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[UWF/MBC] Online Countdown to RBR [03.27.10]; Slush's Nest of Love!
Topic Started: Apr 10 2010, 12:14 AM (218 Views)
Flouzemaker
The Luther Burger
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
[Fade to the cozy confines of an ever portable office. This isn't the first time we'll see this portable office and most definitely won't be the last. Sitting at the customary desk is UWF/MBC Owner and President Kyle Lee. His feet are propped up as he's looking through a batch of paperwork.]

KL: So he actually came to the corporate office?

[Standing nearby is UWF Commissioner Allison Chambers. She looks fairly nervous and probably for good reason.]

AC: Checkbook and all.

[The paperwork that Lee is looking through includes documents and checks, presumably the ones written by Juan Vazquez.]

AC: I think he was wanting to make a point.

KL: Of what? Saying we're going bankrupt without his money?

AC: More or less.

KL: Well making bull[MEEP] like that up and a dollar will get him a cup of coffee.

[Lee pulls out one particular check, giving it extra attention.]

KL: The memo line on this one says... "For NyQuila."

[Lee then looks over the associated document.]

KL: Slush put in an injury claim from the Kinsey/Vazquez fight?

AC: He needed it for his "mental anguish" or so he claims.

[Lee pulls his feet from the desk and sits straight. He sets all the paperwork aside before pulling out a pen to mark something on the "NyQuila" check. When done, he hands that check and document back to Allison.]

KL: Give him the check back. I'm not making him pay for fraudulent claims.

AC: But don't you think that he should....

KL: The purpose of the fine was to show that I wasn't going to put up with inappropriate behavior. Making him pay for NyQuila for Slush or a Nintendo Wii Fit for Tumaffi would defeat the whole point.

[Without saying another word, Allison takes the check and document.]

KL: We have a bad reputation as authority figures as is, thanks to the issue with The Guard and the UWF World Champion. I don't need something else to throw gasoline on the fire.

AC: So... this is the point where you're firing me?

[There is a long pause as Allison expects the worst and Lee lets her stew in the silence. He leans back in his chair and props his feet back up.]

KL: No.

[Allison looks up in astonishment. She's about to speak, not that she should protest not being fired but Lee raises a finger to silence her.]

KL: Most people expect that I'm going to get rid of you because of The Guard and Trey DaMann, among other things. But those people haven't seen the hard work you put in to get the UWF on track nor have they seen a lot of the good you've done. Is letting the Guard contract going through unforgiveable? Pretty much. However, I believe in second chances.

[Allison still doesn't look relieved.]

KL: I'm not going to claim that I haven't made mistakes with the merger. There are any number of people ready to point them out. That number is just a small sample of people who don't like me and want to see me fail. What all that means is I need people I can trust to learn from their mistakes. I can trust you to do that yes?

AC: Of course.

KL: I want you to spend more time with Commissioner Carlisle-Skullhead. She's got the benefit of experience on her side and I think you could learn from that. You may even want to see if she'll teach you her voodoo trick.

AC: Voodoo?

KL: It'll make sense once you see it. Oh... and one last thing.

[Lee pulls a file from the top of his desk and opens it.]

KL: You're no longer to deal directly with Miyuki Ozaki. When dealing with her you come across as...

AC: Too lenient?

KL: More like a "crazed lesbian stalker." While that earns you points with a good amount of our male fans, it's bad for business. So I've appointed a liaison between her and the league office.

AC: Understood sir.

KL: Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some more messes I've got to fix.

[Fade.]


==============================
UWF/MBC ONLINE COUNTDOWN TO
RAMPAGE BLOODY RAMPAGE
==============================
Wachovia Center in
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
March 27th, 2010
==============================


[Customarily, these online reports would be filmed in one of the arena's luxury suites. However, we are not there. Instead we are taken to a room... a dark, dark room... filled with candles and... incense? There is a large heart shaped bed. You may be thinking all right, we're about to get sexified up in here. But alas...]

Slush: Awwww yeah. Who wants to touch me?

[...we get Slush, stretched out on the bed, wearing a bathrobe and unfortunately, there is a strong possibility that he's got nothing else on. Let us hope that unfortunate nudity isn't a theme for the coming show.]

Slush: So I saw that little thing that Nikki the Cat did a few days ago. People asked me: "Are you jealous? Are you offended? Are you turned on?" Well, I ask "why not all three?"

Tinkle: MEEP!

[Yes, Tinkle is there, rolling around on the floor in a hamster ball.]

Slush: Either way, I wasn't about to let somebody beat me at my own game, no matter how hot she is, By the way, NIKKI CALL ME!

Tinkle: MEEP!

Slush: No, I don't think she'd eat you.

Tinkle: MEEP!

Slush: I don't think she's kinky enough for that.

Tinkle: MEEP!

Slush: Well for one, she didn't star in "An Officer and A Gentleman."

Tinkle: ...

Slush: Anyways, I bribed Seth the Cameraman here...

Seth the Cameraman: Dude! Don't be using my name!

Slush: ...went out to my luxurious private dressing room...

Seth: This place reeks of Bengay and cough medicine!

Slush: ...got comfortable...

Seth: You so need pants dude.

Slush: And have taken over Online Countdown. But we're renaming it, in tribute to my new love Nikki the Cat and of course, to remind everyone of the greatness of my old love, myself. So I present to you... ahem... I present to you... SETH! SHOW THE DAMN LOGO!

[A hand from off camera holds up a sign made out of notebook and construction paper. It reads:

SLUSH'S NEST O'LOVE!

Somewhere, a boom box plays Slush's theme song, "Bad Things" by Jace Everett.]

Slush: I swear to god Seth! I should fire you!

Seth: I'm union jerkhole!

Slush: Then get me a sandwich!

Seth: [MEEP] you! That wasn't covered in the hundred you gave me!

