[The high-tempo heavy guitar riff of Black Sabbath's "The Mob Rules" thrashes away as we see footage from previous RCW matches...] # Close the city and tell the people that # something's coming to call # Death and darkness are rushing forward to # take a bite from the wall, oh [...Mark Coleman and Danny Daniels hitting Kolya Sudakov with a flying shoulder tackle... Coleman powerslamming Daniels... Sudakov pounding away at Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc in the corner with the Violence Party...] # You've nothing to say # They're breaking away # If you listen to fools... # The mob rules # The mob rules [...Bailey Fitzgerald flooring Nickolai Trevianski with a dropkick... Johnny Pleasence slamming Fitzgerald face-first into the broadcast table...] # Kill the spirit and you'll be blinded, # the end is always the same # Play with fire, you burn your fingers and # lose your hold of the flame, oh [...Madrock the Irrepressible shoving Owen Curtis to the mat... Liam Cassidy being dropped throat-first on the ringside crowd barrier... Trevor Lansing sending Madrock to the outside with a flying spinning kick... Cassidy landing a big haymaker on Lansing, sending him flying...] # It's over, it's done # The end is begun # If you listen to fools... # The mob rules [...Nolan Dorado hits a flying legdrop on Vinny Carmazzi from the second turnbuckle... Carmazzi clotheslines "Pistol" Paul Driscoll to the outside... Dorado moonsaults off the top turnbuckle onto Driscoll and Carmazzi on the outside of the ring...] # You've nothing to say # Oh, they're breaking away # If you listen to fools... [...Driscoll launching Dorado over the top rope and to the outside with a German release suplex... Jake Andrews coming off the top rope and felling Carmazzi... Dorado hitting Driscoll with a flying leg lariat off the top rope...] # Break the circle and stop the movement, # the wheel is thrown to the ground # Just remember it might start rolling and # take you right back around [...Paul Driscoll and Vinny Carmazzi going nose to nose in the centre of the ring...] # You're all fools! # The mob rules! [...the logo crashes onto the screen in an explosion of sparks and flame:] ___ ______ __ ___ ___ __ ______ ___ _________ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / _ \/ _ | / |/ / _ \/ _ |/ ___/ __/ / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / / , _/ __ |/ /|_/ / ___/ __ / (_ / _/ /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ /_/|_/_/ |_/_/ /_/_/ /_/ |_\___/___/ LIVE! Rose Garden, Portland, OR Thursday 23 March 2006 [And as the song reaches its thrashing climax, cut through to the interior of Portland's Rose Garden arena, filled with cheering fans, many waving signs, many pumping their fists in the air as fireworks erupt above the RCW ring in the centre of the floor of the arena, showers of sparks raining down as the lighting rig swirls spotlights over the arena, whipping the crowd up into a frenzy. As the cheers of the fans continue, we hear the voice of RCW lead announcer Don Ditka:] DD: Welcome everybody to the Rose Garden in downtown Portland, Oregon! Welcome everybody to the hottest hour of wrestling action on television! Welcome everybody to RCW RAMPAGE! [The theme music fades as we cut to the broadcast position at ringside, where Ditka sits next to "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare, both men wearing headsets and with the fans behind them stil cheering and holding up signs -- one says "Coleman: *THE* MAN!", another says "COLD HARD TRUTH", another says "CUFF ME MATILDA".] DD: Wow, Billy Shakespeare. This place is *jumping* tonight! BS: "Be quiet, people, wherefore throng you hither?" DD: Let me guess... Macbeth? BS: No, Don -- "The Comedy Of Errors." But the throng here tonight certinly aren't going to be quiet. DD: And we know what's brought them hither -- a night of non-stop wrestling action! We're going to find out which two men will be facing off for the RCW championship two weeks from tonight. We're going to see tag team turmoil. We've got three other blockbuster matches. [Suddenly, AC/DC's "Walk All Over You" thunders out over the PA. Big pop!] DD: And that's our cue to get up to the ring for the first of tonight's matches. Here we go! ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / ROAD TO THE GOLD Second Round Match: /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ "Pistol" Paul Driscoll vs. Johnny Pleasence [Ring announcer Sy Simmons stands in the ring and raises the microphone to his lips.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a time-limit of 15 minutes, and it is a second round match on the RCW ROAD TO THE GOLD! [Big pop!] SS: Introducing first, from Odessa, Texas, and weighing in at 263lbs... "PISTOL" PAAAUUUUL DRRRRRIIISSSCCCOOOOOOOOOOOLLLL! [As the pace of the music begins to pick up, Driscoll strides through the entrance, shirtless, wearing green standard tights, knee pads and boots. His hands are covered in white athletic tape, much like a boxer. Driscoll's wavy brown hair is slicked back with sweat, and he's a sporting the ever-fashionable two days' worth of stubble. He wears a faded denim vest with interlocking pistols on the back.] DD: And here comes Paul Driscoll, folks. This impressive Texan battled his way past "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado, Jake Andrews and Vinny Carmazzi two weeks ago in his first-round Fatal Four-Way match. BS: That match was as tight as could be, Don. Carmazzi had Dorado in the Kimuri Armbar, just moments away from tapping, when Driscoll hit Andrews with his trademark Discus Punch to pick up the victory. DD: Driscoll's Discus Punch is devastating, that's for sure. And you know that Vinny Carmazzi and Driscoll will meet again down the line -- nothing was settled between these two veterans. [The Texan stomps up the stairs and then ducks into the ring, tearing off the vest and tossing it outside, then throwing his toothpick out to the floor as well. As AC/DC dies down, the referee backs Paul into the corner and checks him for weapons.] DD: Driscoll now in the ring, awaiting his opponent... and I understand Johnny Pleasence is still in his locker room, trying to coax Matilda Agutter to accompany him to ringside. [We cut to a shot of Johnny Pleasence's locker room -- or, more importantly, Matilda Agutter pouring a bottle of water on the floor. Pleasence, pacing in the background with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, seems only a tad bit annoyed. Let's see what's going on here!] MA: Drip. Drop. Drip drops! Funny how they look! [Pleasence looks like he could care less.] JP: Yeah. [He takes a drag off of his cigarette.] MA: Johnny, the man made an odd face at me on the tele. He was all sorts of... _leering_. JP: [off-handedly] Which one? MA: The Driscoll one! There's _eight_ of them, you know. That's a lot of skin. And bones. And teeth. [She pauses.] MA: Too bad there's only one of them here, though. Driscoll blood pudding might taste a bit too... "rich" for one's cultured palette. [Pleasence blinks.] JP: Have you... have you been watching the Food Network again? MA: [dreamily] I've been dreaming of flaying Bobby Flay. [Pleasence grumbles, swigging away at a Guinness, and Matilda pouts.] MA: I want a bit of violence of my own, you know. Some bloodletting to call my precious, a broken femur that I can take some credit for... _I want Driscoll_. [Pleasence nearly spits out his beer.] JP: What?! MA: On the ground! Bleeding! Broken! Doomed! Damned! [She suddenly switches gears, smiling brightly.] MA: Would you do that for me? Please with two cherries? [Pleasence looks at his girl, smirking a bit... before shaking his head.] JP: Not worth my time, pet. [Pleasence stubs his cigarette out with his boot.] JP: For the record... I've seen more than a few hundred wrestlers like Paul Driscoll; all talk and no bloody walk. They stumble, slip and fall more than a soddin' three year old... and the only thing they got going for them is that once in a while, they can string together a half-decent sentence and actually make it sound like English. Unfortunately, Paul Driscoll fails on all accounts. Tonight's a waste of my bloody time -- that git's lit'le piece on Off the Cuff or On the Wire or whatever the hell they call the secondary program in this place... anyway, it didn't do anything to get me fired up. It just showed me who _won't_ be champion around this hellhole, and that's Paul Driscoll himself. [Pleasence snickers.] JP: Honestly Pistol, if you wanna be champ, you're gonna have to do a hell of a lot better than slurring your "caustic" words about a great journeyman of the sport such as myself. Sure, I've showed up places only to leave soon after, but in the grand scheme of things, that's scads better than runnin' bar with my family night in and night out and dreamin' about actual sucess in the ring rather than, you know, actually succeeding in this grand sport. The big difference between you and me, mate, is that I know the ins and outs of this business. In that ring, I know how things work -- I can be a bit of a deceitful bastard in that regard... besides, you can't make an omelette without breaking a few skulls in the process, if you know what I mean. [Pleasence lights up a smoke.] JP: My friend, there's more to winnin' gold than saying how you're gonna make your opponent stare at the lights while his girl's cryin' on the outside of the ring. There's a bit more to this business we're in besides lookin' at what a man's physically accomplished in his career while all you've got is dreams and hopes of what could be to see you through the night. You've got to have the _stones_ to pull it off, mate... and considering all you've got is a weak Discus punch... well, you lose. Driscoll, when it comes down to it, you've got no idea where I've been or what I've done, but I'll tell you where I'm bloody well goin'. Straight to the soddin' top. Beatin' you in the ring is only a small, boring part of it. But, maiming you in the process -- well... [Pleasence smirks evilly.] JP: That's just a joy that I won't be denied. Come on, pet, we have to go _now_. [And with that, Pleasence stalks out of the locker room, Matilda in his wake. We cut back to the arena, and see that Driscoll has most definitely heard Pleasence's comments via the wonders of the jumbotron hanging above the entranceway. He paces in the ring, his fists clenched.] DD: Strong words from Pleasence for his opponent tonight, Billy Shakespeare. BS: I daresay it's a plan by Pleasence to rile Driscoll up as much as possible before this match. If Driscoll's not in control of his emotions, it makes Pleasence's job that much easier. [Sy Simmons brings the mic to his lips once more as "Into The Night" by Tommy Iommi and Billy Idol blasts out over the PA, the lights in the arena dropping.] SS: And introducing his opponent... [The lights go back up to full power as the song kicks in, with Johnny Pleasence and Matilda Agutter walking out from the back to a loud chorus of boos. Pleasence looks like he could care less though, as he has a bit of a smirk on his face as he heads down the aisle, idly smoking a Camel Turkish Gold.] DD: Everything Pleasence does seems to be calculated to cause maximum offence, Billy Shakespeare. This is a man who gives all the appearance of not caring one bit about this great sport, about these great fans, even about the title he's here to stake a claim for. BS: He's a difficult man to read, Don, that's for sure. But we saw last week how dangerous he can be, the combination of his Lady Macbeth on the outside and his own willingness to break the rules to the point of breakage on the inside. DD: But this is a different night, Billy. Two weeks ago there was a no disqualification stipulation -- but not tonight. If Pleasence steps out of line tonight, he'll find himself out of this tournament -- and good riddance to him! [Johnny's wearing a black singlet, long black tights with a bold white stripe going down both legs, black boots, and black elbowpads, with a leather duster over his attire; Matilda's got on a blood red dress and is busy amusing herself by making faces at the crowd. The Big Bad takes a quick drag off his cigarette, apparently checking his duster's pockets for his pack of smokes as he heads down the aisle.] DD: Give me a break, Billy Shakespeare. We're only on air for an hour tonight! BS: Pleasence is a master of the mind games. If he's infuriating you, Don, just think how Driscoll's blood must be boiling in there. [Johnny Pleasence rolls into the ring and immediately climbs the second turnbuckle of the nearest corner and raises both arms in the air to a loud round of boos, to which he seems oblivious. Pleasence does his ritual in every