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| UWF/MBC Online Countdown to RBR - August 21, 2010; From Horsemen Country | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 9 2010, 03:56 PM (335 Views) | |
| KliqerT | Nov 9 2010, 03:56 PM Post #1 |
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Doughy
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Now online: http://www.uwfcentral.com/cards/online0821.txt "There are human vermin in this life. They taint the World with their vile, parasitic behaviour ; not once showing a slither of remorse for their selfish, odious actions... And of course, creations of this ilk do not deserve to have circumstances happen upon their terms ... The nefarious 'Dead End' Derek Martin, for instance, had everything that he had symbolically attained ripped from his prying, blood-stained grasp. _I_ banished him to the Hellish void that he deserved ... And somehow, somewhere ... sometime ... I will do the same unto a certain putrid waste of flesh, who will no longer be 'DaMann'." [Before the camera lens, he stands ; stripped to the waist and bedecked in black from thereon downwards. His head is slightly bowed, with his long grey/silver locks partially obscuring his goateed countenance. It is clear that this heavily-muscled, 6'4" warrior is somewhat embroiled in the act of taping up his left wrist ... but the North American Champion, Gabriel Whitecross, continues to speak ; his gravelly voice reflecting his escalating intensity.] GW: ... But for the now, I must concentrate my efforts in successfully representing UWF, in a match against SBC Champion ; Jerry 'Pure Power' Titus. And unlike those I have had the misfortune of recently encountering in combat - you, Mr. Titus, have a degree of personal honour that I can respect. You also carry your accolade with pride, and for that I applaud you. [With a deft touch, Gabriel concludes wrist taping, and raises his head to regard the lens. Pale blues eyes burn with a combative passion.] GW: Titus, our paths have crossed before, as tag team allies ... Now we get to test our steel against each other. No Title is at stake, but the pride and reputation of our respective factions rides heavy upon our shoulders. Make no mistake, I will afford you no mercy, my friend. You _will_ feel the full extent of my fury ... And you will duly discover that 'pure power' alone will _not_ best an 'era' spent dwelling in 'defiance'. [A grin steeped in savage relish emerges ; a soft, unsetting chuckle accompanying it.] GW: I wish you well, Jerry ... [Slowly ... deliberately ... the heavily-tattooed Englishman moves from view.] "... I wish you well ..." ============================== UWF/MBC ONLINE COUNTDOWN TO RAMPAGE BLOODY RAMPAGE ============================== Time Warner Cable Arena Charlotte, NC August 21st, 2010 ============================== [We are taken to one of the luxury suites of the Time Warner Cable Arena where our two usual suspects are standing by with the remaining moments before the big daddy show of them all, Rampage Bloody Rampage. Standing on the right, dressed in khaki pants and a black UWF polo shirt, is Moe Owens. To his left is his MBC counterpart, dressed in black pants and red MBC polo, Billy "Scud" McKenzie.] MO: Welcome everyone to the Online Countdown to Rampage Bloody Rampage. There's a certain buzz about the locker room tonight as people are expecting yet another explosive night. Last RBR saw the return of the UWF World Champion Trey DaMann as he signed his UWF contract. Scud: And the RBR before that saw Crimson turn on Vengeance to claim the MBC World Championship. MO: Things at the top are chaotic and that only trickles down. And tonight's main event between Jerry Titus and Gabriel Whitecross will be beyond memorable. Scud: Less of a trickle, more like a tsunami. MO: And I would be remiss if we didn't touch on the events of House of Throwdowns. Scud: I wish you wouldn't. MO: I have to ask you this Scud. Scud: I wish you didn't. MO: Doesn't Tommy Elliott know he's not supposed to mess with another man's cock? Scud: Trice volunteered for that stunt of his own free will! MO: You DO realize that you're talking about conversing with a chicken right? Scud: You've been in this business far too long to dare talk to me about the weirdness of talking to chickens! MO: Point taken. Nevertheless, things are far more personal between the Insanity Society and Don't Go There. Factor in the Chromosomes and we're looking at a three way tag match at Heaven and Hell to beat all tag matches. Scud: I hope they don't come after me. MO: For your sake Scud, let's hope they don't go seeking to hurt the I.S.'s mascot. Scud: We don't have a mascot. MO: Don't you? Scud: Oh crap... I'm the mascot. [MEEP] me. MO: If I don't see you next show Scud... well... [Scene opens to what can best be described as a small classroom. There are school desks with small work tops on them and even a little cage underneath the chair for one to place their books in. Sitting in the first desk we see, dressed in a denim overall dress with a short sleeve button up shirt underneath, is Stephanie Delacroix, arms folded and looking quite unhappy.] Male Voice: Anger, in the words of Johnny Rotten, is an energy. [We pan to the right of Delacroix and sitting in the desk next to hers, wearing a white with blue stripes on the sleevs Real Madrid home jersey and blue jeans, it's Delacroix's husband "The Up All Night" Pablo O'Connor, who also looks unhappy and has his arms folded.] MV: But just because it is an energy, that does not mean that it is a GOOD energy! [We pan to the right of O'Connor and sitting next to him... well not so much sitting. She's slouched in her chair, limbs limp with boredom. The blue jeans and Red Irish T-shirt could perhaps give away her identity but just then, Tesla St. James lifts her head, rubs her tired and bored eyes and returns to being bored out of her mind.] MV: In fact, anger is more often than not a BAD energy! [We pan to the right of St. James and sitting next to her is the former multiple time MBC women's champion, the blonde haired blue eyed Toronto native Tara "Sunburst" Marshall. Where normally would be her trademark giant smile instead is a frown, and a look of disbelief that she's here at all. Tara's attire is simple, a pair of bluejeans and a navy shirt with a white maple leaf across the front. A quick glance towards Tesla, then back to the floor.] MV: There are times where the energy known as anger can be used for constructive, positive uses. [We pan to the right of Marshall and sitting next to her.. is no one. The camera then pulls back and centers to fit all four plus the empty desk. Everyone's eyes seem to be focused on the speaker.] MV: To be used in such a fashion anger must be managed. That, my friends, is why all of you are here today. This is a special counseling session on anger management! [Immediately O'Connor and Delacroix groan with frustration and annoyance. St. James gives a single finger salute that the censors have no choice but to blur out. Tara uncharacteristically snorts in derision of the revelation.] MV: I understand that all of you are going through interesting, possibly difficult times, and have longstanding issues with this energy christened anger. But fear not! Fret not! Worry not! For I am here to help you! I... [The camera finally spins around and standing before the classroom is the arbiter of this particular anger management session, a rather tall man with a large frame. Under his business suit is a neck bulging with veiny muscles, and a pair of eyes that seem familiarly crazy.] NJ: Dr. John! [He smiles dementedly for a moment then nods his head.] NJ: NUCLEAR Dr. John! Yeaaargh. [Yep, there it is. Nuclear John Bomber, who sometime after wearing UWF tag team gold over a decade ago, seems to have gotten his doctorate in... well, something. Pablo drops his head into his hands and shakes his head frustratedly while Stephanie's right eye twitches. Tesla pretends her hand is a revolver and has started a game of Russian Roulette. Upon Tesla 'losing the game', Tara takes it upon herself to start round 2.] *SLAM!* [Just then, all eyes move towards the doorway where we see the missing fifth member of this support group.] "Sorry I'm late, traffic was a real bi-..." [Juan Vasquez. The most miserable man in all of wrestling pauses in mid-sentence as he notices who else is part of the class. He crosses his arms and surveys the room as a frown forms on his lips. He takes a deep breath and stares down at the floor with a regretful look on his face. Is this what his life has come to? Anger management classes with furries and the unpopular Marshall sister? A Canadian women's wrestler that's not even Nikki the Cat? He looks back up, looking as if he's about to say something...] *Sigh* [...and then simply shakes his head and leaves the room.] *SLAM!