Slush: I gave you a hundred? I pulled the wrong bill out of my wallet.

Seth: You mean thing with Dora the Explorer on it?

Slush: SILENCE!

[On screen appears a little white barn-like building with a red door and boarded windowsills. Red letters on a white sign above the entrance label the establishment as Ginny's "Little Longhorn Saloon." We follow a woman in a black hoodie as she slips inside.

No need to see much of the establishment to tell how dingy it is. Instead of colored balls, a big cage tops the pool table, a fat chicken roaming inside it. It clucks to David Allen Coe's voice as he sings "You Never Even Called Me By My Name" over defective speaker. The hooded woman slaloms through busy tables to until she reaches who she was seeking: a large man with a buzz cut and straight back, nursing a lager at the neon lighted bar. The woman grabs a pair of handcuffs and, with a deft flick of her wrist, locks the man's hand to the bar column.

Unflappable, the man, only known as Schmidt, turns towards the girl in black.]

Schmidt: There was no need for the handcuffs, Chloë. My services are still on the market.

Sylhouette: Better to be safe than sorry.

Schmidt: That's what your father had said... How did you find me?

Sylhouette: William Houlder.

Schmidt: [A grunt.] That man needs a complete spinal transplant.

[Something looks odd about Schmidt.]

Sylhouette: You're drunk!

Schmidt: Barely.

Sylhouette: Who tipped off my father?

Schmidt: What?

Sylhouette: Last year, who was it? Who ratted me out? Who told my father I was wrestling?

Schmidt: If you're asking me, that means he did not tell you, did he.

Sylhouette: Let's just say we're not on speaking terms.

[Sylhouette takes off the hood of her shirt, the very same she wore to the ring last month, revealing her dirty blond hair and her usual black rubber mask. Yes, she still has her mask, even in this setting.]

Sylhouette: But you and I, we're speaking right now. So tell me.

Schmidt: [A humorless chuckle.] He never told me either. [He takes a sip.] So, how is it that you're back on this side of the pond?

Sylhouette: If you have no information for me, I have none for you.

Schmidt: Fair enough. I don't know who sold you out, Chloë, but I do have my suspicions.

Sylhouette: Enlighten me, please.

Schmidt: Can't you guess yourself?

Sylhouette: If I could, I wouldn't be here, now would I?

Schmidt: The other smarty pants I know can see the obvious a little bit better than you can.

Sylhouette: Just spit it out.

[The vacationing ex-military bounty hunter takes another sip of beer.]

Schmidt: If TV cop shows taught us anything, it's that the guilty is always the ones that profits most from the crime.

Sylhouette: No one profits fr-

Schmidt: You sure? At the time, on Saturday Night Rampage, you were booked in a six way match for a Women's North American Title shot. Did that not air in France?

Sylhouette: I didn't feel like watching.

Schmidt: In any case, the women chosen to replace you in that match ended up winning the title shot.

Sylhouette: Who was it?

Schmidt: She's the only participant in this week's 6-way ladder match that already has another title shot in her back pocket.

Sylhouette: Who?

Schmidt: Let's narrow down the list of suspects, shall we? [He smirks.] Who, among the UWF women, knows your real identity?

Sylhouette: None of them.

[The bounty hunter chuckles and takes a sip of beer.]

Sylhouette: No one knows... Gamma Ray didn't even know!

Schmidt: That's not true.

Sylhouette: He didn't even care. He was just happy to call me "Gamma Girl."

Schmidt: I mean to say that there is one woman on the roster that most certainly knows your real name, Chloë.

Sylhouette: Yes, but...

Schmidt: Finally. You're quite correct. Miss Allison Leask earned a title shot thanks to your departure, and is also the only one who knows your full name.

Sylhouette: But she wouldn't do it, though.

Schmidt: Is that so.

Sylhouette: She wouldn't! She's my friend!

Schmidt: When you both step into that ring, on Saturday, and look above the ring at that shiny championship, will you be friends or opponents?

Sylhouette: We'll be both. Friendship and competition are not mutually exclusive. She just wouldn't do that sort of thing.

Schmidt: Maybe she wouldn't if she was left to her own devices, but there's a man that has a great deal of influence on her, someone with her ear, a manager that has little affection for you, Chloë.

Sylhouette: Brad Collins?

Schmidt: Mr. Collins became a very useful informer. Taking you home was a lot easier with his assistance...

Sylhouette: She wouldn't do it. Corvette would never do that.

Schmidt: That's right. You still believe there's such a thing as friendship in wrestling. How touching.

Sylhouette: She'd never try to end my career and rat me out like that, she wouldn't.

Schmidt: In that case, I'm afraid I can't help you find what you're looking for, you stupid, stupid girl.

[Schmidt turns to order another brew. Sylhouette, meanwhile, is essentially stunned to silence and immobility.]

Schmidt: I'd appreciate if you could remove these handcuffs before you leave, though.

[Sylhouette hesitates, then sighs and unlocks the cuffs.]

Schmidt: Much appreciated.

Sylhouette: Feels like I still owe you something, though.

Schmidt: That's alright. You get a freebie for all I've told you today.

Sylhouette: No, that's not it...

Schmidt: Hmm?

[With a swift jerk, Sylhouette's knee flies up to displace Schmidt's crotch. He spits out his lager and crumples to the floor cradling the Schmidt family jewels.]

Sylhouette: There. That's feels a little bit better.

[The image fades out as the few opening lines of the Soggy Bottom Boys' "I'm a Man of Constant Sorrow" echoes in the dingy bar.]

Slush: Ever see that movie "Cannonball Run"?

Seth: No. That’s like a movie for dinosaurs.

Slush: How about "Cannonball Run II"?

Seth: Man are you deaf?

Slush: Tinkle?

Tinkle: MEEP!

Slush: Yes, I miss the comedic stylings of Dom Deluise as well.