corner, despite the jeers and boos of the crowd at every turn, before taking off his leather duster and dropping it outside the ring, and saying a few "nice" words to the ref, who quickly checks his kneepads and boots for weapons, all the while his eyes fixed on Paul Driscoll across the ring.] DD: We're just about ready to get things underway here, folks, as Sy Simmons leaves the ring. Match official Jim Bright signals to the timekeeper... * DING! DING! DING! * DD: ...and it's on! [The crowd cheers in anticipation as Pleasence and Driscoll face each other across the ring. Pleasence is in no hurry to tie up with Driscoll, while Matilda screeches children's songs at the top of her lungs on the outside. And then... Driscoll lunges in, Driscoll and Pleasence with a collar and elbow tie up, Driscoll goes for a side chancery, Pleasence sidesteps... and sticks a thumb in Driscoll's eye! Big heel pop! Bright immediately warns Pleasence, who begs off, pantomiming that he was going for a headlock.] DD: Oh, please. [Driscoll shoves Bright out of the way and cannons into Pleasance, felling him with a lariat, almost with no kind of running start. Big pop!] DD: And some early payback for Paul Driscoll as he nearly takes Pleasence's head off with a lariat! [But Pleasence rolls back to his knees and pulls Driscoll's tights, pulling him down and hot shotting him on the second rope across the throat. Heel pop as Pleasence gets to his feet and immediately stomps away at Driscoll's left knee.] DD: That's the knee Driscoll was shot in, Billy Shakespeare. BS: It's a very good strategy from Pleasence. Driscoll's a power wrestler, he relies on his lower body strength for a lot of his explosive moves. [As Driscoll keeps hold of the ropes, referee Jim Bright forces Pleasence to stop stomping on Driscoll's leg. Pleasence eventually backs off, as Driscoll gets back to his feet, shaking out the numbness in his left leg. Pleasence charges at him -- but Driscoll is wise to it, and backdrops Pleasence... out of the ring! Big pop! But Pleasence has kept hold of the ropes, and lands on the ring apron with his back to the ring, shrugging his shoulders with a smirk to the fans in the front rows, who boo him vehemently. And then... Big pop!] DD: Oh my! Driscoll just *nailed* Pleasence with a running forearm! [Pleasence flies off the apron and has a hard landing, clattering against the steel crowd barriers at ringside. Driscoll is straight out after his British opponent, despite Jim Bright's protestations. Driscoll brings Pleasence to his feet -- and Pleasence lashes out with a facerake, causing Driscoll to stagger backwards, and Pleasence unloads on him with a big clothesline, sending Driscoll to the thinly-padded floor with a thump. Big heel pop!] DD: It didn't take long for this one to degenerate, Billy Shakespeare. Official Jim Bright is making the count on both men... if this match ends in a double countout, the Curtis vs. Coleman match later tonight will effectively be for the RCW championship! [As if he heard Ditka's words, Pleasence rolls back into the ring. There's a pop from the crowd as a spotlight picks out a figure emerging from the curtain at the head of the aisle.] DD: Who's that? Somebody's coming out here! BS: It's Vinny Carmazzi, Don. Carmazzi is coming out here -- presumably to keep an eye on Driscoll. There's certainly some tension between those two. [Indeed, Carmazzi stands at the head of the aisle, his arms folded. He makes no move to come down the aisle to ringside, apparently content to watch the proceedings from a distance. Pleasence rolls back out of the ring as Driscoll comes to his feet, to be confronted by the staring Matilda Agutter, who says something to Driscoll that the cameras don't pick up. Driscoll seems momentarily distracted by Matilda, allowing Pleasence to hit him with a clubbing blow to the shoulderblades from behind. Pleasence spins Driscoll around, and *snaps* him to the padding again with a DDT! Big heel pop!] DD: Pleasence is firmly in control here in the early going -- but I wonder how well he'd be doing if this match was actualy taking place, you know, *inside the ring*? BS: Official Jim Bright needs to get this one under control. [Pleasence picks Driscoll up, jawing with the angry fans in the front row as he does so, and rolls "Pistol" Paul back into the ring as Bright's count reaches five. Pleasence gets up on the apron and steps between the ropes. He immediately returns to Driscoll's leg, going to stomp on it -- and Driscoll reaches up and rolls Pleasence into a schoolboy! Big pop!] DD: Driscoll with the schoolboy! Driscoll was playing possum! [Bright makes the count... 1... ...and a big heel pop as Pleasence is able to kick out. Both men get back to their feet and the crowd cheer as they once again stare at each other across the ring. This time it's Pleasence's turn to lunge at Driscoll. Driscoll sidesteps Pleasence's charge, and Pleasence comes back off the ropes, Driscoll catching him and powerslamming him to the mat! Big pop!] DD: Great rotation on that powerslam from Driscoll, but Pleasence is right back to his feet! [Pleasence charges at Driscoll again, this time leaping with a clothesline-cum-neckbreaker that takes Driscoll down to the mat hard. Big heel pop! Driscoll rolls to his feet as Pleasence puts the boots to Driscoll's right arm. But the Texan fights to his feet and takes a swing at Pleasence with a fist -- and connects! Driscoll forces Pleasence into the corner, peppering him with punches and forearm strikes, and the crowd is really heating up as Driscoll continues to unload on the Brit. Soon referee Jim Bright steps in, and puts the count on Driscoll.] DD: Driscoll can't afford to get disqualified here, Billy Shakespeare. [Bright eventually effectively steps between Pleasence and Driscoll, pushing Driscoll away from the corner -- but Driscoll evades Bright and charges in... only to be met by a low blow from Pleasence! Big heel pop!] DD: Oh, come on! Bright didn't see that blatant low blow?! [Apparently not. Pleasence again returns to work on Driscoll's left leg, now grapevining it and jawing at his downed Texan opponent. On the outside, Matilda appears to have located Owen "Truth" Curtis's drunken gang of fans, and is trying to lead them in a chant of "I wanna be sedated!" The frat boys are happy to oblige, and Matilda claps like a delighted toddler. In the ring, Driscoll powers out of the grapevine with his free leg, and rolls to his knees as Pleasence reels back -- and fells Driscoll again with a chop block!] DD: Pleasence is just relentless in going after that left leg of Paul Driscoll, Billy Shakespeare. BS: You can fault his attitude, but you can't fault his strategy, Don. [Pleasence again stomps on Driscoll's left knee, and then wraps it up in a figure four leglock! Big mixed old-school pop from the crowd! Driscoll's face is etched in a grimace of pain as Pleasence shouts to Matilda to bring him a cigarette. Matilda obliges, pulling one from Pleasence's duster and lighting it in a puff of smoke before she flips it around so that the lit end is in her mouth, and slides into the ring. Pleasence grins and takes the filtered end of the cigarette from Matilda, who slides out of the ring as Pleasence leisurely takes a drag.] DD: Give me a break! Pleasence is showing his opponent absolutely no respect here. And, damn it all, he's showing the health and safety regulations of this building no respect, either! [Bright checks on Driscoll, who refuses to submit, while Pleasence continues to smoke. The fans start to get behind the Texan, a chant of "LET'S GO DRISCOLL!" followed by the traditional claps starting to pick up around the arena. This seems to energise Driscoll, and he clenches his fists and tries to roll Pleasence over.] DD: Come on, Driscoll! Roll him over! Roll Pleasence over! BS: Good to see your impartiality is alive and well, Don. DD: Well, come on, Billy Shakespeare. I've been in and around this great sport of ours for more than twenty years, and I can't remember the last time I saw a man locked in a figure four leglock while his opponent smokes a cigarette. You think that's conduct becoming of a champion in waiting? BS: No, Don, I don't -- but you can't deny that Pleasence is extremely effective. [As the "LET'S GO DRISCOLL!" chants grow in volume, Driscoll finally manages to turn Pleasence over to a big pop! Pleasence clenches his teeth, his cigarette dangling precariously from his mouth, and is finally forced to release the hold. Both men get back to their feet, but Pleasence is fresher, springing at Driscoll with a clothesline, his cigarette still in his mouth. Big heel pop! Pleasence takes another drag on his cigarette, bounces lazily off the ropes, takes a couple of steps into the middle of the ring, and then... and then, well, falls onto Driscoll elbow-first.] DD: What in the name of all that is good and holy was that, Billy Shakespeare?! BS: He calls that the Pleasantries from England, Don. BS: This is without a doubt the worst, laziest elbow-drop I have ever seen in my life. [Meanwhile, Matilda has got up on the apron and is ranting in the direction of Jim Bright, who turns his attention to the woman on the apron... allowing Pleasence to stub his cigarette out on Driscoll's chest! Big heel pop!] DD: Oh -- come *on*! That's a disqualification right there! [Driscoll is furious, and fights his way to his feet, apparently the rush of blood to his head innuring him to the pain that must be shooting through his left leg, and absolutely blasts away at Pleasence with forearms and punches, the crowd cheering on his every strike and blow. Pleasence is forced back into one corner of the ring, and then Driscoll Irish whips him across the diagonal with such force that Pleasence flips upside down and ends up hanging off the top turnbuckle on the opposite side of the ring. Huge pop as Driscoll charges after him!] DD: What a head of steam from Paul Driscoll here, and -- oh! What a knee to the midsection! [Pleasence remains hung up on the top rope, and Driscoll blasts away at Pleasence's midsection with stomps and kicks. The crowd is going crazy as Pleasence takes blow after blow to his chest and throat, Driscoll finishing off with a hard kick to Pleasence's face! Mixed pop from the crowd! On the apron Matilda is going bananas, and jumps down to the floor to rush around to the corner where Pleasence is hung up. Bright turns his attention back to the ring, and immediately moves to drag Driscoll away from Pleasence, who with Matilda's help is able to free himself from his precarious position, and he sits in the corner of the ring, his back to the turnbuckles, wiping blood from his nose.] DD: Good god -- Driscoll may have broken Pleasence's nose with that kick to the face, Billy Shakespeare. BS: It looks very much like it. There's quite a bit of blood. [The red mist appears to have lifted from Driscoll now that Bright has forced him away from Pleasence, and as he moves back into the corner after his opponent, he is once more favouring his right leg, apparently now feeling the pain in his battered left leg more. As he moves in to pull Pleasence out of the corner -- Pleasence once again sticks a thumb in Driscoll's eye, staggering the Texan backwards. Pleasence pulls himself to his feet using the top rope, and in fact climbs to the second turnbuckle, then leaps out of the corner with a clothesline, felling Driscoll! Big heel pop as Pleasence hooks the leg... 1... 