[Fade to the opening sequence for Rampage, set to Deep Purple's "Perfect Strangers". Serge Annis grabs Chris Myers and hits an Epitomizer... Chris O'Brien lands the Ugliest Damn Moonsault In The Game on Simon O'Neal...] # Can you remember remember my name # # As I flow through your life # # A thousand oceans I have flown # # And cold spirits of ice # # All my life # # I am the echo of your past # [...Jeff Grayson executes a stunning hurricanrana on Trevor "The Hammer" Hextall off the edge of the stands... Bliss executes the Kiss of Death... "Top Dog" Rick Styles blindsides Scott "Hotspot" Daniels...] # I am returning the echo of a point in time # # Distant faces shine # # A thousand warriors I have known # # And laughing as the spirits appear # # All your life # # Shadows of another day # [..."Agony" Michael Augustine busts Dominic Ash open... "The Screaming Drillbit" hits the Drilldown Piledriver... Idol Austin catches Johnny Bod with the Idolatry...] # And if you hear me talking on the wind # # You've got to understand # # We must remain # # Perfect Strangers # [...Youth Gone Wild hits a moonsault onto Quinn Brown...] # I know I must remain inside this silent well of sorrow # [...Tragedy hits the Knick Man with the Sleepy Hollow Driver... Alex Extreme hits the Cradle To Grave... "Legacy" Luke Sampson uses the Gamebreaker...] # A strand of silver hanging through the sky # # Touching more than you see # # The voice of ages in your mind # # Is aching with the dead of the night # # Precious life (your tears are lost in falling rain) # ["Cold Blooded" Chris Courtade drops Caliban with the Just Another Statistic DDT from the top rope... Hotspot nails Joe Reed with the Pride Breaker...] # And if you hear me talking on the wind # # You've got to understand # # We must remain # # Perfect Strangers # [Fade through to the graphics:] _______ __ __ | __|.---.-.| |_.--.--.----.--| |.---.-.--.--. |__ || _ || _| | | _| _ || _ | | | |_______||___._||____|_____|__| |_____||___._|___ | |_____| _______ __ __ __ | | |__|.-----.| |--.| |_ | | || _ || || _| |__|____|__||___ ||__|__||____| |_____| ________ __ __ ____ | ___ \ ______ | \ / || _ \ ______ _____ _____ \ \__| \ / ___ || \/ || | \ \ / ___ | / ___ \ | ___| \ __ // /___| || |\ /| || |_/ // /___| | / / /_/ | |_ \ \ \ \ \ ___ || | \/ |_|| __/ \ ___ || | ___ | _| \_\ \ \ \ \ | ||_| | | \ \ | || | |_ || |_______ \_\ \_\ |_| |_| \_\ |_| \ \___| ||_________\ \_____/ 03-17-2001 Hour One [Fade into Morton Stadium, as a blast of pyrotechnics lights it up. The roar of the crowd soon overtakes the theme music, and as it fades out more bursts of pyro lead into the frantic cuts back and forth around the crowd. Eventually we settle down at ringside to our announcers. David Rogers, seated on the right side of the table is dressed in khaki pants and a green polo shirt, wire rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. Amy Marshall is seated in the middle, wearing jean overalls and a tight fitting red t-shirt. And Sam Steeley is on the left side of the table, wearing his trusty leather jacket over a "[MEEP] me, I'm a bastard."] DR: Good evening fans, welcome to Dublin, Ireland for Saturday Night Rampage! This crowd is raucous and ready, and tonight is the final show on our road to Gold Rush 2001! AM: Everybody in that locker room is gearing up for the Eggdome on the 23rd, but most of them are also in action tonight. SS: Yeah, only our crooked president won't tell us who's in the main event! DR: We're awaiting the arrival of President Sarah Reed, as well as the announcement of who's in tonight's main event. [And right on cue, "Southside" by Moby starts up over the PA system, signalling the arrival of the UWF President, Miss Sarah Reed. Sarah steps out from the locker rooms to a fairly loud pop(they dig chicks, they dig authority figures, it's a given), and the young brunette woman waves to the Irish crowd. Some of the chants are a little rowdier than others, but she walks down the ramp without incident. Wearing a black skirt and a pale blue sweater top, she walks up the ringsteps to the apron and ducks under the middle rope. Shaking hands with Debbie Henshall, Sarah takes the microphone and begins to speak, but the crowd noise is still fairly high.] DR: Our President seems to be quite the favorite here in Dublin. SS: Of course, the national pastime is alcoholism. [President Reed tries again, as the music and the crowd noise start to die down.] SR: Thank you, thank you very much. Hello Dublin, welcome to Saturday Night Rampage! [Pop!] I know you're all excited for tonight's show, and I won't keep you in suspense any longer with regards to the main event. SS: It's about time. AM: Quiet, idiot. SR: Tonight, right here in Dublin, Ireland, it will be Scott "Hotspot" Daniels defending the UWF Championship against "Incredible" Idol Austin, the Cruiserweight Champion! [Heel pop!] DR: Daniels against Austin? That could certainly be interesting. AM: I- [Amy is cut off as "The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove" by Dead Can Dance hits the PA system, surprising President Reed and causing the crowd to boo.] DR: Here comes Idol Austin. [Indeed. Austin walks out, wearing an all green suit. His shoulder length sandy blond hair is pulled into a ponytail, and he is wearing the ever present sunglasses. The World Cruiserweight Championship Belt, shined to gleaming, is draped over his shoulder. Austin looks over the Irish crowd with his typical "I love you all" smile, and stands aside, as his sign bearers appear. Each woman is dressed in a green bikini, and are holding signs that read... "Things an Irishman sees when he has drank too much..." "Yellow Moons" "Orange Stars" "Green Clovers" "Blue Diamonds" "Purple Horsehoes" And the final sign.... "Alcoholism: The Irish National Pasttime. It is never too late to admit you have a problem. Alcoholics Anonymous can help you kick the habit. Unfortunately, there is no cure for poor, stupid, and ugly."] SS: Once again, Idol Austin shows the correct way to put the crowd in its place. DR: What can one say about that? AM: There isn't enough time in the day to properly describe how much that disgusts me. [The crowd agrees with Amy, and the booing is renewed as Austin makes his way down to the ring. Austin climbs into the ring, and makes one go around, completely ignoring Sarah Reed as he soaks in the crowd's "affection" for him. That infuriating smile of his never leaves his face as he looks over at Reed, pulls out a microphone, and addresses her.] IA: So, have I heard you right, honey? You are giving me a shot at the World Heavyweight Title tonight, here in Drunklin? SR: You heard right, and I am not your honey. IA: Cool down sweetheart, don't get your panties in a bunch. [Austin pauses and gives Reed an arch look, then grins.] IA: I assume you ARE wearing panties, correct? [No answer from Reed to this question, but her annoyance at being harrassed so shows through. Austin notices, and just smiles again.] IA: Doesn't matter, I suppose. Probably best if you weren't. Panties only get in the way. [More boos. Austin shrugs them off.] AM: The man has no shame. [We highly doubt he cares about that.] SR: You're going somewhere with this, I hope. IA: No, just wanted to see what you would say if I mentioned your unmentionables on live TV. Since you're not being any fun with it, I'll stop. [He says that, but you never can tell with Austin.] IA: So the shot tonight is mine? SR: It is. IA: For HIS title? You're not going to sneak in some stipulation before I come back out here that says that mine is up as well? Not that I would mind, except Daniels is about as qualified and worthy of vying for and holding my World Cruiserweight Title as Johnny Bod was. [Boos.] SR: No. It is for the World HEAVYWEIGHT Title, and one is beginning to wonder if maybe YOU are worthy of the chance. [Austin doesn't like that one bit.] IA: Oh, trust me babe, I am worthy. I carry your cruiserweight division on my back like Atlas holds the world, and there is room on my shoulders for the heavyweight division as well. I can take Daniels, no problem. And I WILL take Daniels, and walk away World Champion. You offer the chance, I will take it, and as I always do, I will rise to occasion and claim what is rightfully mine. As it should be. A person of my stature is deserving of nothing less. [And his words are cut the hell off... The hypnotic tapping begins over the arena, as some fans recognize the initial sound, and rise to their feet. The arena lights slowly dim, around half light. The song continues, the guitar rifts begin to come over the arena, shortly followed by the drums... # AAARRREE YOU RREEAADDDYYYYY! # ...the crowd jumps to their feet, out of recognition of his arrival, as "Blind" by Korn blares over the arena. Most boo, out of hatred, out of utter disrespect and jealousy, yet some cheer this man, a man with no morals, no standards, no feelings. The song continues, as the guitar rips across the arena. Finally, out of the back, _the_ future of this industry, slowly walks out of the back. He has his head lowered, and slowly wraps his hand around his left wrists, twisting the wrist, followed by a neck roll. He wears a black T-shirt, with "WWADD" in white lettering over the front of the shirt. Faded blue jeans, with a few slight rips, and a few stains, more then likely blood stains, from the wars, from the battles, from the unreal sacrifices he has placed himself through. He walks out, and stands at the center of the ramp, and slowly raises his arms to his side, in a crucifix position, as you notice the blood red wrist tape around his wrist, and through the fingers of his right hand...] # You don't know the chances. What if I should die? # # A place inside my brain, another kind of pain # # You don't know the chances. I'm so blind # [...Courtade slowly walks to the ring, down the ramp, ignoring the fans totally. He heads to the ring, finally entering the ring area, and slowly sauntering up the ring steps. He stops on the ring apron, and walks through the middle rope, sliding into the ring... The crowd begins to sing in rhythm with the song.] # You don't know the chances. What if I should die? # # A place inside my brain, another kind of pain # # You don't know the chances. I'm so blind # [...Courtade then climbs the ropes, the middle rope to be exact, and raises his arms to his side, showing the crowd his chiseled, yet battle torn body. Some boo this sight, while others cheer. Camera's flash all around the arena, and slowly Courtade hops down. Courtade peers at Austin, as he smirks, somewhat, ripping the mic out of his hand. He then gets with an inch of Austin's face, and glues his eyes upon Austin's.] CC: Allow me to introduce myself to you, "champ". I'm the best thing in this business today... tomorrow... _ever_. I'm the only man with the balls to call out you, her, and this entire company, night in... and night out. And you would be? [Courtade doesn't allow Austin to speak.] CC: ...someone I don't give a s[bleep] about. [Mixed pop!] CC: Face it "champ". Beating Johnny Bod, and title shots against piles of flour mized with water, doesn't make you anyone important. Sure, you got yourself a little title. Sure, I bet you go home at night, and you look at it fondly, hoping to hell you'll keep it forever. But, kid? While you're pulling curtains, night in, and night out... I continue to bring this company down... one night at a time. [Courtade looks at Reed quickly.] CC: This man? Gets a shot at Daniels? [Reed nods, as Courtade turns back to Austin.] CC: Lemme get this straight. This pile of s[bleep] wins a belt that no one gives a rat's ass about, and you reward him with a title shot? [Reed nods, _again_.] CC: Christ all mighty, and I thought giving Styles a shot was the low point of this company. [HUGE WE HATE RICK STYLES POP!, as Courtade turns his attention back to Reed.] CC: This is the exact type of bulls[bleep] this company has been feeding your "loyal fans" for years. Who in the f[bleep] cares about Idol Austin, against Scott Daniels? F[bleep] Christ. Lionheart... then Austin? You get all wet for jackasses that do flippy moves or something Reed? [Reed, obviously, no responses Courtade.] CC: Bitch, answer me! [With that, Reed's eyes bulge out, as Courtade lashes at her, grabbing her by her neck.] CC: I could snap your god damn neck at any time, so, when I ask you a question, you better damn well answer me bitch! [Reed's eyes bulge even more, as Courtade's eyes begin to get glazed over.] DR: Get your damn hands off of her! SS: Someone has to stop this damn lunatic! [Courtade suddenly lets go of Reed.] CC: Not tonight, bitch... Not _tonight_. Ya see, tonight, I've got a bigger bitch to beat. Daniels, I don't give a damn about that damn title around your waste, I just want to end your god damn career. People call you the martyr of this company... People call me the devil himself. That means... you and I? Well, we've got a date to dance... _bitch_. Did me not busting your god damn head open piss you off enough? Did me, week in, and week out, calling you a god damn "bitch", not make you find the balls to simply walk down the aisle... and prove to me that you have a heart? Or, is it just to much for you, to actually fight Daniels? Is it too much for you to show that you've got a damn heart? After being Reed's nut warmer for years, you all of a sudden have these idiots in the palm of your hand, and you think that makes you "the man", don't you? You think that just because you've got a piece of gold around your waist, that you're the one looking down from the mountain top, as _I_ climb to meet you, don't you? Well Daniels? I don't care about my title, and I damn sure don't care about _your_ title. As far as I'm concerned...I just wanna see you bleed. So, tonight... [Courtade wheels around to Austin.] CC: ...F[bleep] you! Daniels ass belongs to _me_! [President Reed smoothes her skirt, and speaks again.] SR: Alright, you've made your point, Courtade. I'll tell you what. Tonight, inside this ring here on Rampage, Scott "Hotspot" Daniels will take on the current Cruiserweight Champion _AND_ the current North American Champion, in a three way dance for the World Title only. [Courtade begins to smirk, and Austin's now a little irritated at having his own title match grow.] _BUT_. I'm sick and tired of Tradition members sticking their noses into the affairs of Scott Daniels, so let's put it inside of a steel cage. [HUGE POP!] DR: Daniels, Austin, Courtade, in a cage!?! AM: What a main event! SS: Count the minutes you have left, Scott. ["Southside" starts to play again, as Austin tries to persuade the president to change her mind back. Reed exits the ring as Courtade smirks, pointing at Austin and giving him the last rites. Finally Courtade and Austin leave the ring, separately.] AM: What a main event, just a week out from Gold Rush! President Reed can really pull off a surprise, can't she? SS: Blah blah, stupid chicks. DR: We'll definitely be looking forward to that one. Meanwhile after the show last week, "Agony" Michael Augustine was attacked viciously in the parking lot by "Sudden Death" Shane Matthews. AM: He had it coming to him, look at the destruction Augustine caused earlier that night. He demolished Johnny Terror, Shane's manager. SS: Terror smart mouthed him. AM: He did not! DR: Regardless, Michael Augustine refused hospital and EMT treatment after the attack. But we were able to get comments from him however, so let's go to those now. [The camera opens on Allison Ivey opening up her gym bag. Ivey sits on a bench in the middle of a locker room... a locker room that has been destroyed. The mirror on the wall has been broken. The lamp sits on the floor next to a cracked end table. The couch has been torn to shreds. And the man sitting next to Allison is the worst looking of them all] AI: Ok... [Ivey pulls out a first-aid kit and sets it on the bench between her and "Agony" Michael Augustine. Augustine's face and neck are covered in bruises, dark even against his Italian features. On his right cheek is a open cut, apparent by the red stain on the white guaze he hold pressed against his skin. And in his eyes as he stares... fire.] AI: ...now, I haven't done this in two years, when Bob cut his hand chopping vegetables. And I won't lie... it's going to hurt, Mike. [No response from Augustine, who simply blinks.] AI: So don't get pissed at me. YOU'RE the one who wanted to do this here instead of going to a hospital. [Allison opens the kit, and lays out a blue cloth. On the cloth, she begins laying out various medical implements - a pair of EMT scissors, a needle, a roll of thread, and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol.] AI: This is probably going to leave a slight scar on your skin, Mike. Just warning you. [Again, silence.] AI: Okay... let me see the cut. [Augustine keeps staring off into the distance as he removes the guaze from the cut... and even though pressure has been applied, a small amount of dark blood oozes out and runs down his cheek.] AI: Damn... Matthews jacked you up. [Augustine's eyes narrow slightly as Allison dumps some of the rubbing alcohol on a piece of guaze. She reaches up and wipes at the cut, dabbing away at the excess blood. Augustine's eyes wide briefly as the liquid stings him, but then resume their hard glare.] AI: Those bruises ain't gonna go away anytime soon. I don't know how in the hell Matthews got the best of you. [Ivey's tone gets condescending as she runs the thread through the eye of the needle, but Augustine doesn't show any response.] AI: You're damn lucky...I was the ultimate Girl Scout. Any badges I didn't earn, I stole. First Aid and Emergency Medicine were my specialities. Anything the Scouts didn't teach, the Major did. [Augustine, again, just ignores Allison] AI: Fine...I know you're pissed as all hell right now, Mike. I know right now you're focusing your anger or whatever it is you do when someone gets the better of you. [Allison puts the needle up to his face, holding it in front of his unseeing eyes.] AI: But when I stick this in, it's going to hurt like a mother[BLEEP]er. So don't you dare go off on me when it happens. You save that anger for Shane Matthews. You save that anger for a man who got the drop on you. You save that anger for Randall Osborne, Michael, who's going to be standing across the ring from you next week. [As Allison talks, she puts the needle up to the cut...] AI: Save all that anger. [...and drives it into his skin. One would expect Augustine to react, jerk, or even flinch...but all that happens is that a slight sound escapes his lips as Allison completes the first stitch. Allison stares in awe... ...and fear.] AI: [whispered] Damn. [Augustine turns his eyes towards Allison, looking dead at her.] MA: They're both [BLEEP]in' dead. [The sentence has the weight of quiet rage behind it as Augustine turns his eyes back towards the far wall. Allison shakes her head softly, clearing out the words, before going back to work on the stitches. Fade.] AM: That man is absolutely terrifying at times. SS: They don't call him the Philadelphia Psycho to sell t-shirts. DR: Michael Augustine is obviously in a rare mood tonight, and the tension surrounding this tag team match later tonight is thick enough to cut with a machete. [Backstage in a hallway, we see Chaos and Terror walking.] Ch: I'm telling ya Terry, they stepped in it big time. Te: My cousin is rightfully angry, yes? Ch: I am sick and tired of some [BLEEP]less asshole trying to make themselves look tough by attacking Mel. Do they have any comprehension of what happens when you put your hands on my woman? Te: My cousin is overprotective, yes? Ch: Overprotective my ass! Just because two yahoos realize that, even by combining two overused gimmicks into one and beating it to death with endless run-ins, they still can't get over. That still gives them no right to attack Mel! Te: My cousin makes a good point, but he shouldn't let it distract him from bigger issues, yes? [Chaos stops and turns to Terror.] Ch: Bigger issues? Sweet Angry Jesus Terry! Name one other thing, one thing, that concerns us right now! Te: Team Canada, yes? [Chaos seems a bit surprised as he suddenly remembers who the number one contenders are at Gold Rush.] Ch: [BLEEP]! Te: Forgot about them, yes? Ch: Dammit! Between that bitch Erin McCoys and what happened last week, I almost forgot about that. Te: Old rivalry rekindled, yes? Ch: I don't think any of us have recovered from those matches last year. Ladder matches, table matches, that damned Vegas Rumble. Te: At least now Team Canada are our friends, yes? Ch: You're kidding, right? Terry, this is for the World Tag Team Championship, OUR World Tag Team Championship. When these are on the line, we have no friends. You know that, I know that, and you can be damn sure Bob and Trevor know that. Te: So this will be another war, yes? Ch: Yeah, only this time it's not hardcore. Te: Not yet anyway, yes? [Chaos stops in his tracks. He gets an evil grin on his face as he turns to his cousin. Terror looks back to him and smiles.] Te: It is a Harlequins versus Team Canada match after all, yes? Ch: You've got five minutes. Talk to Reed and meet me back here in time for our payback.] [Terror bounds off down the hall in the opposite direction as Chaos continues on his way. Back to the arena.] AM: There's a tag team you don't want to make angry. But that's something the Bull Moose Party did last week by attacking Melody. Dangerous games, guys. DR: And as you heard from Terror and Chaos, they'll be facing Team Canada at Gold Rush for their World Tag Team Championship. In another championship match, Tigress will defend against "Superstar" Stephanie Harper. But tonight, they'll team up to face the Throbbing Mattress Kittens. SS: Yeah, and Harper had the nerve to try and start something with Tigress when she got to the building earlier. DR: Sam, that's not true and you know it. [A blue car pulls into the parking lot at the Morton Stadium, and slowly slides into an empty space. The driver then emerges from the vehicle... UWF competitor Superstar Stephanie Harper. The tall woman wears her white Sun Belt Angels windbreaker over a blue Texas Rangers T-shirt, and also wears blue jeans and a black baseball cap on her head, her long brown hair flowing to her shoulders. She shuts the door and opens up the trunk, reaching in to pull out her sports bag. Emerging unseen from the dimly-lit lot is Tigress, already dressed in her ring attire, tho her hair is hanging in her face like normal and she is wearing a trenchcoat to shield her from the chill. She stands right behind Harper with her arms crossed, waiting for her to turn around. As Steph pulls the bag out from the trunk, she takes a step back, but stops when she feels her shoe brush against something. She turns around and sees Tigress standing there. Steph seems a little surprised at first, but quickly recovers and sets her bag down before placing her hands on her hips.] Tigress: Boo. Steph: Didn't want to wait for me to get inside the arena, I see. Tigress: Why should I? Steph: Figured that's where we'd _want_ to discuss strategy... That is, if you really are going to work with me in this match tonight, unlike Adam Grayson. Tigress: Well, I don't have a [bleep] to think with. [Steph slams the trunk shut. She returns Tigress with a look of seriousness.] Steph: That's comforting to know. Tigress: The _real_ question is, however, how bad do you want to win? Steph: [leaning against the trunk] Well, let's just say that the TMK aren't exactly my friends. Then again, neither are you. Tigress: I didn't ask if Los Gatitas or I were your friends. I asked how badly you want to win. [Steph returns a hard stare at Tigress.] Steph: If you want a more direct answer to your question, I won't be holding anything back. But let's just say there are certain tactics of yours that I'm not going to have a part of. Tigress: [mocking] Let's just say I'm not asking you to. Steph: I didn't think you would, but what that means is I'm not about to cross those lines to win. Tigress: So you would sacrifice victory to uphold your... [stops to find the word] moral principles? [Steph reaches down to grab her sports bag, but never takes her eyes off Tigress.] Steph: There's always a way to victory without violating what you refer to as my "moral principles." Tigress: [grinning wolfishly] Don't be so sure, puta. Steph: Well, I guess we'll find out tonight, won't we? [Steph moves to leave. Tigress sits on the hood of Harper's car, watching her walk away.] Tigress: One more thing, Harper. [Steph pauses, turning toward Tigress and not blinking an eye.] Tigress: Everyone has a dark side, an aspect of their personality that they do not want to admit exists. I'm simply honest about mine... [Steph's eyes narrow.] Steph: Oh, I'll admit I showed my dark side in the past, but the difference is: I don't allow it to dictate my path anymore. Tigress: But what if it's the only path available? [Steph pauses for a moment before answering.] Steph: There's always another path to take. I learned that myself. [pauses again] But apparently you didn't. Tigress: Sometimes you'll never learn where a path leads until you actually take it. [Tigress leans back on the car hood and crosses her legs. Steph's thoughts dwell back to how she traveled down that path -- the time when she ran away from home and felt she had no friends anymore. After a moment, she speaks.] Steph: True, but when I took that path, I learned one thing: I wasn't going to take that path again. Tigress: But what makes you think I'm going down the path you did? I never ran away from home. [Steph puts her free hand on her hip.] Steph: Maybe not, but let's just say experience can go a long way. [Tigress hops down from the car, and places her hand on her hip, mimicking Harper in an insulting way.] Tigress: Let's just say... people react differently to their experiences. [Steph gives what appears, for a moment, a slight smile, but her face grows serious again.] Steph: I've seen that for myself. Tigress: Then don't try to stop me. Steph: [almost whispering] We'll see about that. [She then turns and begins to walk away again.] Tigress: [calling after] See you in the ring, chica. [Steph turns her head back momentarily, looking at Tigress, but then turns away and heads to the arena... Tigress looks back into the shadows and smiles. Fade.] DR: That should be quite the contest later on. SS: Tigress should bring Harley out and let her chew on Harper for a while. Put us all out of our misery. AM: SAM! DR: The first match tonight is the sixth and possibly final in the best of seven series of contests between Youth Gone Wild and Quinn Brown. If you've been watching the last few weeks, you'll know that these two men have waged some incredible wars. SS: Tonight it ends for Brown. Youth Gone Wild is primed for a shot at Daniels after he wins the series. AM: You said that last week too, and yet Quinn is still standing. SS: He'll be lucky if he's standing after this match. AMY- [shoves Amy, startling her] GET THE GURNEY! AM: Don't you ever touch me again. _____ _ _ _ _____ .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.| | | | | | __|.