* [Everyone stares at the door for a few moments, no doubt wishing they had done exactly as Vasquez did when they walked into the room. The regret and remorse at not leaving when it was less awkward fills the moment. Then they all turn to look at their counselor.] NDJ: Well... Let's watch a slide show presentation to get things going! [Audible groan as the scene fades.] Scud: Glad I skipped out on that. MO: You were ordered to go to anger management? Scud: I have my moments. Small... moments. MO: Before we get too deep into the show, I'm told we have a very special segment down in the arena. Scud: Is it an "After School" special or "Arnold and Dudley Play King of the Jungle" special? MO: I don't really think I can handle another Gordon Jump reference. I don't even really think people know who Gordon Jump is. Scud: That's what Google is for. [The lights turn from the ring to the stage below the MegaTron, decorated to look like some kind of candy coated catwalk. Out walk the couple of Slush and Chastity Davenport with their thin, long -stemmed microphones.] CD: Hello everyone, and welcome back to the Miss Morality 2010 Pageant! I'm Chastity Davenport... Slush: And if you don't know who I am, you stayed in the underground bunker too long, World War Three didn't happen as planned, and it's time to open the bunker hatch. CD: Ladies and gentlemen, I am excited in a fully platonic way. Up next is the always riveting Miss Morality Evening Gown Talent Competition! Do you have some favorite talents, Slush? Slush: I admire talent like... women that can women who can hold their breath for a really long time. CD: That must be useful for scuba diving. Slush: Right... scuba diving. And I also admire women who aren't allergic to nuts... if you know what I mean. CD: Peanuts are healthy and delicious. Slush: Mine are extra salty. [Obviously, Chastity Davenport did not know what Slush meant.] CD: Our first finalist to compete in tonight's Evening Gown Talent Show is none other than Georgia Church! [An instrumental version of "Proud Mary" begins to play as the curtains part, revealing a cage with Georgia in it! Georgia is clad in a sequined, mini dress and sequined go-go boots, her brown hair a wild, teased mane. As the music plays, she performs a shimmy and shake, wildly gyrating against the cage.] Slush: And we're already off to a great start! Looks like Holly's been teaching her a little more than just wrestling. Where's the pole? CD: Ah...yes. Ms. Church has studied many forms of dance it seems... [As if she heard her, Georgia then begins to tap, swinging her arms wildly, before performing a pirouette and dropping down into a perfect split. Georgia raises her arms and throws back her head as the crowd applauds, the curtains closing.] Slush: Thank you. I'll have another. CD: Next is the also talented... but morally misguided Ayako Fujiwara! [Ayako steps out, dressed in a baby blue, strapless chiffon evening gown with a long, flowing skirt and white satin gloves. On the stage, a grand piano has been set-up and in Ayako's hands, she holds a violin. However, there doesn't seem to be anyone else coming out. Oddly enough, Ayako begins to take off her stiletto heels, drawing a few murmurs of confusion from the audience.] Slush: I don't understand what's going on here. Do you? CD: I don't have the slightest clue, Slush. [Sitting on a slightly raised bench, Ayako pulls up her skirt just enough so it's not in the way and that's when you realize what's happening. Ayako's going to play the piano. With her _FEET._ _AND_ she's also going to play the violin. What's she playing? Super Mario Bros Medley, bitches. And it's _flawless._ By the time she's done, the crowd is silent. Shocked into amazement. Awe- struck by the talent they just witnessed. And then just like on House of Throwdowns, you hear it again. Applause. Blushing deeply, a somewhat flustered Ayako shyly walks over to the microphone stand and quickly bows to the crowd.] Ayako: Arigatou gozaimasu! [And with that, she runs off-stage.] Slush: Um...wow. CD: I don't have a clue what I just watched. Slush: A young, hot girl with talented fingers and toes... think she's single? [Ignoring that last comment, Chastity moves on.] CD: And last but not least, the Beauty from Bergen, Sam. No doubt she has a plethora of amazing talents! SS: She also looks like the kind of gal with talents I can admire one handed! CD: Ah... sure. Here she is, our final contestant... the "Viking Vixen" Eveline Eriksen! [For a moment, there is only silence. Then... The Waitresses' "I Know What Boys Like" and Patty Donahue's jaded voice drones through her playful lyrics.] # I know what boys like # # I know what guys want # # I seen them looking # [Eveline walks out, tantalizingly swinging her hips in a white, loose, almost-transparent evening gown that reveals numerous hints of the racy and lacy lingerie beneath. She stops between a table and an upright mannequin. What... what kind of talent would require a mannequin?] # I make them want me # # I like to tease them # # They want to touch me # # I never let them # [The Nordic Narcissist removes her pumps and puts her hand on the mannequin's shoulder, then lunges up and twists in the air, wrapping her powerful legs around the mannequin's head in a scissor lock. Mmm... the hem of her gown slips down to expose the white garter belt... This is very... talented. Yes... talented... The kind of talent that makes men rise to the occasion...] # I know what boys like # # I know what guys want # # I know what boys like # # I've got what boys like # [Now hanging upside down, her healthy cleavage enhanced by gravity, Eveline reaches for a bowl placed on the table, retrieving a red cherry and smoothly pushes it between her soft, moistened lips and... and pops it in her mouth... oooh... ] # But you you're special (I might let you) # # You're so much different (I might let you) # # Oooh would you like that? (I might let you) # [Must... must... think about baseball or something... Her silky legs tighten, constricting the mannequin in a blissful choke, harder and harder until... *POP~!* The mannequin's head flies through the air and bounces on the stage twice before rolling down the entrance ramp. The Viking Vixen flips back to her feet, and retrieves the cherry from her pursed lips... a knot now tied in the fruit's tail (Unlike large number of straightened, hardened tails in the audience).] CD: Eveline Eriksen, everyone! [The Waitresses' new wave hit fades out, and... no one claps. Everywhere, mouths are still agape. Slush suddenly falls to his knees and venerates the Norwegian wrestler, bowing adoringly before her. Meanwhile, she slips back into her high heels, straightens her gown, blows Slush a kiss and struts out. Finally, fans begin to clap, yet... the mesmerizing spell of the performance now broken, most are left to wonder. Did... did that actually count as a talent? Does it matter if it isn't a talent at all? What hides a boner best, foam finger or plastic title belt?] CD: Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for watching the Miss Morality 2010 Evening Gown Talent Competition, and stay tuned! Later on, live on Rampage Bloody Rampage, Mothers Opposing Pornography sponsor the crowning of the very first Miss Morality!! [The crowd applauds, Chastity Davenport primly waves at the camera, Slush rises to his feet, covering his groin... and the image fades back to the luxury suite where both Moe and Scud look... confused (Copyright Orbit).] MO: ... Scud: ... MO: Think I have a shot with her? Scud: Not a chance in Hell. MO: Figures. Scud: Let's move on while we get ourselves together. [The camera cuts to the backstage area. Here, we find Erik Grimsson wandering down the hallway, limping through a group of onlooking staff members. Dressed for action, Erik wears a pair of ripped white jeans with iron cross designs printed on them, a black "Korzus- Ties of Blood" longsleeve t-shirt, black Nike amateur wrestling shoes, and his custom black leather shinpads. Rounding out with his long, blonde hair worn down and straight, both hands wrapped in white tape, and a large knee brace on his left leg, Erik looks as though he's looking for someone.] *THUUD!* [The sound seems to almost echo throughout the hallway, despite the piles of equipment lining both sides, and people moving in every direction.] *THUUUD!* [With every step Erik takes, the sound grows louder.] *THUUUUD!* [And louder.] *THUUUUUD!* [Until the hall opens up into a large space. And it is then that we zero in on the source of all this racket. A crowd has gathered around a pillar, struck by awe at the sight before them. There, kicking the pillar with all his might, is Ronan Benedict. The Grand Rapids, Michigan native is also dressed for the approaching fight, sporting a short- sleeved black War Hounds "Proud American Assholes Tour" t-shirt, forest green camouflage patterned pants, black kickpads, and black boots on his feet. Both wrists and hands are also wrapped in white athletic tape, whereas his pants are sporting a couple tears at the point of impact. Hard at work, Ronan doesn't seem to even notice the crowd around him, as sweat streams down his shoulder-length dark red hair and bearded face. He doesn't even notice Erik approaching.] *THUUUUUD!