________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| | || | \ v v / | __| |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| _____ ___ _____ _______ ___ ___ _____ __ ____ \ __ \ \ / \ __ \ | | \ / \ / \ __ \ /\ \ \ \ / | | \ \| | | | \ \|/| |\| | | | | | | \ \ / \ \ \ / / | |_/ /| | | |_/ / | | | |__| | | | | | / /\ \ \ v / | __ < | | | __/ | | | ____ | | | | |/ /__\ \ \ / | | \ \| | | \ | | | | | | | | | | _____/ \/ / | | | || | | \ \ | | | | | | | | | |/ \/ / | | | || | | |\ \ | | | | | | | | | | / /\ | |_/ /| | | | \ \ | | | | | | | |_/ / / /\ \ /____/ /_\ /_\ /__\ /_\ /_\ /_\ /____/ /_/ /__\ _____ _____ ___ ___ \ __ \ /\ / ___ \ \ / \ / | | \ \ / \ / / \_\| | | | | |_/ / / /\ \ \ \_____ | |__| | | __ < / /__\ \ \_____ \| ____ | | | \ \ _____/ \ \ \ | | | | | | |/__ \ \ / / | | | | | | | \ \____\ \___/ /| | | | | |_/ / \______\ \___/ | | | | /____/ /__\ /_\ /_\ H + O + U + R T + W + O [The graphics fade through to a montage of interior shots of the IIWF Coliseum as a volley of fireworks rockets up from the ring, erupting amidst the rigging in the rafters. Spotlights above the ring swing down over the shining walls of steel bars that surround the squared circle, a technical crew working on one side of the cage to replace the panels damaged by the Machines' BMW earlier in the evening. The shot pans down past row upon row of excited fans, finally coming to rest on the broadcast table at ringside, at which are seated Tim Dross and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts.] TD: Welcome back to our second hour of action, folks! Four more incredible matches to come your way in this hour, kicking off in just a moment with our second steel cage match of the evening, as Deathbringer goes up against the plucky newcomer, "Vagabond" Chris Staley. SR: Alas, poor Staley. We hardly knew ye. TD: Don't write off the youngster just yet, Steve Roberts. He's shown some real guts in his short time in the IIWF so far, and he could well hold his own in there against the Dark Destroyer. Other big matches this hour include the "Spin the Wheel, Make the Deal" match pitting the Black Watch against the Baddest Thangs Running, plus the no rules match between Tiger Claw and "Enigma" Takezo Musashi -- and capping it all off will be the final of the "King of the Cruisers" tournament, as the "Iconoclast" Sean Watts does battle with Big Greggy Cool in a match for all the marbles. Right now, however, let's get straight back up to the ring for the introductions in this steel cage encounter. _____ _____ \ __ \ / __ / | | \ \ / / | | | |_/ /----------------------------------------------------------\ \_| | | __ < STEEL CAGE MATCH: > __ | | | \ \ Deathbringer vs. "Vagabond" Chris Staley / / | | | |_/ /----------------------------------------------------------\ \_| | /____/ WRITER: Mike Cunningham \____\ [Cut to Sparkplug Lee standing inside the now three-walled cage, as ring technicians prepare to replace the side nearest the aisle, following the previous match. Failing to notice the door, Sparky, ever the claustrophobia-sufferer, panics, and hurriedly escapes the ring before the fourth wall of steel can be put in place.] SR: I hope for his sake, Dross, that his house doesn't have any complicated appliances... such as _walls_. [Now standing outside the ring, beside the announcers' desk, Sparkplug prepares to make the introductions.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a steel cage match. It will be fought under special "No Escape" rules. A winner can only be decided by pinfall or submission. [Loud pop] SR: Just the way I likes it, baby dolls. You wanna win, you gotta pin. TD: Or make your opponent submit. SR: Yeah, but that doesn't rhyme. [Corrosion of Conformity's "Man or Ash" kicks in over the loudspeakers to a mixed crowd response.] SL: Introducing first, from Wildwood, New Jersey... weighing in at 260lbs, "Vagabond" Chris Staley! [As the crowd reaction gradually changes from mixed to what can only be described as largely negative, Chris Staley steps into the arena to make his first IIWF PPV appearance. Sporting his newly dyed black hair, Staley is not unlike Dave Navarro in appearance. With the majority of the crowd favouring his opponent, the relatively hostile reception is far from unexpected, but nonetheless, is almost completely ignored by an extremely focussed Staley. Dressed in black trunks, black boots and a black jacket, bearing the legend "My Body Lie But I Still Roam", the IIWF newcomer appears at home in his first Coliseum PPV as he steps into the cage and awaits the introduction of the Dark Destroyer.] SL: And his opponent, hailing from The Dark Side, weighing in at 324lbs, accompanied by The Blind Guardian, the Dark Destroyer... Deathbringer! [A huge pop erupts as the fans turn to the entrance, expecting to hear "Scythe, Rage and Rose" by Dark Tranquillity and to see the mighty figure of the former World Champion. However, nothing happens. The music doesn't play, Deathbringer doesn't appear, causing the audience to quieten significantly. Within seconds, however, the arena becomes shrouded in darkness, as the lights go out, leading to an expectant pop from the capacity crowd, which is quickly followed by the jumbotron suddenly becoming active, with the appearance of the one, the only, Deathbringer. The jumbotron depicts Deathbringer's own graveyard. The Dark Destroyer is standing beside a fresh dug grave and he's still holding a shovel in his right hand. Deathbringer looks up, as the camera moves closer and he right away begins to speak in his low, growling voice] DB: Greetings, mortals... You are about to witness what one could call a lethal display of power... You are about to witness the end of Chris Staley... [Deathbringer plants the shovel into the ground and walks around the grave. There in the dirt lies a tombstone, which the Reaper now easily lifts into the air. The name "Chris Staley" is written on it. After presenting the stone monument to the camera, the Dark Destroyer plants it into the ground with authority. He looks down to the tombstone as he speaks on] DB: Yes, Staley... this is where your future lies... [Deathbringer now looks back towards the camera] DB: But what else did you expect? If one messes with Death himself, he has to be willing to pay the ultimate price... his own soul... And that is exactly what I am going to collect right now, Staley... Your soul... Your innermost secret... I will be holding it in my hands [Deathbringer raises his hands]... and then I will decide what to do with it... [Deathbringer begins to laugh in his evil way, but he is interrupted, as a distant bell tolls. The Dark Destroyer looks over to point somewhere behind the camera] DB: Yes... the time has come... Be prepared, Staley... Your worst nightmare is about to arrive... [Fade as Deathbringer again begins to laugh.] TD: I think it's blatantly clear, folks, that Chris Staley is in for the toughest match in his young career. SR: Why does he have to turn every light in the building off though, Dross? I mean, doesn't he realise that Tim Turner could be _anywhere_... even near _me_. TD: That's enough, Steve. [As the lights slowly come back on, Chris Staley is seen facing towards the entrance, gesturing for Deathbringer to finally make his way to the ring. What he doesn't realise, however, and what the massive pop suggests, is that Deathbringer stands in the cage behind his opponent, his piercing red eyes staring intently at the newcomer.] TD: Deathbringer's in the cage! Chris Staley has absolutely no idea that one of the most dangerous men in the sport is within striking distance! SR: Ah, I dunno, Dross... Staley would have a _lot_ more to worry about if Turner was standing in 'Bringer's place. [Turning to see what has caused the crowd response, Staley is met with a hand to the throat by Deathbringer, who sets up to deliver a chokeslam. To the surprise of everyone in attendance, however, he stops, and instead of executing the chokeslam, simply slaps Staley in the face. This only serves to enrage Staley, who appears frustrated by his opponent's apparent complete disregard for him. As Deathbringer walks away from Staley, the youngster prepares to charge his much larger foe. Suddenly, however, the lights in the IIWF Coliseum go out once again for a few seconds, before returning. On their return, Deathbringer is standing on the opposite side of the ring with Staley becoming increasingly frustrated with the continuing mind games. And now conspicuous at ringside are Deathbringer's manager and allies, the Blind Guardian and the two mini-Bringers.] TD: This doesn't look good for Chris Staley, Steve. When the Dark Destroyer wants to play mind games, he's in a league of his own. Staley must be wishing that the escape rule was in use here. SR: I was in a league of my own once, Dross... TD: Steve, with the noise this capacity crowd is making, I didn't quite catch that. What did you say? SR: Ah, forget it. You've ruined my bit. [As a chant of "Shoot, Soundbite, Shoot" breaks out, Staley finally gets the opportunity to lock up with his much larger adversary. Motioning for a collar-and-elbow tie-up, Staley backs out, and instead connects with a knee to the stomach of the Dark Destroyer. Grabbing the right arm of Deathbringer, he attempts an Irish Whip, which is almost effortlessly reversed. Rebounding from the ropes, the newcomer ducks under a clothesline attempt, stops, and attempts another kick to the stomach. This time, however, the boot is caught by the hand of the former champion, much to the delight of the crowd. Ever the opportunist, however, Staley responds with an Enzuigiri, which sends the 'Bringer crashing to the mat.] TD: Finally, Chris Staley has gained control of this match. But in his debut IIWF pay-per-view, he may well be overmatched. SR: You're absolutely right... he _does_ suck. TD: That's not what I'm saying, Steve. All I'm saying is that he may be trying a little _too_ hard to be noticed. He's an enthusiastic young athlete, but while commendable, that enthusiasm could very well do his long-term career more harm than good. SR: So, we're in agreement then... Chris Staley sucks. Thanks, baby dolls. Just wanted to get that cleared up. [As Deathbringer slowly, but purposefully, pushes himself up from the canvas, he is met with an elbow drop to the back by Staley, sending him down again. Again, 'Bringer pushes himself up, but is again met with an elbow drop. Finally believing he has done enough to keep Deathbringer down for more than a couple of seconds, Staley hooks his opponent's left leg and places a one-leg Boston Crab on him. With the crowd having been quietened by a significant degree, referee Chuck Sanders asks 'Bringer if he wished to quit, perhaps more out of duty than expectation. But instead of replying, the Dark Destroyer simply powers out of the hold sending Staley into the side of the cage for the first time in the match to a loud crowd pop. Standing up, Deathbringer walks towards his opponent, his red eyes never once wavering from the target. Attempting to scoop Staley up, his younger foe instead slips out of 'Bringer's huge arms, and with devastating speed, rams his head into the steel.] TD: Chris Staley now displaying that fighting spirit we've come to expect from him. It doesn't matter who he's faced with, this great young IIWF superstar simply will _not_ back down. SR: That's the least you expect from anyone in the Double Eye, Dross. You know what I always say... TD: "If there's grass on the field, play ball"? Steve, I really don't see what relevance that has in _this_ situation. SR: No, not that one. I meant the "No love, no learnin'" schtick. TD: "Schtick"? Is that actually word, or is that just how the Irish pronounce the word "stick"? SR: Dross, you trying to be funny is like Icehawk trying to be heterosexual. It's unnatural, I tells ya... _unnatural_. [Now becoming increasingly confident, Staley decides to be a little more ambitious, and hooks the slightly dazed Deathbringer's arms, and sets him in position for a Tiger Bomb. However, as he tries to lift his 324lbs opponent, Staley finds that he is simply too heavy. But alas, refusing to admit defeat, the young superstar tries again, but to no avail. Now, unsure how to react to this disappointment, Staley hesitates fatally... His legs are grabbed by Deathbringer, who quickly takes him off his feet, before executing a slingshot into the cage wall.] SR: How about that, Dross? It's the Double Eye introduction for the uninitiated. TD: Steve, I think Staley may have been cut open a little by that collision with the cage. SR: A little? Big deal... it'll take 25 full pints of blood before he's a _real_ IIWF superstar. TD: Why do you have to do that, Steve? You know, treat IIWF newcomers like complete outsiders, who'll never make the grade... SR: Well... I guess it's because of my tormented childhood... [sob]... you know... life as a kid wasn't easy... Mom did her best, but... I guess I'm just deeply insecure... Won't you help me, Dross? Help me to be a good person. TD: Stop it, Steve Roberts. I'm sorry I asked. [Paying no attention to the cheering crowd, the Dark Destroyer slowly stalks the prone body of Chris Staley. Assisting his opponent to stand up, 'Bringer displays a more technical side to his game than previously shown as he twists Staley's arm into an armbar. Then to the delight of his many supporters, Irish whips Staley to the other side of the ring. However the force of the move causes Staley to crash into the side of the cage as well as the ring ropes, knocking him to the mat immediately. Seeing his opponent is now in trouble, Deathbringer makes the first pinfall attempt of the match, but Staley kicks out as Chuck Sanders' hand hits the canvas for a second time.] TD: Staley's gotta do something to counter this onslaught by the big guy, and fast. Once the Dark Destroyer gains the upper hand, he's nigh on impossible to stop. He's methodical... but he's lethal. SR: Who do you think you're kidding, Dross? The only thing that's "lethal" about the masked moron is his breath. TD: Yes, Steve. SR: If we held a "King of the Washed-up Guys Who Just Happened To Be Here When We Moved In", instead of acknowledging that the cruisers actually exist, we'd really be doing something worthwhile. I'd bet dollars to doughnuts that ol' 'Bringer would win in a canter... or maybe Shakespeare. Say, whatever happened to Shakespeare, Dross? TD: I'm not sure... I guess he's with all the other ex-IIWF wrestlers in the big wrestling ring in the sky. SR: Also known as the EMWC. [Seeming almost pleased that the pinfall attempt was unsuccessful, Deathbringer picks Staley up off the mat to inflict more punishment. Displaying his immense strength, Deathbringer lifts his younger opponent into position for a Gorilla Press, to a monstrous pop. But instead of dropping him to the floor, 'Bringer lowers him to shoulder-height and simply charges into the steel -- Staley's head first. Huge Deathbringer pop! The former World Champion allows Staley to fall lifelessly to the canvas, as the camera reveals that the youngster is now bleeding from the top of his head as well. Clearly enjoying his dominance -- well, as much as Deathbringer seems to enjoy anything -- 'Bringer lifts Staley into position to perform another head-charge into the cage. This time, however, Staley rakes the eyes of the Dark Destroyer, causing him to be released from the big guy's grasp. Although still very much dazed and disorientated, Staley has enough wits about him to move as far away from his foe as possible. Thus, he walks to the corner and begins to scale the cage.] SR: What in the name of the Black Jesus is Staley doing now, Dross? If he escapes, he loses. TD: I don't know, Steve. Maybe he's trying to buy some time. The longer this match progresses, the more the match turns towards the younger, lighter Chris Staley. [Deathbringer walks towards Staley, who is almost at the top of the cage by now. However, instead of simply grabbing Staley's leg, Deathbringer begins to climb