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. Saturday Night Rampage| | | | | | __|Saturday Night Rampage |_____|_____|__| BEST OF SEVEN SERIES MATCH SIX: Youth Gone Wild[3] versus Quinn Brown[2] -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- Writer: Mike Beeby DH: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is part of the Best of Seven Series! [HUGE POP!] Introducing first... ["Youth Gone Wild" explodes from the PA system, causing the crowd to become incredibly hostile.] From Buffalo, New York, weighing in at two hundred and fifteen pounds, representing Tradition... YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUTH GOOOOOOOOONNNNNNE WIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLD! [Wild emerges from the back to a loud heel pop mixed in with a ton of boos, as he headbangs to the music. Amazing what a year's worth of associating with villains will do to your popularity. Wild runs straight to the ring, leaps to the apron and backflips into the ring.] AM: What a show-off. SS: He only needs this win and it's sayonara Quinny. AM: Don't get too sure of yourself Sam, this is far from over. Quinn won last week, and I'm willing to put money on his desire to win this week too. [Wild climbs the turnbuckles, arms outstretched to the crowd, and has to duck a beer bottle. "All Around The World" replaces Skid Row, to enormous cheers!] DH: And his opponent! From Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at two hundred and thirty-three pounds, accompanied to the ring by Victoria Marquess... QUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNN BRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWNNNNNNN! [Quinn bursts into the arena quickly, with Victoria following close by. They slap hands with the crowd as they make their way towards ringside, but before he can enter the ring Wild dives out with a baseball slide dropkick that just narrowly misses both Quinn and Victoria! Brown hammers Wild with a roundhouse kick to knock the former world champion backwards, then a monkey flip sends YGW atop the ringsteps where he lands on his feet!] DR: Incredible agility from both of these men, and that's before the contest has begun! [Wild waits for QB to return to his feet and...] AM: MOONSAULT ONTO QUINN! Damn you Wild! [Both men slowly get back to their feet, but Wild is up first and rolls his opponent into the squared circle. Wild himself slingshots over the ropes onto Quinn, but as he hooks the leg QB kicks out immediately. Both men scramble to their feet, and it's Quinn who lashes out with a pair of knife-edge chops across the throat. Wild backpedals to the corner, and Quinn grabs him with a front facelock, spins out of the corner and hits a tornado DDT! 1 -- Wild kicks out, rolling back to the floor.] DR: Good lord, Wild kicked out of that maneuver! AM: We've seen Wild come back after near death, same goes for Quinn. This match and this series are both still up in the air. SS: Don't give them any ideas, Marshall. [Quinn executes a kip-up back to his feet and climbs to the middle turnbuckle, waiting for YGW to get up. He leaps off into a hurricanrana as the Traditionalist rises up, but Wild counters by driving his opponent straight to hell into the mat. The crowd shudders at the impact of the move, and Wild flips over with a cradle on Quinn. 1 -- 2 -- But Quinn rolls his shoulder up in time! POP!] SS: DAMMIT! DR: Tremendous, yet again Brown staves off defeat! Youth Gone Wild back on his feet again, and puts a chinlock on Quinn. [YGW backs up into the corner and climbs to the second turnbuckle, still applying the chinlock. He jumps off, flying over QB's head and snaps him into the canvas again, leaving Brown laying motionless on the mat. Fearfully, Victoria watches from ringside with her hands over her eyes, and Wild arrogantly drapes an arm across Quinn's chest again. 1 -- 2 -- And Quinn responds with a quick roll-up, pinning Wild to the mat! 1 -- 2 -- Wild kicks out! HEEL POP! YGW sits up with a sputter, and grabs Quinn by the boot. Wild rises up and pulls Brown up onto one foot, then tries to spin him into the mat with a dragon screw legwhip. Quinn hits a one legged dropkick to Wild's face to counter though, and then rolls to the ropes and springs backwards with an elbow to the face... but is caught by Wild and planted with a release german suplex!] AM: Oh my god, they're trying to top each other so hard, they're going to kill one another. SS: To be the best, you have to kill the best. DR: Both Quinn Brown and Youth Gone Wild want to be known as the best daredevil in the world, and based on what we've seen in this series either man could lay claim to it. [YGW rolls to his feet and stops Brown from getting up with a knee to the back of the head, then slingshots to the outside canvas, to the middle of the top rope and drops a 450 splash across Quinn's chest. Again the crowd heel pops heavily, as Wild rolls off, clutching his own chest in pain. Even still, he rises first, kipping up just as QB did a few moments earlier. The smug cruiserweight climbs the turnbuckles, raising his arms to the crowd but is greeted with resounding boos, while slowly Quinn staggers to his feet.] SS: AIR TRADITION! BWAHAHAHAHA! AM: FLYING NECKBREAKER! YOUTH GONE WILD SNAPPED QUINN BROWN IN HALF! DR: ONE! TWO! THRE- NOOO! BROWN IS STILL UP! [YGW slaps the mat in anger, and drags a lifeless Brown to the turnbuckles once more. He climbs up to the top rope, smirks down at Brown on the mat and leaps off again, somersaulting in midair into a corkscrew legdrop. The crowd gasps, and Wild covers Quinn Brown again.] DR: One! Two! Thr- NO NO NO! QUINN BROWN WILL NOT BE PINNED! AM: I knew it, his will to win is enough to carry him through absolutely anything Wild throws his way! SS: Wild thought he had him with that Guillotine Legdrop, I can't believe this! DR: This match has been controlled mostly by Youth Gone Wild, but every time he tries to put his opponent away, Quinn kicks out of a sure pin. [Wild rolls to his feet, kicking at the ropes and yelling to the official that he's fired. The referee can only watch as Wild rolls out to the floor, and pulls up the apron.] AM: This isn't a hardcore match Wild, get back in the ring. DR: No, I think Wild is resorting to old- [YGW drags a ladder out from under the ring. A twenty footer. MONSTER HEEL POP!] DR: -tricks. AM: Oh my god. Not this again. [Brown pulls himself back to his feet as Wild continues dragging the ladder out from underneath the ring, until it's lying in the aisle. Brown slingshots out to the floor on top of Wild with a twisting bodypress, but is caught in mid-air. Wild lets go of him and starts to execute a wheelbarrow suplex, but Brown counters into a wheelbarrow bulldog, himself flying into the crowd as his foe's head smashes off the dasher board! QB backs up a few steps and then runs, does a handstand off the boards and into a moonsault on the floor on Wild!] AM: Whoa! Quinn's been re-energized! DR: And as Brown drags Wild back onto his feet, Victoria Marquess is leading the crowd in cheering him on. Back suplex on the floor! Brown to the top of the ringsteps now, senton bomb! BUT HE MISSES! SS: YES! [Brown struggles to sit up, the impact from the missed senton obviously affecting his back and spine. Wild somersaults backwards to his feet before grabbing Brown and throwing him into the ring, and props the ladder up so that it's lying out from the ring and the dasher boards like a bridge. He slips into the ring, grabs Brown and executes an implant DDT, then rolls Quinn out stretched onto the ladder. As he climbs to the outside, the chants grow louder. "QUINN! QUINN! QUINN! QUINN!" Wild looks around furiously at the crowd for upstaging 'his moment', and then climbs onto the top turnbuckle. He stands upright, facing the opposite way...] SS: This is either gonna destroy Brown, or destroy Youth. There's no middle ground. AM: I can't watch this. [A leap.] DR: MOONSAULT! MOONSAULT ONTO QUINN BROWN! YOUTH GONE WILD SPLASHED HIS OPPONENT ON TOP OF THAT LADDER, AND IT HAD ABSOLUTELY NO GIVE TO IT! [Both men are decimated from this, and badly dazed. Wild is curled up into the fetal position, his stomach aching from the impact of crashing upon Brown. And Brown, he's barely conscious at all, hanging over the edge of the ladder with his foot entanged in one of the rungs. The crowd starts a new chant: "HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!" Victoria tries to help Quinn off the ladder, but he's like dead weight as she's unable to lift him back onto it to free his leg.] DR: This is incredible, with the risks both of these men have taken in the contest... Just amazing. SS: The bloodthirsty fans want more though, demonic sons of- AM: Youth Gone Wild somehow is back to his knees, I don't know how he can continue after that moonsault. [Wild clutches his ribcage and rolls into the ring, breaking the count. Rolling back out he pulls the ladder and knocks it to the floor, Quinn tumbling to the cement as well. The leg now freed, Wild rolls his lifeless opponent into the ring and points to the top again, to an even louder heel pop than before.] DR: Oh come on, this is overkill. Don't do it Wild. AM: You proved your point, stop it now! SS: IT'S WIN CITY OR BUST! [Wild pauses, takes a deep breath and climbs up again to the top turnbuckle. As the crowd gasps, Wild leaps off one more time, landing on top of Quinn with his signature, the Wildflyer! Brown twitches a little, and Wild hooks the leg.] AM: [quietly] It's over. DR: One! Two! Thr- HE PULLED BROWN UP!?! AM: That jerk wants to take Quinn's career! Tell the referee to just stop the match before they're crippled for life! [Wild looks at Quinn and shakes his head, then rolls to the outside. He scoops up the ladder once more and slides it under the bottom ropes, as the crowd explodes! Villain or not, they're suckers for ladder spots.] DR: I have a very bad feeling about this. AM: You and me both. SS: What a complete lack of faith you two have. [YGW pulls the ladder up and tries to set it up in the middle of the ring, but has trouble pulling the legs apart, thanks to the apparatus being slightly damaged by that moonsault of his. After about a minute of trying to get it to stand on it's own, Quinn Brown has regained some of his footing, clawing his way up by the first couple of rungs. Wild kicks him in the ribs once more and proceeds to climb the ladder, slowly. But with every rung he ascends, Brown fights to climb up just as high. The crowd reaches a crescendo as they both stand atop the ladder, each one balancing with one hand and hammering back and forth with their other hands.] DR: There's so much damn desire to win this match, it's crossed over a line of sanity! AM: Of course it has! They're suicidal! [_PUNCH!_ Wild convulses and hangs on for dear life. _PUNCH!_ It's Brown's turn to try and keep his grip. _PUNCH!_ Now Quinn has to grab the ladder with both hands. Wild grabs him by the head and slams his face off the top rung, but Quinn responds in kind. Now a headbutt rocks Wild, and another hard shot across the face frees YGW's grip... The crowd screams as Wild falls, hotshotting himself on the top rope!] DR: This match is getting very far out of control... Wild rolls to the floor and Quinn... Oh no. AM: Oh no! Don't! SS: DON'T YOU DARE EVEN TRY, BROWN! [After steadying himself on the ladder, Quinn slowly pulls himself up even higher, to the second last step on top. He teeters, trying to maintain his balance some twenty-five feet off the arena floor, as Youth Gone Wild backs up into the aisle, half-aware of his opponent and half-dazed.] AM: No, no, no... SS: You don't have the balls to do it, Q-Ball. [Oh yes he does. In what could only be described as breathtaking Brown makes the last step to the absolute top of the twenty foot ladder, uses it as a launchpad and takes to the air, rising so high up in the air he nearly hits his head on the lighting rig. And with any flight, it's the descent that's much more deadly... Brown twists and turns in the air, again... and again... and again... before crashing into Youth Gone Wild like a freight train! Silence from the crowd, and then... EARTHSHATTERING POP!] AM: MY GOD! MY GOD! MY GOD! DR: 720 SPLASH! QUINN BROWN FLEW TWENTY-FIVE FEET IN THE AIR AND DID A 720 SPLASH ON YOUTH GONE WILD! BUT IS ANYBODY LEFT IN THIS MATCH? [Officials and emergency workers are on the scene immediately, but somehow both wrestlers are still alive and breathing. Wild appears to be completely unconscious, and Brown's leg is the only thing that's moving. The official has stopped the count in the match, not wanting to end the contest this way.] DR: This match is over, how could either Quinn or Wild continue after _THAT_? AM: I don't know, but... Jesus. Quinn is trying to get up. QUINN IS TRYING TO GET UP! SS: What the hell is that man made of? I never would have figured he'd have the guts to pull something like that off! [Brown rises, a dead man walking as he staggers one step at a time to the ring. Wild crawls, his hands and knees the only way he knows how, following Quinn to ringside. Quinn flops against the side of the ring and rolls himself in, and Wild uses every bit of his remaining strength to pull his body under the ropes. Their bodies racked with pain, each sits in a corner facing one another, breathing heavily and not doing much else.] AM: How? How on earth can this thing just keep going? DR: This rivalry is not going away any time soon. [Brown pulls himself up with the top rope, and Wild matches his opponent. Neither of the two has great balance at this point, but they lock up and the crowd is standing on it's feet collectively. Brown ducks a punch and hooks Wild.] AM: Suplex! DR: Wild counters into a small package! One! Two! AM: HE HOOKED THE TIGHTS! DR: THREE! THREE! YOUTH GONE WILD WINS THE MATCH AND THE SERIES! AM: NOOOO! ["Youth Gone Wild" screams over the PA once more as Wild and Quinn lie on the mat, and the announcement comes a few seconds later.] DH: Here is your winner, and the winner of the Best of Seven Series... YYYYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTH GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLD! AM: What a war! We've never seen anything like what they put each other through, and I daresay we never will again. SS: I told you Youth would put Brown out to pasture. But man, I'll give Brown all the credit he's due, it took everything Wild had and then some to pull it off. DR: Nobody will ever forget that death-defying 720 splash from the top of that ladder. Nobody. [The other members of Tradition walk down the ramp to the ring, cheering their ally on. "Crimson" Joe Reed and "Top Dog" Rick Styles pick Wild up and put him on their shoulders, carrying the victorious wrestler out while the crowd watches in shock at the outcome. Back inside the ring Brown continues to lay on the mat.] AM: He gave everything he had, he shocked the world, and in the end it was a handful of tights that cost him the match. DR: Maybe so, but listen to this crowd. It wasn't Youth Gone Wild who grabbed their attention tonight, it was Quinn Brown who wowed them. [Victoria tearfully rolls into the ring, and helps Quinn to his feet. Battered, bruised, having trouble standing, Quinn leans on his lady as the audience lets him know what they think of his performance with a standing ovation. HUGE POP!] SS: I take back what I said about him being gutless, Brown might be a lot of things, but a coward he's not. What a move. What a match. DR: It's a performance I don't think we'll ever forget, that's for sure. And now I'm being told that our next contest has a very interested audience member, who's standing by with Moe Owens. [The screen switches and we see Moe Owens standing next to the retaining guard wall at ringside. To the immediate left of where Moe is standing, we see "Too Cool" Chris Hopper sitting at ringside. He is chatting with some of the other people sitting at ringside. As Quinn Brown and Victoria Marquess walk by on their way to the locker room, Hopper rises out of his seat and claps Brown on the shoulder. Sitting back down, Moe takes his cue and begins to speak.] MO: Hello fans, Moe Owens here at ringside with a face we haven't seen in a couple of weeks, not since he lost his last match to Shane Matthews. "Too Cool" Chris Hopper. [Moe turns toward Hopper, who notices and stops talking to his neighbors at ringside.] MO: Chris, may I bother you for a moment? [Hopper stands up. He looks like a common fan, well except for the fact he stands 6'8" and has a well-defined physique. He is wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt. The shirt is black and on it is the familiar sight of a little boy with his pants pulled down. His back to the viewer and we see the stream of fluid coming from the boy's mid-section and landing on the word "Styles". Hopper smiles as he has the microphone put in front of him.] CH: Sure, I am always willing to accommodate you Moe. What's up? MO: Chris, we haven't seen you since your loss a few weeks back to "Sudden Death" Shane Matthews. That was your first defeat here in UWF, and many feel that you were no showing due to being upset at the loss. What do you have to say as a response? [Hopper chuckles a little and just shakes his head slightly before answering.] CH: Well Matthews is a top wrestler. He is a Wrestlebowl Champion and honestly the toughest man I have faced in UWF to date, and that includes the five lackeys Williams threw at me a month or so ago. There is nothing wrong with losing to someone like Matthews. I wasn't around due to commitments elsewhere, but I wanted to make sure I was here to watch this card for sure. [Moe nods and asks his next question.] MO: This show does seem to hold a lot in you immediate future, doesn't it? CH: It sure does Moe, especially this match right here. The man who holds the Rampage Title is in my direct line of fire sometime in the near future and it is in my best interest to do as much scouting as possible. [Moe Owens once again nods in agreement.] MO: Chris, your match at Gold Rush is what places you in that direct line for the Rampage Title. Have you already began thinking about John Williams and the "Hell in the Cell" match you have coming up? Many wrestlers have been seriously injured in matches like this, so you can't take it lightly at all. CH: You never take a match like that lightly. I plan on walking into that cell and battling till I have nothing left. Hopefully that will be enough to walk out the winner. I know there is nothing else I would rather do than destroy that rat Bas[bleep], John Williams after all he has done to me. The Rampage Title shot is just a perk added onto the match. When Gold Rush is over, I will have won twice. Once by beating Williams to within an inch of his miserable life and twice for earning a Rampage Title shot. My career is just getting started here in UWF, and you can believe you will see nothing but the best out of the "King of Cool". MO: Thanks Chris. [Moe turns back to the camera as Chris sits down at ringside.] MO: Chris Hopper here at ringside, gearing up for Gold Rush and beyond. Back to you guys. [Back to the announcers.] SS: If he's the King of Cool, I'm the Queen of England. AM: You'd be half right. DR: I'm getting word that Tradition's celebration is in full swing after Youth Gone Wild's win over Quinn Brown, but Quinn himself is receiving quite a reception in the back too. [Cut quickly to the back, into the large technical and storage area of the arena. Several wrestlers have surrounded Quinn Brown, who to his credit seems mostly lucid even after the match. "Cardiac Kid" Joey Valachi, Brian McKenzie of the Fraternity Boys, Johnny Bod and Shane Matthews are just some of the people congratulating Quinn on his big move, and none of them seem to realize(or care) that it was YGW who won the match. Fade back to the arena.] DR: There's no shortage of respect in the locker room for Quinn Brown after his display tonight. SS: Aw let's just get on to the next match. _____ _ _ _ _____ .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.| | | | | | __|.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. Saturday Night Rampage| | | | | | __|Saturday Night Rampage |_____|_____|__| FOR THE RAMPAGE CHAMPIONSHIP: Eugene "High Society" Robinson[c] versus Tragedy -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- Writer: Mike Beeby DH: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is for the Rampage Championship! Introducing first, the challenger... [As Debs steps back, the lights drop out from the arena and a single spotlight hits the entrance portal. "Unloved" by Aleixa begins to play, and the crowd releases a loud pop!] From Sleepy Hollow, Illinois, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-four pounds, representing the Dark Harlequins and accompanied to the ring by Comedy... TTTRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGEEEEEEEDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! [Tragedy comes to the ring wearing black leather pants and boots with silver buckles running from his hips to his ankles. He also wears a black mesh sleeveless shirt, fingerless gloves and armpads that run from his wrists to his elbows. Comedy walks out next to her husband, dressed in a jester-like bodysuit as always, coxcomb and shoes with pointed toes. Comedy carries the Happy Hammer in her hands, and takes a place at ringside as Tragedy slides into the ring.] AM: Trag wants the Rampage Title back in the Harlequins fold, since it was Eugene who stole it from Prophet last week. SS: Stole is such a nasty word, Amy. I prefer absconded with. DH: And the champion! [Pink Floyd's "Money" starts to play, and a hail of boos rains down from the crowd.] From the People's Republic of Congo, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-seven pounds, the current Rampage Champion... EUUUUUUGEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNE "HIIIIIIGH SOCIEEEEEEETY" RRRRRRROOOBINSOOOON! [Robinson enters the arena, wearing his ring attire as well as the golden championship belt around his waist. Strutting down to ringside he takes the belt off and kisses it, then shows it to Tragedy before setting it down on the timekeeper's table. Hopper and Robinson exchange looks before Eugene turns back to the ring.] AM: Oh quit stalling you idiot, and get in the ring for the beating you deserve. DR: Eugene looks like he wants no part of Tragedy, and given what we've seen this man do, it's no surprise. [Robinson climbs slowly onto the ring apron, and Tragedy goes right for Eugene, lunging forward. Robinson jumps down to the floor again, and grabs Tragedy's leg, pulling him out of the ring instead. He delivers a pair of hard shots to the side of the head, but Tragedy fires back and knocks Eugene into the boards. The Rampage Champ tries to run around to the other side of the ring, but Tragedy grabs him by the tights and throws him into the ring first. Trag slides in headfirst, and takes a knee right to the back of the neck. Eugene applies a seated armbar, wrenching on the shoulder muscles as well as the tricep area, causing Tragedy to reach out for the ropes. Once Eugene releases him, Tragedy bolts forward, tackling him to the mat.] AM: Yes! Go on Tragedy! DR: The UWF/MBC Joint Light Heavyweight Champion is firing away on Eugene Robinson with a flurry of bodyshots! Eugene crawling to the corner, and a knee to the face. SS: Ever here of a five second count, referee?!? [The official gets in between Robinson and Tragedy, but as he does Eugene takes advantage and low blows Trag between the legs. A clothesline knocks him down next, and Eugene tries to strap on a sharpshooter, but Tragedy uses his leg strength to trip 'Gene up. The Rampage Champion scrambles to his feet, but runs right into a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker. Tragedy grinds a knee into the back of Eugene's neck, applying pressure in the form of a reverse chinlock. Back in the crowd, Hopper watches intently.] AM: The crowd wants to see a new champion, that's for sure. They're solidly behind Tragedy. DR: Tragedy pulls Eugene back to his feet, and is now working away on the arm and shoulder. Takeover armdrag with authority! Amazing! SS: Suicidal maniac! That could pop a shoulder out in a second! AM: I think that's the idea. [Tragedy goes for a cross armbreaker, but again Eugene fights to the ropes, using the referee to break things up. Trag pulls Robinson back onto his feet, and attempts a kneelift. Eugene catches his leg in mid-move and executes a capture suplex that leaves the Dark Harlequin semi-conscious on the mat. Robinson grabs his legs and leaps over into a cradle. 1 -- 2 -- Kickout!] AM: That was close. Too close. SS: Give Eugene just a little bit of credit, Amy. He's not just a piece of meat you know. AM: Don't even start with that again. [Eugene pulls Tragedy up, throws him into the ropes and hits a tilt-a-whirl slam of his own. Again Robinson goes for the cover. 