* [Seeing his target, Erik stops, cups his hands and shouts.] Erik: Hey, Benedict! [Hearing his family name being called, Ronan finally stops his assault on the pillar and glances over toward Erik. Recognizing his partner for the evening, Ronan abandons his preparations and steps toward him.] RB: I'd shake your hand, but... [He looks down at his hand, which is also pretty soaked with sweat.] RB: ...That probably wouldn't be a good idea. [He wipes both hands off on his camos.] RB: In any case, don't you know we tend to prefer first names? [Erik puts a hand up understandingly.] Erik: I hear you, dude. Anyway, Ronan, what's this [BLEEP] I hear about us tagging together against the Problem Solvers? You know about this? [Ronan nods.] RB: Sure I do. Wouldn't be sweatin' my ass off over here if I didn't. Can't say I'm too thrilled about it, but it's a paycheck. What's the big deal about it, anyway? [Erik clearly looks annoyed.] Erik: Dammit, I really wish Kyle would talk to me about this [MEEP] before he just decides it. I so don't want or need anybody's help dealing with those two [MEEP]holes! So anyway, dude, I guess you have the night off. [Ronan runs a hand through his drenched hair, trying to cool off. Finally, after thinking a moment about what Erik has said, he shakes his head.] RB: I do, huh? [He chuckles. There's no humor whatsoever in it.] RB: Do you think I actually _want_ to be in this match? That I'd even consider helping a whiny little pissant like you? 'Cause here's a wake- up call for ya', Erik... I don't. There was a time when I would, sure, but you used to be a good man then. You found good in my sister, when nobody else would even look. But now look at you... You're a f[BLEEP]kin' hypocrite. You bitch and moan 'cause people are tellin' you what to do, making matches without your approval. [Ronan steps closer toward Erik, getting in his face.] RB: And then you think you can do the exact same thing to me? Uh uh. I don't know what you're smokin', buddy, but it ain't gonna' fly with me. [Erik folds his arms across his chest, now scowling at Ronan.] Erik: Dude, first of all, I don't remember asking you if it flew with you or not. And if you don't get up out of my face right now, you're going to be the thing that gets smoked. [Suffice it to say, Ronan isn't amused.] RB: You want me outta' your face, jackass? [Backing up slightly, Ronan flips him off.] RB: You got it. And save your threats, 'cause I damn sure ain't carryin' your ass to the ring. [Erik now points at Ronan, firing back at him angrily.] Erik: And I'm so not interested in carrying your ass IN the ring, [BLEEP] bag! So find someone else's curttails to ride! [Ronan actually laughs AT Erik now.] RB: You know what, dude? Maybe you should just grow up. [And with that, Ronan shoves past Erik, heading towards the ring. As Ronan goes, Erik turns and shoves him from behind.] Erik: [MEEP] you, Benedict! RB: What a bitch. [Fade.] MO: And that's a partnership that has "smooth sailing" written all over it. Just what is Erik Grimsson thinking? Scud: His processes right now... I think they're more like an animal's. Instinct. Rage. Survival. Bloodlust. MO: What makes you say that? Scud: My life experiences are much like an animal's. Instinct. Fear. Self preservation. MO: Regardless, Erik is now even more enraged with Crimson and his one man war against Crimson and the Hand of Doom would go smoother if he accepted a little help. Scud: Sisters gotta do it for herself. Or.. brother... himself... whatever. MO: Confusion is a way of life here, isn't it? Scud: I learned years ago not to fight it. [We fade back to the classroom. Pablo and Stephanie are at their desks watching what is developing before them. Tara Marshall, also at her desk, can't help but snicker. What do they see? An extremely angry Tesla St. James in profile, staring upward at something off camera.] TSJ: I hope you're [MEEP]ing joking. [And from off camera comes the voice of Dr. John.] NJM: Surely, this is not a joke. To get past your anger, we must confront your anger Tesla. [The camera pans back and we see what Tesla is staring a hole into. Dr. John... ...wearing a lifelike buffalo head. Remember Mantaur?] NJM: We must confront your rage against the poor, docile buffalo. TSJ: Are you insane? I have no problem with buffalos! NJM: All the reports and eye witness accounts say otherwise. They say you hate this noble creature with a passion. Look into its eyes. How can you hate a face like this? TSJ: Easy if it talks with your voice. NJM: Breakthrough! You've admitted your rage! That is the first step. TSJ: I haven't admitted to anything! If anything, I get mad when people use the "Buffalo" nickname! NJM: And why is that? What is your secret resentment against the mighty bison? TSJ: I have nothing against them! [Looking to amuse herself, Tara Marshall chimes in.] TSM: Because she has the same track record in championships as Buffalo. [Tesla shoots a fiery look at Tara.] TSJ: Shut it! TSM: Oh I'm sorry. Could it be your buffalo sized hips? [Tesla is pretty much ready to leap over her desk and strangle Tara but the good Doctor holds her back.] NJM: Ladies, ladies. Don't let your anger get in the way. Tara, please stand up. [Rolling her eyes, Tara does as the doctor asks.] NJM: Now, as seeing as both of you are natives of Toronto, Ontario, how about you two hug to show national solidarity. TSJ: I'm from Hamilton, you jackwagon! TSM: Figures. Typical Hamilton Tiger-Cat inferiority complex. TSJ: Says that Argonaut loving whore! NJM: Ladies! This is not healthy! Come on now hug! [Clearly neither woman wants to do that.] NJM: Go on. Hug. [Reluctantly, Tesla and Tara take angry steps closer to one another and embrace each other in what can only be described as a half hearted hug.] NJM: Good, good. Now... kiss. [And that tears it. Both Tara and Tesla lunge for the buffalo head covered Dr. John and presumably, bodily harm may follow. Fade.] Scud: Little known fact, there was a time when Tawni tried to get me to be in a tag team with "Nuclear" John Bomber. MO: Sounds... "special." What was the team going to be called? Scud: "Missle Command." MO: Odd choice. Scud: That's nothing. She had uniforms made... Dark days.... MO: Up next is an introduction to a recent signee to the UWF. With the unfortunate termination of Liam Cassidy a spot opened up on the roster, and... well, we ended up with this guy. [Prerecorded backstage, Moe Owens is standing by next to the UWF/MBC's newest face, which is incidentally covered by a dark red lucha mask decorated with avian motifs. Even though he's hunched over, the man has an athletic build and what looks like a friendly disposition.] MO: Folks, he has been setting a lot of Mexican leagues on fire, and now, the UWF/MBC is proud to welcome into it's growing ranks another fine product of the traditional lucha libre school of wrestling, El Cóndor Carmesí. [Moe tentatively turns to the luchador next to him.] MO: Err... Hola, El Cóndor. CC: ¡Hola! MO: Hi, ha! Ha! [Moe nervously loosens his collar.] MO: Err... como...que es... usted? CC: I don't who Ted is either, man. MO: You speak English? CC: Dude, I'm from Bridgeport. My Spanish sucks, too, which is why you can call me Carmine Condor. MO: But your lucha mask... your bio said you never wrestled outside of Mexico! CC: I'm a proud luchador, alright...but if you're looking for the whitest white guy outside of Ireland... guilty as charged. MO: And yet you're a luchador? CC: I am. It's in Mexico that I discovered wrestling, and so I ended up learning the craft in a small Acapulco gym. First day was September twenty third two thousand six, I believe. Since I'm American, they saw me and figured I was going to become El Águila Americana - the American Eagle - and fly high from one side of the ring to the other. [The Carmine Condor nods.] CC: So after months of training, my mentors decided I was ready, and I had earned the right to become a real luchador, and begin my career in lucha libre. They would give me my lucha mask, and give me my lucha name, and I would become one of them. That was April fourth o-seven by my recollection. That's when I got this red mask, and the name of Carmine Condor. MO: Not American Eagle? CC: No, man. They saw me wrestle and figured early on that it wouldn't work. MO: Why not? CC: The eagle... it's a regal and majestic bird, and it soars through the air with speed, power and grace. Now, the condor has speed and power, too... but it's kind of ugly looking. MO: Interesting. CC: You may have noticed but I sort of have bad posture. I ain't no hunchback of Notre Dame, but I'd have a tough time falling in line in boot camp, I'll tell you that much! [It's true... the masked man has remained slightly hunched over from the moment he began speaking out of his mouth hole.] CC: That's how it is with my high flying, man. Speed, height, and power, but no grace. The ugliest pescados you'll ever see will probably be mine, and you're not likely to see a plancha as ungainly as my own. Heck, my very best move was a frog splash from the top rope. I squashed a lot of guys like cucarachas with it. But you see, when I made my debut at the Arena Coliseo of Monterrey, on Saturday April seventh two-k-seven, when the play by play announcer saw my rendition of the frog splash, he felt it looked so darned ugly it could only be called the Toad Splash. MO: Toad Splash? CC: It wasn't a compliment, but the name caught on and helped me stand out of the lot down South. I'm hoping it can do the same for me up here! MO: But if your high flying is so bad... CC: No, no, no. Don't go judging a book by it's cover, my man! Sure, my