the cage himself. Seeing this, Staley lands a boot to the face of his opponent, which has little or no effect. With the crowd cheering wildly, Staley hauls himself over the top of the cage, and slowly begins his descent... until Deathbringer, on the other side of the cage wall, grabs his neck with both hands to a tumultuous pop! This pop, however, is quickly transformed into a loud heel pop, as Staley catches Deathbringer with a low blow through the steel bars, forcing the dark one to release his hands from Staley's neck. Realising the disposition of his momentarily vulnerable opponent, Staley climbs back to the top of the cage, where he is face to face with his foe. With blood still trickling from his forehead, Staley delivers a headbutt, which knocks Deathbringer clean off the cage and crashing to the mat. The sight of this huge man falling several feet to the ground and almost halfway across the ring quitens the audience significantly as a concern for the Dark Destoryer's well-being arises. Staley, on the other hand, laughs maniacally at the sight of his fallen opponent, and more worryingly, at the sight of blood flowing quite rapidly from his forehead.] SR: Jesus Christ, I think he just killed Deathbringer, Dross. What a tragedy _that_ would be. TD: Deathbringer didn't look at home climbing the cage, Steve. He's not as agile as Staley, and I think Staley knew it. He was able to grab a breather, _and_ inflict serious damage on Deathbringer. SR: I grabbed a breather once, Dross... TD: Really, Steve? You know, I'd be most keen to learn how that turned out for you... SR: Best weekend of my life. TD: Now, there's a shock. [As Deathbringer's body remains motionless in the middle of the ring, Chris Staley doesn't return to the ring to avail of his advantage. Instead, he hauls himself onto the top of the cage, and with the agility of a cruiserweight, manages to balance himself on top of the fifteen foot high steel cage. With cameras flashing wildly in seemingly every single seat in the building, Staley leaps through the air, to a gargantuan pop, executing a picture-perfect frog-splash. With the capacity crowd standing in expectation, the referee registers the count.] TD: One... Two... Thr... no, he kicked out! Somehow, Deathbringer kicked out. He's still got it, Steve -- How can you that this mighty champion is washed-up? SR: Dross, I can say anything, and the morons will still chant "Shoot, Soundbite, Shoot". It's a gift I have of always being right. [Staley stares at Chuck Sanders in disbelief that he hasn't already won the match. In desperation, he makes a cover again, perhaps to check if Deathbringer really did kick out. However, another two-count confirms his worst fears. Moving to a different game-plan to put Deathbringer away, Staley drags him by the feet to the ropes. Placing the right leg of the still practically motionless 'Bringer on the bottom rope, Staley leaps up with the aid of the top and comes crashing down with all his weight on the vulnerable leg. With blood dripping from the top of his head and his forehead, Staley appears in his element.] TD: Chris Staley now going to work on the leg of the Dark Destroyer. Staley has gotta be in a world of pain right now... he seems to have lost a significant amount of blood from his two wounds, but he doesn't care. The youngster just doesn't _care_. SR: Not this again, Dross. Soon, he'll be doing a four-part interview about his tough childhood, and how he feels at home inside steel cages and the like, before resurrecting two characters from his earlier wrestling days. You see if I'm wrong, Dross, you see if I'm wrong. [Content that he has injured the leg of the former World Champion sufficiently, Staley drags him into the middle of the ring, where he locks on a figure-4, putting further pressure on the damaged leg. With Deathbringer still showing few signs of movement, the referee notes that his shoulders are down, and promptly registers a count, which is stopped by 'Bringer leaning forward, using leverage from the hold he finds himself in. He tries to punch the face of Staley, who is agonisingly inches too far away.] TD: I don't believe what we're seeing, Steve. We may be about to see Deathbringer give up. He's gotta be in excruciating pain in there. SR: Oh no, don't give up, that would be terrible. After all, if the masked moron submitted, he'd quit just like Kauffman and Quitley. I don't think I could handle both Quitley _and_ Deathbringer leaving the IIWF in the same year... I just couldn't bear it. TD: You're a horrible, horrible man, Steve Roberts. [As Chuck Sanders almost incessantly asks Deathbringer if he wants to submit, the veteran shakes his head. And with the obvious backing of the capacity crowd, he attempts to turn the figure-4 over. With the many, many fans of 'Bringer popping wildly, he appears to be on the verge of turning the hold over, when Chris Staley uses his strength to power his opponent back to the mat, placing one final, immense bolt of pain to Deathbringer's leg. Seemingly content that he has done a huge amount of damage to his foe's leg, and aware that a submission will not be forthcoming, Staley releases the hold. Like a stalker watching his prey, Staley waits for Deathbringer to get to his feet, before viciously sweeping 'Bringer's standing leg from under him, causing a loud heel pop to emanate from the IIWF Coliseum. Seeing his nemesis is struggling greatly, Staley speedily climbs to the top turnbuckle, from where he delivers a supremely-executed leg-drop to the face of Deathbringer -- the moment of contact causing a sickening thud, which almost immediately silences the pro-Deathbringer audience.] TD: Good Lord! 260lbs just came crashing down across the face of the Dark Destroyer. All Chris Staley has to do is cover him. It's over... It's over! SR: Well, if it's over, why has Staley got that mad look in his eye? [Proving Steve's words correct, the camera focuses on the face of Chris Staley, which seems to reveal that the youngster has got a better idea than a simple cover. With the fans jeering loudly, Staley walks to the corner of the ring and begins to scale the cage again. With no signs of movement from his opponent, Staley reaches the top of the cage. This time, however, he makes no attempt to climb over. Instead he hauls himself up and attempts to stand atop the cage. With his balance almost restored, Staley, in an incredibly sight, stands high over the capacity crowd, fifteen feet above ground level, his back to the ring. Pointing to Steve Roberts, Staley shouts something to the controversial broadcaster, which is not picked up by any microphone. Then, with surprisingly agility considering his size, Staley leaps into the air, arching his back as several thousands of camera flash at once, to perform a moonsault into the cage and onto the prone body of Deathbringer.] TD: What a move! What a move! Chris Staley just flew through the air to finish Deathbringer off for good. Finally he makes the cover. SR: Was _he_ pointing at _me_? Was _he_ pointing at _me_? [As Chuck Sanders registers the count, a large portion of the crowd count in unison the numbers, "One, Two, Thr... but to the disbelief of absolutely everybody in attendance, that third number isn't completed. Somehow, the right shoulder of Deathbringer lifted a few inches from the canvas. Sanders stands to proclaim that it was only a two-count, and is angrily pursued by Staley, who appears to be more in disbelief than anyone that the Dark Destroyer kicked out. With a mixture of disbelief and frustration -- frustration that his coup de gras hasn't won him the match -- Staley is about to take his anger out on Chuck Sanders, when he thinks better of it. Realising that he still has control of the match, he returns to the recovering Deathbringer and drops a leg across his face.] SR: There's no one else here... He _musta_ been pointing at me. TD: Steve Roberts, I'm in shock. This match should be over. Chris Staley has done everything expected of him to win the match. We should be watching part four of the Meatman Challenge. SR: Speaking of which... I could sure go for some sweet, succulent chicken wings right about now. Watching these two go at it really reduces your protein levels... and your desire to live. [Assisting Deathbringer from the mat, Staley Irish Whips him into the turnbuckles. With 'Bringer obviously struggling to work on anything other than instinct, he simply stands in the corner, apparently ready to collapse to the canvas at any second. Seeing an opportunity to gain the decisive pinfall, Staley hurriedly steps through the ropes and mounts the turnbuckles behind the Dark Destroyer. Reaching the top, he places one leg over his foe's shoulder, then the other, and prepares to execute a victory roll. But with one immense show of strength and desire, Deathbringer grabs the legs of Staley, throwing him to the mat face-first. As a monstrous pop reverberates around the arena, 'Bringer slumps back into the corner as he attempts to regain some composure.] TD: Unbelievable! Somehow, Deathbringer has summoned more energy. He's still fighting. He may be a veteran of the IIWF, but there are still few better. Even _you've_ got to admit that, Steve. SR: Look Dross, I've yet to admit to my torrid love affair with Princess Diana, so take it from me -- I ain't admitting that Deathbringer can still go. [Staley stumbles to his feet to reveal that blood is now flowing from his forehead at an increased pace. Despite his apparent apathy to this blood flow, Staley now appears a little dazed. He struggles to keep his feet, before he turns to Deathbringer in the corner. With the same reckless disregard for his own well-being that he's displayed throughout the match, Staley charges at the Dark Destroyer, in a desperate attempt to regain his advantage. Deathbringer, however, sees it coming, and lifts his huge boot to connect with Staley's head, knocking the young competitor to the mat.] TD: I think he knocked him out, Steve. Chris Staley has lost a lot of blood, and I don't think he's able to get up from this. The referee has started a count. [With the referee's count up to four, Deathbringer stumbles towards Staley's seemingly lifeless body, and drops down for the cover, weakly attempting to hook the leg. Chuck Sanders counts... One... Two and Two and nine tenths before Staley barely kicks out, to the collective disappointment of the capacity crowd.] TD: He didn't get him, he didn't get him. Neither man can put the other man away, and both are in pretty bad shape right now. SR: That's what I've been telling you from the start, baby dolls. Bring on Claw and the Moroccan guy. Now, that's _real_ wrestling! TD: Just enjoy the match we've got going on here, for the moment. Both men have given absolutely everything. We've spoken of Deathbringer still having what it takes, but what about Chris Staley! There's just no quit in him. We suspected he was a tough sun of a gun, and he's proving it here tonight. SR: Son of a _bitch_, Dross... He likes to be called a son of a _bitch_. TD: Good grief. [No longer displaying his immense power, Deathbringer, very slowly pulls Chris Staley to his feet, and Irish Whips him across the ring. Rebounding from the ropes, Staley ducks under a clothesline attempt, and continues to the ropes on the other side. On his return, Deathbringer attempts another clothesline, which Staley does not attempt to avoid. This time, however, he counters with an outstretched arm of his own, causing a double clothesline, which takes both men down. With both combatants flat on the canvas breathing heavily, gasping for air, referee Chuck Sanders begins a ten count... 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... Finally both men start to move, and roll onto their stomachs. Pushing themselves up as the count reaches eight, Staley is the first to stagger to his feet, followed soon after by the former World Champion. Taking a wild swing, Staley misses with a punch, almost knocking himself back to the mat in the process. Deathbringer makes no attempt to retaliate and instead backs away to regain some composure. Chris Staley, however, perhaps through youthful enthusiasm or perhaps through inexperience, once again charges at the Dark Destroyer, before attempting a cross-bodyblock. Trying to catch his lighter opponent proves unsuccessful for Deathbringer, and the force of the move and the effects of fatigue cause the two men to tumble over the top rope to the ring apron between the ropes and the side of the cage.] TD: This can't go on for much longer, Steve. Both men are drained physically and perhaps more importantly, mentally. SR: You're absolutely right, Dross. What say we call a halt to proceedings right now, declare it an honourable draw, and you and me head down to the Beaver Trap? You know what night tonight is, don't you? TD: "Two, three, or even four, can play at that game" night? SR: No, that's next week. [Again, Staley is the first to his feet, seemingly proving Dross' theory that he would have the advantage as the match progressed correct. Perhaps unhappy that his preceding cross-bodyblock was unsuccessful, Staley tries it again within the much more confined space. This time, however, Staley's body carries no further than Deathbringer's arms, as he is caught by the former champ. Taking advantage of the wound on Staley's head and forehead, 'Bringer slams Staley head-first into the steel once, twice and one final brutal third time. Without letting the youngster slip from his grasp, the Dark Destroyer walks to the turnbuckles and places his spirited opponent across the top rope, before briefly regaining his complete composure.] TD: You know what's coming next folks. It's all set up for that top-rope piledriver. SR: This place is going crazy, Dross. It's as if the morons think they're about to be fed. [To the sound of an almost deafening roar, a visibly exhausted Deathbringer begins the ascent to the top rope painfully slowly, his knee almost buckling underneath him. On reaching the second rope, 'Bringer picks up the motionless Chris Staley, before climbing to the top rope, to a simply deafening pop. Despite an injured leg, and what must surely be near-inhuman fatigue, he somehow steadies himself amidst twenty thousand fans, who wildly cheer the Dark Destroyer on. Pausing for what seems like an eternity, Deathbringer finally musters the energy to set Staley in position for "The Burial", before powering the youngster head-first into the canvas below. To an absolutely thunderous ovation, 'Bringer stretches out his giant left arm and places it across the motionless body of Staley, allowing referee, Chuck Sanders, to make the count... One... Two... Three!! Huge pop as the bell sounds, as the vast, vast majority of the capacity crowd stand to acclaim the victor. With that, the lights drop once again, as the noise levels continue to rise.] TD: It's over! Deathbringer has _finally_ put Chris Staley away. The former World Champion celebrates the second anniversary of the Double Eye with as awesome a performance as the day he first set foot in the IIWF Coliseum. SR: Calm down, Dross. He beat Staley... Big deal. Now, what about the tags, Dross? After that, I got a hankerin' for some terrific tag team action, that only the Double Eye can provide! TD: Please, Steve Roberts, your sarcasm demeans us both. You may not like him, but you've got to give Chris Staley all the credit in the world. This youngster has proven to the world that he can compete against the very best the IIWF has to offer and in any situation. [The lights in the arena finally return, to reveal that only a very disorientated Chris Staley remains in the ring, as Deathbringer has apparently performed another vanishing act, along with the Blind Guardian and his two mini-Bringers.] SR: Yeah, and who knows, in the future, he could reach such exalted heights as opening the free-for-all with Walnut, or being the innocent victim of one of the Mongolian guy's attacks. TD: Steve, need I remind you that Marty Warnett will