Seth: What’s with the dinosaur movie references?

Slush: Oh I picture that French woman and the other dude driving across the country in various sports cars. That's the American Dream right?

Seth: As if.

[The camera cuts to Felicia Marley, leaning in close to what appears (from the pixelazation) to be a web cam. The UWF newcomer seems to be in her dressing room from the background. Her blond hair is in 2 pig tails coming off the sides of her head and her eyes twinkle with excitement.]

"Hey guys."

[She waves happily at the screen, smiling into the camera in the process and bouncing slightly.]

"Okay, so I called my brother Judd and asked him what I'm supposed to do now since I have the ladder match coming up later tonight...normally I'd call Rick about that sort of thing, but he's sorta full of himself lately what with all the hating everything about everyone else schtick he's got goin' on and all...so Judd it was.

Now..."

[She pauses, looking down at something offscreen (presumably some notes from the rustling paper noises).]

"..Apparently I'm supposed to take some time and make fun of my opponents, or alternately talk them up and say how
much respect I've got for 'em.

...

...

...

Well, the problem I keep running into is that I don't really feel the need to make fun of any of the ladies I'll be in there with.

I mean, Summer Blake's the champion, so clearly she's got something going on...Corvette is...ummm...named after a car? And Sylhoutte... yeah...she...sure spells her name funny...

...

...

See? It really doesn't work.

So I could go the other way and talk up respect for 'em...uhhh...that Miyuki Ozaki...she sure is...uhhhh...I'm sure she's an excellent fisherman.... person...And that Eveline Erikson...what an honor to be in the ring with someone who clearly knows a lot about Nordic culture...

Ya see? Doesn't exactly come off as sincere..."

[She frowns for a moment, then perks up, looking back down at her notes.]

"And it seems my other option is to set up some sort of 80's training montage so everyone can see how seriously I take the match...or arrange for you interview guys to interrupt me while I'm doin' something else.

Huh.

Well...too late for that (gotta read these BEFORE I go on camera next time).

The thing is I just don't get why everything has to be such a huge deal. I'm a wrestler...an athlete. I'm here to put on a show for the fans to watch, to do my best doing moves that they want to take pictures of and to walk out with the title if I'm really lucky and things fall my way. Not everything needs to be the end of the world. I don't think that I
need to try to invent slights and insults and glass ceilings to make me feel better about where I am in the sport.

All that's gonna happen is that I'm gonna go out there and I'm gonna show everyone what kind of athlete I can be.

They can make their own decision if I'm the type whose merchandise they want to buy, or whose autograph they want...

Although the creepy guy that sent me underwear in the mail last week? I'd really rather you voted for Sylhoutte, if you don't mind..."

[She looks down at her notes again, then smiles broadly.]

"'Cause...hey, she's French!"

[Fade.]

Seth: Dude, Cam Girls are totally hot.

Slush: Oh yeah?

Tinkle: MEEP!

Slush: I've never heard of "Cam-sters."

Tinkle: MEEP!

Seth: Man, you are a freak.

[The scene abruptly cuts to one of the many backstage dressing quarters on this night for the UWF's grapplers. Dressed ready for action - much the same way he was in his debut weeks prior - is the timid form of newcomer Bailey Fitzgerald. Elbows resting on his knees and his hands folded, Fitzgerald can only simply rest his head as he attempts to add some forethought toward his upcoming bout. His eyes half open and sweat prematurely glistening across his brow, Fitzgerald addresses his fan(s) with an apologetic tone.]

BF: Every town we visit and every arena we frequent, they give us this space so we're able to have a bit of privacy. Some have certainly earned more than others, while a few of the mainstays have reached Keith Richards status. You know, demandin' the lavish furnishings, the imported water and the M&Ms with the brown ones taken out.

[Bailey shakes his head at the outrageous thought.]

BF: But after the way I've performed thus far? The way I've spun my tires since the turn of the new year?

[He scoffs.]

BF: I'm surprised they didn't have me changing in the third stall of the men's room out by the loading dock.

[Once again shaking his head; this time in shame rather than disbelief.]

BF: It'd only be more amusing if it weren't true. If nothing else, I just hope it gives everyone an indication how I feel about my performance thus far. Because the restroom would be about the only proper place for my UWF career at this point.

[Fitzgerald can only offer a shrug.]

BF: But not for long.... then again, you saw that coming.

[He unfolds his hands now, running them from his hairline back, matting down his blond locks.]

BF: In theory, it probably makes sense to have a list a mile long on the weaknesses and shortcomings of my opponent tonight - Tracy Hudson. I don't. I can simply tell you I've seen the guy's rap sheet and to make a long story short, he's been susceptible to allowing outside influences to take control of both his professional life and his personal one. And to
that, I can unfortunately relate. But the difference I see? I'm not that person any longer. I don't wake up in the middle of the day anymore - wondering if I'd even wake up at all - and despise the face I saw looking back at me in the mirror. I've done a complete one-eighty and my life and the lives of those around me are better for it. I don't blow a week's wages on the material goods I once deemed as life essentials. I don't spend my day yearning for the chance to catch my next buzz. And I was smart enough to recognize what M-C Hammer and Michael Vick never could till it was too late for them... that there's nothing good about still kicking back with the same hangers-on and retreads you were running with ten years before.

[Fitzgerald stands, revealing his ring attire for the evening. A pair of purple wrestling tights with a fluorescent blue and green design cascading down the pants legs.]

BF: And the sooner YOU realize that, Tracy Hudson...

[Bailey shoots a nod south, referencing his attire.]

BF: ...The better.

[The scene returns to ringside.]


