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HUGE Chatterbox 11/04/2010.; Happy birthday to me, here's your gift.
Topic Started: Nov 3 2010, 11:31 PM (285 Views)
Mozeart
Member Avatar
Sheik-ee, Sheik-ee, give me your answer do...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
[“Loser” by Beck plays softly as we fade in on the fitted stone interior of the Hellfire Bar & Grill. DJ Har-V, AKA Harvey Jenkins, stands in the Dungeon, medieval-styled architecture surrounding him. Beside him in HUGE's "Dungeon" is a door whose sign reads “Dressing Room”.
Hands outstretched towards the camera in a gesture intended to draw the viewers towards the screen, Harvey lets fly with his trademark and obnoxious verbiage.]

DJHV: All-right people, HUGE is back and better than ever! Welcome to the Chatterbox, where the people that bring the nasty to the mat speak their nasty to your ears. This is the last HUGEwrestling.com exclusive episode, people, so enjoy this last thrilling dose of net-only love before Chatterbox comes to the television screen for love from the entire SSN family.
This upcoming Tuesday, 8pm, on SSN2, HUGELive~! will be in business! That's right, we got a TV deal! Then, a week later, Chatterbox will be on at 8, HUGELive~! at 8:30, followed by "Aftermath", a special reaction show at 9:30! That's 2 whole hours of hype, violence and that special kind of crazy you can only get in the Crotch of America's heartland! Can you dig that, cats and kittens?

[Grabbing a chair, Harvey spins it on it's leg, then sits informally (chair's backwards) facing the camera.]

DJHV: As some of you might know, HUGE had a rough twelve months straddlin' 2009 and 2010. Barney went AWOL, the Hellfire was closed by the Health Department and PVW, which HUGE was feeder for, folded, leaving the Corporation, Strickland Sports, about to pull the plug. We rallied though, and HUGE won additional funding, effectively taking PVW's place and transforming our organization into a factory for badass new talent.
One guy didn't really get the memo though. Here, check it out.

[A quick, signature HUGE rough cut, the name of the wrestler and then footage.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
Antonio Morientes
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[Scene opens to Barney Johnson at the bar, going over some paperwork.]

BJ: We have a human trafficking budget?! Wh-why?! WHY?!!

Voice: Excuse me.

[Barney looks up to see Antonio Morientes, dressed in a red Spanish national team jersey with the one star above the crest (World Cup Champions wooo) and blue jeans and white tennis shoes. Morientes has a somber expression on his face.]

BJ: Tony! What's up?

AM: Mister Johnson, I want you to know that I appreciate the opportunities you have given me here. I really have enjoyed the experiences in my time here.

BJ: A lot of past tense in your talk, Tony!

AM: Well, Mr. Johnson.. I have gotten a really lucrative offer to go back and fight in Europe.

BJ: Oh no!

AM: The money could change alot of things in not just my life but that of mi familia. And also...

[Morientes looks a little uncomfortable.]

AM: It doesn't have a sinister name like "Hellfire" and my parents won't be so ashamed to talk about where I work.

[Barney looks to be in disbelief.]

BJ: You've been here for some time. I mean, yeah, there's been a lot of downtime what with PVW closing and SSN threatening to pull funding, but ... I mean, it's named after the barbeque sauce man.

AM: Again, I appreciate everything you've done for me Mr. Johnson but I feel this move will be what is best for me personally, financially and spiritually.

[Barney looks dumbfounded now! But then something catches his eyes and a lightbulb seems to turn on above his head.]

BJ: I respect your convictions. It's just too bad that you're taking off now. I mean, there's a recent acquisition the corporation sent us that I thought you'd wanna meet. Oh, hey, there he is. Here he comes, even!

[Antonio turns around and his jaw drops to the ground and his eyes become as wide as saucers.]

AM: .....

Voice: Hola!

[Walking up to Morientes and Barney is the first ever NEO Pacific Champion, the former General Manager of FFN Pro, a new trainer for FORGE and also a Spaniard, Antonio's pro wrestling idol: Amuro Balsa!]

AB: Como estas, Señor Johnson?

BJ: Good, Amuro! Very good!

AB: That is good to hear, patrón!

[Amuro looks at Antonio, who is frozen in shock.]

AB: Is he alright?

BJ: Oh, Amuro I'd like you to meet Antonio Morientes from Madrid!

[Amuro's face lights up.]

AB: Ah! Estamos Madridstas!

[Amuro EMBRACES Morientes who's face is a mix of the most extreme shock and the biggest of joys! Barney decides this is the moment to turn the screws.]

BJ: Tony was just leaving actually.

[Panic now on Morientes' face.]

BJ: He is leaving us to go back to Europe.

[Amuro nods his head sadly.]

AB: Que lastima! It would be nice to have a fellow Madridsta around.

AM: Ah.. I... Ah....

[Morientes turns to Johnson in a panic.]

AM: I.. Ah....

BJ: Goodbye?

AM: No! N-no! I was.. I just wanted you to know that I thought about their offer..

BJ: Yes?

AM: And I have decided to tell them No!

[Victory all over Barney's face.]

BJ: Oh! So you'll be staying here after all?

[Morientes nods his head rapidly.]

AM: Si! Si!

[Amuro opens his arms.]

AB: That's great! FANTASTICO!

[Amuro embraces Morientes again. Antonio embraces him back.]

AB: Señor Johnson, con permiso, I have to go talk with Antonio here! We have to talk about our country, La Copa, the food, everything!

[Barney nods happily.]

BJ: That sounds great! Spend as much time with Morientes as you want!

[Amuro and an almost teary eyed Morientes walk off and Barney nods his head.]

BJ: That was a close one!

[He looks back at his paper work.]

BJ: Have we actually trafficked in people?!

[Scene fades.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Sitting next to HUGE's former kitchen, now concession area, Harvey hurriedly downs the back end of a hotdog before speaking again.]