1 -- 2 -- Tragedy kicks out again. Eugene goes to the ropes and drops an axehandle off the middle rope, then flips him over and applies a half Boston crab.] SS: Grind away! Break that leg! The sooner you win, the sooner Amy here can calm down and take a cold shower. DR: Tragedy is struggling to reach the ropes, but Eugene Robinson has this hooked in tightly. AM: Trag got them! [Comedy leads the cheers as Tragedy is able to break the hold, and Eugene grabs him by the head right away and clubs with a forearm, then into a chinlock. The native of Illinois escapes after a pair of stiff elbows to the midsection, bounces off the ropes and takes Eugene backwards with a flying forearm to the head. Robinson doesn't leave his feet, but a floating neckbreaker does the trick. Tragedy takes a few seconds before pulling himself up, but upon doing so he takes Eugene and catapults him into the turnbuckles. Trag catches him from behind with a dragon suplex into a cradle, but Eugene kicks out at the last second! Boo!] DR: Now Tragedy is pulling out all the stops, with that incredible dragon suplex. And a La Magistral Cradle gets him another near fall! [Tragedy rises again, as does Eugene. Trag hammers away with a hard shot across the face, and then ties Eugene up with an abdominal stretch. Robinson fights it and grabs for the ropes, then manages to hiptoss Tragedy to the outside apron. A neck snap drops the challenger to the ringside area, and Eugene rolls out and grabs a bundle of cabling. He conceals his actions from the referee, wrapping the cable around Tragedy's neck and trying to choke the life out of him, but the crowd boos him heavily for it. Trag struggles to breathe, trying to find some way to free him and finally hits a groin shot to knock Eugene down.] SS: Now that wasn't very sportsmanlike. Tragedy can't win this inside the ring so he's gotta cheat like crazy on the outside? AM: That's a lie Sam, and you know it. [Tragedy crawls back into the ring, dragging Eugene with him by the hair. The challenger executes a rolling suplex, followed by a suplex right away into an Orange Crush powerbomb!] DR: SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES! AM: One! Two! Thr- Austin broke it up! Damn him, damn you Austin! DR: The match is being thrown out by the referee! HERE COMES THE PROPHET! SS: No fair! [Tragedy and the Prophet manage to fend off Dynasty, as Austin and Robinson throw punches with the Dark Harlequins back and forth. The referee simply throws the match out as it takes "The Real Deal" Luke Steele and other security members to break things up between the teams. Dynasty is escorted out first, and the Dark Harleys leave to a loud pop from the slightly inebriated audience.] AM: I swear, those four guys are going to destroy each other. So far no top contender has been named to Robinson's Rampage Title or Austin's Cruiserweight Title for Gold Rush. SS: Yeah, but Lee's been slacking on the job. VP my ass. [Cut back to the locker room area. We see "Hot Stuff" Brian Von Braun decked out in his wrestling attire leaned against the wall. He's watching his tag team partner, Sylvester Landeau. Landeau is undergoing his usual stretching routine, clad in red air-brushed full-length trunks and black ankle supports. He seems to be peering quizzically at Brian, as if still surprised by his change-of-face.] BVB: So, whaddya think? Think it'll work? SL: It certainly can. Our opponents aren't exactly on the same level. Far more experienced in tag team matches, but completely incompatible with one another. Still, it really is hard to predict what will happen. The relationships between everyone in the Machines and the Fraternity Boys is complex... it is hard to tell WHAT we'll see tonight. BVB: It ain't perfect, that's why I wanted ta discuss it with ya. See what your input on the whole matter was gonna be. SL: There are a lot of ways to go about this. Your idea is valid, we will work out several ways to approach it and use as many as we need. BVB: [nodding] I did like ya suggested though. I've been watchin' the tapes for the past week or so. Been tryin' ta learn much 'bout 'em as I can. SL: Yes. Wong just isn't the competitor McKenzie is, I believe. He has more training, but less heart and fortitude. He is certainly the weak link, and should be exploited. McKenzie certainly won't be motivated to help him, either. BVB: Listen ta the man, boys. There's a difference between y'all an' us. Y'all don't like each other. It's been that way for a long time. Us? [BVB points to Landeau and then himself.] BVB: It was only a matter of time 'fore Sly an' I got onto the same page. Took some proddin' from 'im, but he opened my eyes plain as day. Trust me, kiddies, the Rocket City Badboy's gonna be walkin' into the ring ready for the two of ya. Y'all won't know what to expect. Regardless? Everyone's in for the shock of their lives. Ya dig? SL: If you don't "dig", you'd better start. For tonight will be a war, and you have no trench to take cover in, as you suffer the full brunt of our Redemption... [Von Braun heads off, to the staging area. Landeau is caught, after seeing that he's off-camera, with an expression of relief, apparently pleased that Von Braun has been so receptive lately. We cut back to ringside.] DR: In our next match of the night, Paul Wong of the Machines and Brian McKenzie of the Fraternity Boys are going to team up to face Sylvester Landeau and "Hot Stuff" Brian Von Braun. SS: Like hell they are. AM: That's pretty much what President Reed found out when she invited them to her office and told them the plan. [The camera opens in a familiar spot. The inner sanctum. The holy place. The main office of the UWF President. The camera pans over the scene, showing us the familiar oak desk, and behind her, the panoramic Toronto skyline. Yes, her. UWF President Sarah Reed looks over some paperwork. As she signs a contract, a voice comes in over the intercom.] Voice: Miss Reed? SR: Yes. Voice: Paul Wong of the Machines is here to see you. SR: Send him in. [The door opens, and in walks the massive Paul Wong. The grey fedora rests on his head, but missing are the trademark Ray-Bans. Wong sits in the seat offered to him by Miss Reed.] SR: Thank you for coming. PW: No problem. Simon sends his regards. SR: Where IS Mr. O'Neal? I asked him here earlier this week to discuss his suspension... PW: Well, since he's suspended, he and Jessica are in Sweden judging a bikini contest. And speaking of the suspension, how's the cameraman? SR: He's still in the hospital, thanks to your bastard partner. PW: It was an acc... [He's interrupted the intercom again.] Voice: Miss Reed, Brian McKenzie of the Fraternity Boys is here to see you. SR: Good. Send him in too, please. [Silence.] Voice: Mr. Wong is still in there too, right? SR: Yes. Voice: And you... SR: I am quite aware of the situation. Please send Mr. McKenzie in. Voice: Very well. [The door...and in walks Brian McKenzie. He looks around the office...] BM: Niiiiiiice digs. [...and walks in, cracking open a bottle of Budweiser he's carrying in his hand on the way. He's clad in tan jeans and a blue turtleneck, along with his wire-rimmed glasses. McKenzie walks to the desk and sits down in the other seat, putting his feet up on the desk.] BM: Hiya, Miss Reed! Hey, Paul... how's your head? PW: Simon would have some smartass answer to your question, Brian. Then he'd start a fight. Since he's not here, we'll forget the smartass response. [Paul stands up.] PW: And move on to the part where I kick your ass. SR: Get back in your seat now! Or else you'll be joining your partners in suspension. [McKenzie has stood up too. As he hears those words, though, he stops.] SR: What? BM: Did I... SR: What? Do YOU have a hearing problem? Both of you, sit down! [Wong and McKenzie look at each other... staring daggers... before both men sit back down in their chairs.] SR: That's better. Now, I know the two of you are aware you have a match this week, where you will be tagging... BM: Yeah, and if you don't mind me saying so, YOU'RE the crackhead. SR: I beg your pardon? BM: Like I'm going to coexist with the homosexual brickhouse over here! You're lucky I don't kick his ass all over Toronto right now!* PW: You're lucky I'm respecting the lady's wishes, or I'd be giving you a face to face meeting with every piece of concrete I could find. [He turns to Sarah.] PW: But there is no way in hell I'm teaming with this sweater-wearing dork. I'd sooner... BM: Dork? Look, Wong, I... [Reed shoots to her feet.] SR: Enough! I would suspend you two idiots too if I could...but for some reason, people love you. You, Wong, pull in the young female demographic, and you too, McKenzie... [Who smirks.] SR: ...along with the young homosexual market. BM: WHAT? PW: You know, I always thought you and COB were a little too close... SR: No more comments! I've had to put up with both of your teams for far too long. Do you have any idea how much damage you two have done? [She holds up a THICK file.] SR: We've had to pay for car repairs... furniture repairs... the brawl you four had in the hotel lobby was a fortune. [She points to McKenzie.] And with just your drinking tab, we could have signed Casey James to a three year contract. BM: Look, Sarah... SR: No, don't look. I'm going to tell you two this right now, and I want you to take it back to that horn dog O'Neal and that drunken idiot O'Brien. At the PPV... that's it. You four will step into the ring and wrestle. You will do it in a match I haven't decided on yet. And it will be the LAST time for 6 months you four go NEAR each other. [Reed sits back down behind the desk.] BM: And what about SNR? What the hell am I supposed to do? PW: Die. BM: Blow me. PW: I see why you appeal to the young gay men... but no thanks... I have Gus' old flame to keep me busy. BM: Yeah, living off the Fraternity Boys' sloppy seconds... hell, Fatality banged O'Brien once upon... SR: Gentlemen... if you'd be silent for a moment, I can answer your questions about this upcoming Rampage. PW: So Rebecca is having Jessica's sloppy seconds? SR: DAMMIT! I said quiet! PW: Just make sure that this so-called 'final match' won't be stopped when we end up putting them in the hospital. SR: Believe me... I will make sure all four of your bloodlusts are satisfied. After that match, you won't even want to think about the other team. PW: So what's up this weekend? BM: Yeah... I want to know. [McKenzie takes a sip from his beer as Reed leans forward] SR: It's simple. During the match, you will work as a team. You will try to win. Because if you two turn on each other... you will both be suspended, without pay... ...and it will be backlisted to the last PPV. BM: What? [McKenzie shoots to his feet.] BM: That's not fair! You can't do that! PW: Ms. Reed... if you're going through with this, I might be having airline problems... SR: And I'm making sure you both show up for the match. The only excuse I'll accept is going to funeral, and even then it's conditional- it has to be your own. [Paul snorts, then looks at McKenzie with disgust.] PW: You're so goddamn lucky I need this job. BM: Nice choice of words... job... [McKenzie finishes his beer in a long pull.] BM: Let me get this right... we have to show up, and we have to coexist for this match, right? SR: Yes. BM: JUST this match? SR: Yes. BM: You know... that's fine by me. [And with those words, McKenzie spins in his chair and SMASHES the beet bottle across Wong's face! Wong falls backwards out of the chair... rolls back to his feet, chrges, and tackles McKenzie to the ground.] PW: Looks like you'll get out of this match after all! [Wong throttles McKenzie around the neck... until an eyepoke releases him. McKenzie gets back to his feet.] BM: Screw that... I'll wrestle. [McKenzie with a right hand.] BM: And I'll kick their ass. [And a left.] BM: And then yours. [And a right... caught by Wong!] SR: Stop! Stop! Or else I'll call... [Paul grabs Brian by the throat with his right hand... lifts him up with his left hand... and hoists him in the air. With a bellow, he slams McKenzie down onto Sarah's desk, scattering everyone on the desk- including both the telephone and intercom. Wong looks over at Sarah... and shrugs.] PW: You really shouldn't be surprised by th... OOF! [That OOF! is courtesy of McKenzie grabbing the keyboard off the desk and walloping Wong across the head, breaking the 1, Q, and " keys. McKenzie tries to follow it up by grabbing the monitor, and Sarah runs out of the room, screaming for security. Wong pulls McKenzie back, and the two begin fighting over the printer. [The camera fade as Wong rips the printer out of McKenzie's hands...] BM: Oh, [MEEP]... [...and smacks McKenzie across the face. Fade on McKenzie's blood flying from his mouth.] SS: Oh yeah, that team'll work. _____ _ _ _ _____ .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.| | | | | | __|.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. Saturday Night Rampage| | | | | | __|Saturday Night Rampage |_____|_____|__| TAG TEAM CONTEST: Sylvester Landeau & "Hot Stuff" Brian Von Braun versus Paul Wong & Brian McKenzie -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- Writer: Mike Beeby DH: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is a tag team contest! Introducing first... [The lights drop down, and the opening of the instrumental "Sirius" by The Alan Parsons Project starts up over the PA. The lights shift to a filtered blue, and the crowd buzzes in anticipation.] DH: From Richmond, Virginia, weighing in at two hundred and forty-three pounds... SSSSSSSSSSYYYLVEEEEESTEEEEEEEEEEER LAAAAAAAANDEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUU! [From the back strides Sylvester Landeau, a stern look of confidence etched on his striking visage. The crowd pops loudly for the esteemed veteran. Landeau heads to the ring at a smooth, graceful stride, his light black silk longcoat flowing behind him. Sylvester's sharp eyebrows, long hair, and forceful expression give him an air of nobility... and he reaches the ringside area, just as the music begins to hit a climax.] AM: Sylvester Landeau is a picture of exactly what's right with this industry. SS: Blah blah blah. [Landeau leaps nimbly onto the ring apron... his level of agility and dexterity evident in his fluid movements. He ascends the turnbuckles to acknowledge the crowd with an outstrecthed hand... his fingers form a symbol, with his thumb, index, and middle fingers meeting, his pinky down, and his ring finger outstretched. Landeau steps down from the top rope, and sheds his longcoat, thus leaving him clad in only his full-length tights, airbrushed in many shades of the color blue, creating a wispy cloud effect. Ankle supports are all that adorn his feet. Landeau circles the ring, as his theme music ends.] DH: And his partner! [Stuck Mojo's "Southern Pride" comes over the PA system as the crowd starts to boo. "Hot Stuff" Brian Von Braun emerges from the entrance portal and stops at the top of the aisle. Brian's ring attire consists of bi-colored, long lycra tights. The outer portion of the tights is black. It starts at the waist and runs down the legs. The inner portion is green, mainly being the groin and rear portion. The rear reads "Hot Stuff" across it in black. Brian also sports kneepads with the pad portion being green and the rest being black. He also wears black boots with a green stripe running up the back of each boot. He also sports black elbowpads and black wrist tape. A black, open shirt, with green bands around the sleeve openings, completes the attire.] RA: Standing five feet, nine inches tall and weighing in at two-hundred and fifteen pounds. He hails from Huntsville, Alabama. Here is... "HOT STUFF" BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIAN VOOOOOOOOOON BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAUN! [Brian Von Braun walks down the ramp to ringside, surprisingly civil to the fans tonight. He doesn't try to jaw at them or give them a reason to boo, instead he simply walks looking straight ahead at the ring and at his partner. After a few steps, he raises both arms, fists clenched, into the air. He continues down the aisle and gets to the ringside area. He uses the steps to get to the ring apron and then steps into the ring between the top and middle rope. He moves to one turnbuckle and climbs to the second one and raises both arms in the air.] # I've got that southern pride # # I've got my southern pride # # Share my southern pride; let it shine # # I've got my southern pride, oh # # I've got my southern pride, oh yeah # # Share my southern pride; let it shine # [Brian Von Braun steps off the turnbuckle and turns in mid-air, both arms still raised in the air. He lowers his arms and takes off his shirt, tossing it to the ringside attendant. He gives a chesire-like grin to everyone who's looking at him. His music cuts off.] AM: Well, it looks like Von Braun is on his best behavior tonight. DR: Then that's bad news for Paul Wong and Brian McKenzie. In the past Landeau and Von Braun have been a formidable team, if they're actually on the same page that makes them twice as dangerous. [Up on the Unitron screen, an image appears, an image that sends fear into the hearts of normal people and religious right members everywhere. Yep, it's Jessie and James, Pokemon's Team Rocket.] Jessie: Prepare for trouble! James: And make it double... ["Yeeeeeeeeah!" Da-DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN... "KICK IT!" "Fight For Your Right" by the Beastie Boys kicks in full force as the fans all leap to their feet, especially the drunken mass of humanity known as the Greeks.] DH: And their opponents! First, from the University of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, weighing in at two hundred and nineteen pounds... "THE FIIIIIRST AMERICAAAAAAAAAAN BADAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASS" BRRRRRRIAAAAAAAAAAAAAN MCKEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENZIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIE! [From the back, to a loud face pop, walks one half of the Fraternity Boys, Brian McKenzie. He smiles widely as Greece cheers, walking down the aisle, slapping hands with the fans. McKenzie carries a pledge paddle down to the ring with him and slides it under the ropes before sliding in himself, and the First American Badass warms up as his partner makes his entrance.] DH: And his partner, from Denver, Colorado, weighing in at two hundred and seventy-six pounds, one half of the Machines... PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAULLLLLLLLL WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNG! [Henry Mancini's "Peter Gun" plays over the PA system to loud boos from the crowd, and Paul Wong enters to even louder boos. Dressed in his customary black and white outfit, grey fedora and black Ray Ban sunglasses, he wastes no time in getting to ringside and standing on the apron.] DR: This match came about as a punishment for McKenzie and Wong, because their regular partners caused the injury of a cameraman last week on the show. SS: Boy, Reed really is a whiny little thing isn't she? [McKenzie and Wong share words, or insults, rather, before the Frat Boy takes his spot in the ring. On the other team, Von Braun and Landeau talk things over before Brian walks to center ring to meet his opponent.] AM: Wow, Von Braun is actually offering a handshake to McKenzie. SS: Don't do it, it's a trick! AM: Ah-ha! SS: No, wait a minute! I mean, it's not a trick! DR: Doesn't seem to be a trick, they're actually shaking hands. [The battle of the Brians turns into a standard lock-up, to which BVB takes control with an armbar. Into an irish whip, Hot Stuff uses a single leg takedown into a grapevine on the knee. McKenzie grabs for the ropes, breaking the hold as Wong rolls his eyes on the apron. Von Braun allows McKenzie to rise, then catches him with a kneelift and finally a backslide pin attempt.] DR: One! Two! McKenzie kicks out, and Von Braun drags him to the middle of the ring by the leg. Elbow to the inside of the thigh. It's easy to see the strategy being employed here, work the leg to set up for his figure-four leglock. AM: Didn't work last week though. [BVB grabs McKenzie by the hair and pulls him up, before whipping him into the ropes again. This time McKenzie counters the leg trip with a hiptoss into a side slam, rolls to his feet and unleashes a knife-edge chop. Von Braun falls into the corner, but dodges a running splash. As he applies pressure with a headlock, BVB can be heard to say loudly: "Brian? Ya hear Wong say he was better than ya?" McKenzie shoves his way out of the headlock and spins around to glare at his partner for the evening, and falls prey to a kneebreaker and then a cobra clutch slam. Dazed on the canvas, BVB drags him to the corner and tags out to Landeau. Sylvester climbs up top and drops an elbow into McKenzie's heart, then hooks his leg again.] DR: One! Two! Brian puts his foot on the ropes to break it up. AM: Brian Von Braun may be on his best behaviour with his partner, but did you see him trying to cause trouble between his opponents? SS: The man is a thinker, don't hate him for it. [Landeau drags Brian to his feet and throws him into the ropes. McKenzie ducks a clothesline and comes back with a diving shoulderblock, which sends Sylvester crashing to the mat with a thud. Sylvester gets back up, and eats a forearm to the face, again flopping backwards. McKenzie hits a suplex, and Landeau arches his back in pain.] AM: McKenzie's flurry of offense really seems to be effective against Sylvester tonight. SS: Must have skipped his ritual pre-match Geritol tonight. DR: McKenzie with an armlock on Sylvester, another whip into the ropes. Fireman's carry, into a flapjack! And Landeau is laid out! AM: Cover! One! Two! Kickout! [Landeau gets to his feet as Brian yanks on him towards the corner. Wong slaps him on the shoulder to tag himself in, and after a quick glare McKenzie goes to the middle turnbuckle while the powerhouse Wong holds their opponent. Sylvester ducks out of the way though and Brian drops a forearm on Paul instead, staggering him! The asian powerlifter shoves McKenzie, but gets rolled up from behind into a schoolboy! 1 -- 2 -- Wong kicks out, forcefully. Landeau gets up and immediately drops a knee into the side of Paul's face, then bounces off the ropes and hits a running senton splash.] AM: Gee, Landeau's faring a lot better here against Wong than against McKenzie. DR: Sylvester peppers Paul with a punch to the head, off the ropes, flying forearm staggers the Machine! Hurricanrana rollover, one! Two! McKenzie drags Landeau off! SS: Here comes Hot Stuff! [Von Braun capitalizes on complete and total chaos to hit a missile dropkick from the top rope onto McKenzie, then rolls to his feet and yanks Wong up. A one handed scoop slam by Wong turns the tide, but Landeau nails him from behind with a faceslam into the canvas. The referee clears McKenzie and BVB from the ring to get just the legal men back in the match, and Landeau tries to cover. 1 -- Wong benchpresses Landeau off of him, and sits up. Sylvester makes the tag to Brian, who enters the ring and proceeds to dropkick the knee out from underneath Wong. A spinning leg crush further weakens the knee, as Wong crawls to the ropes with Brian dropping knees along the way.] DR: Well, at least one of these teams is having problems coexisting. SS: Yeah, but I think Landeau managed to wussify poor Brian Von Braun. [Wong walks to the corner and tags out to McKenzie with a stiff slap across the chest, and it's all the Frat Boy can do not to snap his partner's neck off the top rope. Instead he hits a sunset flip over Wong, into spinning headscissors on Brian! Pop! BVB gets back to his feet and motions McKenzie to go back in for a lock-up like earlier, but as he does BVB slides out to the floor, tapping his forehead and demonstrating to the crowd how calculating he is. McKenzie motions him in, but Von Braun takes his time climbing to the outside apron. McKenzie darts towards him, and Von Braun hits a sunset flip inside to a cradle.] DR: One! Two! No! McKenzie got out of it, and now Hot Stuff's headed for his corner. AM: Hey, he's actually discussing strategy with his partner. I'm amazed, normally it's just a game of one-upsmanship. SS: Stupid Landeau, infected Brian with his goody two shoes cooties or something. AM: Come again? [Brian McKenzie gets back up and goes for the corner, grabbing Von Braun by the head and dragging him out. BVB tries to hit a dragon screw legwhip out of it, but Brian knees him in the face first, then scoops him up.] AM: MINNIE DRIVER! SS: WHERE!?! DR: And McKenzie with... [Phone rings.] AM: What the...? [Sam Steeley pulls out a cell phone.] SS: Hello? Hey, Simon! How's the bikini contest? Really... [to Amy] Jessica won. [back to the phone] And you're accepting her 'bribe' now? Way to go, Simon! AM: I hate that man. SS: [still on the phone] Yeah, that match is happening now... I know, you're partner doesn't seem to happy... yeah? Hold on. [gets up, walks over to the corner, and hands Paul Wong the phone.] DR: What the hell is Sam doing? [Paul listens, nods, and hands the phone back to Sam. Sam saunters back to the announcer's desk.] AM: What was that about? [Paul Wong enters the ring.] SS: Simon came up with a way out of the match. [... and Wong shoves the referee down. Not a full clothesline, but enough to... _DING DING DING!_ ... disqualify Wong. Paul grins, turns around, and clotheslines McKenzie.] AM: He can't... SS: Yes, he can. The match is over. And he tries to win. He tried so hard, he got too excited and shoved the referee. [shakes his head.] Such a temper on that boy. [Commence with the brawling.] DH: Here are your winners... SSSSSSSYLLLLLLVESTERRRRRRR LAANDEAUUUUUUUU AAAAND "HOT STUUUUUUUUFF" BRIIIIIIIAN VOOOOOOOOONNNNNNN BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUNNN! [Wong assaults McKenzie with forearms, then lifts him up over his head with a gorilla press. He walks over to the ropes and delivers the Frat Boy unto the French announcer's table with a loud _CRACK_!] DR: Oh my god, Paul Wong threw McKenzie out of the ring, and through the table! AM: Landeau and Von Braun though! Landeau and Von Braun! [Paul spins around, and eats an enzuigiri kick to the back of the skull! BVB rolls back to his feet and grabs Wong, pulls him up and hooks him for a Northern Lights suplex. As Hot Stuff starts to execute the move, Landeau comes off the top rope with a flying axe kick, flipping Wong right into the move! Wong rolls to the floor, clutching his head as the crowd pops, and "Southern Pride" starts a second time. Sylvester nods towards his partner, mouthing the words "You're learning." BVB returns the nod and raises his partner's arm in victory. A loud pop follows as the triumphant tag team helps McKenzie to the back.] AM: I saw it with my own eyes and I still can't believe it. They're getting along! SS: Landeau is to blame for the wussification of young Brian Von Braun. Hot Stuff just became Not Stuff. AM: What does that even mean? SS: I don't have time to answer your questions. [Fade to the back, with "Moments Ago" displayed at the bottom. Moe Owens is shown walking backstage when "Alluring" Arielle Starr approaches him, a smile spread across her lovely face. Arielle wears a knee-length, forest green, Celine dress with spaghetti straps and matching pumps. Her honey blonde hair is fashioned in an array of delicate, shoulder-length ringlets, emeralds glittering around her slender neck.] MO: Hello, Arielle. AAS: Hi, Moe. Are you busy? MO: Well... I was in the middle of running a few errands for Erin. Why? AAS: [with a dismissive wave of her hand] Forget about her for a second. MO: [frowns] But… AAS: [places a finger on Moe's lips] Shhhh. We're not even going to worry about that diva wannabe. [she slips her arm in his] Besides, I have a few things that I wanted to talk about and I was hoping that you could help me. MO: Uh... Sure. I guess Erin can wait for a few moments. What's on your mind? [The duo walks along, arm in arm.] AAS: Well, I wanted to talk about this tag match that Stephanie has tonight. [shaking her head] I can't believe that they're forcing her to tag with Tigress against The Throbbing Mattress Kittens. Can you? [Before Moe can answer, Arielle continues.] AAS: Could this entire situation be any more of a trap? On one hand, Stephanie's got to worry about two perverts that are more interested in face sitting than front face locks. On the other hand, she's got to worry about a woman that has a history of stabbing her partners in the back. I'm sure that I'm not the only one that remembers how Tigress turned her back on Bliss not too long ago. Plus, it's no secret that there's no love lost between Stephanie and Tigress. You remember some of the stuff that they've said about each other, right, Moe? [Moe nods his agreement and begins to speak again before Arielle interrupts him.] AAS: Exactly! That's why I'm here. I want to make sure that Stephanie gets a fair shake and that neither Tigress or TMK try anything. Considering my history with those three, I am more than aware of the tactics that they employ. It was just a few weeks ago that Tigress was cheating me out of a victory and my jaw is just now healing from the attack with that stick of hers. It also wasn't long ago that Tara Smith and I were taking on TMK for their harassing tactics. To say that I dislike the three of them would be a gross understatement. I have grown to loathe those women! MO: [opens his mouth to speak] AAS: So, if they try anything foolish, I won't hesitate to interject. I'm going to make sure that Stephanie stays strong and healthy so that she can take that belt away from Tigress at Gold Rush! [smiles] If I have my way, The Sun Belt Angels won't just have the tag titles but we'll have the women's championship, as well. [checks her watch] Moe, I've taken enough of your time. I had better go and prepare for Stephanie's match. If I'm lucky, I may get to see Satin Sheets beat some sense into Erin too. [She gives him a quick peck on the cheek] See you later and thanks so much for talking with me. I'll really take what you said into consideration. MO: [confused] Uh... sure... Bye, Arielle. [After giving him a quick wink, Arielle turns on her heels, Moe shaking his head. Cut to another scene, also with "Moments Ago" at the bottom. "Tornado" Tara Smith is walking down a halway toward a locker room. She is wearing a black t-shirt and blue jeans and has a gray gym bag flung over her shoulder. As she is walking, she is stopped by Moe Owens.] TTS: Hi Moe! How are you? MO: Fine, thanks. Mind if I ask you a few questions? TTS: Go ahead, Moe. MO: Tonight, your friend Stephanie Harper has to team with Tigress against the Throbbing Mattress Kittens. How do you feel about that match up? TTS: I have mixed feelings. I can't say I like the idea of Stephanie teaming with Tigress, especially with the two of them having to face each other in the ring soon. I told Stephanie that she needs to keep a close watch on Tigress during their match. MO: You think Tigress will attack Stephanie at some point? TTS: It's a strong possibility. It's no secret that Steph wants the women's title which Tigress holds right now. Tigress has said that she doesn't care about the title, but I don't think Tigress is the type of person who would just let Stephanie defeat her. MO: It's clear that your friends Arielle and Stephanie don't like Tigress. Would you say that you dislike her? TTS: No. I first met Tigress when we teamed together at Wrestlebowl. Tigress and I are not friends, but I had the impression we had some sort of understanding. She's a fierce competitor and I can respect that. She has her own way of doing things and I can respect that as well. Also, she does not rely on underlings to do her dirty work for her. Do I like what she tried to do to Arielle? No. Do I like the fact that she's used the UWF Women's Championship belt as a chewing toy for her pet? No. However, I respect that she's been a fighting champion. MO: I thought you'd be indignant about her treatment of the belt. TTS: I don't like her treatment of the belt, but in the end, it's being champion, not possessing a belt, that is the important thing. Erin McCoys never let an animal chew the belt when she had it, but Erin's actions as champion disgraced the title more than that. She may have held the belt as a prize accessory, but by never defending the title until forced, she devalued the title. It's far easier to replace a chewed up belt than it is to restore value to a title. MO: Speaking of titles, when are you and Arielle going to defend your women's tag team titles? TTS: As soon as we're challenged. I'd like nothing better than to have some title defenses here. There's the Bod Squad, Satin and Melody, and our my old friends, the TMK. Hopefully one of them will decide to challenge us for our belts. If that doesn't happen, then Arielle and I may just have to challenge one of them. MO: Any chance you'll go after the women's belt? TTS: [laughs] Probably so. It's been awhile since I had that belt and I think I did a good job of restoring value to it after Erin devalued it. At this point, I have other concerns, but I'd love to be women's champ for the second time. MO: Thank you for your time Tara. TTS: Anytime, Moe. [Fade back to the announcers.] DR: We know Stephanie Harper has Sleek and Seductive watching her back, now let's go to the ring. _____ _ _ _ _____ .