later compete for the Intercontinental Title? SR: Don't remind me, Dross... I still wake up in a cold sweat, thinking about his last IC Title reign. [Back in the ring, a bloody and enraged Chris Staley viciously shakes one side of the cage, threatening to collapse the entire wall. But apparently thinking better of it, he instead decides to exit the cage and storms up the aisle, to where he assumes Deathbringer has disappeared.] TD: Staley is _not_ a happy camper, Steve Roberts. SR: Stop it, Dross, you're breaking my heart. TD: Folks, still to come, we'll be returning backstage to Dave Bacon, who may have discovered the identity of the special referee for the main event. SR: I know who it is. TD: Okay then, Steve. Make the announcement that Spreadbury refused to... Tell the world. [Roberts clears his throat and prepares to make a seemingly earth-shattering revelation.] SR: It's Pope John Paul II. TD: Steve Roberts! SR: No, think about, Dross. Spreadbury has been keen to increase IIWF viewers in Latin American countries... predominantly _Catholic_ countries. What better way to attract viewers than to have ol' JP makin' the three count as "the Fury" Skullpumps Annis into oblivion. TD: To any viewers that Steve has offended, we'd like to apologise. SR: But that's not all, baby dolls. Rumour has it that he's then gonna start his own IIWF stable -- Deuteronomy. TD: That aside, folks, let's go back to Larry Morton in Emeryville, California, for another update on the Meatman Challenge. Larry? [The camera fades in to the outdoor area again. Valtharius and Steele are still inside their cages on one of the conveyors. Neither man looks well; both wrestler's skin are raw from the boiling water, and each man is bleeding. Larry is shown at the announcer's section, eating... something. Dexter is nowhere to be found.] LM: [to someone off-camera] You know, these aren't bad raw. A little chewy, but... [Seeing a signal, Larry turns and faces the camera.] LM: Tim, Steve! You should have given me a little more warning. As you can see, the wrestlers are back on the conveyor belt this time, and... [With some noise, motors start up, and the conveyor belt begins to move. Valtharius and Steele, still in their cramped boxes, start moving away from the plant and over the livestock pen with the chickens.] TD: Larry, how many chickens are in that pen? LM: Dozens. They're very crowded. I tried to ask Dexter about that, and he just grinned and started laughing. [The conveyors continues to operate until the cages are right over the chicken coop. The conveyors stop, and for a second there is not any noise. Then, with a loud * CLANK! CLANK! *, the bottoms of both cages suddenly open, and both wrestlers tumble out of the cage into the chicken coop.] SR: Of all the wrestlers I would have classified as chickens... Marty Warnett, Chickenhawk, most of the tag teams... these aren't two of them. [The chickens are NOT happy to see two oversized humans land on top of them, and begins pecking away at the wrestlers. Both Valtharius and Steele are sore, tired, and having a hard time moving after their recent ordeals, so they are not defending the birds very successfully. Valtharius can be heard to be screaming "NICE BIRDIES GO AWAY!" among the chickens.] LM: There he is! [Standing on a ledge several feet above the chicken coop is Dexter Gilbreath. Dexter holds up an egg, then cracks it open and lets the yolk fall onto the metal floor. Steele spots his former employee first, and yells out. Valtharius looks up and see Gilbreath. A chicken comes up too close, and Valtharius punches it, sending it flying across the coop. The wrestlers ignore each other as they run over under the ledge and try to jump up to the ledge, but are unable to leap high enough. Dexter waves at them...] * BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT! * [For a second, the camera catches a flash of white.] SR: Morton! What the hell happened? LM: I'm not sure! Gilbreath pushed another button... the floor of the chicken coop... TD: Let me guess... the floor's metal, isn't it? LM: Yes, I think it is. SR: Spill it, Drossie. TD: The floor can be electrified. You turn up the juice and knock out the chickens. Gilbreath just electrocuted the Meatman and Valtharius. SR: Damn... That's sick. [Amidst the unconscious chickens and loose feathers are the unconscious forms of Jimmy "Meatman" Steele and Valtharius the Mad. Dexter appears and orders some of his helpers to carry the wrestlers out of the coop. It takes several of them to lift each wrestler, but soon they are heading out of the coop. Meanwhile, Dexter hops down to the chicken coop with a small table. He sets down the table and picks up the egg, which is now suitably fried. With a fork and knife, he begins to cut up the egg and take small bites. He waves to the camera as it fades back to the stadium.] TD: Folks, we'll head back over to the Meatman Challenge as soon as there are any further developments. Hopefully both Valtharius and Jimmy Steele will get some medical attention. Right now, however, it's time for our "Spin the Wheel, Make the Deal" match pitting the Baddest Thangs Running against the Black Watch. Let's go over to Sparkplug Lee to find out exactly what the stipulations will be for this one. _____ _____ \ __ \ / __ / | | \ \ / / | | | |_/ /----------------------------------------------------------\ \_| | | __ < "SPIN THE WHEEL, MAKE THE DEAL" MATCH: > __ | | | \ \ Black Watch vs. Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines & Caleb Temple / / | | | |_/ /----------------------------------------------------------\ \_| | /____/ WRITER: Jack Hoban \____\ [The crack IIWF structure crew is on the scene, already breaking down the massive steel cage that has made its home around the ring for the past two matches. While the crew monkeys get to work, Sparkplug Lee has made another appearance. At the top of the ramp, our beloved ring announcer puts the mic to his lips and greets us once again.] SL: The action hasn't stopped yet! Our next contest is one of random challenges, unknown obstacles -- it is the Wheel of Misfortune Match! [Big pop from the maniacal fans!] The rules are as follows. The Wheel of Misfortune, representing numerous devilish matches, will be spun. Then the wheel stops and picks a match for the combatants! Whatever the outrageous regulations of that particular contest, they must be followed! Anything from cage matches, to Singapore cane matches, to barbed wire baseball bat matches! Anything goes! [Another big pop from the crowd.] But first, let me introduce the first team involved in this confrontation. At a combined weight of 602 pounds... They hail from Trinity, South Carolina and Fairbanks, Alaska respectively... They are Caleb Temple and Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines... and that makes them the Baddest... Thangs... Runninggggggggg! ["Bad to the Bone" pounds out on the PA system as the two make their way out. After a monstrous explosion of flame and pyros, the hooded, kilted man pushes out the Wheel of Misfortune. Gaines is clad in his usual black boots, jeans, and a white tank top, all accented with a blood red plaid flannel shirt. He scratches his dark brown, bushy beard, while giving his famous Grizzly grin. Caleb, on the other hand, doesn't look as jovial. He wears black tights and boots, and his dark, stringy hair hangs in damp straggles over his pale face. His lean, powerful body is a mass of scar tissue and tattoos, including a huge depiction of the Crucifixion that covers his entire back, underneath which is written "Vengeance is Mine. Romans 12:19". The hooded, kilted man just hides in the shadows behind the wheel itself.] SL: Gentlemen, if you will. [Gaines mentions something to the effect of "My pleasure" and moves to spin. That is until VP Gregg Osterhout steps through the curtain waving his finger.] GO: Now wait a minute, gentlemen. It strikes me either as a remarkable coincidence that every time you spin this wheel -- before, I might add, disrupting the tag team matches here in the IIWF in a most unacceptable manner -- you always happen to have the necessary apparatus immediately to hand. If the wheel lands on barbed wire baseball bats, lo and behold, you have barbed wire baseball bats. If the wheel lands on Singapore canes, you just happen to have Singapore canes lying around. GGG: What's your point, ya little fart-stain? GO: My point, _Mr._ Gaines, is that I believe this wheel of yours... is rigged! [Gaines and Temple exchange the most momentary of glances, as if something has just gone wrong. Gaines looks back to Osterhout with a smirk of bravado on his face.] GO: And, as such, I am _confiscating_ this wheel! [Big pop as Osterhout has a couple of security heavies heave the wheel away, much to the protest of Gaines and Temple. Osterhout then wheels out another wheel, before saying:] GO: Now here, gentlemen, is a "Wheel of Misfortune" I am happy to endorse. In accordance with our "Wrestle Clean" directives, the barbed wire baseball bat match has been replaced with a "science rules" match -- no closed fists, no low blows, or instant disqualification. [Gaines and Temple exchange disgusted looks.] GO: The Singapore cane match has been replaced with a four corners match. You get the general idea. There are twelve different stipulations on this wheel -- some of them clean, some of them not. But one thing's for sure, this wheel _isn't_ rigged. TD: The "Wrestle Clean" promotion will not be deterred. SR: I wish the same could be said of ol' Fury. [With that Mr. Osterhout gives the wheel a big tug and spins it heartily. Around and around it goes, where it stops nobody knows. Or do they? When the wheel finally begins to slow, the crowd begins to cheer loudly. More loudly as it prepares to stop and goes... an extra space. Just missing "Technicians Challenge" to land on "Alaskan Death Match"! VP Osterhout scratches his head in disbelief. But before he can protest the outcome, a grinning Gaines grabs him by the seat of his pants and sends him through the curtain! The crowd goes wild!] SL: The wheel dictates this match will be an Alaskan Death Match! TD: Oh, for the love of... SR: Put that cage back up, guys! [Huge Pop! The hooded, kilted man now steps from behind the wheel with the thumbs up for both Gunnar and Temple, quickly disappearing almost unnoticed back behind the curtain himself. The Baddest Thangs Running make their way ringside as Lee discusses the rules of the match.] SL: The rules are as follows: this match will be contested inside a steel cage! [Big pop!] It will be fought under locked door rules: if anybody interferes in this contest, they will be barred from the IIWF _for_ _life_! [Another big pop!] There will be no disqualifications! The match starts with every participant taking one shot of wood grain alcohol! TD: Oh my. SL: Each time a wrestler is pinned or forced to submit, he must drink one shot! TD: Oh, this is bad. SL: The match will continue until one wrestler is knocked out cold, determined by his inability to answer a ten-count! The other team then wins! The rules are also progressive! First pin, one shot! Second pin, no matter the victim, two shots! Third pin... you get the idea! SR: This is a match where the Fury could excel. If he wasn't on his death bed. Steve, two weeks is all I'm asking. TD: The Black Watch cannot be pleased with this. [At that "Heilan' Laddie" breaks out, as the brothers Macbeth make it to the tops of the ramp. The jumbotron crackles with lightning as the Scottish duo arrive! The fans are eating it up!] SL: The other half of this contest... Weighing in at a combined weight of 586 pounds... Both hailing from the highlands of Glenfinnan, Scotland... They are Duncan... Andrew... The cousins Macbeth... They are the Black Waaaaaaaaatch!!!! [Duncan has long reddish-blond hair, green eyes unshaven, fair complexion, tall and muscular but not muscle-bound, and extremely defined, as a gymnast or acrobat would appear. Duncan wears blue full-length wrestling tights with red "thistle" striping around the waist and down each leg, and the red Lion Rampant on the chest, back, and the outside of each boot. His partner and brother is quite a sight. Andrew's childhood years of lifting hay bales and consuming mass quantities of haggis were the genesis of his massive bulk. Having just reached the age of 40, Andrew finds himself still in good fighting condition, but his once-chiselled form has acquired a smoother appearance, and his fiery red hair and beard now have a salt-and-pepper colour. He wears black Olympic-style tights with red "thistle" striping around the waist and down each leg, and the red Lion Rampant on the chest, back, and the outsides of each boot. Andrew brings the Saltire Cross flag of Scotland to the ring. The duo march down to the cage, where Gaines and Temple are waiting.] SR: I could go for a shot of that. TD: Joey Patrick is carrying the bottle of grain alcohol the teams will have to consume. The referee is going over the rules with everyone in what will be our third cage match of the evening. If I recall correctly, Gunnar and Caleb did something like this in the EWA. SR: And I played with paints in kindergarten, but we all grow up and play with the big boys sooner or later. [The crowd "Wooo!"s after each man takes their first shot of the grain alcohol. Each man winces just a little after they make their respective gulp. Joey Patrick tell the crew to close the cage door. Gaines and Andrew Macbeth look to start this thing off. Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: Personally I'm stunned our esteemed President will allow a match of this sort to go on. SR: Why? He doesn't care about the men that work in this sport. Just ask the Fury. [Gaines and Andrew Macbeth don't waste a second and begin trading blows that would cripple a normal man. Neither man is looking to block or dodge. They are just trading haymaker after haymaker. Gunnar gets the upper hand and slams Macbeth down! Leading the older brother up by his hair, Gaines catches a stiff jab below the floating rib. Pushing 'Grizzly' to the ropes and Irish whipping him, Andrew tags Duncan. Andrew charges and duck a Gaines clothesline! Duncan connects with a dropkick to one half of the Bad Thangs!] TD: Deciding to keep each other fresh, the Macbeths are quick to tag and gain an advantage. SR: Dunkin' donut just went classic with a hiptoss on Mr. Alaska. Whoop dee do... A side headlock. Can we get a time out? TD: Folks, I would like to apologise for Steve's lack of interest in this match as he is obviously thinking about the main event. [Gaines escapes the headlock with a belly to back suplex on Macbeth! Duncan pops back up and gets knocked back down! Big elbow by Gaines as he tags in Temple! Gunnar locks up Macbeth and Caleb jumps off the top rope with a double axehandle! Big Bad Pop! Gunnar leaves and Temple twists on a standing wristlock, which Duncan reverses, which Caleb rolls and brings Macbeth over and to the mat. Temple reaches down and gets a rake of the face for his troubles. As Temple tries to clear his thoughts Duncan hits with a bulldog! Andrew tags in and drops the leg across the back of Caleb. Duncan, instead of leaving goes over and mocks Gaines. With his massive reach, and a good recollection that he can't be disqualified, grabs Duncan by the hair and rips him over the rope and begins to pummel him! Huge Gunnar Screams!] TD: Gaines' devil-may-care attitude had gotten the better of the cocky Macbeth! Gunnar has Duncan bouncing against the cage... Jarring his head into the cage links! SR: Go ahead, spill it Duncan! [Temple catches Andrew in the nose with a headbutt. Then grabs him by the ears and connects with a jawbreaker! The larger Macbeth staggers back for an outlet but cannot avoid the high speed collision with Caleb's clothesline! Against the cage Gaines and Duncan Macbeth battle for leverage. Macbeth wristlocks the big Alaskan forward, grabs a tuff of hair and... Huge Mac-Pop!... Runs him face first into the corner post of