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| [UWF/MBC] Rampage Bloody Rampage [10.23.10]; @ The Big Easy... no, not Summer Blake | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 3 2011, 01:06 PM (599 Views) | |
| KliqerT | Mar 3 2011, 01:06 PM Post #1 |
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Doughy
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[Fade up from black, to an electric New Orleans Arena where things are already on the verge of happening.] DR: Hello ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Rampage Bloody Rampage here in New Orleans. Everyone's on edge, as moments- Skullhead: A few moments ago everyone was informed of a change in the lineup, we're apparently going to start off the show with a contract signing for Heaven and Hell. SS: Snore. Slush: Double snore. AM: Despite the fact you claim you'll be bored to the point of sleeping, somehow I suspect you'll still chime in with idiotic comments. SS: Don't hate, Amy. Don't hate. Slush: Free love is all the rage, don't you know? Tinkle: MEEP! Slush: Silence, baby eater! DH: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome UWF Commissioner ALLISON CHAMBERS! [Without much fanfare or even the sanctity of an entrance theme, UWF Commissioner Allison Chambers appears through the entrance way. The fans give her a warm welcome, even with more than a few whistles and cat calls thrown in. The smartly dressed woman is all business though, wasting no time in getting to the ring. She thanks Debbie Henshall upon her passing of the house microphone and clears her throat, off mic of course, before speaking.] AC: Thank you all, you're too kind. As advertised, tonight we have a contract signing for a feature attraction at Heaven and Hell. [Oh did I not say? There is table already set up in the middle of the ring! I swear, that ring crew is like a herd of ninjas! Or is it flock of ninjas? School of ninjas? Pod?] AC: With me is the contract, ready to be signed. So I'd like to ask the first of our signees to come down. Please welcome... GAMMA RAY! [While Chambers isn't a fan of the Irradiated One by any means, she still announces his name with enthusiasm. A pseudo-military procession of masked men in protective riot gear file out of the entrance to survey the aisle and stage as Jonas "Dutch" Elm, Oz Rivera, Jack Tunney and Gamma Ray make their way to the ring. As he walks down the aisle, the Irradiated One speaks into a microphone he brought with him.] GR: Alright, listen up. I've seen what always happens during one of these things, and I would really rather have this one go smoothly. Don't think we haven't noticed the growing unrest among all those fanatical MBC freaks over the months. SS: Preach it! Slush: Hey! SS: You have to admit it, you're all freaks. Slush: [sigh] The truth does hurt... [Gamma Ray climbs the steps, and, from the apron, points at the table in the ring.] GR: This is a contract signing can be done in an orderly, civilized manner. [Along with his acolytes, the Irradiated One steps into the ring through the ropes and continues his address as he reaches the table.] GR: I don't want anything or _anybody_ to interfere with Kyle Lee adding his signature next to my own. The MBC is already in its death throes, and, as desperation sets in, its freaks might be tempted to go out in some futile blaze of glory... So before any of you [BLEEP]ing bastards back there get any ideas... [The Guard leader snaps his fingers, and Jonas Elm seizes Allison Chambers, who protests the rough treatment. The giant Dutchman doesn't harm her, but it's clear she couldn't fight the mullet no matter how hard she tried. If the crowd boos ever louder. But that doesn't seem to disturb James Tunney as he examines every page of the match contract on the table.] AC: Let me go! GR: Shut up, [BLEEP]. [Gamma Ray turns back to address the general backstage area.] GR: If the MBC freaks, or Kyle Lee, or anyone else, try any funny business, the Guard can't be held responsible for what happens to the Chambers [BLEEP] as a result. And before you think I'm bluffing, let me remind you that this fawning sycophant in a tailored suit has deliberately cost me the UWF Heavyweight Championship, just so she could hand it over to Lee's puppet. [The Irradiated One approaches Allison Chambers, still firmly trapped in Elm's powerful clutch.] GR: ...And she actually thinks she's gonna get away with it. [He softly, insultingly pats the commissioner's cheek... She scowls, but Gamma Ray ignores her to continue his address.] GR: So you circus side-show bastards just go ahead and give me a reason to get a small amount of righteous retribution. Go ahead. Or, if you want things to run as smoothly as I do... You can let Kyle Lee come out here, alone, and let him sign his own death warrant. ...Speaking of the devil incarnate... [The owner and President of the UWF/MBC comes through the pathway under the Megatron. There is no music. There is no pyrotechnic splendor. Only a man clearly pissed off that his future opponent is making this a very difficult situation. Lee stops short of the ring, examining the numbers and, most likely, all the avenues of attack. But Chambers being in the middle of all this, and in the clutches of the mulleted monster Jonas Elm no less, complicates things immensely.] SS: He'd be a fool to get in that ring. Slush: Hey look! He's getting in the ring! SS: Totally called it. AM: Foolish? I guess, but Lee's not going to risk somebody getting hurt on his account. SS: You know his history. He's stepped on people for less. [As Lee sets both feet within the confines of the ring, he surveys those around him; Oz Rivera, Allison Chambers struggling in Elm's powerful hands, and Jack Tunney who, now done going over the contract details, nods approvingly at the Irradiated One. Lee and Gamma Ray exchange steely glares. The many Guardsmen stand strong, ready to react at the drop of a dime. Addressing Lee, Gamma Ray motions towards the contract Tunney places on table.] GR: Go ahead, sign it. [Lee checks on Allison again, her safety clearly his first concern. The threat of bodily harm is imminent but he'll not risk it. Demonstrating a silent and calm rage, Lee glowers at the Irradiated One, then bends over the table to sign his name on the contract.] Skullhead: Too late to turn back, now. Kyle Lee will be stepping inside that steel cage, and back into action, at Heaven and Hell! [As Lee backs away, Gamma Ray approaches the table, picks up the fountain pen, and adds his own name to the contract.] Skullhead: The match is signed and official. God help both of them. SS: That went surprisingly well... AM: You do realize Allison Chambers is still being held hostage, right? [James Tunney takes possession of the signed match contract, and carefully slips it into a briefcase, which he takes out of the ring and up the ramp under close Guard escort. Even without those few Guardsmen, the numbers are still overwhelmingly in Gamma Ray's favor. Making sure not to make any sudden movements, Lee picks up the house microphone dropped by Allison Chambers.] KL: OK. No one interrupted us, and the contract is signed. ...You can let Allison go, now. [Gamma Ray glares at Lee, nods, then gestures towards Jonas Elm. The Dutchman releases the UWF commissioner, and she hurries to Kyle Lee's side, dusting her sleeves.] AM: That... that went even smoother than I imagined! SS: Finally, a peaceful, orderly contract signing. Death to the cliche! [Allison turns to leaves, but hesitates. She turns back, and approaches Gamma Ray to speak her mind. Lee knows no good can come of this. The whole arena knows no good can come from this.] AC: Just to be clear, I didn't just hand DaMann the title. ... And I never cost you anything you didn't cost yourself. But hear this. [She pokes a finger into Gamma Ray's chest, and the masked man's eyes dilate.] AC: There's absolutely no chance in Hell you ever become the World Heavyweight Champion if-... [In a single swift motion, Gamma Ray bends down, picks up Allison over his shoulder as if for a back bodydrop, and abruptly sits down to drive the UWF commissioner's skull straight into the hard canvas~! For a handful of seconds that feel like hours, shock completely mutes announcers and crowd alike as the rest of Allison Chambers' limp, inert body falls to the mat. AM: Holy... Skullhead: IONIZER!! Oh my God! He took out the commissioner with the Ionizer! AM: What kind of man would _DO_ this?? SS: You have to admire the effectiveness of this move, though. Skullhead: Kyle Lee's not gonna let that one slide! [When the split second of paralyzing shock subsides, Lee shoves Guardsmen out of the way, charges in and boots the Irradiated One in the face and falls on top of him with a flurry of punches and forearms! The crowd erupts with cheers as Lee's clenched fist connects with the side of Gamma Ray's face repeatedly. They start to count as if every hit was a hit for justice! The Guards rush in to pull Lee off, but the Doomsayer, his rage overflowing, takes them all out one by one! With the Guardsmen no longer on top of him, Lee spear tackles a recovering Gamma Ray to the mat. Again, the fists fly with fury! The fans fuel Lee with their frenzied, riotous support!] Skullhead: HE'S BEATING THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF GAMMA RAY! [One would expect the massive Mayor of Mulletville to step in and put a violent end to the confrontation. But it seems Elm knows a physical confrontation won't do the trick. "Dutch" is wiser than he lets on. With a whistle, he summons Guardsmen to his side... ...and around the prone Allison Chambers. With a raise of his hand, so went the many batons.] AM: NO! That's just... LOW! Skullhead: Elm just ordered the mother of all beatdowns on Allison Chambers! AM: ...And he knows Kyle will fall for it! The man's a monster! Slush: For a wookie, Elm sure is evil. [Nothing could be more correct. Seeing what is about to happen in the corner of his eyes, Kyle Lee pauses. This gives Gamma Ray the opening he needs to land a fierce punch to Lee's jaw, knocking him over. Rather than resume his attack on Gamma Ray, Lee scurries to cover Allison as the batons come down. intended for the commissioner, the boots and clubs now strike the President, the sickening sounds a cacophony of violence.] AM: ...This is sickening. [As the Guard stomp Lee into the ground, Gamma Ray pulls himself together. Meanwhile, Oz Rivera leaves the ring only to take up a steel chair and slip back inside the ring. Jonas Elm sees his cohort coming and steps aside, giving Oz the opening he requires... THWACK~! THWACK~! THWACK~! One after another, Oz mercilessly swings the chair into Kyle Lee's back. Looking on from the side, the Irradiated One smirks, admiring the work of his allies, a sinister look of self-satisfaction etched on his face. Gamma Ray takes Oz's dented chair and places it on the mat before pulling Lee up. He applies a front face lock, hooks a leg, lifts him up... and slams Lee upper-back first on the flattened steel with a Northern Lights Bomb!] Skullhead: And there's a Neutrino Bomb! An unforgiving move on the mat, but on a chair... AM: At the risk of sounding repetitive... This is sickening. [The inert Lee is given no time to recover. Elm picks up the unresponsive deadweight Kyle Lee has become, drags him towards the table, then hoists the President over his shoulders and... the table explodes in a cloud of wooden shrapnel as Lee crashes through it!] DR: TREE CUTTER, good grief! [Sprawled among the broken pieces of wood, Lee isn't moving. Allison Chambers still hasn't shown any visible signs of life. The fans... well, all they can do is voice their discontent.] AM: These men... is there anyone more loathsome than these men? SS: Sure there is. AM: Who. Slush: Tom Landis? [While most of the Guards start to leave, a few medics tentatively make their way towards the ring, giving Elm and Oz the widest berth they can. Meanwhile, Gamma Ray picks up the fallen microphone before stepping up to the President, bestriding him.] GR: You're the Prophet, the Doomsayer.... You should have seen the writing on the wall. Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin. [The divine prophecy detailed in the book of Daniel... The Irradiated One crouches over Lee.] GR: No one can stop me, Lee, no one. [Serenely, Gamma Ray walks back up the ramp with the rest of his Guardsmen, letting the medics check on Kyle Lee while others securely immobilize Allison Chamber's neck. The prognostic begins to look even worse when two gurneys are rolled down to the ring... And abruptly we fade into the opening sequence shared by both UWF and MBC wrestlers, "Sound of Madness" by Shinedown plays. Soon though it gives way to the opening graphics:] ________ __ __ ____ | ___ \ ______ | \ / || _ \ ______ _____ _____ \ \__| \ / ___ || \/ || | \ \ / ___ | / ___ \ | ___| \ __ // /___| || |\ /| || |_/ // /___| | / / /_/ | |_ \ \ \ \ \ ___ || | \/ |_|| __/ \ ___ || | ___ | _| \_\ \ \ \ \ | ||_| | | \ \ | || | |_ || |_______ \_\ \_\ |_| |_| \_\ |_| \ \___| ||_________\ ______ \_____/ | _ | __ ____ ____ _____ _ _ | |/ / / / / _ \ / _ \\ \ / \ / \ | _ \ / / / / / // / / // /\ \\ \/ / | |/ // /___/ /_/ // /_/ // /_/ / \ / |____//_____/\____/ \____//______/ | | ________ __ __ ____ | / | ___ \ ______ | \ / || _ \ ______ |/____ _____ \ \__| \ / ___ || \/ || | \ \ / ___ | / ___ \ | ___| \ __ // /___| || |\ /| || |_/ // /___| | / / /_/ | |_ \ \ \ \ \ ___ || | \/ |_|| __/ \ ___ || | ___ | _| \_\ \ \ \ \ | ||_| | | \ \ | || | |_ || |_______ \_\ \_\ |_| |_| \_\ |_| \ \___| ||_________\ \_____/ 10-23-10 Hour One New Orleans Arena in New Orleans, Louisiana [But instead of rejoining the live proceedings in the ring we instead go to a taped piece. Cut suddenly to a slightly out-of-focus shot of a woman with dirty blonde hair pulled in a ponytail sitting down and wearing a pink babydoll t-shirt that emphasizes her "assets". Due to the (lack of) quality of the shot -- probably from either a webcam or a cellphone camera -- it's difficult to make out where this is happening or who this young woman is... ...until she opens her mouth.] Nikki: HIIII~!!!!! [waving and jiggling] [Yep. Nikki the Cat remembered she had a YouTube account. God help us all.] Nikki: Ohmigawd! Ok, so like first off THANK YOU to all my wonderful fans out there who sent me like a literal TON of e-mails saying how awesome I was for kicking Brianna Landis' ass last time out! I mean, GAWD, could you believe that skank?! And I was like, doing her a favor, y'know? [There's a certain look in Nikki's eyes and smile that leads one to believe she actually believes the BS she's spewing right now. If she actually has fans who follow her, we reiterate: God help us all.] Nikki: And that loser Moe lying and saying that I could get arrested or something?! [She twirls a strand of hair around a finger] TOTALLY NOT COOL! Nobody ever gets arrested for crap like that! And it's not like the French are important or anything. Expect maybe that Napoleon guy but he's like dead so who cares?! [Nikki's voice trails off as if lost in thought. Let's be honest, that's not too hard for her. She shrugs as a perky grin pops up on her face.] Nikki: So YEAH! Like anyway, it's TOTALLY obvious that Brianna is just jealous of me and like all Landises -- Landii? [She shakes her head before she gets lost in thought again] Whatever, like all her family is just a bunch of skaggy-loser-retards anyway who fall in love with ugly French morons. I mean, she only interrupted me 'cause IT' S SO OBVIOUS her panties are wet for Sylhouette [quick grimace] and she's gotta lezz it up with the smelly French fat-ass 'cause Luke Kinsey's got a small dick and he can't get it up anyway! [Nikki's grin gets wider as she seems especially proud of that example of "cutting wit".] Nikki: So anyway, thanks for watching me! I get to kick Brianna's loser ass again! YAY! GO ME! And Juan, I hope you're watching 'cause this one's gonna be for you! [She blows a kiss and flashes a V for victory.] Nikki: BYYYYYYE!~!!!!! [waving and jiggling] [And mercifully the clip stops. We return to the ring now and for a brief moment we can see that both Kyle Lee and Allison Chambers are still being attended to. Chambers in particular is being secured onto a backboard and loaded onto a stretcher. Cut to the UWF side of the announce team.] DR: Fans, welcome back. I don't know what we can say that hasn't already been said about that vicious and disgusting assault by Gamma Ray and the Guard at the top of the program. We don't know much about the condition of the owner of the UWF or his commissioner, but as we can clearly see it doesn't look good. SS: Yeah but Lee's not getting out of that pay-per-view match because he has a boo-boo. Gamma Ray got the contract signed before he dropped the dime, as it were. AM: I suppose I can understand him trying to soften Kyle up before Heaven and Hell. Kyle's been through enough wars, hell he was probably expecting something like this to go down. But he put his hands on Allison Chambers and may have severely injured a woman that's had no training in the ring! SS: She mouthed off to him. AM: And that was a reason to drive her head into the mat?!? She handles Kyle's business affairs, she's not a stand-in for him inside the ring! DR: Well one thing is clear, we won't be seeing either Kyle Lee or Allison Chambers the rest of the night. For better or worse, the UWF is completely rudderless tonight. And that usually does not mean good things are in store. AM: Case in point, we just saw Nikki the Cat. DR: Tonight's opening match is stemming from last week's revelation that Brianna Landis was the person behind Sylhouette's kidnapping last year, causing her to lose several months of her career. It was Nikki who insisted that she was the one responsible prior to that, but Brianna's guilty conscience apparently ate away at her until she confessed. SS: I still think it was Corvette. AM: Then you're a moron. DR: As of late Brianna has definitely had a change of heart, but anyone who knew what she was like previously is aware that causing someone to be kidnapped is very much in character. Before we get to the ring for the match, let's send it backstage. [Cut to the usual interview area, where Moe Owens is waiting for his cue. Next to him is Brianna Landis, wearing her ring attire consisting of long black tights and a matching sports bra, with neon colors crisscrossing up and down the legs. Brianna looks a little pensive as Moe begins.] MO: Thanks Dave. Brianna, you're moments away from stepping into the ring against Nikki the Cat, but you have to expect Sylhouette will be watching this one closely. BL: I hope she is, Moe. But before we get into that, I want to send best wishes out to Allison Chambers. As someone who was caught in the middle of a fight like that not too long ago, I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy. MO: You do realize that might ring a little hollow considering what you confessed to last week with Sylhouette? [Brianna sighs.] BL: I know what I did, Moe. And you know, it would have been so easy to never talk about it again and just let Nikki take the fall for it. She's stupid enough to take credit for it even now. But I'm trying to turn over a new leaf here. I fully admit my part in Sylhouette's kidnapping, and I know she's going to want revenge. She has every right to. MO: So you regret what you did. BL: Well... that's where this gets complicated. I admit what I did, but no. I don't regret it. The reason I even got involved in Syl's daddy issues in the first place was to remove an obstacle that was standing in the way of my career. Sylhouette and Corvette showed up here and immediately won the fans over with their highflying. [She taps her chest.] But I'm every bit as good as they are, maybe better. But the fans never took a serious look at me, I was always painted as the younger sister. So if I could get rid of one of these flavors of the month and pin it on the other one in the process, why the hell not? MO: That doesn't sound very much like remorse, Brianna. BL: I never said I was sorry about why I did it, Moe. I'm sorry it took this long to come out that it was me who was behind it, but I have no regrets about doing it in the first place. And I know the fans probably won't like my stance on this, but I'm not suddenly some whole new angelic person. I have my flaws, just like everybody else does. The only difference is I'll own up to mine. MO: That's... um... [pausing, as he clearly doesn't buy into what he's about to say] admirable? BL: I never asked people to suddenly love me. Just like Luke never asked anyone to suddenly embrace him. If you're with him, just like if you're with me, then cool. But I'm not going to stand here and sugarcoat things with a lie. I can be a real bitch sometimes. Sylhouette, I know you and I are going to settle things one day. Maybe real soon. But tonight it's about shutting up that annoying little witch with a god complex and Tourette syndrome. Who the crowd wants to cheer for is up to them. [And with that, Brianna Landis walks off as in the background her music kicks up.] MO: Thanks Brianna, for a surprisingly frank talk. Back to you guys in the arena. [Cut.] _______ ________ _______ _______ ______ ______ | | | | | | ___|----------------------| | | __ \ | | | | | | | ___| WRITER: | | __ « ---| |_______|________|___| MB |__|_|__|______/______| Rampage Bloody Rampage Rampage Bloody Rampage ONE-ON-ONE: "Every Man's Fantasy" Brianna Landis versus Nikki The Cat ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ["According To You" by Orianthi played Brianna to the ring, and what several months ago would have been outright hatred was instead a mixed reaction for the former Joint Light Heavyweight Champion. A few vocal pockets of support were apparent as she approached the ring, and for a moment Brianna seemed touched by the genuine support. When Nikki the Cat made her entrance it was a uniformly angry crowd that greeted her, and Nikki went on a tirade directed at nobody in particular as she made her way to the ring.] AM: Well, that's one way to take an opinion poll. DR: Indeed, I think Brianna's support probably just shot up several more percent by the virtue of Nikki the Cat simply being out here. [Nikki stopped to wave at Sam Steeley before entering the ring, which once again caused Sam to have a moment of shame.] AM: And just think, you went and tapped- SS: Shut up, I was drunk! DR: Here's the bell, and Brianna goes right after Nikki... who bails to the floor. [The crowd immediately got on Nikki's case again with such a blantant stall tactic, but Brianna refused to let that stop her as she exited the ring to go after Nikki. A chase around ringside led to Nikki rolling into the ring first, stopping Brianna with a sharp knee into the side to prevent her from rising up to her feet, and then grabbing her with a side headlock. Landis quickly shoved her off to the ropes, but Nikki put the breaks on and once more ducked out to the floor. Upon being threatened with a countout Nikki slowly returned to the ring again, but ducked between the ropes to avoid her opponent's wrath. Demanding a clean lockup, Nikki got what she wanted but soon found herself backed up to the ropes again. She continued to stall, getting her leg hooked in the ropes and having the ref break it up.] DR: Brianna's starting to get frustrated. AM: So is the crowd, they want to see Nikki get her ass kicked in a major way. [As Nikki ducked to the outside once again, Brianna tried to grab her by the hair only to again have the referee step in. An attempt by Nikki to catapult Brianna over the ropes to the floor backfired when Landis caught her instead and sent Nikki sailing back into the ring. But before she could continue the assault, "The Living Tree" hit the PA system and the crowd exploded at the sight of Sylhouette emerging from the back without a hesitation in her step.] AM: It's Sylhouette! DR: The referee is calling for the bell here right away, he knows what we all know. Sylhouette is not here to sit and watch this match to its conclusion. [As she walks down the ramp, it's clear Sylhouette isn't here to joke around. Inside the ring, both competitors abandon the current match and are turned to face the entrance.] Syl: You know, for a while, I didn't know which one of you I should challenge first. La salope, ou la poufiasse? Should I challenge the stupid blond bimbo that does Luke or the stupid blond bimbo that wants to do Juan? [Cheers from the crowd!] Syl: Should I be seeking revenge for myself, or avenging my friend? Should I challenge the trash talking tramp, or the backstabbing [BLEEP]? [The French girl's uncharacteristically harsh vernacular elicits even louder cheers, especially since it's so heartfelt.] Syl: And then I realized... since the only thing on the menu is some blond bimbo, why not go to the all you can beat blond bimbo buffet! [Nikki's face flashes in white hot burning anger, screaming obscenities at the top of her lungs while Brianna keeps shifting her glance from disgust at Nikki to simple dislike for Sylhouette.] Syl: Since I want to kick you both around so badly, since I want to get you both in the ring at the same time, I've asked the league to set up a three way dance at Heaven and Hell... and they've agreed! [This halts Nikki's tirade, as she clearly doesn't want any part of tangling with Syl in an official match. Her opponent on this night has a different reaction though, as Brianna nods towards Sylhouette and simply brings her arms up in a defensive stance as she mouths the words "Then bring it, paperweight." Sylhouette ascends the ring steps, and addresses her two foes from the apron.] Syl: But since I can't wait that long, I