aerials are so ugly only their mommy could love 'em, but they're far from bad! Flying across the ring with the grace of an epileptic camel doesn't mean I miss the target. No matter how ugly they look, I hit my moves spot on, my friend. Spot on. When I land on a guy, odds are he's not getting back up fast enough. MO: And now, you'll be bringing your own unique brand of lucha to the UWF/MBC? CC: I am, and I'm stoked! July thirty first twenty ten, my friend, I've got myself a brand new contract to start a brand new chapter to my young career. Here I can learn from the best, guys like Tommy Stephens, Gabriel Whitecross, Juan Vasquez, Gamma Ray, Tumaffi and so many others. I'll learn from them, and from my mistakes. And when I get knocked down I'll keep picking myself back up, because that's the lucha way, my man. And I'll keep on learning and learning until I too am one of the best. [In a friendly gesture, Carmine Condor claps Moe on the shoulder.] CC: Soon, the UWF/MBC will witness the flight of the condor, and I can't wait! MO: Well, there you have it! The newest addition to the UWF/MBC locker room, American luchador Carmine Condor! [Condor wraps his arm around Moe's shoulder in a brotherly hug, and the reporter smiles as the image fades out.] Scud: No offense, but at least Cassidy comes by looking like a hobo by nature, you know you can't trust him. What's with that guy and the mask? MO: How do you mean? Scud: Seems like he's got something to hide. How ugly is he? MO: Moving on, we have our first match of the Countdown. Rather than dark match highlights, we're going to cover a match live. This one in particular is an Empress Cup Match between our very own House of Throwdowns recapper Scottie Saratoga and one half of the MBC Psycho Driver Tag Team Champions Fiona Cassidy. Scud: Both women have one win in their group and whoever wins this match will very likely move on to the second round. A tie wouldn't hurt either. MO: Saratoga defeated Kathryn Elyson last RBR and injured her in the process. Still no word as to who Elyson's replacement will be. Scud: And though a bit questionable method wise, Cassidy picked up a win over Tesla St. James at one of the recent house shows. MO: We'll have to see if Deanna Orlofski and Taryn Weller make as much of an impact tonight as they did then. ======================== EMPRESS CUP MATCH ======================== SCOTTIE SARATOGA versus FIONA CASSIDY ======================== It was obvious in the opening moments of the match that Saratoga was concerned with the presence of both Taryn Weller and Deanna Orlofski. But even Scottie could see that Cassidy wasn't one-hundred percent on board with Dee-O being ringside. Weller was adamant about showing solidarity and Orlofski was there to support that. That and to show off her new shoes, which Debbie Henshall found quite smashing. As for the match itself, Cassidy took the early advantage, keeping Saratoga stunned and backed to the ropes and corner. But Scottie wasn't going to let that keep her back. She gritted her teeth and fought back hard as if this was the match that would make her career. Given the ultimate goal, it very well could be but that's for historians to decide. As the match teetered back and forth, Orlofski got more and more vocal until finally she started to stick her nose into the match itself. Weller joined along, causing a distraction. But the distraction was not for Saratoga. Cassidy found herself telling her own partner to keep quiet and in doing so, Scottie caught her into a roll up from behind. WINNER BY PINFALL: Scottie Saratoga ======================== MO: And Scottie Saratoga now has a commanding 2-0 record in the group round. Scud: But she has to face Tesla St. James, which won't be an easy win. MO: That goes without... [At this point, Scud and Moe are interrupted by somebody... somebody who must have something very important to say or this interrupting wouldn't be occurring! Somebody who is no doubt unhappy about something, given the look on this somebody's face. Somebody who certainly loves to hog the spotlight. Somebody who has a high opinion of herself... and "herself" narrows down this person's identity a bit. Somebody named "The American Idol" Amber Rogers.] AR: [to Scud] Ryan! It's about time I found you! [She then turns to Moe.] And I guess you're just an intern. MO: Intern? BSM: Um... what can we do for you, Amber? [Amber puts her hands on her hips, as if she can't believe Scud would ask such a question.] AR: What can you do for me? What can _you_ do for _me_? You can send a message to our women's commissioner that she may say she's starting fresh with everyone, but she's certainly holding a grudge against me! BSM: What are you talking about? AR: The Empress Cup, Ryan! It should be obvious that a true star like me should be front and center in this competition! And who do they bring in? Women that couldn't even possibly compare to me... who don't even come to close to grabbing the headlines that I draw! MO: Well, I suppose... AR: [turning abruptly to Moe] I'm talking to Ryan... why don't you butt out and do whatever an intern is supposed to do... not that I would know because I'm a star in this business! [Moe just sighs and shakes his head.] AR: [turning back to Scud] Now, Ryan, it's so obvious why Tara Smith would do this to me... when I dedicated that song to her and exposed the truth to everyone about how she just abandoned all the fans out there, when she decided to come back, she just had to find a way to take it out on me! What better way to do that than to deny me the right to compete for the Empress Cup! BSM: Well, I would imagine that... AR: [interrupting] There's nothing to imagine... it's all right there in front of your eyes! She's jealous of me and my superior talents and she wants to deny my legions of fans, the Idolizers who come night after night to see me perform, their right to see their favorite star in action! I mean... they relegated me to the house shows! [She throws up her hands as if she can't believe it.] AR: I am not house show fodder... I am the star and I demand the biggest stage! And next Rampage Bloody Rampage, I'm taking that stage... when I debut my latest single and let all my Idolizers around the world enjoy what I have to offer! Believe me, Ryan, Tara Smith will then learn to never lie again about people getting a fresh start with her! Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to finalize a new contract with my agent! [She then is about to turn away, but then stops, turning to the camera for a moment.] AR: And to all my fans watching at home... no matter how people here treat me, I still love you all! [She then blows a kiss to the camera and then departs.] MO: Why does she call you Ryan? Scud: I don't know. You tell me, intern. MO: I don't think I've ever met a young man so bitter. Scud: You know the people I work for. MO: This... is true. [We cut to the classroom yet again. Tesla St. James has her arms crossed as she sits in her chair looking agitated. Tara Marshall keeps looking at her watch and giving exhausted looks at the front of the room. Stephanie Delacroix sits with an encouraging smile on her face, nodding her head alot. And as we pan around, standing in front of the classroom is Pablo O'Connor giving suspicious glances to Nuclear Dr. John, pacing around him.] NDJ: You're in a Mexican restaraunt, Pablo. They bring you the wrong order of tacos. You're upset because usually this place makes tacos just like your mother's. You tell the waiter and they shrug and walk off. How do you handle this situation? [Pablo's eye twitches furiously while Stephanie shakes her head in a panic. O'Connor takes a deep breath, holds it... Continues to hold the air... and then... long, hard exhale.] POC: First off, if you couldn't tell by my pale complexion, brown hair and gray blue eyes my mother is not Mexican. [Nuclear Dr. John nods his head.] NDJ: We can talk about your parent issues in another class, Pablo. Right now work through the situation. [Pablo eyes John angrily then closes his eyes and smirks.] POC: OK. I grab the little bowl with the salsa. NDJ: Interesting. POC: I stand up out of my chair. NDJ: Hmmm.. POC: I grab the waiter by their hair.. NDJ: Oh no.. POC: I yank them down onto the table by their hair where the back of their head hits really hard! NDJ: Wait... POC: And I take the salsa bowl and I GRIND it into their face! Like with blood and salsa going all over the table! NDJ: No.. POC: And as they cry and scream for mercy I ask my wife to grab the salt so we can pour it on their wounds... NDJ: Pablo. Have you not listened to the sessions we did with Tesla and Tara? [Pablo looks at John for a moment, then glances over at the faces of Tesla and Tara, then looks back at John.] POC: Yes. NDJ: Hmm.. I think the problem here is this scenario hits too close to home with your parental issues... POC: MY PARENTS ARE NOT MEXICAN! [Nuclear Dr. John pulls out his clipboard and takes some notes then flashes a smile.] NDJ: Let's try a different scenario! [An audible groan comes up from everyone in the room.] NDJ: Pablo, you have to go to work. It's very late. You kiss your wife goodbye and you get into your car. You turn it on and as you pull out of the driveway you notice