the cage!] TD: Massive reverse by Duncan! He lifted the larger Gaines full force into the cage! SR: I'm not blind. TD: ... [Andrew Macbeth is on the defence as we witness a spin wheel kick drop him in his tracks. Pointing up to the rafters, Caleb Temple has the fans wild! Ricocheting off the opposite ropes, hopping over the downed Macbeth, up to the second rope... Spring board moonsault! Mac-Pop!] TD: Onto Andrew's knees! Macbeth had them up and ready for Caleb! Temple is down and Andrew covers! [The count: 1 -- 2 -- no! Temple survives that one but is quickly locked up with Andrew and is being forced back to the corner. Still outside by the cage, Gunnar has Duncan double over with a boot to the mid-section. He follows with a gutwrench to an over the knee backbreaker! Big Gunnar Pop! Grizzly then unceremoniously rolls Duncan Macbeth into the ring. He quickly follows. Temple is tossed to the side, as Andrew catches sight of big Gunnar. The massive men meet with the ominous stare down ensuing. The crowd is clamouring with anticipation!] TD: The two power-men of each team are spitting bullets and ready to shoot! SR: Where did you hear that one? TD: Fortune cookie. [The two big men lock up, but it's broken down quickly as Caleb sweeps the legs of Andrew. He, in turn, gets a hard right to the chin as Duncan wound up. Duncan ducks a "Grizzly" clothesline and turns it into a crucifix, resulting in another cover: 1 -- 2...] TD: Temple saves Gunnar! He pulled off... Oh my! Andrew Macbeth has Temple from behind! SR: Where did you get that one? Penthouse Forum? TD: I was going to say in a full nelson! And he's... [Huge Andrew Pop!] Plants Temple with a full nelson suplex! He follows with the elbowdrop! The meaty elbow explodes the breath from Caleb's chest. Not allowing a moment's rest Macbeth starts choking the smaller man! At this point Cheryl Gaines makes her way out to the top of the ramp to watch the match. The first thing she witnesses is her husband gorilla pressing Duncan into the air! And slams him down hard! Gunnar kicks Andrew off Temple and lifts his partner to his feet. The Baddest Thangs Runnin' both grab a leg and... Massive "Ow!" from all the men in the crowd!] SR: Jesus! TD: A wicked double leg split on Andrew Macbeth, who is wailing in pain! Now they are on to Duncan. Gunnar has him while Temple reverse knife edges him! Over and over! The man's chest is on fire! SR: I have to admit his wife's got me on fire. [Duncan is stunned in the corner and Temple tries to Mafia kick Andrew but the big man catches it! Temple Pop! But he is not fast enough to stop the enzuigiri kick that follows! Macbeth tumbles over in a heap. Gaines has Duncan in slop drop position. Temple races to the top rope. Gunnar Pop! First Gunnar hits with the Denial Driver! Temple Pop! Then Caleb bombs Macbeth with a frog splash!] TD: Here's the cover! One... two... three! Patrick puts the count on Duncan... he's up at four! SR: Drink up, boys! TD: Duncan is being fed that wood grain alcohol and it doesn't look like it tastes any good! SR: A little Sprite will fix that. [Duncan winces at the powerful liquid and as soon as it drunk, Joey Patrick is shoved aside and the brawl is on! Duncan charges Gunnar, clubbing him with forearms! Temple looks to keep Andrew down permanently, sending him to the ropes for a... Temple Pop! Backdrop! Surprised by the amount of rage, Gaines is sent over the top rope with a brutal superkick by Duncan Macbeth! With urgency, he charges Temple as well, who sidesteps the attack. Caleb, using his speed, armbars Macbeth. Gunnar already at the apron, gets a double ear slap by Andrew! Macbeth grabs Gaines and attempts a suplex... Which Gunnar blocks! Gunnar tries to reverse it, but it's Andrew that blocks it this time!] TD: Temple has Duncan locked up...He is trying for a double arm DDT! Duncan with a sit-down and avoids disaster! Temple's speed is amazing and... [Huge Andrew Pop!] SR: The Andy man just lifted Gunnar with a front lay out suplex to the [BLEEP]in' floor! Not bad! [Cheryl Gaines cringes, as Gunnar falls face first to the floor! His legs grate down the cage as he drops and bounces off the floor! Duncan whips temple, but its reversed and its Duncan that is sent for the ride. Andrew sees this drops and Duncan leaps... Over his cousin... Over the ropes... Duncan Pop! Crashing down onto "Grizzly"! Gaines is levelled by the mass of 275 pounds of runaway Scotsman ploughs down on him! He is wedged beneath Duncan, who himself is stumbling to get up from that wild move. But there is no rest for the wicked. Andrew totally misses Temple who baseball slides through his legs, and pounds Duncan's head on the cage! Andrew leaps off the apron and drops a big knee on Gunnar!] TD: Gaines is caught beneath all three men, after that wild fall and all the impacts, he can't get up! I can see his face is cut, getting scuffed by all the boots. Even a man of his size is trapped beneath over 800 pounds of muscle! SR: It's kind of like love, ESPN female body-builder style! [Temple is wrapped up and... Andrew Pop! ...is dropped by a Macbeth gourdbuster! With less room to operate, Temple can't avoid the huge Macbeth! Duncan is well in control of the mangled Gaines, who is promptly sent down again by a bulldog! Andrew lifts Temple up in high bear-hug. Duncan climbs up to the apron and points to the crowd!] TD: What's Duncan doing?! Andrew already has... [Massive Macbeth Pop!] Duncan hits with the Claymore on Temple!... Off Andrew's bearhug! What a move! Duncan has the cover and Andrew has intercepted the slowed Gaines! Joey Patrick is down on the floor! [Patrick makes the count: 1 -- 2 -- 3! Huge pop! And the referee starts the ten count: 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... Caleb gets up!] SR: Another round for the boys! [This time it's Caleb Temple who is forced to drink, except this time it is a double shot! The crowd chants "Drunken Monkey" as Caleb drinks. The disgusted Temple wipes his mouth and Duncan is on him!] TD: Gaines and Andrew Macbeth at it in the ring while Caleb and Duncan struggle with each other on the apron! SR: I'm struggling not leaving here and finding Steve. I can't take this wait! [While Steve battle with his emotions, Gunnar rocks Andrew with a Grizzly Slam, regular style! Cutting to the chase, he covers: 1 -- 2 -- kickout!] TD: Gaines nearly scoring a quick pin there with his patented chokeslam! He's working Andrew over with lefts and rights on the mat! SR: Shake it off Temple, or DM is gonna wreck you! [Caleb, still trying to clear the cobwebs, avoids Duncan and rolls back in the ring. Gaines goes over and meets Duncan as he climbs in, clipping him with a few boots. Temple, turning his attention to the already weakened, drops the flying fist! Turning the massive Scotsman over, he locks on the Last Rites! Andrew howls in pain, labouring to reach the rope! Duncan and Gunnar are tangled up with each other , neither man gaining ground. Much to the Baddest Thangs' advantage! The stands are alive and the fans are crazed!] TD: Last Rites! Last Rites! If Andrew submits, that's three drinks and a standing ten count! The big man has already taken a load of punishment. This must be agonising! SR: Kowalski must be suffering. I'm praying he doesn't come tonight. [Duncan is frustrated. All his attempts to get by Gunnar are thwarted and Andrew is weakening. Gaines hits with an uppercut and sends Macbeth to the ropes, bending down for a backdrop but... Duncan Pop! Which Macbeth thanks him by kicking hum squarely in the forehead! Opening a little more on the gash on his brow! Duncan rips Temple off his older cousin, via the hair, and goes ballistic! Grabbing the bottle of grain alcohol from Joey Patrick and pouring it down Caleb's throat!] TD: He's drowning Temple in that alcohol! The man could go blind! Patrick is trying to get the bottle back... [Gigantic Drunken Pop!] For the love of... He just shoved the bottle into Joey Patrick's mouth! The referee is now forced to drink! This is out of control! SR: Drinks pretty good for a ref. [Patrick is knocked aside as Gunnar pulls the bottle away and... Gunnar Pop! ...smashes it over Duncan's head! Grain alcohol and glass spilling everywhere! Duncan falls and Gaines rubs his face in the glass and alcohol! Temple is on the somewhat tired Andrew Macbeth. Once again going for the double arm DDT, Macbeth reaches down to his reserves and backdrops Temple. The wily Temple holds on and tries for a sunset flip, but can't bring Andrew over and gets crotch dropped for a pin: 1 -- 2...] TD: Broken up by Gaines! Just in time! The crew is bringing another bottle of grain to the ring for Joey Patrick, who himself, is three sheets to the wind! SR: I need a drink. [Mac-Pop! A bloody Duncan Macbeth leapfrogs over Gaines and drops a flying headbutt to Temple! Andrew snapmares Gunnar over and locks him into a reverse chinlock. The Grizzly is flailing his arms for the ropes but it's just too far away. Duncan lifts Caleb for a belly to back, but gets a thumb to the eye. Both men drop, both bouncing high. But it is Temple who locks on an arm stretcher!] TD: Two submissions on both teams, Patrick is going back and forth, asking for submissions! Who will give first? SR: Who gives a... [Patrick looks like a pinball running to each set of combatants. When he goes over to check on Gaines, the big man grabs him by the collar and pulls the bottle away! And douses it into Andrew's eyes! Macbeth pulls back, desperately trying to get the burning to stop and clear his vision! Gunnar drops the bottle and goes over and... Monstrous Bad Pop! Stretches the other arm on Duncan! The younger Macbeth is screaming!] TD: Duncan is tapping out! Duncan is tapping out! SR: Right. And if you look on the other side of the ring Big Beth has stolen the bottle from drunk Joey. You think Patrick has a drinking problem? He doesn't want to let it go. [Massive Drunken Pop Part Two! Andrew Macbeth gives the referee what he wants and pulls Patrick's head and pouring a blast down his throat! Pouring...] TD: Patrick is drowning in a sea of alcohol! [And pouring...] TD: No man can hold that much! [And pouring...] SR: My grandma can. [Gaines, furious that there was no submission, breaks the hold. And charges Andrew and Joey... One More Massive Drunken Pop! Only to be blinded by the spray of alcohol from Patrick's mouth! Temple dropkicks Andrew to the ropes, who rushes back for a counter! But Temple sits out and pulls the rope down... Temple Pop! ...allowing to crash into the cage in a bullet dive! Temple pulls up Duncan and... Huge Temple Pop! ...hits with the double arm DDT! Temple covers Duncan! But...] TD: The referee is polluted! Joey, the cover over there! No, _there_! SR: Hey, Joey, how many fingers I got up? Ah... Close enough! There he goes. [Gunnar, not letting another opportune slip away, drags Patrick bodily over the Caleb and Duncan. Joey starts the count: ONE...] SR: Today, Joey! [...TWO...] SR: Lift your hand... TD: Andrew pulled Temple off! Just in time! Gunnar is livid and... [Huge Heel Pop!] ...throws Joey Patrick aside! No DQ doesn't mean brutality of the referees! SR: They don't? [Andrew spear tackles Temple! Gunnar grabs Andrew and sends him sprawling with an elbow to the head! Gunnar and Andrew trade blows again, but this time it is more laboured and stiff. Temple collects himself, surveys the area, and drags Duncan to the middle of the ring. Climbing to the top rope he points to Duncan and leaps... Backwards... Turning... A corkscrew ballet... Mac-Pop! ...that ends in disaster!] TD: Macbeth moved! Caleb landed horribly... He is really favouring that shoulder! SR: Have you ever considered it was his favourite? TD: Duncan has a second wind! He's up and he hoists Temple on his shoulders. Oh no. He's standing over the discarded liquor bottle! He's going to... [Duncan Pop! Macbeth drills Temple with a death valley driver onto the bottle! The impact has the "pop" of a light bulb on the pavement and the sickening thud of a broken body! Gaines wrap his meaty hands around Andrew's waist and... Gunnar Pop! ...POWERBOMB!] TD: Both teams have covered at the same time! Patrick is in the middle... He's counting Temple first! What's he doing?! Gunnar has the pin at the same time! We have ONE! Which man is Patrick counting?! [Patrick's hand hits the mat a second time!] SR: I would rank that as a disadvantage. [Patrick strikes the mat THREE! Both Duncan and Gaines pop up, awaiting the ten-count on their respective victims... 1... 2... 3... Both men with their backs to Patrick, who is barely coherent... 4... 4... 4...] SR: Gee, Dross, what comes after four? TD: This is ridiculous. [Patrick breaks out of his funk and continues the count: 5... 6... Patrick only sees a downed Caleb Temple... 7... 8... 9... you can imagine Gunnar's surprises when he turns to see Patrick announce... 10... With his back to him! Patrick sweeps his arm to signal for the bell -- and then takes a nose-dive right into the canvas, apparently unconscious! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, your winners... Andrew... Duncan... THE BLACK WATCH!! TD: Gaines clearly covered Andrew Macbeth at the same time, Duncan covered Temple! Neither man got up in time! This match should be a wash! I have to say it, but The Baddest Thangs Running were robbed! SR: Referees and alcohol don't mix. [The Black Watch quickly exit the cage to a chorus of cheers and boos! Past Cheryl Gaines, who is yelling at them. Temple and Gaines, bloody in head and fiery in temper, quickly pursue the Watch when... Predator Pop! ...Bear comes barrelling down the aisleway! With a right arm wrapped in chain, he decks Gaines on the cranium and sends him rolling. Gunnar, unprepared for the confrontation, is overcome by a clubbing Bear! Before the situation can become any worse Bear is pulled back by Temple and the JJS, who bolt onto the scene. While the mayhem is being put under control, Kuyler Greyson makes his way out. Toting a mic, Kuyler speaks.] KG: About damned time. You know, Gaines, you, and your devil-may-care attitude have gotten under a lot of people's skins here in the IIWF. But that could easily be let go. Hell, everyone is annoyed at someone here in the IIWF. We mutually annoy each other to the point of violence, hell, that's what this whole show ends up being about, doesn't it? But you went a step too far. You just kept on running past that point, without really giving a damn about anything but you and yours, did you? Your shameless family who now has the honour of sitting vigil while you get patched up in the local hospital, hmm? Damn crying shame, right? Wrong. You came in here with a joke that should never have been allowed. A lot of people were hurt by it. A lot of fans who expected something better out of you. And brain-dead morons like our tag team champion, Joe Petrow took it one step further, playing the lie up for all it was worthless, just to further a feud... a goddamned lie. I didn't say a word when the "poisoning" started. It didn't belong here. None of it belonged here. And none of this... not the cheers... not the lights, the boos... and not the money... none of it has ever been worth trying to kill someone over. Jimmy Steele, I and my team said NOTHING to you since that day, because you broke one of the cardinal laws of the ring. When the day is done, you GO HOME. You forget about it. You train, you work, you do what the hell you have to do to make sure that the next time, you come out on top. You _don't_ try to poison a man, or his family, for what the hell happens here. You don't run him down with a car on the street, send a hitman to his house, kidnap his family. Hell, if this was so vital, where were the police, hmm? It was all across the country, where were the charges of fraudulent death? It's a game. A very risky game. People hurt, people bleed, and on a rare occasion, people die in that ring. Steve Kowalski is going into that ring tonight knowing full well he could die, but because _the_ _game_ is all to him. There's nothing