========================
DARK MATCH HIGHLIGHTS
========================
BAILEY FITZGERALD
versus "THE PRODIGY" TRACY HUDSON
========================

Both Fitzgerald and Hudson were in good form for the Philadelphia crowd. While not hardcore by any means, the technical aspects of the match were enough to make the fans happy. Both men came out aggressive with the tide turning multiple times. Hudson had a knack for finding the gaps in Fitzgerald's game but Bailey always found a way to bring things back to his favor. It came down to Hudson making a mistake which allowed Fitzgerald to execute the Buffalo Sleeper and take the pinfall victory.

WINNER BY PINFALL: Bailey Fitzgerald
========================


[Man's brain is surely the result of superior, divine engineering, more so a human male's brain. Women, no doubt admirable in every way, often need to recharge their brain's battery in a spa... which is exactly where we find ourselves. In truth, that's what truly sets the sexes apart.

Every once in a while, women feel the need to lounge on a massage table, their long, smooth, silky legs leading to a soft white linen that barely covers their complete nakedness.

Men, like William Houlder, need no such luxury to perform maintenance on their gray matter. The male brain is such an extraordinary organ that it forever keeps going, no need to stop and wind it up. The male brain is a perpetually thinking organic supercomputer. Which is why Houlder is preparing a powerpoint presentation on a lap top while, before him, two women lounge on massage chairs in simple white towels. The blond one, "Viking Vixen" Eveline Eriksen, stretches and turns and bbb....buh... bbebuh...

B...


...


BOOBIES!


!


Buh-boo-bboobies, almost completely spilling of tiny white towel... all... smooshy... and... b-boobies!

TITTAYZE!]

EE: Is the diaporama ready, Daddy?

WH: Ah-ah-almost, h-hunney!

[Boobs!]

WH: I j-just need to load the file...

[Eveline sits up and jerks her head, flipping her hair and jig...jig...jiggling her sweet, sweet, sweet chesticles, turning her head towards the-

GHHAAAAAAAAAAH!

WTF?? What the heck is on that woman's face? It looks like green fecal matter was evenly spread from one corner of her visage to the other!]

WH: There, it's ready, L-Leena.

EE: Took long enough. [She turns to the woman laid down next to her.] Get up, støgging. This presentation is for your benefit.

[The second woman stirs and rises... a very, very tall brunette, taller than Um from Umbridge. It's seven feet tall Lilly Fawne-Dorsey, and her face is smeared with... with... [BLEEP!]. Good God almighty, that face! She looks like The Thing, like a mud golem, a turd elemental sprung to life. She looks like Rock Biter!]

LFD: I can't feel my face, though.

EE: That means the mask is working, you idiot!

LFD: You're so kind to make me pretty like this, Eveline.

EE: Not pretty, dumming, you're much too ugly to ever be pretty. We're just crossing our fingers and hoping for "presentable." Now, shut up and watch the diaporama.

[The slide show begins and on the computer screen appears a picture of red headed Tesla St. James. Eriksen disdainfully comments.]

EE: _That_ is Ginger Slut.

LFD: She doesn't look very sl-

EE: SHHH!

[The picture changes, and on screen appears black haired Nina Grimsson.]

EE: _That_ is Filthy Swedish Midget.

WH: H-huh-hunney, Nina Grimsson isn't Swee-

EE: QUIET! This is a women only spa, Wallet.

[She glares at fidgeting William Houlder.]

WH: B-but...

EE: Only women are allowed.

WH: Oh.. err... You girls have fuh-fun relaxing, then...

[Houlder stumbles out as the laptop's screen suddenly shows the face of Summer Blake. The picture is rather unflattering. It's an "action shot" from a match, and Summer is grimacing in mid-move as she manhandles Donna Tetreault.]

EE: _That_ is Summer Blake. She's stupid. She slept with men for money, Lilley. That's what she did. And now, she's a champion. So you think that's right?

LFD: That doesn't sound like something a champion would do.

EE: The key is _not_ sleeping with the man, you see? If you sleep together, he won. He got what he wanted and he's no longer willing to give you presents unless you get married or something. If you _don't_ sleep with them but make them think you will, one day, the gifts never stop coming.

LFD: Oh. I didn't know that could work...

EE: Not for you, of course, you're too ugly. You'd have to do what Summer did. That whore thinks she's all that because she won the Angels and Amazon rumble that one time. I, on the other hand, broke the Angels and Amazons in-ring longevity record.

LFD: What does that mean?

EE: It means that Summer Blake got lucky while I am the best, of course. Besides, Summer Blake is ugly. Would you want _that_ as a champion, or this beautiful queen?

[The picture changes to one of Eveline. Oh, yeah... It's the January picture of her calendar. She's lounging on an iceberg, with thigh high white high heeled boots and a white monokini and... rhhaaaa... her bra is the Women's North American Championship belt... That calendar... so worth it... so worth it!]

LFD: You look pretty!

EE: Pretty? Don't insult me, støgging, I'm flawless!

LFD: And your hair is so nice!

EE: I know. Notice how the championship looks much better when I have it?

LFD: I guess...

EE: So your job is to make sure no one interferes between me punishing Summer Blake and taking the title.

[The picture changes to one taken at Gold Rush, an "action shot" of the Valkyrie crushing Blake with the "Viking Hammer."]

EE: And for that, you have to make sure these girls don't get in my way.

[The laptop now shows a clumsily made MS Paint collage of Corvette, Felicia Marley, Sylhouette and Miyuku Ozaki.]

LFD: But, aren't they in the match?

EE: Technically there are, dumming. But everyone knows this is between Summer Blake and I. These girls don't belong there, Lilley, they don't. It's your job as a bodyguard to make sure they become non-factors. That's what William is paying you for.

LFD: Oh! How.

EE: Hold them back and take them out if you have to!

LFD: OK.

EE: And if Ginger Slut or the Filthy Swedish Midget show up, you kick their asses.

LFD: You can count me! They won't get close to my friend!

EE: Sure. Now let's get rid of these algae masks and hit the gym.