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.| | | | | | __|.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. Saturday Night Rampage| | | | | | __|Saturday Night Rampage |_____|_____|__| -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- Writer: El Presidente del Campeonato Bastardo Poderoso DH: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is a tag team contest. Introducing first... ["Invincible" by Pat Benetar begins to play over the loud speakers of the stadium signaling the entrance of "Superstar" Stephanie Harper. When Stephanie emerges from the entranceway, a Jumbotron video featuring clips of Stephanie from various matches plays, interspersed by a logo of the map of Texas, the flag of Texas inside it, and the word "Superstar" underneath in black lettering. Stephanie stands at the top of the rampway, pauses for a moment to look to the crowd, then raises her left fist up slightly in front of her. She then walks to the ring as gold fountains on either side of the ramp shoot straight into the air. Harper hits the ring, awaiting her tag team partner.] DH: Hailing from El Paso, Texas, here is.... "SUPERSTAR" STEPHANIE HARPER! DR: Think she has a score to settle with the TMK? AM: I think things between the TMK and Harper have blown over. But knowing the TMK, they'll probably start it all over again. SS: I hear they give repeat performances. DH: And her tag team parnter... [The opening drum beat to "Rocket Queen" by Guns N'Roses starts up, replacing Benetar. Red and gold strobe lights begin to blink around the entrance as spotlights of the same color survey the crowd. Tigress appears in the crowd and quickly makes her way to the ring. She hops over the guardrail and slides into the ring. She exchanges glances with Harper and together, they wait for their opponents.] DH: And her tag team partner, hailing from Durham, North Carolina, here is the UWF World Women's Champion.... TIGRESS! DR: How well do you think these two will work as a team? AM: Certainly two distinct styles. But I'm sure they can over look that, especialy against the TMK. Sam, what do you... SS: [Singing] # I feel like kitten tonight, kitten tonight# AM: I don't know why I bother to ask. [One Guns N'Roses song replaces another as "Get in the Ring" begins to play. The crowd starts into chants of "TMK! TMK! TMK! and Sam continues to sing his jingle. No real fancy intro, just a tag team with a cult following and their manager. First from the entrance comes "Superfly" Susan Davis dressed in tight black leather and Allison Ottey in a business style skirt and button up business jacket. Its a bit less conservative that what she usually wears but its nothing to get worked up about. Behind these two is the other Kitten, "Primetime" Jenifer Hardi. She doesn't look especialy happy to be here but she looks at least focused.] DH: And their opponents, hailing from Dallas, TX, they are accompanied to ringside by their Allison Ottey. Here are "Primetime" Jennifer Hardi and "Superfly" Susan Davis... THE THROBBING MATTRESS KITTENS! DR: Is it just me or are the Kittens not getting along like they used to? SS: Jenn must not be putting out anymore. She needs a good... [SLAP!] AM: Don't go there. SS: Oh come on! It's the TMK! [With the Kittens finally at ringside, the bell rings signaling the beginning of the match. Tigress and Harper hold a short discussion on who should start and soon after, they reach the agreement that Harper will start. The Throbbing Mattress Kittens however, are nearly coming to blows on who should start. Normaly, you would think that'd be a good thing but after last weeks performance, its understandable that Hardi would want to start.] DR: Looks like the Kittens are having a hard time deciding who gets to face off against Stephanie Harper. AM: You'd think this would be an easy decision. SS: Oh please. Everything about the TMK is easy. AM: Can't argue with that. [Finally, with the assistance of Allison Ottey, the Kittens decide on who would start the match. Jennifer Hardi enters the ring and prepares to square off with Harper. Both wrestlers circle around, each looking for an opening to attack. The inch closer to the other, waiting for the other to strike, until they finally lock up in the middle of the ring. Davis is already screaming for a tag but Hardi knowing full well what she wants to do, ignores her.] DR: Hardi has come a long way since Ottey started managing them. AM: You can credit Tara Smith for that. DR: But Ottey doesn't exactly look like the same person she was when she started. SS: Maybe its like that movie with Judge Rheinhold and that Savage kid, "Vice Versa". DR & AM: ... SS: What? [Harper backs Hardi back into a corner where the referee is very quick to break the two apart. Harper stands ready for a cheap shot but oddly enough, Hardi doesn't take one. Harper gets back to cetner ringwhere she locks up with Hardi again. They jury for control until Hardi slides Harper into a side headlock. She wrenches the hold several times until Harper lifts Hardi into a fall away slam. She makes the early cover but only gets the one. Hardi hops back to her feet and the two women tangle once again. Harper whips Hardi to the ropes and goes for the clothesline on the rebound. Hardi ducks and stops herself fromgoing for the next set of ropes. Harper quickly turns around to hiptoss Hardi to the mat. "Primetime" jumps up and takes "Superstar" down with a armdrag. Harper gets to her feet and the two wrestlers lock up for a fourth time.] SS: Is that really the fourth time? AM: I don't know. I lost count. SS: Wait a minute! That's your job! DR: No, that's my job. SS: Then what's your job? To sit there and look pretty? AM: Partially. [Hardi and Harper continue their exchanges and takedowns. The crowd is excited for the wrestling action but at the same time they're very disappointed in the shere lack of "action". And so was Davis, who was screaming to get in the ring. Tigress was in her corner calling for a tag, and from the looks in her eyes, she definitly had something planned.] SS: Thats a good look. I like that kind of look. AM: You like any look you can get. Especialy after lots of alcohol. SS: Can't blame me for that. AM: But I can certainly blame you for other things. [Harper and Hardi reached a stalemate in their efforts to keep the other down. Both were trying to take the other down, but much of it was met with reversals. Again Stephanie and Jennifer circled around the ring, both looking for an opening. Harper however chose to tag to her partner, Tigress. Davis's screams for a tag grow louder than ever but Hardi would still have no part of it.] AM: What is she trying to prove by not tagging out? Does she want to be taken seriously? SS: Yeah, like that would happen. She's a freakin' TMK. DR: Well Davis has proven herself lately to be a liability. Primetime likely sees her as such. [Tigress entered the ring and much like her tag team partner, she too circled up with Hardi. They both waited the other out until they finally came together at eachother mid ring. Tied up colar to eblow, Hardi and Tigress were very agressive in their attempts at control. The crowd was excited at this point, but get even happier as Tigress pulls Hardi forward, her hands on Primetime's face and lays down one hell of a kiss.] SS: YES! YES! YES! AM: Anybody have a firehose? [Tigress holds the kiss for a longtime and thanks to our camera crew, we can see that yes, there is tongue. Hardi doesn't struggle and slowly she raises her hands to Tigress' waist. The crowd gets more excited. Hardi wraps her arms around Tigress... ...and executes a belly to belly suplex.] AM: Tigress is using the TMK's own mindgames against them. DR: But Hardi isn't the one she should be using them against. SS: Susan is so... jiggly. [Indeed. Seeing that Hardi had no intentions of either using or being used by the mindgames, Tigress quickly rethinks her strategy. Seeing a bouncy leather clad Kitten in the corner, however, makes the thought process very quick.] AM: Davis just won't shut up about getting in the ring. SS: I wouldn't mind getting in the ring with Tigress. AM: You do realize she'd castrate you. SS: What'd you say Amy? I was watching Susan's Kittens bounce. [SLAP!] DR: Hardi and Tigress lock it up again! [Tigress' mind still seemed to be set on the mind game factor but she wanted a target that would be one hundred times more suseptable to them. And that target was only a few feet away. As Jennifer Hardi is trying to pull Tigress down into sleeper hold, Tigress trips Hardi up with a kick to the knee. Tigress looks over to the TMK corner and "shakes her moneymakers" so to speak. The reaction is immediate. Allison Ottey looks on in bewilderment. Stephanie Harper looks on in disgust. And Susan Davis looks on like a Frat Boy watching porn.] AM: Or Sam Steeley. SS: I soooo love this match! [Tigress pulls Hardi to her feet and Irish whips her to the TMK corner. Hardi braces for the impact, catching herself on the turnbuckle. But before she can turn around and advance on Tigress again, Davis tags herself in and makes a B-line straight for the women's champion.] DR: Well, Hardi just got screwed out of this match. AM: And by Susan Davis. That's not surprising. [Jennifer Hardi tries to get back into the match, but Harper comes from the corner and the two start fighting once again. As the ref tries to get those two to their corners, Tigress gives Davis a seductive look, putting Superfly in an almost zombie like state.] AM: Kind of like Sam. Thats not surprising. [The referee gets Harper to her corner, as he does with Hardi. Davis tries to grab at Tigress, but the seductress moves just out of reach. The match becomes more like a game of "Catch Me if You Can", putting a reasonable amount of embarassment on Hardi and a reasonable amount of resentment on Harper. Davis dives at Tigress again. The Women's Champion sidesteps and backhands Davis in the back. Davis falls against the ropes and Tigress hits her with palm strikes to Davis's breats. Trust me that kind of thing hurts. Davis however, was getting turned on by it. And when Tigress hit a hard side kick to the front of the TMKers pelvis, that hurt too. But Davis enjoyed that just as much. Tigress looked as if this would be too easy.] AM: "Easy" and "TMK". I don't think we have to go there. SS: I wish I could. AM: I'm sure you would. SS: You said "wood". Teehee! DR: Tigress sends Davis to the corner! She follows up with a... no. She stops just short of hitting a cross body splash. [Cornering Davis, Tigress got real close. But rather than drop some chest slaps or a punch Davis in the jaw, Tigress simply showed affection. Tigress first stroked Susan's face and rubbed her body next to Superfly's. It was a very tender moment and Davis was in the throws of passion... ...until Tigress gave her the mandible claw and then monkey flipped her out of the corner.] SS: DON'T PLAY WITH OUR EMOTIONS! PLAY WITH EACH OTHER! [SLAP!] SS: Damnit woman! How many times are you going to slap me? AM: As many times as needed. SS: I despise you. AM: Better than you drooling over me. [As Harper is calling to be tagged back in, anxious to fight in the match, Tigress simply carries on with her "mind gaming" of Susan Davis, who is by all accounts enjoying it thoroughly. Hardi on the other hand has her face in her hands, frustrated and dismayed by the actions of her tag team partner. Allison Ottey yells from the outside, calling for Susan to snap out of it. Hardi rolls her eyes and tells Allison that if she serisouly thinks Susan is going to willingly give this up, then she's dumber than Steeley.] SS: HEY! [Hardi tries one more time to come into the ring, seeing how her tag partner is willingly giving into the temptations of the Tigress. Seeing the offensive, Harper bursts through the ring ropes and delivers a handy Fallen Star to Primetime. Primetime's ratings crash so to speak and Jennifer rolls out of the ring in pain. Stephanie heads to the ropes and looks outside the ring to survey the damage. She then turns around to see something that makes her gasp.] DR: Tigress goes for the pin in... in... in... SS: They call that the "Churning of the Cream" Kama Sutra position. AM & DR: ... SS: What? Thats what they call it! [As a matter of description, with Davis on her back, Tigress grabs the Kitten's legs and pushes them forward to where the knees are touching the shoulders, with Tigress literaly sitting on the back of Davis' thighs. And yes folks, Tigress is lewdly grabbing Susan's breasts.] AM: That's disgusting! SS: I don't think Susan is going to kick out of that pin position. DR: What makes you say that? SS: Oh, I'd say its the "O" face she's got going. [Indeed, the referee slaps the mat three times, awarding the win to the team of Tigress and Harper. Tigress gets up off of Davis and looks at her work. Davis simply rolls into a fetal position, smiling like the deviant she is.] DH: The winners of this match... TIGRESS AND STEPHANIE HARPER! DR: Easy win against the TMK. AM: Again, two words that go extremely well together. DR: Harper doesn't look to happy with the way they won, but they won at least. [Once the initial shock of the method of winning wears off, Stephanie Harper offers her hand in congratulations to Tigress. Tigress looks at the outstretched hand and offers something of her own... ...a flat footed kick to Harper's mouth.] DR: GOOD GOD! Tigress shut flattened Harper with a kick to the face! And it drew blood! Good God! It drew blood! SS: And so the world turns. One gets sexed up. The other gets a foot to the face. Isn't this what life is about? AM: I would hope not. SS: Thats just because you're not getting any. [SLAP!] DR: And Tigress is simply walking away! How cold can she be? [Cold enough, to head up the aisle, leaving her now former tag team partner down in the ring, propped up on an elbow. Harper raises a hand to her mouth and pulls it away, to find blood. Once Tigress disappears, Harper looks at the Kittens with disgust and exits the ring. She starts to head up the ramp herself. But her day is certainly not over.] DR: What the... AM: SOMEONE JUST JUMPED HER OUT OF THE CROWD! DR: HARPER JUST GOT SPRAYED IN THE FACE WITH MIST! [The masked figure jumps out of the crowd and drops Harper to the floor with a hard drop-step toehold, and applies a surfboard! The crowd boos viciously as Harper is left at the mercy of this strange assailant, and it's not until "Alluring" Arielle Starr and "Tornado" Tara Smith comes bursting out of the locker rooms to rescue their friend does the mystery person release Harper.] SS: Somebody must not like her. AM: Who was it? Did you see who it was? DR: I didn't get a good look at him. And security has arrived just a bit too late. He's long gone. They're attending to Harper at least. [As Arielle and Tara attempt to help their friend Stephanie Harper away to be attended to, Jennifer Hardi drags Susan Davis from the ring, and starts yelling at the goofy grinned woman. Davis looks around in a daze, ignoring her partner's extremely loud words. When Hardi realizes that its a lost cause, she looks at Ottey and yells something along the lines of "You're supposed to fix this! Do your [MEEP]damn job!"] AM: Looks like theres even more trouble in Kittenland. SS: Looks like they need good ol' Sherriff Sam Steeley to console them in their time of need. Yep. Yep. Yep. AM: Please. Go play with your vacuum cleaner deputy. [Hardi walks away from the ring as Ottey puts Davis' arm around her shoulder and helps the blissed out Kitten to the back.] SS: I'll say one more thing and that's it. AM: Here it comes. DR: What's that, Sam? SS: Best... match... _EVER_. [Fade to black.] [The camera fades in to see a locker room- Tradition's locker room, by the high quality of the furnitre and the Tradition merchandise lying around. Standing in the room is the Lady in Red and "Crimson" Joe Reed. Reed is stretching, and Red is leaning against the wall. She's wearing a frown.] LiR: I don't like this. CJR: I don't, either, but we're forced to work together. LiR: But meet them now? Here? CJR: Call it a truce- a temporary one. I... [He's interrupted by a knock on the door. Reed goes over and opens it up, revealing... ..."Agony" Michael Augustine leaning against the door frame. Augustine wears his standard attire; black jeans, black boots, black leather jacket, and a all black t-shirt. But he's sporting something new this week...a black eye, taken in the attack by "Sudden Death" Shane Matthews. Standing next to Augustine, Allison Ivey stands, hands on her hips, eyes narrow, clad in blue jeans and a tight white t-shirt. She peers into the room and notices the Lady in Red staring back.] AI: Okay... why in the hell did you ask us over here, Red? If it's an ambush, you and your Tradition idiots are really gonna regret it. [Augustine just stares at Reed, never taking his eyes off of him as he continues to lean on the door frame.] LiR: Believe me, if it was an ambush, you'd already be on the ground, little girl. And neither Rick nor Youth wants either one of you in this room. For that matter, neither do I. [She looks over at Reed, who's matching Augustine's stare.] CJR: It's simple. Neither one of us likes each other, and I have no problem going one more round with you. Just not tonight. You want Matthews, and I'll be glad to step aside and let you murder him. Just give me Osbourne. [Reed casually picks up a chair... and SLAMS it against a wall. Reed's stare is turning into a look of fury that's not normally seen on the stoic veteran.] CJR: I want that son of a bitch- I want him hurting, and I want it tonight. [Augustine watches the outburst... and begins laughing, a low, deep chuckle devoid of humor.] MA: Man, someone's in a pissy mood... getting the PMS your Amazon wife doesn't? [Augustine steps in the room, Allison following behind him] MA: You're really worked up, Joe. I don't think I've ever [BLEEP]in' seen you so pissed off before in my life. So you want Osborne? Why? Why should I let you have him? He's YOUR enemy" [Augustine points to his forehead.] MA: Do you remember him throwing me out a window leading up to Wrestlebowl? I don't [BLEEP]in' like him either. Maybe I want to stomp him into paste... ...YOU gonna try to stop me, old man? [Reed stares at Augustine with a look of fury... the stops... takes a step back... and laughs.] CJR: Ya know, Mikey... you think you're a mean badass. And hell... you are a mean badass. I'll give you that. But Osbourne... that's a whole new level. [Reed points to his eyebrow, where the scar is still visible.] CJR: He threw you out a window? Big deal- he does that to his friends. As much of a badass as you are... you ain't ever tried to have my forehead as an appetizer. If you want him... I may just let you have him. Ya know why? Because I think that when you two collide, he's the one that's going to walk away... and he'll be that much easier to take out for good. [Reed walks up and stands eye to eye with Augustine.] CJR: So it's your call. You can either step aside and let me take care of Osbourne now... or you can step up to the plate now and battle it out with him first. Either way, it doesn't matter, because I WILL finish that freak. My only request... when I do so, don't get in my way. I'm a little crotchety, and you don't want to see me when I get upset. MA: Okay, okay... fair enough. You want Osborne so bad, you can have him. Just don't [BLEEP]in' expect me to dytand there. If he hits me I WILL hit him back. If he bites me, I'll make him wish he was never born. I ain't afraid of the freak... ...like YOU apparently are. [Augustine smirks at the comment.] CJR: Scared? [Reed takes a step back, a half-smile on his face.] CJR: You think I'm scared? [Reed takes another step back. The Lady in Red starts to look really worried.] CJR: I'm not scared. I just finally realized something. [He reaches over, and pulls out a tupperware dish from his locker. He takes a step forward towards Augustine.] CJR: To beat a true psycho... [Another step forward. Reed is back in Augustine's face.] CJR: You have to BECOME a psycho. [He pops open the tupperware container and holds it under Augustine's nose.] CJR: Want a bite? [Augustine looks into the tupperware container...and it's HIS turn to take a step back.] MA: What the [BLEEP] is THAT? [Ivey cranes her neck to take a look inside...] AI: You KEPT that? [Reed just starts laughing. The Lady in Red turns pale, and retreats to a corner. The camera fades into the graphics.] _______ __ __ | __|.---.-.| |_.--.--.----.--| |.---.-.--.--. |__ || _ || _| | | _| _ || _ | | | |_______||___._||____|_____|__| |_____||___._|___ | |_____| _______ __ __ __ | | |__|.-----.| |--.| |_ | | || _ || || _| |__|____|__||___ ||__|__||____| |_____| ________ __ __ ____ | ___ \ ______ | \ / || _ \ ______ _____ _____ \ \__| \ / ___ || \/ || | \ \ / ___ | / ___ \ | ___| \ __ // /___| || |\ /| || |_/ // /___| | / / /_/ | |_ \ \ \ \ \ ___ || | \/ |_|| __/ \ ___ || | ___ | _| \_\ \ \ \ \ | ||_| | | \ \ | || | |_ || |_______ \_\ \_\ |_| |_| \_\ |_| \ \___| ||_________\ \_____/ 03-17-2001 Hour Two [Fade back into Morton Stadium, as "Selling Your Soul" by Black Sabbath begins to play over the PA system, sending the crowd into an instant fit of booes. Under the Unitron comes the wheelchair bound vice president of the cruiserweight division, Kyle Lee. And at his side, are several law enfourcement officers.] DR: Welcome back fans, we've been joined here by the UWF's Cruiserweight Vice-President and a man who seems to be hated by quite a lot of people. KL: You see these men? They're an armed escort. Since no one in this or any other organization can guarnatee my safty, if've gone out and got somebody who could. Somebody apparently thinks its [BLEEP]ing funny to lock me in a trunk and drive me out into the desert. What theh ell were you expecting? For me to give in and quit? Good [BLEEP]ing chance of that happening. I was made a laughing stock, more so than usual. Perhaps Prophet was expecting me to have some heat induced vision. Trying not to die, once does see things. And I came to a realization about the people who call me their Vice-President. What we have are four men who think their God's gift to God himself. Tragedy still goes on and on about his reign as Undisputed and Undefeated Cruiswerweight Champion. Thats laughable, if he was truly undefeated, he'd still have the damn title. And Austin, he thinks he _IS_ the cruiserweight division. He can't even beat Tragedy. And then you've got Prophet and Robinson, two ingrates to wouldn't be able to get themselves out of a paper bag even if they tried. If this is the state of the cruiserweight division so be it. Hell, Neptune has enough smarts to hate all of us. He can feel free to hate me. I encourage it. The asses on the internet do. So, if these so called "wrestlers" decide that they want some competition, then fine, I'll give it to them. They all think that they're the top in the division jsut because they've got a title that says so. Austin with the cruiser belt. Tragedy with the Joint belt. Robinson with the Rampage and Prophet with that stupid ass UWF-E Cruiser belt. What you have is four men with four titles and four massive egos. What we need is consolidation and humility. So at Gold Rush, the UWF Cruiser division is going to have a good kick in the [BLEEP]damn nuts. It will be "Four Falls for Four Titles Match" with Austin, Tragedy, Robinson and Prophet beating the [BLEEP] out of each other for the Rampage, Cruiser, Joint and UWF-E belts. If somebody gets injured, so be it. I'd actually prefer it to having to be in charge of these glorified, half-evolved spider monkeys. Enjoy your time at the "top" while it lasts gentlemen. Somebody is leaving with their head between their legs. ["Selling Your Soul" begins again and the law enforcement escort leads Lee to the back.] AM: What a match for Gold Rush! Four wrestlers, four titles, and four falls in this match. Kyle Lee is an extremely bitter man, and that's how he's set out to punish some of the people making his life a living hell. SS: You still have a soft spot for him don't you Red? AM: Not a chance in hell. [Fade in to a pub in Dublin. Team Canada is celebrating their victory at the last SNR. Trevor "The Hammer" Hextall, Bob "Bone Breaker" Jablonski and Coach Grapes Gilmour are drinking pints of Guinness and smiling.] Hextall: Grapes, I told ya not ta doubt us and that we always come through! Grapes: [laughing] I think it's just because I motivated ya last week. Jablonski: [laughing] Whatever. Hell not only did we get redemption against Von Braun and Landeau, but we took down Erin's toys and the media's darlings, the Keening Brothers. Hextall: Beatin' all those teams felt really good! Now, we've got a shot at the World Tag Team Titles, and ya know what that means? Jablonski: It means we get ta face our old friends, the Harlequins! Hextall: This is the match we've been waitin' for. People are still talkin' about our previous battles with the Harleys over the Great Northern Tag Belts, and Suicide Blondes, they're not the North American tag belts, they're the Great Northern Tag belts! Get the name right! Anyway, ever since the Harleys won the World belts, people have been comin' up ta us askin' when we're gonna face Chaos and Terror again. Jablonski: It's because no one can forget our previous battles. They saw us fight over the Great Northern belts and wanted us ta fight like that over the World Tag Team belts. They wanna see the two most viscious, brutal, and extreme tag teams on the planet pull out all the stops for the top prize in tag team wrestlin', and they're gonna get ta see it! Hextall: Here's where we could tell Chaos and Terror just what it means ta step in the ring and face us as opponents, but they already know. They know exactly what a match with Team Canada means, and if I know anything about them, they're lookin' foreward ta this match as much as we are! Grapes: You guys know what ya need ta do ta beat the Harleys, right? Jablonski: Yep, and they know what they need ta do against us. Frankly [rubbing his hands together] I can't wait! Grapes: [grinning] It should be a fun one! [All three men take a swig