2... ...and Driscoll kicks out! Big pop!] DD: Driscoll still has some gas left in his tank, Billy Shakespeare! [Pleasence brings Driscoll back to his feet again and sends him to the ropes. Driscoll ducks Pleasence's neckbreaker attempt, and... and hits Jim Bright! Big ref bump pop!] DD: Oh, this can't be good, Billy Shakespeare! Our match official has just been knocked through the ropes and to the outside by Paul Driscoll. [Driscoll turns back to face Pleasence, who is opportunistically charging at him, but Driscoll is quick enough to catch the chargin Brit and drive him to the mat with a spinebuster! Big pop! Driscoll immediately pulls Pleasence back to his feet and lifts him up onto his shoulders... then flings him away with a Samoan drop! Another big pop! The crowd begins to chant "DRISCOLL! DRISCOLL! DRISCOLL!" as the Texan once again brings the reeling Pleasence to his feet -- and punches him square on his broken nose! Big eye-watering pop!] DD: It's payback time, folks! [On the outside, Matilda has grabbed a steel chair from the timekeeper's table, and tosses it into the ring. Big pop as it clatters to the canvas. And then Matilda throws another chair into the ring, Driscoll ducking out of the way. Driscoll looks down at the felled Pleasence, clutching his nose, and looks at the chairs in the ring. The crowd cheers him on.] DD: I think Matilda was trying to hit Driscoll with those chairs, folks, but she's effectively given him not one weapon, but two! [Driscoll cracks a rare grin and grabs one of the chairs off the canvas. He waits for Pleasence to get to his feet, apparently setting him up for a big swing... but Pleasence dives at Driscoll's midsection before the Texan can bring the chair down, knocking the chair from his hands. Big heel pop! Pleasence is quickly back to his feet, grabs the nearest chair, and wastes absolutely no time in... * CLANG! * ...bringing it down on Driscoll's left leg! Big heel pop as Pleasence repeats the favour, not once, not twice, but three times!] * CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! * DD: Give me a break! Pleasence may cripple Driscoll for life with that chair! BS: We really need the official back in the ring to bring some order to this match, Don. [Pleasence looks down at Driscoll, and looks at the chair in his hand -- then lifts Driscoll's leg and places the chair underneath.] DD: What's Johnny Pleasence doing now?! BS: I'd be willing to bet it won't be pretty. [Pleasence steps through the ropes and onto the apron, then slingshots himself over the ropes, an impressive somersault from the rangy Brit as he flies over the ropes, his leg outstretched...] DD: He's going for a modified Big Bad Darwinism! He's going to drop the leg on... NO! [Big pop as Driscoll rolls out of the way at the last moment, Pleasence landing hard on the chair. Driscoll grimaces as he stands, his left leg clearly bothering him a great deal. Driscoll brings Pleasence to his feet, and his face betrays the pain he feels as he kicks Pleasence in the midsection with his left boot, doubling the Brit over... and then brings him up in the air with a gutwrench... and *down* again with a powerbomb, onto the steel chair! Big pop!] DD: Driscoll lays out Pleasence with a powerbomb on that steel chair! BS: And look at Matilda out here -- she brought the weapons to the fight, but I guess she didn't want them to fall into Driscoll's hands. [As Matilda tears at her hair, Driscoll goes for the cover on Pleasence. The crowd chants "ONE! TWO! THREE!", but there's no official there to make the count. Driscoll looks around in frustration, and then rolls from the ring to try to revive Jim Bright, who is still a little groggy on the outside. Driscoll rolls Bright back into the ring, and makes the cover on Pleasence once more. Bright makes the s-l-o-w count... 1........... 2........... ...but Pleasence gets a shoulder up! Big heel pop!] DD: Driscoll had Pleasence beat! That powerbomb knocked Pleasence for six, but by the time Driscoll got referee Jim Bright back into the ring, Pleasence was able to beat the count. BS: It's a tough break for Driscoll -- and with his leg in that condition, the longer this match goes, the more it favours Johnny Pleasence, despite Pleasence's seemingly-broken nose. [Driscoll slaps the mat in frustration, then rolls gingerly to his feet and brings Pleasence to his feet, sending him into the ropes. And as Pleasence comes off the ropes, Driscoll goes for a spinebuster on his opponent... but his left leg gives way!] DD: Oh my! Driscoll's leg just gave way, and both men are down. Both men are down, and I'm not sure Driscoll can continue with this match! [Jim Bright gets back to his feet and starts to count both men out... as he reaches the count of three, Pleasence starts to stir, again wiping blood from his nose, his face an ugly sight of dried and drying blood as he gets to his feet.] DD: I may not like Johnny Pleasence, but I can't deny that he is a tenacious competitor, Billy Shakespeare! BS: Both of these men have gone at each other at 150 miles per hour in this match, Don. Both men want to be the first RCW champion! [Pleasence pulls Driscoll to his feet, and sends him into the ropes... but Driscoll's left leg is so weak that as he comes back off the ropes, he stumbles to one knee, pain etched on his face. Ever the opportunist, Pleasence pounces, cinching up Driscoll and lifting him up... huge heel pop!] DD: JOHNNY SPIKE! JOHNNY SPIKE! [Driscoll's body crumbles to the mat as Pleasence drops him with his trademark cradle piledriver. The crowd are absolutely livid as Pleasence immediately lifts Driscoll up again...] DD: AND ANOTHER! TWO JOHNNY SPIKES! [Huge heel pop as Pleasence rolls onto Driscoll to make the cover. Bright is there to make the count... 1... 2... ...3!] * DING! DING! DING! * [The crowd is baying for Pleasence's blood as he rolls out of the ring and into the waiting arms of Matilda, who is jumping up and down excitedly.] DD: I can't believe it, Billy Shakespeare. Two Johnny Spikes from Johnny Pleasence, and he is just one match away from becoming the RCW Champion... unbelievable. [As the bloodied Pleasence heads back up the aisle, supported by Matilda, bloody still dripping from his nose, Sy Simmons gives the official word, to a huge heel pop:] SS: Your winner by pinfall... and booking his place in the final match on the RCW ROAD TO THE GOLD... JOHHHHHHHNNNNNY PLEEEEAAAAAAAASSSANNNCE! [The crowd continue to jeer as Pleasence backs up the aisle. As Pleasence passes Carmazzi at the top of the aisle, he flicks blood and sweat from his face at him, but Carmazzi doesn't rise to the bait, allowing Pleasence to pass and shaking his head as he watches him leave. Meanwhile, in the ring, Driscoll now stirs, and pull himself to a sitting position in the corner of the ring.] DD: Just look at the disappointment on the face of Paul Driscoll, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Driscoll *needed* this victory, Don. It's a feeling I can absolutely empathise with. Driscoll is a fierce competitor and he's driven by capturing the RCW championship. DD: Well, Driscoll may not end up as the first RCW champion, but I certainly wouldn't bet against him capturing the title down the line. BS: Absolutely, Don. Driscoll is an incredible second-generation competitor. [Driscoll rolls under the bottom rope and to the outside, shrugging off the offered assistance of match official Jim Bright as he moves gingerly into the aisle -- and then raises his head as he realises that the near-capacity crowd in the Rose Garden are cheering for him and changing his name.] "DRIS - COLL! DRIS - COLL! DRIS - COLL! DRIS - COLL!" [Driscoll nods his head almost imperceptibly in recognition of the fans' ovation as he makes his way up the aisle. The fans in the arena are on their feet as Driscoll nears Carmazzi.] DD: These fans showing tremendous respect to Paul Driscoll after his defeat here tonight, Billy Shakespeare, and... hang on, he's coming up on Vinny Carmazzi, who has been watching this whole match from the head of the aisle. BS: And look at that -- Carmazzi is applauding Driscoll too, along with all the fans. [Driscoll barely acknowledges Carmazzi's applause as he continues back to the curtain and out of the arena, Carmazzi and official Jim Bright following behind him. Cut to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: What scenes here in the Rose Garden tonight, Billy Shakespeare. On this night his leg has let him down -- but I'm certain we'll see Driscoll back in the hunt for gold here in RCW before long. BS: That was an incredible battle between two very tough customers, Don. Pleasence has two weeks to prepare himself for perhaps the biggest match of his career, against an opponent to be determined here later tonight. DD: Will it be rookie Mark Coleman or Oregon's own Owen "Truth" Curtis squaring off against Pleasence two weeks from tonight in the final match on the ROAD TO THE GOLD? We'll find out later tonight. Folks, we have to take a brief commercial break, but we'll be right back with more action after these messages. [Fade to commercials.] [As we fade back from commercials, we see that the RCW ring has been covered with a great red carpet, two Australian flags hung up on each side of the ring and two chairs shaped like kangaroos, their big bounding legs acting as armrests. Oh, and just in case you still had your doubts, there's the "Wallopin' Wallaby Welcome show" lit up in lights, acting as a backdrop.] DD: Welcome back to RCW RAMPAGE, folks. This could be interesting -- an interview segment hosted by perhaps the least intelligible wrestler ever to step into the squared circle, Madrock The Irrepressible. BS: I can barely wait to find out who's going to run this particular gauntlet. [Already in the ring is Madrock the Irrepressible, looking almost presentable with a neat bow tie over his mangy t-shirt and his wild locks combed straight for once! The camera pans in to a perfectly groomed pet wallaby, one that Madrock brought in for unfanthomable reasons. We join Madrock now, microphone in hand.] M: A'right now chaps an' duckies, you know 'oo I iz: Madrock the Irrepressible! Da bane uv' Brisbane, da monster from Almunster, da freak up Abbott's Peak! Lemme tell you wot dis 'ere shindig is all about: Itz da Wallopin' Wallaby Welcome show, an' you can search 'igh an' low, above an' below, in desert an' in snow, in loight an' in shadow, but you know, I know, we all know dey ain't no betta show, dis 'eres da pla-TEAU... of 'igh ennertainment. See, dis time I ain't juss gettin' stuff offa my chest, I go outta my way to invite uvver gits so dey sez dere pieces too! Con-vur-say-shun-a-lize, Iz what Itz called! Now you've all 'eard me say dis before, but if dere's one fing dat get's ol' Madrock in a rumble, its hearin' wot foitters dat don't juss give up on da foight... no, dat 'appens sumtimes when dey twist ya up in knots, course Madrock nevva quits... no, I'z talkin' 'bout a foitter dat near up done gave up... on 'imself!!! Ladies an' gents, I'd like ta innerduce BAILEE FIZZJERRUL!!! # Soy un perdetor # I'm a loser baby, # So why don't you kill me [Bailey Fitzgerald comes down the aisle to the strains of Beck's opus, but not before Madrock gets his lips back on the mic, easily drowning out the theme music.] M: Now see, our boy 'ere s'been beat up so many times, 'ee don't know what it's like to walk around havin' lights above him instead of starrin' down at iz face! If 'ees lookin' like a sad puppy it'z because he's been a Charlie Brown all uv' 'iz life! Yeah, 'ee needs some luv but dis dog is boned cuz we ain't offerin' sum T.L.C., we don't deal in dat Brokeback Mountain hoo-haw, but wot we do 'aff, an wot we got, is heaping spoonfuls of TUFF LUV!!!! I'm talkin' granny table spoonfuls! Now you just mosey down dere an' grab a seat, make your tush all cushy an' keep one 'fing in mind: if you fink ya 'ad it 'ard before, yoo ain't know nuffin' yet! 'Fings are juss gonna get tuffer, gonna get 'arder; but when you're froo wif me, you'll learn ta live it, learn ta love it, ask fer more an' seconds too! Cuz dat's 'ow da story goes, we only get ta read about it but if you don't intend ta live it, den all we gots are a book full uv' blank pages an' I got a receipt dats askin' fer a refund! So Bailey, why doncha talk 'bout yerself? [Fitzgerald raises an eyebrow and shoots Madrock a peculiar glare.] BF: Because my name's not Jake Andrews, Mad. That's why. [Pop!] BF: But all kidding aside, Rock -- I appreciate you lending a hand down here a couple weeks back against that Russian fella. By no means should you feel like you need to keep a watchful eye over the likes of this rook, but thanks anyway. But it is always nice to see an Aussie stick his neck out just to yank someone else's out of the fire. M: But ya see Bailee, I'm talkin' 'bout walkin' TALL -- Taller den ya've evva walked before! Don'cha want da boys uv' da RCW ta fear yer every step as ya stride accross da Portlun' plains? Don't ya want ta be like da Cockatoo island beast an' be rekonnized... as a force ta be rekoned wif? BF: Oh believe me when I tell ya, Mad, I know what you're trying to do here. But if you're lookin' to groom someone to be like yourself and run in there at two-hundred miles an hour throwin' haymakers every which-a-way and just kicking ass, taking names... you got the wrong guy, chief. That just ain't me. M: Yeah I gots da wrong guy cuz yer wrong, guy! Listen 'ere Charlie Brown, if ya didn't came 'ere ta WIN, den ya juss wastin' all uv' times! Dat 'eavyweitt belt iz juss like dat Red 'Aired Girl: itz da diff'runce between yoo bein' a big great winner an' bein' a great big weinner! It'z ded' simple, only one fing ya gotta do an' dats 'free fings: ya gotta FIGHT! Ya gotta KICK ASS an' ya gotta WIN! BF: You know what? Scratch that! [Face pop!] BF: I've been backing down from battles the better half of my adolescence and adult life, and I think you hit the nail right on the head, Madrock, when you said... [Fitzgerald shoots an eye at Madrock.] BF: ...To Hell with that noise. [Pop!] BF: Tonight, I've got a match with Ryan Faith. Faith, if you came here looking to jump start your ego by bullying around some young pup, then I suggest you tuck your tail and head back behind that curtain. 