LFD: Again?

EE: Yes, again. The gym is where perfect bodies like this one are made, dumming!

[Eveline shakes her head and gently reclines back into her massage table. Lilly the giantess looks around, shrugs, then does the same.]

EE: Get up, you idiot. You go get the massage therapist so she can get this dritt off my face! You tell them we're ready to leave.

LFD: Oh! OK.

[Lilly gets her giant legs off the table and, meekly slumped over, shuffles her way towards the door as we fade out on the Nordic Narcissist's fine, fine, _FINE_ set of legs!

Got to find that calendar again... should come in handy.

We cut back to the roomw here Seth is filming Slush... but we only see the carpet of the dressing room.]

Seth: DUDE!

Slush: What?

Seth: Quit that! It's disgusting!

Slush: Don't tell me you've never done this!

Seth: Not on camera. Not in front of strangers.

Slush: ...

Tinkle: ...

Seth: Okay, okay... there was this time in college... we were drunk...

[We fade into an image of a smiling Miyuki Ozaki with her hands joined together to form the shape of a heart as the following text appears below the picture:

"February 24, 2010"

And with that, fade in...


"Asian Girls do it Better! <3"


No, we're not trying to be offensive...those are the words on the front of the t-shirt we're looking at. The shot pulls back to reveal the wearer of said t-shirt, the currently non-heart shape-making, bleach-blonde Japanese beauty, Miyuki Ozaki in her hotel suite, busily tapping away on her diamond encrusted pink Blackberry. For whatever reason, her hair is curled up in rollers...which upon further inspection, are empty soda cans(!?). Rocking that "white trash chic" look, Miyuki looks pretty
pleased with herself. We also notice that her five girl entourage is around, but they're not really doing anything in particular. Just then, her phone goes off...]

Miyuki: Ah! It's Allison-chan!

[The ringtone? "Bad Romance". The ironing is delicious(The correct term is irony!).]

Miyuki: Moshi moshi?

[As Miyuki listens to whatever's being said to her, an ecstatic look quickly forms on her face.]

Miyuki: For seriously!?

[Her jaw drops.]

Miyuki: *Gasp*!

[She then drops her several thousand dollars phone and proceeds to scream excitedly like a crazed sorority girl.]

Miyuki: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

[She grabs one of her random minions and embraces her in a king-sized hug, shaking the poor girl around like a ragdoll.]

Miyuki: Ohmygosh! Ohmygosh! Ohmygosh!

[Tossing the girl aside with shocking ease into the couch, Miyuki makes the following subtitled proclamation...]

Miyuki: (Ladies! Tomorrow...)

[Miyuki pauses, as an ominous smirk appears on her lips.]

Miyuki: (...we spar!)

[A collective gasp can be heard from Miyuki's entourage. Meanwhile, Miyuki pumps a fist into the air, exclaiming to no one in particular...]

Miyuki: (Finally, Miyuki-chan can begin her master plan!)

[Miyuki quickly skips out of the room, leaving behind the rest of her entourage in semi-shock. We cut to a shot of the previously seen Ayako...and some other girl. Luckily for us, they're all wearing "HELLO, my name is _____" nametags for easy reference.]

Ayako: (Sparing? Oh crap.)

[She turns to a short-haired girl sitting next to her..."Michiko". Nice to meet you, Michiko!]

Michiko: (I don't understand why this is such a horrible thing. It beats the hell out of reenacting scenes from Lady Gaga music videos or constantly editing her Wikipedia page.)

Ayako: (There's only one reason why she would ever start training seriously, Michiko.)

[Dramatic pause as the camera does an extreme close-up to Ayako's face.]

Ayako: (Those idiots gave her a title match!)

["Dun dun DUUUUUN." No...literally, that just played.]

Michiko: (And why is that a bad thing?)

Ayako: (You've seen her wrestle, right? You see how she absolutely smacks the living crap out everyone? Tomorrow? That's going to be _us!_)

Michiko: Eep!

[Suddenly, Michiko makes a pretty astute observation.]

Michiko: (Wait...she has a masterplan?!?!?)

[Fade out...

"The next day"

Fade in...

We open to a shot inside a wrestling ring at some unrecognizable training facility. Inside the ring, we see Miyuki polishing off a 5 Hour Energy. She's dressed in what's best described as a pink one-piece swimsuit with the words "BATTLE*DREAM" written across the chest in white stencil. Tossing the empty bottle over her shoulder, Miyuki points a perfectly manicure finger off-camera.]

Miyuki: (Okay! So...who's first?)

[Cut to a shot of the girls, huddled together, looking like they're ready for PE class in white tshirts and bloomer-style shorts. None of them look particularly eager to confront Miyuki in the ring of battle. We zoom in on Michiko and Ayako whispering to each other...]

Michiko: (What's with the swimsuit?)

Ayako: (That's her rookie wrestling outfit. I think she's trying to hold onto her misspent youth or something.)

Michiko: (It doesn't even look like it fits her anymore. It's actually pretty obscene.)

Ayako: (Remember who we're talking about, here.)

Michiko: (Good point.)

[Cut back to Miyuki with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face.]

Miyuki: (Okay, if none of you are willing to volunteer, then I'm going to choose one of you, myself. Yumi! Prepare to be assaulted in a non-sexual manner!)

[All the girls shove a ponytailed red-haired girl towards Miyuki. As Miyuki cracks her knuckles and approaches her, we zoom in one Yumi's horrified face.]

Yumi: Eep!

[Fade out...

"A few days later"

Fade in...

Miyuki is seated on the top turnbuckle hunched over with her chin propped up in her hands and her legs dangling. She looks down sadly at the canvas, where we see her cronies in various states of pain.]

Miyuki: (Oh come on, is that all you've got? I thought all of you wanted to be wrestlers someday! You think you can make it with this kind of effort?)