DJHV: See, that's the problem with Morientes. I mean, good guy, right, in that he makes you feel bad that you're not as nice as him, but he's ready to walk 'cause he thinks HUGE is evil or somethin'? C'mon man, I've seen what you eat. You've had that sauce, man. Anyway, Morientes is facing off against his biggest challenge to date in HUGE when he takes on the biggest man in HUGE! That guy they call "Cape Buffalo" is like two sides of beef tied together with steel cables, man. Kobus de Vries outweighs Morientes by more than 150 pounds so hey, Tony, good luck man.
Now that Amuro guy? You might recognize him, but not from recently. He's a retired has-been who's helping our very own Jack Britain with the FORGE; Strickland Sports' very own wrestling school. You'll see more of him and the other trainers in the upcoming weeks as we introduce you to the program leading up to the debut of FORGE on the SHoT network.
Anyway, it's about time to hear from Morientes' opponent, dig? He's one of the strongest men on the planet and he just recently graduated from the FORGE wrestling academy himself. He's the other half of match one in the HUGE Heavyweight Title Tournament. Here's a little bit of somethin' Kobus.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
"The Cape Buffalo" Kobus de Vries
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[Black screen.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Back to Harvey who hasn't moved and looks very confused.]

DJHV: What? Really? Nothing!? Well hell, can we edit that last bit out? No? Dammit, this whole thing worked better as a two-man operation with one damned show!

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[As those in the journalism/media field might shout at this point, "HACK!"]

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
Preston Mayfield
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[Everyone, it is time to get reaquainted with Preston Mayfield. The Mayfield is sitting on his throne (really a toilet) in his office (really a stall). Mayfield is dressed in a grassskirt (traditional stylez) a goat's skull for a hat, a bandit mask, holding a giant black rubber phallus, what looks to be a wooden leg in his hands. Mayfield has on leather dress shoes, sock garters, a baby doll t-shirt that says PRESTON in glitter letters and some large black dude standing next to him. That dude is wearing a business suit.]

Preston: The time has come to get the *BLEEP* back on!

Black dude: KIJE!

Preston: I know your name is Kije! *BLEEP* you and your nubian momma! Kije is here in HUGE because a) he paid enough to get out of Slave Diamond Mine #7634 in some part of the home of sweet, syrupy black pussy aka Africa. B) because he is friends with me and Barney and C) BECAUSE THE GOAT GOD V"JLKHER DEMANDS IT!

Kije: I don't think you should have eaten that many mushrooms...

Preston: Bring me the sa*BLEEP*fice! Imma gonna wreck dat ass so hard they'll be *BLEEP*in' pancakes!

Kije: Uh...

Preston: HUGE is back and I get to rail on ring rats and *BLEEP* in Barney's coffee! Someone shock my nubs!

[Mayfield gets up and... starts doing a wardance or something. It's weird. Kije has a smile on his face but this is an uncomfortable smile.]

Kije: Preston, friend, are you sure Barney will be glad to see me? After all, I was his slave overseer.

[Preston continues to dance, which is mainly him humping air.]

Preston: RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAWR! God damn, shooting up makes me so damned hooooooooooooorny! Where's that skank Cindy or that one Japanese dude from that resturant that fat ass eats at? Hell, I'd even *BLEEP* my wife Jenna.

[Wait, what?]

Preston: Get'cha swang on, bitches. I gotta wrestle or something. I'mma slap'em in the junk with the KING DONG~~~~~! SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP MOTHER*BLEEP*ER~ Take da DONG in yo' eye! Mutha f*BLEEP*kkkkkkkin eye, like you like it. All red eyed and crying while I plow ya! *snorts something* WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOA *BLEEP* BARNEY KIJE! He loves you! He wants to make love to you, but that doesn't make him gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

[Yeah, no hope at all for a real answer. Preston starts moving towards Kije, prompting the former slave overseer to exit along with the camera man.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Harvey looks stunned.]

DJHV: Okay, what's the deal with cutting away before I do the intro? Stupid live editing *BLEEP*? Seriously!

[Pause, breathe.]

DJHV: Uh, folks, I'm pretty sure the censors got all the cuss words there but if I'm wrong, well, don't blame me, blame the guy with his finger on the magic beeping button.
The guy you saw in that bit with Preston is Kije, uh, last name unknown or something. He's a student at the FORGE wrestling academy and will be featured on the FORGE TV program coming soon on the SHoT network. I knew that. I had no idea that Preston imported him and I sure as *BLEEP* didn't know he was the guy who kidnapped Barney a year ago when Barn was being a talent scout for SSN.
So I guess that explains the "human trafficking budget" Barney was talking about earlier, huh? Sheesh...

[Shaking his head, Harvey eats the last bite of a steak and pushes away from the table.]

DJHV: If you haven't noticed, or, y'know, didn't know HUGE existed until today, we've got a real influx of talent coming into HUGE. This is mainly because the Strickland Sports Corporation, which bought HUGE like two years ago, dropped PVW because of some lawsuit or *BLEEP*, I dunno. PVW was traded on the stock market, Strickland bought a bunch of stock, yadda yadda, who cares? Anyway, the guys they'd be getting we're getting instead, so y'know, here's another one. He goes by *ahem* ... "Rocket Man".

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
The Rocket Man
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[The scene opens outside the Hellfire Bar & Grill where three boys no more than 14 are standing in an alleyway just outside the building.]

Boy 1: Give it here!

Boy 2: No way!

Boy 3: C’mon I want some too.

[A large booming voice comes from off camera.]

RRRRRRROOOOOCCCCCCKKKKKEEEEEEEETTTTTTTT MMMMAAAAAANNNN!!!!!

[With a loud swoop or thud or graceful jump a man “flies” onto the screen. He is dressed in a crimson and white vertical striped bodysuit with black boots and a crimson cape. He wears a crimson mask with a white face. He stands there triumphantly with his fists on his hips.]

RM: Citizen Children do not distress, for I, Rocket Man, am here to save you from the dastardly clutches of drug dependency!

[Rocket Man raises a triumphant fist in the air.]

Boy 1: Huh? Who?

Boy 3: Its probably one of those dopey wrestlers that work in this dump.

RM: That’s right Citizens, Rocket Man, is here; back from his intergalactic travels across the galaxy to save the day once again on Planet Earth! The battle will be hard, the road will be long; but there is no bridge Rocket Man won’t cross, no mountain Rocket Man won’t scale in order to save the day...

[Rocket Man drifts off as he looks towards the sky... heroically.]

RM: Know this Citizens; drugs are never the answer, especially at your young age! Now hand that evil over to Rocket Man and stop letting it corrupt your youthful minds!

[Rocket Man dramatically extends his open hand towards the group of boys.]

Boy 1: What?

Boy 3: Dude they’re Skittles.

[Rocket Man takes a dramatic step back..]