'Cuz you aren't going to find your test subject in this ring. Eh-eh. Not on this night. M: Dat's da spirit, Bailee! Now get out dere an' kick dat townee's bum! [Madrock and Fitzgerald shake hands, and the crowd cheers as "Loser" kicks in again.] DD: Madrock the Irrepressible: motivational speaker! BS: Has Madrock taken Bailey under his wing, perhaps, Don? DD: Perhaps he has. Certainly Bailey Fitzgerald seems to have been galvanized by Madrock's encouragment here tonight -- and we'll see whether that translates into a victory when Bailey faces off against Ryan Faith later on. [Bailey and Fitzgerald head up the aisle together, both men slapping the fans on either side of the aisle.] DD: Folks, we'll be right back after these messages with our next blockbuster match-up! [Fade to commercials.] ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy vs. /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ "The Unbreakable" Trevor Lansing [Fade back to Sy Simmons, standing in the middle of the ring, which has now been cleared of all the Antipodean paraphernalia.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall with a 10-minute time limit. Introducing first... ["Revolution Revolution" by Il Nino kicks in over the PA, and the crowd gives a mixed pop as the curtains at the head of the aisle are thrown aside and a figure strides out into the aisle.] SS: ...making his way to the ring, hailing from Tacoma, Washington, and weighing in at 212lbs... "THEEEE UNBREEEEEEAAAAKABLE" TREEEEEEEVVVOOORR LAAAAAAAAAAANNSIIIINNNG! [Lansing strides down to the ring, his cotton robe flaring out behind him as he walks. Lansing rolls into the ring and immediately removes his robe and throws it to the outside as he begins to warm up in the ring, awaiting his opponent.] DD: Two weeks ago, Trevor Lansing blamed the man he's about to face for allowing Owen Curtis to advance to the second round of the RCW ROAD TO THE GOLD tournament. BS: Lansing may have a point, Don. Liam Cassidy has absolutely no wrestling experience, and he was out there with three tough competitors. [We cut to the back, where young intern Jamie Bond is standing by, clutching a microphone while standing in front of a RCW giant logo.] JB: Good evening, everybody! This is Jamie Bond standing by here in the gorilla position, where I have seen no gorillas. Nor have I seen "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy, who is supposed to be making his entrance momentarily... [Young Mr. Bond is interrupted, as none other than Cassidy stumbles onto the set. Cassidy is dressed to kill, wearing a white wifebeater undershirt and a pair of tattered blue jeans. His black fedora hat covers his greasy and unkempt sandy blonde hair. In his hand, he has a bottle of some sorts, but it is concealed by a paper bag. He's not even looking at Bond. His head is turned as he yells to someone off-screen.] LC: This guy here, you say? [Liam finally turns and faces Jamie.] JB: Mr. Cassidy. LC: Hey lad! How's she goin'? I'm told you want a word with me. [Cassidy finally looks over to see the camera.] LC: Woah. You guys have them things everywhere, don't cha? JB: Well, we want to get a word with you concerning tonight's match with "Unbreakable" Trevor Lansing, but really you're already late to the ring. [Cassidy takes a swig of whatever drink it is that he has there. His face sours when he hears Lansing's name.] LC: I'll tell you what I told the other guy there. Tonight, I'm gonna knock the lad out. I don't have any of the fancy smancy wrasslin' moves that most of the fellers here have. But I don't see that as being a problem for teaching that guy a lesson. JB: What do you have to say to the critics that say you have no business being inside the ring? LC: Now who's been saying that? JB: Well... just about all of them actually. LC: Well, they're just a bunch of right buggers now, aren't they? I've been in a ring for... [Cassidy starts counting on his fingers, but gets lost somewhere around the eight mark.] LC: Well, more years than I care to remember. Boxin'. Wrasslin'. It's all the same. A fight's a fight and tonight I'm gonna give that Trevor Lansing feller one he ain't ever dreamed of comin'. Know what I mean? JB: Uh, not really. LC: Not bad. JB: Right. Not bad. Back to you at ringside, Mr. Ditka. [Cassidy winks to the camera as he takes another swig and starts to walk out of shot, only for Jamie to point him in the direction of the curtain that leads out into the arena. Cut back to a wide shot of the arena as Lansing waits in the ring, even more irate than before.] SS: And introducing his opponent... ["Miss You" by Mirwals kicks in over the PA, but nobody emerges into the aisle.] SS: ...hailing from Hackensack, New Jersey, and weighing in at 237lbs, here is... "THE JEEEEEEEEERRRSSEY DRIFFFFFFTER" LIIIIIIIIAAAAAAM CASSIDDYYYYYY! [Finally Cassidy steps through the curtain, receiving a good pop from the fans. Cassidy looks a little bewildered -- is it the alcohol, or is it surprise at the fans' reaction -- as he makes his way down the aisle, slapping as many hand as he can.] DD: Who knew that a hobo-cum-boxer could be so popular, Billy Shakespeare? BS: Now now, Don. [Cassidy poses for a photo for one fan, handing his brown-bagged bottle to said fan as an extra keepsake, and then he makes his way down to the foot of the aisle, where he stops and looks up at Lansing in the ring, a glare on his face. Lansing moves to the ropes and sits on the second rope, pushing up on the top rope, holding the ropes apart to invite Cassidy into the ring.] DD: Looks like Lansing can't wait to get started on this one. [As Lansing awaits Cassidy, the "Jersey Drifter" begins a strange ritual: he takes off his black fedora hat and places it on the floor. He pulls out a hip flask he has in his jeans pockets, and drops it into the hat. He removes a set of brass knuckles from the other pocket and places them in the hat, too. He pulls a few notes and coins out of his back pocket, and drops them in the hat. The crowd are enjoying this, while Lansing is growing ever more impatient.] DD: Good grief, Billy Shakespeare. BS: I can't work out if this is really dumb or really smart, Don. Certainly Lansing's getting riled up in there. [Lansing appeals to official Bobby Belshee to demand that Cassidy get in the ring -- but there's no need, as Cassidy now rushes into the ring and spins Lansing around, the two men standing face to face, Cassidy and Lansing exchanging pleasantries... and the crowd pops huge as Cassidy takes a swing at Lansing, the Tacoma native not quite reacting quickly enough, and Cassidy knocking Lansing on his ass! Big pop!] DD: I'm not sure Cassidy got all of that, but I think that officially -- and finally -- gets this match underway! [Indeed, Bobby Belshee signals for the bell...] * DING! DING! DING! * [...as Cassidy parades around the ring with a big smile on his face, pantomiming a knock-out punch. He turns... right into a Yakuza kick from Lansing that takes him down! Cassidy pops back up, and is taken right back to the mat with a dragon screw leg whip! Cassidy pops back up a third time, and Lansing takes him down with an armbar. Lansing releases the armbar, rides Cassidy amateur-style, and then slaps the back of Cassidy's head for good measure, before standing up and allowing Cassidy to get back to his feet.] DD: If that punch was Cassidy's way of sending a message to Lansing, I think that little exchange was Lansing's reply! [Cassidy and Lansing look hard at each other. Lansing steps up, and chops Cassidy on the chest with a loud *SLAP!* Cassidy looks down at his chest, and the reddening welt that is quickly appearing there, and looks at Lansing, then grins. Lansing lets fly with another chop, and again Cassidy just grins at Lansing -- then jabs a thumb in Lansing's eye, staggering him. Big pop!] DD: Look at Liam Cassidy, shadow-boxing in there, completely ignoring match official Bobby Belshee. BS: One thing I'll grant Cassidy, he's making the most of his fifteen minutes of fame in there. [Lansing quickly comes back at Cassidy with a series of kicks, then sends Liam into the ropes with an Irish whip. Lansing attempts a leapfrog... but Cassidy is nowhere to be found! Cassidy has put on the brakes, and watches as Lansing jumps up in the middle of the ring with a smirk on his face. Then he launches in and actually *clotheslines* Lansing to the mat! Big pop!] DD: Cassidy with a clothesline! BS: An *ugly* clothesline. [Cassidy gets back to his feet and immediately goes back to his shadow-boxing as Lansing pulls himself back to his feet, charges up to Cassidy, gets him in a reverse waistlock... and *tosses* him to the mat with a release German suplex! Pop from the crowd. Cassidy, a little groggy, rolls back to his feet, and is met by a boot to the midsection and then set-up for another suplex... Cassidy goes up, and... Big heel pop!] DD: Brainbuster suplex! Brainbuster by Lansing on Cassidy! BS: Welcome to wrestling school, Liam Cassidy. [Lansing brings Cassidy back to his feet, and goes for another suplex -- but Cassidy lifts a knee and catches Lansing in the groin! Belshee doesn't seem to have spotted the infraction as Cassidy unloads on Lansing, forcing him back into the corner. Cassidy nails Lansing with a hard right hand, and the crowd responds...] "ONE!" [Cassidy looks surprised for a moment, then hits him with a few more punches...] "TWO! THREE! FOUR!" [Cassidy cracks a smile, and continues to pound on Lansing in the corner, picking up the pace of his punches.] "FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TEN!" [The crowd pops as Cassidy scores ten punches on Lansing -- but Cassidy continues to pound away at Lansing, and Bobby Belshee has to step in to drag the confused Cassidy out of the corner.] DD: Bobby Belshee finally stepping in to stop Cassidy there. [Belshee holds up ten fingers to Cassidy, who shouts "Why?!". Belshee himself looks confused for a moment, then shrugs... and the exchange is cut short by Lansing coming out of the corner, grabbing Cassidy's arm and cinching in a hammerlock... then hoists him up and *slams* him to the canvas! Heel pop!] DD: Hammerlock powerslam! [Lansing immediately locks the felled Cassidy into a front facelock, a smile twisting on the corners of his mouth.] DD: Lansing has got Cassidy under control now. BS: I'm sure if this were a boxing match, the referee would instruct Lansing to release that hold -- but this is a wrestling match, so we'll have to see how Cassidy is able to get out of this on his own. [Cassidy manages to get to his knees, but Lansing keeps the hold locked on tight. Cassidy tries to push Lansing off him, pushing him into the ropes, but Lansing tenaciously holds on.] DD: Cassidy may be back to his feet, but he shows no signs of escaping that front facelock! [Cassidy struggles with Lansing's front facelock, twisting this way and that to try and escape -- and then suddenly hits on a plan, lifting Lansing up and over, into a back bodydrop... but as Lansing comes down, Cassidy catches him with an uppercut! Big pop!] DD: Oh my! Cassidy catches Lansing flush on the jaw with an uppercut! BS: I believe he calls that the Pikey Layover, Don. DD: The *what*?! [Cassidy stands over the fallen form of Lansing, but seems content to throw his fists into the air to the delight of the crowd, rather than make the cover to pin Lansing. Official Bobby Belshee starts to count Lansing down.] DD: Why isn't Cassidy going for the pinfall? He could have had Lansing down for the count of five, make that six by now! BS: I... I don't think Cassidy knows he has to pin Lansing. I think he's expecting the referee to grant him a knockout. DD: Give me a break! [Cassidy parades around the ring, drinking in the cheers of the crowd, as Belshee continues to count Lansing down... ...7... ...Lansing finally begins to stir... ...8... ...Lansing rolls to one knee... ...9... ...Lansing gets to his feet! Cassidy stares across the ring at the groggy Lansing, almost in disbelief!] DD: And Lansing is up! Perhaps Trevor Lansing truly *is* unbreakable! BS: Cassidy's all steamed up now, Don! [Indeed, Liam Cassidy charges in -- only to be grabbed in a schoolboy roll-up by Lansing, who holds on tight as Belshee makes the count... 1... 2... ....3!] * DING! DING! DING! * [Lansing releases Cassidy, the two men springing apart, and Lansing immediately rolls to the outside, followed by Belshee, who raises his arm, as Cassidy looks down on his opponent with confusion.