can feel I'll succumb to the temptation any second, now... [She lithely slides under the second rope and rises next to Brianna.] Syl: I'll succumb and beat you both right now! [And Nikki shoves Brianna forward into Sylhouette, the French phenom lashes out and hits a forearm shot into the blonde's face as Nikki bails from the ring. She scurries up the aisle as in the ring, Syl grabs Brianna and swings her around to try and hit a lungblower in the middle of the ring. Landis resists, turns around and grabs Sylhouette with a backbreaker hold to try for the Spiralling Downward. But as she delivers it, Sylhouette's gymnastic training pays off as...] DR: Sylhouette lands on her feet! Incredible agility! OUTLINER! Down goes Brianna! SS: You can't trust the French! Paul Revere and the Raiders were right! AM: Again, I can't even begin to count what's wrong with that statement. ["The Living Tree" hits the PA again, and Sylhouette returns to her feet, a measure of satisfaction on her face. She walks out of the ring, leaving Brianna to roll onto her stomach, holding her head.] DR: Well this should be an interesting contest at Heaven and Hell, a three way dance between Sylhouette and both of the women taking credit for her kidnapping, Nikki and Brianna. AM: A final chance at revenge, on a stage as big as they come in Texas? Not bad at all. [The camera cuts one of the dressing room in the New Orleans Arena backstage area. Entering the room from the hallway is it's assigned occupant, Erik Grimsson. Dressed in a pair of ripped white jeans with skull designs printed on them, a black "Xentrix- Ghostbusters" longsleeve t-shirt, and black Nike amateur wrestling shoes. Rounding out with his long, blonde hair down and straight, and a large knee brace on his left knee, Erik carries a large, grocery sized paper bag in each hand. Limping over to a table in the center of the room, Erik sits down and starts tearing into the bags.] Erik: Man, I so hope they hooked me up with extra syrup for my pancakes. [Since the door to the hallway was left open, one really wouldn't need to knock before entering. Ronan Benedict isn't just somebody though, as he politely knocks on the door frame.] RB: Pancakes? Before a match? Seems kinda' heavy... [Ronan is dressed for action, sporting a short-sleeved black "War Hounds: Grit, Gristle & Gore Tour" t-shirt, forest green camouflage patterned pants, and black boots on his feet. Both wrists and hands are also wrapped in white athletic. Ronan's long, dark red hair hangs down around his shoulders, while also dangling in his bearded face. Erik looks up from his bags of food, turning his head to see his visitor.] Erik: I got some breakfast steaks and a lot of eggs and bacon to go with them, too. Anyway, man, what's up? [Ronan whistles in astonishment that Erik is planning to devour all that food. He then shakes the thought away and enters the room.] RB: I just came here to apologize, man. We may have disagreed about that tag match on the last show, but I didn't have to be a jackass about it. And money damn sure ain't the most important thing to me. Ain't even in the top five. I acted like a greedy prick, and that just ain't me. [Erik ponders for a second and nods his head.] Erik: Hey dude, it's cool. I was totally being a d-bag, too. As it is, I probably needed the help. RB: Glad you're seein' reason. I guess the important thing though, is that it all worked itself out in the end. Erik: Yeah, it did. Unfortunately, I've got Titus as my partner tonight. Wish I had you again. [Erik shrugs his shoulders.] Erik: I guess it's like, I kinda doubt I can really count on him to be fight fire with fire like you and me do. [Ronan nods his head, understanding Erik's point of view.] RB: Well, it wasn't long ago you didn't want me in the same ring with ya' either. But the point is, Titus has seem some battles too. He may lack that killer instinct, or the willingness to snap a neck if he has to, but I think he'll come through for you just fine. Erik: [Sighing] I don't know, man. Seems everyone besides my immediate family, you and your sister, and Jan Delgado have been pretty disappointing recently. But we'll see how it goes, I guess. RB: Cheer up, man. You're about to dig into a monster feast. Besides, if it turns out that Titus can't pull his weight, then do something about it. You've been doing this sh[BLEEP]t longer than me, man, so you know what it takes to survive lousy odds. [Leaning against the wall, Ronan contemplatively rubs his beard for a moment.] RB: And at least you'll have one less Hand of Doom lackey to worry about, 'cause Brawn Stevenson will be too busy pickin' his teeth off the mat by the time I'm through with him. [Erik gives a reassuring wave of his hand.] Erik: Dude, don't worry. I'm totally fine. Wouldn't be the first time I've had to pick up slack for a tag partner if that's the case. And as for Brawn, I never liked that [MEEP]head, so give him a few shots for me. [Ronan has a good chuckle at Erik's request.] RB: You got it. [Out in the hall, someone can be heard yelling "Security!", at which point former UWF and MBC combatant Myra Benedict strolls right in through the door beside Ronan.] RB: Myra, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be exiled from... [Trailing off, he glances back at Erik as realization hits him.] RB: Oh, right... I'll leave you two alone then. [And before Erik or Myra can say anything, Ronan is gone out the door from which Myra just entered. Myra, meanwhile, turns to Erik and answers the question Ronan had asked her.] MYRA: Just thought I'd drop in for a little visit. [Erik is up out of his seat and darts across the room, embracing Myra around her waist in a big hug.] Erik: Oh man, this is so awesome! I've missed you a lot, Myra. [Myra returns the gesture, inhaling deeply. Contentedly?] MYRA: You're a sap, do you know that? [she kisses him] But then again, that's one of the reasons why I fell for you. [Erik returns Myra's kiss, and then releases her, a puzzled look forms on his face.] Erik: You know, don't get the wrong idea because I'm glad to see you, but I'm kinda with your brother. What are you doing here? MYRA: With all these enemies around you, even the bravest and strongest warrior would fall if poorly equipped. [Myra now pulls a bag from her shoulder and opens it, pulling out two Escrima sticks, which she hands to Erik.] MYRA: So I came here to give you these. [The puzzled look returns to Erik's face as he eyes Myra's gift.] Erik: Um...cool. Wooden sticks. [Chuckling, Myra smirks fiendishly. It's a signature, damnit.] MYRA: Indeed. Very, very hard fighting sticks. Escrima sticks. I expect you'll find many uses for them. Erik: [Nodding] Alright, cool. These are the sticks I always see you practicing with at home, aren't they? I think I can find some good use for these. [Myra smiles, pleased to see that Erik now understands their use.] MYRA: Not just for practice. These are the sticks I use in combat. I tried to get the blood off, but... [Erik laughs a bit.] Erik: Oh, I'm sure I'll find a way to manage. May even add some more on there. Thanks, Myra. [Myra nods her head.] MYRA: You're welcome. Think of me when you use them. Erik: I will. [Erik turns, looking at his food, then turns back to Myra.] Erik: Man, how rude of me. Since you're here, you want something to eat? [Myra glances over her shoulder at the hallway outside. Despite the continued calls for Security, they don't seem to be coming. Maybe somebody else started a riot this time. Myra then turns back toward Erik and nods.] MYRA: Only if you'll eat with me. I can't have you going comatose on me. So... what's for dinner? Erik smiles as he heads back over to the table.] Erik: Oh man, I went to the local Denny's and got all kinds of breakfast stuff. Eggs, steaks, bacon, sausage, pancakes. Well, I guess you get the idea. [Smiling once again, Myra chuckles.] MYRA: I certainly do. Sounds like your usual. [She too moves toward the table, but it's at that time that several members of the Guard FINALLY pour into the room, restraining Myra and pulling her away. She struggles of course, even high kicking one of the guardsmen.] Guard Member #1: She has no business here, or anywhere near the premises. Get her out of the building! [Myra struggles some more, but then suddenly stops fighting them.] MYRA: Wait! Just... give me one minute! GM#1: No chance. You shouldn't even _be_ here, Myra. MYRA: _One_ _minute_, and then I'll go quietly. Just one minute. [The guards confer momentarily.] GM#1: One minute. [Myra is immediately released, and she turns back toward Erik.] MYRA: I almost forgot I have something else for you. [Digging into a pocket of her combat fatigues, Myra pulls out a set of keys.] MYRA: I left some heavy equipment in Arlington, Texas, behind Cowboy Stadium. These will get you access to it. And from there, it's all yours to use how you see fit. [She leans in to give Erik another kiss, but the Guardsman restrains her once again.] SO: Time's up. [Erik is now beside himself.] Erik Hey, what the hell, man?! She hasn't even done anything! This is bull[MEEP]! [The Guardsman now turns, facing the livid Erik.] GM#1: Watch it, Grimsson! You're skating on thin ice as it is. The best thing for you to do is shut your mouth and do what you're told! [Absolutely boiling at this point, Erik goes over to the table, chucking it and the food on top of it, narrowly missing the departing guard with shattered table and food debris.] Erik: YOU MOTHER[MEEP]ERS! [A now irate and out of control Erik now storms out of the dressing room as the camera fades. The scene opens to the Throne Room, the ornate dressing room of the MBC's very own queen, Holly Hotbody. The busty beauty is laying facedown nude on a bench, her auburn locks pinned atop her head. And before anyone gets too excited, her unmentionables are covered by a white towel. Her eyes are closed, a look of bliss etched on her features, as a masseuse stands over her, effortlessly working on her back.] HH: Excellent, Hans. Your hands are like magic! [He merely nods. Seated across from her is Brawn Stevenson. He's in a black, "Fear the Hand" tank top and jeans, the mountain of muscle lifting weights and counting to himself, sweat glistening lightly off of his form.] HH: Did you see it, Brawn? Did you bear witness? [Brawn grunts his acknowledgment.] HH: I dragged my no-talent cousin into that ring and left her embarrassed and humiliated. [she lets out a laugh] After that, I'm sure Jan will pose no real threat at Heaven and Hell. Oh sure, I know that she's probably telling everyone who will listen that she will get revenge or some other nonsense. But I looked in her eyes and saw, through the tears of shame, that she was finally broken. Because I had not only proven her to be a fool but weak as well. [A satisfied smirk crosses her features as she opens her eyes, focusing them on Brawn.] HH: You see, that's how you make a statement, Brawn. And you must do the same thing tonight. You must crush Ronan Benedict and show that idiot, Clayton Ross, exactly what awaits him. [Brawn grins, dropping the weights to the floor.] BS: You ain't gotta worry, my queen. It's as good as done. I'm not like Georgia. Give me a task and I complete it. [pauses] Where'd she run off to anyway? [smirks] Still crying over losing Miss Morality? HH: I actually have her on a special... mission tonight. But she's the least of our worries. Your focus needs to be on Benedict. BS: Like I said, good as done. I know he's tough and all that [MEEP]. But ain't nobody running through me. I don't care how famous their [MEEP]in' family is. Tonight, it's about sending a message home to Ross. [He leans back in his seat, making sure to take a moment to ogle Holly's smooth, shapely legs.] BS: That fool refuses to get the point. The Hand is running the show around here. Didn't what happened to Gimpy Grimsson send enough of a message? Anybody stepping against us gets dealt with accordingly. [He shakes his head.] BS: For some reason, Ross refuses to get that through his thick skull, even after I've been kicking his ass all over the ring. Maybe he rode the short bus as a kid or something. [shrugs] Beats me. [Holly lets out a chuckle.] BS: Hopefully, he watches tonight's match closely and pays attention to how I decimate this Ronan cat. Because I'm done playing around. And if he keeps up with his do-gooder [MEEP], he will be next. [Holly closes her eyes again and purrs.] HH: Mmmm. I love it when you talk dirty. BS: As far as Ronan goes, he'd be smart to step back and play his position. ‘Cause if he thinks he's gonna make something of himself off of me, he better come again. He'll learn that those other dudes he been beating on ain't got [MEEP] on me. I didn't become HoD enforcer for nothing. HH: Yes, my black knight, smite our enemies with vengeance! [Fade.] Skullhead: And welcome ladies and gentlemen to the first MBC portion of the broadcast. Slush: Oh hey... it's our turn. Pinhead: You sound surprised. Slush: I didn't think the UWF blowhards would ever go away. Tinkle: MEEP! Slush: You're right. Sam is cool. Tinkle: MEEP! Slush: Yeah, that was a fun night. Or what I remember of it. Skullhead: Much like most of our UWF counterparts, I am sickened by what happened to Kyle Lee and Allison Chambers at the beginning of the show. But we must move on. Kyle wants it that way. In fact, he posted that backstage. Slush: Why would he do something so dumb? Pinhead: Because he's been attacked before. Slush: Totally deserves it. Skullhead: And so, we move on. And we're heading right into a match between Brawn Stevenson and Ronan Benedict. Slush: All hail her Holy Hotness! Skullhead: Stevenson is quite obviously out to prove a few points tonight. One, that his "Queen" has chosen wisely. And two, that Clayton Ross has something to fear at Heaven and Hell. Pinhead: Where Ross and Stevenson will face off. Slush: Brawn will break him! Ivan Drago style! He won't even need a montage. Tinkle: MEEP! Slush: So true. One always needs a montage. Skullhead: And on the other side of the ring is Ronan Benedict, who has been working hard to prove to President Lee that he's different than his sister. Pinhead: As in not a homicidal maniac? Skullhead: Among other things. He's a man capable of things but like many other families in this business, certain members of the Benedicts cast a long shadow. Pinhead: Too bad Lee is probably on his way to the hospital. Slush: Let's hope Lee has DVR. Pinhead: I really think when you own a whole wrestling company, including a whole production truck filled with millions of dollars worth of television equipment, you won't have to bother with DVR. Slush: How else would you get your porn and Sportscenter? Tinkle: ... Slush: Okay... how else would you get your porn? _______ ________ _______ _______ ______ ______ | | | | | | ___|----------------------| | | __ \ | | | | | | | ___| WRITER: | | __ « ---| |_______|________|___| KL |__|_|__|______/______| Rampage Bloody Rampage Rampage Bloody Rampage SINGLES CONTEST: Ronan Benedict versus Brawn Stevenson ---------------------------------------------------------------------- [Everything about Brawn Stevenson and his entrance screamed confidence and cockiness. It was the kind of swagger that the common man hates. While unknown if Brawn Stevenson finds himself better than the common man, he had a lot of things going for him, or at least, he did in his own mind. He was in peak physical condition. He worked for the "Queen" Holly Hotbody and though she wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, the gorgeous Georgia Church was escorting him to ringside dressed like the a combination between a stripper and a pimp. She even had a cane. Jealousy is a term that probably didn't adequately describe what he was creating amongst the fans. Then again, he didn't care. He just smiled. Ronan Benedict carried a different kind of confidence with him as he walked down the aisle. His was concentrated. His was centered solely in his abilities and he had the utmost confidence that he would win this match to prove his worth in the MBC. If he couldn't prove he was a different entity than his sister with mere words, then he would prove it with actions. Thus was the setting for their match. Quickly, the match devolved into a brawl, each man trying to strike those initial moments of pain to catch the other off guard. Shots were landed and some were of course missed. Such is the way of a wild brawl. With the adrenaline settling in, each resorted to what they were best at. Stevenson unleashed his power game while Benedict brought out his mixture of grappling and Muay Thai. The combination of styles proved quite interesting, if not thrilling. Neither man was getting a clear advantage, causing momentum to turn on the head of a dime. This would not do for Stevenson. So with a nod, he signaled to Georgia Church that something had to be done.] Pinhead: That can't be good. Slush: Look again. It's fantastic. [When she wasn't strutting her amazingly tight backside, Georgia was swinging around her cane. Why a cane? It matched her outfit. Fashion tips from her Majesty Holly Hotbody of course! She walked along the outside of the ring and waited. She could stalk sure, but nothing throws off a referee more than a stalker. As Stevenson attempted to put Benedict in prime position for Church to strike Ronan with the cane, Clayton Ross appeared suddenly in the crowd and jumped over the guardrail. He took hold of the cane in order to keep Church from swinging it. She pulled back so hard that when Ross let go, she ended up flinging herself backwards into the security barrier. Not pleased with Ross' presence, Stevenson came over to yell at his Heaven and Hell opponent. Ross quickly took up the cane, swung it with a rage rarely seen and busted it over Steven's skull. All of this out of sight of the referee of course. Stevenson, thick headed as he was, staggered backwards leaving him open for Benedict to strike with his Death Forge. As Ross returned to the crowd and as Church rubbed her now sore rear end, Benedict covered Stevenson, hooked a leg and took the one, two, three.] DH: Here is your winner... ROOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN BENNNEEEEEEEEEEDIIIIIIIIIIIIIICT! DH: The winner of this match by pinfall.... RONAN BENEDICT!!! Skullhead: Benedict with a smart heads up move there. Pinhead: When an opportunity presents itself, you have to take it. Tinkle: MEEP! Slush: Oh sorry, I'm still thinking about DVR and porn. Skullhead: Stevenson is dressing down Georgia Church about what happened but she's hardly to blame. Ross was smart in letting her momentum take her away. Pinhead: But at the same time, Clayton Ross is rising on the Most Wanted List of the Hand of Doom. And that's not a good place to be. Slush: I was there once. Pinhead: ... Skullhead: ... Slush: What? Nobody? Fine, I'll ask myself then. How'd that turn out for you Slush? Best weekend of my life! Pinhead: ... Skullhead: ... Slush: Nothing? Nothing at all? Skullhead: If you're going to rip off UWF jokes, you can at least do it away from us. Slush: [MEEP]tards! The lot of you! [Cut to backstage, with a rather unhappy looking Virginia St. Ursula and Michael Bonn, currently in conversation with a couple of UWF stage hands.] VSU: [frowning, shaking her head] ...I can't believe it... Stage Hand #1: I'm just telling you what I heard, Ms St. Ursula. Elliott and Osbourne's stuff got trashed in the locker room and they're saying Ryu did it! VSU: But he wouldn't DO that! He's at the vet's! Stage Hand #2: I saw the mess myself. It looked kinda bad. OK, more than "kinda bad". [she winces] I didn't think you could do that to a Slurpee machine! The way Randall Osbourne's calling for blood right now... [another wince] I remember the match he had with Joe Reed back in the day. Ryu might wanna invest in a hockey mask! Stage Hand #1: [looking over at Bonn sympathetically] Hell, you might want to too, Mr. Bonn. Y'know, just in case. [Both stage hands shake their heads sadly, then exit.] VSU: [grimacing] This is ridiculous! BONN: You sure Ryu is at the vet's? VSU: Yes! At least that's where he says he is... [A beat.] How can you even question that about your own partner?! You know Ryu didn't do this! BONN: [folding his arms across his chest] Actually, I want to make sure he's not in the line of fire of the Insanity Society right now. If he's not here, then that's a good thing. I know how worked up he gets over that stupid bird... [An angry Ginny gets ready to snap at Michael. The Nighthawk just presses on.] BONN: ..._and_ I know that trashing Tommy Elliott and Randall Osbourne's stuff isn't Ryu's style. At _all_. VSU: Sounds more like your style -- at least back in the bad old days. BONN: [muttering] Yeah, don't remind me. [He sighs] No, I don't like this at all. It's crazy; we're being set up! VSU: They are called the "Insanity Society" for a reason. First, they take out Trice, then they take out their own property! It's mind games! BONN: You were the one who wanted to give them a title shot. VSU: [grumbling] Don't remind me... [Fade.] Tinkle: MEEP! Slush: See what happens when you mess with a man's cock? REVENGE! Skullhead: I tend to believe that Ryu had nothing to do with it. Pinhead: You never know. Tommy Elliot crossed the line when he tossed Trice out of a helicopter. Skullhead: Point. Still, I don't know if he'd trash a locker room. Especially not one belonging to the "Insanity Society." Slush: What’s the big deal? So what if a Slurpee machine got broken. Pinhead: You obviously don't know anything about the Insanity Society. Slush: I know they have a thing for alligators and tigers dressed in tank tops... or something. Pinhead: Randall Osbourne is a beast and at times a very vengeful beast who teeters on the very edge of calm. The man loves his grape Slurpees. You mess with that and then... well... he'll bite your face off. And I mean that in the most literal of terms. We can only hope The Guard actually does their damn job and stops something from happening. Skullhead: Given what happened at the top of the show, I think we both know that's not going to happen. Pinhead: Sad but true. Skullhead: Still, we must move on. And next we have one of the final matches in the opening round of the Empress Cup. Kiora Donavon faces Felicity Malone. Pinhead: A number of people are eagerly anticipating this match. As many on the fan forums have called it, this is the "Original Queen Bitch of the HoD versus the Current Queen Bitch of the HoD." Skullhead: The Empress Cup hardly matters here in my mind. These are two women who want to fight just to see who the bigger bad ass bitch is. And that's pretty much exactly how they would describe it. Slush: I'm still telling! You're so in trouble! Skullhead: You do that Slush. See how fast I don't give a damn. Oh wow. Did you see that? That went so quick! Slush: Man, you're on edge tonight! Skullhead: Can you blame me? Slush: Do you have to ask? Pinhead: Should you bother? Skullhead: Probably not. Lets just move to the match. _______ ________ _______ _______ ______ ______ | | | | | | ___|----------------------| | | __ \ | | | | | | | ___| WRITER: | | __ « ---| |_______|________|___| KL |__|_|__|______/______| Rampage Bloody Rampage Rampage Bloody Rampage EMPRESS CUP FIRST ROUND MATCH: Felicity Malone versus Kiora Donovan ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ["Two-Lane Blacktop" by Rob Zombie starts up and the crowd pops.. and pops.. and waits.. and begins to die down. People start looking at each other and at the bare entrance, wondering why Felicity hasn't shown her face yet. Then a silhouetted form appears in the entrance, but the responding pop dies down almost immediately: this form is far too tall, with hair that's far too long. Rose Malone steps into the light, and the music abruptly cuts off. Rose is dressed in her usual: tight gray jeans and a a black "Assassination City Roller Derby" t-shirt. In one hand she holds a microphone; in the other, a note card. She looks at the crowds to her left and right, and then raises the mic.] Rose: I won't be wrestling in place of my sister, if that's what you're wondering. I'm here to deliver the Mighty Bastard Championship a message from her... I'm not too happy about doing it, but thought I at least owed the MBC this courtesy. [Rose clears her throat and lifts the notecard.] Rose: Message begins. Dear MBC: I know I'm scheduled to wrestle Kiora Donovan tonight. I know this is a fight a lot of you have been looking forward to -- I must admit I was looking forward to it myself. In fact, I feel so strongly about this fight that I can't stoop to participate in it while the MBC is in the state it's in. [Surprised pop; the crowd is confused and a touch put off. Rose looks visibly pained.] Rose: As you know, I've become something like the fed head in a new group formed out of MBC loyalists called the Bastard Underground. The Underground believes in the purity of the MBC experience, and that the MBC no longer reflects its own true values. It has, by opening its doors to feds and wrestlers from a far more conventional walk of life, weakened itself and sold out what makes it unique. [Another stronger pop, angrier this time. Rose carries on.] Rose: So I will not be wrestling in the MBC now, or for the foreseeable future. If you want to see real titles defended and challenged by real bastards, come watch us in the Bastard Underground... or come out to a show. I promise you the seats won't cost half as much as the ones you're sitting now. Message ends. [Rose tucks the note card into her back pocket and lowers the mic as the crowd pops again -- a seriously mixed crowd. Some angry, some confused, some... enthusiastic? They quiet down as Rose lifts the mic again.] Rose: I'm told Kiora Donovan also has something to say. [Naturally the crowd boos at the mention of Kiora's name, mostly the MBC fans who will boo anybody associated with the Hand of Doom. The boos get even louder as Kiora appears on the jumbotron, especially since she's clearly flipping the crowd off even though her hands are pixelised so that nobody can see it. Rose takes this moment to exit, and quickly. Kiora proudly wears her Hand of Doom t-shirt and has a wicked smile on her face. Kiora begins to speak.] Kiora: Yeah, some of you might have figured out by now that I'm not gonna be wrestling tonight. The true bastards amongst you have probably tumbled onto the fact that I'm just as much involved with the Bastard Underground as Felicity is, I'm sure those true bastards will clue in the UWF fans at some point. [Naturally the UWF fans loudly object to the insinuation that they're none to bright. Kiora doesn't appear to care, though that might be because her message is pre-taped.] Kiora: The MBC is a pale shadow of what it once was, thanks to Kyle Lee selling out. With Bastard Underground we hope to bring back the true bastard experience, so that people can truly appreciate what the Hand of Doom is capable of when unfettered by the shackles of mediocrity. [Why yes, Kiora has been flipping off the crowd this whole time and they've not been at all appreciative. Particularly the UWF fans who are not amused by Kiora's slander of their favorite federation.] Kiora: So if you want to watch me beat the crap out of Felicity Malone, come to a Bastard Underground show. It's bound to happen sooner or later. Skullhead: I guess we have a double forfeiture then. Slush: Is that a word? Pinhead: I'm starting to become concerned with this Bastard Underground situation. Slush: Your kid being involved wasn't enough? Pinhead: Of course it was. But he's got to do what's best for him. But now the Underground is starting to undermine the MBC. Skullhead: And the UWF. Slush: Duh, that's the point. Pinhead: Watch it Slush. Roy Beam is gunning to supplant you as number one [MEEP]hole. Slush: I think it's been proven many times that I will always be the number one [MEEP]hole... w |