something.. Your hydraulics aren't working and your car is not bouncing up and down like you are use to. Your neighbor passes by, his car bouncing just fine and he laughs at you. What do you do? [The sound of Pablo's teeth grinding fills the room. Stephanie buries her face in her hands.] POC: I'M NOT MEXICAN YOU IDIOT! [Pablo's hands reach out to grab Nuclear John by his coat but Pablo stops himself and just shakes his hands in anger. Nuclear John looks confused.] NDJ: You scream this at your neighbor? [Steam and fire would shoot out of Pablo's ears if he was a cartoon.] POC: WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?! YOU MAKE ME WANT TO MURDER YOU AND EVERYONE INSIDE THIS ROOM WHO'S NOT MY WIFE! *GASP* [Everyone is taken aback! Pablo realizes what he just blurted out and he slowly turns to look at the horrified faces looking up at him. Pablo tries to smile.] POC: It's.. an expression. I ah.. didn't mean it. NDJ: Hmmm... [Nuclear Dr. John begins writing again.] NDJ: Pablo, I think maybe I need to have a seperate, private session with you. Some of my colleagues would be there as well. I don't think we can work out your issues in this setting. And.. [Nuclear John gives Pablo a look over.] NDJ: I'm going to suggest drug testing because I suspect you are using steroids. [Pablo looks surprised.] POC: Do what now? NDJ: Five feet eleven inches tall, two hundred twenty five pounds.. I've seen your promo photographs.. Your arms are kind of huge. POC: Ah... I may have used them years ago. *GASP* [Tesla St. James and Tara Marshall look shocked at this admission. Stephanie shrugs.] SD: We wanted to get out of the light heavyweight thing! POC: Yeah, but I haven't used them in years and years! NDJ: Well, we'll let the test I'm signing you up for decide. Now please take your seat and let your wife come up here. [Pablo hangs his head, ashamed and exposed, and goes back to his seat and Tesla, sitting next to him, looks uneasy. Pablo rolls his eyes.] POC: It was just an expression! I'm not going to murder anyone! [Tesla scooches over in her desk as far away as she can.] NDJ: Save it for our next session Pablo. Now, Stephanie.. [Stephanie takes a deep sigh and walks up to the front of the room.] SD: Ok. NDJ: Relax Stephanie. I can understand, being the wife of a roid rage machine can be stressful and lead you to your own anger issues... [Pablo's fists seem to quiver and his teeth grind, which draws worried glances between Tesla and Tara.] NDJ: But we're here to deal with managing those issues. Now, I'm going to give you a scenario.. SD: Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. Get to it! NDJ: Just calm down Stephanie.. [Stephanie narrows her eyes.] SD: That's Mrs. O'Connor to you! NDJ: Ok, Mrs. O'Connor-Delacroix, now listen to the scenario... SD: ... NDJ: You come home from the store, you've bought groceries to make a wonderful meal for you and your husband tonight. As you unload the groceries you hear your dogs making alot of noise. You go to see what is going on and discover.. They've torn your favorite bunny rabbit costume to pieces. SD: Bunny rabbit costume? NDJ: You were planning on using that costume for after the dinner, in the bedroom.. SD: What? WHAT?! NDJ: Your dogs have torn apart your favorite animal costume Stephanie, what do you do? How do you handle this? [Pablo jumps up out of his desk, which startles Tesla and Tara since they think O'Connor wants to murder everyone.] POC: HOW DARE YOU TALK TO MY WIFE IN SUCH FASHION?! [Nuclear John motions for Pablo to sit down.] NDJ: Pablo, please, stop being so controlling and let your wife have a successful session. [Stephanie's face is incredibly pale from shock at what she's been asked and she slowly turns to Nuclear John.] SD: You think I wear animal costumes in the bedroom? NDJ: Hold on a minute Mrs. Delacroix-O'Connor, we will get into your animal fetish and it's connection to your problems managing your anger in just a moment, first your husband needs to sit down and stop dragging you down as his enabler. POC: I should KILL you right now! [Tesla and Tara, again look concerned.] NDJ: Pablo, I think I'm going to have to call for someone to escort you out of the room so we can have a successful session between your wife, Tesla, Tara and myself about your wife's bedroom issues with animal costumes. [Tesla, Tara and Pablo all look stunned at this. Stephanie's complexion begins to turn to a deep red.] NDJ: The ladies and me will work out these anger issues.. NUCLEAR STYLE! [Pablo grabs his desk and yanks it up into the air and..] *SWOOSH* *CRASH* [Nuclear John moves out of the way as the desk crashes against the front wall! Tesla and Tara jump out of their desks, while Stephanie continues to turn red and shake in anger.] NDJ: Come over to me ladies! I'll protect you NUCLEAR STYLE! *SWOOSH* *SMASH* NDJ: ERGH! [The deadliest pitcher of objects in managing history, Stephanie Delacroix, recalling past object pitching glories from her career, has rocketed a mug that sat on a desk against Nuclear John's head! John falls to his knees holding his head and Pablo stalks forward.] POC: I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL EVERYONE! [Poor choice of words as now Tesla and Tara are FIGHTING to be the first to get to the door and out of this room that could turn into a crime scene! And wouldn't you know, their anger is getting in the way of escaping... *CRASH* Furniture is toppled over as the two women fight while trying to escape. Desks break, a hole gets punched into the wall, all is not well. Meanwhile... *KICK* [Pablo kicks Nuclear John to the ground and Stephanie goes for her purse to no doubt get more objects. As Pablo goes to mount Dr. John and rain punches down the door flies open, sending Tesla St. James and Tara Marshall to the ground in a pile of brawling, and men in lab coats begin to flood into the room and get a hold of O'Connor and pull him off of Nuclear John.] POC: LET ME AT HIM! LET ME AT EVERYONE! I'LL BLOW UP THE ENTIRE WORLD! SD: LET HIM GO! [Stephanie jumps onto a lab coated man's back and begins clawing at his face! More lab coated men flood into the room and the scene fades with angry sounds echoing in the darkness! We fade to backstage where we find the two leaders of the referees union, aka RUTABEGA, walking down a corridor. Bartholomew Prevert and Les Ewich are both dressed in suits and ties, Les carrying a folder of papers in his hand. And the two have evidently found the person they wish to speak with... UWF head referee Jim Junas, who is talking to one of the backstage workers.] BP: Excuse me, Mr. Junas. [Jim turns to the RUTABEGA heads.] JJ: Yeah... oh, it's you guys. You all still on strike. LE: Of course... we must make the message clear to Mr. Lee that what has been happening here in this place rests on his shoulders and that we referees are not going to stand for it. BP: And that is why we wish to talk to you. JJ: Me? About what? [Prevert puts a hand on Junas' shoulder.] BP: Mr. Junas... I think you know exactly what we are talking about. We outlined a lot of our grievances with this company, but nothing has been addressed. And as we have witnessed recently, things are still not being addressed. LE: The Guard continues to run around like they are the owners of this place, rather than just the thugs they are. Wrestlers continue to ignore directives from referees like you who are just doing their jobs. And more wrestlers on top of that are interjecting themselves into whatever they think happens to be their business. BP: It should be obvious, Mr. Junas, that you UWF referees need just as much backup as the MBC referees do. [Les then hands Junas the folder of papers.] LE: We simply ask you to go over this information with your fellow UWF referees and learn about what we can do for you. JJ: Why would I or the other UWF referees want you to do anything for us? Besides, we've heard the stories about how referees were corrupted in MBC... do I really want that spilling over into my crew, who has done an exemplary job through the yeras? BP: Mr. Junas... it's not about the job your crew has been doing. It is about the lack of respect given for that job. Think about how many times you were unable to control two wrestlers who wouldn't listen to your requests... who blamed you for everything that went wrong in a match... and who have tossed you out of the ring or otherwise put their hands on you simply because you were trying to do your job as you were supposed to do. [With that, Les slips something else to Junas... what appears to be a business card, slipped into Junas' shirt pocket.] LE: We'll be in touch... but if you think about it for a few minutes, I'm sure you will come to the same conclusion. You need our backing... and you need to be respected for the job you do. [With that, Prevert and Ewich walk off. Junas glances at the folder of papers for a moment.] JJ: Hmmm. [Fade out.] MO: Well, that's the last thing we need. Scud: You mean other than Slush parading around naked? MO: That too... wait... that's happened hasn't it. Scud: There's a reason the MBC has the largest Human Resources Department in the industry. We need them to handle all the crazy. MO: So I hear. Scud: A whole division is dedicated to handling Slush. MO: I don't think they're doing a very good job of it given what he gets away with. Scud: They're a surly bunch. I hear they're finally resorting to a shock collar. MO: I'd pay to see that. Scud: So would a lot of people. That's why that whole division won "Employee of the Month." MO: Well Scott Daniels isn't a guy anyone would have pegged as employee of the month for most of his career. But this company has Scott to thank for the return of Trey DaMann and the UWF World Heavyweight Championship after last week. |