[No answer from the pile of scattered bodies.]

Miyuki: *Sigh* (Did I overestimate your potential, guys? If I don't win that title because you're slacking off, I'm going to be very angry with you!)

[Still no answer. Oh wait...nevermind...that was just a moan of pain. Miyuki drops her head in disappointment.]

Miyuki: Does Miyuki-chan have to choke a bitch!?

[Fade out...

"A few weeks later"

Fade in...


*THUD!*


Michiko hits the canvas on her back as we see Miyuki attacking the girls with relish in the background. Seconds later, we hear another *THUD!* as Ayako joins her on the mat.]

Michiko: (She...she's just too strong! She's got the strength of at least one-quarter of a Samoan!)

[The two remain lying there, completely worn out, trying to catch their breaths. After awhile, Ayako begins to speak.]

Ayako: (Hey Michiko...you know how she said she had a master plan?)

Michiko: (Yeah.)

[A pause as Ayako tries to catch her breath.]

Ayako: (I...found out what it is.)

Michiko: (Did you?)

Ayako: (Do you realize how many titles women have technically held in this place?)

Michiko: (No idea.)

Ayako: (Eight.)

Michiko: (So this organization has some sort of title belt fetish...I don't get it.)

Ayako: (It's not so hard to figure out, Michiko. Do you think she's just going to stop at this title if she wins it? With a girl like Miyuki-chan...how many titles do you think she _wants?_)

[And at that moment, the horrific realization that Miyuki plans to hold every title possible at the same time dawns on Michiko.]

Michiko: (Holy tits!)

[Just then, an empty Five Hour energy bottle rolls harmlessly into view. A large shadow is cast over the girls as a gorgeous pair of gams steps into view and an absolutely horrified look forms on the girls' faces. We don't see who it is, but that voice is instantly recognizable...even if it's in Japanese.]

("Hey! Did I say you two could rest!? No slacking!")

Michiko and Ayako: Eep!

[Fade out.]

Slush: That's a phrase I've used a lot in my time.

Seth: What's that?

Slush: "Prepare to be assaulted in a non-sexual manner!"

Seth: Liar.

Tinkle: MEEP!

Slush: Don't judge me Seth. I'm not paying you to judge me.

Seth: You're paying me?

Slush: You're earning a wealth of experience. What more could you want?

Seth: Oh, I don't know... money?

[Cut to backstage where we find UWF backstage reporter with the UWF Women's champion, "The All Around Athlete" Laura Davis. Laura is already dressed in her wrestling attire and the UWF Women's title is around her waist.]

MO: Laura, tonight you face Holly Hotbody in a unification match... her MBC Women's title is on the line, as is your UWF Women's title. What are your thoughts about the chance to unify two of the top women's title in
wrestling today?

[Laura rolls her eyes at Moe's question.]

LD: Two of the top women's titles, Owens? The title in my possession is _the_ top women's title, period. Every other belt is secondary to the one I have.

MO: Are you just dismissing the legacy the MBC Women's title has?

LD: Owens, at one time, the women's title there was nothing but a cheap piece of exercise equipment. The title I wear is a _real_ women's title... and has that much more credibility now that I possess it.

MO: But still, this must be a big opportunity to unify that title with the MBC women's...

LD: [interrupting] I don't see this as being a unification... I see it as eliminating a title that's good, but not good enough, to match up with the top women's belt today. Especially when you look at the woman holding that other title.

MO: You mean Holly Hotbody, the self-proclaimed queen of the MBC...

LD: [wrinkling her nose] If you mean beauty queen, Owens, she's far from being self-proclaimed. And somehow, she worked her way to the top belt in that company? I wonder where all the real wrestlers were, Owens.

[She holds up her hand.]

LD: Oh, wait... I know where the real wrestlers are... or should I say, real wrestler.

[She hooks a thumb to herself.]

LD: Right here... in the form of me.

Holly Hotbody, your looks department isn't going to be anywhere close enough to matching my superior talents and abilities. I'll prove tonight, once again, who is indeed the top women's wrestler in the world today.

The belt I wear proves it... and after tonight's match, this belt will still be with me, and I will still be the best in the business.

[She walks off as the shot fades out.]

Slush: Nikki... I'm still waiting for you to call.

Seth: Does she even have your number?

Slush: Don't bring logic into this.

Seth: Do you even have a cell phone?

Slush: Don't bring reality into this.

[Fade in.]

[The scene opens at The Throne Room, the secret domain of MBC Women’s World Champion and so-called queen Holly Hotbody. We find the busty temptress pacing back and forth in a less than pleased mood, judging from the scowl on her face. She’s clad in a black, string bikini and platform heels, a tiara perched atop her head. She's mumbling to herself.]

Holly: I can’t believe they’re making me fight this Laura Davis person tonight...like there’s any sort of confusion over what woman is truly running things around here.

[She snorts in outrage.]

Holly: Like hel-Lo!

[She points to her tiara.]

Holly: I’m the one wearing the crown!

[She rolls her eyes and stops, folding her arms across her chest as she faces the camera.]

Holly: [sighs] I shouldn’t have to prove myself or my reign. I think it more than speaks for itself. I mean, I have worked so hard...diligently even...to ensure that the MBC women’s title had some class, respect, and dignity again.

[With that, she adjusts her bikini straps.]

Holly: And how do I get repaid? They force me to defend my title against some butch UWF scallywag! I mean, I’ve never even met or heard of this woman before. Yet, they think she’s equal enough to face me in some unification type deal?

[She shakes her head and scoffs.]

Holly: I don’t buy it or believe it! This is all Lee’s doing. He’s had it in for me ever since I hooked up with the Hand of Doom and this is his latest scheme to make my life a living Hell. First, he keeps my no-name no-talent cousin signed to a contract, despite her not being able to draw flies. Now, he’s forcing me to face Laura Davis whose secret weapon, as far as I can tell, is an ability to bore people to death.