more he stands for. He's no actor, he doesn't sell sports drinks, and he sure as hell doesn't market himself as any sort of a saviour. You started this, Steele, by crossing a major line. And somewhere, somehow, you still came out a fan favourite. Don't cross our paths, Steele. The fans may have forgotten, but we don't. Gunnar Gaines... top wrestling talent, all around bad-ass, son of a bitch, the guy you love to hate. How many death threats you get before this "gimmick"? How many after? You ever pause to think once, that maybe, just maybe, you took it a damn step too far? Bear's wanted a piece of you for a long time, Gaines. Do you know what it's like to talk a twenty-one year old man out of trying to end your career? Destroy your family? Wreck everything you've lived for? All because you were just too STUPID to rely on the talent that God gave you? To have to pretend that most sacred of things, a child's life, was extinguished, just so you could get a title shot at Joe Petrow and Mighty Mouse Maurice? What happened here tonight should be a warning to you, Gaines. Learn something from it. We're never going to like you, or what you've done... but some measure of revenge was earned tonight for every single fan that ever gave a damn for you, only for you to spit in their eyes and laugh. And Joe Petrow... yeah, I see you sitting there, with McArthur at your side, amidst your bottom-dwelling Sicko-paths... You'd better hope to God that the Prophets put you out of wrestling tonight. You'd better hope you never get as stupid an idea as mimicking the loss of a child again. You'd better _pray_ that I can calm Bear down in this little hiatus, before he meets you again. Because your life right now, know it or not, isn't worth a damn thing. In fact, maybe you can do us all a favour, hmm? Take that title, take your crazy fans, take your partner McArthur, and walk back out of this federation... until you can find enough of that "honour" you profess that no one has but yourself to act like a man and show some goddamn dignity. You're not as "skilled" as you claim to be, and your little "Hallmark moments" with Maurice and son don't make you any less guilty of your place in this... and more than a few of us would rather see Chris Quigley have put your ass in a wheelchair than listen to another of your rants. Nothing is more important than life. Especially a child's life. You like us, you hate us, what we did tonight balanced the scales more than just a little. [Walking over to the Cheryl Gaines, glaring at her.] Put the child up for adoption. There isn't a worthwhile parent among you to raise the child after this stunt. No parents worth their salt would ever even _THINK_ of allowing a stunt like this to occur. And thank whatever God you pray to the Bear didn't go after you first. [Walking back to the announcers' table, looking at both Roberts and Dross, then back to Roberts] You got anything snide to say about all this, knock yourself out. The people buy tickets and cheer for people who have lives outside the ring, but put that behind them when they enter this building. The people important to us are occidental in our words, in how we appear to you. They should not be used as weapons or targets, ammunition for feuds, or reasons one person wants to beat the hell out of another. If anyone has a problem with me about any of this, contact me outside of this forum and talk to me man to man. Otherwise, keep your mouths shut and put on the show the folks came to see. This discourse is over. [Throws down the mic, exits as the crowd stands silent.] TD: Oh my, Steve Roberts. I suppose it was only a matter of time before somebody caught up to Gunnar Gaines for that shocking, despicable hoax he pulled concerning his young son Lawrence Gaines -- and tonight Bear of the Natural Predators caught up with Gaines in a big way. SR: Just as well Gaines is so tanked up on that wood grain alcohol, or he might have really felt that, Dross. [The Hooded Kilted Man and Cheryl Gaines help the Grizzly one to his feet. He is unsteady and bleeding from a laceration on his head made by the chain gouging out chunks of his flesh, but his face is nonetheless contorted in anger. Gaines makes his way back to the locker room to a big heel pop from the fans.] TD: What a match that was, Steve Roberts. In just a few minutes, we'll see Tiger Claw battle the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi in their no rules encounter -- but in the meantime, as the ring crew disassemble this steel cage, let's head over to Larry Morton for an update on the Meatman Challenge. Larry? [The camera fades back to the now-familiar outdoor arena. At the broadcast position, Larry Morton and Dexter Gilbreath stand and face the camera.] LM: Tim, those lunatics that are friends of Mr. Gilbreath's here have finally gotten the Meatman and Valtharius out of the chicken coop. Neither man has regained consciousness. SR: Hey, Dex... you like your egg? DG: [smiling] Fifty thousand volts will get an egg to the proper cooking temperature... and also will knock two ignorant savages off into dreamland. TD: So, now what will happen to them? [Instead of answering, Dexter waits until the wrestlers are on the other conveyor, and presses two buttons. The first button starts up the conveyors. The second conveyor changes the images on the large screens.] SR: Great. Another film clip. I may just kill the bastard myself. [The film clip shows large quantities of raw meat moving on a conveyor through the Meatman Industries Plant. The voiceover explains.] VO: Here at Meatman Industries, we believe that proper care for your meat keeps it fresher, allowing the vitamins, minerals, and flavour to stay longer. Therefore, we have perfected the freeze-dry process of storing meat. [The film clips ends, and the screens show the unconscious bodies of Valtharius and Steele moving through the conveyor, then stopping as machines start to work on the bodies.] TD: You're not... SR: Yep, Dross ol' buddy. He is. LM: He's shrink-wrapping them! [The machines surround both Valtharius and Steele with the wrap to completely surround the bodies, then heats up the conveyor, allowing the wrap to shrink and form-fit the wrestlers. After a moment, the conveyor continues to move again.] DG: Now that the cutlets are wrapped, we should put the "Freeze" in "Freeze-Dry". [A robotic gun approaches the wrestlers, and a cloud of gas escapes the gun. By now, the three announcers are so numb that they are incapable of shock, and can only report in a monotone.] LM: I believe that they are being hit with... I don't believe this... liquid nitrogen. TD: Oh my... SR: Spreadbury's trying to kill them. TD: Not Spreadbury. Dexter. [Mister Gilbreath's grin is from ear-to-ear as the liquid nitrogen covers the wrestlers. Eventually, the gun finishes, and the conveyor starts up again, showing Steele and Valtharius in their new freeze-dried state.] LM: I... I have no idea what else Dexter Gilbreath has in store for them. And I implore, Mr. Spreadbury, if you can hear this, stop this "Challenge" now! It'll be a miracle if neither man is permanently injured. Do you want their blood on your hands?! [Cut back to the broadcast table in the IIWF Coliseum as Larry Morton looks incredulously at the smirking Dexter Gilbreath.] TD: Oh my. I really can't believe what we're seeing here tonight, Steve Roberts. Folks, we must move on. We are just moments away from the main event of this second hour, as Big Greggy Cool and "Iconoclast" Sean Watts prepare for the crowning of the "King of the Cruisers". But before that happens, the fans will be treated to a battle between two of the most hated high fliers in the IIWF's history, as Tiger Claw, formerly of the Syndicate, squares off against former Cruiserweight Champion Takezo Musashi. Steve, you have to be loving this. SR: Let me put it this way, Drossy. That Ether-nopian Musashi has become a right little bastard in the ring, hurting people just for the sake of the hurt. While Nordic Track Icehawk and that crazy Canadian Bastard Mota play wimpy little feuds back and forth, Musashi has remained one of the most dangerous men in the IIWF today. But Dross, he's facing one of the most dangerous men in the Double Eye's history. Tiger Claw killed a man, for Christ's sake, and came here. While Ike Sampson killed a woman and ate a hot dog, Claw killed a red blooded man and came to wreak his havoc here. He's hungry for blood. And this match may not be suitable for your kids, folks. Send 'em out to play in the streets or whatever, send 'em out to get you cigarettes. This is manly stuff coming up here. No Chuck Norris action here. TD: You may be right about that, Steve. Musashi is, like it or not, a name associated with the IIWF, a name that has been a standard, if for nothing else, uncertainty. The irony isn't lost here that Tiger Claw, having been eliminated from the King of Cruisers tournament, returns to IIWF action for the Second Birthday Bash. Even if he's only here for the money. Tiger Claw is one of the people who made this federation stand forward, though I would imagine when he and Lau put the league President through the mat, something stuck in his mind. SR: Yeah. The canvas nails. TD: However much these two men hate each other, this is something that could only happen here in the IIWF, and I'm not entirely sure the execs want to make this a weekly thing. SR: Oh, come on now... you mean we can't go for the Hollywood glitz and glamour and let these two savage ninjas beat each other up weekly? TD: Looks like Sparky's getting set to make the introductions. SR: HEY! You in the front row, get those raincoats on! This ain't no Gallagher show, and the red stuff that hits you won't be watermelon... _____ _____ \ __ \ / __ / | | \ \ / / | | | |_/ /----------------------------------------------------------\ \_| | | __ < GRUDGE MATCH: > __ | | | \ \ Tiger Claw vs. "Enigma" Takezo Musashi / / | | | |_/ /----------------------------------------------------------\ \_| | /____/ WRITER: André Dec \____\ [Sparky ascends the stairs, with the mike, receiving a loud roar of approval as he tests the mike for the umpteenth time this evening] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, this next match... is a Grudge Match... scheduled for one fall... the only way a person can with this match is by knocking their opponent out for a standing ten count. No DQ! [Loud cheers] NO COUNTOUT! [Louder cheers!] NO RULES! [Enormous hardcore roar!] Introducing first... an IIWF legend... and a man whose return to the IIWF has added more to his legacy than ever before. He is a Muay Thai master who has held the IIWF Intercontinental Championship three times and comprised one half of the former Tag Team Champions, the Syndicate! He weighs in at 220lbs... from Toronto, Ontario, Canada... he is TIIIIIIIIGER CLAWWWWWWWWW! [Hardcore cheers mix with loud boos as "The Gentle Art of Making Enemies" by Faith No More blares over the speakers...rotating spotlights leave tiger stripes along the floor as the cruiserweight, carrying a steel chair, makes his way to the ring. The fans around the aisle start lobbing trash at him, bits and pieces of everything as he walks straight for the ring itself. As he enters the ring, kneeling in the Wai Kru as part of the Ram Muay, the audience is bathed with Tiger-striped lights as black and orange smoke issues from jets along the jumbotron] TD: Tiger Claw looks as focused as I've ever seen him, Roberts. SR: Oh yeah, Poppa Soundbite's gonna see blood, baby...And a little secret... one of these two men is going to put old Anus out to pasture... 'cuz I know something you don't know... TD: Neither of these men has any love lost for Kowalski, so I'm not even biting at that bait... SR: Damn. SL: And his opponent... twice a IIWF cruiserweight champion, third ranked among active superstars and sixth ranked overall in terms of career wins in the IIWF. His name is also a legacy in the IIWF... weighing in at 210lbs... from Kobe, Japan, he is the "EEENIGMAAAAAAA" TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKEZOOOOO MUSASHIIIIIIII! [John Coltrane's "Stellar Regions" is drowned out by a vocal crowd, boos and hardcore cheers showering the Japanese superstar with more rubbish along the aisle. Streaks of laser lights burn over his head from above the entrance to the edge of the ring, and a large question mark appears on the Jumbotron. As he hops up onto the apron and Dave D'Amato addresses him, the Enigma explodes with fury.] TD: And it looks like we're underway, as Tiger Claw lands the chair shot early on Musashi! [Ding! Ding! Ding!] SR: Oh, man, the little guy's on the cement already...this better not be one of those Tyson things. TD: Musashi a little woozy, as Tiger Claw rebounds off the ropes and hits a corkscrew dropkick through the middle of the ropes! SR: Dr. Claw putting Madcat out for the night... [The fans react as Musashi becomes a victim to a series of lightning fast kicks, throwing cups filled with soda and popcorn at the former champions. Tiger Claw plants a solid side-kick square in the chest of the Enigma, driving him back. Musashi, however, kips-up back up and a series of quick blocks and ducks give the audience a view of a flurry of arms and legs, but no contact.] SR: Come on! damn it, what's with you! Hit him! TD: The Enigma slipping on the rubbish outside the ring here...this could be trouble. [And it is. As Musashi slides on a flung half-eaten hot dog, Tiger Claw slams him upside the chin with a Muay Thai elbow strike, sending the former Cruiserweight champ down. Musashi, on his side, sweeps Tiger Claw's legs, catching the hook of his foot behind the knee, knocking him forward into the steel pole.] TD: You have to admit, Steve, the action is heating up... SR: Like trying to boil water by putting ice cubes in it...come on, damn it, blood! Now! TD: Without a doubt, tonight we've seen some hardcore action, which leads to the question of what will Steve Kowalski face in the ring when he steps out...? SR: Damn it Dross, two little Ralph Macchio wannabes are gonna be bloody and you going to make me worry? Focus! BLOOD! [Musashi is first to rise, landing a solid bootstrike to the throat of his opponent before Dave D'Amato tells him to back off...Musashi enters the ring for the first time as Tiger Claw slowly rises... standing at eight.] SR: Already showing some signs of strategy, taking a breather. TD: Both men are among the upper echelon of... OH MY! [Musashi, not waiting for the action to resume in the ring, bounds off the ropes, leaping to the second rope, boosting himself to the top, and hitting the Starsault Press on Tiger Claw as he stands below. Both men are slow to rise as the count begins on both of them] SR: That Micronesian Madman just hit the Starsault! TD: Impressive stuff, and both men paying for it right now. SR: You know, I had to pay for it once... TD: Let me guess... best weekend of your life? SR: Nah. She's paid every time since. TD: Shecky Roberts, ladies and... AGH! [The count broken at seven, both men brawling outside the ring, Musashi rips the headset from Tim Dross and uses the wires to choke Tiger Claw... not to be outdone, Claw takes the hand held mic and slams it into Musashi's eye, the metal guard drawing the first blood.] SR: Ah! I see it! A trickle, a drop to start the flood! TD: [putting on the spare headset]...