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| KliqerT | Nov 9 2010, 03:57 PM Post #2 |
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Doughy
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[The screen fades in on the night sky of Chicago. We are outside on a street and it appears to be late at night due to the lack of traffic on the street, or passers walking by. We are outside of an Italian restaurant... The Original Gino's East of Chicago to be precise. There is a patio, and while busboys are taking down umbrellas and hanging the chairs upside down, there are a few people still enjoying a late night slice. Including two people of remote interest to the UWF and MBC. Two members of the original UWF roster, "Hellraiser" Tom Landis and Scott "Hotspot" Daniels are sitting at a table, eating some deep dish pizza and splitting a pitcher of beer. They are both "off duty" and appear in their normal every day clothes and appear to have their guard down. Our camera is far back enough that it is not visible, but the superior technology of our production crew's high end boom mic is able to pick up the conversation. SD: I know... I admit, the result of the match wasn't quite how I wanted it to go down... But the end result was still the same, and the plan came together. I'll give all the credit to DaMann because that kid can bring it like no other. But he's stupid, and that caught up to him. TL: Did you hear that it worked? SD: How so? TL: Yeah, he signed the contact in his limo. [Scott takes a sip of beer and smiles.] SD: Wow. So that worked even better than I expected. TL: Well, Heaven and Hell should be a heck of a lot more interesting, that's for sure. [The two men raise their glasses and share a toast. Scott takes a bit out of the slice of pizza in front of him.] SD: My God Tom, you weren't kidding. This pizza is amazing. TL: I told you, Chiacgo's best right here. [pause] You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're still stewing about something. What's up? Did Trey get to you? [Scott runs a hand through his slick, greasy hair as he ponders for a moment.] SD: No, I'm okay with what happened. And Trey got his tonight, and will continue to get his. Whitecross will see to that and I'm at peace with it. TL: [grins] You, at peace with anything other than a world championship? Then what is it? SD: Just... I dunno. The state of things in that locker room. It's alarming how bad things have gotten. [Tom sets down his beer and fires a pondering look at Scott.] TL: How bad they've gotten? How so? I thought Lee has been doing a pretty good job, all things considered. SD: Yeah, he is trying. It's not that though. Maybe it's just because I've been away for a while. But that locker room... Backstage. It's not the same as it was a few years ago. It's a hell of a lot worse and it's kind of depressing how things have gotten. TL: Well I'll try not to take offense to that. SD: No, it's not something you can do about it. I guess I just didn't realize how bad things were until I got there. I just can't wrap my head around him, and he infuriates me. TL: Who? SD: That godawful super hero... What is his deal? TL: Who? Gamma Ray? Oh... I couldn't put it into words if I tried. SD: You know... I almost feel like he's mocking me, right to my face. I swear it's like he's asking for it... Begging for it even. TL: Who's the one with ego issues again? SD: Quiet you... I'm just saying that every time I offered to Lee to go for it... It's like. Well... He doesn't even know who I am. Which is bull[BLEEP], because every time he talks about the veterans, you know exactly who he was pointing a finger at. He never says my name once, but deep down? We know who he was talking about. And then the stunt tonight with the ring? Come on.... TL: [shrugs] Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery? SD: He's got to realize that when we did it, we had a purpose. We were trying to keep the disrespectful little jackasses from rising up to power, because we knew it would be bad for the business. You know? And now look what's happened. We go our own ways and do our own things, and like a virus, these guys have seeped in and corrupted everything. Look at that locker room. There is no group anymore. It's all about the stars and whatever they can milk out of their contracts. It's what's good for them, and nothing else. Every time the camera is on 'em, it's like a pissing contest. See who can get the most air time. See whose face is plastered over the show the most. I'd like to think that when the spotlight was on us, we at least backed it up and delivered it in the ring, where it matters. [Scott takes another swig of beer.] SD: Oh, and you have the two camps... MBC and UWF. I appreciate what Lee's trying to do, but that's like oil and water. The two just don't mix. Things are barely hanging on because of Lee and what he's trying to do, and Gamma Ray is just exploiting that fact to further his own interests. Something's gotta give Tom, and it's pretty obvious things are one step away from chaos. We might have another "Miami Incident" all over again. [Another swig.] SD: Ugh... Maybe I'm just getting too old for it. TL: Is it really any different from guys like Ryott or Courtade from the past? Exploitation is a part of the business, at least Lee's doing what he can to fight back against the uprising. SD: I suppose... I just don't get it Tom. It worries me, it really does, that we built the promotion up to such a level, and now the likes of Gamma Ray and Vasquez are just imploding everything we built. Every time I see that kumquat in the ring.. It just burns me up. I know Lee is doing his best trying to deal with him, but you just can't... You can't run two promotions and be able to focus one hundred percent on dealing with someone the likes of him. He needs to be put in his place, truly. And I love Lee and all, but I'm not sure if he can do it. And that's a fact Gamma Ray is just exploiting, pure and simple. TL: Well, I'd say do something about it but I guess your hands are tied. SD: Yeah, my per appearance deal is over with and frankly, I'm not sure I'd want to bother. They didn't ask me back, and I figure that was my swan song out there tonight. You reach a point where you have to look at it and ask yourself if it is worth it. I don't need the money, I don't need the fame. Things never turn out the way you expect 'em to, but when look back at it all... It was a Hell of a ride. I want to compete though. I still have that fire. Musashi over in Japan has been knocking at my door as of late. Might go for a change of scenery, if Kari is up for it. TL: A new world to conquer? [Scott lets out a big sigh.] SD: Yeah... But it might kill me to know that UWF is bleeding dry and I didn't do anything about it. [A waiter brings another pitcher of beer and takes the empty one away. Scott leans across the table and refills his and Tom's glass.] SD: So fill me in on this Crawford guy. What the hell is his problem again? TL: Damned if I know. Crawford's always been a crotchety old man, even back when he was a rookie. Since the merger he's taken a real 'us versus them' mentality, and for some reason he sees me as playing both sides. SD: Well, you can't deny your ties to both leagues. And you're one of the UWF's founding fathers.. TL: Yeah, and the UWF will always feel like home to me. After that many years here, how could it not? But I've been with MBC for more than a decade now too, and when I came back to action it wasn't the UWF's door I was knocking on, it was MBC's. Stan thinks he's MBC's judge, jury and executioner, but I'm its conscience. This is probably going to get real ugly, and soon. SD: Hrm. Well if anything goes down, you let me know, I'll be there. I'm worried that guys gonna take a shot at you and it's gonna count. TL: Thanks Scott, but this is something I need to prove to Stan without ghosts from my past showing up. [pause] Er, no offense. SD: Hey, I'm old, but I'm not that old... TL: Well old man, it's getting late and Tara and Kari are waiting at the club. You ready to get going? SD: Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for this Tom. Needed a good sounding board. TL: No worries man. I'll go settle the bill. You call the limo and get them to swing around in five, okay? [Daniels nods as he reaches for his glass to finish it's contents. Tom rises and heads inside to pay the bill. Scott pulls out his cell phone.] SD: Lance? Yeah. We're ready. [The camera gets a little closer on Scott as he contemplates things. Perhaps... a little too close. Because Daniels peers over and spots our camera. He looks visibly annoyed and he swigs the last of his beer. He stands up and tucks his chair in. The limousine can be seen pulling up to the