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| KliqerT | Mar 3 2011, 01:07 PM Post #2 |
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Doughy
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[The scene fades into a shot of Miss Morality Pageant loser, Ayako, with her eyes closed, having makeup applied on her face by fellow dojomate, Michiko. We see that Ayako is still in her beauty pageant outfit, complete with sparkling tiara and "Miss Germany" sash. As she's getting made pretty by Michiko's skillful brush strokes, the camera pulls back to reveal her mentor, savior, leader and paragon of womanhood...Miyuki Ozaki! Miyuki is dressed in a pink hoodie with a bear face and ears on the hood over her ring attire, which is hidden by the hoodie, but involves a pair of black go-go boots with pink laces and trim. In her hands is the report that Ayako had compiled on Eveline Eriksen's mental profile that was last seen on House of Throwdowns. She's flanked by the rest of the girls, who watch on as Ayako is being made into a pretty pretty princess once more.] Ayako: (Do I really have to wear this outfit? I mean, I didn't even finish second in that competition.) [Ayako slaps Michiko's make-up brush away from her face as Miyuki just rolls her eyes.] Miyuki: (Come on, Ayako...the fact that the results in the Miss Morality Pageant were fixed is as painfully obvious as that cheap feel that Nina tried to cop when I hugged her! You need to show those bitches that we all know who the rightful winner was! You need to fight injustice at every turn. Are you just going to stand there and take it every time someone does you wrong? If you don't rage against the machine, then who will!?) [Pulling off her tiara, Ayako gets a frowny look on her face.] Ayako: (But when that top women wrestler poll came out, you didn't complain at all. Wasn't that injustice too?) [Miyuki laughs.] Miyuki: (Oh come on, who actually believed the results of *that* thing? Do you honestly think there's nineteen women that stand above me in the world of wrestling? That had to be some sort of bad photoshop, right?) [She dismisses the results with a wave of her hand.] Miyuki: (Those results would imply that I'm not absolutely and unanimously loved and adored by the public at large and we all know that's a completely impossible possibility!) [She laughs.] Miyuki: (And even in the unlikely event that it's legitimate - although it's not - the results would obviously be the product of ignorant, xenophobic fear!) Ayako: (Fear of what?) [Miyuki strikes a dramatic pose and shoots a finger into the air!] Miyuki: (The rise of the Japanese superwoman!) [You go, girl!] Ayako: (Come on, Miyuki, there were like..._twenty_ Japanese women on that poll. Maybe even more! I mean...even *I* made it!) [Our bleach-blonde beauty seems far from impressed.] Miyuki: (And where exactly did *you* finish?) [Ayako lowers her head.] Ayako: (...dead last.) [Shaking her head at her poor, dumb, gifted student, Miyuki suddenly stops and gets a confused look on her face.] Miyuki: (Actually...how did you even end up on that poll at all? I didn't say you could be popular yet!) [Her eyes narrow.] Miyuki: (It was your mother voting, wasn't it?) [She points an accusing finger.] Miyuki: (I knew she coddled you too much!) [Ayako holds up her hands defensively.] Ayako: (Look, leave my mom out of this. We...we should focus on your match!) [Miyuki takes the large tome and tosses it at Ayako, who is knocked back into her chair as she catches it.] Miyuki: (I already have all I need to know. Eveline's a mentally unstable woman filled with several easily exploitable neuroses. What else is there to learn? We'll make her suffer another traumatic mental breakdown and then I'll smash her face in with my go-go boot while she's stuck in a fetal position sucking her thumb.) [There's a definite swag in her step now. If Miyuki's outfit had a collar, she'd pop it.] Miyuki: (We got this.) [Ayako still seems a bit worried, though.] Ayako: (You read the _entire_ report, right? Even the part about the possible outcomes of breaking her mind so soon after her last trauma?) [Ayako leafs through the pages and then spins the book back around to Miyuki, pointing to a section of text on the page.] Ayako: (You know...the part where I wrote that driving her insane again might put her into a state of madness where she becomes a raging, murderous beast?) [Just then, Michiko speaks up.] Michiko: (That's the same part of the report that had _us_ worried.) [The honey brown brunette turns to Miyuki, reaching into her bag.] Michiko: (You know Miyuki....maybe we'd be better off if you used this.) [Michiko places a bottle of hair dye on the table. The color? _Black._] Michiko: (It's just that...) [She turns and looks at the other girls, before turning back to Miyuki.] Michiko: (...well, me and the girls would probably feel a lot better about this match, if you went into it channeling the unholy, demonic powers that you inherited by festering within your mother's immortal womb for nine months, that you used to against Nina Grimsson.) [Ayako gets an appalled look on her face.] Ayako: (Do you realize just how stupid that sounds, Michiko? Do you think just turning Miyuki's hair black and making her look like her mother somehow gives her superhuman abilities?) Miyuki: (Yeah, what the hell are you thinking, Michiko?) [There's a triumphant look on Ayako's face as her mentor agrees with her for once.] Ayako: (See?) [Miyuki rolls her eyes at her charges.] Miyuki: (OBVIOUSLY...I would need to wear the black dress, too!) [Michiko and the rest of the girls turn to each other and slap themselves in the forehead, as if to say "Oh, of course! How silly of us!" Meanwhile, Ayako can only respond, dumbfounded.] Ayako: (WHAT!?) [Everyone simply ignores her.] Miyuki: (Anyhow...the overwhelming force of nature that is a regular Japanese woman should be more than enough for Eveline Eriksen, demonic superpowers or not.) [Miyuki smiles and gives a double "V for victory!" when she says this. Never before, has planning to exploit someone's mental illness looked so adorable.] Miyuki: (So, lets go, girls! We have a crazy bitch to drive into further states of insanity!) [They then walk away, leaving behind a befuddled Ayako, who clutches her psychoanalysis of Eveline Eriksen's fragile mental state close to her heart. She frowns for a moment, before turning and shouting down the hall at Miyuki.] Ayako: (You don't have unholy demonic powers, damnit!) [Fade out.] SS: Damn subtitles. Gives me a headache every time. _______ ________ _______ _______ ______ ______ | | | | | | ___|----------------------| | | __ \ | | | | | | | ___| WRITER: | | __ « ---| |_______|________|___| MB |__|_|__|______/______| Rampage Bloody Rampage Rampage Bloody Rampage EMPRESS CUP FIRST ROUND MATCH: "Viking Vixen" Eveline Eriksen versus Miyuki Ozaki ---------------------------------------------------------------------- [Whale's "Pay For Me" hits the sound system like a pallet of bricks, and while the spot lights blink, dazzle and flash, "Viking Vixen" Eveline Eriksen tramples down the ramp towards the ring in her trademark entrance wear; a hornless metal helm, a white fur cape, and a chip on her shoulder the size of Sweden. She looks especially angry, tonight. In fact, "angry" no longer seems to do her state of mind justice... It's no wonder sugar daddy/manager William Houlder and 7' foot bodyguard Lilly Fawne-Dorsey keep their distance, walking down the ramp far behind Eriksen, trying to blend in with the booing fans.] SS: I hear Eveline's being sequestered at the hotel she's staying at, due to her recent diagnosis. AM: Huh, what diagnosis? SS: Haven't you heard? Bezerker Psychosis. She's so on edge right now, she'd just as soon attack you or I as Miyuki. AM: So how's that any different than normal? The woman's a lunatic. DR: Psychosis? There's a name I hoped we'd never hear again on a UWF broadcast. [The crowd began to cheer loudly as "Sexy Bitch" cranked up over the PA system next, but as Miyuki and her entourage made their way out Eriksen suddenly broke from the ring and charged right up the aisle to tackle the lithe Ozaki right in the entryway. With several inches on her, Eveline was able to scoop Miyuki up on her shoulder and carry her to the ring, but on approach Ozaki slid free and shoved Double E into the edge of the ring, then struck with a roundhouse knee. Amazingly the match managed to get into the ring and start, though not well for Miyuki as another daredevil maneuver was countered by Eriksen sidestepping and letting her get tangled into the ropes.] DR: It's a bad start for Miyuki who is at the mercy of Eveline Eriksen. And all as Miyuki's dancers look on. SS: Why is one of them wearing a sash? AM: Did you even bother to watch the segment before this? SS: I told you, I hate subtitles. [Despite their words of encouragement, Ozaki was unable to withstand an early barrage of knees, kicks and punches by the larger woman. Eveline scooped Miyuki up and hit a number of backbreakers, trying to ground Ozaki and keep her from getting any momentum, alternating with a pair of pin attempts after a German suplex and a double underhook powerbomb respectively. The spritely Miyuki was finally able to stop the madwoman's assault with a sudden backfist, and a pair of quick buzzsaw kicks allowed her to run and jump off the ropes. She springboarded off the second rope and hurled herself at Eveline with a crossbody! But Eriksen caught her, swung Miyuki to the side and brought her crashing to the mat with a powerful swinging side slam! Landing a kneedrop next on the Osakan's head before pulling her up and hoisting her up even higher in a gorilla press. The Viking Vixen took a pair of strained, shaky steps, and hurled Miss Ozaki over the top rope, right on top of her thrall of dancers!] DR: She took out all of them! AM: Except Miyuki... her dancers softened the fall! [Rising from the pile of bodies, a defiant Miyuki stares back into the ring at Eveline, pulling down her lower eyelid and sticking out her tongue at the Nordic Narcissist! If Eveline can make anything look smoking hot, Miyuki never fails to make any quirky pose extra cute!] DR: Ozaki back up onto the ring apron- but a running forearm sends her back to the floor! Eveline Eriksen defiantly telling her foe that the ring is _her_ domain. AM: I thought the rubber room was her domain. SS: She's bordering on psychotic, Amy. Are you trying to kill us all!?! DR: Miyuki up again, here comes Eveline- leg trip by Miyuki! Catapult rolling elbow! [Ozaki, seizing an opening over Eveline, nailed a perfect standing senton to knock the wind out of her before opening up with some high impact offense using the ropes as you'd expect. A moonsault just about turned into a powerslam by the enraged beauty, but Miyuki countered quickly with a tornado inverted DDT into the mat. Nothing however managed to slow down Eriksen, who kept absorbing the punishment and coming back for more. Miyuki's dancers tried to shout and distract the tall blonde, but to no avail as a gigantic boot to the head stunned Ozaki and led to a double foot stomp complete with bloodcurdling scream by Eriksen as she hit it.] AM: Good god! SS: Ozaki's nothing more than a smear on the mat and a memory in our hearts now. DR: Why is Eveline not going for the cover? Her manager is pleading with her to just end the match, but she seems to want no part of it and is picking her opponent up with murder in her eyes. Death Valley Bo- ENZUIGIRI TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD! [The Osakan landed nimbly on her feet as Eveline shook it off and tried to grab her again. Miyuki grabs Eveline by the hair and headbutts her which... doesn't seem to do anything. Undeterred, still holding on to the Viking Vixen's hair, Miyuki steps back, lifts a leg, belches a power- scream and rams her head into Eveline's!] SS: Ack! My ears! DR: Another headbutt! AM: My goodness, Eveline barely looks phased! [Frustrated now, Miyuki channels all of Asian might to summon the ultra- mega-turbo version, with a scream so loud at least two spotlights above the ring explode~!] SS: MY EARS! I'VE GONE DEAF! WHY DO WE NOT HAVE EARPLUGS HERE!?!? DR: A third headbutt, and Eveline Eriksen falls down to one knee! SS: I CAN'T HEAR ANYTHING! IT'S LIKE A BOMB WENT OFF NEXT TO ME! WHITE NOISE! [Miyuki ran back to Eveline, stepped on her extended knee and axe kicked the top of her head in with a savage Wizard of Ozaki~! Finally, Eveline Eriksen crumpled to the mat, and Miyuki was quick to hook a leg. Unfortunately for her, the close proximity to the ropes saved the Viking Vixen from the three count. Soon after, as both women returned to their feet an exchange of straight punches seemed to be going Eveline's way until a block and another "Goodnight, Sweet Princess" backfist stunned her enough to be sent toppling over the ropes.] DR: And she sends Eriksen to the outside, with perhaps a knockout blow! SS: I doubt that, she's more anger than person at this point. Her hatred will destroy us all! [The Nordic Nightmare again rose to her feet, and this time was sent crashing to the cement thanks to a huge plancha dive from Miyuki. With Eveline reeling, it was at this time that Ozaki chose to poke the bear one more time and stage a reenactment of the Miss Morality pageant. Ayako, still wearing the crown and sash, waved at the crowd as Miyuki picked up a bucket and upon coming eye to eye once more with Eveline Eriksen...] AM: She just dumped a bucket of confetti on that poor girl's head. What the hell is going on? SS: I'll tell you what's going on... just as soon as I get the hell out here. [The look on the face of Eveline Eriksen is a curious sight. Mostly because the usually pale complexion is already scarlet, and on the verge of a purple shade as she shakes with what can only be described as rage.] SS: BERZERKER! BERSERKER! [While the Japanese girls still laugh, an infuriated Eveline rips the bucket out of Miyuki's hands and bonks her on the head with it! When Ayako turns, Eriksen throws the bucket at her head, then chokes Ayako with her own beauty pageant sash!] DR: I think Eveline Eriksen may have lost her mind! This match is over, the referee I think is disqualifying Eriksen for this insane SS: Hey! Berserker Psychosis is a serious condition! AM: Here comes Hana! [Hana jumps on Eveline's back and applies a triangle choke to the Norwegian, setting Ayako free... which is a good thing because she was starting to turn purple. Carrying Hana on her back, Eveline stumbles around until she manages to pry Hana off with some kind of snap mare and slams her right on the ringside mat!] SS: That must have hurt! [While Kiyomi picks up Miyuki to carry her back up the aisle, Eveline turns to face two more of Miyuki's dancers, side by side; Michiko and Yumi. The two girls seem paralyzed, Michiko scrambling to hide behind little Yumi!] SS: Am I seeing right? Miyuki's running away? AM: Kiyomi's carrying away, that's not the-... Look out, Yumi! [Suddenly Michiko makes her move and pushes her friend into the charging Valkyrie's path! Yumi trips into Eveline's arms and she picks her up, lifts the lightweight wrestler and throws her right on top of Ayako who had barely gotten back to her feet! Finally, Lilly the Giant snaps into action, when William Houlder charges her with the important mission of retrieving the berserk Norwegian... but Eveline's chasing after Michiko, who bravely jumps over the barricades to gamely flee through the crowd!] DR: Michiko runs, and the Viking Vixen chases her through the crowd! AM: And Lilly's trying to catch up, too! SS: Did you see that freak? Just walked over the barricade like it was nothing! DR: Perhaps it's a sign of the times, this company is like a runaway freight train tonight. If you're just joining us tonight, Allison Chambers and Kyle Lee were brutally attacked at the hands of Gamma Ray and the diabolical Guard at the top of tonight's show. AM: I'd say Gamma Ray was going to burn in hell for this, but the more I think about it I think Kyle's going to do much worse things to him inside that cage in Dallas. SS: I just hope and pray Eveline is alright. AM: Oh shut up. DR: In a few moments we have the fourth match in the UWF/MBC World Series coming up. Before we get back to the ring, here's a recap of what's gone down thus far. [And we cut to footage of the past matches in the World Series competition between the UWF and MBC: Ryu and Bonn taking on the Problem Solvers in the first match... Ryu Osawa snaps Davidson's head off the top rope to set up perfectly for the Skyscreamer to allow Michael Bonn to score the victory and unify the world tag team titles. Graphic: UWF 1, MBC 0 We switch to match #2 next as Serge Annis battles Jonas "Dutch" Elm. And despite power moves from both men it comes down to Annis taking a beatdown by several masked Guardsmen... followed by Serge being dropped on his head with a Tree Cutter for the stunning upset pin by Elm. Graphic: UWF 1, MBC 1 And now last week's match between Gabriel Whitecross and Jerry Titus... Thunderous clotheslines from both men, then a powerslam from the MBC representative. Whitecross attempts a German suplex, only for the lights to suddenly go out. In the end, Harley Sanders nails the crooked referee only to count Whitecross down fast, giving the UWF North American Championship as well as the series lead to Jerry Titus and the MBC. Graphic: MBC 2, UWF 1 We end on a graphic for tonight's all important contest, between GMT Champion Max Benson and Unified Television Champion Tommy Stephens.] DR: So it comes down to this, a victory by Tommy tonight and we tie up the world series. A loss and we're staring at a very, very big hole. AM: Regardless of how you do tonight Tommy, you're a champion of the UWF. That's a pretty big accomplishment. SS: And if you lose, you're outta the family. Pinhead: It should be noted that neither title is going to be on the line tonight. Slush: Talk about a letdown. _______ ________ _______ _______ ______ ______ | | | | | | ___|----------------------| | | __ \ | | | | | | | ___| WRITER: | | __ « ---| |_______|________|___| MB |__|_|__|______/______| Rampage Bloody Rampage Rampage Bloody Rampage UWF/MBC WORLD SERIES MATCH FOUR: Max Benson [MBC-2] vs. Tommy Stephens (UWF-1) ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ["Superficial" played as Tommy Stephens entered, carrying the TV title as well as the weight of a company on his back. With a look of concern on his face as he stepped into the ring, Tommy lifted the title belt over his head as the synthesized opening of Thomas Dolby's "She Blinded Me With Science" hits the PA system.] DR: The UWF's hopes rest with Tommy Stephens as... as... Well good lord, look at this. [Max Benson came into the arena sporting a different look as expected, but to call it bizarre would be kind. Wearing a white lab coat and goggles, his hair pointing in all directions, Benson's role for the evening cemented by the announcement.] DH: And his opponent... "MAD SCIENCE" MAX BENSON! [Benson approached the ring with caution as Stephens looked on from inside, only able to watch as Benson removed the coat and goggles to hang them on the ringpost before ducking through the ropes.] SS: I was about to say I'm worried that we have to rely on Tommy Stephens to tie up this competition... but I'm kinda liking our chances now. Pinhead: Quirks aside, Max is a damn fine wrestler when the bell rings. He wouldn't be wearing MBC gold if he wasn't. Slush: Would you say he has the skills to pay the bills? Pinhead: I would. Slush: Then do it. Pinhead: No. [When the bell rang Benson and Stephens shook hands and locked up, trading holds early as textbook as could be. Each took their opponent down for a near count, then allowed them to rise back up to start fresh again with the crowd applauding both men.] DR: Unlike last week, at least we don't have to worry about crooked officiating and outside entities. Slush: You're just jealous you guys don't have a master strategist like Harley on your side. DR: The day Harley Sanders becomes a master strategist is the day I retire. [Tommy sidestepped a rushing Benson for a schoolboy attempt, and kept him down after a series of attacks on the back including a flying elbow from the second rope. An Irish whip is blocked and countered into a trip by his MBC counterpart, who quickly applied a figure-four leglock. With his opponent in the submission hold Max sat up and asked for the microphone. What followed was a lengthy monologue from the "Mad Scientist" about how he was going to "destroy" Tommy Stephens and eventually take over the world. In fact, he got so into his monologue that he didn't realize Stephens had escaped it and was standing behind him... Until a baseball slide dropkick knocked him clear out of the ring!] Slush: Hey! You don't interrupt a scientific genius in the middle of a pondering! SS: He's already intent on owning the world, does it really matter if we're witness to the birth of a super villain? DR: [sighing] I had to draw the short straw. [Benson tripped Tommy up as he tried to exit the ring, resulting in a bout of maniacal laughter from the MBC competitor as he delivered a bodyslam on the floor. The match went back and forth until Benson rolled back into the ring, as Tommy grabbed him and snapped him backwards into the top rope with a reverse hotshot as it were, propelling Max facefirst into the canvas. A Super SAMOAN Superkick followed, and Benson once again rolled to the outside for a breather.] Pinhead: Max seems to be looking for something in his coat pocket... what the heck is that? SS: Oh god, I've seen that before! He's got the Super-Soldier Serum! Dude's gonna become Captain America! Slush: You fool, he's just going to mutate into some hideous beastly creature. Pinhead: I seriously doubt he's going to turn into Mr. Hyde. Slush: No, I meant Lady Gaga. [Benson drank the vial that was in his coat pocket, and soon returned to the ring with a lot more energy than before. Tommy's punches seemed to have no effect, even the dreaded SAMOAN drop seemed to have little impact with Benson returning to his feet and chopping Tommy down. The only thing that finally worked was a good old fashioned groin kick, halting Benson's rampage. Tommy went for broke soon after, trying to win the match with the Tommy Stephens-Style Senton only for Benson to raise his knees up as a counter.] Slush: Aha! A secret weapon! SS: But how?!? How could he possibly know Tommy's one weakness? DR: Stephens is reeling... BENSON HITS AN ACE CRUSHER! Slush: Behold, the Doomsday Weapon! DR: One! Two! Three! And that's it! Max Benson just pushed MBC up three to one in the World Series! [The strains of Thomas Dolby start up once more as Benson rolls to his knees, cackling madly once again at the "utter destruction of a good man". Tommy exits the ring, holding his head.] DH: Here is your winner... MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAX BENNNNNNNNNNSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNN! And now leading in the World Series by a score of THREE wins to ONE... THE M... B... C! AM: This is not good! We're down three to one now, we've got to win the last three matches to take the series. SS: That's it Stephens, you're fired! DR: Fans, we have to take a break right now but we'll be back with the second hour of the show. [We cut to the backstage area. Sure, we could describe the area but in the decades that this hobby has been around, do we really need to? A backstage area in one place is just as generic