RM: Great Heavens and all that is holy. The corruptors and evil doers first push their toxins on such innocent children and then they market it as a delicious fruit candy, is nothing sacred!

Boy 2: No, they really are Skittles.

RM: Fear not Citizen Children, this epidemic is more serious than even Rocket Man knew, but together with the forces of what’s good and pure we will conquer these demons and stand triumphant in the end.

[Rocket Man slams his fist down into his open hands.]

Boy 3: No they really are Skittles.

Boy 2: Just look at the bag.

[Rocket Man inspects the bag the boy holds up for a very long, LONG time. Finally he nods his head and stands back upright.]

RM: Alright Citizens, you have convinced Rocket Man that this was merely a false alarm, but when it comes to the War on Drugs know that Rocket Man is an active solider in the army of good! Saying no to drugs, is saying yes to Rocket Man!

Boy 1: I still don’t really understand what’s going on.

RM: I can see that you Citizens are on the straight and narrow, fine young children on your way to becoming little Rocket Boys...

[Rocket Man stops and looks down at the third child.]

RM: ...and Rocket Girls, I’m sorry there little one.

Boy 3: I’m a boy.

RM: Yes Rocket Man will soon stand victorious in the fight against evil and all his little Rockers... and Rockettes...

[Rocket Man shoots the third boy the wink and the gun.]

Boy 3: I’m a boy.

RM: ...will be able to bask in all that is good, knowing that Rocket Man has saved the day again!

Boy 3: I’M A BOY!!!

[Rocket Man stops for a moment and looks down at the third boy now red faced from yelling. Rocket Man scratches the top of his mask for a minute.]

RM: Rocky Man has fought and triumphed over many the adversaries: Star Man, intergalactic terrorist of fear and hate; The Boo Goo Tribe from Intergalactic Sector 2743697; the continued success of Two and a Half Men; the Hollywood Hit Squad; and countless others. But never has Rocket Man encountered the foe known as gender confusion. Fear not Citizens, Rocket Man will fight this injustice too.

[Rocket Man takes a deep breath in, as in to puff out his chest... heroically.]

Boy 3: I’M A... You know what? Forget this!

[With that the third boy walks disgusted off camera.]

RM: And just like Rocket Man has battled all the injustice in the world and as he soon will battle gender confusion, Rocket Man has set his sights on HUGE, to do battle with some of the more vile and corrupt characters that Rocket Man has ever heard of. And when Rocket Man gets his hands on all the evil doers and villains its gonna be BAM! ZOOM! STRAIGHT TO THE MOON!!!

[Rocket Man nods as he places his fists against his hips once again.]

RM: And now Citizen Children I must take my leave! But know that Rocket Man is always on the job, fighting for what’s right and what’s fair. Crime and evil may have many names; but all those names will fear the wrath of...

RRRRRRROOOOOCCCCCCKKKKKEEEEEEEETTTTTTTT MMMMAAAAAANNNN!!!!!

[With a loud swoop or thud or graceful jump Rocket Man “flies” off the screen.]

Boy 1: I’m still confused.

Boy 2: Did that guy just take my Skittles?

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Skittles logo on screen.]

Taste the Rainbow!

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Harvey's hanging out in the arena part of the Hellfire which, well, actually is now almost the entire ground floor and has grown to include a balcony that used to be a second floor! He's sucking down a 32-ounce Pepsi (the cup says so, hooray for product placement!) and munching on skittles (coincidence?) and notices the camera only after a few seconds of being lost in his own sugar-laced haze.]

DJHV: Oh, hey, yeah, welcome back. How about that Rocket Man? He's ... something, huh? I'd rip on him some right now but, well, he's not the weirdest thing going around here is he?
Let's see what the guy can do right now, shall we? Here's Rocket Man taking on our favorite drug-addled loser, Crackhead!

[Harvey cocks an eyebrow, squints, and looks off-camera at someone.]

DJHV: Man, who even cares about crack anymore? Shouldn't he be going by Methhead at this point? I mean, y'know, we are kind of in Chemical Valley here.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[HUGE arena, about 500 people in the seats (mostly at the ground level) and here we go!]

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
Crackhead
-vs-
Rocket Man
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[Crackhead comes out first, heralded by some weak grunge cover that's as dated as his "Blind Melon" shirt. Middle-aged and paunchy, 'Head looks more like an armchair quarterback than the wily veteran he is. The referee takes his signature lead pipe away from him as--

#RRRRRRROOOOOCCCCCCKKKKKEEEEEEEETTTTTTTT MMMMAAAAAANNNN!!!#

--a booming voice shouts over the PA system accompanied by weird, generic techno music and a man "flies" onto the screen. Dressed in a crimson and white vertical striped bodysuit with black boots and a crimson cape, he wears a crimson mask with a white face. He stands there triumphantly with his
fists on his hips looking out at the crowd.]
With a sweeping gesture, the "Rocket Man" points out at all the fans in the
Hellfire as the booming voice shouts one more time.]

DJHV: Holy hell, are you serious Barn?

BJ: What do you mean?

DJHV: This is who you're bringing in now?

BJ: Harvey, it's not like it was. The corporation has it's own talent scouts. I have "veto" power but I can only use it a few times per calendar year and they can override it with a majority vote in the "wrestling committee", and--

DJHV: Wow, no, enough! Okay, don't wanna know.

BJ: It's what I have to deal with now man.

DJHV: Sucks to be you. Let's just see what's up in the ring.

[After a little more posturing Rocket Man enters the ring. Referee Tariq Abdul Aziz frisks both men, has especially harsh words with Crackhead, then calls for the bell.]

DJHV: It's on!

[Meeting in the middle, Rocket man heads off a pre-emptive strike by Crackhead, extending his hand for the veteran to shake. Looking the "super hero" over, up, down, and shaking his head to make sure he's not hallucinating (quite possible given his reputation), he actually shakes hands with Rocket Man.
The crowd gives a mixed reaction, mostly cheering, then roar their disapproval as Crackhead hits a short-arm clothesline that floors Rocket Man! Up on one elbow, Rocket Man struggles to recover, taking kicks and stomps before dodging an elbowdrop! Three more times and RM is clear out of the ring! Confused, Crackhead spins around in search of his opponent, catching a right hand from RM on the apron! Staggering out, Crackhead turns around just in time to take a springboard clothesline!]

BJ: Zero Gravity! Crackhead goes down!