sidewalk. Daniels approaches the limo as Lance Fredericks clumsily steps out of the driver's door and races around to open the back door for Scott. The former two time World champ pauses though and looks back at the camera again.] SD: You guys been there the whole time? [The camera bobs up and down as the camera person nods. That Cheshire Cat-like smirk appears.] SD: Good... [Daniels ducks into the limo as Lance patiently waits for Tom. Fade to black.] Scud: Hmm, I'm beginning to see what Stan Crawford's seeing. Tom Landis, who's side are you on? MO: Wait a minute, Scott and Tom have been friends for years, What's wrong with them catching up for old times sake? Scud: I'll remind you of that when they've planted a Pride flag in your backside, Moe. [The scene opens to the dressing room of Leanna Love. The young woman is stretching, preparing for her upcoming match. She's clad in a white, tank top and black sweats, her feet bare. Her blonde hair is parted in the middle and falls straight down her back. She tosses a look at the camera and frowns.] Leanna: To be honest with you, I don't give a [Meep] about the Empress Cup. [She stands to attention, folding her arms across her chest with a scowl.] Leanna: Because I'm here tonight to get my hands on that loud-mouthed, know-it-all, Gaia Basher. Gaia, this whole thing could have been different. We could actually have been friends. Until you opened up your big mouth and started talking about [Meep] that isn't any of your business! My sister and I were doing just fine before you came along. Sure, we've had our dry spells. But there's no team that can win ‘em all. And the Psycho Drivers were right around the corner for us. I know it. Then, you had to come along, play your little mind games, and ruin everything. [Leanna frowns, shaking her head in disgust.] Leanna: Now, I know that my little sister can more than handle herself. I've seen her go toe to toe with some of the toughest in this business. But that still doesn't mean that I won't come to her defense, when someone tries to screw with her. Especially when that someone is spouting a bunch of nonsense, lies, and half-truths at her expense. [The scowl returns, a flash of anger in her blue eyes.] Leanna: You claim that you were trying to help? Well, we didn't need it or ask for it. But tonight, you're going to need some. Because I'm not coming into this match to win. I'm coming to teach you a lesson. See, I don't take kindly to idiots trying to screw with the people I love. It gets me upset, angry, and ready to kick some [Meep]. So, prepare yourself, Gaia, because tonight you finally pay for getting involved in my family business. [Fade. We cut backstage, to find Moe Owens standing before a UWF/MBC backdrop.] MO: She's loved and respected by independent wrestling fans all around the country. But my guest this evening is only just starting to make her mark on the big stage of the UWF/MBC. [He motions to the side, and on cue, the indy legend herself steps into view.] MO: "The Bullhead" Gaia Brasher. GAIA: Thank you for that introduction, Moe. I'm confident that, given time, fans across the whole world will consider my name as being synonymous with professional wrestling. MO: Despite the very short time you've been here, your level of confidence continues to amaze me. Everything you have set out to achieve so far, you've achieved. First you drove the wedge between Leanna and Lolita Love-- GAIA: Let me cut you off there, Moe. I wasn't trying to create any wedge between them. The Loves are one of the most accomplished tag teams in women's wrestling history. And before they were a team, Leanna was a highly successful singles wrestler. Can you count the number of singles titles she held on one hand? MO: Well, um... no. GAIA: Exactly. Leanna was considered to be one of the best wrestlers in the business at that time. But she chose to take a step back from the singles spotlight to help establish her sister. I greatly respect that. At the end of the day, when we're all too old to wrestle anymore, our families will be the most important things in our lives. But how many years have the Love Sisters been together as a team, Moe? MO: Phew, that's a tough question. GAIA: It's a lot. And like I said, they're a great tag team. They've held countless titles together. But like myself, Leanna is getting on in years. So my sole intentions were to put the thought in her head that maybe she could reinvigorate her old singles career, but to also let her sister go to find out if she can be just as successful on her own. Personally, I have full confidence in her. But that's something she needs to discover on her own, without Leanna holding her hand all the time. MO: Well you may not have intended to drive a wedge between them, but one seems to be forming regardless. GAIA: It makes me proud that at least one of them has taken my advice to heart. MO: Do you take responsibility for causing friction between them? [Gaia ponders the question for a moment, before replying.] GAIA: I do, to an extent. This was all my idea. Nobody asked me for my opinion. And they certainly didn't want it when I gave it anyway. I'm very persistent like that. But at the same time, Leanna is also to blame. Her stubbornness is getting in the way of thinking clearly and doing what's best for her career and for her sister's. That's one thing we have in common - we don't give an inch without a fight. MO: Before we got sidetracked, I was going to point out that you went into your debut match against Tommy Jackson with the same confidence you're fast becoming known for. GAIA: Tommy is a world-class athlete. She's rough around the edges, and I don't know what she has in that bottle - whether it's booze, soda, or what - but she gets the job done on a consistent basis. She's no great technical wrestler, but technique don't make you a great wrestler. Nor do brawling or aerials, despite the fact that she can throw one Hell of a devastating punch. But I've seen other women over the years, who weren't great at anything. They didn't have the upper body strength to throw a solid punch, the intelligence to move from an armdrag into an armbar, and who are just too damn slow to make use of the turnbuckles effectively. Yet they're still widely considered to be great wrestlers. Why? Because the most important things they have, are heart and determination. And that's what makes Tommy a great wrestler too. It's why she wins everywhere she goes. MO: And yet... you now hold a victory over her. [Gaia nods.] GAIA: Everybody can be beaten, Moe. Tommy is no exception, and neither am I. But there's a big difference that separates the two of us. Tommy is a very good brawler, but that's her main source of offense. I'm much more well rounded. She has tremendous heart and determination, as do I. But I also have far more wisdom and experience to go along with it. And like I said, Tommy's a great wrestler... But I'm world-class. MO: Tonight you face Leanna Love in the Empress Cup tournament. What are your thoughts going into that match? GAIA: For starters, I can't wait. This is a match I have wanted for a very long time. More importantly than that, it's a chance to see how Leanna does in her return to singles action. And I'm sure she'll be looking to take a couple good shots at me for breaking up her team. But like my last match, I go into this one knowing two things. First, when she's motivated and at her best, Leanna is _not_ to be underestimated. And second, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I can beat her. She's frustrated and distracted. Who am I to show up out of the blue and ruin a perfectly good thing for her. But you know what, Moe? She's also rusty. Sure she and Lolita have had countless tag team matches in both the UWF and MBC, but how many singles matches has she had in the last ten years? And even then, how many times was Lolita at ringside watching her back? Lolita is finally starting to open her eyes to much broader possibilities. And as a result, Leanna is going to be all alone in there against a legend. Not good odds for her. MO: Well Gaia, I think that's all the questions I have. Thank you so much for your time. GAIA: One last thing, Moe... [He gestures for her to continue, and Gaia turns back toward the lens.] GAIA: When all is said and done, Leanna, and regardless who wins or loses - even though it'll be me, I hope you'll put this grievance behind you. It would be a shame to see you waste time on pointless animosity, when you could be moving up the singles ranks once again. Remember that I'm not trying to hurt you, Leanna; I'm trying to help you. Because after all... Mother knows best. [Gaia then moves off-screen, leaving Moe alone.] MO: She certainly is dedicated, I'll give her that. [Fade.] ======================== EMPRESS CUP MATCH ======================== GAIA BRASHER versus LEANNA LOVE ======================== Rarely before had anyone seen Leanna Love so aggressive. Though it even surprised Gaia Brasher, she was enough of a veteran to be able to cope. Still, Love's relentless attacks, fueled by anger, were nothing short of brutal and in many instances, highly uncharacteristic. Tactics such as choking, gouging the eyes, hair pulling... all not in the Leanna Love arsenal were