as a backstage area in another. There are crates and pipes and catering, you name it. You _imagine it._ I trust you buddy. Let your mind go wild. We can be all "Hey, its Inception!" without Leo DiCaprio and that chick who was in "Juno". But what we will not leave up to your imagination is the figure of a woman. No, not that "Juno" chick. Becky Carlisle-Skullhead, Commissioner of the MBC side of the roster. She seems mad, which may or may not be new to you. Did you know she practices voodoo? If you didn't, you do now. She's wearing a smart-looking business suit and is poking her head down any corridor or into any door she happens to pass. It's quite apparent that she's on a hero's journey of sorts, searching for something... or someone.] Random Guy: Hey delicious! [Most certainly not this guy. He's wearing a trench coat, a knit cap and inexplicably, he's chewing upon a piece of straw.] Random Guy: Here to check out my stuff? [Carlisle-Skullhead's eyes grow thin, as if she's imagining his head spontaneously combusting. If only she had her voodoo doll...] Random Guy: I've got Luke Kinsey T-shirts, Gamma Ray thermoses, Eveline Eriksen inflatable sex dolls... [This peddler of goods opens his trench coat to reveal a plethora of unauthorized UWF/MBC merchandise. How he got back to the backstage, we'll never know... or he'll never tell.] BCS: Do you know who I am? Random Guy: You're a potential customer. You look like you could use a Scott Daniels brand toaster. BCS: I'm the Commissioner of the MBC and for right now, I'm in charge of the whole promotion. I don't even have to ask if any of that merchandise is authorized or legit. How the Hell did you get back here? Random Guy: I know a dude who knows a guy. I'll tell him you said hello. [Maybe it was one of those pesky Trey DaMann "spies?"] BCS: You know, I'm kind of busy looking for a guy. I'll send somebody to beat you up later. Random Guy: I know exactly what you need. [The peddler rolls up his left sleeve revealing numerous pink bands, all of which have the letters "W.W.A.M.D.?" printed upon then.] BCS: W.W.A.M.D.? Random Guy: "What Would Aunt Maria Do?" BCS: Oh you're asking for it with that one. Random Guy: Listen lady, I don't even know who the hell this Aunt Maria broad is, but-... [Karma. How else can you explain what happens next? Through divine intervention, random act of voodoo curse, or the awesome wrath of Aunt Maria, a football suddenly flies through the air and well...] Random Guy: OH MY GROIN! [He immediately crumples over, twitching in exquisite pain. Meanwhile, off-camera, a familiar female voice screams out in Japanese.] "(Damnit, Yumi!)" [Becky gives a shifty-eyed look for a second, not quite sure what the hell just happened, before stepping over the peddler's prone form and continues on her merry way. She doesn't have to walk far, before she stops dead in her tracks.] BCS: I finally found you. [The camera cuts to a dejected-looking man. His head hangs low and his posture is slouched; the very sight of him mirroring the absolute misery of his being. His expressionless face gives away nothing, but his eyes...those cold, dead soulless eyes look up, staring straight at Becky Carlisle-Skullhead with vague indifference. This is a man who's very existence is anathema to all around him. A bitter, rage-filled malcontent. UWF/MBC's resident curmudgeon. And quite possibly, the greatest wrestler walking on the planet. Juan Vasquez. He's also got a pretty awesome dress shirt/necktie/hoodie combination going on...not that it's important, but it 's still pretty awesome. ] JV: Well...I ain't exactly trying to hide. [Usually he'd say this with a smirk or a grin...in some sort of smart-alecky way. But in his current state? It's just a deadpan delivery meant to be taken in the most literal way.] BCS: Around here, things get lost in the circus. JV: ...Right. [Awkward silence. Juan's not exactly in the mood to laugh right now.] JV: So...did you actually have something to say to me or did you just think it would be fun to waste my time? BCS: I have a proposition for you, Mr. Vasquez. [Juan frowns.] JV: Now, it's not like I haven't entertained the idea...but we're both married people, Becky. And no offense, but you're not really my type. [Becky narrows her eyes at him.] BCS: It's not that sort of proposition. [She seems slightly annoyed. What does he mean she's not his type?] BCS: I want to put you in a match tonight. [This causes Juan to chuckle.] JV: Really? Last I heard, that wasn't in your job description. BCS: Since Lee and Chambers are out for the rest of the night, I'm next in line. Heartbeat away and all that. JV: Do you even realize what you're doing? If you were paying attention, Lee wasn't too happy about what I did to Epstein. Made me write a lot of checks and put me on double-secret probation. I'm not supposed to be wrestling on this show. BCS: Didn't you hear me? I'm in charge now. Consider that order lifted. JV: Just like that, huh? [Juan snaps his fingers.] JV: If you could do that, why even bother telling me? You're a big girl, ain't you? Just go ahead and make your match. [It's Becky's turn to shake her head.] BCS: You don't get it. I want to put you in a match against Gamma Ray. [Juan blinks, a somewhat confused look appearing on his face. There has to be more to this than that.] JV: That's it? [He shakes his head.] JV: If that's all you wanted, why even go to all this trouble? Was Erik Grimsson too busy painting his nails or something? [Juan holds up his hand and twiddles his fingers.] JV: I can't be the only person on this roster you could find who would want to wrestle him, so I have to ask... Why me? [Becky sighs.] BCS: You don't get it. I'm not Lee. Or Chambers. Right now, I don't really care about how you wrestle... ...or how you hurt somebody. [That caught Juan's attention. His eyes open wide for a split-second, before a barely visible smirk appears on his face.] JV: I knew it. [A chuckle.] JV: I just didn't think you'd actually say it. [The commish stares at Vasquez with a serious look on her face.] BCS: Juan, I need somebody to take him down a peg and anybody I can think of on the MBC roster is busy or unavailable. But on UWF side, well...I can't think of anybody better to... [Juan stops her and shakes his head.] JV: That's all well and good, Becky...but what makes you think I'd want to help *you*? [Becky meets Juan's gaze with a smile.] BCS: How about a world title shot at Heaven and Hell? [Woah. There's a short period of silence after Becky says that. After a moment, Juan looks up with a serious expression on his face.] JV: You're kidding, right? Lee would never-... [Becky holds up a contract in one hand and a pen in the other.] BCS: Like I told you...I'm in charge now. [Juan cautiously takes the contract from her hand, an unsure look on his face. He stares at the document closely, still not quite believing what Becky just did.] BCS: So...do we have a deal? [After a few seconds of reading, Juan looks up at Becky. He doesn't say a word...and reaches for her pen.] BCS: I suppose that's a "Yes." [Juan hands back the contract to Becky, who smiles, satisfied with completing her objective. However, as she turns to walk away, Juan yells out to her.] JV: You know what's the funny thing, Becky? [She stops and turns back around.] JV: I would've done this for free. [There's a smile on Juan's face now, but surprisingly, Becky meets his smile with one of her own.] BCS: I knew that. [Juan looks at her momentarily with a confused look on his face.] BCS: You don't think I knew about that offer you gave to Chambers? JV: Then why even... BCS[Grinning]: I guess you can say...it's out of the goodness of my own heart. [Nice one, Becky. Juan smiles, genuinely impressed by the lady commish.] JV: You're just full of surprises, ain't you? [Laughing, Juan turns to leave, although the moment he turns his back to Becky, that smile turns back into a grim, bitter look of pure misery. A promise of the pain to come. Becky is left there standing. After a moment, she can only close her eyes and remark to herself.] BCS: Now _that_ is how you do a contract signing. [Fade to obsidian.] |
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| DaveG | Mar 6 2011, 05:18 PM Post #3 |
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Bushido Brown
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I'm sure I missed something, but wasn't there a Martin/Martinez vs. LeBlanc/Rogers match scheduled? I seem to remember Bob and I doing a flash for it.
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| Flouzemaker | Mar 6 2011, 05:21 PM Post #4 |
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The Luther Burger
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That's in hour 2, Dave. |
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| DaveG | Mar 6 2011, 05:38 PM Post #5 |
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Bushido Brown
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Ahh, see, I thought this was the whole show, as it wasn't labeled "hour one" and it ended with a fade
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| KliqerT | Mar 11 2011, 10:33 PM Post #6 |
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Doughy
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________ __ __ ____ | ___ \ ______ | \ / || _ \ ______ _____ _____ \ \__| \ / ___ || \/ || | \ \ / ___ | / ___ \ | ___| \ __ // /___| || |\ /| || |_/ // /___| | / / /_/ | |_ \ \ \ \ \ ___ || | \/ |_|| __/ \ ___ || | ___ | _| \_\ \ \ \ \ | ||_| | | \ \ | || | |_ || |_______ \_\ \_\ |_| |_| \_\ |_| \ \___| ||_________\ ______ \_____/ | _ | __ ____ ____ _____ _ _ | |/ / / / / _ \ / _ \\ \ / \ / \ | _ \ / / / / / // / / // /\ \\ \/ / | |/ // /___/ /_/ // /_/ // /_/ / \ / |____//_____/\____/ \____//______/ | | ________ __ __ ____ | / | ___ \ ______ | \ / || _ \ ______ |/____ _____ \ \__| \ / ___ || \/ || | \ \ / ___ | / ___ \ | ___| \ __ // /___| || |\ /| || |_/ // /___| | / / /_/ | |_ \ \ \ \ \ ___ || | \/ |_|| __/ \ ___ || | ___ | _| \_\ \ \ \ \ | ||_| | | \ \ | || | |_ || |_______ \_\ \_\ |_| |_| \_\ |_| \ \___| ||_________\ \_____/ 10-23-10 Hour Two New Orleans Arena in New Orleans, Louisiana ["Hey Man, Nice Shot" by Filter begins to play, as Stan Crawford exits the locker room and walks down the aisle. Those in the crowd who are MBC fans (and/or who are bloodthirsty) give Stan a nice ovation as he walks to the ring. He's wearing street clothes - a pair of jeans and a black button down shirt.] Skullhead: I'm looking at our schedule here, and I can't see Crawford. Slush: You go tell him he's not supposed to be here. [Crawford grabs the microphone from ringside and climbs up the steps, into the ring. His music stops playing, and the crown goes quiet as he begins to talk.] Stan Crawford: I know I'm not scheduled to come out here tonight, and as you can see, I'm not exactly dressed for the occasion. I've been in the back tonight, watching the chaos, and I had an idea. My crew is up 3-1 in this World Series, and I have a proposal. I want the opportunity to end this, tonight! [The crowd, always up for a good fight, cheers.] SC: I've had a problem with a man named Tom Landis for a while now. Landis, a few weeks back, you proved what a traitor you are. You had the opportunity to fight on Team MBC. Instead, you betrayed us. You became a hero to UWF wrestlers and fans everywhere. I have a proposal. Myself versus Tom Landis in the 5th and hopefully final match in the World Series! [The crowd pops. Crawford smirks and continues.] SC: It's an honor to represent the MBC. Those of you who have followed my career know that I've had my greatest successes in the MBC. I've held championships, won tournaments, and stood above everybody else. I'd like to think I'm respected in the back. I would consider it an honor to bring the World Series home for the MBC, and, quite frankly, it would make me happy beyond words to beat Tom Landis, Hero of the UWF, in the process. If Tom Landis has any guts, he'll come out here. I'd love to hear his answer. [Stan waits, but not for long as the opening strains of "You Know My Name" by Chris Cornell suddenly play over the PA system. As the crowd cheers loudly, Stan folds his arms and stands in center ring as Landis emerges from the back dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt with the MBC logo on it.] Skullhead: This has taken an interesting turn here, Tom Landis does not officially work for the UWF but Stan's challenge would effectively have him place the weight of the company on his shoulders. Slush: Like the jackwagon wouldn't go back if he could. The truth is nobody in the UWF wants him back. Course, we don't want him either. You're a man without a country Landis. [Tom slides into the ring as Crawford smirks at his nemesis. He picks up a second microphone and addresses Stan.] TL: Look Crawford, what is your damn problem? I don't know how many times I have to point out to you that I'm _not_ under UWF contract, and I'm MBC through and through. See, as I recall a few weeks ago I offered to fight on Team MBC, but got turned down. And what happened? Oh that's right. YOU LOST. [An audible "Ooooooh" goes through the crowd, as Stan's eyes boil over with hatred in them.] TL: At any rate, you don't have the authority to make a match between us tonight. Certainly not as part of the world series, and to make me a UWF representative makes even less sense than making you captain of Team MBC. If you're looking for a fight, then fine. But don't go overstepping your bounds, man. [Tom drops his microphone and raises his fists, as Crawford sneers. Just as things are about to get even more heated, the Megatron comes alive with the image of MBC Commissioner Becky Carlisle-Skullhead. She doesn't look pleased to have to get involved here. Not in the slightest.] BCS: You know, with you two, it used to be so simple. I could say fight and it'd already be too late because you'd already be knocking each other's teeth in by the time I finished the sentence. Stan, you need better ways to communicate than hijacking my show. We've already got enough divas trying to dictate how things should be around here. I don't need another. And Tom, the point I think your missing is that you may only be on the MBC roster but as we all saw during that mini Pride reunion, you've got UWF blood running through your veins. [Landis tries to protest, but alas he has no microphone to speak into. Not that Becky would listen to him right now anyways.] Right now, I'm talking to somebody with a MBC legacy challenging somebody with a UWF legacy. I say you two fight. I say this will be a World Series match. And for the love of God, just get it over with! [And Becky's image disappears off the Megatron as Crawford grins.] SC: Thank you, Ms. Carlisle! Good luck, Tom. You're going to need it. Pinhead: Wow, I guess this is happening after all! _______ ________ _______ _______ ______ ______ | | | | | | ___|----------------------| | | __ \ | | | | | | | ___| WRITER: | | __ « ---| |_______|________|___| MB |__|_|__|______/______| Rampage Bloody Rampage Rampage Bloody Rampage UWF/MBC WORLD SERIES MATCH FIVE: "Shotgun" Stan Crawford [MBC-3] vs. "Hellraiser" Tom Landis (UWF-1) ---------------------------------------------------------------------- [Before the bell rang Crawford and Landis were exchanging shots, leading to dueling "UWF" and "MBC" chants whenever one of them would strike. An exasperated Landis tried to remind the crowd again that he wasn't a UWF employee, but it just led to Stan mowing him down with a hard clothesline.] DR: Now wait just a minute, I refuse to believe this is a valid match as far as the competition goes! Skullhead: You heard my wife, it's official. Tom Landis is representing you guys, like it or not. AM: You know what? That's fine, Tom's a former UWF World Champion. He'll pull us right back into this thing. Slush: Aren't you the chick who's married to him? AM: That's my sister, moron. Slush: Oh, so 'officially' that's a no. It's still all _IN_ the family though right? [SLAP!] SS: Ow! AM: Sorry, you were closer. [Crawford started to work Landis over in the corner, delivering shot after shot to the head and then suplexing him out of the corner for a near cover. Tom was able to break his opponent's flow by getting a foot up into Crawford's stomach, rolling to his feet and took the Shotgun down with a tackle into the ropes. They fell through to the outside apron, where Landis took Stan down with a legsweep to the floor. Crawford caught a leaping Landis in a bearhug and swung him into the ringpost, but inadvertently rammed his own shoulder into the unforgiving metal post moments later.] DR: Crawford and Landis are starting to tear each other up in this impromptu match, but it's the UWF who's in a position to lose a lot here. Skullhead: Oh stop complaining, it is what it is. DR: You know- AM: Uh, Tom heading back into the ring! [After Landis returned to his feet he caught Crawford with a kneelift to prevent him from returning to the ring and applied a hammerlock to try and ram him into the cornerpost again. Crawford blocked it with his leg and instead sent Tom crashing to the turnbuckles. As soon as he climbed back into the ring he went after Landis once again, but Landis caught him with a roaring elbow from the corner to stagger his foe. It didn't knock Crawford down, so Landis backed up and went for a second...] Pinhead: 12 GAUGE! ONE! TWO! THREE! AM: NO! Skullhead: It's over! WE WIN! Slush: Excelsior! Hakuna Matata! DH: Here is your winner... STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAWFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFOOOOOOOOOOORRD! As a result, the winners of the World Series... MIIIIIIIIIIIGHTY BAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSTARRRRRRRRRRRRD CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMPIONSHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP! SS: Wait, that's what MBC stands for? That's idiotic! Slush: Suck it, you leather wearing fraud! SS: Your victory is hollow, you hamster wingmanning freak! AM: So this is what it's like... when idiots cry. DR: I still fail to see how this is a justifiable victory, but so be it. Congratulations to MBC on its victory tonight, as they win the World Series competition four to one. Pinhead: And thank you for the half-hearted concession speech, we'll take it and celebrate anyways. [Ever see somebody walk with swagger? Probably, but you've not seen this kind of swagger, a confident hyped up on caffeine swagger. Possibly a swagger that's trying to impress a girl? Who knows. But what you have now is Tommy Elliot strolling down the hallway with one hand in his pocket and another holding a large thermos, most likely filled with Thrillseeker brand rocket fuel (now with bonus caffeine!). At his side is fellow Insanity Society member Tommy Jackson.] TJ: I don't know. You could probably get more thrust if you increase the intake by at least ten percent. TE: But is it enough to launch me over the Arch in St. Louis? TJ: Maybe twenty percent then. [Regardless of how Tommy E. is walking and what they're discussing, the two Insaniteers (yes, I just made that up) walk up to a door that reads "Insanity Society Dressing Room." Standing on one side of the door with her arms crossed as if patiently waiting for something is Insanity Society manager Tawni Northern.] TE: Is he still rampaging? Tawni: Worse. He's quiet. TJ: That's good though right? Tawni: Definitely not. It means he's plotting. TJ: Plotting? Aren't you the brains of our outfit? Tawni: Yes, however, I use my brains when the signs tell me that I need to take a step back. TJ: Signs? TE: This is the calm before the storm. TJ: So this is bad? Tawni: He treated that Slurpee machine like a brother. TJ: Like a brother? TE: A little brother. Very protective. I think you've seen how he gets about family. TJ: Yeah, I think I have. Tawni: And that's only part of it. TE: Oh no... don't tell me. Tawni: One of the Joe Reeds is missing. TJ: The Joe Reeds? TE: You know that collection of bronzed blobs he has in a portable trophy case? TJ: Yeah... those pieces of faces of his enemies he bit off... so gross... Tawni: One of the ones that belonged to Joe Reed is missing. Either stolen or lost in the chaos. And... oh quick before I forget... put these on. [Tawni tosses a black armband to both Tommies. A rustling behind the door encourages them both to put them on quickly. Just in the nick of time, Elliot and Jackson slip the bands on as the door to the dressing room swings wide open. There stands "The Dark Horse" Randall Osbourne dressed completely in black: boots, pants, shirt, tie, trench coat, sunglasses and all. One part mourning, one part...] TE: Sweet! Are we doing Matrix stuff? RO: It's time. TN: Oh God... it's gotten that bad. RO: Tommy may have started this by breaking Ryu's cock, but by God we're going to finish it! TE: It was an accident! I swear! I thought turkeys could fly! TJ: Trice is a rooster, Tommy. TE: I thought those could fly too. RO: First, we bury Rutiger J. Slurpee... TJ: That's the machine right? Tawni: Yes. TE: And then? RO: We go to war with Don't Go There. TE: But there's going to be Matrix stuff right? I've always wanted to dodge a bullet. [Fade.] SS: With all the caffeine he drinks, he's dodging a lot more than bullets. Blood pressure, sleep deprivation, coronary artery disease... AM: I still don't buy that it was Ryu Osawa who trashed the Insanity Society locker room. That's just not something he'd do. SS: Yeah, who'd think a guy with the nickname "Hentai" would be unsavory? AM: All I'm saying is there's no proof. DR: Well, Randall Osbourne seems pretty sure. And proof or not, it looks like the tag team titles match at Heaven and Hell just got a lot more serious. SS: Like the heart attack that'll eventually kill the Thrillseeker. [Suddenly, Mrs. Chastity Davenport steps out, clapping her hands. The crowd immediately jeers the young woman. She's clad in a blue, pin- striped blazer and skirt combo, completing the look with heels. Her blonde hair is styled in a bun.] AM: Oh, no... just what we needed. SS: Let the woman speak her mind, Red. She paid to get this airtime. [Mrs. Davenport grins and motions for a microphone, which an attendant hands her. She makes her way down the aisle, descending the ramp.] CD: Let's hear it again for Eveline Eriksen, our Miss Morality 2010! [The crowd boos even louder.] CD: That's right! You all saw her earlier, right, against those shifty girls? She is the epitome of class and dignity. And she conducts herself with pride. She is a _true_ wrestler and not some harlot playing at the role, like Summer Blake. DR: Class and dignity? She went on a rampage! SS: It was a hot rampage, though. And that's even better! [Davenport ignores the heckling fans as she makes her way down the aisle.] CD: You see, Ms. Blake is a disgrace to this profession and the UWF wrestling ring. With her past, she has proven herself to be completely undeserving of the North American women's championship. [She makes her way up the stairs and enters the ring through the top and middle ropes.] CD: Honestly, what sort of role model does a former prostitute make for our children? Not a good one, that's for sure! Luckily, at Heaven and Hell, Ms. Eriksen will put an end to this reign of sin and depravity, when she takes that title and... [Suddenly, Pink's "Trouble" begins to play and the crowd is on their feet.] SS: Oh gawd! Who let the hookers out? [Summer Blake steps from behind the curtains, microphone in hand and glaring a hole through Chastity. Summer is clad in a black, halter top and black slacks, finishing the look with black Louboutins. Her hair is pulled back and styled in a bump ponytail, the North American Title draped over her shoulder. As her music dies, Chastity scowls out at her.] CD: Just what is the meaning of this!?! Mothers Opposing Pornography paid good money to ensure air ti.... SB: Just shut the [MEEP] up! SS: Meow! [Chastity opens her mouth in a mix of outrage and shock as the crowd pops. Summer glares at her, adjusting her title belt.] SB: I think you and your group of judgmental harpies have insulted our eardrums enough with your rhetoric. Now, it's _my_ turn to get _my_ say. [The crowd cheers as a clearly insulted Chastity sulks.] SB: I have had about enough of you coming out here and throwing dirt on my name. Do I have a past that I'm not particularly proud of? Damned right, I do. But I'd argue that I'm not the only one. I bet there are plenty of people in this building with skeletons, including yourself, Chas. [Chastity snarls at the thought as well as butchering of her name. Summer makes her way down the aisle, her gaze never leaving Chastity] SB: The only difference is that they don't have some group of nasty [MEEP]s breathing down their necks and constantly reminding them of it. Every. Freakin'. Day. [Summer sighs and rolls her eyes.] SB: Yes, I did some very stupid things, when I was a kid, things I felt I had to do to survive. I've never been proud of it, but I'd be lying if I didn't say those experiences helped shape me in many ways. But for you to stand there and say that that past somehow makes me undeserving of being a champion, well, it almost makes me want to come down there and slap the taste out of your mouth. [The crowd cheers as a nervous look crosses Chastity's face as Summer makes her way up the ringside stairs. She enters through the ropes and makes her way over to the now quacking M.O.P. member until the two are eye to eye.] SB: Everything I have, from my life to winning Angels and Amazons to this belt, was earned through my own hard work and determination. [The crowd cheers again.] SS: Is that what the kids are calling it these days? "Hard work and