-ly imagine what the Spanish Broadcast team is saying now... SR: Welcome back, Hoss. TD: This match getting out of control early! SR: Newsflash, big guy... It ain't supposed to be in control! This is the sort of thing Big Poppa Hump likes to see! TD: "Big Poppa Hump?" SR: Not the Quasimodo type, Dross... focus! [Meanwhile, Musashi and Tiger Claw have slowly moved back to the ring, Musashi dragging tiger Claw in by the headset, snapping him over in a takedown with his throat still wrapped in the cord. Releasing the hold, taking the steel chair that Tiger Claw had used earlier, Musashi turns Tiger Claw onto his stomach, setting the rim of the chair across the back of his neck. In a brutally violent move, Musashi pulls the cord of the microphone taut, wrapping it around the legs of the folding chair, and jumping a quick stomp on the metal, driving the rim, and his weight, onto the back of Tiger Claw's neck! Huge crowd response, boos and garbage filling the ring] TD: Oh my God! That kind of move could kill a man! SR: One of the things about this little Yemenenian that's changed so much is his killer instinct... Big Daddy like what Big Daddy see! TD: Tiger Claw is rolling around the ring as Dave D'Amato pushes Musashi back to a neutral corner to start the count... [Male sympathy pop, loud boos.] SR: YEAH! Musashi nails D'Amato with a crotch shot! TD: Manhandling the referee? Is he mad? Even if he can't be disqualified, he faces a heavy fine... SR: I don't think the little fruitcake cares...he smells blood! [Tiger Claw has finally unwound the cord from around his throat, only for Musashi to stomp on his back and apply a camel clutch. Tiger Claw screams out in agony at the tremendous pressure put on his neck and lower back...and Musashi releases, dropkicking Claw in the face as he slowly starts to rise.] TD: Musashi just dominating this match...and he's going outside the ring! SR: He's taking one of the wooden chairs form the audience! [crowd boos, then laughs as a fat man pushes Musashi on the shoulder and belches in his face, allowing Tiger Claw to get up slowly. Musashi responds by grabbing the man's beer and ramming it, cup and all, into his crotch, to which the crowd responds with a chorus of boos.] TD: Not very fan-orientated, is he? SR: Why should he be if that guy wanted to get into the action? Hey, crotch-wetter! Rule number one, flabby-cakes. You don't touch the wrestlers! TD: Musashi in the ring now with that chair... Tiger Claw only on his knees and... [Male sympathy pop as Tiger Claw drives first a fist, then a head butt, into the groin of Takezo Musashi, following quickly by hooking his knees and pulling him down, the chair falling to the side. ] SR: That's gonna leave a mark on generations to come for the Cambodian Cuckoo... TD: He still has the legs! Claw's turning him over into a Boston Crab! He won't get a submission out of this match! SR: He doesn't want a submission! He wants to cripple him! TD: Dave D'Amato slowly coming to his senses...this hold just wearing more and more down on Musashi, and he's screaming for help... [Crowd pops as movement in the rafters registers.] SR: Aw hell, don't tell me we've got another pasty faced freak in the IIWF now... next thing you know, "Gamey Gregg" will come out with a bleached blonde Requiem and we have to start this all over again... and I just... TD: Please, Steve Roberts. Hold on -- look! [the Jumbotron registers a huge red glove] SR: NO! Damn you, no! Blinky the one eyed-wrestler is NOT returning here! TD: I thought he was your guest referee... SR: Shut up, Dross! I don't want that freak anywhere near this fed again! TD: D'Amato still stunned...he's just fallen back over! Musashi is almost out! [A figure in street clothes rappels down from the ceiling, wearing a red glove. In a quick motion, he grabs Tiger Claw by the ears, ripping him off Musashi, turning him to come face to face with...] SR: JOE F'N PETROW! Son of a bitch! TD: Petrow coming to the aid of Musashi! Kick to the gut! Cattle Buster! [Dropping Tiger Claw to the mat, a tug on the line hoists Petrow back up, to a sea of jeers and badly-aimed cups.] SR: Joe Petrow makes an entrance in style and drops Tiger Claw... D'Amato is slowly getting up... and we have two men hurting in the ring? WHERE'S MY BLOOD, FRUITCUPS? [Musashi is the first up, kneeling at Tiger Claw's side, pressing his thumbs into Tiger Claw's eyeballs! The crowd reacts with boos and squirms as Tiger Claw finally breaks the hold with an elbow shot to the throat of Musashi... as he opens his eyes.] TD: Oh my... That... that's just nasty. SR: I've seen it before, it's not the worst thing... Worked for Julia Ormond... TD: He slid his eyeball off to the side! SR: ...of course, he looks like Marty Feldman now... TD: Steve Roberts! SR: This is a hardcore match, Dross... what did you expect, Quigley on a stick? These two want to hurt each other... TD: From the camera's shots, it looks like the cut is just under the eyeball, through the lower eyelid... the blood flow is getting bad there... SR: It just goes like that for a minute, Dross... there's only so much blood there... but Musashi is seriously staggered from the throat shot. TD: Can his eye be fixed? SR: Oh, hell yeah... it's just... well... icky to look at. Blood I can do, and do gladly... but that's just squidgy... TD: I think I'm going to be sick... SR: Aim for the Sycopaths! They'll love it! [Tiger Claw lays into Musashi with as series of hard kicks, shaking his head, trying to clear his vision. Claw drags the limp Musashi to the ropes, standing on the middle rope himself.] TD: What's he trying to do...? SR: Looks like he's setting him up for a suplex...but I don't get it. TD: Bouncing on the second rope...lifting Musashi up and dropping him over the top rope head first! Like a senton with no one there! SR: Had a futon with no one there once... TD: And? SR: Worst weekend of my life. TD: D'Amato finally up and checking Tiger Claw's eyes... trying to check his vision, but Claw won't stand still! Senton of his own! SR: And he just shellacked that bald spot tonight, so that's going to hurt! TD: Would you please stop, Steve Roberts. SR: That hit was a little farther off centre than he'd hoped, I'm sure...he hit the rib cage, which hurts like hell, but also isn't good for you. Not like a head first dive is good anyway, but... TD: I think his vision may be impaired here, Steve Roberts...he's trying to clear his vision, and Dave D'Amato is laying the count down on Musashi. SR: You know, Drossy, I love these matches... the brutality, the ferocity... this is the sort of thing ol' Poppa Soundbite used to excel in. TD: Yeah... you're a regular pit-fighting champion there. The Soundbite Stall put many down for the count? SR: Don't incite the L'il Soundbiters to violence, Dross. TD: Musashi getting up slowly at the seven count, and greeted by a fierce heel kick from Tiger Claw. I tell you, there has never been a PPV like the Birthday Bash... Oh my! [HUGE crowd eruption as Joe Petrow's red glove drops from the rafters on Tiger Claw's bald head... Claw, in a rage, bellows for the Sycopath to get down there... affording time for Musashi to crawl around the side of the metal barrier and use it to lift himself up to his feet. Tiger Claw turns and is met with a spinwheel kick to the mouth, his lip split as both men tumble down.] SR: The little Pago-Pagoite caught TC with a surprise move there. TD: Musashi lifting the metal barrier... he won't rip it loose. SR: Doesn't have to, baby dolls. Look... [The crowd reacts vocally, as Musashi slams the metal base of the guardrail into Tiger Claw's forehead, doing the weight press like he did before. The sharp edge of the metal cuts into Tiger Claw's head, bringing forth another line of blood... D'Amato struggles to regain control, calling for Musashi to back off, and Musashi reacts by grabbing him by the collar and rearing back with an open hand. He's about to hit D'Amato, when a full cup of soda blasts him from behind, thrown from the crowd.] TD: Who threw that? Get the cameras in there... SR: OH MY GOD! IT'S LANNY FOWLER! LANNY FOWLER IS HERE! TD: Wait... who's Lanny Fowler? SR: Are you blind, Dross? He's the bald fat guy who bought that seat! TD: And this is important because...? SR: Lanny and I were in the war together. I threw myself on top of a sixteen year old girl and saved his life... TD: Steve Roberts, ladies and gentlemen. SR: He's also our guest referee for... TD: He is not, Steve Roberts. SR: Spoilsport. [Musashi grabs Claw by the ears, and resorts to that most famous of boxing moves... the bite. Tiger Claw yells in pain as Musashi sinks his teeth into TC's nose, reacting violently with an inverted atomic drop and a spinning spinebuster, dropping his neck on the top of the railing] SR: And Tiger Claw is back on top! Looks like he cut open the back of Musashi's head with that one... grabbing Musashi by the head and ramming him into the steel bars over and over! TD: This is terrible, Steve... these two men could kill each other! SR: Yeah... [Musashi begins to fight back, rolling over and driving fist after fist into Tiger Claw's face, before standing and reaching into the crowd, grabbing a woman by the neck and pulling a hairpin from her hair... eliciting more boos from the crowd. Tiger Claw starts to stand, only to get the hairpin in his forehead, pulling the cut open more and shooting blood through the aisle] TD: The carnage! SR: There's a souvenir for you, kids... just don't wash those shirts. Heh-heh. [Wrenching hand from his head and the hairpin from Musashi, Tiger Claw fires a series of hard shots well below the belt... D'Amato is forced to run for cover when Tiger Claw makes a fist with the hairpin between his fingers, driving it into Musashi's crotch and pressing him up for a gorilla press slam on the metal ramp. He scrambles to climb the crew ladder to the upper level... Musashi reaching out and grabbing a foot, only to get a boot to the face...] TD: Claw changing his mind now...going backstage with Musashi! We switch to the Jumbotron for the action, as the camera crew follows! [First stop is a locker room, where the Mini-Harlequins, Bobby B. Goode, and Casey C. are involved in a game of cards, the Rotundos watching the action on a big screen TV, eating chili:] OLAF R: Got any more jalapeños? SIGISMUND R: You got it. [Musashi is hurled through the card table, Casey C. rising to try and stop Tiger Claw but getting a knee to the gut for his effort. Bobby B. Goode is grabbed and Claw rams his head into Musashi's... the Rotundos rise and try to double clothesline Claw, but he leapfrogs them, planting his feet in both of their backs, toppling them onto Musashi.] SR: God, I love it! I wish the Smooth were here... I wonder what he'd say about the chance to get into this fight. TD: Probably "Smooth like truly." SR: You know... you're probably right. [Dave D'Amato struggles to get the Rotundos off Musashi, blood on their chests from his laceration on the back of his head, and, when he's rolled, a deep cut into his left leg from the wooden table as is shattered and was rammed into him. Tiger Claw grabs Mini-Tragedy, also called Little Dilemma, and Michinoku drivers him into the gut of Musashi...] TD: He's abusing the minis! SR: Wrestling's entered a new epoch. Only thing worse than minis are mini-tags. That mini six-man tag match was just annoying... mini-Harlequins vs. L'il Thunder and the Down Children... TD: He has no right to do that, Steve Roberts. They're just as important as... SR: As what? TD: Well... some members of this organisation. SR: Yeah. The janitors. [Claw grabs the jar of jalapeño peppers and pours the juice over the bloody wounds of Musashi, making him cry out in pain... the fans love it as Tiny Terror is grabbed and powerbombed not once, not twice, but five times into the Prone Musashi, before Dave D'Amato again starts the count...] TD: Good grief. He looks like a demented muppet with his eyes like that. SR: I will give you five thousand dollars if you go up to him, put your finger in his chest, and tell him that to his face. TD: Uh... I'll pass. SR: Musashi's getting up! Damn, what's it take for that little Ecuadorian to stay down? TD: His leg is bleeding profusely, Steve Roberts. SR: From here, looks like the blood count is about equal. TD: Why is D'Amato letting this continue? SR: These two bastards wanted this match...and they may well kill each other to get the end result. [Musashi is slow in rising, favouring the badly gashed leg, as Tiger Claw approaches again... and walks into a fast slash from Musashi.] TD: His stomach's bleeding! SR: Musashi with a piece of the broken table... maybe even the same piece that blooded his leg... gets a quick shot at Tiger Claw. TD: But TC grabbing one of the legs and clubbing Musashi over the head and shoulders with it! And D'Amato pushes him back! SR: Deck the ref! [Claw throws the piece of wood at the ref, who ducks... cowering back as Claw lifts Musashi by the hair, dragging him into the men's room. A roar of rage before the cameraman enters, and Seadog runs out, his pants around his ankles, in a burst of fear.] SR: Hope he remembered to flush... TD: The crew enters the men's room... what the hell? [Musashi is held in position for a powerbomb...right by the full wall urinals] TD: That's concrete and plaster! SR: That's also urine, Drossy... I don't think he really wants to be hit into either. [Instead of a powerbomb, however, Claw piledrives Musashi onto the concrete floor... the gash on Musashi's head now unable to be seen for the blood which coats his face. The crowd cheers as the googlie-eyed Tiger Claw sees the camera crew, and grabs the camera. The last image seen before the static is the lens of the camera lifted high and slammed down onto Musashi's face.] TD: We've lost contact! Oh God, Musashi could get killed back there! Get another camera! SR: Yeah. I blinked the first time. I want to see that again. TD: I'm getting word the fighting is moving upstairs...Becky...? [Cut to Becky LaRue, backstage in the Coliseum.] BL: As you can see, the bloody piles of pulp are getting closer to me... the battle's moving up the staircase... I think I can see them now... [The camera swings around the corner as, coming up the steps, ramming his head into every step on the way, Tiger Claw and the crawling Musashi. Musashi sends a karate shot into Claw's cut gut, only for Claw to land a solid kick to his thigh, making him fall and slide back a few steps. Both men are extremely bloody.] BL: Oh my... Guys, I'm getting the hell out of here. [Claw hauls Musashi to the top of the stairwell, setting him again for a piledriver or powerbomb...as Dave D'Amato rounds the corner, seeing this, trying to stop the carnage...as Musashi is lifted again for a powerbomb down the stairs, he boosts himself out of Tiger Claw's hands and comes down hard on his bad leg, sending him down, wincing. Tiger Claw, meanwhile, grabs him by the head, only to be greeted by a headbutt to the midsection, and a legsweep takedown. Unfortunately, Tiger Claw lurches forward, still holding Musashi, and both men go tumbling down the staircase, hitting the wall hard at the end... Dave D'Amato checks both men...and begins to lay down the count.] TD: Action fast and furious, and now neither man is moving. SR: Like an episode of "Homicide: Life on the Streets"... blood everywhere, and bodies in the stairwell... TD: D'Amato at six... seven... neither man in any way moving... SR: He's hit ten... and both men are out of it. [The bell rings, as D'Amato looks into the Jumbotron, shaking his head. Sparky re-enters the ring, avoiding the scups and garbage along the way, cleanup crews already hurrying to the aisleway.] SL: The decision of the referee, as a result of a double KO... this match is officially a DRAW! A DRAW! [The crowd jeers the decision.] TD: These two athletes gave their all, and a draw is the end result... Musashi had the early advantage, but almost lost several times to Tiger Claw along the way... both of these fierce fierce competitors in need of medical attention now! SR: And you know what? Those crazy bastards are no doubt going to be back in the ring, doing this again, as soon as they can. War is hell. TD: Hell, indeed, Steve Roberts. Somewhere not far removed from hell right about now is that meat processing plant in Emeryville, California, where Valtharius the Mad and Jimmy "the Meatman" Steele have been subjected to all kinds of torture -- being drugged, locked in cages, beaten, electrocuted, scalded... and even shrink-wrapped. I understand we can now go live to Larry Morton at the plant for another update. Larry? [The camera fades back in to the Meatman Industries Plant. The