of Guinness and grin as the camera fades. The screen goes dark for a moment and then dissolves to an exterior shot of a rugged coastline underneath a partially cloudy sky. In the bottom of the screen, text appears reading: "PRE-RECORDED EARLIER TODAY". The sound of seagulls can be heard intermixed with the boom of the crashing surf as two figures walk into view. One is the squat, powerful figure of "Screaming Drillbit" Jason Keening while the other is the slender, athletic form of his older brother, "Banshee" Michael Keening. Both members of The Ghost Dancers have grim expressions on their faces but it is Jason who first turns to face the camera.] JK: Ordinarily, we'd be pleased as hell to be back in Ireland. A lot of the blood that runs through our veins is Native American but the Keening name actually originates here in County Donegal. [Michael steps forward, an angry scowl distorting his features.] MK: Problem is, after that crap that went down in the Congo, neither Jase nor I are exactly happy campers right now! JK: Bad enough Team Canada has to use hockey sticks to steal a victory they couldn't earn on their own merits... MK: Hell, we already kicked their asses once back in Warsaw so if those talentless hacks think they can put one over us with pathetic cheapshots, they're sadly mistaken!! JK: But this stupidity with those Japanese morons is going to stop! And right now! MK: Blue Moose Party are another pair of brain-dead pukes who are gonna get their asses kicked! [The Keening brothers stand side by side, facing the camera while the sound of the surf booms in the distance behind them.] JK: People think because we play by the rules that my brother and I are soft... weak... [The man once known in Japan as "The Banshee" grins with a menacing leer.] MK: Take note, pukewads... `cuz a very painful lesson is about to be learned... [Jason angrily jabs a finger into the camera's lens.] JK: ...YOUR UGLY HEADS ARE GONNA GET DRILLED! [And with that, the two brothers step out of view as the camera zooms in on a flock of gulls wheeling above the rocky cliffs for a moment before the scene dissolves to black. The camera cuts outside the arena... ...and to a pissed off Brian McKenzie. "The First American Badass" holds an icepack to the back of his head as he stares into the camera, shaking with rage. He's still dressed in his wrestling attire, complete with sweaty matted hair and wire-rimmed glasses.] BM: Wong... damn you, Paul Wong! You cost us our match, you stupid idiot! Not that I give a damn, since I was planning on costing us our match... but you didn't have to knock out the [MEEP]in' ref! You see, Wong... you made a fatal mistake. That referee... was my father. [McKenzie looks intense for a few seconds...] BM: Okay, my uncle. [A few seconds pass...] BM: He's actually someone I went to high school with. [More time...] BM: Okay, okay, I think his name is Bob...but the point is, I know that man! And when you attacked him... rage flowed through me, Wong, flowed through me like a bad burrito from Chi-Chi's. I'm pissed, Wong... ...and I'm going to take it out... ...on THAT. [McKenzie turns around and points to the parking lot stretching out behind him. Specifically, McKenzie points to a black Dodge Viper, freshly washed and waxed, sitting nearby, with a vanity plate on the front with the word FATALITY on it in silver lettering. Obvious to everyone, this is Jessica Marshall's car. Obvious to everyone, that is, except Brian McKenzie.] BM: You must be a big pussy, Wong, to put Jessica Marshall's name on YOUR Viper, but don't worry... you're not going to have that gay-ass plate on your car in a couple of seconds... ...hell, you're not gonna have a car, PERIOD. [McKenzie turns and points again... ...and this time, it's very obvious what he's pointing to. The rapidly-becoming famous T-81 Soviet tank with the Budweiser emblem emblazoned on the side... ...aka the Fratmobile. And it's revving its engine.] BM: I hope you enjoyed having your car, Paul...because as of right now, your car loan has been readjusted to a... ...flat rate. [McKenzie begins to laugh... but...] BM: God, that was a bad joke. [Brian turns to the tank and raises one hand... and the tank responds by revving its engine, the sound rising as it shifts gears.] BM: Rebecca... on my signal... unleash hell. [McKenzie drops his hand in a sharp motion...and the tank shoots forward across the parking lot. The turret turns towards the Dodge Viper, and the tank follows eventually. Closer it gets, the engine screaming louder... and louder... ...until the Fratmobile slams into the side of the car! Glass shatters and metal shrieks as the driver's side window and door crumple inwards. The car itself slides forward a few feet, until the tank catches and pulls itself up and on to the roof of the Viper! McKenzie can be seen laughing his ass off as the tank crushes the top of the American car, sending all the remaining glass flying outward. The tank finally makes it way over the car and comes to a stop on the far side, leaving nothing but a twisted mix of glass and steel behind it. As the tank stops, the match in the front opens, and up from inside pops up Rebecca "Speedbump" Marshall, a wide smile on her face.] RSM: Did I get it? [McKenzie smiles as he walks over.] BM: Oh, Rebecca, you got it. RSM: Good! Now, when can we go get Wong's car? BM: I... Wong's car? Rebecca, we just ran over Wong's car. RSM: No... that was my sister's car. BM: You mean... that was JESSICA'S car? RSM: Yeah! It was her pride and joy... BM: I thought it was Wong's car! RSM: Oh, no! It's definitely Jessica's. BM: So we just ran over Jessica's car... hell, I'll take that. RSM: She's going to be pissed, Brian... BM: Hell, she's a [MEEP] anyway. RSM: BRIAN! She's my sister! BM: So? She's a [MEEP]in' dirty [MEEP] [MEEP] [MEEP] hosebeast [MEEP] [MEEP]in' [MEEP] [MEEP] Kyle Lee [MEEP] [MEEP]in' [MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP] and a skanky ho. RSM: Okay, as long as you don't call her a [MEEP]. BM: No, but she's a [MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP]. [Fade to [MEEP] ...and back to the announce table.] SS: They're gonna pay! AM: Payback is most definitely a bitch, and the Machines have it coming to them in spades. That was just a small portion of what's in store. DR: Nevertheless, Team Canada and the Ghost Dancers seem like they're ready for Gold Rush already. Grapes's boys get a shot at the Harlequins and the World Tag Titles, and the Ghost Dancers are going to get their hands on those mysterious Japanese wrestlers who have been following them for weeks now. Up next we've got another tag team contest, between some people with real bad blood between them. "Agony" Michael Augustine and "Crimson" Joe Reed, which you saw at the top of this hour, team up against "Dark Horse" Randall Osbourne and "Sudden Death" Shane Matthews. Here are some comments from part of Reed and Augustine's opposition, Oz. [Fade to a large set of double doors. There's no markings on the door but you can still assume that you're in Morton Stadium. A quick survey of the area shows Tawni sitting in a chair, reading a European magazine. She seems bored but she also seems to be waiting on something. That something possibly could be Scud, who just walked up.] Scud: Where's Oz? T: He's finishing up his project. Scud: His what? T: Remember that match where Rick Styles got forked in the head? Scud: Yeah, that was cool. T: Well, he found a small chunk of flesh on the fork. Scud: He's adding it to his collection? T: No matter how small it is, a piece of Rick Styles way to damn much. Scud: Amen. T: He should almost be done. [Through a set of double doors comes a heavy led apron wearing, goggle protected Randall Osbourne with jar in hand.] RO: My latest masterpiece is complete! Scud: That's Rick Styles? RO: In the bronzed flesh. T: Kind of scrawny isn't it? RO: Just like the real Rick Styles. T: True enough. Scud: I brought the camera crew like you wanted. RO: Good, good. If you don't mind Scud, could you go finish cleaning up the equipment? [Scud gets excited!] Scud: Sure! T: Don't get to close to the fire Scud! [But Scud is gone before Tawni is able to finish her warning.] RO: Not to worry, I put away the dangerous stuff. There shouldn't be anything for him to... [CRASH!] RO: ...get hurt on. T: Right. I'll go check on him. [Tawni gets up from her seat and enters through the double doors to check on Scud. Osbourne removes his goggles and and turns to the camera.] RO: Joe Reed, you sick [BLEEP]! I always heard you had a sick fetish for tupperware but I never thought it was true. I hope this is just your "Bizarro Joe" phase because this is absolutely disgusting. Zalright? [Osbourne holds up his jar with the bronzed piece of Rick Styles.] Piece of Flesh: [via ventriliquist Oz] Zalright! RO: See? Rick Styles agrees. [Osbourne sets the jar aside.] RO: I think its a good thing that you had your moment of cannibalism Joe. You now have the bloodlust that I got long ago. I can't say I really agree with you putting that piece of me in a tupperware container but it's not like you can bronze a piece of human flesh. I can, but you can't. I hold the patent on that particular device so you're not likely to find anything like it anywhere else. If you do? Well, we'd be talking lawsuit. But right now I only want to talk about one thing. Plastics. Plastics will make your artificial hip. Plastics will make your replacement knees. Plastics are what you're going to be made of once your brain catches up with your body and you're forced to go in for your routine 3,000 year tuneup. You're not old Joe. You're [BLEEP]ing ancient. Who knows how long you'll go, but the actions you take now are certainly not the smartest thing to do if you plan on having a physicly comfortable retirement. Worst of all, you're backed into a corner right now. You're facing off against one of your all time worst enemies and a tag team partner that was smart enough to make peace. And on your side, you've got you, and another of your all time worst enemies. If the rest of Tradition shows up, the chaos will surely break free, but there is absolutely no shortage of people who have issues with Tradition. As Shane Matthews once said "[BLEEP] Tradition." Keep your little tupperware bowl and keep that piece of your forhead but the more you try an antagonize me, the worse I get. Don't antagonize me mother [MEEP]er. I might have to get another piece of Joe Reed for my collection and make bookends. [Fade. "Joy To The World, The Lord Has Come" begins to play throughout the arena as the crowd rises to their feet. The fans in Ireland begin to boo as Chanel steps out from behind the curtain. Following behind her, being carried of course by his lackies is none other than the self professed "Lord" of Sports Entertainment, himself, "His Majesty" John Williams. The "King Of Sports" as usual, is wearing his royal blue kingly robe. He waves at the booing fans with one of the most insencere smiles that I have ever seen on his face. He then begins to blow kisses at the anti-Williams crowd as the lackies finally arrive at ringside. Williams stands up as Chanel holds the ropes for him, and climbs into the ring, the smile never leaving his face. He continues to wave at the fans as the fans respond with boos.] JW: Greetings to all my friends here in Ireland! [Boos from the fans! They obviously aren't friends with "His Majesty"] JW: Yes I know how you've all missed me so! How you've sat back in your broken down shacks, drinking cheap european beer, just hoping, no PRAYING to whatever God you choose to worship, that "His Majesty" John Williams would once again grace the squared circle with his infinite wisdom and words of knowledge. Well fans of the RAW, tonight, I am happy to say, that, YOUR PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED! [John Williams raises his hands in the air victoriously, as the fans show their disagreement.] JW: In fact, I would even go as far as to say that I AM THE GOD THAT YOU WERE PRAYING TO! [The boos really begin to come on strong now! Imagine, the audacity!] JW: You see, UWF, I am the man that you need to look up to and admire. Because unlike that chump, Chris Hopper... [Big cheers for the world reknown fan favorite, "Too Cool" himself!] JW: Yes, unlike Chris Hopper, I get the job done. Unlike Chris Hopper, when I step into the wrestling ring, you see actual technical wrestling take place. Chris Hopper couldn't wrestle his way out of a paper bag! And if the idiot actually shows up to wrestle me at Gold Rush 2001, you will see first hand exactly why I am as great as I say I am! Unfortunately for you, you fans won't get to see that. Do you want to know why? [Smirks arrogantly.] JW: Because Chris Hopper IS A COWARD! [The fans continue to boo Williams on as Williams looks out among the crowd.] JW: Yes, Chris Hopper is a coward! He lives in absolute FEAR of me! I make him urinate in his trunks! I make him deficate in his jeans! I'm the one he has nightmares about and I'm the one he takes drugs for to avoid dealing with. Chris Hopper, I am your living nightmare. A man with the technical prowress and the athletic talent to put your overhyped reputation finally to rest. I am The King of Sports and The Lord of Sports Entertainment, and when it is all said and done Hopper, you shall do exactly what all these fans here in Ireland, as well as all across the known world do. [Grins at the camera.] JW: You shall BOW DOWN AND WORSHIP ME! ["Joy To The World" once again begins to play as the fans boo the arrogance of "His Majesty" Williams continues to wave to the fans, before sitting back on his throne and being carried back by his lackies to the back.] AM: Hopper is going to kill Williams. Mark my words. DR: That match will be fought inside the Cell at Gold Rush, just one more reason to order the show. [The scene cuts to a locker room, where "Sudden Death" Shane Matthews prepares for tonight's contest. Shane is dressed to wrestle, and faces the mirror. He cracks his neck to one side, then the other. Suddenly, we hear a door swing open behind him, and it's not long before Johnny Terror walks into frame. He wears a teal suit and has his left arm in a cast, with a sling around his neck supporting it. He limps into the room with the aid of a steel cane.] SM: Okay, so tell me again why you're using the cane? JT: I'm injured, damnit! You saw what happened, that freakin' psycho beat the crap out of me last week! SM: I realize this, but you do know that Augustine broke your arm, not your leg, right Johnny? JT: Yeah, but don't YOU know the arm bone's connected to the shoulder bone, and the shoulder bone's connected to the back bone, and the back bone's connected to the... SM: Alright, alright already, that's enough. I get the point... you're a moron. JT: That's right, I'm... [Realization slowly dawns...] HEY! SM: But be that as it may, you're MY moron, and Augustine stepped way the hell over the line when he put his hands on you last week. He didn't have to do that, I mean look at you! Ninety-six pounds soaking wet. Like you're a threat to ANYBODY. JT: Hey, I'll have you know that I once beat up a kid in third grade. SM: You did? JT: Yup. SM: Now there's a side of you I never expected. Did you get in trouble? JT: No, I drove away before he could tell anybody. SM: You drove away? You drove a car in third grade? JT: No, I never said _I_ was in the third grade, I said I beat up a kid who was in the third grade. This was like... 3 months ago. [Shane buries his head in his hands.] SM: I don't even wanna know... JT: I really kicked his ass too. SM: Lets not get into this right now. The point is, that attack was totally uncalled for. I mean sure, you have a bit of a problem with thinking things through before you say them, but it's nothing that a good slap upside the head won't fix. JT: And if anybody would know that from experience, I'd be you, Shane. You know I remember one time you hit me so hard that I nearly shi... [Shane slaps Johnny upside the head.] Oww! What was that for? SM: Demonstration purposes. Anyway, tonight Augustine's gonna get a little preview of what he's got ahead of him at Gold Rush. Me and Oz, Augy and Reed. One team slowly coming together, the other coming apart at the seems. I gotta tell you, it doesn't look good for those boys tonight. I mean Oz and I have had our differences, but that's long behind us. Right now, I can't think of a better guy to have watching my back. Not that I _need_ someone watching my back, mind you, but if you gotta have a partner, it's nice to have one that pulls his own weight. So tonight, there shouldn't be any problems. I've got no problems with Oz, and I've got no problems beating the hell out of either Augustine or Reed. I've never really had a problem with Reed personally, but everybody knows I've never been the biggest fan of Tradition, especially now that they're counting Styles among their ranks. If any of them boys wanna come and join the fracas, I'm more than willing to oblige them. [Shane turns to look straight into the camera, no longer just talking to Johnny. He brushes his hair back to reveal a gaze of pure intensity.] So make no mistake about it, it's gonna be a war zone out there tonight, but in order to win a war, one must present a strong, united front. That's something these two guys just aren't capable of. Oz has got Reed covered, and Augy, I guess that makes you my bitch. I hope you enjoyed your first little taste of Sudden Death last week. Tonight, I'll show you just a little bit more. Fortunately for you, though, I'm saving the full Sudden Death Experience just for our little match at the PPV... or was that Unfortunately? I guess that all depends on how you look at it. Would you like your crippling to commence now, or later? Guess it doesn't really matter, because one way or the other, it is coming, and there's not a goddamn thing you can do about it. [Fade to the arena.] DR: And now that we've heard from all four parties involved in the match, there's nothing left to do but go to the ring. _____ _ _ _ _____ .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.| | | | | | __|.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. Saturday Night Rampage| | | | | | __|Saturday Night Rampage |_____|_____|__| TAG TEAM WAR: "Dark Horse" Randall Osbourne and "Sudden Death" Shane Matthews versus "Crimson" Joe Reed and "Agony" Michael Augustine -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- Writer: Dead Boy Jones DH: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is a tag team contest. Introducing first... ["Bad Company" by Bad Company begins playing. The lights dim, except for a single red spotlight.] From Lexington, Kentucky, weighing in at two hundred and sixty pounds, accompanied to the ring by the Lady in Red... "CRRRRRRRRRRRIMMMMSOOOOOOOOOOOONNNN" JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOE RRRRRRREEEEEED! [Just as the chorus begins, Reed and the Lady in Red step out. They walk down the aisle, ignoring the fans and the chants of "HAS BEEN" and discussing last-minute strategy, but watching the ring and Reed's opponent. Reed has something in his hands, something plastic.] AM: Aw geez, tell me that's not the tupperware container Reed's been carrying around the last few weeks. SS: Looks like it to me. [Reed stops at ringside as the boos continue, and hands his manager the container. The LiR looks repulsed at this, holding out as far away from herself as possible. Joe climbs into the ring, and the Lady in Red sets it down in front of the announcers.] AM: Are you going to open it? DR: I'm not going to open it. AM: Let's ask Sammy- he'll open anything. SS: Like hell I will. [The crowd becomes electrified as the sound of bells ringing over the PA system causes the lights to go out. After a few seconds, an eerie guitar piece comes in with the bells. The drums kick in as fireworks are set off, and "Hell's Bells" by AC/DC starts to play full blast as the audience releases a huge heel pop, save for the wild cheering of the Children of the Evolution!] DH: From Northwest Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, weighing in at two hundred and forty-seven pounds, he is accompanied by Allison Ivey and is the leader of the Youngbloods! Ladies and gentlemen... the Prince of Pain, the Philadelphia Psycho... "AAAAAAAAAAAGONYYYYYYYYYYYYY" MIIIIIIICHAAAAAAAAAAELLLLLLLLLL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGUUUUUUUUUSTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE! [Augustine strides out from backstage, fists clenched in front of him and a look of pure determination crossing over his face. A white spotlight hits him and follows him down the ramp, as Augustine jaws with some of the fans standing right by the platform. Augustine is wearing a Philadelphia 76ers jersey with "Psycho 01" on the back, over the black tights, boots and fingerless gloves that makes up his ring attire. Across his face is a small bandage where the homemade stitches are covered up. A few steps behind him walks Allison Ivey, wearing a black halter top with the word BLEED written across it and red jeans.] # I'm a rolling thunder, a pouring rain # # I'm comin' on like a hurricane # # My lightning's flashing across the sky # # You're only young but you're gonna die # [As he approaches the end of the rampway, Augustine turns around and looks up at the crowd, raising his arms into the Youngbloods salute. The Children of the Evolution, facing him, return the salute. He then walks down the steps to ringside.] # I won't take no prisoners, won't spare no lives # # Nobody's putting up a fight # # I got my bell, I'm gonna take you to hell # # I'm gonna get you, Satan get you # [The challenger relaxes his hands to pull himself up onto the ring apron, climbing in the ring. He removes the jacket and tosses it over the ropes to an attendant, then climbs up onto a turnbuckle to give the Youngbloods salute to the fans, who respond with more booing.] # Hell's Bells # # Yeah, Hell's Bells # # You got me ringing Hell's Bells # # My temperature's high, Hell's Bells # AM: Is it necessary to announce him as the leader of a group which no longer exists? DR: I'm just marvelling at the fact that one year ago, these two faced off in the main event of Gold Rush and just a year later, they're tag team partners. SS: Well aren't we in a sentimental mood tonight? DH: And their opponents! First... ["Albatross" by Corrosion of Conformity begins to play over the PA system, setting the crowd into a frenzy of cheers. The cheers get louder as Tawni and Shawni, the infamous Nasti Habits, appear first through the entrance.] SS: Now there's something to get misty over. DH: From Kansas City, Missouri, weighing in at three hundred pounds, accompanied to the ring by the Nasti Habits and Scud... "DAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRK HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSSE" RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRANDAAAAAAAAAAAALL OOOOOOOOSBOUUUUUUUUUUUURNNNNNNNE! [They stop at the top of the ramp and look out into the crowd. They turn back to the entrance and herald the entrance of "The Dark Horse" Randall Osbourne. The Habits begin to walk down the ramp as does Osbourne who is flanked by Billy "Scud" McKenzie. The crowd starts its "Scud" chants, welcoming all four to the arena. Tawni and Shawni greet the fans as Scud tries not to get my flying water bottles and the like. Osbourne smirks but seems mostly focused on the ring and the matter at hand.] DH: And his partner! From Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-two pounds... [The lights in the arena dim, and the opening guitar riff of Kid Rock's "Dark and Grey" begins to crank on the sound system. The riff builds to a peak, and the ramp explodes in a giant display of pyro just as Kid Rock screams the first words of the song, "FUCK OFF!".] Accompanied by Johnny Terror... "SUUUUUUUUDDEEEEEEEEEEEENNNN DEEEEEEEEEAAAATH" SSSSSSSHHHHAAAAAAAANE MMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWSSSSS! [When the smoke clears, Shane stands on the ramp, Johnny Terror at his side, and briefly surveys the crowd, flashing his trademark grin, before starting towards the ring. Shane looks totally focused on the task at hand and very intense when heading to the ring. Terror's arm is in a cast thanks to the attack from last week, but he's also walking with a steel cane.] SS: Someone wanna tell that idiot he's got a busted arm, not leg? AM: Johnny isn't the most cerebral of managers. [Matthews and Terror march down to ringside, and take a position next to Osbourne, watching Augustine and Reed inside the ring.] DR: All four men have scores to settle with each other, and this is not going to be a technical masterpiece. AM: We'll be lucky if blood isn't spilled. SS: How would that be lucky? [As the bell rings, Matthews and Osbourne climb onto the ring apron. Augustine and Reed let their rage get the better of them and start swinging right away, but as Osbourne grabs Reed and starts to choke him on the top rope, Matthews ducks Augustine's shot and climbs to the top turnbuckle immediately, launching onto Augustine with a bodypress. POP!] DR: Didn't take long to get this underway, but good luck trying to keep the peace in there. [Osbourne jumps off the apron and pulls Reed out to ringside, as Matthews pummels Augustine in the head repeatedly. Augustine is able to roll on top of Shane though and gives a number of shots right back, before getting up and dragging Matthews to his feet with him. Osbourne and Reed immediately spill into the crowd, which of course thrills the drunken Irish patrons that have come her to see the American version of a soccer riot. Beer gets tossed and beer gets drunk. And thats just the wrestlers.] DR: This is no time to drink. SS: Unless you're a Fraternity Boy. [Back in the ring, Shane is going after Augustine with a vengeance. And Augustine? Well, he's being Augustine and after his feuds with Slater and Reed, I don't think I have to tell you what that means. Niether Augustine nor Matthews care to give the other any slack what so ever. These to are at each other's throats and given the oppurtuniy, they're sure to go to the next bell and beyond. Augustine drops Matthews to the mat and lunges at Sudden Death's throat. Shane manages to fend Agony off (in more way that one) by jabbing him in the eye and taking a full head of hair. Matthews starts punching away at Augustine, who in retaliation, takes a wild punch, connecting with the left side of Matthews' jaw. Matthews lets go and gets to his feet. Augustine follows suit, and soon after, Agony and Sudden Death are brawling again.] DR: Now as a message to our younger viewers out there, this may look fun, but its only fun until somebody looses an eye. SS: Then it's fun you can't see. AM: Have you no shame? SS: Shame? Wasn't that a John Wayne movie? AM: That was "Shane". SS: Shane Matthews was in a movie with John Wayne? He can't be that old! AM: You're really starting to sound like a MBC commentator tonight. SS: Amy. I am deeply hurt by that. You have wounded me. AM: Good. [As the eye gouging and limb bending continued into the ring, Osbourne and Reed continued their wild brawl through the crowd. Doused in beer and other assorted beverages, Reed takes full advantage of the proximity of steel chairs. Reed takes on and blasts Osbourne upside the head. Osbourne scrambles away with each successive hit but the bastard keeps smiling. Joe Reed, normaly the stoic, calm wrestler we've now grown to hate was raving like an absolute lunatic. Waving his chair like a madman, Reed was practically foaming at the mouth. Osbourne was taking one shot after another and laughing about it despite the pain. Reed yelled in response, demanding to know what was so damned funny.] DR: Osbourne has triggered something in Reed. Never before have I seen him in a state such as this. SS: Then you never see him in the buffet line at the salad bar. You don't [MEEP] with that guy! DR: Its a good thing the referee is letting a lot of this go. We're not five minutes into the match, and all four men are doing things that would have gotten them disqualified long ago. SS: Why the hell is Osbourne laughing? AM: Simple. It pisses off Reed. [Osbourne steps over the guardrail and onto the main aisleway between the entrance and the ring. With steel chair in hand, Reed follows, stepping over the guardrails himself. Suddenly, Osbourne's laughing stops and the "Dark Horse" strikes Reed down with a clothesline before he can finish stepping over the guardrail. Randall takes the steel chair and starts blasting away at Reed's knee. He stops, looks at Reed and then begins again. Reed takes a few hard shots but his sheer will fires him up enough to get back to his feet. Reed grabs for the chair and the two wrestler duel over possession of the object. Osbourne's laughing starts again.] SS: I wonder if killer clowns smile as much as that man. [With the war of attrition waging on for the steel chair, Augustine has Matthews backed into a corner. Punch after punch, Augustine drives his fists into Matthews abdomen, showing no mercy what so ever. Matthews braces himself with each hit until finally he reaches his limit and breaks from the corner, blasting Augustine with a series of punches that would make any boxer proud. And Augustine absorbs them to such a degree it would make any opponent for Mike Tyson jealous. Augustine and Matthews trade punches until Matthews catches Augustine with a stiff enough shot to allow him to advance and hit Augustine with a belly to belly suplex. Matthews goes for the cover but Augustine kicks out easily at one. Matthews start laying punches into Augustine's forehead oncemore and again, Augustine fires back. The referee gets between the two. Of course, he runs away soon after, afraid to get nailed in the eye with a free roaming punch. Back to their feet, Shane and Michael slug it out, slowly moving towards the ropes.] SS: What is it with these people? Have they nothing better to do other than to pick fights and try and injure the other guy? AM: Wouldn't be wrestling if they did have something better to do. SS: Lets get Tigress and Superfly out here. They could have a match that'd make everybody happy. DR: Reed's got the chair again! [CRACK!] CJR: WHY... [CRACK!] CJR: ...ARE... [CRACK!] CJR: ...YOU... [CRACK!] CJR: ...LAUGHING? [CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!] DR: Osbourne is busted open already. Reed went for the stitches on the Madman's forehead and he has succeeded in drawing first blood. SS: I bet you he wished he could have done that in the First Blood match they had back in 1998. [Osbourne fought with Reed for the chair again, smiling and laughing despite the open wound on his head. Was it joyful or funny? Maybe to him, but it truly had a greater purpose: To piss Joe Reed the hell off. The strategies for Augustine and Matthews were much the same, but they wee pissed off in a much shorter time period. Augustine pulls down Matthews with a Japanese Arm Drag which, when both men get back to their feet, is responded to with a dropkick from Matthews. Matthews pulls Augustine back to his feet and backs him into the ropes. Matthews drives several knees into Augustine's breadbasket but the Philadelphia Psycho uses the prime positioning to surprise Matthews with a Dominator.] DR: Augustine with the cover but Matthews quicks out. And their brawling again! SS: Why do they even bother to try and pin each other. AM: Humiliation. What else? [Matthews and Augustine brawl against the rope once more as Osbourne wrestles the chair away from Reed and cracks him in the back with it. Reed comes to the ring and rests a hand to his back. Osbourne comes charging with the steel chair. Reed ducks and sidesteps out of the way. He steels the chair from Osbourne and tosses it aside, getting Reed and Osbourne into a slug fest. Though the chair shot didn't connect with Reed, it did graze Augustine's leg. That was certainly more than enough to get his attention. Augustine clotheslines Matthews to the mat and exits the ring. He picks up the steel chair and plasters Osbourne with it from behind. Augustine then locks eyes with Reed.] CJR: What the hell are you doing? Osbourne is MINE! You got me? [Reed wants Osbourne all to himself.] MA: [BLEEP] you! [Augustine doesn't agree.] LiR, Tawni and AM: [sigh] [[BLEEP]ing testosterone.] DR: This is going to be a huge problem for Augustine and Reed. If they want to come out on top, they'll have to work together. Matthews and Osbourne at least have the small luxury of being a tag team for a short time. AM: Reed wants Osbourne all to himself but Augustine wants a piece of the Dark Horse himself for whatever reason. SS: Let it never be said that horse meat isn't in demand. DR: I would imagine Augustine is still a bit angry about Osbourne throwing him through a glass window at the Road to Wrestlebowl. SS: What breaks into millions of jagged little pieces that cut deep into the flesh, only makes us stronger. [Augustine and Reed were a hair's length away from coming to blows. Thankfuly for them (to a dgree) someone interveaned. Shane Matthews was back on his feet and dashing for the ropes. After rebounding off the far side, he came straight at Augustine and Reed and launched himself over the top rope and onto the two unsuspecting debatees.] DR: Matthews with a spectacular move over the top rope! AM: Looks like Reed got most of that! [And with Osbourne going right back after Reed, Crimson Joe was in a good amount of trouble. Matthews and Osbourne roll Reed into the ring and follow right after. The team of Oz and "Death" push Reed to the ropes and give him a double whip across the ring. He springs back off the ropes and nail Reed with a fall away face first slam into the mat. And Augustine? He's standing on the ring apron, letting it happen.] DR: Its like isn't aknowledging that Reed even exists. SS: Thats why you share the beatings your tag team partner. [Osbourne goes for the cover but Reed kicks out quickly at two. The referee, seeing Augustine surprisingly in his corner, sends Matthews to his own corner. Even more surprisingly, after the wild start, this match actualy begins to look like a tag team contest. Osbourne and Reed fight again and much like earlier, its all about crippling the other. Osbourne fires away with a haymaker that jossels Reed back to the ropes. But the so called "dinosaur" comes back hitting Osbourne with a belly to belly suplex.] DR: Reed looks like he's finally come back his senses. He's going back to the mat wrestling. No... wait... AM: He's trying to rip off more skin. Thats just sick. SS: Yeah, but Osbourne would do the same. Hell, he's trying to do it right now. [Indeed, he is. As Reed is digging into Osbourne' busted stitched, Osbourne is trying to open up Reed's old scar from the first time the two behemoths fought. Its not a pretty sight but it at least gets a smirk out of Augustine. In effort to keep Osbourne from gaining the upperhand, the Lady in Red reaches into the ring, and pulls Osbourne off of Reed. Tawni and Shawni immediatly confront her and the referee has to exit the ring to get between them all. Allison Ivey inserts herself as does Scud. Johnny Terror, with his new found courage, jumps into it as well.] AM: New Found courage? You mean his steel cane? DR: Well if a cane keeps people away from him, then its doing his job. AM: If Johhny really wanted to protect himself, he'd get a broadsword. SS: Right. Like Johnny Terror could even LIFT a broadsword. [Osbourne and Reed get back to their feet and brawl, fists covered in each other's blood. Though Osbourne has been bleeding for a while now, he's still up and kicking. Reed, now with a reopened scar, is bleeding from the forhead. Osbourne whips Reed to his own corner and taunts him, daring him to come at him, bad hip and all. And just as Reed, grnting like a brahma bull, prepares to charge, Augustine slaps Reed on the chest, effectively tagging himself in. The referee shows up immediatly to send Reed to the apron.] SS: He got bitch slapped. Thats too funny. DR: Are you going to tell Reed that? SS: Oh hell no. [Augustine immediately rakes Osbourne in the eyes, following that up with a flurry of punches to the head and neck. With Osbourne backed into the ropes, the Dark Horse does one thing and one thing only. Headbutts. One after the other. Add to the fact that these are bloody headbutts and you've got yourself a pretty picture. With his forehead now covered in blood thats not his own, Augustine grows angrier (if you can imagine such a thing). Augustine absolutely cuts loose on Osbourne and the Dark Horse does the same in turn. Osbourne catches Augustine with a knee to the gut and then lifts him high above his head into a Military Press Slam. He holds him there for a good long while before dropping him a good eight or nine feet to the mat. Augustine is back to hsi feet rather quickly, jumping Osbourne from behind to execute a side Russian leg sweep. And with Randall down, Augustine goes right for the open stitches.] SS: You know what I'd like to see? AM: Augustine versus Osbourne in a Falls Count Anywhere Match at the next Brawl from the Mall? SS: What? No. I'd like to see Tigress and Superfly... AM: No, we don't want to know what you'd like to see. SS: Sam sad. [Augustine brings Osbourne to his feet and backs him to the ropes. Reed looks on from the adjacent corner and screams at Augustine, demanding that he be tagged in so he can get his shots in on Osbourne. Augustine takes a break from pummeling Osbourne and turns to stare at Reed. He stares. And stares. And stares. Then stares some more. Then he gives Reed the big middl finger before going back to pummeling Osbourne.] DR: Augustine with an Irish whip... no Osbourne reverses into a short clothesline! AM: He nearly took Augustine's head off with that! SS: I'm sure that was the point. [Osbourne quickly reaches down to pull "Agony" up to his feet and then scoops the former World Champion into a powerslam position. Osbourne starts to run, but rather than take him down with the power slam, Osoburne simply runs full speed into the corner, driving Augustine back first into the turnbuckle. Osbourne then drapes him there into a Tree of Woe, proceeding to ram the holy [BLEEP] out of Augustine with shoulder blocks. Osbourne then tags to Matthews. Sudden Deathe stands mid ring where Osbourne Irish whips his partner straight at the prone Augustine. Matthews goes flying and launches into a dropkick that connects with Augustine's gut. Michael essentialy falls out of the Tree of Woe. And Reed? He simply watches.] DR: Augustine and Reed absolutely have no love for each other. AM: Stab me in the back, and I'll stab you. SS: Not that again. I'm still trying to work that off. AM: That ought to teach you to switch chairs with me. SS: But that was three years ago! AM: You just never learn. [Matthews sent Augustine to the ropes and on the return, Matthews took him down with hiptoss followed up by a elbow drop. Augustine was back on his feet and started to fight away. Matthews dropped chest chop after chest chop and even aimed a good punch or two at Augustine's stitches. This of course, didn't make Augustine any happier. The new found rivals again started to pound away with punches, haymakers and uppercuts. Matthews pushed Augustine back to his very own corner, where Joe Reed returned the favor, slapping Augy on the chest and tagging himself in.] SS: Its a good thing more tag teams don't do this kind of thing. DR: Why's that? SS: Hell if I know. It just is. Jut generalizing. AM: Save the generalization for when you pick up women. [Matthews had no special hatred for Reed but he certainly wasn't one to like Tradition. And Reed, well the inner bitterness reminded Joe of the days of old.] DR: If I remember correctly, it was Shane Matthews that cost Joe Reed his first AEWA World Title reign. SS: Ah man. Did you really have to bring the AEWA into this? AM: It was a valid point. SS: Sure. But its like putting amateur porn with fat people on late night Cinemax. It brings the whole place down. [Regardless, Joe Reed was still taking out years of pent up anger. Matthews was dishing it out just the same. Watching from the ring apron, their respective partners, Augustine and Osbourne were getting anxious. So to better pass the time, they had the same thought. Both jumped down from the ring apron and ran at each other on the outside of the ring.] AM: Can they not wait their turn? SS: It's not like we're talking about the TMK here... thought I wish we were. [SLAP!] AM: Bring them up again and I'll knock a tooth out! [Augustine was quick to get several punches in but Osbourne catches him off guard with a stiff jab to the throat. With a whip of his opponent, Osbourne sends Augustine straight into the guardrails. Looking for something to throw, he picks up the nearby ringsteps for the lack of a midget . Osbourne raises the metal construct above his head and prepares to bing it crashing down on Augustine's skull. But Augustine rolls out of the way and dropkicks Osbourne in the knee. He drops to one knee with the ringsteps falling to the side. A sick grin overcomes Augustine's face as he looks to the ring. He goes to the apron and pulls up the curtain. He rummages around underneath the ring (where Reed and Matthews are having a suplex/brawl fest) and pulls out a very large and very clear object.] DR: Thats a pane of glass! Why the hell is there a pane of glass under the ring? AM: The same reason why people mark for a hamster that goes MEEP. SS: It's written that way. AM: Exactly. [Augustine gets a firm grip on the large glass pane and waits for just the right moment to strike. Osbourne gets back to his feet, grabbing the ringsteps once more, and starts making his way towards the man they call Agony. Augustine takes the glass pane and brings down across Osbourne's head... CRASH! ...the glass shatters into a thousand pieces as it connects with the Dark Horse's skull. Augustine watches the shards fall and grins. He then looks at Osbourne and his expression changes to anger.] DR: OSBOURNE IS JUST STANDING THERE BLEEDING AND SMILING! SS: Somehow I don't see me doing the same thing if I were to get a glass window broken over my head. DR: OSBOURNE SWINGS WITH THE STEPS! [Augustine takes a hard hit from the steps and falls to the ring apron. Osbourne swings again, shaking off the broken glass from his hair and shoudlers. Augustine sidesteps the second swing, and back away from a third. Osbourne simply tosses the steps at Augustine rather than swing a fourth time. He gets good distance, though still not Olympic material. Augustine lined up straight with Osbourne and screamed... [BLEEP]DAMNIT! JUST BLEED AND DIE!] ...and thus, Augustine charged Osbourne, head down, shoulders up into... DR: GOOD GOD! AM: AUGUSTINE JUST HIT OSBOURNE WITH A SPEAR.. DR: ONTO THE BROKEN GLASS! SS: Wow. Osbourne just got [MEEP]ed. [Yeah, it wasn't pretty. The impact from the spear sent Osbourne down back first onto the broken glass. And he wasn't smiling this time. He was definitly in pain. Still he was laughing jsut a bit. And for the first time, Augustine realized what was driving Reed so damned crazy. Osbourne wouldn't acknowledge the pain. Michale grabbed Osbourne by the sides of the head and started to pound it into the ground like a hammer. The fans were going wild but they saw something that they never thought they'd see.] Crowd: SCUD! SCUD! SCUD! DR: Why in the hell does Scud have Terror's steel cane? AM: If we're using Terror's logic, Scud must have a headcold. [for no reason other than either sheer loyalty or sheer stupidity, Scud strikes Augustine in the back of the head with the steel cane. Augustine no sells it of course. I mean, this _IS_ Scud who's swinging it afterall. Augustine grabs Scud by the throat and picks him up. He holds him up, sets hum up and simply DRIVES Scud down with a Jumping Reverse Cradle Piledriver. Augustine gets back up, grinning.] DR: Augustine was talking about "The Psycho Driver" backstage earlier today! That _HAS_ to be it! AM: Poor, poor Scud. SS: Well if thats what Augustine calls it, then that name at least belongs to one thing thats credible. [Just to be a bastard, Augustine kicks Scud while he's down. He grins again and looks inside the ring, where he finds Reed getting up in the far carner. He looks to the top of a near corner to see Matthews flying off with a corkscrew plancha. THUD! Both men crash like a ton of bricks and nobody on the outside the ring is moving anywhere quick. Joe Reed gets to his feet and exits the ring. He picks Matthews up by the hair and rolls him back into the ring. He follows and then hoists Matthew's body onto the bottom rope. With an unlikley use of leverage, Reed uses the bottom rope to choke Matthews out. Augustine, stirring from the plancha takes a piece of nearby glass and grins.] DR: Oh Dear God no! AM: AUGUSTINE JUST SLICED MATTHEWS IN THE FOREHEAD! DR: All four men are bleeding now and... AUGUSTINE JUST SLICED REED TOO! SS: Whoa! Cool! [Somehow, Augustine and Steely were the only people to really thing that. Augustine tosses away the glass and starts to punch into both Reed AND Matthews. Augustine was certainly not in a good mood and he wasn't going to let his so called tag parnter have all the fun. But his fun was cut short, as if from nowhere, Osbourne clocks Augustine in the side of the head with timekeeper's bell. He clocks Reed for good measure and hands it off to Matthews so that he may use it to his advantage. Matthews and Reed got back to their feet and the [BLEEP] was on so to speak. Matthews gutted Reed with the bell and then clocked him in the side of the head. Both men were looking a bit delirious from the fatigue and blood loss but they fept fighting on. Matthews connected with a dropkick and went for the cover. Again, Joe Reed managed to kick out.] AM: _This_ is what the "Never Say Die" tour is all about. SS: Bleeding? [Reed and Matthews stand to their feet again and the fight begins anew. Osbourne, bleeding from multiple cuts on his back trades punches with Augustine, who is bleeing from multiple spots as well. In fact, everybody was bleeding. Even Scud. As Osbourne and Augustine fight, Michael delievers a sharp kick to Osbourne's groin, doubling the big man over. Augsutine then takes his hands and wraps them around the Dark Horse's throat, trying to strangle the very life out of him. But Osbourne fights and pulls himself free. Augustine, not to be out done, forces himself farther. Osbourne, however starts his smiling and laughing again. He grabs Augustine's hand and BITES DOWN on the webbing between the thumb and pointer finger on Augy's left hand. Like a pit bull he doesn't let go even with Augustine punching him in the head.] DR: This has gotten way out of control! AM: Oh really? Just now? [And a yell is heard... "MOTHER [BLEEP]ER!" ...Osbourne pulls away from the bite but not without taking a piece of Augustine with him. Augustine grabs his hand, looks at it, cusses under his breath and goes back to brawling with Osbourne.] DR: Osbourne just added to his collection! SS: What the hell is up with these guys? Are they frickin' insane? AM: Yeah, I'd say thats an accurate description. [They continue to brawl but the referee inserts himself to get control. He fights especialy hard but it really doesn't do anygood. Meanwhile. Reed and Matthews contiue their bloody fight in the ring. Reed sends Matthews to the ropes and on the rebound, he nails Shane with a boot to the gut, doubling him over. He hooks the arm and lifts him into the air and...] DR: Kentucky Backsmasher! This has to be over! AM: Reed covers... One... Two... NO! Osbourne makes the save! SS: Reed and Oz are brawling again! Where the hell is Augustine? [Stil pissed off about his hand, Augustine pinpoints a fan in the crowd who taunts him with a Rick Styles T-shirt. Augustine growls and steels the shirt from the fan. As the fan is in shock, Augustine rips the shirt to shreads and uses the strips to tie off his wounded left hand. The fan starts to cuss but Augustine replies with a one finger salute.] SS: Okay, thats where he is. I hope he's not considering adding a chainsaw to that hand. [Osbourne and Reed slug it out in the bloodiest of bareknuckle fights as Augustine ties off his hand and as Matthews gets to his feet. Reed guts Osbourne in the gut with a big boot and sets him up for a Kentucky Backsmasher. But Matthews makes the save, clocking Reed with the ring bell. Reed falls back and Matthews capitalizes.] DR: Tiebreaker! Matthews has got the Tiebreaker on Reed! With all the blood loss, this could be over! [Matthews put the move on tight but Reed fights it with everything he's got left. Augustine gets back into the ring and kicks Matthews in the side, breaking up the hold. Osbourne and Augustine start to brawl again as Matthews and Reed get back to their feet to start their fight once more. The crowd is at its feet calling the names of their respective heros. Who's to say if they can even hear it with the blood loss and adrenaline flow.] SS: How does that relate to hearing? AM: Just deal with it. [Osbourne whips Augustine to the corner and heads to the opposite corner. He makes as if he's going to take off running but something grabs his foot. Osbourne looks to the outside where the Lady in Red has a firm grip of his leg. Seeing the opening, Augustine prepares to carry out Osbourne's apparent plan. But as he prepares to make his run, he feels both of his legs being pulled back by Johnny Terror and Scud. As Allison Ivey goes after Scud and Terror, Tawni goes for a chair. She tosses it to Osbourne and pushes the Lady in Red aside. Ivey beats the crap out of both Terror and Scud.] DR: Matthews with a Eurpean Uppercut! Reed is in a daze! AM: look! Shane is going for Osbourne's finisher, the Road to Nowhere! DR: Talk about bittersweet irony! [As Matthews sets up the move, he sees Osbourne running at him with a steel chair raises. At first he doesn't know what to think of it but the first thought that crosses his mind is that Osbourne has totaly flipped. But Osbourne bellows "GET DOWN" and Matthews knows instantly what to do. Matthews lunges backwards, pulling Reed's head into the mat. As matthews goes back, Osbourne swings the chair right at him. Matthews' face and Osbourne's chair come close, missing only within an inch. Still the chair connects... CLANG! ...with Augustine who was running right at Matthews. Matthews nails the Road to Nowhere with authority and covers for the pin. Osbourne jumps onto the pile to keep their opponents down and in doing so, the referee counts the one, two, three.] DH: The winners of this match... SSSSHHHHHAAAAANNNNEEEE MMAAATTTTTTTHHHHEEEEWWWSSSS AND RAAANNNNDDAAALLLLL OOOOSSBBBBBOOOUUUURRRNNNEEEE! AM: Thank God! This match is over! DR: But the fighting isn't! They're still fighting! [Osbourne and Matthews exit the ring but not without Reed and Augustine hounding them all the way. All four men brawl up the ramp and to the back. Several referees come down to try and break it up. And even more arrive to break up the fighing amongst the various managers and valets.] SS: Talk about a logistic nightmare. DR: I don't think I've seen that ring so red with blood. SS: Sure you have. You're just hyping this chaos. [The camera fades back to the locker room of "Cold Blooded" Chris Courtade. There, we see Courtade, sitting on a normal chair, leaning back, his eyes closed, a roll of red tape, hanging down from his wrist. He suddenly leans foward, and continues to roll the tape around his wrist. Around, and around the tape goes, seemingly air tight, as shown by Courtade's intensity towards something as small as wrapping his wrist. Courtade's eyes are focused, more so then quite possibly ever before, as seen by their bulge, by their glazed over appearance. Finally, Courtade looks up, at the UWF camera, as it closes in on Courtade. He stops wrapping his wrist, just as he finishes continuing the wrap through his fingers, and throws the roll of red tape across the room.] CC: Tonight.... [Courtade's lower jaw begins to slowly quiver with anger] CC: Tonight, we finally get to see the look of fear in Daniels eyes, translate into his blood being shed for _your_ very eyes. Tonight, there's no more running, no more hiding... no more. There's just me, and you, and some other idiot, inside a steel cage. I don't care about Austin, never have... and I probably never will. What I care about? You suffering. You see Daniels, it isn't your title that matters. It isn't your spot in this company, it's "you" that matters. You're the annointed savior of this s[bleep] hole of a company. You're the man that they thousands cheer, and adore, night in and night out. You're the man that chooses to walk alone, and stand tall... for what's "right". And I'm the exact opposite. [Courtade slowly closes his eyes, lowering his head, only to re-open his eyes, as he raises his head.] CC: I don't care about the uneducated masses that love this crap you call "wrestling". Hell, I've been to Tampa and California... _they've_ got fans. What you've got, are nothing more then mindless piles of s[bleep], that cheer your every single move. And that's just fine with me Daniels, because the more they cheer... the more they adore you... the more they shower you with affection... The more blood you _will_ shed. [Courtade begins to shake with anger.] CC: For months, I've been in this pile of s[bleep], waiting for _this_ night. For months, I've stood in the back, and seen crap like you, gain respect, title shots, and get the spotlight that you just don't deserve. But tonight... tonight's gonna be different Daniels. Tonight, you're own incompetence, your own ego, put you and me... Inside pure steel. That's right Daniels, you had visions of keeping the weakest, oldest, most overrated group in this business today, away from you. You _fear_ Reed, Youth Gone Wild, and that other guy, the guy that took your place. So, because of that, you close out all doors, all exits, and all last ditch means of survival... and you have to lock eyes with me. You have to lock eyes with the baddest man walking this planet, much _less_ this business. You've got to lock eyes with the only man that you know, without remorse, without compassion, without _care_. And you'll do it all night long. You see Daniels, tonight isn't about your title, nor is it about Austin. Tonight is about you... and me. Tonight is about you, soaking up the crowd, soaking up their every ounce of passion for you, their every shred of adoration... and about you looking up at me, with a crimson mask covering your face, realizing that I just beat the living hell out of you. Oh tonight Daniels... oh tonight. Nowhere to run... nowhere to hide. Just me and you... And your blood... _everywhere_. [Courtade glares into the camera.] CC: See you in hell Scott... it's where I do my best damage. [With that, the camera fades out from the locker room of Courtade. As the camera passes by the next locker room door, Quinn Brown can be seen in the back with a bag of ice, and still appears to be taking congratulations from the other wrestlers. Chris Hopper and the Ghost Dancers are among the masses now. Camera cuts to Tradition's locker room, where Wild, Styles, and Patricia are all drinking champagne and watching a monitor. Wild tosses his glass at the monitor in disgust.] YGW: I've had enough of this. LiR: Wild, wait! [Wild doesn't listen, storming out as the confused Tradition members can only stare. The camera follows him as he storms past the road agent at the gorilla position, ignoring the warning that he's not scheduled. The crowd, which saw him approach on the big screen, boos loudly as Wild storms into the ring and grabs the mic from the announcer.] YGW: You know something? I would be willing to bet every dollar I've ever earned as a professional wrestler... and I've