on full display today. The referee gave Love plenty of wiggle room with the tactics as it seemed that even he was caught off guard by the assault. Brasher though used the rage to her advantage. After a back and forth contest, Brasher turned one of Love's hate filled charges, ironically enough into a Death Valley Driver and covered to get the pinfall victory. WINNER BY PINFALL: Gaia Brasher ======================== MO: I don't think I've seen Leanna Love so... so... Scud: Hannah Hate? MO: Not the term I would have used but... I guess it works. Scud: It must really take a lot to piss off somebody with the name of Love. MO: Unless they're tired of hearing what you just said. Scud: People get tired of what I say all the time. MO: No kidding. Scud: Can we just move on and be done with this misery? MO: Let's take a look at the Empress Cup standings. GROUP A W L T Pts ---------------------------------- Kiora Donavon | 1 | 0 | 1 | 4 | Amazing Grace | 1 | 0 | 1 | 4 | Felicity Malone | 1 | 1 | 0 | 3 | Georgia Church | 0 | 2 | 0 | 0 | MO: I'm thinking this is the closest race of all the groups. Church is pretty much out of the running but in her match against Amazing Grace, she could play spoiler. Scud: I think any and all Hand of Doom fans will be salivating when they see Kiora Donavon and Felicity Malone face off. It's the old queen versus the new queen. GROUP B W L T Pts ---------------------------------- Scottie Saratoga | 2 | 0 | 0 | 6 | Fiona Cassidy | 1 | 1 | 0 | 3 | Tesla St. James | 0 | 1 | 0 | 0 | Kathryn Elyson | 0 | 1 | 0 | 0 | MO: Scottie has a commanding lead here. But it's hard to say what direction this group will go until we know who is replacing Kathryn Elyson. GROUP C W L T Pts ---------------------------------- Miyuki Ozaki | 1 | 0 | 1 | 4 | Brianna Landis | 1 | 0 | 1 | 4 | Dalbello Rage | 1 | 1 | 0 | 3 | Eveline Eriksen | 0 | 2 | 0 | 0 | MO: Another wide open group, though I'm surprised Eveline Eriksen sits at the bottom here. Scud: I think we can safely say that Summer Blame is quite pleased? MO: Seeing as how she had a hand in both of Eriksen's losses, I would say so. GROUP D W L T Pts ---------------------------------- Gaia Brasher | 2 | 0 | 0 | 6 | Leanna Love | 1 | 1 | 0 | 3 | Tommy Jackson | 1 | 1 | 0 | 3 | Johanna Suprema | 0 | 2 | 0 | 0 | MO: And here, Gaia Brasher is sitting pretty. With a draw or a win, she can clinch. Scud: I'm sure Leanna is still stinging over that loss. She'll be stinging over it for a while. MO: Wait a second...I hear there's something going on backstage... [The scene fades backstage to a prone Gaia Basher, laid out facedown on the floor. Standing over her is a woman clad in a black catsuit and mask, a metal pipe in her hand. The masked woman suddenly lashes out with the pipe, cracking Gaia across the back with it.] MO: Oh my...Gaia Basher's being attacked! We need to get somebody back there! [The masked woman snarls and rains down another blow across Gaia's back. She reaches down and grabs a handful of Gaia's hair, yanking her head back. She raises the pipe, preparing to smash her flush in the face!] MO: Security! [Sure enough, The Guard has raced to the scene. The masked woman quickly releases Gaia and slips off as the security officers check on Gaia.] MO: After a hard fought match with Leanna Love, Gaia Basher is attacked! Something tells me that these two events have to be related. Scud: Stranger things have happened. MO: As we get more information, we'll be sure to pass it along. I think that'll do it for- no, wait. I'm getting word we have to go back down into the arena, something's happening. [A loud gong rings out through the Time Warner Cable Arena as the lights go black. An intense drum beat kicks in as we witness various scenes of destruction on the Megatron. As blood appears to be oozing down overtop the images, the word EPITOME flashes on screen as the rest of "Hands of Death" by Rob Zombie & Alice Cooper kicks in.] DR: And here comes the Epitome of Evil. SS: Wahoo! What a year it's been, and the fact that this guy is back destroying people makes it all the more awesome. [A red crimson spotlight shines down on the mouth of the ramp, just below the Megatron. Clad in black pants and a black dress shirt, left unbuttoned at the top and sleeves rolled up, stands the origin of violence, Serge Annis. His legs are pressed together as he stands tall and extends his arms out to the sides, head hung low in his crucifixion pose. After suitable time, he slams his hands down to the sides and shoots his head up, staring up the ceiling with a menacing scowl while a wall of flames erupts directly behind him from the rampway.] AM: Annis isn't scheduled to be out here, so God only knows what is on the mind of that maniac. DR: If I had to guess Amy, I'd have to say Tumaffi. The two have waged a war the likes we haven't seen in quite some time. I can't help but think that Tumaffi's dismal showing on House of Throwdown may have something to do with why the Epitome of Evil is out here now. [As the lights return to normal, "Hands of Death" fades and Annis pulls a mic out that was tucked in the back of his pants.] SA: Tumaffi... You haven't returned my calls... [He glares out into the sea of fans, as if searching for Tumaffi there.] SA: I challenged you to step up and get your vengeance. I welcomed the opportunity for payback, yet the world has seen neither hide nor hair from the great Tumaffi. Instead, they were treated to a hollow shell of a once great, but now broken man. I have silenced your bellowing, a feat that dare I say is near impossible considering the girth and size of you and your inane nonsensical ramblings... [Annis closes his eyes for a moment, thoughts of his rival swirling inside his head. He suddenly explodes with rage, eyes burning with hate as he bellows at the closest camera.] SA: WHO ARE YOU TO DISAPEAR TUMAFFI??? YOUR FAMILY OF WARRIORS ARE SPINNING IN THE WORM INFESTED DIRT THEY LIVE IN KNOWING YOU COWER AND FLEE FROM THE EPITOME OF EVIL... [Either he is doing his best to imitate his nemesis, or Annis' anger has reached Tumaffi like levels.] SA: YOUR SILENCE IS AS INSULTING AS IT IS INCORRIGIBLE! STEP UP AND FACE ME TUMAFFI.... [His cold icy blue appears appear to be boiling over with a rage that is rarely seen. He takes a moment to calm himself a bit and breath.] SA: Face me Malahu... Or don't bother ever showing yourself here again... [Once again, Annis peers out to the crowd. He even takes a look behind himself, to see if the mighty warrior might be attempting a sneak attack. ... but there is no one.] SA: I thought you were made of sterner stuff than that, Malahu... [One more look around... Still nothing.] SA: But your silence and your absence speaks louder than any of the boisterous threats you scream Tumaffi, and due to your cowardice I regret to inform these people that there will be no match up at Heaven and Hell... [Shocked pop. Yeah, we still get those every now and then.] SA: Tumaffi verses Annis is no more. The epic battle between man and beast... is over. Don't you see? I have won. I have driven Tumaffi out of the Universal Wrestling Federation.... Heh... So there shall be no match, because the victor has already been decided. You lost Malahu... You scared these people for so long, but you never had it thrown back at you before, have you? Not until you crossed paths with me. Should you ever decide to uncastrate yourself and show your face again? Well... I'll be waiting... [He drops the mic down on the steel entranceway. He glares out to the crowd, sweeping the audience one last time for his nemesis. The crowd reacts in typical fashion... Some cheer the show of strength, some condemn the lack of compassion. Others are silent in fear of drawing the ire of the Epitome of Evil. We cut back to the desk as Serge turns and leaves.] SS: Wow! So no match? I think our advance buyrate might take a sudden hit. DR: Have you ever seen Annis that worked up before? AM: No Dave, at least not for a long, long time. You would almost think that Tumaffi's uncharacteristic silence is tearing at Serge's psyche. DR: Well I think he expected a certain level of retaliation from the mighty Tumaffi, and the fact that we haven't seen it yet might be eating away The Epitome of Evil. SS: Are you suggesting he is scared? Because I just saw the look of a confident victor. You heard him. He has beaten Tumaffi, end of story. [Cut back up to Moe and Scud for the final wrapup.] MO: Well it looks like this show's just busting to get started. Scud: Like in the movie Alien? Careful what you eat, Moe. MO: So with that in mind, it's time for Rampage! [3... 2... 1... RAMPAGE!] |
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| Flouzemaker | Nov 9 2010, 05:10 PM Post #3 |
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The Luther Burger
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Wow! RUTABEGA!
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| Overly_Critical_Jue | Nov 9 2010, 05:29 PM Post #4 |
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Amigo, I ain't anybody but Juan Vasquez!
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They better return that ringbell if they know what's good for them.
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3:31 AM Jul 11