[Dropkick, hiptoss, snap suplex and a pin attempt by RM fails to end the match. Dropping 3 elbows and a knee similarly fails to put him away, getting only a 2. Crackhead finally rises to his feet, taking a dropkick and rocking against the ropes, Crackhead breathes hard. An irish whip attempt is blocked by Crackhead holding on tight. Several snap kicks to the ribs loosen his grip, but he reverses the whip, misses with a clothesline and takes a spinning heel kick! Face pop!]

DJHV: The man can move, no doubt.

[Pressing the advantage, RM climbs the ropes, and MOONSAULTS!]

BJ: NOBODY HOME!

[But RM lands on his feet, dropkicking Crackhead! Rushing in, RM tries for a snap DDT, but 'Head holds onto the top rope! Folding him up for a pin attempt, Crackhead puts his feet on the middle rope!]

BJ: No! Feet on the ropes! 2! 3!

[Just as his hand is about to hit the mat, referee Aziz notices Crackhead's feet, stands, and shoves him off sideways! Getting up shakily, Crackhead argues, getting nowhere with the veteran Irani official (who is turning dark red as he argues). Meanwhile, shaking his fists and gritting his teeth, RM rises behind them both.]

DJHV: Uh-oh, fruity's getting mad!

BJ: Rocket Man spins him around, SUPERKICK! Crackhead in the corner, Rocket Man on him! COUNTDOWN!

[Prompting the crowd (who starts at 1), Rocket Man shouts "10! 9!" then just punches, allowing the fans to take it down to 1.]

BJ: He's on fire! To the outside, ZERO GRAVITY AGAIN! He's going up top!

[Down but not out, Crackhead staggers to his feet, then wobbles towards the corner, catching a Missile Dropkick!]

BJ: BLAST OFF! There's the cover!

[It's an elementary 3-count and the referee raises RM's hand in victory!]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Back in the arena. Two young men practice in the ring behind Harvey.]

DJHV: Ain't that something? Wouldn't "Touchdown" be more appropriate than Blast Off? I mean, he's going down, not up. Meh, maybe he's afraid people will think he's a football player. I mean, like a dozen NFL guys have been called Rocket Man, right?
Anywho, see this guy behind me? Ignore the other dude, he ain't ready for TV.

[Harvey points. It's not clear who he means, especially considering the focus is on Harvey and not the background.]

DJHV: That's Joshua Endicott. He's one of FORGE's "Head of the Class" students, or something. I'm not sure how Jack Britain's really, y'know, uh, "quantifying" who's what there. I mean, it's not really a 4-year college, dig? But he's an upperclassman who's apparently doing real good, just like, uh, Kije. Let's hear from the guy.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=
Joshua Endicott
=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=

[We see a generic looking cell in a generic looking county jail. It then cuts to a fairly good looking young man in a gym. He is leaning forward on a bench, he wipes his brow and looks up at the camera.]

ENDICOTT: My name is Joshua Endicott, and the jail cell used to be my home. But I got a second chance.

[He takes a moment to let that sink in.]

ENDICOTT: And there is no way I am going to waste that chance, which is why this [motions to the gym] is my new home.

[He stands up]

ENDICOTT: I am hoping to FORGE a new future here.

[Fade.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Arena again.]

DJHV: Bad puns aside, the guy can go, I guess. Bart, one of the trainers at FORGE, apparently likes the guy because of his "understanding of the fundamentals". Not that he's playing favorites. I'm just saying.
Anyway, while I get on back to the studio, here's a little something from another man who's gonna be in the Heavyweight Title Tournament; Logan Foley.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
"Celtic Gentleman" Logan Foley.
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[The camera fades into a very simple scene as you see a a HUGE backdrop in the background as a medium size man stands in front of it. The camera zooms in close to reveal his left eye brow pierced, his labret and his left ear. He is dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt. The man just stands and begins to speak...]

MALE: "I am sure none of you know who I am. But I am sure if I mention my younger brother everyone would know who he is. I came to the HUGE for one reason and one reason only I am tied of all the fame my younger brother gets. I came to get out of the shadow of my younger brother. I figured if he could do it anyone can do it."

[The male pauses for a few seconds as he just stares into the camera...]

MALE: "My younger brother is nothing but a weak pathetic punk who couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag. His whole wrestling career has been a joke. He is not talented inside the ring. He just gets lucky in his matches. He may think otherwise but I know the true him and he is nothing like how he has. He is not this super hero that all of you make him out to be. I am here to expose him for the fraud that he is and also make a name for myself. Who am I? You might ask. I am the older brother of "The Celtic Crippler" Caleb Foley. I am Logan Foley. That is right another Foley has joined the wrestling scene but this one is nothing like his little brother..."

[An evil smirk comes across the face of Logan as he continues to speak ...]

LOGAN FOLEY: "I am not here to make friends. I am here to hurt people. I could care less what the fans think of me. Now it seems like that HUGE means business just like I do as they are having the first round matches. Now it seems like I have to face a person who calls himself "Mad Dog" Valentine. Valentine I do not know anything about nor do I care to know anything about you. All that matters is that you show up for our match. So I can kick your ass from pillar to post, break a few ribs, make you bleed and hear you scream like a little bitch. You may think you are a "Mad Dog" but after I am done with you your new nickname will be "Scared Pussy". Valentine just show up to our match because if you don't then I am going to have to find you. And when I do find you I will make sure you will not remember anything about your past."

[Logan just begins to laugh as the camera fades to black...]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Harvey's in the HUGE studio, seated behind a desk with the "HUGE" logo and "Chatterbox" beneath that in an Arial Black font.]

DJHV: And I'm back. Miss me? That Logan Foley thinks he's a bigger deal than his brother. Is he? I got no idea, brah, but tell you what, he better be if he's gonna have to be if he wants to go over the "Mad Dog". Valentine's one of the strongest guys in HUGE and he's got an intensity few can match. Let's hear what he has to say about it, huh?

[Beat. Harvey looks to someone behind the camera.]

DJHV: Am I the only one who thought he was gonna say "scared bitch"? Yeah--

[CUT~!]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
"Mad Dog" Valentine
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

*WOOF*

*WOOF*

*WOOF*

We pan into a barking and wild eyed 'Mad Dog' Valentine. The crazed wrestler is decked out in usual eighties style wearing purple and white, zebra striped wrestling pants, white- knee high boots, white knee pads and a white elbow pad. The assembling of cheesy attire doesn't stop there however as purple and white bandanas adorn his wrists and a well as a purple wrapped around his badly blonde dyed mullet! His face is covered by black stubble except for the badly dyed chin goatee that is braided while his bulky upper torso is covered by a sleeveless, vintage ‘Van Halen’ tee.]