determination"? AM: Zip it, Sam. SB: Just ask Donna Tetreault. Or Erica Toughill. Or even my best friend, Tawny Blake. They will tell you. I worked _damned_ hard to get where I am. [pauses] Slut? Whore? Prostitute? [She shrugs.] SB: You can call me anything you want. But when you try to disregard my accomplishments and undermine the work I've done, then we've got a problem. But I can show you just as easily as show you. So, bring on Heaven and Hell because I can't wait to drag that worthless skank, you and your group are trotting around like a beauty queen, and beat her within an inch of her miserable life! CD: How dare y... SB: Did I say I was finished, [MEEP]!?! [The crowd cheers again as Chastity huffs.] SB: As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, I've been waiting to... [Summer hears the change in the crowd's reaction, and when she turns to look up the ramp, she sees her; Eveline Eriksen. The Viking Vixen practically sprints to the ring in and slides under the rope. She walks right over to Summer who barely had the time to slip off her Louboutins before the women immediately start trading blow after blow after blow!] SS: Now, things get interesting! [Summer kicks Eveline in the shin, then knees her in the stomach. Summer bounces into the ropes to launch a clothesline... but Miss Davenport grabs her arm and holds her back! After the champion pulls herself free and pushes the M.O.P. President away, she steps right into Eriksen's lariat!] SS: That'll teach her to run her mouth! Hookers should be seen and used up, not heard. AM: You're getting dangerously close.... [The crowd jeers as Summer hits the mat, her belt flying from her grasp. Eveline wastes little time in stomping on Summer's downed form. Grabbing a handful of her hair, Eveline yanks her to her feet and whips Summer to the nearest corner. The impact of the move sends Summer stumbling out of the corner and into a boot to the midsection that doubles her over.] AM: I don't like the looks of this. SS: But Davenport sure does! [Indeed. Chastity Davenport is grinning in anticipation, shouting words of encouragement. Eveline stands to Summer's back and puts the champion's arm through her legs, holding it and hooking the other arm.] AM: I know exactly what we're about to see, here! SS: Viking Hammer! [Sure enough, Eveline lifts Summer overhead and makes a running start, sitting out and drilling Summer's head right onto the belt! The crowd is incensed, the champion out cold.] AM: This is disgusting! DR: I suppose that's what berserk rage looks like... AM: And look at Chastity Davenport! She's encouraging this! [Davenport is grinning from ear to ear as Eveline stands, cruelly tossing Summer's limp body aside.] SS: And I don't think either are done yet. [Davenport hands Eveline a marker and then grabs her microphone.] CD: Do you see this? Class, sophistication, and grace will always win out over some common slut. [With that, Eveline drops down to her knees beside Summer's body. She grabs a handful of Summer's hair and yanks her head back. Eveline then takes the marker and draws a huge, red "S" right above Summer's cleavage. The crowd boos as Davenport nods her approval.] CD: "S" is for "Slut," Summer. And "P" is for the "Prostitute" you were, and the prostitute you always will be! [Next to the "S," Eveline adds a large "P." When she's done, she punctuates the graffiti with a few vicious strikes with her forearm.] AM: There's no need for this! They should both be ashamed of themselves. Chastity Davenport talks about role models? Well, what kind of message does this send to children!?! SS: Good penmanship? [Slllllllllllllllllllllap.] CD: There. A slutty prostitute. Now, the beast is properly branded, and there can be no denial of her true nature. [Eveline stands to her feet again, glaring down at Summer.] CD: But that's just the start. Because it all ends for her finally at Heaven and Hell, when morality once again triumphs over sin and depravity! [Davenport throws up her arms and the crowd jeers while the two women walk back up the ramp. But while Mrs. Davenport does make her exit, Eveline stops... clenches her fists, and runs back towards the ring, generating even louder boos still when the crowd realize Eveline is not done. She slides into the ring with a chair and stomps on Summer, then bends down to grab the North American Women's Championship, and slides it under Summer's head like a pillow. Then, she raises the chair high, aiming to hammer the champion's with it, with the belt serving as an anvil!] AM: Isn't this enough? SS: You can't quell a berserker's rage that easily, Red. [But Lilly's ungainly legs brought her to the ring at a run, and she arrives in time to grab the uncontrollable Norwegian blond and take her away, kicking and screaming, an unquenched blood lust in her crazed glare.] AM: Good thing Lilly was there to stop this. SS: What kind of bodyguard protects their client's foes half the time? DR: The kind that has some sort of moral compass, Sam. SS: Morality is Chastity Davenport's department. [As the trio makes their departure, a slew of EMTs race to ringside to Summer's aid.] AM: This was an unfortunate turn of events. Summer Blake is just getting some help now. She's been beaten and humiliated. But I have a feeling she'll be on the warpath come Heaven and Hell. [We cut to the locker room where we find Jerry "Pure Power" Titus seated on a bench. He's already dressed in his wrestling attire. In his lap rests two title belts... the MBC Smash Bash Crucify title and the UWF North American title. Titus stares at both belts for a minute, then sighs.] JT: I've been in plenty of matches in which some would say the odds were stacked against me. But I never knew I'd be in a match in which the odds were stacked in my favor. [He shakes his head.] JT: Don't get me wrong... to be a double champion is something I never expected would have happened. But the way it went down... I don't like it one bit. [A frown.] JT: I know some people will say I've got reason to be upset with a referee who was doing everything he could to make sure I won at Gabriel Whitecross' expense. But I know Whitecross well enough and that he'll want to settle that issue in his own way. That being said, there's another issue that needs to be settled. Crimson. [He looks up at the camera, his eyes in a narrow stare.] JT: Don't think I didn't figure out that it was you behind Harley Sanders' involvement. You seem to enjoy playing a game with me, figuring if I have another title to defend, I'll never be able to challenge you for that MBC World title. But that tells me something else... you're worried. [A nod.] JT: Worried that a rising star like myself just might be too much for you... especially when I'm not banged up and insisting on wrestling through injuries like Erik Grimsson... and no disrespect meant to Erik. After all, he's my partner tonight. But back to Crimson... I'd say you've got plenty of reason to be worried. Because while I'll take nothing away from what you've accomplished... even if it wasn't by the most honest means... you have to realize that the clock just might be running out on you... especially when you have people like Erik and myself breathing down your neck. [Beat.] JT: Now, tonight, you and I will be in the same ring, only you've got Sanders there on your side. No doubt hoping he'll keep me off your back while you continue to play your games. Well, I'll promise you this, Crimson... I will catch up to you tonight. And when that does happen... [A slight smile.] JT: You'll find out exactly why you have every reason to be worried about me. [Fade out.] Skullhead: I've got to hand it to Titus here. Though that second belt didn't come by the most honest of means, he's not hiding it. Hell, I know he intends to make it right. Slush: Doing the right thing only gets you killed. Just ask J... Pinhead: Stop right there. Slush: What? Pinhead: I'm drawing the line. I'm only about twenty percent sure of where you're going. But I know for a fact it will be offensive. Tinkle: MEEP! Slush: Don't agree with him traitor! Skullhead: Titus does bring up quite a good point. With all of Crimson's machinations, you've got to wonder if he's worried about Titus coming after him. Grimsson is enough. But a healthy Jerry Titus? That's a whole other beast. Pinhead: I hear Crimson made... "special preparations" for this match. Slush: Video taped? Pinhead: Is there any doubt? [Camera fade back stage somewhere, earlier in the day. Crimson, regal as ever in his red and black suit, stands with "Doomsday" Harley Sanders, in his Mountain Dew tanktop and ripped jean shorts, holding a small and delicate shopping bag. Though Sanders' mohawk is as perky as ever, he does not share the confident posture his boss does. They stand in one of those long, anonymous hallways you find in the guts of arenas all over the country... and right now, they're both poised in front of a door, upon which is the simple plaque: "SCAB."] Sanders: You're.. positive about this. Crimson: My sources were all quite sure of it. There was a lot of nodding and hard stares when asked. Sanders: And it has to be... me? [Sanders looks down at the shopping bag in his hand. His shoulders slump, just a little. Crimson's smile grows -- almost paternal.] Crimson: I'm afraid so. Apparently he likes them.. well.. big. Fit as I am, you've got me in sheer muscles. [A pause. Sanders does not want to ask the next question. But...] Sanders: If he "likes them big," why do I have to wear the tassels? [Sanders shakes the shopping bag a little, indicating where the tassels currently are.] Crimson: He's a complicated man. Aren't we all? Sanders: And.. the.. th.. the th... [Crimson's smile broadens.] Crimson: The thong? Sanders: Yes, THAT. I have to--? Crimson: You do. Sanders: And this will ensure that--? Crimson: It will. [Crimson makes a show of checking his watch.] Crimson: Best get on with it. We haven't much time to lose, and we wouldn't want to make him impatient. [Sanders sags again, then finally nods.] Crimson: Good. I'll leave you to it, then. [Crimson turns and walks away as Sanders gently knocks on the "SCAB" door. Slowly, the door creaks open... and the camera fades out.] Slush: What the Hell was that? Pinhead: I guess we'll find out? _______ ________ _______ _______ ______ ______ | | | | | | ___|----------------------| | | __ \ | | | | | | | ___| WRITER: | | __ « ---| |_______|________|___| KL |__|_|__|______/______| Rampage Bloody Rampage Rampage Bloody Rampage TAG TEAM CONTEST: Crimson[c] & Harley Sanders versus "Heavy Metal Hero" Erik Grimsson & Jerry "Pure Power" Titus ---------------------------------------------------------------------- [There's been a certain understanding between Erik Grimsson and Jerry Titus. Both have the same goal: taking out Crimson. However, there was the issue with who got him first. While Titus earned his World Title shot a year before Erik, Titus' status as MBC SBC Champion delayed things. Perhaps as a strong show of character, Titus has never complained and given his blessing for Erik to go first. And Erik has charged after Crimson ever sense. But this doesn't mean they necessarily trust one another. Even "respect" is questionable here. This was quite evident as they each made their separate entrances. They acknowledged their fans sure, but they hardly said a word to one another. Not a good sign for a team up.] Skullhead: You'd think they could trust one another given who they're facing. Pinhead: Let's be fair here. This is the sort of thing that Crimson does. He breeds mistrust amongst people. It's one of his many potent weapons. Skullhead: Certain things should overpower that sort of weapon. Like a mutual hatred for an opponent. Greater good and all that. Slush: Are you going old-school again Grandpa Skully? Skullhead: Quiet you. [Just as both Titus and Grimsson were growing restless, the lights all turned to a deep hue of red and "The Warning (Stefan Goodchild Mix)" began to play. From the entrance came two figures. One was dressed in a tight red shirt with black leather pants. The other dressed like a punk rocker high on vodka and Red Bull. They hit the ring ready to get the match going. The lights came up and then, everyone noticed something strange.] Skullhead: That's not Crimson. Pinhead: That's not Harley Sanders. Slush: I can't believe it's not butter! Tinkle: MEEP! Skullhead: Those two _could_ be wrestlers. They have the build for it. But they are certainly NOT Crimson and Sanders. Pinhead: Titus and Grimsson are obviously on to this fact and for some reason, the referee is insisting that those two... strangers… are Crimson and Harley. Slush: I'm pretty sure that's them. Pinhead: I'm pretty sure you're wrong. Slush: I'm pretty sure you're an [MEEP]hole. Skullhead: I wonder if this is what Crimson set up earlier. Pinhead: Bribing the referee to acknowledge the two fakes as the real deal? Skullhead: Totally within the realm of possibility. [As Grimsson and Titus argue with the referee about the status of "Crimson" and "Sanders", another figure begins to walk down the aisle. Dressed in a black suit with a red shirt and the MBC World Championship over his shoulder is Crimson... ...wearing an obviously fake mustache. In his hand is a cup and a thermos. He takes a seat at the table next to Skullhead.] Crimson: Gentlemen. Slush. Skullhead: Crimson, what is the meaning of this? Crimson: No, not Crimson. [The MBC World Champion points to the name badge affixed to his suit jacket.] Crimson: "Frimson." Skullhead: Right... Crimson: I'm just here to sell coffee. "Crimson" is in the ring, wrestling for the entertainment of children and simple adults alike. [Both Jerry and Titus caught on to the real Crimson's presence at ringside almost immediately. They started to make a B-line for the World Champion despite the referee's insistence that he was actually in the ring but they were cut off when the fake "Crimson" and "Sanders" attacked from behind. From there the referee called for the bell and the match began. While not terribly overwhelming with power, the element of surprise helped "Crimson" and "Sanders" to gain early control. Titus, frustrated as he was, accepted the situation for what it was and took up his spot on the ring apron for the moment, allowing his tag partner to unleash his fury on "Crimson". Clearly, it wasn't satisfying.] Pinhead: This is ridiculous. Crimson: I'll tell you what's ridiculous; the low quality coffee that dominates the market. I have your solution right here. [Crimson, or "Frimson" if you will, unscrews the cap of his thermos as Erik Grimsson tosses "Crimson" into the corner and starts hammering away with boxing style punches.] Crimson: Who wants to try some HoDgers? Slush: Oh! Me! Me! Pinhead: That's probably not smart Slush. Slush: Bite me. [Crimson pours out a cup of HoDgers for the unsuspecting Slush as Grimsson finally tags out to Jerry Titus. "Pure Power" quickly clotheslines "Harley Sanders" as he tries to ambush Grimsson from behind. Just to make sure all the bases are covered, Titus Irish whips "Crimson" to the corner where Grimsson continues the punishment. All the while, the referee keeps a close eye to make sure that "Frimson" is protected.] Crimson: Here you go. Slush: Drink up! [Slush slams back the steaming cup of coffee...] Slush: Wow, that's pretty good. [...then convulses and falls over, gagging.] Slush: IT TASTES LIKE THE DAMNED PITS OF HELL! Crimson: Evil to the last drop. [It really did not take long for Titus and Grimsson to completely dominate the scrubs that Crimson had hired to replace himself and Harley Sanders. They were scrappy sure. But they lacked seasoning and really, a considerable amount of talent. While it was good for both Grimsson and Titus to work out some of their aggression, the presence of the real Crimson at ringside only made their tempers flare.] Skullhead: I know you enjoy toying with people but isn't even this beneath you? Crimson: I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just here to sell coffee. [Crimson takes a moment to shine a spot on his World Championship belt. Well within the view of Titus and Grimsson.] Crimson: Would you like a taste? [Out of nowhere, Crimson's fake mustache falls off.] Crimson: Damned thing. Screw it. Pinhead: Finally admitting this farce? Crimson: Come again? [Again Crimson pointed to his "Frimson" name tag in the view of both Jerry and Erik. Having enough, Grimsson executes the Heavy Metal Meltdown on "Crimson." That only encouraged Titus to hit the "Purely Powerful" on the fake Harley Sanders. Simultaneously, Titus and Erik pinned their respective targets. Simultaneously, the referee counted to three. Now, with the match over, Titus and Grimsson could focus on Crimson.] DH: The winners of this match by pinfall... JERRY TITUS AND ERIK GRIMSSON! Skullhead: Finally, this travesty of a match is over. Pinhead: What are you going to do now, what with your paid off referee unable to save you. Crimson: You're like a broken record. The name is "Frimson" Pinhead. "Frimson." Pinhead: You're not... LOOK OUT! [Pinhead and Skullhead scramble as Erik Grimsson comes rampaging towards Crimson. Ever calm and collected, Crimson stands with his title belt in one hand and thermos in the other. Once Erik gets close enough... SPLASH~! Hot coffee right to the face of the “Heavy Metal Hero”.] Skullhead: Dear God! What the Hell are you thinking? Crimson: That nothing calms a bad mood like the rich, smooth taste of HoDgers. [Despite verbally keeping up the facade of not being Crimson, the Hand of Doom leader's actions are nothing but pure Crimson. He looks down at Erik Grimsson, clearly a man in agony, and does nothing. Nearby, Jerry Titus exits the ring upon seeing what happened to Erik and comes after Crimson as well. Whether to prove a point about not being over looked or to fend for a fallen comrade, it truly did not matter to Crimson. Titus charges hard, careful to avoid any left over coffee in the thermos. Crimson acted as if he was going to toss more scalding liquid but it was a fakeout, only to get Titus to flinch... ...and leave him open to a brutal shot to the head with the MBC World Championship belt. Titus collapses, his head bleeding. Crimson's cold stare, still fixed on his future opponents, is unwavering. Crimson drops the empty thermos onto Titus' head and says...] Crimson: I'll send you a bill for smoothing out this smudge you made. [And with that, Crimson leaves.] Skullhead: Can we get some help done here? Pinhead, grab that towel over there. Pinhead: I'm on it. Slush: Good thing I didn't drink that stuff. Tinkle: MEEP! Slush: Ah crap? I did. Skullhead: Go to another segment fast. [Bridging the backstage area and the VIP sections of the New Orleans Arena is a select room with a posh balcony called the Bacardi Superior Lounge, where a few of the UWF/MBC sponsors and the upper echelon of ticket holders can hope to mingle with some of the wrestling superstars before and after the show. If the atmosphere in such a luxurious environment would normally be festive, a somber hush falls over the place when a group of Guardsmen, led by Gamma Ray, enter the lounge. The Irradiated One hasn't worn a cape in nearly a year, but he still dons the black rubber mask and his black, silver and chartreuse singlet. He scours the room with his eyes, then signals to his men to block the exits. The revelers part when he heads for the curving bar alone, finding the man he was seeking, Juan Vasquez, leaning on the counter. Gamma Ray looms next to him expectantly and menacingly, but the Californian doesn't take notice. The bartender nervously places a glass of indeterminable liquid next to Juan's elbow... although it comes with a small umbrella. Gamma Ray bores holes through the man with his eyes, but Vasquez still doesn't acknowledge him. Instead, Juan reaches for his wallet.] GR: Don't bother. The Guard no longer accepts donations from you. No donation to the good cause, no matter how high, can palliate this offense, Vasquez. [Juan pulls out a few dollars from his wallet, and hands them over to the bartender.] Bartender: Thank you. [The bartender backs away slowly when he sees the hardness of Gamma Ray's eyes.] GR: You freeloading piece of [BLEEP]. [The words sink in, but Vasquez simply takes a quiet sip.] GR: I earned my title shot. To win it, I outlasted and beat eleven other men. I even put it on the line and defended it. I'm the only person in this company that genuinely deserves the number one contendership, yet who gets it? [A beat.] Whitecross. He hasn't been able to beat anyone since Gold Rush, and he certainly couldn't beat me, yet _he_ gets a shot? It's always the same, stale old wretches around here, huh. And now...you. [Juan puts down his glass and slowly turns to face Gamma Ray.] GR: YOU couldn't buy a win for months, yet you still got your shot at Gold Rush. You got it...and you lost. And now, you get a shot just because I've got'em grasping at straws and scared [BLEEP]less? Because I'm the biggest threat to the title in the UWF? Cheese us...You didn't even come close to actually earning that match yourself, Juan. No longer are you just one of the fifty anonymous fat cats around here, you've now become a [BLEEP]ing freeloader too, leeching title shots off my own talent, skill, and hard work! [Juan's face remains expressionless as he looks Gamma Ray up and down, before turning back to his drink.] JV: Well... [He raises the glass and pauses before he speaks, his tone cold and indifferent...almost mocking. He doesn't even bother turning his head.] JV: ...nobody ever said life was fair. [There's a slight smirk as he says that before he takes a drink.] GR: Aren't you a comedian. What does that stupid woman think you're gonna take me out with, witticisms? [He sneers then shakes his head.] GR: While you might have the best shot out of anyone Lee could designate to do his bidding...your ratty little cronies have abandoned your sinking ship, captain. If anyone's at risk of being taken out, it's you. You know... maybe you should call the wife so she can get a head start on your hospital papers. [Juan slams his glass back down loudly onto the counter, causing most of the people to take a step back. He turns back around to Gamma Ray with a murderous gleam in his eye...before he smirks.] JV: Maybe I should. [There's a mild look of surprise on Gamma Ray's face. He's not used to someone agreeing with him, much less Juan freakin' Vasquez.] JV: Don't look at me like that...you're right, aren't you? I _don't_ deserve this. [Juan lowers his head and chuckles.] JV: I didn't do a damn thing to earn this title shot. I didn't fight for it. I didn't fake a disease to get it. I didn't even ask for it. [He stops and stares right at Gamma Ray, leaning in close, taunting the masked wrestler.] JV: It was _given_ to me. Jealous? [An obnoxious grin.] JV: But of course...the great, benevolent, and humble Gamma Ray would've surely refused Becky Carlisle-Skullhead's generous offer. I'm sorry that we all can't live up to your excellent standards of character. GR: Now look here, you-... JV[Interrupting]: Cry me a river, amigo...'cause I ain't exactly torn up at the fact your feelings are hurt over this. [A serious expression forms on Vasquez's face.] JV: So you're mad. You're angry. You bring in your goons like it's supposed to impress me and you're raisin' holy hell over this... ...but what exactly are you gonna' do about it? [Was that a challenge? You're damn right that was a challenge.] GR: If you somehow survive this night, Juan, do remember that by the time you win the title, the Lee regime will have fallen. No longer will there be an Allison Chambers to impede my ineluctable rise. So when the referee raises your hand, you might not have the time to lay a single solitary finger on that belt before you lose it to me. [This seems to amuse Vasquez.] JV: Two years. [He holds up two fingers.] JV: You've had that title shot in your back pocket for almost two years now and you ain't done a damn thing with it. GR: Alliso-... JV: Allison Chambers don't got anything to do with it. [He shakes his head slowly.] JV: If you wanted the title...if you needed that title...if that title meant that much to you...you would've made _damn_ sure you got your match by now. But you didn't. You made yourself a victim. You hid behind excuses. You made yourself a fool that was oppressed and made powerless by the same woman that got outsmarted by a group of Japanese schoolgirls. [Juan turns back to his drink and starts messing with the paper umbrella.] JV: As long as you're nailed to that cross playin' the martyr, you don't confront the possibility of failure. As long as you're distracting yourself with "noble" causes and hiding behind the safety of a self- imposed glass ceiling, you don't need to rise up and stand on your own two feet. As long as you could hold onto your precious conspiracy, you didn't have to face... ...me. [Part truth, part lie... and 100% geared towards infuriating the Irradiated One.] JV: And that's why I know you ain't gonna' do a damn thing after I take the world title. [Juan looks at the would-be superhero and chuckles.] JV: As long as I'm standing, as long as I'm breathin', as long as I got enough life left in my body to have my arm raised into the air, the only thing I need to worry about is if I have enough time to shower, change, and comb my hair before the post-victory press conference. [A pause while the two men appraise each other.] GR: That's if you even make it there. [The Irradiated One smirks.] GR: Sure, I've been holding onto my title shot for some time. And even when Allison Chambers admitted she's been doing everything she can to prevent my inevitable reign...and even when DaMann barely ever bothered showing up in person just to make sure I couldn't cash in on his [BLEEP]...it's been a long time since a championship that storied has meant so little. The UWF Heavyweight Championship used to mean something. Something like that has to be won the right way, at the right time. The UWF title I'll hold is the one everyone used to dream of winning, not the bauble it has become thanks to Lee. And it spite of that, only one man in the past year has actually wanted that title. Me. [He points to himself for emphasis.] GR: The champion himself didn't want it...he didn't even want to be in the UWF. And when DaMann took it on a children's book tour, no one else gave a [BLEEP] but me. Whitecross had to be cheated out of the North American Title to timidly request his own title shot, and I'd wager he wants to kick Trey's ass a lot more than he wants the gold itself. And you? They practically had to force the title shot on you! You don't even want it either. [Juan bristles at the suggestion.] JV: What do you even know ab- GR[Interrupting]: Oh, you _do_ want it? Well that's news to me! You've been so busy breaking legs and alienating yourself that I didn't notice. [Now it's Gamma Ray's tone that takes a mocking hue.] GR: You had important matters to attend to, you say? Things you had to take care of before focusing on the championship? You had to take out Epstein and now you want to eliminate Kinsey...and somehow that's completely different than how I prioritize the Lee threat? Tell me, Juan, while you're standing all alone in your glass house, are there any more stones you'd like to throw? [Juan's poker face shows no cracks, no faults, but he's not answering either. Meanwhile, the Irradiated One leaves satire behind and his tone turns unmistakably serious.] GR: I was only planning on removing you from the picture if you got in my way, but if they're willing to serve you up on a silver platter like this... [He snorts.] It looks like one of us won't be walking out of New Orleans, tonight. [The poker face glare breaks...as a smirk forms on Vasquez's lips.] JV: Of course not, amigo. [His eyes scan the room and he chuckles to himself.] JV: I fully expect to be carried out of this building sitting on the shoulders of these people like a conquering hero after I put your sorry- ass down. GR: Ha! [Gamma Ray snickers, then chortles in a disarmingly genuine way.] GR: And they say *I* am the delusional one... [He shakes his head.] Yeah... I've played the game long enough to know what you're trying to do. But tonight has been so cathartic, Juan; I'm too serene to fall for it. The stage is set, the cards have been dealt...and all that remains to be done is what I do best; go out there and wrestle. So I guess you'll have to try your luck in the ring instead. And while I wouldn't want to wish you well, Juan, you'll need all the luck you can buy. So break a leg out there. [Grinning mirthlessly, Gamma Ray backs away.] GR: Break a leg. [The Irradiated One turns and his guardsmen follow him out of the lounge. A moment passes, and the bartender shakes his head in disbelief.] Bartender: Holy crap, what the hell was that all about? [That smirk on Vasquez's face quickly fades as he drops the facade. The miserable expression that we've all grown so accustomed to returns, as his smile is replaced by an all-too familiar scowl.] JV: It was a test. [Suddenly, Juan throws down the glass in his hand, shattering it on the floor. The look of disgust on his face is evident as he seethes.] JV: And that f[bleep]er passed. [Fade out.] |