I’ve seen the footage. She’s all mean mugs and millions of wrestling moves.

[She waves her hand and rolls her eyes again.]

Holly: Maybe that was something back in the day. You know, when women wrestlers were ugly and acted like men. But this is a new day and a new breed, honey. Today’s women wrestlers are hot, sexy, and beautiful.

[She rubs her hands slowly along her sleek body, as if emphasizing each adjective.]

Holly: We know what a crowd wants and we give it to them. Women like you are like dinosaurs. Or plaid. You’re outdated and out of style.

Sure, you might draw the odd gasp when you break out your little spinning backdrop super kick or whatever new move you’ve got cooked up. But at the end of the day, all the boys remember is the hot chick with the double Ds and sexy wiggle. That’s why I know that you and all of your so-called expertise don’t stand a chance tonight or any other night.

Because hot trumps all.

[She folds her arms across her chest.]

Holly: Just look at our society. Our singers? Hot. Movie stars? Hot. Hell, even our president is hot. Sure, people like to act like none of that matters, but reality speaks for itself. When’s the last time you saw an ugly person on a runway? Or some homely spinster on a billboard? Never! Because as much as people like to think they’re so not shallow and all about what’s underneath, beauty is still the ideal. Just look at yourself, Laura. How many parking tickets have you ever managed to talk _yourself_ out of in your lifetime? How many free drinks have magically made it your way?

[She smirks.]

Holly: Yeah, like I thought. And tonight will be no different. Because just like in every movie and fairy tale, the pretty queen always ends up with a man, castle, and killer gown. While her plain Jane witch rival? Usually ends up impaled on a sword or something. Face it, beast. Beauty? Always wins.

[Fade.]

Seth: now Holly, I'd like to break me off a piece of that.

Slush: Watch your mouth! Do not sully the name of Saint Holly of the Blessed Hotbody!

Seth: Dude! She is so much hotter than Nikki the Cat.

Tinkle: MEEP!

Slush: What do you mean by "cleaner"?

Seth: Oh burn! The hamster totally got you.


========================
DARK MATCH HIGHLIGHTS
========================
"THE BIG NASTY BASTARD" MIKE REZNOR
versus AMISH SHAFT
========================

Amish Shaft had a certain amount of cult popularity that few other wrestlers could claim, not that he knew what to do with it. Mike Reznor couldn't care less so when the Big Nasty Bastard came to the ring, he beat Amish Shaft to a pulp. Sure, Amish Shaft got some good licks in but Reznor shook them all off and finished his opponent off with a nasty looking powerbomb. The three count was easy.

WINNER BY PINFALL: Mike Reznor
========================


Slush: So I asked myself, is Def Leppard made with bits of real leopard?

Seth: Dude, what the Hell is wrong with you? And why do you keep taking off your pants?

Slush: Why should I keep them on?

Seth: And you know, for that matter... how are you getting the production guys to play the wrestler's clips?

Slush: Oh those guys get bored. So I bribe them with naked pictures of the MBC women.

Seth: Oh yeah? Who?

Slush: I'll tell you...

[Suddenly the door busts in and in come a group of wrestlers. They surround Slush and start to beat him mercilessly.]

Slush: AVENGE ME SETH! AVENGE ME!

[Walking through the door are UWF Commissioner Allison Chambers and MBC Commissioner Becky-Carlisle-Skullhead.]

AC: I knew we'd find him.

BCS: You! Camera guy!

Seth: Oh [MEEP] me!

[The camera drops and thanks to the production team, we're back in Kyle Lee's nomadic and inordinately crowded office. Wherever the camera pans, there stands a black Guard wearing mask, plastron and shin pads, a nightstick at his belt. Four of them, however, hold prestigious title belts; the two UWF North American titles, the Smash Bash Crucify Championship and, of course, the MBC World's Heavyweight Championship.

Frowning at his desk is the owner of both the UWF and the MBC, the “Doomsayer” Kyle Lee. Opposite him are Oz Rivera, Gamma Ray and their sweating, smiling manager, the portly James Tunney.]

KL: Well, on the bright side it looks like you have not damaged the title belts.

GR: Of course we haven't. You pay the Guard to protect them.

JT: The North American Title did look good around your waist, though...almost like it had gone home.

GR: Really? It felt like a corset...

JT: No no...the OTHER belt...

GR: Oh! Did it? I suppose it did. The [BLEEP]ing stench of denture cream, prune juice and talcum powder can always be industrially steamed off if need be. No one can say Whitecross did not leave his mark on that title...

KL: Am I interrupting you?

JT: Sadly. You're here, we're here, the championship belts are here... we have all the time in the world.

KL: I'd rather get this over with as soon as possible.

GR: I take it you are ready to dismantle that glass ceiling of yours, then?

KL: There is no gluh-

JT: WHY MUST YOU MAKE THIS A HOUSE OF LIES? I've had to fight it on a monthly basis, don't tell me there's no glass ceiling!

GR: Be forthright and truthful, for once, Lee.

KL: Hey! I insisted Oz be in tonight's main event. Now you tell me, is that burying the new talents or giving them a stage to showcase their skills?

JT: It's a good first step, but you need to do better.

GR: Don't think it's the kind of gesture that gets four championship titles back into your unworthy hands, though.

KL: So let's get down to the nitty gritty, then.

JT: Alright, lets! Now that you've seen the light and vacated the World Heavyweight Championship, we can get the ball rolling in the right direction.

GR: Vacating the title is the sole sensible solution, after all.

[Lee leans back on his chair and audibly groans.]

KL: I am _not_ vacating the UWF World Heavyweight Championship, get it through your thick skulls!