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner, by pinfall... "THEEE UNBRRRREEEAAAKABLE" TREEEEEVVVVOOORR LAAAAAAANSING! [Now Cassidy's confusion turns to anger, the "Jersey Drifter" pounding the mat with his fist in frustration as Lansing backs away up the aisle, one hand on his jaw.] DD: Liam Cassidy falls victim to a simple inside cradle, Billy Shakespeare. BS: You don't see a lot of boxers busting out inside cradles, Don. I daresay Cassidy has never seen such a move before. [A very dejected Liam Cassidy paces around the ring while he waits for a microphone, all the while burning a hole through the victorious Lansing as he backs up the aisle. "The Jersey Drifter" is handed a microphone by Sy Simmons, and then addresses the crowd.] LC: So what the Hell was that? [Lansing, still retreating up the aisle, gives a non-committal shrug.] LC: So, let me get this straight. Just because you put my shoulders on the mat long enough for that bootlicker to count to three, you think you beat me? [Lansing agrees, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth.] LC: Let me tell you something, lad. Where I come from, that's not how you win a fight. You win a fight by knocking the other guy out. [Pop!] LC: So I'll tell you what we're gonna do, Mr. Lansing. Next week, I want you back here in this ring. But it won't be no wrestling match. We've done it your way. Next week, how about a last lad on his feet alley fight? [The crowd pops loudly.] DD: Does he mean a last-man-standing, street fight? BS: It sounds very much like it, Don! LC: I'll let you discuss it with the boss man back there, Trevor. But know one thing. Whether you agree or not, one way or the other, I'm knocking you out. [Liam drops the mic and raises a fist high in the air, and points to his opponent. Big pop as Cassidy rolls from the ring and heads up the aisle. We cut back to Shakespeare and Ditka at ringside.] DD: Assuming RCW President and interim General Manager of Wrestling Operations Daniel Spreadbury makes that match, Billy, we're going to see Trevor Lansing and Liam Cassidy go at it one more time, two weeks from tonight! BS: Let's hope Cassidy uses the time to learn some fundamentals, and perhaps to take a bath. DD: I hear *that*. Folks, in our next match we're going to see young Bailey Fitzgerald take on Ryan Faith. We've already seen Fitzgerald tonight, getting his pep talk from Madrock the Irrepressible -- let's find out whether it will improve Fitzgerald's chances in this test of Faith. ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / Ryan Faith vs. Bailey Fitzgerald /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Cut back to Sy Simmons, who is once again in the middle of the ring.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall, with a 10-minute time limit. Introducing first... [The crowd cheer as the characteristic guitar riff from Beck's "Loser" kicks in over the PA.] SS: ...making his way to the ring, hailing from Buffalo, New York, and weighing in at 214lbs... BAAAIILLLLLEEEY FITTTTTZZZZGEEERRAAAAALLD! [Fitzgerald walks out into the aisle. He smiles as he looks around at the near-capacity crowd.] DD: Bailey Fitzgerald looks significantly more confident than he did two weeks ago, Billy. BS: It's all about experience. Fitzgerald had never wrestled before a crowd of this size when he stepped through those curtains two weeks ago. But I have to say, the day you don't get a buzz as you walk out into the aisle and see all these thousands of people here to watch you wrestle, that's the day to hang up your boots. DD: And, of course, Fitzgerald was exhorted to walk tall by RCW's resident Antipodean cheerleader, Madrock the Irrepressible, earlier tonight. [Fitzgerald makes his way down to ring, slides under the bottom rope, and bounces to his feet, running the ropes and warming up in the ring. As "Loser" fades, the lights in the arena begin to flash and "God Hates A Coward" by Tomahawk hits in its place.] SS: And introducing his opponent... hailing from Southborough, Massachusetts, and weighing in at 220lbs... RYYAAAAAAANNN FAAAAAIIITH! [Faith strides out into the aisle, wearing his trademark cut-off denim shorts and high black boots. He gets a mixed reaction from the crowd as he heads down to the ring.] DD: This should be a good match-up between these two young men. BS: Right, Don. They're less than a year apart in age, have similarly scant previous experience prior to RCW, and their styles should gel well. [Faith makes his way into the ring and climbs to the corner buckles, pumping his fists in the air to the fans. Faith turns and jumps down into the center of the ring as official Juan Morales speaks to both competitors. Fitzgerald extends his hand to Faith... and Faith accepts. Big pop!] DD: Always a nice sight to see from two athletes, Billy Shakespeare. [Morales signals for the bell as the two men circle each other in the middle of the ring. Fitzgerald and Faith reach out their hands, and lock up in the middle of the ring. Fitzgerald gets the better of the early exchange, putting Faith into a side headlock. Faith pushes Bailey off into the ropes, and Fitzgerald ducks under a clothesline attempt on the return... only to be knocked down by a high kick by Faith on the second rebound! Fitzgerald pops back up, and ducks under another kick from Faith, but Faith impressively spins around on the spot and hits Bailey with a kick from his other boot as it comes back around! Big pop!] DD: Faith showing us his dangerous feet here in the early going! [Fitzgerald again gets back to his feet, a little more slowly this time... and is met by a kick to the midsection followed by a double-arm DDT! Pop from the crowd! Faith leaps into the air with a standing moonsault... but Fitzgerald rolls out of the way as Faith clatters back to the canvas! Big pop! Fitzgerald pounces on the downed Faith, grabbing one of his legs and placing his ankle between his thighs, then lays on top of Faith and locks his arm around Faith's neck, wrenching back. Pop from the crowd!] DD: STF from Fitzgerald! BS: Bailey's trying to slow the pace here. Faith has those explosive kicks and throws, and if Fitzgerald can keep him off his feet, that'll be to his advantage. [Faith tries in vain to power out with his free leg as Morales checks for the submission. Faith won't give up -- and reaches out with his left arm, his fingertips finally reaching the bottom rope! Morales calls for the break, which Fitzgerald immediately gives. Applause from the fans for the clean break.] DD: It's good to see the sportsmanship displayed at the start of this match carrying on after the opening bell. [As Faith pulls himself to his feet on the ropes, favouring his right leg, Bailey steps in and whips him into the opposite ropes. As Faith comes back, Bailey lifts his knee into Faith's midsection, doubling him over, then double underhooks his arms and lifts him up, flipping him and driving him down onto his back! Big pop!] DD: Tiger driver from Fitzgerald! [Fitzgerald hooks his legs onto Faith's shoulders, and Morales is down to make the count... 1... 2... ...and Faith kicks out! Pop from the crowd! Fitzgerald gets back to his feet and pulls Faith up in a rear waistlock... then hoists him up over his head in a German suplex. Fitzgerald bridges to make the cover... 1... 2... ...and again Faith kicks out!] DD: Fitzgerald's use of high impact moves seems to be quite successful at slowing the pace of the match. [Fitzgerald waits for Faith to get to his feet, waiting to charge... and charges in for a running bulldog, but as he launches himself into the air, Faith drops to the mat, and Fitzgerald sails towards the edge of the ring -- big shocked pop from the crowd!] DD: Oh my! Fitzgerald just tumbled between the bottom and second ropes and down to the ring floor! BS: Smart move from Ryan Faith to duck that bulldog attempt -- he must have eyes in the back of his head! [As Faith catches his breath in the ring, Morales puts the count on Fitzgerald on the outside... 1... 2... 3... ...Fitzgerald picks himself back up to his feet... ...4... 5... ...Faith rolls out of the ring, breaking the count, and hits the groggy Fitzgerald with a couple of forearm uppercuts, then rolls Fitzgerald back into the ring. Faith rolls back in behind him, and pulls Bailey to his feet. He locks in a full nelson, and then hoists him up into the air! Big pop!] DD: Dragon suplex! Dragon suplex from Ryan Faith -- and he bridges for the pinfall attempt! [Morales is down to count Fitzgerald's shoulders down on the mat... 1... 2... ...and Fitzgerald kicks out! Big pop! Faith pulls Fitzgerald back to his feet and sends him into the ropes... on the rebound he catches him and busts out a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker, drawing a gasp from the crowd! Again Faith makes the cover... 1... 2... ...again Fitzgerald kicks out!] DD: These two young men are quite evenly matched in this encounter! BS: Neither man is able to keep the advantage for long. It could come down to one man getting punished for a mistake, Don. [Faith brings Fitzgerald back to his feet, and gives him a quick kick to the stomach. He underhooks one arm... then the other...] DD: Faith is going for the Test of Faith! [Faith lifts him up... but Fitzgerald wriggles as Faith lifts him above his head, and he slips out, holding onto one of Faith's arms! Big pop! Fitzgerald wrenches Faith's left arm behind his head, then locks in a sleeper with his right arm! Big pop!] DD: No! Fitzgerald counters the attempted Test of Faith with his trademark Buffalo sleeper! [Faith sinks to the mat as Fitzgerald keeps the hold locked in, Bailey himself dropping to his knees. The fans are on their feet and cheering as Morales checks Faith.] BS: The Buffalo sleeper is a dangerous hold, Don. Unlike most sleeper holds, the victim doesn't have either of his arms free, because Bailey has him cinched up in a shoulderlock. [Some of the fans are chanting "BAI-LEY! BAI-LEY!" as Morales continues to check on Faith. Fitzgerald has his teeth gritted as he continues to keep the pressure applied on Faith's throat and shoulder.] DD: Faith isn't moving, Billy Shakespeare. I think we could be moments away from Morales calling a halt to this one. [Indeed, Morales is down on the canvas, staring into the face of Ryan Faith, the official's arm raised... he waits another few seconds... and then signals for the bell!] * DING! DING! DING! * [Big pop as Bailey Fitzgerald releases the Buffalo sleeper and stands up, allowing Morales to raise his arm in victory.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner, as the result of a submission... BAAAAAAAAIIIILLLEEEY FIIIIIIIIIITTZZGERAAAAAALLLD! [Fitzgerald hops out of the ring and makes his way back up the aisle, slapping the hands of the fans as he goes.] DD: An impressive victory for Bailey Fitzgerald here tonight, Billy. BS: Both men did themselves proud in that match, Don. Faith was unlucky to have his Tiger Driver '91 attempt countered by Fitzgerald, but you've got to give Bailey credit for keeping his wits about him in order to spot that opportunity. [As Fitzgerald gives one last smile to the fans before disappearing backstage behind the curtain at the head of the aisle, we cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Well, folks, later tonight we're going to find out whether it will be Mark Coleman or Owen "Truth" Curtis advancing to the final match on the RCW ROAD TO THE GOLD to face Johnny Pleasence, who defeated "Pistol" Paul Driscoll here earlier tonight. Stay tuned for that big match-up. Right now, let's hear some comments Owen Curtis had for his opponent Mark Coleman, recorded earlier today. [Cut. We are in the Rose Garden arena, which is devoid of people other than arena workers setting up. The chairs are down and the ring is set up, which we can see because we are looking at the ring ropes in a close up. A figure clad in a green singlet, gold trim, dashes by and we can hear the pounding of his footsteps ... until he stops, hit the ropes, bounces off, and runs the other way. This happens three or four times, until it stops.] VOICE: Good. [We hear the bob, weave and shuffle of footsteps. Then, the figure steps into the frame, but we are too close to see anything but the midsection. The camera zooms back, and looks up, and we see that it is Owen "Truth" Curtis with a white towel over his shoulder and his face covered in sweat.] OWEN "TRUTH" CURTIS: There. I think I'm ready. I do this before every match, you know. I run the ropes in practice. It helps me to confront that one moment which caused me all the years of pain, when I blew out my knee. Something stupid like running the ropes in practice. You wouldn't think it could end a career, but it almost ended mine. Every single