earned a lot... I would bet every dollar that not one of you sorry sons of bitches out there thought I was going to win tonight. Quinn Brown... the hero... the good guy... fighting back from impossible odds to get his shot at Gold Rush... [YGW looks out at the crowd, his face a mask of fury.] YGW: Didn't happen, did it? [An evil smile shows up on Wild's face as the crowd expresses its displeasure with the result of tonight's match.] YGW: I beat his ass four matches to two. Do a little math for once in your worthless lives and figure that out. That's not just a win. That's a convincing win. There should be no doubt in any one of your pathetic minds that Quinn Brown has no business in this promotion, or even this sport, let alone a key match at our marquee Pay-Per-View of the year. And earning a title shot? I put that pipe dream to rest for GOOD! [Wild virtually spits the last word, and we can see his body shaking furiously.] YGW: And what happens? I watch jobber after jobber come up and congratulate him? I get back to my room and find that you three... [Wild viciously whirls on the announce table.] YGW: ...that you three spent all your time putting that sorry bastard over, and not me? You know, the guy who's now the #1 contender to the World Title? Who has a guaranteed shot at the winner of Daniels and Kauffman? SS: Not me. It was all about you, big guy. All about you. AM: It's on tape, Sam. He'll be able to see it. SS: Tapes can be altered. YGW: I don't care if he jumped off the damn roof, that son of a bitch is yesterday's news, and if you bastards don't start to recognize it... [As Wild vents, a familiar piece of music cues up, and the crowd pops huge. Wild looks up, nearly frothing at the mouth... as he sees who's stepped out in front of the curtain. He may be limping, and he may have lost his shot at the World Title, but Quinn Brown is wearing as wide a smile as any we've ever seen.] QB: I have to say, Wild. You don't look like much of a winner to me. YGW: Your moment is over, you piece of crap. Get out of my arena. QB: You know, I'd like to do that. After all, I did lose the series, and I'd like to take it like a man, and go quietly into that dark night. There's just one problem about "my moment being over," as you said. [Brown looks around with a shrug.] QB: I can't find anyone who agrees with you. [Crowd erupts, signifying their agreement with Brown, as Wild spins around, obviously contemplating going after some of the more vocal fans.] QB: Don't get me wrong. I'm not pretending I won tonight. You won the series, and congratulations on that. If I didn't think you'd be a disgrace as champion, I'd even wish you luck in your title shot. But if I recall correctly, what you wanted to do was prove that you were still the top daredevil in the UWF. [Brown shakes his head.] QB: Didn't happen. [The crowd gets even louded, agreeing with Brown more and more by the minute. Wild is fighting the urge to vault the top rope and go after his foe. Pacing back and forth like a caged animal, Wild finally speaks.] YGW: You know, I suppose someone whose career appears in the dictionary next to the phrase "also-ran" can handle losing with a smile. Hell, I'll even give you your due, they were six tough matches. If you'd been a better wrestler, there might have been seven tough matches, but what can you do? But I won, you lost, now GET THE HELL OUT OF MY LIFE! [Wild growls the last phrase, and Brown... laughs.] QB: Whatever you want, Wild. But whenever you call yourself the best highflyer in pro wrestling history, just remember... nobody believes you. Well, that's not quite true. I'm sure you believe it yourself. Hell, maybe even Joe Reed and Rick Styles believe it. But the boys in the back... the front office... the fans... the people who'd only believe you if you actually proved it... well... you know. [Brown turns to leave, but Wild calls out.] YGW: Wait. [Brown turns, arching an eyebrow. Wild, more subdued now, begins to talk, picking up speed as he goes.] YGW: Look... because you choked tonight, neither of us has a match for Gold Rush, and we probably will have trouble finding a good one at this late date. How about one more, you and me, I prove your ass wrong. [Crowd pop for the challenge. Brown laughs again.] QB: Gee, Wild, I don't know. I think the fans might have seen enough of you and I to want to watch another match... unless, of course, there was something on the line... say, a shot at the World Title? [Crowd pops as Brown breaks into another wide smile.] YGW: You got it. You and me, Gold Rush, I'll put my shot on the line. But understand this. I will set records for high flying like you've never seen. I may cripple myself doing it... but in the process, I'll kill you. [Heel pop for Wild.] QB: Do what you gotta do. But you might want to lighten up. You'll get an ulcer acting like that. [Brown laughs again as he steps behind the curtain. Wild paces a few more times, then storms from the ring backstage, for once ignoring the fans heaping venom on his head.] AM: Talk about sour grapes, Youth Gone Wild won the series but he's not satisfied with it and wants to upstage Quinn at Gold Rush. I think it's going to be tough to top what we saw tonight, I still say I've never seen a move as spectacular as that 720 splash Quinn pulled off. SS: See now, that's why Wild is angry. AM: Boo-hoo. DR: Our next match is a mixed tag contest between the newest tandem in the UWF, Dan Kauffman and his new manager "Erotic" Erin McCoys, against "Legacy" Luke Sampson and Satin Sheets, two people who most definitely want revenge on the golden couple. AM: You can say that again. There was an incident earlier tonight between Erin and Satin, take a look. ["Taped Earlier" comes up on screen. The camera pans to the backstage area where a makeshift photo studio has been set up. This little studio will be used for promotional photos leading up to the Gold Rush pay per view. The photographer furiously snaps his camera at his subject. Who is his subject this evening? The beautiful blonde bombshell, "Erotic" Erin McCoys! Erin is on her cloud nine in front of the camera. She is wearing a white sequined tube top along with shiny white hot pants and white boots. She also has a large white fur top hat on. Her long blonde hair is pulled into two low riding ponytails. The photographer stops.] PHOTOGRAPHER: All right, that was great. I'm sure we've gotten what we needs. ERIN MCCOYS: [smiling] As always. PHOTOGRAPHER: Good luck tonight in your match. ERIN MCCOYS: [rolls eyes] Please. [Erin turns around and runs face first directly into the next person in line for pictures... SATIN SHEETS~! Satin lets out an indescribable groan, as she towers over Erin McCoys herself. She is ready for the photo shoot as well, he long brown hair subtlety curled. Satin's makeup is even much more prevalent than in recent months. She takes a few steps back, the heels of her slides clicking against the floor. Dressed in a vibrant Chinese lipstick red wrap dress with a halter slingback top and a low cut back, Satin just stares down the self-impose.] SS: Well, well... I'm amazed the camera hasn't broken yet, Erin. At least you didn't shatter the lens. EM: Well, if isn't love's BITCH herself. [smiling] Gee Satin, I don't think I had to chance to tell you face to face how sorry I am you and Dan's little love affair didn't last. Judging from Daniel though, I don't think he's too sorry in the least. You must have taken it easy on him while you two were together. The first night he was with me? Total animal. [get right into Satin's face] The only word I can think of is 'stamina'. SS: Honey, let me tell you. I don't take it easy on any man. Dan does have stamina, but of course you have to match that stamina, sweetie. I don't think you would ever be able to do it. Besides, Dan's aggression might just be that way because he could crush you with his pinky. But in any case, you spread your legs for anything with a twig and berries. [Satin smiles, shifting her weight onto one leg, placing a hand on her hip.] SS: Besides, with this get up right here I'm surprised Dan is humping your brains out right here. Is that all you wanted him for, Erin? The sex? Gosh... you should have gone after him right after his wife died then. Have some respect for the man. And as for your little "managing" stints... well, hate to break it to you, but you are just fresh meat. EM: See Satin, that's where you being as stupid as you look comes into play. I couldn't care less about the sex. I care about giving him the one thing you could never do.. the world title. It must eat you alive at night to know that you failed the one man who put himself on the line for you time and time again. Gosh, I don't know how I would be able to sleep at night! [Erin pats Satin on the cheek sarcastically.] EM: And to think, tonight you and him will be opposite sides of the ring. Who takes care of you now Satin? Who's your knight in shining armor now that Dan finally wised up. Want to know what makes you and me different besides the fact I'm a size 2 and you are a size 12? You _needed_ Dan. He was your meal ticket. I on the other hand need no one expect myself. Dan's with me because he wants to be. [Erin smirks.] EM: I'm sure you and Sampson will be a fine team though. I'm sure you trust him _completely_. [laughs] SS: The only reason Sampson is on my side of the ring is because your boytoy Beeby placed him there. He thought this a fun little game to play. And, it will be fun. Only I'll be laughing. As or a meal ticket... honey, I've always been my own. You know rightly well Dan was the first man ever to show any kind of affection that way for any woman in UWF. And you got jealous. So you wanted it for yourself. [Satin smirks too, this time at Erin.] SS: You're nothing full of lies and deceit, Erin. You'll end up digging your own grave one of these days. And I'll be around to bang you on the head with a shovel. [Satin pushes her hair behind her ear.] SS: Dan can fight is own battles. The only reason I'm in the ring is to get it through your bleach-dyed skull that a) that outfit is completely terrible, b) that I need just myself, and Sampson can deal with his own affairs, and c) it's not longer about Dan. Once he gets what he wants, you'll drop him faster than a man can come in your pretty lil panties. It'll be me versus you. No strings. Just fair payback for the hell you've put me. [Erin flips her hair a little and plays with a long strand in-between her fingers. She doesn't even seem to acknowledge Satin.] EM: Are you almost done on your soap box? Good because I've got better things to be doing with my time right now then spending it with you. I'm going to break it down to you one time. I am better then you.. _plain and simple_. You will never beat me Satin. I took your man, I took your chance to become women's champion, and tonight I'm going to take your career. Get ready for a long night Satin. [Erin pushes past a completely pissed of Satin Sheets. Fade to the ring.] DR: And now we have Peter Phillips standing by with "Legacy" Luke Sampson, folks. [Peter Phillips walks through the locker room area of Morton Stadium until he reaches his desired destination, the infamous big grey door that reads LUKE SAMPSON. The Irish fans begin to scream and chant as Peter pushes the door open and walks inside, the crowd roars even louder as we get a shot over Peter's shoulder of Luke Sampson's muscular back. Sampson does step exercises using a bench in the middle of his dressing room. Luke is dressed for combat, black licorice tights, black boots, black knee pads, and a black elbow brace on his right arm. His hair is soaked and hangs wildly as opposed to the neat ponytail he usually sports in the dressing room. Luke continues to step up and down on the bench at a rapid pace as Peter approaches.] PP: Luke Sampson, in just a little while you team with Satin Sheets to face Erin McCoys and Dan Kauffman. What are your thoughts leading into this match? [Sampson steps up and down a few more times before stopping on top of the bench. There he stands towering above Phillips, sweating, and scowling. Luke jumps off the bench and immediately starts doing squats.] LS: What do I think? Better yet, how do I feel? I feel just a little bit, no strike that, a lot pissed off Peter. You want to know why Peter? [Phillips just stares at Sampson for a moment before Luke explodes at him.] LS: Do your GOD DAMN job and ask me why. [Peter now seems very nervous as he stutters.] PP: W-why? LS: One, because I'm in a mixed tag team match and you know I hate these matches. No disrespect to Satin Sheets, she's a nice woman, but they tried to rope me into that friggin' Valentine's Day event the last two years and I told them to kiss my ass. Why? Cause I'm an athlete, not a side show and while the women do some great things in the ring against each other, there isn't a woman alive who is athlete enough to be my partner in a wrestling match. I hate, hate, *hate* mixed tag matches and while a couple of people in the back and have a good laugh at this rib against Luke Sampson, Dan Kauffman won't be laughing cause I'm going to take it out on him. [Sampson goes from doing squats right into some knuckle push ups.] LS: Two, Dan Kauffman decided he was going to walk out here last week with Erin McCoys after we went to war and he was going to treat me as if I was some prelim bum. He wants to brush me off like I was some sparring partner used just to prep him for the world title shot. All you had to do Dan was recognize what kind of war you were in, all you had to do was be man enough to admit it was one of the hardest nights of your life, all you had to do was show me some respect and maybe I just would have wanted to beat you in the return and not rip your head off. You made a mistake Dan, just like I made a mistake when I let go of the Legacy Lock to go frolic with the little slut bag you call a manager. [Sampson stops doing push ups and gets to his feet, he begins ringing his hands slowly.] LS: I never make the same mistake twice Dan. Tonight if I get my arms locked on you, I will not let go. If the building begins to collapse I will not let go. If you spontaneously combust, I will not let go. If terrorists invade the building, I will not let go. I will not make the same mistake twice and the pain you suffer at my hands tonight will ensure you're never dumb enough to disrespect me again. Erin and her big mouth, you and your big mouth, it made the beating you had due become that much more vicious. And Erin, if you get in my way, I won't hesitate to put the Lock on you either. Show your brains bitch, let me do my deal with Kauffman, let me show him you and the world just who the better man is and you might not get stretched. [Sampson turns around and with a primal yell kicks the bench in his dressing room over. He turns back to Phillips his face flush with anger. His voice is now intense and filled with gravel.] LS: Is Reed trying to screw with me? Is she jerking me around to keep me good and pissed for Courtade? She wants to be cute and book mixed tag matches when she knows full well I won't be satisfied until I get Kauffman back one on one. Don't try and play head games with me Sarah. 'Cause that makes you an enemy of mine and that is the last thing you want to be. [Phillips stares at Sampson for a moment and opens his mouth as if to speak, but no words come out. Sampson is clearly agitated.] LS: Spit it out. PP: Speaking of Chris Courtade, a lot of people think you took your own life into your hands by attacking that psycho last week in the Congo. [Sampson's lips curl into a smile, but not one of a happy man, it's more sick and twisted.] LS: Chris Courtade has done a lot of damage in the UWF. Chris Courtade is a sick human being. Am I crazy for jumping on his back? Am I out of my mind for starting a brawl with him? Perhaps. Chris Courtade has done plenty of damage. We've seen him hit people with title belts, cut people with shards of glass, hit people with chairs, slam their heads into doors. Chris Courtade has been on an unstoppable rampage, abusing people, injuring people with everything and anything that isn't nailed down. [Sampson raises his hands up to eye level, palms facing out.] LS: Chris, you like weapons... as for me I have no use for them. You see I've spent the last 17 months injuring, crippling, and altering careers and lives with nothing but these two hands. So let me ask you Chris? How are you going to pick up those weapons you like to use so much... [Sampson clasps his hands together and the camera zooms in on them.] LS: when I use my two weapons to take away the use of your arms. Chris, the rampage stops at Gold Rush. Your North American title reign stops at Gold Rush. Things will change drastically at Gold Rush because for the first time in your entire run in the UWF, the big bully gets in the ring with one of his own kind, but not only am I a bully myself, I'm also the big bad bully beater upper. [The camera pans back up to Sampson's face, his hazel eyes filled with a quiet rage and intensity.] Chris Courtade is out of control, but Peter let me ask you a question. Who is more dangerous? The man who commits random acts of insane violence for the sake of pleasure and enjoyment? Or the man who commits premeditated and calculated acts of violence for his perverse pleasure and enjoyment? My strategy is simple tonight I'm going to stretch Dan Kauffman and at Gold Rush I am going to stretch Chris Courtade until a piece of his anatomy snaps off in my hands. This is my company Courtade and I'm going to show you exactly why in Japan. Your brush with greatness is going to be a flaming disaster. This interview is over. [Fade to the arena.] DR: That would pretty much say it all, wouldn't you say? AM: Just about. Dan Kauffman, Erin McCoys, you're about to have a brush with greatness. _____ _ _ _ _____ .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.| | | | | | __|.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. Saturday Night Rampage| | | | | | __|Saturday Night Rampage |_____|_____|__| MIXED TAG TEAM MATCH: "Legacy" Luke Sampson and Satin Sheets versus Dan Kauffman and "Erotic" Erin McCoys -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- Writer: Erin Binkley DR: They say personal matters make some of the most interesting matches in wrestling. If that be true, I have a feeling this next one is going to be a classic because you don't get much more personal than this one. SS: What's so personal about this? Dan traded in Satin Sheets for Erin McCoys. It's like with cars, you trade in for the better kind. AM: You are such a pig it's not even funny. SS: What?!??!? I'm just putting it into a perspective that the people can understand. In Ireland's case, it would be like trading in a cheap nasty beer for a really really good one. DR: Sam's horrible metaphors aside, there's some hatred in this match that runs very deep. Sampson is itching for revenge on Kauffman and we all know he has no quam about this hands on Erin McCoys if the opportunity presents itself. SS: Yeah the sick bastard. He just wants to cop a feel. DR: Earlier we saw Erin and Satin Sheets exchange some not so pleasant words. I'm interested to see these two vixens go at it. SS: You would be you dirty ole man! You just want to see poor Erin maybe get her clothes ripped off! Again! DR: I could shelve $6 bucks out and get a copy of Playboy if I want that. SS: May I add that my copy is laminated and hanging on my wall? AM: Is it easier to clean up that way, Sam? SS: That was just uncalled for. When you start getting all hot and bothered when Sampson comes out, don't come crawling to me for a pity boink! [SLAP! The lights go out, and stay out for a couple of seconds as the arena buzzes... then, the guitar chords to Lenny Kravitz's "Are You Gonna Go My Way" blast across the arena. After four bars of the song... ___________________ BANG! ___________________ Pyrotechnics erupt near the entranceway, and dark blue spotlights cast down upon the standing forms of Dan Kauffman and "Erotic" Erin McCoys. Kauffman scans the crowd, hands on his hips, his face a mask of concentration and years of experience ... and also of confidence. Erin smiles seductively and proudly as she looks towards Kauffman and then towards the crowd.] # I WAS BORN LONG AGO # # I AM THE CHOSEN I'M THE ONE # # I HAVE COME TO SAVE THE DAY # # AND I WON'T LEAVE UNTIL I'M DONE # [Kauffman and McCoys begin their walk down the aisle, hand in hand, as a heel pop descends. Kauffman simply looks out at the fans, his face never wavering, his eyes never dropping. Kauffman is dressed in his usual wrestling attire, Black leg-length tights with white, thin lightning bolt-like lines running down the outside of both legs and black wrestling shoes with "DK" stenciled in white. Erin is dressed in her standard cheerleading outfit; a black and blue licorice halter top, pleated skirt with blue in the pleats, and black go go boots. Her long blonde hair is curled and pulled up into a high pony tail with a blue ribbon.] # SO THAT'S WHY YOU'VE GOT TO TRY # # YOU GOT TO BREATHE AND HAVE SOME FUN # # THOUGH I'M NOT PAID I PLAY THIS GAME # # AND I WON'T STOP UNTIL I'M DONE # [Kauffman, still an athletic marvel even at age 34, hops up onto the apron and vaults over the ropes inside the ring, before hopping to the second turnbuckle and looking out across the crowd ...] # BUT WHAT I REALLY WANT TO KNOW IS # [___________________ BANG! ___________________ Now pyrotechnics go off around the ring as Kauffman raises both his arms way up in the air, looking high into the sky.] # ARE YOU GONNA GO MY WAY # # AND I GOTTA, GOTTA KNOW # [The lights come back up, and Kauffman hops off the turnbuckles and walks straight up to Erin McCoys, his intense look of concentration intact, though Erin herself smiles. Soon enough, Kauffman looks out into the crowd, smirking, then turns his attention to the match at hand.] SS: If I didn't hate Dan Kauffman so much, I'd say they made a cute couple! I do think his new personality change is refreshing though. DR: I blame that She-Devil for that. SS: You can't blame a man for wanting a taste of the erotic experience! DR: I think Ms. Sheets and Mr. Sampson can and I'm going to enjoy seeing the golden girl get what's coming to her. ["American Woman" by Lenny Kravitz blasts over the loudspeakers! The crowd instantly pops approvingly as the lovely, Satin Sheets enters the arena! She is dressed in her usual black leather catsuit that is also decorated with very tiny pieces of silver glitter. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail and silver glitter is accenting her beautiful eyes. Satin stops at the top of the ramp and stares towards Erin and Kauffman.] DR: What a horrible thing for a woman to have to go through. SS: And what a lucky thing for a man! [Erin is seated on the top turnbuckle with Dan leaning against her in between her legs. Erin rubs Dan's shoulders and blatantly kisses him on the forehead so Satin sees it. Satin closes her eyes and shakes her head, Erin's mind games obviously effect her. A look of pure anger enters Satin's face as she makes her way to the ring and awaits her partner.] DR: Erin is a manipulator, there's no doubt about that. I just have a feeling that tonight she's going to get a dose of her own medicine. AM: It's got to be horrible for Satin to see her ex with another woman! SS: Talking from personal experience Amy? Do you get jealous every time I'm with someone else. AM: I only get jealous when I see you with your right hand because that's the only thing you spend your weekends with. [RIMSHOT~!] DR: That was rough. I liked it though. # ALRIGHT PARTNER... YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS # [With that the crowd leaps to its feet as ROLLIN by LIMP BIZKIT begins to blast over the PA SYSTEM and LUKE SAMPSON scrolls across the UNITRON in Rocky style. When Sampson's name clears off the screen a large explosion goes off in front of the entrance and through the smoke emerges "THE LEGACY".] DR: Think this man wants another piece of Dan Kauffman? AM: That's no man, he's a Mechanical Animal, Dave. Part beast, part machine. He's one of the toughest, most resilient, and technicially proficient competitors in the history of this company. SS: In other words, you think he's hot. [SLAP! Sampson marches down the aisle wearing licorice black, short trunks, black boots, black knee pads, and a black elbow brace on his right arm. The intense, almost ferocious scowl on his face coupled with his long hair hanging loosely does give him an almost animal presence on this night. Luke enters the ring and gives a quick nod to his partner, but it is clear he only cares about one thing tonight. Getting his hands on Kauffman. Sampson stretches on the ropes and almost looks through the referee while getting final instructions waiting for his return shot with the legend.] DR: It's going to be interesting to see how we start this match up. Sampson has no problems with Satin Sheets but to say he is less then thrilled to be in a mixed tag match is an understatement. SS: I think Luke has problems dealing with women. I mean the only reason he wanted Erin as a manager was so she could be his maid and now he's partnering with the lovely Satin Sheets and is angry about it? I don't get it. He needs to take my class on how to deal with women. AM: Oh yeah cause you are the master Sam. [Satin Sheets seems to jump the gun a little bit and decide she is starting off the match. Luke Sampson seems like he wants to debate this matter but begrudgingly steps to the side. Kauffman smirks over to Erin and lets her in there. The crowd pops as is evident that the two women are going to start things off!] DR: Erin seems very confident as she climbs into the ring with Satin. SS: She should be. She's a two time former champion remember? She created women's wrestling in the US! DR: Okay, let not give her too much credit here, Sam. AM: Yeah, my sister helped a lot! SS: Oh yeah right. [Satin and Erin start circling each other. Suddenly, Sampson reaches over the top rope and tags himself in! Satin's head whips around in shock as she's forced to leave the ring. Sampson just smirks and climbs over the ropes. Erin's mouth drops open as she stands face to face with the Legacy.] SS: RUN AWAY! DR: What a strange predicament we are now in huh Miss McCoys? [Erin takes one look at Sampson and RUNS to her corner. She does a baseball slide over to Kauffman and quickly tags him in much to the amusement of the crowd. Kauffman and Sampson exchange looks before Dan climbs into the ring and meets Sampson in the center.] DR: And here we go! Sampson fires a left hand to Kauffman, Dan responds in kind. Dan with another, but Luke delivers a second shot. Now both men are letting loose! Dan with a kneelift into Sampson, and now a side chinlock. [Kauffman controls his opponent and applies an abdominal stretch, but it's not long before Luke executes a hiptoss and sends Dan crashing to the canvas. Erin stomps her foot in anger as Luke turns to her and smirks, which allows Dan to roll him up from behind. 