shrunk-wrap Jimmy Steele and Valtharius are now dumped into the empty livestock bin. They are struggling to escape the shrink-wrap, but the liquid nitrogen is giving them problems. The camera pans over to Larry Morton, who is eating a hot dog and talking to the cameraman.] LM: Yeah, Gilbreath gave us the hot dogs and told us to go ahead and eat them. Said they were the ideal food for this place, and this challenge. They taste a little funny, but I've had eight of them myself, and... we're on? [Larry sets down the hot dog, getting some mustard on his suit, and faces the camera.] LM: We're back! About fifteen minutes ago, Jimmy Steele and Valtharius were carried on the conveyors and dumped into the empty pen over there. Mr. Gilbreath disappeared at that point. Just a few minutes ago, both men woke up about the same time. But neither has been able to fully escape the shrink-wrap. It's not that the wrap is so difficult, but after all of their ordeals, plus the liquid nitrogen, gives them quite a burden to free themselves. But I believe Jimmy Steele is starting to break free, and... TD: What is it, Larry? LM: I see Dexter, and he has a microphone. [Dexter stands on the conveyor, and points down at Jimmy Steele. The large screens are filled with his picture as he speaks.] DG: Before I destroy you Jim Steele, and by default yourself Valtharius; you -- and these repressed homosexuals called fans -- deserve an explanation. As a lad, I pursued science avidly. In fact, I was conducting thermal ignition experiments upon a colony of ants when Jim Steele -- the lumbering ox -- kicked the magnifying glass from my hand. "Those ants might believe in God," you said. Mr. Steele? I AM GOD! One day, in a similar manner, you interrupted an animal autopsy of mine. "Don't go pokin' a dead dog," you said, then broke my stick in two. You said "Respect the dead," and then you kicked my ass. Mr. Steele? I RESPECT SCIENCE! I went on to study biophysics and agriculture at Stanford while you sold pheasant eggs out of a cardboard box. I never thought I'd see your open mouth again. I graduated top of the school. Offers blew in from the U.S.D.A, Smithfield foods, and McDonalds. One start-up company caught my eye with a six figure offer. "Head of R & D at Steele Family Farms." I never put the name together until the day _you_ walked across the shop floor and handed me my cheque. I hate you, Jim Steele, because _you_ made me the man I am today. You in your front office. Do you know what it's like to work in the slaughterhouse every day? How many pigs I have seen scalded alive? How many cows I have seen with their skin ripped off? I took you from fifty hogs a day to twenty thousand, not to mention countless herds of cattle and innumerable chickens. They all want what I want. They want to ESCAPE THE SLAUGHTERHOUSE, they want to LIVE, and they want REVENGE! Jim Steele, you speak about the screams that disturb your sleep. The screams of the pigs and the cows and the chickens. I hear them, too. I hear the screams. I see them as well. I see their skinned and dismembered and scalded bodies squirm as they go to slaughter. I see them. I hear them. I feel them. I feel their blood. I'm up to my knees and my elbows in their blood. Then, I open my eyes, and -- IT'S MY LIFE! IT'S NOT A DREAM! I LIVE IT EVERY DAY!! You think you know, but you don't know. Do you want to know? Do you want to know what it's like to be a PIECE OF MEAT? REQUEST GRANTED! HA HA HA HA HA! [Gilbreath picks up a dinner bell and rings it. Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!] DG: COME AND GET IT! GOODBYE, JIM STEELE! [The flaps on the side of the pen open, and six lean, grey wolves come barging through the door. The fans scream as the wolves fill the screen. They have a wild, hungry look in their eyes, and they immediately head towards the shrink-wrapped wrestlers.] LM: Oh my God! Oh my God! Those wolves are going after Steele and Valtharius! He's going to have those wolves eat the Meatman and Valtharius! [Upon seeing the wolves, both Valtharius and Steele redouble their efforts to get out of the shrink-wrap. It's a race between man and wolf. The wolves win. The first wolf reaches up and sinks his teeth into the leg of Jimmy Steele, busting through the shrink-wrap and drawing blood. Steele yells, but now his leg is partially free. Meanwhile, Valtharius manages to get one arm free of the shrink-wrap, and is pulling it from his body as two wolves leap and tackle him. The wolves begin snapping at him as he yanks off the remaining shrink-wrap. The other three wolves join the first in attacking Steele, and he is having more trouble defending himself.] TD: Who in the world would consider this to be wrestling? It's setting up two human beings to be attacked by dangerous animals. This is sick. [Steele is surround by the wolves. He is lashing out as well as he can with his legs, but his arms are still trapped, and the four wolves keep biting him. Also, his wounded leg is bleeding freely. Jimmy Steele is in trouble. Valtharius, on the other hand... A wolf goes flying by as a result of a fist from the Italian Gladiator. Valtharius lets out a roar that quiets everyone in the audience, then starts to scream.] V: DOGGIES COME PLAY WITH VALTHARIUS!!! DOGGIES PLAY WITH VALTHARIUS AND MEATHEAD! [Valtharius takes three steps and joins the pile that is the four wolves and Jimmy Steele. Valtharius reaches over and rips off the last part of the shrink-wrap binding the Meatman's arms. Jimmy Steele smiles, rears back with a fist... and throws a punch behind Valtharius to the wolf behind him. Valtharius and Steele stand back to back, surrounded by the wolves.] TD: This is odd. Jimmy "Meatman" Steele and Valtharius are working together to stop the wolves. SR: This entire thing is [BLEEP]ing weird, Dross. Speaking of weird, where is the bastard that came up with this? LM: I'll look for Dexter Gilbreath. [The camera keep focusing on the livestock pen. Valtharius and the Meatman are working surprisingly well. Valtharius storms over to the wolves, chasing them to the left... where they are nailed by a boot from the Meatman. Two wolves try to jump the wrestlers, but Steele throws his off... and Valtharius bites the wolf in the arm, drawing a loud yelp from the wolf.] LM: Hey! Get the camera over there! [One of the cameras pan away from the wolves, over towards an open area, where three very large Cultists are smacking around Dexter Gilbreath. Dexter, bleeding from the mouth, manages to duck under a fist from the Karachean Cultist and run over to a waiting limousine. He opens the door, and be heard screaming "DRIVE! GET OUT OF HERE!" to the driver. The limousine begins to move.] TD: Dexter Gilbreath is getting away. Hopefully he... SR: I don't think so, Dross. Look over there. [Off to one side of the screen in the unconscious form of a man in a chauffeur's uniform.] TD: But if he's there, who's driving the lim... [The limousine pulls up... right next to the cultists. The driver's window rolls down, and the fourth Karachean Cultist is seen behind the wheel. A Cultist opens each of the doors on the side of Mr. Gilbreath, and gets in the limousine. Dexter's screams for help can be heard as the limo drives away.] SR: Boy. In serious trouble with Karachel. It makes you feel sorry for poor Dex. [pause] SR: No, it doesn't. [The camera has swung back to the pen, where the wrestlers are still fighting with the wolves. Both Valtharius and Steele are bleeding from the various bite on their body. Steele is limping badly on his one leg, and Valtharius has a growing red spot on under his shirt. But the amazing thing is the wide grin that both men possess as they continue to attack the wolves. It's obvious that the wolves are losing badly. The camera fades back to the IIWF Coliseum.] TD: Ladies and gentlemen, I have never seen anything like this in all my years associated with this sport... and I never want to see anything like it again. We'll head back over to Emeryville a little later -- but right now, it's time for some real _wrestling_. SR: What, it's the main event already? TD: No, Steve. It's time for the final match of the "King of the Cruisers" tournament. Folks, this tournament has produced some of the most exciting matches we have seen in the IIWF for many months, courtesy of some of the most exciting young talents in the world today. But from the initial sixteen entrants, we are down to our two finalists: "Iconoclast" Sean Watts, and Big Greggy Cool. This is sure to be a show-stealer, folks, so let's get straight up to the ring for the action. _____ _____ \ __ \ / __ / | | \ \ / / | | | |_/ /----------------------------------------------------------\ \_| | | __ < IIWF KING OF THE CRUISERS TOURNAMENT FINAL: > __ | | | \ \ "Iconoclast" Sean Watts vs. Big Greggy Cool / / | | | |_/ /----------------------------------------------------------\ \_| | /____/ WRITER: Ian Jalbert \____\ [Sparkplug Lee walks back into the ring. As he bends over to pick up the microphone, the crowd realises that his pants are ripped and he quickly announces the wrestlers, his face quickly turning beet red.] SL: The following match is the final match of the King of the Cruisers Tournament! It is set for one fall with a sixty minute time limit! Coming to the ring, he is a former NPWA Cruiserweight Champion, weighing in at 200 lbs., he is BIG GREGGY COOL! ["Bounce" by Run DMC starts playing and the whole crowd starts literally bouncing! Big Greggy Cool walks out from the dressing room, waving his arms back and forth to the beat. The entire crowd seems to be jumping up and down to Greggy's enjoyment, as one huge-chested woman in the first row pops out of her outfit. Greggy kindly finds a place in his heart to "help" her back into her top, a huge smile on his face after this obviously staged incident.] SR: I think he's got a woody. TD: Oh Steve, stop it. He was just being a gentleman. [Big Greggy Cool finally makes it into the ring, still soaking in the crowd reaction as we see his t-shirt which reads "Sir Wrestling Says 'You Got No Skills'". He just begins warming up as the camera quickly spins back to the entrance.] SL: And his opponent, representing SCRA, he is from Seattle, Washington and weighs 238 lbs., he is the "ICONOCLAST" SEAN WATTS! [A number of huge explosions immediately go off throughout the arena as Sean Watts comes out slowly. The Iconoclast steps into the arena, a huge pop coming from the crowd. "Search and Destroy" by Iggy and the Stooges plays louder than ever as the fireworks keep on coming strong! Watts makes his way to the ring with determination, but amusedly keeps his eyes on the fireworks as he goes by, almost admiring the show that he has become a part of. Outside the ring, Big Greggy Cool is now sitting in an arm chair, a corn cob pipe in his mouth, acting like a true gentleman.] TD: That's funny, look at Big Greggy Cool at ringside there. I don't know what he's trying to do here, but he is a riot to watch. SR: Dross, think about it. The man is an idiot. He brings an otter to the ring, and... TD: An otter? SR: Take a look. TD: Oh boy... [The crowd starts laughing as the Portland Otter, a staple of Portland area wrestling comes out, posing to the crowd. The Otter gets a few cheers on the way in, doing the Macarena until he reaches the ring, high-fiving Big Greggy Cool before taking his place at ringside.] TD: Finally this match gets underway. [Both wrestlers finally are face to face in the ring, and Big Greggy Cool extends his hand to Sean Watts. The Iconoclast wants nothing to do with this and slaps the hand away! Greggy quickly dons a hurt look on his face, but slowly comes back in for a standard lockup. Watts quickly goes for a takedown but Greggy refuses to let Watts get behind him, dropping to his knees and stopping the momentum. Greggy gives a sign of acknowledgement before getting back up to his feet for another lockup. This time, Greggy gets the advantage, and both men try to reverse the momentum until they finally wind up stuck in the corner. The referee signals for a break, and Big Greggy Cool immediately backs out of the hold.] TD: Greggy seems quite insistent on being sportsmanlike tonight, Steve. Is he hoping to make a new friend in Sean Watts? SR: Don't count on it, Dross. I think he wants to be a hell of a lot more than friends after this match is gonna be over. [Watts quickly takes advantage of the moment and kicks Greggy in the stomach! BGC bends over in pain, and is subject to a Snap Mare by Watts. The Iconoclast quickly follows up on this move with a Front Facelock, keeping the quicker man off his feet.] TD: I don't know why Greggy is trying to be so sportsmanlike tonight, but it certainly seems to be backfiring on him so far. [Greggy powers himself back up to his feet, but the leg of Watts keeps him tripped up and knocks him back down to the mat. BGC refuses to let himself be facing away from Watts, however, and he turns the hold into a Side Headlock. The Iconoclast grabs an arm of Greggy and goes to turn the hold into a Rocker Dropper, but Greggy reverses the momentum and hits a Back Suplex! Watts gets back up to his feet and is caught with an Arm Drag by Big Greggy Cool! Finally Watts sticks his head out of the ring, causing another break.] SR: You know, I really like this kid. He's got the Soundbite Stall mastered already. I think he's got a real future, know what I'm sayin'? [Greggy immediately backs away, following the rules to a T. Watts just takes his time, looking at BGC strangely as he adjusts his wristbands. Watts immediately dives at Big Greggy Cool, taking him down with a Shoulder Block. Watts once again goes to the mat, sticking on Head Scissors on BGC. Greggy attempts to reach the ropes with his arm, but is just a few feet short and can't break the hold. BGC kicks out his feet, feeling the constriction of the hold, and barely gets a hold of the bottom rope with a foot. The referee signals for another break, but Watts doesn't let go, keeping the pressure on for a few more seconds before letting the move end. Greggy quickly shoots up and goes to punch Watts in the face, but thinks twice and uses an open hand strike instead. Watts comes back with a punch of his own, starting a long trade-off of blows which Watts gets the advantage because of the impact of his knuckles. Greggy is sent reeling to the corner, and Watts takes the opportunity to hiptoss him out. Big Greggy Cool is livid, holding his back in pain, complaining to the referee.] TD: Is Greggy beginning to crack here? I still haven't figured out his plan yet. SR: Easy. He's hopin' to get some after the match, so he can't injure Watts. TD: But Watts is taking advantage of BGC's sportsmanship so far. How long can it last? SR: Oh, for BGC? About two minutes, the women tell me. TD: Are you sure you don't know first-hand? SR: Don't make me bring out my Asai Moonsault again, Dross. [Watts once again gains the advantage, getting an armbar on BGC, but Greggy Irish whips Watts into the ropes, ducking under another shoulder block, this time watching Watts hit the mat hard. BGC takes advantage of the moment and gets a sidewalk slam on Watts, and then bounces off the second rope with a quick splash. Greggy signals to the fans, who go nuts for their guy! BGC picks up Watts by the hair, hitting him with a forearm smash just after saying, "Your dad told me to give you this!" The Iconoclast is weak, staggering off a few feet before Greggy catches up to him, laying a double axehandle onto his back, knocking him down to his knees. Greggy bounces off against the ropes and hits a running leg drop to the neck of Watts, completely knocking him down to the ground. Outside the ring, the Portland Otter is getting the fans to start a loud "BGC! BGC!" chant, which is enthusiastically picked up.] TD: Now it's Big Greggy's turn to take the upper hand. Both men are superb counter wrestlers and I'm sure we could see the tide turning numerous times tonight! SR: These little freaks look like they could go all night. Now that's something that