time, I confront that memory to make sure it can't happen again. You remember what I said about life after thirty? I'm 31, and at that age you don't get a whole lot of second chances. I'm making the most of mine. [Owen takes the towel off his shoulder and wipes the sweat off of his neck and face.] OTC: I look back, Mark Coleman, and it's all so clear. I see that YOU are ME, the way I was 10 years ago. You're strong, flexible, skilled, well-trained, critically acclaimed and cocky. You think you have the world outsmarted. You think bad things happen to others, but not to you. And you think you can take advantage of those bad things, as if it's easy. As if I'm going to just LET YOU. All of that, in your opinion, means you deserve to win. [He shakes his head, laughing.] OTC: Marky Mark, my friend... those are the things I thought BACK THEN. And the funny thing was, I was right about ALL of them. But you know what else, my friend? IT WASN'T ENOUGH. You don't get it, do you? You think that I'm going to assume that you're a cake walk, because you're young. Maybe you should listen to me before you rebut the things I didn't say. You think I don't sweat you ... I DO. You think I don't respect your ability ... I DO. You think I'll just go back in the sewer and compare you to all the poop logs floating around Portland? You'd like that. It would make your job easy. Well I DIDN'T, kiddo. You cut a promo saying you can predict me, but all your guesses were wrong. Just like your guesses will be wrong in the ring tonight. You see, Coleman... there's a funny thing about The Truth. Sometimes The Truth is not what it seems. [He pauses a second. Lets that sink in.] OTC: Go ahead. Attack my knee. I think it's funny you said that right up front. It shows you don't even understand what you're doing. You think it's that easy. Find the weak spot, kill the weak spot, rise to the top. Well, let me tell you, no one is stepping out of your way. Certainly not me. You want that trip to the finals, you are going to have to fight HARD. Just like if I want a shot at the gold, I need to do the same. The difference is, I've seen what it takes. I've been there. And I've found out that sometimes, givng everything you got ... is not enough. Sometimes it takes that little bit extra, which I have and you don't. It's a secret I won't share with you because you wouldn't believe me if I did. I'm gonna have to show you. But I can give you a little idea. You're just getting started in life, so let me put it in terms you understand. You want a Lexus out of life. Lexus costs a lot. So you buy a little Hyundai. You're real impressed with yourself. It's cheap, it gets great mileage, and it has a whole lotta space. You did a smart thing. But the Lexus has that higher level of excellence, and if you want it, you don't start with it. You have to work your way up. You have to pay, and pay, and pay. Mark Coleman... I've paid. I've paid dearly over the years. Brilliant young talent is not enough my friend. It takes the smarts to make others work for you. So tonight, after I show you... and BEAT you... consider it a life lesson. I know it will be hard, but you need to consider it ME doing YOU... a favor. Because I've just blessed you with the Truth -- and that's the most anyone can do for a snotty, know-it-all rookie like yourself. [Owen stops. He realizes there's nothing left to say. He catches his breath.] OTC: See you tonight. [He takes the towel off his shoulders, sets it over the camera -- so we only see white terrycloth -- and we cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: That's going to be some match tonight between the veteran Curtis and the rookie Coleman. Will Curtis take Coleman to school, or will the student best the teacher? BS: I can't wait, Don. DD: Well, right now we've got ourselves a doozy of a tag team match, so let's get up to the ring for the introductions. ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / TAG TEAM TURMOIL: / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / Orin LeBlanc & Madrock the Irrepressible /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ vs. Kolya Sudakov & "Your Hero" Danny Daniels [Sy Simmons is in the ring, ready as ever to make the introductions:] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the following tag team match is scheduled for one fall, with a 10-minute time limit. Introducing first... [The Starland Vocal Band begins playing "Afternoon Delight". Coming down the aisleway is Danny Daniels. "Your Hero" has his wraparound sunglasses over his eyes, and is carrying a box of the 'Your Hero' t-shirts under his left arm.] D'YH'D: Sky rockets in flight... Danny "Your Hero" Daniels is THE Afternoon Delight! [Sadly, in his right hand is a cordless microphone.] D'YH'D: That's right... in honor of the greatness that is... ME! "Your Hero", Danny Daniels, a man so nice they named me twice... we're having a special sale on the t-shirts! Normally they are $16, but during my match you can buy three shirts for fifty bucks! That way, you can share the joy in my victory! Isn't that great? [Danny tries to give a 'Thumbs Up', but with the box it's difficult. He manages as well as he can, though.] D'YH'D: Now, tonight me and Sudafed are teaming up. It's great! It's international relations at its finest! Thanks to Sudafed, I'll be able to bring the magnificence that is "Your Hero" to another nation. No need to thank me... just doing my part to help end the Cold War. DD: Someone should tell Danny that the Cold War ended a long time ago. BS: Perhaps not on the world that he lives on, Don. D'YH'D: But first, we have to defeat our opponents! First, there's Lynxie Baby. Now, Orenthal... I know last week that we both fought in the Four Way match. And it was thanks to you that "Your Hero" didn't get his well-earned victory. Well... step back, Honky Cat, because while the Cat's in the Cradle with the Silver Spoon, you're in the ring getting pinned by "Your Hero"! [Danny nods at his own sage wisdom.] D'YH'D: As for Maddock... Hush now. Keep your voice down. Voices carry. And I don't speak Boston, so I don't understand a word you say. But you yell. A lot. And as "Your Hero", I need to explain to you that people didn't come to listen to you. They came to hear... ME! "Your Hero", Danny Daniels. [Danny reaches ringside and sets the box of t-shirts right by ringside, then enters the ring himself.] D'YH'D: And one more treat for all of you, the fans! You'd never want to leave your seat while "Your Hero" is wrestling. Even to go to the bathroom... you'd rather pee your pants than miss a moment of my presence. And who can blame you? [This time, Danny *does* give a 'Two Thumbs Up' gesture.] D'YH'D: So here's the dilemma... you want to buy some of these great shirts, but you don't dare miss the match. Well, worry no more, friends! Tonight, Ben Watersonskiovich, agent of my tag team partner Koala Sudafed, will personally be selling the shirts while I'm wrestling. That way, you can buy and wear the shirt while watching "Your Hero" in action. Just that's the kind of guy I am... [Wait for it...] D'YH'D: TOODLES~! DD: Good grief. [Daniels finally relinquishes his microphone, and magnanimously gestures to Simmons to introduce his partner. "Hunter Killer" by Quo Vads kicks in over the PA.] SS: Introducing his partner... accompanied to the ring by "Agent to the Stars" Ben Waterson... hailing from Kemerovo, Russia, weighing in at 230lbs... KOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLYA SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDAKOV! [Big heel pop as Sudakov strides through the curtains, completely oblivious to the jeers of the crowd. He checks the black fingerless gloves on each hand as he makes his way down to the ring.] DD: Where's Waterson? [Indeed, Sudakov is alone as he makes his way down to the ring in his plain black tights, the word "HUNTER" emblazoned down one leg and the word "KILLER" down the other. And suddenly Waterson emerges from the curtain, hurrying down the aisle behind his charge... and carrying a red glove.] DD: Here comes Ben Waterson. I thought his absence was too good to be true. BS: But here's something new, Don -- Waterson is *smiling*. [Ben Waterson catches up to Sudakov, and attempts to give him the red glove. Sudakov scowls at Waterson and climbs into the ring, leaving his agent in his wake. Danny Daniels is ready to greet both men, handing a yellow t-shirt to each of them, then giving them a 'thumbs up.' Sudakov simply hands his t-shirt to Waterson, whose smile rapidly disappears.] DD: Danny Daniels has absolutely no idea, Billy Shakespeare. [Waterson tosses the t-shirts into the corner and returns to trying to persuade Sudakov to wear his red glove.] DD: What's with the glove? BS: I have no earthly idea. ["Hunter Killer" fades as Sy Simmons takes his position in the centre of the ring once more.] SS: And introducing their opponents... first, hailing from Cockatoo Island, Australia, and weighing in at 321lbs... MAAAAAAAAAAAAADROCK THE IRRRRREPRRESSSSSSSSIBBLEE! [Good pop from the crowd as the inane yet catchy chorus of "Tubthumping" by Chambawamba blasts out over the PA, and out marches Madrock, practically bouncing off the railings on either side of the aisle as he slaps the hands of fans on his way to the ring.] DD: And here comes the monster from Almunster, Madrock the Irrepressible. [Madrock marches straight up to the ring and steps between the ropes. Official Jim Bright does his best to restrain Madrock from marching right up to his opponents and clobbering them right away. Instead, Madrock is tossed a t-shirt by Danny Daniels -- accompanied by a 'thumbs up', of course -- which Madrock regards with interest... then blows his nose on! Big pop, as Daniels lifts his wrap-around sunglasses as if to make sure he saw what he just saw. He shakes his head in disappointment.] SS: And his partner... [Big pop as "Do The Evolution" by Pearl Jam kicks in over the PA.] SS: ...hailing from St. Catherine's, Ontario, and weighing in at 275lbs... OOOOOOOOOOORRRRRIN "THE LYYYYYNX" LEBLAAAAAAAAAANC! [LeBlanc strides out into the aisle in his charcoal grey tights and black boots, a smile on his scruffily bearded face. He runs his fingers through his shaggy hair and makes his way down to the ring.] DD: Here comes RCW's only Canadian competitor! [LeBlanc climbs the ring steps and enters the ring, going to stand by Madrock as all four men stare at each other across the squared circle. As Pearl Jam fades, official Jim Bright motions for one member of each team to leave the ring. Sudakov points at the corner, instructing Daniels to leave the ring, and Daniels obliges, calling after Waterson about starting to sell the shirts.] DD: I'm no fan of Kolya Sudakov, but I almost feel sorry for him, being saddled with Danny Daniels as a tag team partner. BS: "Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness!" DD: Absolutely. [beat] What does that mean? BS: Never mind. [Meanwhile, LeBlanc convinces Madrock to leave the ring and take up the tag rope in the corner, and Bright signals for the bell as LeBlanc and Sudakov face each other across the ring.] * DING! DING! DING! * [LeBlanc and Sudakov circle each other in the middle of the ring, feeling each other out. Sudakov flashes the occasional kick at LeBlanc, who ducks out of the way. The crowd cheer as the two men collide in the centre of the ring, jockeying for position. Sudakov gets the better of the early exchange, staggering LeBlanc with a couple of forearm strikes, and as LeBlanc bounces back to his feet, he is felled by a kick from Sudakov! Heel pop! LeBlanc gets back to his feet again, ducks under another kick, and tackles Sudakov in the midsection, taking him down to the mat! Both men pop up, Sudakov charging at LeBlanc, and LeBlanc armdrags Sudakov to the mat. Sudakov is back up again, and Orin hits a drop-toe hold to fell the Russian again, following up with a half Boston crab. Pop!] DD: A fast-paced opening here to this match! BS: And immediately you can see LeBlanc's strategy: just in these opening few seconds we've seen how dangerous Sudakov's kicks can be, and it looks like the Lynx is going to focus on Sudakov's legs. [Sudakov reaches the ropes and pulls himself back to his feet, and is caught by a punch to the back of the knee from LeBlanc. Meanwhile, Danny Daniels is looking down at the fans in the front row, holding up one of his shirts, hawking it to anybody who might be interested. Waterson slaps the canvas in frustration with his red glove. LeBlanc sends Sudakov for the ride, and snaps him to the canvas with a dragon leg screw! Pop! LeBlanc keeps hold of one of Sudakov's legs and moves over to his corner to tag in Madrock the Irrepressible. As Madrock comes in, the