MDV: EVERYBODY SAW IT BAY-BEE! Everybody saw how I picked up the biggest cruiserweight in HUGE and slammed him to the canvas everybody saw the crazy dog on his way to a victory until that no good whatever the hell his name is went hit the Mad Dog with a big ole rubber one!

[Mad Dog shakes his head in wonderment.]

MDV: Now I’ve been hit with chairs, shovels, sticks, stones, heck you name it, I’ve been hit by it. But never in my life have I been hit by a rubber tool that makes the women croon and I have to say… it was weird.

[Mad Dog ponders for a moment then shakes his head.]

MDV: Which brings me to this week. The legendary Caleb Foley. The never back down Irish fella. The man making quite a stir in the wrestling business and let me tell you the ‘Dog has a lot of respect for you.
But that don’t mean I won’t be fixing to stick my size sixteen up your red headed ass young man! Don’t think for a second that the Mad Dog hasn’t been fixing to get down and dirty and show all these boys in HUGE just how Mr. Valentine rolls! Twinkie got off easy. Everybody knew he got beat, but you my red haired little friend, won’t be so lucky to see a big black rubber dildo take the Dog out. No siree, I have to question logic… hell, I have to question a lot of things as to what troubles that individual had to go through to load a dildo with enough force to knock somebody out and God knows we all don’t need to know just how close my little dildo wielding friend is to that black rubber cylinder.

[Mad Dog shakes his head and mumbles to himself.]

MDV: What was I talking about again [scratches his chin goatee] Oh right. Caleb Foley. Now I’m going to make this as simple as possible Foley. Do I respect you? WOOF! You’re damn right I do. Do I think you are going to be a big star in HUGE?

[barks again]

MDV: WOOF!
Absolutely. But it won’t be coming at my expense boy. See I have a little chip on my shoulder this week. I’ve been going over what happened in my mind and the Dog isn’t going to stand for it. So there is only one way to go about getting over that and that is putting a piece of tin around my waist and calling myself the champion of this here place. I’ll do whatever I have to do to get the job done Caleb, which is bad news for you!
The Dog is coming WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! And you’re going to find out that his bite is WAY worse then his bark!

[FTB]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

DJHV: Okay, so the mental midget got it in his empty head that Logan's his little brother Caleb? Understandable, I mean, I know there's a lot of room ... for confusion ... in his head. Maybe he's just trying to piss Logan off, y'know, since he doesn't like his own brother.
Anyway, there's more than just a tournament to crown a new champion in HUGE. Ever hear of a sick, twisted individual named Foodstamp? Me neither, but he won't tell anybody his name. Hey, he must be legit or the corporation wouldn't have sent him here. Right?

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[ROLL FILM!]

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
Foodstamp
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[Somewhere, deep in the crotch of America, in the dark depths of the Hellfire Bar and Grill stands... a man in a hallway. He is short but not too short. One would guess around six feet tall, but his weight... His weight seems almost nonexistent. One would consider this man to be almost unhealthy skinny. This judgment comes from how thin and bony his arms appear to be. Aside from his stature, what attracts the most attention is this creature's face, since its covered by a think brown leather mask. The mask only covers the man's face, allowing his wild and unkempt dreadlocks to spill over it, going every which way. As the man plods down the back hallway, he certainly gives off a certain... homeless vibe. He stops, noticing the camera, and tilts his head. Pausing briefly, the man breaks his glare, beginning to speak... nay, almost _shout_ at the camera as he continues his march down the hallway.]

MAN: Do you remember me? Do you remember this _face_????

[He shakes his head, dirt falls from the dreads.]

MAN: I didn't think you would! It's been years since I've had the balls to step forward and accept my destiny! It's been years since you all treated me a like BLEEPing one trick pony, putting me on the shelf once all the shock and awe wore off! BLEEPING SHEEP! BLEEPING THOUGHTLESS, MINDLESS SHEEP!!!

[Throws a near by chair into the wall as he walks past.]

MAN: But it's okay.... It will _ALLLLLL_ be okay! I've found myself now! I have once again found the dark light, listened to the Wolf's call, and found myself _back_ on the path to destiny. HUGE will be the beginning of my long journey... I hope you all are ready. I hope you all have come prepared! I figured you haven't though... How could you??? You didn't even know I was coming! You didn't even know I still BLEEPing existed!!!

[Turns over a table sitting in the hallway.]

MAN: It'll be okay though... Soon you won't be able to forget who I am. Soon, you won't be able to hide under the covers, and pretend like I don't exist. I am no longer a distant memory, one that cannot hurt you. I am now your current chaotic nightmare, one is staring you straight in the face, daring you to move. Life will never be the same, HUGE... Never ever the same after I've had my way with you!

[Evil, evil laugh as he continues down the hallway.]

MAN: Welcome to Camp Foodstamp, HUGE! I hope you enjoy the opening night festivities as much as I will! And remember, it's only up from _here_!

[The man... named... Foodstamp!?!?! continues down the hallway, reaching the entrance point for the ring area.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

DJHV: Wanna see what happens next? You do!? No, you really don't. Anyway, let's see what happens when Foodstamp takes on veteran high-flier Tony Blake.

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
Foodstamp
-vs-
"Superfreak" Tony Blake.
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[First, Mindless Self Induglence's song, "You'll Rebel to Anything (As Long As It's Not Challenging)", blares out of the Hellfire's PA system. The fans stand, curiously, watching as a leather-masked weirdo emerges from the Dungeon. He stands at the top of the ramp, surveying the crowd before him. With a shake of his head, Food begins his march to the ring, ignoring all of the fans at ringside and focused squarely on the ring. He gets to the ring, and rolls underneath the bottom rope to the middle of the ring, and then kneels, again giving a death glare to all of the people in attendence. He stands, walking backwards into the nearby corner, and flopping down, sitting with his back against he bottom turnbuckle, waiting for the match to begin.
Blake comes out to "Superfreak" by Rick James, dancing disco-style and getting a mild cheer. Stopping as he rolls to his feet in the ring, he looks Food over apprehensively. Barney Johnson's voice is heard for the first time this broadcast.]

