your little Sexy Boy dance and all that, but your great to be unemployed tour is gonna end with you losin' those belts to a real team. Let's put it that way. Lumberjack match or you get corralled into your own worst nightmare: a straight match. [A bus rolls into the arena. It's old, beaten up, coloured like Scooby Doo's Mystery Machine. The bus driver gets off, yawning and stretching and scratching himself irritably.] BD: Yo, you order a bus or sumthin'? DR: We'll be right there. DDUA: See, Joey-boy, we're gonna outdumb you. Disciples, we outta here! [Some Disciples pour over the stands and clambour into the bus. The Prophets climb in behind them, Dirt Dog yelling "Get me to some damn malls! We got people to meet and force on camera sayin' they came to see us!] DISCIPLES: YEAHHHH, MUHFUHHHHSSSSSS!!!!! [Fish rain down on Team Sychosys as the bus backfires and with a screech of metal on metal it backs out of the arena. The last image is of Dirt Dog pressed against the window... MOONING THE CROWD!] SR: Damn! [Petrow and McArthur look at each other...and shrug. They leave the ring, and climb back into the Sychopath section, talking amongst themselves] TD: A lumberjack match! SR: With two sets of some of the craziest fans EVER to be in this arena! Man, I am buying the PPV when I get home! Screw that, I'm calling right now! TD: But will Team Sychosys accept? SR: What? It's not a done deal? Ah, forget it, then. TD: Folks, we'll be right back after this short break with another sixty minutes of IIWF action, including two tournament semi-finals, and that huge eight-man tag team match. But when we come back... the Baddest Thangs Running square off against Steve Sampson and Robert Donovan. Don't move a muscle, folks! [Cut to a wide-angle shot of the ringside area as a technical crew begins clearing away all the fish. 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+