big Australian stomps Sudakov's leg for good measure. LeBlanc leaves the ring.] DD: It looks like LeBlanc and Madrock are going to be able to work together just fine here tonight. [Madrock pulls Sudakov to his feet and sends him for the ride. Sudakov ducks under a huge, clubbing forearm, and stops on a dime, blasting the Australian in the back of the head with a savate kick, staggering Madrock. Sudakov bounces off the ropes and hits an elbow to the small of Madrock's back, knocking him to his knees, and then bounces off the ropes in front of the Australian, hitting him with a kick to the side of the head that fells Madrock! Big heel pop!] DD: Sudakov may be much smaller than Madrock, but he's so *quick*, and those kicks are lethal. BS: Madrock's as tough as old boots, though, Don. No need to worry about that! [On the outside, Waterson signals to Sudakov with his glove, yelling, "They'll love it!" Sudakov turns his back on his agent and drops an elbow across Madrock's throat. Heel pop! Sudakov immediately locks in a triangle choke on the Australian, much to the dismay of LeBlanc on the outside, who calls for Jim Bright to check whether the hold is legal.] BS: If there's one way to slow down a big man, Don, it's to cut off his air supply. Sudakov's managed to get Madrock down to the mat, and now he needs to keep him there. [Bright checks on Madrock's airway and declares the hold to be legal. Madrock reaches for the ropes, and can't quite manage it -- so he powers to his feet to a big pop and wraps his thick fingers around the bottom rope!] DD: And Sudakov has to break the hold! [Sudakov releases Madrock, but doesn't allow the Australian any respite, kicking him hard in the leg, dropping him back to his knees. Madrock again gets back to his feet, but Sudakov is there with palm strikes to his kidney areas, causing his opponent to wince in pain. Sudakov sends Madrock for the ride, and the big man is taken down to the mat by a reverse elbow from Sudakov. Heel pop! Waterson again signals to Kolya to take the glove, but Sudakov declines. Madrock gets back to his knees, and Sudakov waits behind him -- then locks in a reverse waistlock.] DD: Sudakov is going to try and suplex this 320lbs-plus monster here! [And Sudakov manages it, executing an excellent German suplex on his opponent. Heel pop! Sudakov makes the cover... 1... 2... ...and Madrock kicks out! Pop! Sudakov drags Madrock back to his feet, and sends him for the ride again. Sudakov ducks under another elbow strike attempt -- and turns on the spot to land a clobbering forearm, both men tumbling to the mat!] DD: Madrock has bought himself a couple of precious seconds here, Billy Shakespeare, but he needs to make the tag! [Madrock gets to his knees and moves in the direction of LeBlanc's outstretched hand, but he's cut off by Sudakov, who chop blocks the Australian from behind and immediately cinches in a kneebar. Heel pop! Madrock manages to roll himself over, powering out of the move and kicking Sudakov away with his free boot. Madrock gets to his feet, and again extends his arm to make the tag... only to be hit by a kick to the kidney section by Sudakov, again dropping him to his knees! Heel pop!] BS: Sudakov is doing a great job of preventing Madrock from making the tag here. The longer the big man is on the receiving end of these strikes and submission holds, the worse things are looking for him. [Sudakov rolls over Madrock with a snapmare take-over, then rolls to his feet directly in front of Orin LeBlanc and gives him a forearm strike for good measure! LeBlanc is furious, and tries to enter the ring to get payback on Sudakov, but Jim Bright steps in, forcing LeBlanc back through the ropes, and allowing Sudakov to stomp on Madrock's head. Big heel pop!] BS: If LeBlanc has a weakness, Don, it's his temper: the smart move is to store up the payback for cheap shots like that, not try and take it out on Sudakov now. He's just making things worse for his partner. [Sudakov again drops to make the cover on Madrock. Bright is right there... 1... 2... ...and Madrock gets his shoulder up! Meanwhile, Danny Daniels has jumped down from the ring apron, and is allowing a fan in the front row to feel the quality of one of his t-shirts.] DD: Give me a break, Billy Shakespeare. Danny Daniels needs to focus on this match. BS: On the other hand, Sudakov's doing just fine without him at the moment, Don! [Daniels continues to extoll the merits of his t-shirt to the fan, who looks decidedly uncertain about the purchase, while Sudakov brings Madrock back to his feet in the ring. Sudakov goes to whip Madrock in the direction of the corner... but Madrock reverses, whipping the Russian into the corner instead, and then following up with a big splash that fells Sudakov and leaves Madrock groggily on his knees.] DD: What a splash from Madrock! Surely he'll make the tag now! [Madrock slowly... oh so slowly... makes his way to the corner, arm outstretched, as LeBlanc is standing with both feet on the bottom rope, his left arm clutching the tag rope, his right stretched as far towards Madrock as possible... ...and a big face pop as Madrock makes the tag!] DD: He did it! Madrock makes the tag! [LeBlanc storms the ring just as Sudakov charges at the two men. Madrock and LeBlanc fell Sudakov with a double shoulderblock, then each man grabs hold of one of Sudakov's legs... and wrenches them apart in a double leg splint! Big pop! Both men follow it up with a boot to Sudakov's groin section! Another big pop! Madrock rolls out of the ring while Waterson goes berzerk on the outside, yelling at the official to disqualify Sudakov's opponents.] DD: Waterson getting no love from the referee here, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Everything's a crime against humanity if you're Ben Waterson, Don. [LeBlanc pulls Sudakov to his feet and locks him in a rear waistlock... then lifts him up and *plants* him with a German suplex -- holding on, and rolling through for a second suplex! Big pop as LeBlanc goes for the cover on the winded Sudakov... 1... 2... ...and Sudakov kicks out! Heel pop! LeBlanc again drags Sudakov to his feet... and then drops him straight back to the mat with a neckbreaker! Pop! LeBlanc again makes the cover... 1... 2... ...no! Sudakov kicks out again!] DD: Sudakov is an incredibly tenacious competitor! [LeBlanc again pulls Sudakov to his feet, raises one arm to the crowd, drawing the fans' cheers... and *plants* Sudakov with a DDT! Pop! LeBlanc *again* makes the cover... 1... 2... ...and Sudakov still kicks out!] BS: It looks like LeBlanc has turned his attention to Sudakov's neck here, Don. I wonder whether he's trying to soften him up for the Beast's Burden. [Orin brings Sudakov back to his feet again, only to be distracted by Ben Waterson getting up on the apron. LeBlanc turns his attention to the apron just for a moment, but as he moves towards Waterson, the "Agent to the Stars" begs off, jumping back to the floor. The Lynx turns... right into a kick to the side of the head from Sudakov! Heel pop!] DD: Both men are down in the middle of the ring. Sudakov could really use the tag... BS: If Danny Daniels has quite finished hawking t-shirts, that is. [Indeed, Daniels has climbed back up the ringsteps and appears to be back in the corner and ready to tag in. Sudakov moves to the corner... reaches out with his hand... ...and picks up Daniels's box of t-shirts, apparently looking to use it as a weapon! Daniels flies into a panic, grabbing the box as Sudakov picks it up, and the two men engage in a tug of war with the box.] DD: Sudakov would rather tag in this box of t-shirts than his actual partner, Billy Shakespeare. [Meanwhile, Orin has made the tag to Madrock -- big pop! -- and the big Australian charges across the ring... and *splashes* Sudakov into the corner, sending the box of shirts flying! Daniels immediately starts gathering them up, while Sudakov is pummelled by clubbing forearm blows from Madrock! Madrock grabs Sudakov in a waistlock... and throws him to the canvas with a belly-to-belly suplex! Big pop! Madrock dives onto Sudakov with a senton splash! The Australian makes the cover... 1... 2... ...and Sudakov kicks out! Mixed pop from the crowd!] DD: Folks, some of the fans here in the Garden are actually cheering Kolya Sudakov! BS: He's showing some extraordinary grit and resilience, Don. He's taken everything thrown at him by Madrock and LeBlanc, single-handedly, and just keeps going! [Madrock brings Sudakov back to his feet... and hits an atomic drop! Old school pop! He whips Sudakov to the ropes... and then presses the Russian above his head! Big pop!] DD: Impressive strength from this mastadon! [Madrock seems to step out from underneath Sudakov, leaving the Russian to crash to the mat! Pop! Madrock again makes the cover... 1... 2... ....and Sudakov kicks out! Madrock pulls Sudakov to his feet and tries to whip him to the ropes -- but the Russian reverses, and Madrock goes to the ropes... and tumbles to the outside! Mixed pop!] DD: Low bridge by Danny Daniels! Madrock falls over the ropes to the outside! BS: I don't think that was deliberate by Daniels, Don -- I think he was just bending to pick up one of his t-shirts, and was simply holding on to the top rope! DS: It's the closest thing to teamwork we've seen from Sudakov and Daniels all night -- and it was an accident! [Sudakov follows Madrock to the outside, against the advice of official Jim Bright. Sudakov goes for a kick -- but Madrock catches the Russian's hand! Sudakov fights out with a blow to the Australian's head. Madrock staggers back, then charges at his opponent with his boot raised -- but Sudakov dodges out of the way and Madrock ends up crotched on the steel guard rail! Sympathetic pop from the fans!] DD: The referee's count is already at six -- and Sudakov rolls back into the ring to break the count. [Sudakov immediately goes over to LeBlanc's corner and shoves the Canadian, causing Bright to step between the two men -- and on the outside, Ben Waterson uses the opportunity of the distraction to...] * CLANG! * [...hit Madrock with a steel chair! Heel pop! Waterson rolls the groggy Madrock back into the ring under the bottom rope, and Sudakov immediately drops to make the pinfall attempt... 1... 2...] DD: No! LeBlanc makes the save! Orin LeBlanc enters the ring and breaks up the pinfall attempt! BS: It would have been a miscarriage of justice for this match to end in that fashion, after Waterson's involvement. [Referee Jim Bright forces LeBlanc to leave the ring as Sudakov brings Madrock back to his feet, unloading on the Australian with a volley of kicks and punches that is almost frightening in its intensity. Sudakov whips Madrock into the corner!] DD: Sudakov is setting Madrock up for the Violence Party! [Sudakov moves into the corner -- but Madrock lunges out with a big forearm, taking Sudakov down to the mat! Big pop!] DD: Madrock saves himself -- but now he really needs to make the tag! [Madrock inches across the ring, the fans bellowing their support for the big man... and just as Sudakov has collected himself, Madrock, sensing the danger, makes a leap for his corner -- and makes the tag! Big pop!] DD: And here comes the Lynx! The Lynx is the freshest man in the match, and here he comes! BS: Actually, Danny Daniels is the freshest man in the match -- but he seems to be trying to reclaim a lost t-shirt from one of the fans in the front row. DD: Isn't that the same fan who bought a t-shirt a few minutes ago? Anyway, who cares -- LeBlanc is unloading on Sudakov in the ring! [Indeed, Sudakov is on the receiving end of a Guillotine face driver from the Canadian! Big pop!] DD: SNOWBLIND! SNOWBLIND! [The Lynx makes the cover... 1... 2... ...but Sudakov kicks out! Mixed pop again!] DD: Sudakov's resilience really is remarkable here tonight! BS: He's one of the toughest competitors I've seen in some time, Don. [LeBlanc pulls Sudakov back to his feet, and drops him right back to the mat with a swinging neckbreaker! Big pop!] DD: We know what comes next, folks -- LeBlanc is setting Sudakov up for the Beast's Burden! [LeBlanc pulls Sudakov back to his feet yet again; Sudakov lashes out with an arm, but the Lynx dodges out of the way and reaches under the flailing arm, placing it behind his neck. LeBlanc reaches across the Russian's body and pulls his other arm across his face, locking his hands around his own neck... and then LeBlanc lifts Sudakov up, falling backwards, and *planting* Sudakov on his head and neck! Big gasp from the fans!] DD: He got it! He got it! [LeBlanc drops to the mat and makes the cover, hooking both of Sudakov's legs. On the outside, Waterson is livid, waving his glove and shouting. Referee Jim Bright makes the count... 