BJ: Blake doesn't know what to make of this newcomer.

DJHV: Me neither man. They're the same size but Foodstamp is ripped!

[Pulling himself to his feet in one motion, Foodstamp stands in the middle of the ring, sending Blake backpedaling to a corner himself. The bell sounds, and that's where things go downhill.
Lighting into Blake immediately, Foodstamp bowls him over then stomps the hell out of him in the corner. The referee counts to 5, then pulls him back. Jerking away, Foodstamp seems to snarl behind his mask, then stomps some more. The ref pulls him back again, putting a finger in his face, which Food just slaps away from his face. The ref still yelling at him, he grabs Blake by his dreads, jerks him out of the corner, then hits a snap mare by the hair. A kick to the back of the seated Blake sends a cry of "ohhh" out from the crowd.]

DJHV: Man, he's muggin' the poor guy! What's up with this trend of guys being overmatched in your business, man?

BJ: It's never intentional, I assure you.

[Catching Blake with a right hand, Foodstamp presses him back, irish whip and GORILLA PRESS LIFT! Effortlessly holding him up in the air, Foodstamp milks it for a moment, then releases--]

BJ: Good lord! What power from a cruiserweight!

[--hurracanrana! Foodstamp roars as the crowd comes alive! Pressing the advantage, Blake comes at him with fists, gets shoved to the mat once, twice, three times!]

BJ: Blake with the comeback! Unbelievable! NO!

[A T-Bone Suplex sends Blake to the outside! The referee admonishes Foodstamp for his blatant toss over the top as the leather-faced nutjob pursues his quarry outside. What follows is an ugly beating as Blake's face meets the guardrail, ring post, and finally he takes a Tiger Bomb on an open chair! Ducking into the ring, Foodstamp breaks the count long enough to fetch Blake again.
Bleeding profusely, Blake staggers after the psycho dragging him, then has his face rammed face first into the top ringstep twice, middle ringstep twice, and finally shoved face first into the bottom step. Rolling his victim into the ring, Food rolls in, ready to continue the assault.]

DJHV: Barn, seriously, uh, stop this? Last I checked murder is illegal and I don't think you want former HUGE champ "Sheriff" Bob Bobley investigating around here, do ya?

BJ: Good Lord no!

[Foodstamp blithely shoulders the referee out of the way to grab Blake. Objecting, the ref can be heard to say "that's enough!"]

BJ: Referee Freddy Jacobs was checking on Blake but Foodstamp's not done!

[The bell rings as Foodstamp continues to pull on Blake, who seems incapable of rising. Foodstamp is announced the winner by Harvey who declares his fear of the man in the leather mask as Food hits a Full Nelson Face Buster on the unconscious Blake.]

BJ: He calls that the Poor Man's Plastic Surgery! Good lord, call an ambulance!

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Back in the studio.]

DJHV: Saying that Foodstamp is a force to be reckoned with is ... well, kinda stupid. The guy's a nut. Sure, we had Spectre, and he was scary, but the guy was more controlled. You never saw Spectre declared the winner by knockout and then keep beating the dude. I mean, he's unconscious, dig? What you proving by beating up an unconscious dude? Just go work the heavy bag!
On a lighter note, if you can call it that, it's time to hear from another one of the students that will be featured on the FORGE Television program on SHoT. This one's not a former criminal, I don't think, he's the son of some famous guy! Give it up for Henry Craven.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=
Henry Craven
=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=FORGE=

[Cut to show a gymnasium. Wrestling posters line the walls from organizations both old (EMWC, MLWO, IIWF) and new (AWA, UWF, 3DW) and an overly tall and lean young man slouches on a wooden bench amidst the weightlifting equipment. Raising his head, he sweeps his long, black hair away from his face. Fair-skinned, he frowns slightly, the corners of his mouth touching the upper points of his goatee. As he opens his eyes to gaze at the camera, the fans at home find themselves pierced by distinctive, familiar, ice-blue eyes.]

HC: Hey. I'm ... Henry Craven.

[Speaking haltingly, the kid is hauntingly familiar. He alternates between averting his eyes and staring intently into the camera lens.]

HC: They wanna call me a legacy. Yeah, my dad's William Craven. Yeah, he named me after himself and his father before him, but I prefer my middle name. He didn't raise me though. My mom, my uncle Zeke and myself are responsible for who I am.

[Looking petulant, he sweeps his hair up again, this time tying it back into a topknot at the peak of his head.]

HC: I'm 23, been wrestling since I was 15, but nobody'll really hire me on. Say the 'State Athletic Commission's never heard of you' and other bull*BLEEP*. So okay, I'm getting trained, all right? No more backyards.

[Standing, Henry looks down at the camera.]

HC: I'm seven-one and two-eighty-five. I can get the job done, okay? The only problem I got is not getting pissed off. So look out guys, here I come!

[Cut.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Studio.]

DJHV: Hey, all right. I won't piss him off although ... I have to say this. Doesn't he look more like a basketball player than a wrestler? Seriously, he's tall and lanky. Okay, I'm done.
So yeah, there aren't a lot of guys I knew in wrestling before Barney dragged me into this world. This is one of 'em. Say hi to new acquisition Miguel Quesada.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Fade in.]

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
"Smooth as Silk" Miguel Quesada
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[First thing the camera sees, American Airlines Arena. Right in the heart of Miami, Florida. Home of THE Miami Heat. Palm trees surround the area, with the sun illuminating the area. The camera pans out a bit and then we see our star. New to HUGE, but definitely not knew to the scene, the man known as "Smooth as Silk" Miguel Quesada. Jet black faux-hawk, white Miami Heat jersey with the 3 on front (That's Dwyane Wade for those of you that don't know.) Baggy blue jean pants.. and a huge grin on his face.]

MQ: I'm not going to start this off with, "For those of you that don't know me," because we all know you know who I am. Why am I here in HUGE? Good question. A star the caliber of myself would usually be on the big stage. All the glitz.. all the glamour.. the way we do it here in South Beach. But, right now, I've decided against that. I know you all are completely confused by that.. but that's okay. You don't need to understand it right now. You will.

[Miguel turns around slightly to get a look at the arena, then back to the camera.]

MQ: You see that building? Most of my life, I've been watching the Miami Heat play at that place. Good years and bad. Hell, I've seen them win a championship. But now, things are different. Now, we're about to start a dynasty. Year after year.. title after title.. it's going to be domination.