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| KliqerT | Mar 11 2011, 10:37 PM Post #7 |
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Doughy
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AM: I think hell just froze over. I'm actually agreeing with a lot of what Juan Vasquez just said. DR: Look at it this way, he may just be the lesser of two evils at this point. AM: So much evil, for such a small company. Is this place cursed or something? DR: That match still to come, presumably in the main event tonight. And in case you just tuned in, it is indeed official. Juan Vasquez was offered a world heavyweight title match on night two of Heaven and Hell in Arlington, Texas. And all he has to do is hurt Gamma Ray this evening, at the behest of Becky Carlisle. SS: Carlisle's already overstepping her bounds tonight. We lost the damn World Series because she slapped a UWF logo on Tom Landis and declared him a rep for us. NOBODY WANTS TOM LANDIS! Hasn't she figured that out yet? DR: I don't want to talk about the results of the World Series. Instead, let's focus on the next match which is a tag team contest between some very interesting partners. Orin LeBlanc, the talented young star from Canada, teams up with the veteran Adam Rogers. They're taking on the duo of Alex Martinez and Derek Rogers, two men with similar goals and similar nasty dispositions. [Cut to backstage, where we find Orin "The Lynx" Leblanc, dressed in street clothes. The Canadian wrestler is currently on his cellphone. Shooting a warning glare towards the camera, the Lynx turns to the side and waves it off to keep its distance, which it prudently does.] OL: ...it's all good, Fi. You don't need to worry. [Pause. Another quick glare towards the camera.] Course I'm fine...just one o' them cameras decided to infringe upon me an' my time right now. No, he's still in one piece... [Leblanc smiles. It's not a very friendly smile.] Probably need you let you go to get ready. [Orin's expression softens.] Love you too, darlin'. I'll see you soon. Be safe. [He shuts the phone off. The tenderness remains on Orin's face for a brief moment, until he looks back over to the camera. The scowl immediately returns.] OL: Another damn tag match. [He shakes his head, then grows more thoughtful.] Not that workin' with Axis last time out was so bad. Lot in common surprisin'ly enough. An' I ain't got no issue with Rogers. So Rogers, you come to fight an' I got your back against Derek Martin. If you're worryin' about me, just ask Axis about what I can do -- if he'll let you get a word in edgewise. [Leblanc chuckles and leans back slightly.] OL: Got another chance to butt heads with Martinez again. The so-called "Last American Badass". Now, I know Johnny wants to get his hands on you, but I don't think he'll object too much if I cut you down a couple o' notches first. Men like you an' Martin, you only understand one language... [The Lynx pulls himself up to his full height as he fixes his sharp gaze onto the camera. His hands flex into tight, burly fists.] OL: ...an' fortunately, it's somethin' I got more than a passin' bit o' knowledge in.] [He grins coldly as the camera fades to black. We're in a bar. The sort of bar that could charitably called a "dive." This is no trendy bar, featuring designer cocktails. This is something out of a seventies era grindhouse movie. Sawdust covers the floor, and one wouldn't have to look hard to find blood and teeth among the sawdust. The music coming from the jukebox is indistinct. All that is heard is the loud "thump-thump" of it, adding to the grimy, chaotic atmosphere inside. The people inside all have a similar look. Men covered in tattoos, men who look like they've done time. Men who look like they'd kill a man for saying the wrong thing. But all of these scary looking men give a wide berth to the man sitting in the middle of the bar. Those close to him are sure to keep their distance, and they keep their conversations to a minimum. No one wants to piss this man off. No one in their right mind ever wants to make the Last American Badass angry. Alex Martinez, wearing his trademark black leather jacket over an old black t-shirt with the letters "NA" written in gold across the chest, and a pair of blue jeans, is drinking tequila. And judging by the large number of overturned shot glasses in front of him, he's been at it for awhile. Martinez looks at the camera, his expression irritated, and he nods at the bartender to give him another shot, which he downs before speaking.] AM: You're here to talk to me about my match against LeBlanc and Rogers, right? Well, I ain't. I ain't got a lot to say about either of them jackasses. Neither of 'em warrant much of my concern. Yeah, LeBlanc got the pin last time we were in the ring together, but it wasn't me he pinned. It was Marley, and if someone told me it woulda been Rick Marley chokin', well, I wouldn't have been shocked. LeBlanc? You're just a name to me. Just a guy who's gonna make some money and get his ass kicked. I don't give two squirts of piss about you LeBlanc. You're nothin' to me, and you never will be. You ain't done nothin' in this business, far as I can tell, and when I do get my hands on you in New Orleans, well, I'm gonna make sure you never get a chance to go any further. And Adam Rogers? [Martinez smirks.] AM: Hell, I remember when you were a snot nosed kid back in LA. And I remember that, back then, the highlight of your life was the weekend I let ya carry my bags around. You remember that, Rogers? Remember how good it felt to be allowed to walk in my shadow? You try to think back, recall the giddiness you had at bein' able to be my errand boy. Them memories might comfort you durin' your long recovery. Back then, I was a legend in the makin', and you were just some kid off the bus. Only thing that's changed is, now I'm a bonafide legend, and you? Well, you've done some stuff. But all of it pales in comparison to me. All that you've done... don't mean anything to me. I am still the one true legend in wrestlin'. And you're still a snot nosed kid carryin' my bags. No, it ain't Rogers or LeBlanc I want to talk about. Their fates are sealed. They're gettin' their asses beat. Ain't a lot to say about that, when ya get right down to it. Its Derek Martin I wanna talk about. [But before he can start, a voice interrupts him.] V: You got something to say about me? [The camera pans past Martinez, and comes to focus on "Dead End" Derek Martin. Martin is dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a black T-shirt. He's scowling at the moment.] AM: In fact, I do. Take a seat. Get a drink. I insist. [Martin is still scowling as he takes a seat, simply rapping his knuckles on the bar, as if he expects the bartender to know what he wants.] AM: Last go around, Marley failed me. He got caught, and he got pinned. And now, when ya look at the record books, it shows that Johnny [bleep] in' Axis holds a win over me. That ain't somethin' I'm too happy with. Now look, I've watched ya for a long time, Martin. And I respect who ya are, and what ya done. I like the way you just beat the holy crap outta anyone who gets in your way. And I always get happy, watchin' someone kick that jackass Whitecross in the teeth. DM: First of all, the respect is mutual. I've been in the ring with you before and all we did was just beat the crap out of each other... I'll admit I was hurting the day after. But it was that day I realized that you weren't like these other legends around this place, in that you can take it like a man and just get more pissed off about it. [He smirks as the bartender shoves a drink forward. Martin doesn't look at it, though.] DM: As far as Whitecross goes, it's always a pleasure to knock around guys like him. Hell, he took the bait when I dared him to come get me, and while he may have finished it with the win, he knew damn well how much hell I gave him. And now, Adam Rogers is finding out the hard way just how much hell I can give him... and I owe him a beating after he stuck his nose in my business last time. [Martinez nods.] AM: That's all well and good, but I need to know, right here right now, whether or not you're gonna pull your damn weight in New Orleans. So you look me in the eyes, and you tell me, right here, right now, that I can count on ya. Otherwise, I'll put ya through that wall and fight them two idiots by myself. [After a motion from Martinez, the bartender sets down another shot, which the LAB downs while listening to Martin's reply.] DM: Actually, I'll look you right in the eye and say that if you put me through the wall, I'd come right back at you and put you through the other wall. [A slight laugh.] DM: But you know what... I can respect a man who tells me what he's feeling without any hesitation, and I would imagine you feel the same way. So, absolutely, you can count on me to not only be a dependable partner, but be that damn good to beat the crap out of Rogers and LeBlanc. I've got all the reason in the world to want to keep hurting Rogers... as far as LeBlanc goes... he's there in the match and that's all the damn reason I need. [The big man nods.] AM: I believe ya. And that's enough for me. Now, get yourself another drink, and let's make some plans. And you? [Martinez glares at the camera man.] AM: Get your ass outta here. We're done. [Fade to Black.] AM: You know, if those two ever got on the same page they'd be hell on Earth. Fortunately, I think the egos at play would prevent that from ever happening. They might win the match tonight, but don't count out the combination of youth and experience. SS: Huh? DR: She means Orin and Adam. _______ ________ _______ _______ ______ ______ | | | | | | ___|----------------------| | | __ \ | | | | | | | ___| WRITER: | | __ « ---| |_______|________|___| MB |__|_|__|______/______| Rampage Bloody Rampage Rampage Bloody Rampage TAG TEAM FIGHT: "The Natural" Adam Rogers & Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc versus "The Last American Badass" Alex Martinez & "Dead End" Derek Martin ---------------------------------------------------------------------- [The two teams came down together, LeBlanc and Rogers hi-fiving the fans as they entered first. Martinez and Martin walked out together moments later, a pair of imposing figures as they walked slowly down to ringside. Rogers and Martin jawed at one another, their partners simply exchanging evil eyes. Early on in the match Rogers and Martinez went toe to toe, and despite the size advantage it was Adam who actually seemed to get the better of the LAB. Their shared history in Los Angeles had longtime wrestling fans roaring, the two former world champions of the E letting loose until Martinez ducked a clothesline and came back with a huge boot to the face. From here on the 7 footer took Rogers apart with guillotine splashes on the ropes and a power slam before tagging out to a waiting Derek Martin. Martin took great joy in hammering and battering away on Rogers, hoisting him up for a standing vertical suplex at one point.] AM: Rogers needs a tag in the worst way. SS: Yeah, Dead End Badass is really cutting the ring in half. DR: What did you just call them? SS: Dead End Badass. Mashing up their last names won't work, they're too similar. And their first names... that's just gay. [Upon Martinez tagging back in he tried to end the match with a quick Firebomb Chokeslam, but Orin saved his partner by undercutting his legs. A quick DDT laid Alex out and let LeBlanc tag in, who began to use his deceptive strength to his advantage with some impressive maneuvers on the LAB. Picking Martinez up and hitting a cradle piledriver wowed the audience, but Martin saved his partner from the pinfall and kicked Orin in the face in the process. A double clothesline knocked both men silly, and a short time later Martin tagged back into the match. The native of Colorado began to beat up Orin with some brawling tactics, crotching him on the turnbuckles at one point and standing on the man's groin to show off his mean streak. Later in the match LeBlanc caught Martin with a spear straight into the corner and soon trapped him in the Missing Lynx, an inverted surfboard hold with an added inverted facelock.] SS: What the hell is that thing?!? DR: The Lynx displaying some submission prowess here this evening. AM: What a big win this would be for Orin. He's been trying to get on a roll since he came here, and every time it seems like he's about to turn the corner something happens to pull the rug out from under him. SS: Like a boot to the skull? [Cue a boot to the skull by Alex Martinez, who turned around and was hammered by a combination of punches from Adam Rogers. The match began to break down with all four men in the ring, at one point LeBlanc and Rogers taking the Last American Badass down with a double suplex. Unfortunately as they did, Martin delivered a running knee into Orin's side and propelled him out of the ring crashing to the floor. A quick reverse neckbreaker, and The End signified the end of the match.] DH: Here are your winners... THE TEAM OF ALLLLLLLLLLLEX MAAAARTINEEEEEEEEZ AND DEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEK RRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOGEERRRRRRRRRRS! [LeBlanc rolls out of the ring, frustration clearly etched on his face as he walks away. Rogers leaves a few moments after that, his head also down as he heads out. Triumphant, Martin and Martinez stood in the ring together with their arms raised.] DR: Not particularly the way Adam Rogers wanted to head into Heaven and Hell I suppose. He and Orin worked well together, but just came up a tiny bit short tonight. SS: Momentum is the most important thing you can have going into the pay- per-view. And Alex Martinez has it in spades. Watch out Axis, the Badass is coming for you. DR: With a couple of minutes free here before the main event, now is as good a time as any to run down the complete lineup for Heaven and Hell, which as has been previously announced is a special two night event live from Dallas, Texas. SS: The first time ever that the UWF has held a two night event, I might add. AM: MBC has. SS: Who's side are you on? DR: On night one, Summer Blake defends the Women's North American Championship against Eveline Eriksen. AM: After tonight's disgraceful display, I shudder at the thought of Eriksen actually wearing UWF gold. I hope Summer kicks the blonde bimbo's ass. DR: Like you mentioned a minute ago Sam, Alex Martinez will face Johnny Axis one-on-one, hopefully to settle their differences for good. After this match, I'm not sure I'd want to be in Johnny's shoes though. We'll see the two semi-final matches for the Empress Cup. This tournament is still wide open, as the opening round will be fought on a special pre-PPV edition of House of Throwdowns. Whoever wins in these two matches will compete on night two in the finals. SS: Can Eveline win that too? AM: No, moron. DR: In tag team action, Pablo O'Connor and Brett Young will take their stellar tag team record into battle against the Morningstars. AM: Pablo blames the brothers in brutality for a head injury he's only now returning from, this one will really be something to see. DR: On the MBC side of things, the Problem Solvers have a score to settle with St. George and the Dragon and they'll do it inside the ring in Arlington. This next match was just added recently, Laura Davis defends the UWF Women's World Championship against Tesla St. James. AM: That might be the best pure wrestling match on either night. Two warriors at the peak of their careers, male or female... Fun. DR: And for the three main events of the first night of the show... We've talked about him all night, and we'll see him in a few moments, Juan Vasquez throws a decade-old friendship out the window once and for all when he faces Luke Kinsey one on one. Juan has systematically alienated everyone around him, and Luke has suddenly got the support of the entire world with him. Get this, just added... "Shotgun" Stan Crawford, who many call the soul of the MBC, takes on "Hellraiser" Tom Landis in a rematch from what we saw at the top of the hour. AM: Two of the most decorated men in MBC history, this is one of those times you just have to stop and stare. And it's taking place in MBC's return to Texas... you couldn't have set it up any better than that. DR: And the big one, for the UWF World Heavyweight Championship. Trey DaMann, public enemy number one for months on end here in the UWF, will step into the ring against the "Era Of Defiance" Gabriel Whitecross not in a match for the title... but a _fight_ for the belt and so much more. SS: Don't forget, whoever wins that match has to wrestle _AGAIN_ twenty- four hours later. It won't be a victory, it'll be a stay of execution. DR: That's true, night two of Heaven and Hell is every bit as action packed as night one and it starts with a battle of the behemoths, Tumaffi and Serge Annis. AM: Yeah, unless he scales the Empire State building and picks a fight with a bunch of airplanes. SS: Excuse me? AM: What's left after you try and taser a man to death? DR: You have to admit Sam, Serge and Tumaffi have been particularly vicious every week they've been near one another. After what they've done to each other, the odds aren't great we'll even see them at the pay per view. [Sam pulls out his iPhone and starts thumbing through his address book.] AM: Sam, you know we're on live television, right? SS: Quiet you. I'm calling him. DR: Who are you calling? SS: Serge Annis. I'm sick of you two bad mouthing him and I want to give a chance to clear the air. [Sam presses a button on the phone.] DR: How the... Why would you call him? What are you going to do? [Sam taps a mic box in front of him and suddenly the phone is patched through into the audio feed. The smug smirk on Sam's face is to be seen to be believed as we hear the phone ring.] DR: How did you do that? SS: Bluetooth. Get with the times Dave. [The phone continues to ring. SA: Hello? SS: Serge, Sam Steeley here. SA: How did you get this number Steeley? SS: Don't worry about that. I hope you're watching the broadcast right now, because I want to know your thoughts on Dave and Amy here calling you a coward. DR: Serge, Dave Rogers here. I am sorry for Sam's intrusion while resting at home after Tumaffi's devastating attack on you, I wouldn't mind taking this opportunity to ask you some questions regarding your Heaven and Hell opponent. SA: ... [Silence. Dave pushes on.] DR: How are you feeling after Tumaffi's relentless torment and assault when we last saw you? Where he left you laying in a bush, being attended to by paramedics after being knocked through a window? SA: ...I hurt... What man wouldn't? Every shard of glass.. Every inch of burned flesh serves as a reminder... But it reminds me why I've done what I've done. Why I pushed Malahu Tumaffi to this level. Skin heals whilst the mind doesn't forget... Heh... What lengths does a man have to go to break someone mentally? Why don't you ask Tumaffi that question, because I am the man that broke him. I've driven him to the brink of insanity. Do you think anyone else could light such a fire in Tumaffi? I think not... DR: But why? Why push a man so far that he would endanger your life with no regard for your wellbeing? Why risk your legacy? I don't understand what the tradeoff is. SA: The tradeoff is dominance Rogers. Fear... Hate... Those walls all come down when I face Tumaffi in the ring, because there is nothing left. All we can do now is end it. DR: Can you? Are you in any shape to compete at Heaven and Hell? SA: Oh my body hurts Dave Rogers, but I promise you there will be a match at Heaven and Hell... I will accept nothing less than the demise and destruction of the man known as Malahu Tumaffi. [Serge pauses for reflection.] SA: From the moment at Gold Rush where Tumaffi and I locked eyes, we both knew there would be no give and take. In an unspoken, unsaid manner, we both agreed that there would be only one survivor here. As far as I am concerned, nothing was off limits and we've proven that. I came back to the UWF for three reasons... I had unfinished business with Epstein, and I want to be the man that takes out Tumaffi. DR: Three? What was the other reason? SA: All in due time Rogers. My focus is on the beast Malahu Tumaffi, and it will remain there until Heaven and Hell where I will eliminate the competition. AM: You seem too sure of that Serge... SA: I've said it before...This promotion... It deserves a better breed of evil. And I'll see to that by taking out Tumaffi. [The sound of the line being disconnected is heard.] SS: Serge will see to that. AM: With the kind of history he has to back up his words, I have no doubt he'll at least try. DR: That match is one of many we'll see on night two of Heaven and Hell. In addition to Serge Annis and Tumaffi, we'll see two men who just competed a few minutes ago, "The Natural" Adam Rogers and "Dead End" Derek Martin step into the ring one on one. Tonight's match didn't solve much, but in Arlington there will finally be a winner in their game of one upsmanship. We'll also see the finals of the Empress Cup tournament, as the winners of the previous night's matches move on to face off. You'll also see Sylhouette try to get her final revenge on Nikki the Cat and Brianna Landis in a triple threat match. AM: This all started when Syl was kidnapped and lost months off her career, and both of the women who have claimed responsibility are in for a long night. DR: Holly Hotbody defends the MBC Women's Heavyweight Championship against the woman who's been hot on her high heels for months now, the always popular Jan Delgado. Another MBC matchup sees Clayton Ross battle Brawn Stevenson, Holly's right hand man. There's no love lost between either of those men, just like when MBC was kicked out of Texas so long ago. SS: I sense a bit of hostility in your tone. And I like it. DR: The undisputed world tag team champions Don't Go There have a double challenge at Heaven and Hell, they have to defend against both the MBC top contenders the Chromosomes and the UWF contenders the Insanity Society. And then we come to the three main events on night