the Soundbite can respect. Takes a lot of control to do that. TD: Like you would know. SR: Second warning, Dross. I'm warmin' up right now, I tell ya. [A tilt-a-whirl backbreaker by BGC keeps the momentum going as he goes for a quick cover: 1 -- 2 -- but Watts kicks out strongly! Greggy stands on top of the fallen Watts and... extends a hand to help him back up to his feet! Of course, Watts won't have any of it, back-pedalling into the corner once again, breaking the sequence. BGC looks a little frustrated, but once again extends his hand in friendship. Watts backs out of the corner, but is quickly caught in a front facelock by Greggy, taking him over with a quick DDT! The fans begin cheering loudly after a slow start to the match! Big Greggy Cool looks around to the crowd with a big smile on his face and hits a running knee drop to the face of Sean Watts.] TD: Watts is going to have a sore nose tomorrow! SR: He won't be able to sit down tomorrow either, 'cause BGC is kickin' his ass! [After a few more stomps to the face for good measure, Big Greggy Cool backs onto the second turnbuckle and flies off with a splash! Good execution on the move, but BGC's lower weight keeps it from doing too much damage. Cover by Big Greggy Cool, but Watts kicks out after a two count. BGC stands against the far ropes, waiting for Watts to get up to his feet before attempting his next manoeuvre. The Iconoclast grabs the referee by the sleeve and signals for something.] SR: What's going on? TD: I think that Watts is telling the referee that Greggy is concealing a foreign item! And now the referee is checking the boots of BGC for something, anything that would prove this. SR: And Watts just used it as a ruse! He just nailed Big Greggy Cool with a clothesline! TD: And the referee was caught in the crossfire! He's down! [The Portland Otter looks around to the fans and back towards the ring, thinking about aiding his friend. Inside the ring, Watts gets in a quick hamstring pull to help keep Greggy out of the skies, and then goes to lock on an Indian deathlock, but Greggy grabs him by the trunks and tosses him out of the ring! Watts manages to brace himself on the way out and doesn't hit the cement floor too hard, but is now at the mercy of the Portland Otter! The Otter looks around at the fans who are barely taking him seriously, but out of the blue he reaches under the ring and pulls out a giant sized oar! The Otter winds up with the oar... and...] TD: Eddy Jacks is now at ringside! He just grabbed the oar from the Portland Otter! SR: Oh man, I can feel this one coming... TD: Eddy Jacks just hit the Pancake Poison on the Portland Otter! The poor mascot is out cold on the cement floor! He could be injured here! SR: What the hell? This poor innocent mascot was just gettin' ready to hit Sean Watts with an oar! And you feel sorry for this little jerk? [Jacks just stands over the Portland Otter, and looks up to the fans who give him a huge "I-I-W-F! I-I-W-F!" chant for the hardcore move. Jacks then shakes the hand of Sean Watts and helps him back into the ring. Inside the ring, we have Big Greggy Cool, who is attempting to apologise for the lewd behaviour of his ringside guest, but Watts doesn't take any of it and lays into Greggy with a series of punches!] TD: Now Sean Watts is an angry man! SR: Serge Annis he ain't -- not yet -- but you still don't wanna cross with him when he's pissed. [An Irish whip into the corner stuns Greggy, who bounces back and is caught with an Inside Cradle for the pin! 1 -- 2 -- but Big Greggy Cool kicks out at the last second! Watts slaps his hand on the mat, hoping for the pin there, but the referee's slow count due to his recovering from being knocked out was a major reason. Watts tosses Big Greggy Cool into the ropes and catches him with a great Belly-to-Belly Suplex! The fans appreciate the execution of this move and begin cheering for Watts for the first time tonight! Outside the ring, Jacks is slapping the mat, encouraging his friend.] TD: We weren't really aware of the relations between the Iconoclast and Eddy Jacks, but they apparently are friends. SR: Either that, or Jacks is just setting up Watts for a betrayal right now. [The EMTs are finishing carrying off the Portland Otter back to the dressing room, as the Iconoclast hits Big Greggy Cool with a Release German Suplex. Greggy gets back up to his feet as quickly as he can, and is caught with yet another release German suplex by Watts. This time Greggy falls into the ropes and lands outside the ring. Watts looks out at the crowd and quickly darts out from between the ropes.] TD: So much for sportsmanship by Sean Watts tonight! The Iconoclast comes running down the apron and slingshots Big Greggy Cool onto the steel railing! SR: Well, what do you expect when it's two on one? TD: Hey, the Otter interfered first. SR: He's an otter, dammit! [Sean Watts tells Eddy Jacks to stay back, and loosens the ring steps, pulling them off their base. He then grabs Big Greggy Cool and gives him a drop toehold, sending BGC flying head first into the steps! Greggy lies dazed on the floor, holding his head. A few drops of blood are seen dripping from between his fingers. Watts quickly goes back to the attack, applying a Front Suplex to Big Greggy Cool, letting him drop stomach first on the steel steps. The crowd gives a collective groan and gives a huge heel pop for the Iconoclast! Jacks just stands back, admiring Sean's handiwork.] TD: Now Sean Watts is brutally taking down Big Greggy Cool! Greggy's been cut open here! SR: Tim, I don't think that Sir Wrestling is the father of the Iconoclast. As a matter of fact, I'd have to say that I've finally tracked down Soundbite Jr.! TD: Soundbite Jr.? You mean you actually called one of your spawn by that name? SR: What? What? [Watts tosses Greggy back into the ring, climbing to the top rope on his way in. Of course with Greggy being blinded by the blood in his eyes, he backs mistakenly into the ropes, sending Watts back over the top rope into the crowd!] TD: OH MY! We're used to seeing the usual crotch shot there, but Sean Watts fell off the top rope into the first row! SR: Get the lawyers here ASAP, Dross. Those morons are gonna be complainin' about back injuries in about five seconds. TD: Isn't that what you did? SR: Who do you think taught them, moron? [Greggy does a quick dance in the ring before climbing to the top rope himself. Of course, this time he doesn't fall, diving higher than we've ever seen him before with a Somersault Tope into the crowd! Both men lay unconscious outside the ring, with Greggy having partially landed on a steel chair. The referee continues counting out the two men... 4... 5... 6...] TD: This whole tournament could end without a winner here, Steve Roberts! This is not a No DQ match! This could end in a double count-out! What would happen then? SR: Well, they'd have to buy a damn bigger crown to fit both of their heads in it. [Fearing the prospect of having KINGS of the Cruiserweights, the referee suddenly stops counting, and resumes at the count of one again.] SR: Is it just me, or do you question the credibility of these refs? TD: Either that, or their ability to count, Steve. [Greggy is clutching his right knee in pain while Sean Watts is still showing no signs of life. Eddy Jacks pulls the guard railing off, giving the two men a clear path to the ring, eventually throwing both men back into the ring, Big Greggy Cool a bit more forcibly. Greggy tries to turn himself over to cover Watts, but his knee is killing him, making it excruciating to go over.] TD: You have to admire the tenacity of both of these wrestlers, Steve. They've eliminated the favourites already, with Sean Watts defeating "Armitage" Steven Spector and Big Greggy Cool beating "Playboy" Ronnie D. Hey, Watts even beat the controversial Tiger Claw to make it here! SR: Yeah, these guys are pretty tough, Dross. But all the past stuff don't matter, it's the guy with enough guts tonight that's gonna be remembered. TD: If Big Greggy Cool turns himself around here, he'll be considered the best Cruiserweight in the world today, bar none! And he's making it over! [Big Greggy Cool finally turns himself over, draping his arm over Sean Watts for the pin attempt! 1 -- 2 -- but the Iconoclast kicks out at the last possible second! The fans give a huge pop for the tenacity of the wrestlers as Greggy yells out a few token words to the referee, a look of complete exhaustion on his face. Greggy stumbles up, but loses his footing due to his knee and falls right back down to the mat! Meanwhile, Sean Watts grabs a hold of BGC's leg and wraps on an Inside Cradle! 1 -- 2 -- but Big Greggy Cool kicks out of the quick pin! This time it's Watts' turn to show frustration at the endurance of his opponent. Watts gets behind his opponent and goes for...] TD: The Iconoclasm! This one's all over! SR: No! Greggy was ready for it! He took a wild elbow and smashed Watts in the jaw with it! TD: Was that a tooth that went flying there? [Watts is holding his mouth in pain, as Big Greggy Cool grabs a hold of him and hits a reverse neckbreaker! Greggy goes for the pin! 1 -- 2 -- and once again Sean Watts kicks out of the hold! Big Greggy Cool looks up into the sky, amazed at the fact that he didn't take it there, wondering what he has to do to put the Iconoclast away. Greggy looks to the top rope and climbs once more, trying to end it with one final hold, but Sean Watts somehow... somehow makes it back up to his feet! But even then not fast enough, as Big Greggy Cool leaps off the top rope with a hurricanrana!] TD: He missed! He missed the move! Greggy has gone crashing into the mat hard! SR: He didn't completely miss! He didn't get the move over, but it ended up being some weird funky head-scissors neck-snapper kinda move! Even deadlier! [Both men are just lying there, but the referee notices that one of Watts' arms is covering the prone body of Big Greggy Cool! He counts the pin! 1 -- 2 --3! Ding! Ding! Ding! The ring bell goes nuts as the referee raises the arm of "Iconoclast" Sean Watts in victory!] TD: That's it! The Iconoclast has won the tournament! Sean Watts is the greatest Cruiserweight in the world, and there is no disputing it! SR: Wait a minute... maybe there is! [The referee looks around in confusion as he sees that the left foot of Big Greggy Cool is on the bottom rope, and he signals to the timekeeper to continue the match! The ring bell sounds once more to signal that the match is to continue!] TD: Unbelievable! Watts is livid! He had that match won! [Eddy Jacks is threatening the referee, who turns from the action to attempt to send the big man back to the dressing room. Jacks eventually backs away, but refuses to leave the ringside area. Inside the ring, Watts is slowly getting up, neck badly injured from the botched hold, but attempting the final move to put away Big Greggy Cool forever. He drags up Greggy, and bounces off the ropes... but Greggy attempts a Crescent Kick on the Iconoclast!] TD: Reversed! Sean Watts ducked under the Crescent Kick! And now he... he stoops over in pain! That duck under just aggravated his neck injury! [Big Greggy Cool takes advantage of the opportunity and wraps his arm around the neck of the Iconoclast, delivering the BGCDDT! The referee gets down and counts the pin! 1 -- 2 -- 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the match, and the winner of the King of the Cruisers Tournament... he is BIG GREGGY COOL!! [The fans are erupting as they celebrate the victory of the fan favourite! Big Greggy Cool just lies there, still covering Sean Watts, unable to get back up to his feet. The referee helps him up, but even then BGC holds onto the ropes for support. Eddy Jacks slides into the ring, staring at Big Greggy Cool viciously, but simply aids his friend out of the ring, back to the dressing rooms. The fans give a pop for Watts as he makes his exit, recognising the spirit that he seemingly hides most of the time, but that led him so far through this tournament. "Bounce" begins playing once more as Big Greggy Cool tries to do a dance... any dance, but just has enough energy to wiggle his hips around a bit, still drawing a huge reaction from the crowd.] TD: Incredible! Big Greggy Cool has taken it all the way, giving him recognition as the greatest Cruiserweight in the world! But what a great match it was! This was an incredible culmination to one of the greatest tournaments in the history of the IIWF! SR: Dammit, Dross, it sucked. How else can you describe any tournament that had Big Greggy Cool winning? Now if Jr. had won it, that's a different story... I hate this job... [Out of the dressing rooms comes the IIWF President Daniel Spreadbury, followed by the Vice President Gregg Osterhout and Special Advisor Ian Jalbert. Spreadbury is carrying a velvet pillow with a shiny crown resting on it. BGC is looking ecstatic at the view of his crown, not realising that he would have the chance to be the King of the Cruiserweights in practice as well as in title. The three administrators enter the ring, proud looks on their faces as they prepare for the crowning. Daniel Spreadbury picks up the house mic and begins to speak.] DS: Congratulations Big Greggy Cool, on this huge win! You now have quite the bragging rights! We're here to present you with this... TD: What the hell? [Out from the crowd, a man wearing blue jeans and a "Pride" t-shirt runs into the ring, grabbing the crown from Daniel Spreadbury. He throws it to the ground, and then kicks Big Greggy Cool in the gut, hunching him over just enough to nail a DDT on the crown! Greggy falls to the ground, out cold as the intruder stares at the camera just long enough for us to recognise him as...] TD: That's... that's Ronnie Paris! That's Ronnie Paris! He just DDT'd Big Greggy Cool onto the King of the Cruisers Crown! [Paris quickly grabs hold of the crown and bolts back into the crowd, getting lost in the chaos as security guards attempt to track him down. All there's left is a trail of chaos, with Big Greggy Cool injured inside the ring, and the three administrators looking around in confusion. The camera quickly switches back to Tim Dross and Steve Roberts at ringside.] TD: I can't believe it! Just as we were about to see Big Greggy Cool get crowned, all of a sudden Ronnie Paris makes his reappearance in the IIWF! SR: I don't know what to think, Dross! That one even had me by surprise! I think the Soundbite Army might be comin' back! TD: Who knows what's going on here! Paris sure didn't make a good impression when he left the IIWF in January. I seriously don't think that Spreadbury would sign him to another contract. SR: Either way, he's got the crown! Someone's gonna have to take it away from him, and it ain't gonna be me! Better for him to have it than that lamer Big Geeky Cool or whatever they call him! TD: Well, it seems Greggy is okay, he's being helped up to his feet by Mr. Spreadbury and his aides. He wasn't injured badly, but I'm sure his pride is hurt. And the worst thing is that this might be the last we hear from him as he will be returning to his home base, the NPWA. Since our President didn't have much of a chance to congratulate him, I'd like to take that chance right now and thank him and all the participants in this tourney for their effort. SR: Dross! It sucked! Big Greggy Cool won! Think about it! TD: You're not one to decide, Steve. Anyways, we still have the biggest matches of the evening to come, let's keep this night going! SR: Thank god. TD: Folks, we'll be right back in just a few moments with four incredible championship matches. All of the IIWF's titles are on the line tonight, and we'll find out just who that special guest referee for the main event is, when we come back! [Cut to a wide-angle shot of the Coliseum as the IIWF President and his entourage angrily head back to the locker room, Spreadbury tossing the velvet cushion into the crowd in frustration as they leave ringside. 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+