[The grin grows.]

MQ: Why do I say we? Because that's EXACTLY how it's going to be in HUGE. Me... Miguel Quesada.. dominating HUGE. This little tournament I'm in? Easy. We all know Preston Mayfield can't beat me. That's just common sense. And then, the dynasty.. the Era of Miquel Quesada begins in HUGE. I've been away from the game for quite some time. It's been a long, long time since my WWO days.. but I'm not that old, man. I haven't lost a step. I've been training.. I've been waiting for the day where I felt like I wanted to do this again. I knew the itch wasn't gone for good.

And here we go. It's time. Preston Mayfield vs. THE Miguel Quesada. It's only a first round matchup in the tournament, but the result will be the same during the entire run.

[Miguel grabs the top of the jersey and pulls it slightly upward.]

MQ: Your winner.. THE Miguel Quesada.. bank on it.

[Fade out.]
*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Studio.]

DJHV: Okay, two things, alright? First off, I don't do the editing, so this ain't my fault. The producers don't wanna go back and correct the graphic that says "The Rocket Man" earlier in the show. It's just Rocket Man, okay? Idiots!
Second, okay, this piece should've been next to Preston Mayfield's 'cause they're fighting in the first round of the tournament, dig? But Preston's bit was actually for Kije, so, y'know, cluster*BLEEP*.
Anyway, Miggy kinda ran us down there... Guess he's bigger than HUGE or something. Don't worry though, Barn's still gonna hope he goes over Preston Mayfield. Preston's been bulletproof around this place almost since HUGE was purchased by Strickland Co. and, well ... I shouldn't say any more. It'll just get Barney pissed.
Hey, you know that fat bastard Tiwilliger? Oh yeah, everybody hates the dude. Okay, I don't, he's hilarious in my book. Always eats all the Hellfire's leftovers at the end of the day so, y'know, waste not want not and stuff. So what I'm leading up to is ... here's the guy he's fighting Tre Jordan--

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
Tre Jordan
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[The scene opens inside the Hellfire Bar & Grill. The ring has been set up, though no one is walking near the ring to put finishing touches on it, nor are fans walking around the arena. However, three people populate the ring. One, Billy McWilliams, also known as Mack, the blind do-it-all man for Tre Jordan. He stands while the other two sit with a look of half amusement, half bewilderment.

The two people sitting...one is our hero, the straw that stirs the drink, the past, present, and future of professional wrestling, a Mr. Tre Jordan. The other is some old guy in monk garb. But Jordan looks rather awesome.

Production value...there's a sound of an eerie wind that seems to be circulating without the slightest visual sign of wind.]

Jordan: "Master...tell me...how will I gain revenge on that horrible man, Mr. Mayfield?"

Monk: "While usually I believe nonviolence is simply the only answer, your choice of work will not allow for that. I believe the only true way to achieve true vengeance is to start with his accomplice. A "Twinkletoes" Tiwilliger."

Jordan: "Ah, the fatty mcfatterson. But how can I do that? I mean, I realize I am a tool of awesomeness, but he has four chins! That's a handicap match already!"

[Mack pulls forward.]

Mack: "Perhaps, if we watched some film and prepared for--"

Jordan: "How dare you! I realize you believe this man's religion is fiddles and sticks, but show some respect! He's a monk so his experience with sumos has to be great."

Mack: "Sir?"

Jordan: "Exactly, shape up and fly right. Or left. Whichever way gets us to the victory circle."

[Mack stares at him blankly. Well, technically, he stares at everyone blankly, but I'm sure if he could have seen Jordan, he would have stared blankly. Jordan reverts his attention to the monk.]

Jordan: "So, how should I approach this match with Fatticus?"

Monk: "I think the important thing to remember is that you must keep your confidence. Without it, all is lost. You must believe in yourself, Tre. Remember that your opponent has to be concerned with your speed. Use it. It will not be easy, my son, but you can prevail if you keep your wits about you and simply believe."

Jordan: "Wow, you touched me here (pointed to his heart). So even though Fattingham is fatter than a Republican in a tub full of poor people, I have to remember that I can actually move more than three steps without needed an IV drip of lard. I feel completely prepared now."

Mack: "Would you like to train for some of his moves?"

Jordan: "Mack, if you want to be replaced, just say the word. I am ready now. I need no more training. But since the match isn't until later, it's time for nappy. Go find me a warm bed and my stockings. And when it's time, wake me so that I may take my rightful place in the semifinals. Thank you, Mr. Monk. You have been incredibly helpful. When I win, I'll be sure to think Allah."

[The monk starts to say something, but Jordan attacks him with a hug as the scene ends.]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[Studio~!]

DJHV: Okay, those fat jokes were kinda funny, but it didn't really mask that Tre Jordan's a whiny bitch and some *BLEEP*, okay? My favorite 500-pound "Cruiserweight" is gonna make him into a pancake ... then eat him 'cause he loves him some pancakes.
Speaking of cannibalism, here's something from another guy who's freakin' terrifying. Check out Rust Stiletto.

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[From darkened shadows, a horrifically graveled and raspy voice sounds out....]

Voice: Once upon a time, I was a pawn to a man who thought he was the dark power....

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
Rust Stiletto
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[...A gurgling chuckle is heard...]

RS: ...A scar-faced fool who openly mocked God and Satan. He declared himself an Icon of Sin, but he was a pretender, a...

[...Another gurgled, half choked laugh sounds...]

RS: ...fraud... I knew better, but followed none the less because he was a means to an end. Everything that has transpired has been according to a design. This design has no beginning...
...It has no end....
...But it has purpose, and it is neither the beginning nor the end that gives it meaning. It is the purpose, that does so.

[A match is struck, dimly lighting up it's holder, but not giving him definition. The small flame moves through the darkness to find purchase on the wick of a candle. The wick burns brightly in the darkness and the candle is lifted by it's base by a taped hand and brought closer to the figure's face, framed by long, stringy black hair. We find that face painted white, the area around his eyes, and his lips are painted black, with the natural lines and wrinkles of his face defined by light smudgings of black. His painted lips are a cluster of piercings that seem interlocked together. The man's eyes are milky and clouded, as if blinded by cataracts.
The most unsettling feature he possesses, however, is a set of jagged, misshapen, rotted teeth connected to diseased gums that he briefly flashes at the camera. He sports a long, tattered leather duster with rusty nails protruding down the length of his sleeves, and is seated upon a rather old wooden chair of gothic design.]