two. First, the owner of the UWF and MBC Kyle Lee signed the contract tonight, he'll meet Gamma Ray inside a steel cage once and for all. Much is one the line. If Lee wins, The Guard will have to leave. And if Gamma Ray wins, the MBC and UWF will have to separate. Few times has this much been wagered on the result of one match. In a match for the MBC Heavyweight Championship of the World, Crimson puts the gold on the line against the Heavy Metal Hero, Erik Grimson. SS: Dead man walking. I still think he'll be lucky to make it to Texas. DR: And finally, capping off what will undoubtedly be one of the greatest weekends of wrestling ever seen... You just heard tonight, Juan Vasquez will receive a shot at the UWF World Championship against the winner of the match between Trey DaMann and Gabriel Whitecross the night before. SS: Which I find completely unfair. AM: Nobody cares. DR: And there you have it fans, the complete lineup for Heaven and Hell, live from Arlington, Texas. So without further ado, let's head down to the ring for the main ev- [The Megatron and all the lights in the New Orleans Arena suddenly go black. A few gold spotlights start to slowly swirl around the arena, causing a loud chorus of boos to resonate. The lights pick up speed in their revolutions, as the contempt for the man about to arrive on the scene intensifies.] DR: Or perhaps not. AM: [sarcastic] Here comes the champ. [The first licks of an electric guitar course through the speakers. It's the frenetic beginning of "Black" by Sevendust. Those who somehow didn't know become aware that they will soon be in the presence of the reigning UWF World Heavyweight champion. On cue, gold sparks begin to fall from the ceiling, tracing the outline of the stage until the first lyrics of the song are heard. The sparks cease to fall... revealing the self-obsessed UWF World Heavyweight Champion in all his glory. The multi-million dollar platinum and gold belt is raised high in the air, held by the very end of the strap, so that it drapes over the neck and chest of the Armani-clad titleholder. His baby blue eyes gleam, as he is greatly enjoying the reaction he is receiving. To supply the crowd with even more to hate, he tips his head back and gives them a large, toothy, blindingly white Trillion Dollar Smile. Perfectly tan, with well-maintained short black hair and a few days worth of stubble, Trey DaMann looks like he just walked off the pages of a high-fashion magazine spread and into the arena. Gucci sunglasses folded up and tucked into the collar of his button-down black shirt. Shined-up wingtips flawlessly matching the color of his jet black suit. An ensemble that probably cost more than you make in ten years. DaMann saunters down to the ring with the championship belt looking completely at home on his shoulder. Every few steps, he slows down just enough to tell people that they are not good enough to interact with him in any way. He look at the kids standing along the ringside barrier with particular disgust, especially those who happen to be wearing the merchandise of one Gabriel Whitecross. The Megatron comes back to life and begins showing three sets of highlights from DaMann's brilliant UWF career to date. Trey reaches the steel steps in the corner and climbs up to the apron. He stops to lean across the post and one set of ring ropes, posing with the championship belt held high in the air once more. The response is pure disdain. Trey looks over at Debbie Henshall seated by the timekeeper's table and demands to be announced properly, using language that should never be directed towards a woman under any circumstances. She hesitates, which causes DaMann to make his way over to the corner nearest to where she is sitting. He glares at her menacingly, pointing his finger and ordering her in no uncertain terms to do what he asked. With a look of terror in her eyes and hands noticeably trembling, she raises the microphone to her lips.] DH: Hailing from Los Angeles, California.....weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds.... [Still not satisfied, he shoots her another angry look and informs Henshall that he doesn't have all day.] DH: He is.....the UWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION.... [His disgusted expression fades as he clearly likes the sound of that. Trey pops for himself, displaying another shameless Trillion Dollar Smile.] DH: TREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN! [Trey lifts one hand in the air and non-chalantly brushes away the intense jeers. With the other hand, he reaches out for a microphone. His wish is quickly granted.] TD: You see, UWF, I always get what I want. [Another proud grin from the champ.] TD: I wanted to be the biggest star in this business. Check. [DaMann nods towards an entire section of unappreciative fans.] TD: I wanted the UWF World Heavyweight championship. You all know how that turned out. [He looks lovingly at his title belt, which he gently cradles in his arms.] TD: I wanted to show the world that I was my own man and beholden to nobody. So I walked out on this company with the UWF World title in tow. Mission accomplished. [DaMann responds to the scorn from the audience by mockingly wiping his eyes and pursing his lips into an exaggerated pout. Yes, he was brazen enough to reference George W. Bush in a place that was completely ignored following Hurricane Katrina.] TD: I'll admit....doing all those things was pretty fun. But what I want these days, well it may wind up being even more satisfying. [The smile fades, replaced by a serious and sadistic look in his eyes.] TD: What I want now is to make Gabriel Whitecross suffer. [The enraged audience makes their feelings known, but DaMann's expression does not waver even the slightest bit.] TD: You all saw what I was able to do to him without even having to be in the same building. Titus was the beneficiary of the decision, but the win was all mine. _I_ cost Whitecross the match several times over. _I_ made him lose. _I_ took his prized North American championship away from him. _I_ humiliated him. _I_ did this to him. [DaMann displays a proud grin, exceedingly satisfied with the events he set in motion at the last RBR.] TD: And I did it all from the comfort of my own home. Now I want all of you, especially you Gabe, to imagine what I could do with us in the same building. [He lifts his hand towards the crowd.] TD: Take this moment to wrap your little heads around those possibilities. Think long and hard, or as best as you realistically can. [Trey looks up, arrogance on full display.] TD: But there is hope for you, after all. It doesn't have to be like that, Gabe. [DaMann begins pacing along the ropes, in classic know-it-all mode.] TD: Because what I want at this moment, is for Gabe to come out here and apologize. Say he's sorry for ever getting in my business. Say he's sorry for embarrassing me. And say he's ESPECIALLY sorry for challenging me to a match at Heaven & Hell. [Trey stops in his tracks, not because of the increasingly incensed reaction from the crowd, but to emphasize his words.] TD: We all know I'm not a forgiving man. And I never show mercy to anyone. But there's something different about you, Gabe. I think you're the type of person who will respond to reason. This is your opportunity, Gabe...and I'm only giving you one.....to come to your senses and withdraw from the match at Heaven & Hell right now. [DaMann pauses between each word...particularly accenting each one.] TD: Don't .... be .... a .... hero, .... Ga-- [Seething, twisting, malevolent, the opening strains of Nuclear Assault's "Something Wicked" suddenly spits its contempt from the state-of-the-art Celestions. In a matter of milliseconds, the ambiance changes in the arena. Gone are the crowd's hatred. It is now replaced with a rapture that is absolute, as the muscular, 6'4" Englishman moves into view. The heavily tattooed Era Of Defiance is stripped to the waist and bedecked in a shade of black thereafter that matches his present demeanour. A deeply etched scowl decorates his goateed facade ; his long, flowing white hair unable to hide the inferno that burns behind his pale, blue eyes. His plotted course down the aisle never deviates. It follows a straight line down the middle of runway, oblivious to the horde of adoring fans at the framing guardrails. Gabriel's attention is focused entirely on DaMann ... And the crowd respond to his tunnel vision by launching the raucous but somewhat hypnotizing mantra of "WHITE-CROSS, WHITE-CROSS, WHITE-CROSS!!", into the air. Upon reaching the ring, the former North American Champion slides under the bottom rope and rises swiftly to a vertical base. In Gabriel's heavily-taped right fist, he holds a microphone. At this juncture however, he chooses to not raise it to his lips. Instead, he merely continues to figuratively burn a hole in Trey's skull, with his gaze. In return, DaMann grins at his nemesis, as the intro music and vocal adulation subsides.] TD: Nothing? You have nothing to say? You're not going to plead with me to get out of our match at Heaven & Hell? I know you're rarely speechless, but stupid? I never would've imagined that. [DaMann shakes his head at Whitecross, utter repulsion in his eyes. However, his expression is not nearly as intense as the one belonging to Whitecross.] TD: You really fell for their crap, didn't you Gabe? You actually believe what the fans, the guys in the back, and the entire wrestling world want you to believe. You bought in completely. You believe that you can be the hero and the one who ends my title reign. That you can be the one who sets things right here in the UWF. That you can be a UWF World champion of whom all these people can finally be proud. That you could be what I fooled all of them into thinking _I_ could be. [DaMann looks up at the crowd. A shameless smirk across his face.] TD: That's what this is really about, isn't it Gabe? I was supposed to be the hero. I was supposed to be the champion everyone could believe in. I was supposed to be the one who stood for something greater than myself and could overcome all the odds. What everyone believes about you right now, they believed about me not too long ago. [Trey begins singing a few bars of "Believe" by Staind, the song that accompanied his "I Believe In Storybook Endings" video back at Gold Rush. The night where he won the UWF championship in what he tricked everyone into thinking was going to be his final wrestling match due to leukemia.] TD: But I played you, all of them, and everyone in the back. [A smug laugh emerges from the champ.] TD: After that, everyone got together and chose _you_ to make things right. You were the designated hero, the one who could erase my betrayal and finally give the people what they had been craving. You were going to end my reign of terror when people like Lee and Daniels couldn't. You were going to save the UWF from me. [Trey points to himself incredulously, as if he was referencing something impossible.] TD: Fact is, there's only question coming into my head right now. That is, who is going to save YOU from ME? [It is now, with the fans baying their contempt, that Whitecross chooses to speak for the first time. He motions for silence, and his voice is initially guttural.] GW: Save ... me? ... From ... [Gabriel sizes DaMann up, from head to toe, with obvious distaste] ... you? My only concern is that someone may save me from myself _before_ I am finished ripping your body and putrid soul apart! [A deafening cheer is heard, but Whitecross pays it no heed.] GW: The truth of the matter is, you jumped up little _puke_, is that the 'reasonable man' in me does not exist, when dealing with vermin of your kind. There will be no apology from me, toward a person ... and I use that term lightly ... toward a person who mocks every single man, woman and child that has fought, or is currently fighting bravely against a terminal illness. [Whitecross takes a half step forward, battling against the overwhelming urge to let his fists do the talking. He has obviously seen something in DaMann's eyes that riles him even more. ] GW: Yes, I know that you are aware that many years ago, cancer took my beloved sister ... And for that reason alone, I will _never_ withdraw from any match that involves making ... you ... suffer! [Trey goes to speak, as Whitecross forces himself to step back. One syllable is all he's allowed.] TD: G-.. GW: I HAVE NOT FINISHED TALKING, PARASITE! [DaMann is momentarily taken aback by the thunderous roar, but quickly regains his smarmy persona, as the cheers resurge with partisan vigour. Exercising Herculean restraint, Gabriel raises his left arm, and venomously jabs a finger at the Title belt that decorates the World Heavyweight Champion. Once again, his voice is now more controlled.] GW: ... And for 'the fans' ... for 'the guys in the back', I will indeed take that gleaming, prestigious amalgam of leather and gold from you ; re-instilling the glory in it that you have duly poisoned with your corrupt touch. Thanks to you, the North American Title may no longer be in my keeping, DaMann ... But the magnitude of what I have just lost, will pale in comparison to what I _will_ take from you ... Of _that_ you can be assured. [Despite being nose-to-nose in the center of the ring, something off in the distance distracts both men. A contingent of armored personnel begin walking out one-by-one onto the stage under the Megatron. They are all in full riot gear, with dark helmets obscuring their faces. They each have batons in their hands to further indicate that they mean business. The Guard members stand at attention, forming one long row and facing the two rivals in the ring.] AM: Oh no! Not the Guard! DR: Is this really a situation where they have to become involved? AM: They've been involved with Gabriel's business before. What do they want now? SS: Yeah, they've messed with Whitecross, but it's Trey who's livid! [DaMann completely turns his back on Whitecross, and starts spewing fury towards the unwanted visitors.] TD: Your boss is an idiot, but I thought you boys knew better than to get involved in _MY_ affairs. [A....slight pop?] TD: You're going to regret this, boys. Gabe, you can take the short, feeble one, or just stay out of the way entirely. I'll take the rest. [DaMann quickly takes off his suit jacket and lays it over the top rope near the timekeeper's table. The belt and sunglasses are gently placed under the turnbuckles in the corner. He begins unbuttoning his cuffs and rolls them up to his elbows. Several members of the Guard wave their batons in Gabe's direction. DaMann uses the distraction to blast Whitecross in the back of the head. Whitecross ricochets off the ropes and falls to the mat in a heap. DaMann picks up a microphone.] TD: Don't worry about them, Gabe. They're with me. More specifically, they are guys I found on some corner not too far from here asking for work in the worst broken English I've ever heard. They're not the real Guard. Sure, they look the part, but they're not the real thing. Kinda like how you look like a hero and a champion, but you'll never take my title from me. [DaMann runs forward and kicks Whitecross square in the ribs. He turns his attention towards his hired "crew."] TD: You boys can leave now. Your payment will be waiting for you in the back. I can take care of the rest on my own. [Another kick to the same spot. Whitecross tries to defend himself, but it is not enough.] TD: C'mon HERO! [This time he takes a running start before winding up and kicking him in the ribs.] TD: C'mon HERO! [DaMann drops a knee across Gabe's skull. A loud thud echoes through the building.] TD: Hey UWF, I broke your heart.... [This elicits a sly smile.] TD: ...And now I'm going to break his neck. [DaMann motions toward Gabe with the microphone before dropping it to the mat. He grabs Whitecross by the hair and lifts him off the mat. He turns slightly to the side to set up his Flashbulb Moment finisher, but Whitecross slips out of his grip. Gabe lunges towards Trey's ankle and takes him down. He adjusts his grip on DaMann's ankle and rolls him over.] "THE FAMILY NAME!" [Whitecross bellows his unintelligible fury toward the Heavens, as his grip cinches in tighter and tighter. For the first time, DaMann's face wears a mask of distress and legitimate pain. In a panic, he flails. Whitecross has ended careers with his anklelock, and boy, does Trey know it. Unsurprisingly, the fans are loving the sudden turnaround in fortunes.] GW: DAMN YOU, VERMIN! ... DAMN YOU TO HELL! [DaMann, with terror and agony in his eyes, tries desperately to pull himself towards the nearest set of ropes. His fingertips tickle the bottom rope for a few moments before he can finally grab hold and pull with all his might. Trey grabs the rope with his other hand and drags himself across the mat to the apron, but Gabe locks in the hold even tighter. DaMann screams, but is able to fight through the blinding pain and grip the edge of the ring. He tugs with all his might, forcing Whitecross to release the hold or be dragged outside the ring with him. DaMann falls to the floor in a heap, clutching his damaged ankle. Whitecross stands in the ring above him, challenging him to get back in the ring. DaMann crawls in the opposite direction, his arrogant demeanor replaced by fear and wincing. Trey, seeing the crowd absolutely loving this turn of events, tries to get back to his feet and re-enter the ring. But he quickly decides otherwise, and keeps moving up the ramp. Both men continue jawing at one another until DaMann disappears behind the curtain.] DR: On the eve of Heaven and Hell, we just got a preview up and close of the battle in store for night one's main event! AM: Oh, this is gonna be good. Trey DaMann... your time's up, buddy. DR: Let's get down to the ring for tonight's main event, courtesy of our would-be commissioner for the night Becky Carlisle. Gamma Ray is set to collide with Juan Vasquez... and it's anybody's guess what will happen now. |
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| KliqerT | Mar 11 2011, 10:39 PM Post #8 |
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Doughy
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_______ ________ _______ _______ ______ ______ | | | | | | ___|----------------------| | | __ \ | | | | | | | ___| WRITER: | | __ « ---| |_______|________|___| TJ/CS |__|_|__|______/______| Rampage Bloody Rampage Rampage Bloody Rampage MAIN EVENT: Juan Vasquez versus Gamma Ray ---------------------------------------------------------------------- [The cameras veer towards the entrance, and Gamma Ray's logo appears on the MegaTron just as Disturbed's hard hitting rendition of "Land of Confusion" thrashes the arena's speakers. In time with the song's rhythm, a parade of dystopian Guardsmen files out of the entrance way, in pairs of two, marching out towards the rind like a military procession.] # I must've dreamed a thousand dreams # # Been haunted by a million screams # # But I can hear the marching feet # # They're moving into the street # [Among the marching Guards, a distinctive figure stands out, fists clenched, immobile on the entrance stage. He dons a black, silver and chartreuse singlet as well as black shin pads, boots, and thick rubbery mask. It has been a long time since he wore a cape, but his shoulders bear something else; the UWF fans' unbridled hatred.] DR: Here he is, the infamous Gamma Ray. AM: And he's finally going to get what he deserves! SS: It won't happen just because you will it to happen, Red. Gamma Ray's a whole lot better than you give him credit for. DR: As if his Guards weren't enough to worry about... # There's too many men, too many people # # Making too many problems # # And not much love to go 'round # # Can't you see this is a land of confusion # [Cranking his neck and stretching his arms and shoulders as he walks, the Irradiated One slowly makes his way to the ring with the confidence of a man that knows he can out-wrestle anyone, anytime... and of course, with the peace of mind a personal army can procure to the most paranoid of megalomaniacs. Closing the procession's rear are the imposing Jonas "Dutch" Elm and the pugnacious Oz Rivera, who both elicit strong unfavorable fan reactions.] # This is the world we live in # # And these are the hands we're given # # Use them and let's start trying # # To make it a place worth living in # [Gamma Ray confers with Elm and Rivera, then hops on to the apron, and smirks back at the boisterous fans jeering him. He sneers at the crowd, as if to underscore the fact they won't get to him anymore, that he knows he's the best, better than they are. It's a feeling the incensed fans resent, and their screams and boos say as much. However, it's clear Gamma Ray doesn't care anymore.] # Oh Superman, where are you now? # # When everything's gone wrong somehow # # The men of steel, the men of power # # Are losing control by the hour # [In the ring, a dozen Guards order themselves in three perfectly aligned rows of four, facing the MegaTron. The Irradiated One stands before them, purses his lips and nods, then turns and raises an arm towards the aisle, inviting his opponent in with a barely discernible beckoning hand gesture.] DR: Gamma Ray seems... confident. AM: Of course he does. He's a jerk. A delusional, dangerous, psychotic jerk! Can't wait for him get his ass kicked! SS: I doubt this one's going to go how you think it will, Red. [DMX's "Ain't No Sunshine" comes over the PA system, to a bevy of boos from the audience. Juan Vasquez emerges from the back with an expected sneer on his face, but also a look of a man with a mission. His eyes are fixed ahead at the large congregation of Guardsmen, who let the man pass as he slides into the ring and comes up face to face with his opponent.] DR: This is an uneasy feeling at the moment. AM: No honor among thieves here, Dave. [The two wrestlers study each other, until Gamma Ray suddenly lunges and runs right into a hip toss. He gets back up but Vasquez tosses him again! After a third charge, Juan armdrags the Irradiated One to the mat and Gamma Ray rolls out of the ring to collect his wits and formulate a new game plan. A nearby pair of Guards come to their boss' aid, but the Irradiated One only scolds them for meddling, and sharply sends them back to their posts up the aisle.] SS: Why does he keep sending them away? An advantage like that has to be used! DR: Like him or not, Gamma Ray has too much talent to actually need their help. AM: He'd need it against Juan Vasquez, whether you like _him_ or not! [Gamma Ray slips back into the ring, where Juan Vasquez immediately assaults him with a rain of kicks.] AM: See? Didn't I tell you? DR: Vasquez whips Gamma Ray into the turnbuckles... and flattens him with a lariat! [Vasquez continues to assault Gamma Ray with a series of knife-like forearms to the back of the head, before allowing his masked foe to return to his feet and sets up for a Russian legsweep. Gamma counters with a side switch, spins and hits a quick side suplex to the mat. Both get up and exchange some more shots, Juan again taking control as he whips Gamma Ray into the corner. He charges at him, but the Irradiated One dodges the running knee. Gamma Ray slips behind Juan, locks his hands around his waist and hoists him into a belly to back suplex. Maintaining his hold, he lifts Vasquez back up and takes him down again with a second consecutive suplex. But Gamma Ray's still not letting go, and he forces Vasquez back to his feet again for a third one. Only this time the Irradiated One deftly slips around Vasquez and violently slaps him in the face! Vasquez veers from the startling shock, which enables Gamma Ray to waist-lock him again for the third, brutal belly to back suplex.] AM: Did he just pimp slap Vasquez? DR: Gamma Ray's complete lack of respect is astounding. SS: You gotta admit that only a special breed of wrestler could pull off that sort of stunt on Juan Vasquez! AM: Fools that pimp slap Juan Vasquez don't stick around for long, Sam. SS: Which makes that breed even more special! [Now it's Gamma Ray's turn to use some shots to the back of the head with his opponent face down, then hooks him with a front facelock and goes for a snap suplex, but Juan blocks the move with his leg. The Irradiated One tries to lift Juan again, but Vasquez blocks again, then reverses with a suplex of his own! On the mat, Juan grabs Gamma Ray's arm in an armbar, then clutches one of Gamma Ray's fingers and pulls back!] DR: Vasquez did the same thing to Alex Epstein last year! He's going to break off Gamma Ray's finger! AM: Guess Gamma Ray won't be slapping anyone else with that hand. [Squirming like a fish out of pain and desperation, Gamma Ray twists around until he manages to wrap his legs around Juan's head with a headscissors, pulling himself free from the armbar. He jostles some more, waistlocks Vasquez and lifts him up, then slams him over and down with a Karelin Lift. Gamma Ray falls to his knees to catch his breath before resuming his offense with a running knee to Juan's head!] DR: Destructive force behind that knee! I daresay Juan may not have expected such an agressive force from Gamma Ray this evening. AM: He's about as dangerous as he is obnoxious. And he is PLENTY obnoxious. [After a series of knees to the head and boots to the face, Gamma Ray moves up next to the ropes and picks Juan up in a front chancery...] DR: Hold on... I think he wants to suplex Juan out of the ring! [And up goes Vasquez, over the rope and down... onto his feet! Face pop!] DR: He lands on the apron! [Juan elbows Gamma Ray in the face, but the Guard leader fires back with a jab and a haymaker! He attempts to knock a dazed Vasquez off the apron with another punch, but Vasquez blocks it and drops off, grabbing the masked man by the head...] DR: Vasquez guillotines Gamma Ray! AM: I can't believe it! Listen to these fans getting behind Vasquez! [The fans go wild as Gamma Ray snaps back onto the mat, clutching his throat. From ringside, Juan grabs the Irradiated One's boot and roughly pulls him out of the ring. He fires a few stiff shots right on the mask, then hooks him up in a front chancery. Juan lifts him up...and drops Gamma Ray abdomen first into the guardrail! The fans cheer as the referee keeps counting. A determined-looking Vasquez lifts up the Irradiated One back up and drops him down gut-first onto the guardrail a second time!] DR: Two times! That's twice Gamma Ray has gone into the steel! His ribs must be in agony! AM: The referee's up to the count of six, though! [BIG POP!] DR: And a third front suplex into the barricade! SS: What's with these people? Are they cheering for Vasquez or against Gamma Ray? AM: Does it matter? [With Gamma Ray hanging prone over the guardrail, Vasquez takes a few steps back, almost as if he's measuring the Irradiated One up. Suddenly a roar comes from the crowd as Vasquez pats the side of his knee and charges!] DR: Vasquez with the running knee! [At the last possible second, Gamma Ray lifts his head off the guardrail as Vasquez charges past him, whiffing with the knee. Before Juan even realizes what's happened, Gamma Ray has grabbed Juan's head and yanks down into a neckbreaker, snapping Vasquez's neck brutally across the unforgiving barricade!] *CLLLLAAAAANNNNNK!!!