JT: Come again? I'm sorry, but I thought you said you WEREN'T going to vacate the Heavyweight Title...oh no...

[Tunney is shocked by this answer. In consternation, he turns to Gamma Ray.]

JT: You were right, Gamma Ray. You were right.

GR [with feigned sadness]: I know.

KL: What are you talking about?

GR: There's only one reason behind your refusal to vacate the title, Lee. A motive of the vilest kind.

[Lee rolls his eyes.]

GR: You masterminded the whole nefarious plot.

KL: Oh, come on!

GR: You did! It's the only explanation! Trey DaMann had the means and the luck needed to pull it off, but he never has been clever enough to come up with such an elaborate deception. He's opulent and vain, but he's just a simpleton; always has been, always will be. He doesn't have the brains to mastermind such a contrived subterfuge, Lee... but _you_ do.

KL: Is that a backhanded compliment or something?

GR: I imagine you'd think so. But the entire plan has your signature on it, your personal watermark.

KL: If you're going to throw around baseless ac-

GR: Who has a habit of faking illnesses to further his goals and trick the unsuspecting sheep into feeling sympathetic pity for him? You do, Prophet. You do.

KL: That was just one-

JT: NO MORE OF YOUR LIES!

GR: And the only reason you'd let an unsigned talent keep a championship title is because that wrestler is, in fact, only your figurehead, your puppet.

JT: I had my reservations about these conclusions, at first. But given the circumstances...

GR: You know what they say, the simplest explanation is the right explanation.

KL: Look, Jessi-

GR: The Marshall wench? Please! You loathe that woman so much, it's obvious you acted through her so you could set her up as your scapegoat.

KL: Really? That's the best you came up with?

GR: There's a kind of genius about your plan that could inspire wonderment if it wasn't secreting such evilness.

KL: Out of morbid curiosity, what would my motive be? Pure megalomania?

GR: Amongst other things. But obviously, your main goal is to remove the UWF World Heavyweight title from circulation, thereby making the MBC World Heavyweight Championship the top prize in the sport by default.

[Lee groans in frustration, then looks at his watch.]

KL: I'm not even going to dignify that asinine accusation with a response. Just... tell me what it'll take to get the belts back.

JT: Four blank match contracts seems like a reasonable demand.

GR: I concur.

KL: No. Forget blank match contracts, that's out of the question. It's never going to happen. I'd rather you keep the belts than give anyone a blank match contract.

JT: Alright. How about four title shots, one per stolen...er...PROTECTED belt.

GR: That's a generous offer, Lee.

KL: No. Not happening.

GR: You're being needlessly intractable. I'd get up and beat some cooperation into your obstinate ass, but my friend James strongly advises against that course of action.

JT: You can whoop his ass _after_ we get the title shots, though.

[Lee glimpses at his watch again, then rises out of his chair, his temper rising.]

KL: Look. There's one critical mistake you guys are making. You are severely overestimating the value of the belts you have.

GR: Is the [BLEEP]ing MBC World Heavyweight Championship not the ultimate prize in your eyes?

KL: It is. But it's not because the belt is in that guy's hands over there that it makes him the champion. As painful as it is to say, John Vengeance is the champion, and he bears that title whether he physically holds the title in his hands or not.

JT: Sure, but-

KL: The belt itself... heck. I can have them replaced if I want to. It would be a non-negligible added expense, but it also makes the bargaining chip you think you have a lot less valuable.

[Gamma Ray raises a mask-covered eyebrow.]

KL: Here's how this is going to go. In front of me, I have next week's card. Do you know what match is penciled in?

GR: Enlighten us.

KL: Gamma Ray versus Gabriel Whitecross for that North American Title you see shining right over there.

GR: The one stained with a miasma of moth balls, cedar and impending death?

KL: If you don't hand over the four title belts, I'll grab my eraser, wipe off Gamma Ray's name from the card and replace it with... Vinnie Vasquez... or Tommy Elliot's.

GR: You wouldn't!

KL: It's not too late... hand over the belts and that title match is still on.

JT: You're not thinking about the rest of the Guard, Lee. There are other great talents to consider... shining paragons of wrestling ability currently toiling in obscurity!

KL: I'd give them something if I knew who they are.

JT: Standing right before you is Oz Rivera.

KL: Any requests, then? And keep in mind... your bargaining chip isn't worth all that much.

JT: Hmm. Oz Rivera's path to stardom is woefully blocked by that drunken clod Vinnie Vasquez. On the off chance that Vasquez doesn't learn his lesson tonight, if he's foolish enough to come back and ask for even more, the rematch should have a blind stipulation.

KL: Is that all?

JT: And when it's time to find title challengers, make sure you remember Oz Rivera's name as well.

KL: Alright. [Lee eyes his watch.] A North American Championship title match and a blind stip match for the four belts.

JT: It'll do.

GR: Not quite. I don't want Whitecross to weasel out and disqualify himself. Next week, make it a no holds barred, no disqualifications match, Lee. Then you'd have a deal.

KL: Sure, whatever. You could have a wordy debate with Whitecross for all I care. [He looks at his watch.] Next week it'll be Gabriel Whitecross against Gamma Ray for the North American Title in no disqualifications match.

GR: Ok, deal.

KL: The belts, please?

[Gamma Ray nods, waves his hand, and the masked men step forth to lay the four championship belts on Kyle Lee's desk.]

JT: It seems today's business has been concluded. Meanwhile, we have a bunkhouse brawl to prepare for, correct?

[Rivera nods and, accompanied by Gamma Ray, the Guard and James Tunney, the group vacates the premises leaving Lee alone at his desk. The UWF-MBC owner takes the Women's North American Championship in hand and peers at his watch again.]

KL: Yeah, I think I can give this back to Summer in time...

[Fade out as we begin the countdown to Rampage Bloody Rampage...


Three...







Two...







One...



RAMPAGE!]



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