RS: I take no joy in my part of the design. There is no solace, no respite, no rest for the wicked. I cannot even partake in the simple joy of pain, having to experience it's wondrous rapture by watching the suffering of others.

[He takes the candle to his open palm and runs it back and forth across the skin. We watch it bubble up and blister after several uncomfortable seconds. Gradually Rust pulls the candle away from his hand, those dead eyes lowering to look upon that burned palm with. His expression becomes one of sadness, a soft sigh escaping his lips.]

RS: My flesh burns, but it does not feel...

[Slowly that sadness gives way to sudden and inexplicable anger. His brow furrows and his eyes narrow into thin slits. He bares those rotten, twisted teeth and stares directly into the camera. A syllabant hiss passes through those clenched teeth.]

RS: SSSKKKKKKKKTTTHHHHHSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSsssss...
...Hunger is all that I feel. I hunger for each and every breath you take, every thump your heart makes, the blood flowing in your veins, and the dreams that aspire to make reality. I want to taste your life and devour it whole. Only when I feed on your essence, do I feel.

[He sets the candle down on a small table beside him, then leans back with his arms crossed over his chest in an X, hands open. With his head tilted back, his eyes flutter open and close as expressions of pleasure relax the muscles of his face.]

RS: ...and what I feel, is blissful ecstasy that is far greater than anything the flesh has to offer. Even thinking of it excites me....

[Rolling his head to the left and then tilting it forward, he looks into the camera from beneath the ridge of his brow.]

RS: ...and that, is part of the design. I was made this way in service to the grand design, and if I feel pleasure by siphoning the life from others, then so be it. I will drain each and every one of you to the last breath, and there will be no remorse, no regrets. There will only be the satisfaction of knowing that my purpose is fulfilled....

[A chilling wind blows, wafting that stringy black hair and blowing out the candle light in a waft of smoke. Rust Stiletto's horrific, gurgling laugh is heard echoing as the scene cuts...]

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

[STUDIO~!]

DJHV: Okay, so, I got the willies. I mean, sure, we got a couple nutty guys but, well, okay, more creepy crawlies than willies. The guy's gross, man! I mean, I'm scared of the dude flickin' the butterfly knife around at the abandoned warehouse next to my apartment building _every_day_, but at least I know his breath won't kill me. Damn!
One last thing and we out, people! Check it! Let's see what Rusty can do when he takes on the crazy cat himself, El Gato!

*ZZZSSSHHHHZZZSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHTTT*

=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=
Rust Stiletto
-vs-
El Gato
=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=HUGE=

[Coming out first, heralded by generic Mariachi music, Gato, the tiny luchador, first slides into the ring, then leaps up to the top rope to salute the fans and finally backflips to the middle of the ring to await his opponent.]

BJ: Interesting fact; Gato is actually the third man to wrestle under this identity.

DJHV: Oh yeah, who were the first two?

BJ: His father, starting in 1977, and his brother who started as El Gato but went on to be "El Gato Loco"... This makes our Gato either El Gato Dos or El Gato Tres. I'm not sure how that works, honestly.

DJHV: Ah, interesting, useless, facts... Awesomeness.

[The lights dim. The low crooning guitar chords to Iced Earth's "Reaping Stone" sound out over the house PA, the lights flashing on and off between pitch blackness, blood red, and black light hues. Fog begins to bellow out from the entrance arch in such a voluminous amount that soon the arena is filled...]

DJHV: What's up with the fog machine, Barn? And did that thing just say "Raping Stone"?

BJ: I think it was "reaping" and I sure as hell didn't know about any fog machine.

[Out from the back comes a horrid ghoul of a man. Meeting Gato in the center, he sends the diminutive luchador scrambling to the outside, then disrobes his tattered jacket, full of rusted nails, and tosses it to the outside.]

DJHV: Christ! Dude, gotta fly, got a date with an old priest and a young priest!

BJ: Sit down!

[After some coercion, Gato re-enters the ring. The bell sounds, and Gato is stopped cold by the icy, blank stare of Rust.]

DJHV: What is up with those contacts? Seriously, does this guy just keep those in all the time?

BJ: I don't know much about Rust Stiletto, but I do know this; he comes in to work looking like that and he leaves looking like that. If he drives here, he ain't parking in our lot and nobody's seen his car.

[Waiting, Rust's eerie glare finally spurs Gato to act! Punches have no affect. Several snap kicks send Rust back a pace, but ultimately have no affect. Finally, a dropkick backs Rust to the ropes. Off the ropes, and a cross-body attempt is blocked by a front thrust kick! Pop!
Pulling Gato to his feet, Rust hits a judo hiptoss (throwing a thigh into the victim to hurl them up and over with great force). Gripping him hard, Rust gouges into the eyeholes of Gato's mask with both thumbs. The referee admonishes him, counting to 4 before Rust releases Gato's head.
His pain seeming to ignite his fire, Gato lights back into Rust with reckless abandon, striking time and again. Off the ropes, and Rust sidesteps, hurling Gato to the outside! Off the ropes, and Rust hits a baseball slide dropkick that sends Gato into the guardrail! Heaving him up easily, Rust hits a fireman's carry into a tombstone piledriver on the mat outside the ring!]

BJ: Rust in Peace! That's his big move!

[The referee counts, and Rust watches, waiting for Gato to get up. He stirs, but only slightly. Finally, at the count of 9, both the ghoul and his victim enter, one thrown, one under his own power as Rust still waits for his victim to stand.
Finally, after another 10 seconds have passed, Gato has gotten up on his hands and knees, and apparently that's enough. Rust reels back, and dives onto him, shoving his hand down Gato's mouth and sinking a thumb into the luchador's jaw muscle! Gato squirms, convulses, seizes and vomits all over the place. The referee, panicking, calls for the bell and medical attention for Gato!]

BJ: He has Tetanus applied! The match is over! Someone stop this nut!

[Louder and louder, the fans become more alarmed as Gato thrashes on the mat, looking like an Epilepsy patient. Medics and security personnel alike try to pull Rust off of Gato, and the last thing the fans at home see is Rust's twisted, pale and painted face before it all fades to black.]

A Strickland Sports Company, © 2010 RTN International. All rights reserved.
And it was at this moment that the entire world realized, in unison, that tandem bicycles were AWESOME~!
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