* Crowd: OHHHHH!!!! DR: Good lord! That looked BRUTAL! AM: He could've broken his neck with that! [As both men lay on the ground in pain, the crowd goes silent... then, they begin to boo. As the referee reaches the count of 8, the boos intensify... because Gamma Ray begins to crawl over the railing.] "NINE!" [Vasquez remains inert, clutching the back of his neck, while Gamma Ray gets to his feet. The leader of the Guard tries to find his bearings and clumsily stumbles towards the ring...] DR: Can he make it? "TEN!" DR: He didn't make it! This wild...crazy...BRUTAL match will end in a draw. SS: Man, all that for nothing! [Gasping and holding his ribs, Gamma Ray leans on the apron for some respite... then he stumbles forth, and drops an elbow across Juan Vasquez's throat! HEEL POP!] AM: Hey! The match is over! [At ringside Debbie Henshall rises next to the timekeeper's bell, and prepares to render the final verdict.] DH: Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has declared this match a double coun-... [But Debbie never finishes, as Gamma Ray rips the microphone out of Debs' hands and shoves her to the side. Seeing that the Irradiated One has a microphone in his hand, the fans boo like Pavlovian dogs. Gamma Ray stumbles his way back to Juan while waving away the incoming wave of Guards.] GR: No! ...Back off! I'm...I'm not done! Did you think... Did you think it was over, Juan? Did you think the bell would save you? [Vasquez crawls to his knees, only to be clobbered by Debs' microphone. With Vasquez stunned, Gamma Ray begins to wrap the microphone cord around Juan's throat, finally tugging and choking him as he drags him from one ring post to the next. As Vasquez's face gradually turns crimson, the Irradiated One leans in close with the microphone.] GR: Do you see it, now? The dues, I've already paid them in spades. It's not up me to prove I can hang with the old boy's club... It's up to all of you has-beens to prove you can keep up with _me_! [Heel pop! Gamma Ray tugs on the taut cord, further strangling Vasquez.] GR: And you thought they'd carry you out of here like a king? Huh? Is that what you thought? But dealt with the devil, Juan, and you chose the wrong side. So now, the only way you can get to Heaven and Hell is if I _let_ you. [Gamma Ray smirks as Vasquez claws at the cord, turning to an increasingly scary shade of purple in the process.] GR: Yeah, I hold your fate in the palm of my hands, Juan. I've got you by the ba-OOF!!! [We never do find out what Gamma's got Juan by, as El Cholo's right arm shoots up between Gamma Ray's legs, doubling over the masked wrestler with the mother of all low blows as the booing crowd suddenly roars with cheers!] DR: This fight's not over yet! AM: Witticisms take the lead one to zero. [The Irradiated One falls to his knees clutching his groin...and a swift shove from Vasquez's boot ultimately topples him over. Vasquez too, then falls onto his back, struggling to loosen the cable from his neck. Vasquez drags the Irradiated One to his feet, slowly picking up speed and _tossing_ him into the steel steps!] *CLLLAAAANNNKK!* [BIG BRUTALITY POP!] DR: Juan Vasquez just viciously threw Gamma Ray into those steel steps! AM: It looked like Gamma Ray went legs first into them, too...that can't be good for the knees. [Kicking Gamma Ray aside, Vasquez pulls the steps back and proceeds to wedge the Guard Leader's right leg between the steel post and the steps, before backing away.] SS: You know, this would be a good time for the Guard to intervene! DR: I think it's pretty obvious now, that these two just want to injure each other! This match was thrown out a long time ago! SS: This just isn't right! Juan Vasquez only had to wrestle a match, but he's going above and beyond what Becky asked for! [Vasquez then proceeds to break into a dead sprint and baseball slides right into the steel steps!] SS: MY GOD! DR: Gamma Ray's leg might be crushed after that one! AM: I don't think this is above and beyond what Becky asked for from Juan, Sam... it seems to me that this is _exactly_ what she asked for! [The fans' cheers almost drown out Gamma Ray's screams of pain as he clutches his leg. Desperately pulling on the apron curtains, Gamma Ray manages to pull himself free from the steel steps, but his efforts to escape distract him from Vasquez, who was already charging at him once again...] Crowd: OHHHHHHH!!! DR: A running kneelift right to the side of the head! Vasquez smashed Gamma Ray's skull right against the ring apron! SS: OK..._NOW_ is a good time for the Guard to intervene! AM: I'm not sure so sure it's so much that they can't, as much as it is that they won't. Would you want to get in Vasquez's way right now? SS: There's like thirty of them and one of Vasquez! Those are even odds, right? AM: Maybe! [El Cholo hoists a limp Gamma Ray up and lays him flat on the apron. He grabs a foot, and the fans explode when he slams the Irradiated One's ankle into the steel post! As Gamma Ray rolls off the apron and back onto the floor clutching his ankle, Juan stalks the Emerald Egotist. Gamma Ray slowly hobbles back to his feet as Vasquez holds his right arm low and behind his back, his fingers twitching with anticipation. ] DR: Vasquez loading up that right cross... SS: Turn around, Gamma Ray! Turn around! [Vasquez suddenly darts forward, moving in to the throw his infamous right handed blow. But before he can swing, Gamma Ray wraps his arm around his unsuspecting foe's neck and falls backwards, using Juan's own momentum to counter with a rattling Flatliner!] *THUUUUUUD!!!* DR: GAMMA RAY COUNTERS! SS: I told you he's good! He's really good! [Juan is stunned, but he instinctively stumbles back to his feet regardless, holding his face in pain. However, a hobbling Gamma Ray isn't impressed with his opponent's resiliency, coming up from behind and hooking Vasquez into a modified Cobra Clutch! HEEL POP!] DR: THE GAMMA CLUTCH! SS: And listen to that trash talk from Gamma Ray! He's really letting Vasquez have it! AM: The ego on this jerk is unbelievable. SS: Lady, when you're as great as Gamma Ray is, you're allowed to be unbelievable! [As Juan's struggling wanes, Gamma Ray proceeds to leg trip him, making Vasquez charge head first into the steel steps!] *CLAAAAANNKK!* DR: Gamma Ray, just unloading on Vasquez here! [The Irradiated One rocks Vasquez with a series of haymakers, but the most miserable man in all of wrestling refuses to go down. Gamma Ray pulls way back for one more haymaker, but Vasquez suddenly comes to life, slapping the masked man's fist away and leans way back, before landing one hell of a...] DR: HEADBUTT! Good lord, what a headbutt! [Even the crowd winces at the impact of one of the hardest heads in wrestling striking at full impact, skull-upon-skull. Gamma Ray and Vasquez stand there for a second, before both fall to the canvas in a heap!] *THUD!* *THUD!* DR: They're both knocked out! SS: It didn't have to come to this...couldn't they have joined forces? They could've ruled this place with an iron fist! AM: No! These two are bad enough on their own! If anything, the best we can hope for is that they both end up destroying each other! [Close to the ropes, a very tired Gamma Ray begins to stir, using the ropes to pull himself up and back to his feet first. At ringside, Jonas Elm takes a step towards the ring, a pair of Guardsmen behind him, but with the last of his energy, the Irradiated One emphatically waves his men away again.] SS: There Gamma Ray goes, waving off the Guard again! AM: As much as I dislike the guy, there's something admirable about the fact that Gamma Ray's wanted to do this on his own. SS: The match is already over... it's been over for like ten minutes! Just jump Vasquez now and light him up with a tazer! [Seeing that he still hasn't moved, Gamma Ray picks up Vasquez on his shoulders, twists... and slams him down with an Olympic slam!] SS: What an athlete! AM: I hate to say it, but this fight is probably over for Juan Vasquez. He's at Gamma Ray's mercy right now. [Gamma Ray moves over to Vasquez's prone form, managing a satisfied smile despite his own pain. With much effort, he pulls up Juan, grabbing his left arm and pulling him into a short-arm knee to the gut. The Irradiated One pie faces Juan, disdainfully shoving him into the ropes and then lifts him over his back as he rebounds, holding him by the legs as he dangles over his back...] DR: He's going for the Ionizer! If the fight wasn't over before, it will be now! [However, the jeers quickly turn to cheers!] AM: No! Vasquez is fighting it! [Perhaps getting a second wind or merely having his survival instincts kicking in, Juan begins to pound on Gamma Ray's back and kidneys, causing the superhero to lose his grip. Landing behind Gamma Ray, Vasquez waits for the leader of The Guard to spin around, before stepping up off his right thigh with his left foot and swinging his right leg right towards the masked man's head...] *THWAAACKKK-THUUUUDDDDD!!* ["HOLY STIFF SHOT TO THE HEAD, BATMAN!" POP!!!] DR: STEP-UP ENZUIGUIRI! SS: You want to talk about the fight being over? _THAT_ might've done it! [HUGE POP!] SS: Wuh-oh. AM: "Might've done it"? This would _definitely_ do it! [Why the huge reaction? Juan Vasquez just lifted his right arm high into the air... ...and balled it into a fist.] DR: The right cross! SS: This is a move that's hospitalized people! It knocked the cancer out of Trey DaMann! It hit Brianna Landis so hard, she lost a personality! AM: And with the beating he's taken already, it'll be light's out for Gamma Ray when it hits! [Gamma Ray lays face down on the canvas, seemingly already knocked out from the enzuigiri that struck him before. However, this doesn't stop Vasquez from motioning towards Gamma Ray with his free hand, begging him to get up for the fatal blow. However, suddenly he drops his arm and stares out at the screaming crowd, shaking his head.] AM: Wait...why'd he sto... [MASSIVE, MASSIVE POP!!!] AM: Oh dear God. DR: We've been talking about moves ending the fight...this can end a career! [The fans are going wild, almost unhinged and Juan Vasquez hasn't even hit anybody. All he simply did was raise his boot... ...and press it just below Gamma Ray's knee.] SS: He shouldn't be doing this! Somebody has to stop him! Gamma Ray's the best new talent to bless the UWF in years! AM: Becky Carlisle-Skullhead made a deal with the devil, Sam...and he's ready to send this masked bastard's career straight to hell! [Juan bends down to reach for Gamma Ray's ankle. However, he stops for a brief moment to taunt Elm, Oz, and the Guardsmen... BIG POP! ...giving them a one-finger salute...and then he begins to lace his fingers around the Irradiated One's boot. Then... HEEL POP!] DR: NO! GAMMA RAY SHOVES HIM OFF! HE MIGHT HAVE JUST SAVED HIS OWN CAREER! SS: Are these fans crazy!? They're _mad_ that Gamma Ray didn't get his leg broken! AM: They're not the only ones! SS: Amy! [The desperate shove sends Juan through the ropes and out of the ring, falling close to several members of The Guard. Meanwhile inside the ring, a still woozy Gamma Ray scrambles the nearest corner, clutching his leg, cajoling it, feeling it up to make sure no bits are missing. Finding no permanent damage done, he laughs, genuinely relieved that he just escaped certain doom, smirks... and falls into the corner, completely spent. ] AM: The Guard are circling around Juan... SS: Can you blame them? They saw what Vasquez tried to do! DR: This might degenerate into something else we've seen before. [Juan sees the post-apocalyptic security team coming and gets to his feet, a resigned but defiant look animating his eyes. He chuckles to himself, before spinning around and booting the nearest Guardsman in the gut and taking his baton! Before the others can even react, Vasquez is swinging for the fences, striking anyone and everyone in his path! HUGE POP!] *SMAAAACK!* *SMAAAACK!* *SMAAAACK!* *SMAAAACK!* *SMAAAACK!* *SMAAAACK!* *SMAAAACK!* [Here comes Oz.] *SMAAAACK!* [There goes Oz. But hey...here comes Elm!] *SMAAAACK!* [Well...there goes Elm.] SS: I don't ever remember seeing this before, Rogers! This is insane! DR: Juan Vasquez has lost it! He's taking on the entire Guard! AM: And he's kicking their ass! *SMAAAACK-CRAAAACK!!!* DR: HE BROKE THE BATON RIGHT OVER THAT GUARDSMAN'S BACK!!! AM: But they're still coming at him! There's no one that can fight these odds! [With his weapon gone, the remaining members of The Guard suddenly see their opening, rushing Vasquez from all sides. However, Vasquez continues to swing his fists, refusing to go down without a fight. The remaining Guardsmen make a semi-circle around Vasquez, but none of the goons seem willing to make the first move against him. Vasquez has his back turned to the ring...Which is when Gamma Ray leaps from the apron to strike down Vasquez. HEEL POP!] AM: Come on! What a gutless coward! [Momentarily stunned, the Guardsmen rush in and finally bring Vasquez down, furiously and hard with a frenzied flailing of arms, legs, and batons. As he rolls inside the ring, an exhausted and still hurting Gamma Ray barks some orders at his men, demanding that Vasquez be thrown back into the ring as well.] DR: This is not looking good, this is not looking good at all! [Guardsmen pin Vasquez down in the middle of the squared circle, enabling Gamma Ray to bestride his constrained foe, landing a seemingly endless stream of stiff, hateful punches to his forehead. The crowd boisterously decry the Guard's acts, showering the ring with debris, but nothing they can hurl or scream can stop the Irradiated One.] AM: Someone needs to do something! SS: We knew it. Deep down, we knew it. Vasquez tried...hell, he did more than try, he pushed them further than anyone else! But what can one person do against Gamma Ray and the Guard? DR: I don't know, Sam. SS: It's clear, now. Since you can't beat Gamma Ray, you gotta join him! AM: That's ridiculous! [Suddenly, the crowd roars!] DR: Wait! Who's that? SS: See? I was right! More recruits out here to join-... AM: No, Sam! These guys aren't here to join the Guard! [Indeed they're not. Flooding down to ringside to combat the masse of Guardsmen are members of the MBC roster: Stan Crawford leads the charge, followed closely by Max Benson, the Trailer Park Assassins... they hit the ring and start swinging for the fences, tangling with black-clad members of the Guard. More wrestlers keep coming down... a second wave of MBC wrestlers with Tom Landis, Clayton Ross, Liam Cassidy to name a few...] AM: The cavalry's here! Look at everyone, in a united front! [The second wave doesn't actually make it into the ring, as Jonas Elm and reinforcements from in the crowd stand outside the ring and take on the oncoming rush. It's chaos everywhere, as Ross and Landis slam into Elm and Cassidy MURDERS one of the Guardsmen with a single punch. In the ring Gamma Ray shrugs off an attacking Cooter before again going after the prone Vasquez. Crawford takes Oz Rivera down with a huge lariat before getting swarmed by more Guardsmen.] DR: This is complete CHAOS! AM: One man might not be able to do anything, but a dozen men can do a hell of a lot! SS: Oh man...I gotta' get out of here! This is getting dangerous! [Brawling erupts just about everywhere at ring side, but the ring itself seems to be the eye of the storm. Even through all the chaos happening around them, two Guardsmen still hold down Juan Vasquez...and Gamma Ray still towers over El Cholo, smirking...a malevolent glint in his eye. He places the sole of his boot right below Juan Vasquez's right kneecap...an action that immediately brings a shout of concern from the crowd.] DR: Oh, no... AM: I can't believe I'm saying this, but someone has to stop this! SS: I hate to say it, Red...but no one's gonna' save Vasquez! He's got no friends, no allies and no hope! He's completely alienated himself! Besides, turnabout's fair play! Vasquez was going to do the exact same thing to Gamma Ray just a few minutes ago! [The crowd screams with panic as Gamma Ray bends down, firmly taking hold of Juan's ankle with both hands...] AM: There _has_ to be _someone!_ SS: There's no shortage of people willing to fight the Guard...but what moron would be dumb enough to save Juan Vasquez? [Gamma Ray goes to wrench up Juan's leg, ready to snap his ankle, but he suddenly releases his grip and backs away! The eyes behind the mask grow wide and the Irradiated One barely has the time to dive out of the way of a swinging chair!] AM: No way! SS: Holy crap! [The chair in _Luke Kinsey's_ hands! HUGE SHOCKED POP!!] DR: IT'S LUKE KINSEY!!! EDWIN LOPEZ! AND TOMMY STEPHENS! Vasquez's friends! They've made their way through this...this RIOT to save Vasquez! AM: I can't believe it! SS: No way...no freakin' way! Vasquez burned his bridges! He pushed them all away! Why would they save him!?! AM: You might not understand because you don't have any, Sam...but that's what friends do! Even after all they've been through, they couldn't stand by and watch this happen to him! [As Lopez and Stephens battle it out with members of the Guard at ringside, Gamma Ray scrambles out of the ring away from the chair- wielding Kinsey, making a quick escape. However, his two goons aren't as lucky!] *THWAAAACK!* *THWAAAACK!* [BIG POP!] DR: Brutal chair shots from Kinsey take down those Guardsmen! AM: Oh my god, look! [Not one to be outdone, unless you count the World Series earlier tonight... members of the UWF roster rush down the aisle now to choke an already filled up ringside area completely as Michael Bonn and Ryu Osawa sprint down the aisle, soon followed by Orin LeBlanc, Adam Rogers, Tommy Elliott and Randall Osbourne...] SS: Team UWF in the house! Kick everyone's ass boys, start with Landis! DR: We have a complete breakdown here fans! [As the mass of humanity continues to rumble, the Guard slowly becomes less of the focus as new pockets of fighting break out. Osbourne and Ryu come face to face all of a sudden, and the Dark Horse isn't one to let broke slurpee machines get in the way of a friendship as he grabs Ryu by the throat. Crawford and Landis also manage to find one another in this mess...] AM: Breakdown doesn't begin to describe it! We have two companies out here, unwilling and unable to share space any longer! And the jackass who kicked it all off is trying to make his escape... where the hell did Gamma Ray go? SS: Forget that, look in the ring! Luke and Juan, together at last. [Luke Kinsey and his backup have cleared the ring of all Guardsmen, as a battered, bruised, but still moving Juan Vasquez struggles back up to a vertical base. He stands on unsteady feet, watching the battle unfold around him and spins around...to see Kinsey staring right back at him. The two former friends turned bitter enemies don't say a single word to each other, when suddenly... ...Luke Kinsey offers his hand!] SS: W-what!? AM: No matter what's happened between them, they were still friends! Luke Kinsey wants to put an end to this feud! [The reaction from Vasquez is the same as the one from the crowd. Shock. Absolute shock. Vasquez stares at Kinsey in disbelief, confused by the offered hand. The crowd then roars, encouraging Juan to shake Kinsey's hand and end their bitter feud. There's a conflicted look on Juan's face as he looks down, not sure what to do. Suddenly, he closes eyes and then nods to himself. He looks back up at Luke...] *SMMMMMAAAAAAAAACCCCCKKK!!!!!* [...and smashes him in the face with a monstrous right cross! MASSIVE HEEL POP!!!] AM: That bastard! I can't believe him! He just threw away his chance at redemption! SS: Do you think something as simple as a handshake is going to make what's happened in the last year disappear? Forgiveness isn't that easy, Amy! [Juan Vasquez stares down at the unmoving form of Luke Kinsey with a hateful expression, slowly shaking his head at the man he once considered his best friend. He slowly raises his head at the jeering crowd... and then gestures towards his waist, making the universal sign for "I want the belt." Big time boos!] AM: It almost slipped my mind! Juan Vasquez has a shot at the world title at Heaven and Hell! SS: Yeah, Amy... but before he gets his shot at heaven... Vasquez is going to take Kinsey straight through hell! [Juan stands over Kinsey as on the outside, Stephens stares open-mouthed as if to say "What the hell, dude?" before he's besieged by Guardsmen. Meanwhile virtual eye of the hurricane, Gamma Ray weaves his way up the ramp, slaloming his between vicious battles waged against his Guardsmen. He smirks at the camera that trails him, and can't resist the urge to rub salt in the wound.] GR: Look at your sinking flagship, Lee! The war is lost, and your rats are fighting for the life-raft! [Gamma Ray steps over one of his fallen goons, but that's not the sort of thing that could ever interrupt one of his rodomontades.] GR: But I'm still standing, Lee! I'm _still__standing!_ You lost the war, you corrupt, flagitious sack of-... [He trails off, interrupted by the man he least expected to see standing in his way on top of the entrance ramp! POP!] AM: IT'S KYLE LEE! DR: And he does not look happy! SS: He doesn't look too healthy either... [The two men are locked in a tense standoff, brawls and screams all around them. There's no shortage of anger in Kyle Lee's eyes, yet he wears a padded neck protector... and this makes Gamma Ray smirk. He's banged up, bruised and aching, but seeing Lee nearly incapacitated makes the Irradiated One scoff, proud of his handiwork.] SS: Lee made a mistake coming out here, injured like this... AM: You know nothing could stop him from getting his hands on Gamma Ray! [The sneer on Gamma Ray's lips vanishes when Lee reaches up and rips the velcro band off his neck protector, then tears the protective collar off! Lee cranks his neck, and chucks the protector at Gamma Ray's head! POP!!] DR: Looks like Lee's healthier than we all thought he was! [Gamma Ray's eyes grow big and suddenly starts pleading, supplicating, begging Lee for mercy as they circle each other and trade places... but the UWF/MBC owner clearly isn't in a forgiving mood. The nearby camera picks up the Irradiated One's panicked plea.] GR: Hey, now! Play fair! I just been through a war out there! [Lee shakes his head, his menacing message made clear, and Gamma Ray bolts away! But Kyle Lee charges, and he rams into the Irradiated One, spearing him right through the entrance curtains, ripping them completely off their hinges as they both disappear, engulfed through the entrance!!! HUGE POP!!!] AM: YES! GET HIM, KYLE! [While the riot continues unabated, a cameraman hastily runs across the stage to get a shot of the gorilla position where Kyle Lee disentangles himself from the fallen portiere and gets back to his feet, bestriding the large lump in the torn curtains... Lee raises his foot, aims at the spot where Gamma Ray's head should be, and stamps down hard! The large lump in the curtains deflates under the sole of Lee's boot...] DR: Where's Gamma Ray?? SS: He managed to escape! Always a step ahead, that one! AM: You just wait until Kyle has him trapped in that cage, Sam. You wait and see! [Lee clenches his fists and frowns as he looks back down the entrance at the ocean of chaos surrounding the ring. Fade to Death Star black.] |
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| DaveG | Mar 13 2011, 12:04 PM Post #9 |
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Bushido Brown
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Wait...
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| Overly_Critical_Jue | Mar 13 2011, 01:02 PM Post #10 |
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Amigo, I ain't anybody but Juan Vasquez!
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They fused together during the destrucivity of the match! |
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| Kickair | Mar 13 2011, 08:10 PM Post #11 |
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Buttons aren't toys
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Oh Debbie..... |
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3:30 AM Jul 11