1 -- Sampson escapes quickly and blasts Dan in the side of the head, then lifts him up and executes a bodyslam into the mat. As Kauffman attempts to rise to his feet again, a massive sledgehammer blow to the back sets up for a vicious Exploder suplex into the canvas!] AM: Cover! One! Tw- But Dan Kauffman kicks out. I guess his skill is the same even if he is an entirely different person every other way. SS: He's more lethal than ever. Erin brings out the best in her men. AM: So far she's watched 'her man' get his ass kicked. DR: Sampson with a half Boston crab! And Dan is forced to squirm to the ropes. [As the referee breaks the hold, Sampson rises and then suddenly drops a knee into the back of his opponent. Dan convulses in pain, and Luke drags him back onto his feet and sets up for a Northern Lights suplex. Dan stops him with a sharp fist to the ribcage, then swings around and hits a snapmare right into a dropkick to the back of the head. Dan applies a chinlock while leaning into Sampson, forcing him to sit hunched over as the blood flows away from his head. Erin claps in approval, and as Dan drags Sampson up again, he suddenly drives him straight down into the canvas with a modified reverse DDT! A lateral press gets him a count of two, but Luke sits up and forcefully tries to get back to his feet.] DR: Sampson into the ropes, reverses it and sends Dan in. Sleeperhold! Now Luke lets go, lariat! That almost took Kauffman out of his boots! SS: Erin should not have to watch that! That must be an illegal version of the lariat! AM: In your dreams, Sam. SS: You wish you were there, Red. [Luke drags Dan to his feet once again and throws him into the ropes, but Dan ducks a clothesline this time and comes back with a desperation flying bodypress that sends both men crashing to the mat near Satin in the corner. Satin reaches down and tags herself in, before climbing through the ropes and grabbing Kauffman by the head. POP!] AM: Here we go! Here we go! DR: Satin Sheets has waited for retribution this long, what does she ha- Erin just nailed Satin from behind! McCoys with a russian legsweep, snaps Satin into the mat. Damn her! [McCoys hops back to her feet, smiling and doing a little grind over the prone form of Satin. As she does this she fails to notice Sampson return to his feet, and he grabs her by the back of the skirt and tosses her out over the top rope to the outside apron! HUGE POP!] SS: Abuser! Abuser! AM: Oh don't even start. DR: Dan is lifting Satin Sheets back onto her feet as Sampson goes back to his own corner. Bearhug from the number one contender. And there's little Erin in the corner, throwing another tantrum. [Indeed she is, screaming at the referee and pointing across the ring to Sampson as Satin struggles to free herself from the bearhug. Kauffman hangs on tightly, but slowly she's able to place her arms inside of his, and then a knee into the groin frees her long enough to execute a snapping belly-to-belly suplex! HUGE POP! Satin drops to one knee, and then grabs Dan's arm. Cross armbreaker by the New Yorker, and Dan struggles to the ropes to cause the referee to break the hold. In the corner, Sampson shouts to his partner, what might be construed as words of encouragement by some. Satin releases the hold and drags Dan to the corner, tagging Luke in again to another pop from the audience.] DR: Double suplex by Sampson and Satin! Dan Kauffman is completely out of his element tonight. AM: It just hasn't been Erin's night, has it? SS: Leave the poor girl alone. She's had a rough life. AM: Oh just shut up now. [McCoys continues to complain to the referee from her corner, and takes her eyes off the ring long enough to respond to a catcall outside the ring. Bad move...] DR: SATIN FLIPPED ERIN INTO THE RING! [McCoys somersaults over the ropes and lands on her butt hard, with a rejuvenated Satin Sheets standing over her and looking for blood. The Bombshell is hauled back onto her feet and whipped into the ropes for a hard backdrop to the mat, while Sampson executes a dragon screw legwhip to take Dan down right next to Erin.] DR: Well isn't that cute? Double legdrop from Luke and Satin! AM: I'd say poetic justice. [Satin drags Erin back to her feet and sets up for the Satin Bomb, but Erin resorts to her old bag of tricks and catches her opponent with a low blow that drops Sheets to her knees. An Erin Kick lays her out flat, and the Erotic One suddenly grows brave, saving Kauffman from the Brush with Greatness by jumping on Luke's back with a sleeper!] DR: Big big mistake! [Sampson flips Erin off of his back by yanking a handful of golden hair, and she lands with a thud again. On her knees and begging for mercy, Luke glares down at her and starts to push her aside, when she tries to hit a low blow on him too. Sampson jumps into the air to avoid it, and then grabs her by the hair and sends her crashing into the mat with a suplex! HUGE POP!] AM: Erin paid the price! She got into the face of the Mechanical Animal and got chewed up! DR: Watch out for Kauffman! GERMAN RELEASE SUPLEX ON LUKE SAMPSON! [Kauffman gets back to his feet as Luke grabs the back of his head, and Dan attends to Erin, helping her to the corner again. But Satin's still in the match also, and grabs Dan from behind with a waistlock. Instinctively he pivots and smashes her with a reverse elbowsmash to the face, causing her to drop. As he turns to see who it really was, a surprised look crosses his face, and he goes to help her up as well. Small package out of nowhere.] DR: ONE! TWO! TH- KAUFFMAN KICKED OUT! But he came awfully close to being suckered in by Satin! AM: He deserves it. SS: You just hate all men, don't you Amy? [Satin stands up and stares at Kauffman for a few seconds, then turns and drops Erin with a drop-toe step right into Dan's arms. A dropkick from Satin knocks them both into the corner, and Sheets whips Erin across the ring to the opposite corner. As she runs in and buries a shoulder in, Sampson gets back to his feet and pounds away on Dan's head with a pair of left hooks. Luke tries to pick Dan up into a fireman's carry, but Dan escapes down the back and applies a cobra clutch! Luke turns to face the corner, walks up to the second turnbuckle and sends himself crashing backwards on top of Dan to break the hold. Luke sits up, and Dan tries to lift himself to his feet. His arm is swept out from under him, the hands go around the chin and lock themselves in place...] DR: KAUFFMAN'S IN THE LEGACY LOCK! SAMPSON'S GOT IT HOOKED IN RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING! AM: Goodnight Dano! DR: There's no way he's getting out of the Legacy Lock! It's on too tight. [Satin sets Erin up on the top turnbuckle for a superplex, but Erin manages to thumb Sheets in the eye and knock her to the mat. A moonsault onto Satin leaves her prone, and Erin gets back to her feet and spots Kauffman in the Lock. The Bombshell starts to stomp Luke in the head to get him to break the hold, to no effect whatsoever. The crowd continues to pop heavily as Luke keeps the pressure on, and Erin tries so far as to pull him off by the hair.] AM: Erin's insane to try and provoke Luke like that. She's not going to break the lock... DR: I don't believe it, she's actually trying to put an anklelock on Luke now! And it still has no effect! [Kauffman's eyes are squeezed shut in torturous pain as Sampson's grip continues. Erin's still trying the anklelock on Luke to no success, finally she tries a last ditch effort by yanking on his leg, slowly pulling him towards the outside.] SS: Yes Erin, you're doing it! Strain that back, pump those little legs! DR: Why does that sound so familiar? [Still unable to break the hold off of Dan, Erin climbs to the apron and then scales the top rope. She leaps off towards Luke, who spies her out of the corner of his eye and releases Dan... Only to grab Erin in midair with the very same maneuver! ENORMOUS POP!] DR: LEGACY LOCK ON ERIN MCCOYS! HE'S GOT IT! OH MY GOD! AM: AND LOOK AT SATIN! SHE'S HIGH UP ON THE TOP ROPE! FLYING SPLASH ONTO DAN KAUFFMAN! ONE! TWO! THREE! YES YES YES! SS: NOOOOOOOOO! [The audience finally explodes as "Rollin" hits the PA system. Luke releases the Legacy Lock on a terrified and pained Erin, gets back to his feet and looks towards his partner, a dark expression on his face. Dan lies completely still, Satin on her knees beside him with her arms raised in the air. Sampson glares at Satin, and pulls his arm away from the referee as he tries to raise it up, and storms out of the ring.] DH: Here are your winners... SATIN SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETS AAAAAAAAAAAAND "LLLLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEGACYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY" LLLLLLLLLLLUUUUUUUUUUUUKE SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMPSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON! [Sampson begins to walk up the aisle to the back as the crowd tries to hi-five him, and Satin leaves a few seconds later. Finally Erin and Dan are left to limp out, the boos defeaning as Erin comforts Dan with an arm around his shoulder. They dissapear, and we fade to the announcers.] DR: What an unbelievable match we just witnessed. Satin Sheets and Luke Sampson getting a measure of revenge over Dan and Erin here a week before Gold Rush. SS: That Sampson is a nutjob! He needs to be locked up for assault and battery you know. How dare he put his hands on the Blonde Bombshell? DR: She had it coming to her, and I for one am glad somebody finally put her in her place. AM: He didn't look too thrilled that Satin was the one who got the pin on Dan though, you notice that? He was so intent on gaining revenge and beating Dan here, I don't think that satisfied him. DR: Dan's not going to have any momentum going into Gold Rush now either, Luke could have torn his shoulder all to hell with the Legacy Lock. I'd be very surprised if he goes into the show at one hundred percent. ["Southside" by Moby and Gwen Stefani starts up to a loud pop, and once more tonight President Sarah Reed makes an entrance.] DR: And here's the UWF President once again, [She stands up on the staging area, as so not to waste any television time while the ring crew goes to work putting the cage together.] SR: Hello again, ladies and gentlemen. Before you get settled in for tonight's main event, I'd like to finalize the card for Gold Rush 2001 one last time. Inside Hell In A Cell, "His Majesty" John Williams will face "Too Cool" Chris Hopper, and the winner of this match will receive a shot at the Rampage Championship on an upcoming show. The Harlequins will defend their World Tag Team Championship against Team Canada, because of Team Canada's win in the turmoil match last weekend. "Crimson" Joe Reed and "Dark Horse" Randall Osbourne will get to settle their fued once and for all, and they'll do it in a Last Man Standing match. [POP!] "Agony" Michael Augustine will meet "Sudden Death" Shane Matthews one on one as well. Judging by the match you just saw, those two want to get their hands on each other. The Suicide Blondes are going to put their North American Tag Team Titles on the line at Gold Rush, when they take on Happy Hardcore 2101. Youth Gone Wild will face Quinn Brown one last time, with Wild's shot at the UWF Championship on the line as well as the moniker of best daredevil. [POP!] Tigress will defend the Women's Championship against "Superstar" Stephanie Harper, and the other pieces of the Sun Belt Angels, Sleek and Seductive, put the Women's Tag Team Championship up for grabs against the Bod Squad and also against Melody and Satin Sheets, S and M. Cruiserweight Vice-President Kyle Lee announced his decision earlier, but once again it will be "Incredible" Idol Austin, the Prophet, Eugene "High Society" Robinson and Tragedy fighting it out in a four corners for four titles contest. "Cold Blooded" Chris Courtade will face "Legacy" Luke Sampson for the North American Heavyweight Championship, in a match I hope gives Mr. Courtade a little humility. I have also decided to make a match between the Ghost Dancers and the men who have been harrassing them for weeks now, this Japanese tag team called Drillbit Sumo and the Dark Banshee. In a three way dance, "The Walking Contradiction" Sabbath, Nick Demola and Alex Extreme will meet to settle the issues that have arisen between them. As it pertains to the tag team contest between the Fraternity Boys and the Machines, I have decided to make the match a Towel Match. [POP!] DR: Oh my! SR: In the Frats' corner the towel will be held by Rebecca Marshall, and in the Machines' corner it will be Jessica Marshall. AM: OH DEAR GOD. DR: And after this match President Reed has said they will not fight each other for at least six months! SR: And finally, last but not least, the Gold Rush main event has Scott "Hotspot" Daniels putting his UWF Title on the line against Dan Kauffman, one on one. SS: That's assuming he gets past this match tonight. DR: The odds don't look to be in favor of Scott Daniels, but who's pulled out more upsets and more impossible victories than him? SR: Thank you very much, and please enjoy the rest of the show. [Sarah walks backstage, and the ring crew puts the finishing touches on the cage.] AM: Looks like they're ready. DR: I'm betting Daniels, Austin and Courtade are as well. _____ _ _ _ _____ .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.| | | | | | __|.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. Saturday Night Rampage| | | | | | __|Saturday Night Rampage |_____|_____|__| STEEL CAGE MATCH FOR THE WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP: Scott "Hotspot" Daniels[c] versus "Incredible" Idol Austin versus "Cold Blooded" Chris Courtade -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- Writer: Mike Beeby DH: The following contest is a three way dance for the World Heavyweight Championship, and will be fought inside of a steel cage! [POP! The ring crew is putting the finishing touches on the cage, as the lights dim and "The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove" by Dead Can Dance begins to play over the loudspeakers.] DH: Introducing first, from Beverly Hills, California, weighing in at two hundred and thirty-nine pounds, he is the current Cruiserweight Champion of the World... "IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINCREDIBLE" IIIIIIIIIIIDOL AAAAAAAAUUUUUUSTIIIIIIIIIN! [A fireworks display sets off, and a spotlight shines to the back entrance portal. Idol Austin emerges from the back, dressed in full black tights with gold trim and "IA" on the matching black boots. He carries the cruiserweight title in his hands and raises it into the air, further antagonizing the crowd as he approaches ringside. He removes his pre-match attire, a black jacket and a pair of sunglasses, handing them to the attendant along with the title. And then as Austin steps into the cage, a screaming voice echoes out...] # AAAAAAAARRRRE YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU RRRRRRRRREAAAAAAAADYYYYYYYY! # ["Blind" by Korn explodes over the PA system, as the entire building begins to boo.] DH: Next, from Dallas, Texas, weighing in at two hundred and sixty-five pounds, the current North American Heavyweight Champion... "COOOOOOLD BLOOOOOODED" CHRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIISS COOOOOOOOURTAAAAAAAAADE! [Courtade enters the building to an even louder round of boos than before, dressed in his customary faded bluejeans, arms out to the sides in crucifix position, red tape around his wrists. The North American Title is dragged behind him as Courtade walks to the ring, handing it to the attendant before stepping through the cage door. Austin watches Courtade warily, but as Kid Rock's "Back From The Dead" hits the speakers, both men turn to the entrance with deadly intent.] DH: And the champion! From Minneapolis, Minnesota, weighing in at two hundred and fifty-six pounds, the Heavyweight Champion of the World... SCOOOOOOOOOOOOOTT "HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTSPOT" DAAAAAAAAAAAAANIEEEEEEEELLLLS! [A huge pop rises as Hotspot charges out from the back at full speed, darting down the ramp and shedding the World Championship Title from around his waist as he runs. Vaulting to the cage wall he climbs halfway up before Courtade runs straight into it, trying to shoulderblock him off. Daniels hangs on, and scales right to the top where he has to contend with a waiting Austin, taking a punch to the side of the head.] DR: No rest for our champion! Chris Courtade and Idol Austin are meeting Scott Daniels at the very top of the cage! SS: No sense waiting for him to come to meet them at full strength. Go get 'em boys! [Daniels is caught and prepped for a double superplex by Courtade and Austin, when the N.A. Champion doublecrosses Austin and instead takes him down to the mat with a vicious reverse neckbreaker! HEEL POP! Daniels is able to get inside the cage in the meantime and jumps off the top rope with a big kneedrop into Idol. As soon as Scott gets back up Courtade charges him right into the wall of the cage with a bigtime spear. Daniels struggles back up and Courtade hooks him for a suplex, snapping him over lightning quick. As the crowd quickly starts to boo him again, Courtade gives the front row members of the audience the finger.] AM: No respect for anybody. Courtade, you can go to hell. SS: If he goes, he's gonna take a lot of people with him. DR: A cover by Courtade! One- Austin breaks it up though! [Idol Austin takes Courtade and brings him back to his feet by the head, executing several knife-edge chops before throwing him into the ropes. A sleeperhold works Courtade to one knee before Austin releases the hold and elbows the base of his neck instead. Idol drags him back to his feet and unleashes a knife-edge into the corner, but Daniels rises back to his feet and charges in with a clothesline right across the back of the head. Austin is hooked and taken down with a back suplex, and the champion tries for the cover. 1 -- 2 -- Idol makes an escape, as Courtade grabs his leg and flings the cruiserweight titlist out from under Hotspot.] AM: Courtade doesn't want Scott to win, and he doesn't want Idol Austin to show him up and take the upset either. It's him or nothing. SS: That's fair. DR: Courtade with a leg grapevine placed on Idol Austin. And Scott Daniels applies one on the other leg! SS: HEY! [As the crowd laughs at Austin's pain, Courtade gets infuriated and releases it to elbow Daniels in the face. He too releases the hold and both men return to their feet, throwing punches back and forth between them. Austin sneaks up behind Courtade and rolls him up into a small package, but Scott breaks the count after just one, stomping on Austin's head. Pretty soon all three men are back on their feet, firing punches in every direction possible.] DR: Normally the champion has the advantage with countouts or disqualifications, but in a steel cage this is literally anyone's for the winning. [Austin and Daniels are backed into a corner by Courtade, and both come out swinging, hitting the North American Champion right between the eyes. Courtade goes down, and Austin instantly turns on Daniels, nailing him with a reverse elbowsmash. He sets Scott Daniels up on the turnbuckle and brings him down with a superplex crashing into the mat! Idol starts to scale the cage wall, but Courtade is right there with a low blow to bring him back to earth. Chris sets up and delivers a northern lights suplex, but then turns his focus back on Daniels.] DR: Chris Courtade is intent on becoming champion right here in Dublin, as he drags Hotspot to his feet once more. Side headlock, and throws the champion headfirst into the wall! AM: I think Scott just got busted open a little bit. [Courtade decides to widen the gash in Scott's forehead by raking him along the chain link.] SS: I think he just got busted open a lot. DR: This certainly won't help him retain the title. Courtade with a swinging neckbreaker to the mat, and a cover! One! Two! Thr- Austin breaks up the pinfall though! Uh oh, as this match continues there is a disturbance in the back, we got cameras back there let's see what the hell is going on now. [The scene cuts backstage, the door to Sarah Reed's office is busted off its hinges and a loud clatter is heard from inside. The shot shakes as the camera man runs into Reed's office to find Sarah standing against the wall, her desk turned over, her chair flung across the room, papers everywhere... and an extremely pissed off Luke Sampson towering over her.] LS: This is complete horse[bleep] Reed. I've had just about all I can take of getting jerked around by this company. I've been doing things the right way, I've been going out and winning matches and I continue to get ignored by you. Chris Courtade threatens you with violence and gets a title shot. Austin Idol gets a GOD DAMNED title shot and I haven't gotten jack [BLEEP]. There is only so much a man can let slide before he has to take matters into his own hands. If you wanted to push me over the edge tonight, you did it. First the [BLEEP] with Kauffman and now this? You want Courtade's blood? You're going to get it. You want me pissed off? You helped me make a decision Reed and I am letting you know right now. Whatever I do from here on out, whether you or the UWF approves of it or not. Whatever I do from here on out, I will do with no remorse. [Sampson fires Sarah's chair back across the room again and storms towards the door.] LS: Every sorry son of a bitch in this locker room is getting title shots before me, it's a load of trash. It's complete garbage and you know it. [Sampson looks towards the camera man...] LS: Get the hell out of my face. [With that Sampson shoves the camera man over and the picture blanks out, the shot goes back to the ring.] AM: Oh boy... That's not good. [Austin grabs Courtade by the head and immediately takes him over with a snapmare, before applying pressure with a chinlock and then into a surfboard. His arms stretched out to the side, Chris attempts to power out but with his leverage gone he's stuck in the middle of the ring in the submission hold. Austin holds the move long enough for Daniels to recover, sneak up from behind and execute a reverse DDT straight into the mat. Courtade spins around, and Daniels takes him down too with a Thesz Press to a loud pop! Hotspot looks up and starts to climb, ignoring the blood as it streams down the sides of his face. Just as he reaches the top of the cage, Courtade grabs onto him by the leg and keeps him from climbing out. Daniels drops down a rung or two and then kicks Courtade in the face, then leaps off and lands on top of Chris with a flying bodypress to the mat. 1 -- 2 -- Courtade kicks out forcefully!] DR: The champion is really doing everything he can to keep Courtade down, but he's got to watch out for Idol Austin as well. AM: If Austin wins the UWF Title tonight, I'm quitting. SS: No fair. Announcers are supposed to be completely unbiased, and I'm already leaning towards Idol. [SLAP! Idol returns to his feet and grabs Daniels from the back, but Scott swings around and catches the cruiserweight champion with an atomic drop. With Idol on rubber legs, Scott snaps him to the canvas with a side russian legsweep, then hooks a leg. 1 -- Courtade dives in and breaks things up, and Scott punches him square in the face. Hotspot picks himself up and drags Courtade to his feet, as Austin grabs the cage wall again. Daniels throws Courtade into Austin and both men hit the wall hard enough to stagger them. Austin is caught in a bodyslam and Courtade grabs Daniels by the waist, rolling him up from behind.] DR: We have another cover! One! No! AM: Dammit, it's Robinson! [Eugene Robinson, Austin's Dynasty partner, makes his way down the ramp to ringside as Idol hauls himself up, and catches Daniels with a savate kick to the jaw. The champion goes down and Austin starts to climb again at the urging of his friend on the floor, while Courtade crawls on top with the cover. 1 -- 2 -- Austin hits a flying axehandle off the turnbuckles to break the pin attempt up in time, and then grabs Courtade's leg.] SS: Idol and Eugene have titles already, wouldn't it be something if they could add the Heavyweight Championship to the mantlepiece? AM: Once again, he wins and I quit. DR: Austin with a half Boston crab applied, but Scott's beginning to stir. Clothesline knocks Austin off! [The UWF Champion grabs Idol and smashes him face-first into the cage wall, trying to bust him open just as Daniels himself was busted open. Before he can break skin though, Courtade rises to his feet and smashes both men into the wall. Austin turns around, and is caught with a boot to the stomach and a front facelock.] SS: DOUBLE UNDERHOOK DDT! DR: And one for Hotspot too! Chris Courtade is on the verge of pulling an upset here! [As the hostile crowd gets even louder with it's boos, Courtade drags Austin and stacks him on top of Daniels, then puts a foot on top of his chest. 1 -- 2 -- But Daniels twitches, shoving Austin and Courtade's foot off, to a loud pop! Courtade grabs Austin and prepares to hit the move on him again, but Eugene grabs Idol's arm from outside the cage and holds him to the wall so he can counter. A kick to the ribcage and Austin drives him skull-first to the mat instead!] AM: IDOLATRY! AUSTIN HIT HIS FINISHER! DR: ONE! TW- HOTSPOT BROKE THE PIN! [Daniels lifts Austin to his feet and spins him around, hooking him by the waist. Austin grabs for the wall to steady himself, and Daniels delivers a wicked low blow to release the grip. As he stumbles back, Scott executes a german suplex and bridges into a cover. 1 -- 2 -- Austin kicks out, and Daniels gets right up to work on the leg with another grapevine.] AM: I just don't trust Eugene Robinson out here. SS: Well, you're an untrusting soul. AM: [pointing at the rapidly approaching Dark Harlequins] Hey, so are they! DR: TRAGEDY AND THE PROPHET! [Robinson is caught unaware as the Dark Harlequins attack from behind, sending him into the cage wall to a big pop from the irish crowd. As Tragedy applies the Tragic Ending, the Prophet gets the attention of Austin, staring him right on the face as he lies on the mat near the side of the cage. Courtade stomps Daniels in the middle of the stomach in the meantime and pulls him up, throws him to the ropes and hits a backdrop. Scott rises immediately, but a Brow Splitter sends him right into semi-consciousness! HEEL POP! Courtade stands over Hotspot, sneering, and then slowly reaches down and grabs him by the hair.] AM: Fight back Scott! Come on! DR: Courtade's got him... JUST ANOTHER STATISTIC! JUST ANOTHER STATISTIC PLANTS DANIELS! [Courtade DDTs Scott into the mat as the Prophet reaches in through the chain link and begins to choke Austin with a rope. Chris climbs the wall as Hotspot lies motionless in the middle of the ring. As he climbs however...] AM: SAMPSON! SAMPSON! SAMPSON! DR: LUKE SAMPSON IS UP THE SIDE OF THE WALL! WHERE DID HE EVEN COME FROM?!? SS: NOOOO! [Sampson surprises Courtade at the top of the cage, as "Legacy" hangs on with one arm and blasts the North American Champion with his other elbow! The Roaring Elbow sends Courtade sailing all the way back to the canvas, hitting with a rather large thud as the crowd explodes! _____THUD!_____ Taking advantage of this, Daniels struggles back onto his feet and pulls a barely moving Courtade up just long enough to strike him down with the Pride Breaker! POP!] DR: Scott Daniels is headed for the cage door! Austin's being choked out by the Prophet and Courtade just fell from the top of the cage... DANIELS EXITS THE CAGE! [Hotspot lands on the arena floor after climbing through the door, and "Back From The Dead" starts up over the PA system.] DH: Here is your winner, AND STILL UWF CHAMPION... SSSSSSSCOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTT "HOOOOOOOOOOTSPOOOOOOOOOT" DAAAAAANIIIIELSSS! [Sampson continues climbing over the side of the cage after Courtade, as the Prophet enters the cage. The crowd pops loudly as he hits the Golgotha Driver, and on the arena floor Daniels has his arm raised by the referee... ___CRACK!___ And hits the ground, his own championship belt having been driven into the back of his head.] DR: GOOD GOD, KAUFFMAN LEVELLED DANIELS! WE NEED SECURITY OUT HERE! AM: A week before Gold Rush and things are chaotic here in Dublin! The Harlequins are assaulting Dynasty, Luke Sampson is going after Chris Courtade and Dan Kauffman is trying to give himself every advantage for the Gold Rush man event! SS: What a plan! WHAT A PLAN! DR: We'll see you at Gold Rush! Goodnight everybody! [Fade to black, with Dan Kauffman holding the UWF Title, standing over the unconscious form of Scott "Hotspot" Daniels. Fade.]