1... 2... ...3!] * DING! DING! DING! * DD: He got him! He got him! LeBlanc pins Sudakov! BS: The cobra clutch suplex is a devastating hold -- and it was the straw that broke the camel's back. Sudakov did an *incredible* job in this match, not only surviving the attacks of two men much bigger than him, but also controlling large portions of this match. DD: Quite the win here for LeBlanc and Madrock! Let's get the official word. [As LeBlanc rolls from the ring into the sweaty embrace of the massive Australian, Sy Simmons makes the announcement.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen... your winners, by pinfall... MAAAADDROOOCK THE IRRREEEPRESSSSIBLE and ORRRRRRIN "THE LYYYYYYYYYNX" LEBLAAAAAAANC! [Big pop as LeBlanc and Madrock head up the aisle together. Meanwhile, Ben Waterson is shoving Daniels on the outside, yelling at him in no uncertain terms that he did a terrible job. Waterson shoves Daniels again... and Daniels shoves back, felling Waterson with a forearm! Big pop!] DD: Danny Daniels *did* wear his fightin' boots tonight -- but he's showing them too late to do his partner any good. [Waterson is straight back up, and hits Daniels with a couple of strikes of his own, rolling Daniels into the ring and following him in himself. Sudakov has made his way back to his feet, and takes the glove from Waterson, slipping it on his right fist.] DD: Perhaps now we'll find out what this glove is all about, Billy Shakespeare! [Daniels turns from Waterson towards Sudakov... and is staggered by a vicious spinning backfist! Mixed pop! Waterson leaps up and down in the ring, whooping with delight, yelling "PIIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMP SLAAAAAAP!" He rolls from the ring and runs around the ringside area, yelling "PIMP SLAP! PIMP SLAP! PIMP SLAP!" He stops in front of Owen Curtis's drunken frat boy fans, and leads them, semi-successfully in a chant of "PIMP SLAP!"] DD: I'm guessing that's, uh, a... Pimp. Slap. BS: You're an astute man, Don Ditka. [Daniels is staggered, some blood drawn from his lip... but Sudakov isn't finished, stepping back and delivering his high kick to the side of Daniels's head, felling "Your Hero"! Big heel pop!] DD: Now, there was no need for that, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Exactly. Can't a man come out here and sell a few t-shirts in peace? [Sudakov wipes sweat from his face and flicks it onto Daniels before vaulting from the ring and making his way up the aisle, Waterson following behind, both men leaving to mixed reactions. Waterson seems truly energised and excited by Sudakov's "pimp slap."] DD: Folks, it was a pig-headed performance from Kolya Sudakov here tonight, but it was an impressive one. BS: It certainly was. Sudakov more or less wrestled the entire match against two men single-handed. It may have sprung from his distrust of Daniels, but what we saw was an incredible display of resilience and tenacity. DD: But what was that "pimp slap" thing all about, anyway? BS: I have no earthly idea, Don. DD: Folks, we'll be right back after these messages. [As Danny Daniels gets to his knees, clutching the side of his head, his sunglasses wonky but still safely on his head, and raises his hand towards Jim Bright as if to ask what he did to deserve being kicked in the head, fade.] [Fade back from commercials.] ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / Vinny Carmazzi vs. "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Sy Simmons brings his microphone to his lips once more.] SS: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and has a ten-minute time limit. [Big pop from the crowd as Godsmack's "I Stand Alone" hits over the PA.] SS: Introducing first, hailing from Jersey City, New Jersey, and weighing in at 235lbs... VIINNNNNNNNNNYYYY CAAAAAAAARRRRMAZZZZZZZZZZZZZII! [The crowd cheer as Carmazzi steps through the curtains at the head of the aisle. Wearing his standard ring attire of long black tights with red blood droplets adorning either leg, Carmazzi stops for a moment to drink in the cheers of the crowd.] DD: After Carmazzi's performance last week, the fans here in Portland have certainly taken a shine to him. And Vinny's taking a moment to accept those cheers -- good for him! [Carmazzi throws both fists up into the air as he stands at the head of the aisle, prompting a bigger pop from the crowd and more cameras to flash around the arena. Carmazzi almost -- *almost* -- cracks a smile as he starts to make his way down to the ring, but then... Big heel pop! Big heel pop as Nolan Dorado sprints through the curtain and out into the aisle, hitting Carmazzi with a running bulldog and taking him down to the mat.] DD: Give me a break! Carmazzi's not even made his way down to the ring and already Dorado's jumped him?! BS: Dorado's cocky, Don. He believes Carmazzi's beneath him -- he believes *everybody's* beneath him -- and he probably thinks he can get this match over with quicker if he takes Carmazzi out before the bell. [Carmazzi lies dazed on the concrete floor as Dorado walks back to the head of the aisle, drinking in the boos and jeers of the crowd, giving as good as he gets in terms of verbal abuse... and Dorado pulls down one of the curtains from the entranceway, twisting it into a makeshift rope as he walks back towards Carmazzi.] DD: What in the name of all that is good and holy is Nolan Dorado doing with that curtain, Billy Shakespeare?! [Dorado stomps away at Carmazzi, then... then wraps the curtain-rope around Carmazzi's neck, choking him, and starts to drag him down the aisle towards the ring! The crowd on either side of the aisle are livid as Dorado yanks Carmazzi down the aisle, Carmazzi's hands at his throat, his face turning an unhealthy shade of cerise.] DD: This is ridiculous, Billy Shakespeare! What does Dorado think he's doing? [As if in reply, Dorado turns to a nearby camera, and its microphone picks up his explanation:] ND: This just goes to show... once a curtain-jerker, always a curtain-jerker! BS: Dorado is doing his best to humiliate Vinny Carmazzi, but if I were Dorado, I'd be rather more interested in incapacitating him than in embarrassing him! [Indeed, Carmazzi finally releases himself from his makeshift noose-cum-lasso, and Dorado lurches forwards with a start as his load suddenly becomes much lighter. Dorado turns... and is hit immediately by a searing clothesline from the New Jerseyan. Big pop!] DD: Carmazzi's had enough of Dorado's games -- and he rolls the "Golden Boy" into the ring! [Match official Pat Nickrick signals for the bell as Carmazzi slides into the ring after Dorado under the bottom rope.] * DING! DING! DING! * DD: And we're now officially underway! [Carmazzi waits, poised for Dorado to get back to his feet... and then when the "Golden Boy" charges, Carmazzi is ready, flipping his opponent over with an arm drag... and immediately turning it into a Kimuri Armbar! Big pop!] DD: Oh my! Carmazzi's got the armbar! Carmazzi could break Dorado's arm here! [Dorado's eyes widen in both pain and surprise as he realises he's in a very precarious situation. The crowd is clapping and cheering as Dorado reaches out for the ropes with his free hand -- and makes it! Nickrick signals for the break, which Carmazzi obliges immediately, getting to his feet and staring down at Dorado, who now clings to the bottom rope with both arms as if his life depended on it.] BS: I think Carmazzi was just sending Dorado a little message here at the start of the match, Don, giving him a little scare. Just making it known that he can get that Kimuri armbar more or less out of anywhere. DD: You may be right, Billy Shakespeare. And it certainly does seem to have given Dorado a scare, Dorado now rolling to the outside. [Big heel pop as Jodee Burwick emerges at the head of the aisle, tottering down to ringside on ludicrously high heels, her sparkly halter top and hot pants glittering like trashy jewels under the glare of the spotlights following her unsteady progress. She immediately embraces Dorado, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as Carmazzi stares down from the ring above, shaking his head -- perhaps in dismay, perhaps in disbelief.] DD: And here's that harlot, Jodee Burwick. Come on, Dorado, get yourself back in the ring and let's have a match here! BS: Dorado's doing everything he can to put Carmazzi off his game, Don. If he can frustrate him by stalling on the outside, he's going to do it. [As Nickrick's count reaches seven, Dorado finally deigns to climb to the apron, but he orders the referee to get Carmazzi to back away from the ropes. Nickrick complies, and pushes Carmazzi away -- but Carmazzi charges at Dorado anyway, allowing the "Golden Boy" to grab Carmazzi by the neck and hot-shot him on the top rope! Heel pop as Carmazzi tumbles backwards into the ring, and Dorado leaps cat-like to the top rope, then springs off with a legdrop onto the throat of Carmazzi!] DD: Incredible athleticism from Nolan Dorado! [Dorado pulls Carmazzi to his feet and sends him to the ropes... and as he comes back, hits him with a hurricanrana! Heel pop! Carmazzi rolls back to his feet, and Dorado grabs Carmazzi with a waistlock... only for Carmazzi to slip behind Dorado and *nail* him with a forearm blow across the shoulderblades. Dorado staggers forwards, and Carmazzi launches himself at Dorado with something a bit like a Thesz press, mounting Dorado and hammering away at him with punches! Big pop!] DD: Carmazzi seems intent to slow Dorado down here, wailing away at him with punches and forearms. [Nickrick won't stand for this kind of infraction, and puts the count on Carmazzi, who obeys the official's instructions and stands up -- only to receive a sneaky low-blow from Dorado, who then lands a chop on Carmazzi's throat, sending Vinny snapping backwards to the mat, again clutching at his throat.] BS: Dorado's showing his smarts here, Don. He's focusing on the neck and throat of Vinny Carmazzi. Not only does working over the throat limit the amount of air Carmazzi can suck in -- but it's the target for his signature move, the Golden Guillotine. I wouldn't be surprised to see Dorado trying to set up the Guillotine in this match. DD: You're right, Billy. Dorado may be cocky, but he's most definitely not stupid. [Dorado rolls back to his feet and runs to the ropes, bouncing off and launching himself with a moonsault that lands on Carmazzi! Big heel pop! Dorado pops up again and runs at the ropes again, again launching himself with a moonsault -- but this time Carmazzi raises his knees, and Dorado lands painfully! Big pop! Carmazzi fights back to his feet, and sends Dorado to the ropes with an Irish whip. Carmazzi catches him on the rebound and slaps on a sleeperhold. Big pop from the crowd! But Dorado has the move scouted: he grabs Carmazzi's arms and performs a front somersault, flipping both men over so that Dorado lands on top of Carmazzi!] DD: Modified rolling senton from Dorado! Impressive stuff! [Dorado again pops back to his feet as Carmazzi rolls painfully to a kneeling position. Dorado bounces off the ropes behind Carmazzi and goes for a bulldog on the kneeling Carmazzi -- but Carmazzi shrugs it off and Dorado sails past him, nearly crotching himself on the opposite ropes. Big pop! Carmazzi gets back to his feet as Dorado does likewise and charges back at him. Carmazzi flips Dorado over with a rolling wristlock armdrag -- but Dorado lands on his feet and nails a kick to Carmazzi's midsection, doubling the New Jerseyan over before *planting* him with a jumping DDT! Big heel pop!] DD: Dorado is matching Carmazzi hold for hold here, Billy Shakespeare! BS: But notice that he's not going for the pin after any of these holds, Don. I'm guessing Dorado wants to hit Carmazzi with that one big move, one that will lay him out for the count -- but he should grab every possible opportunity to end this match with both hands. You can bet that Carmazzi will! [Dorado is quickly back to his feet as Carmazzi rolls onto his back, dazed from the DDT. Dorado goes to the outside and easily scales to the top rope, stopping momentarily to pose for the audience, who jeer him with feeling, all the while flashbulbs all around the arena sparkling as cameras capture Dorado's stance on the top buckle. Burwick claps in appreciation as Dorado waits for Carmazzi to get to his feet, and then launches himself with a missile dropkick... ...that misses! Dorado misses as Carmazzi ducks out of the way! But Dorado somehow keeps his balance and stays on his feet, spinning as if with one motion to hit Carmazzi with an enzuigiri, knocking Vinny off his feet! Big heel pop!] DD: Carmazzi hasn't really found his rhythm in this match yet, Billy Shakespeare. Any advantage he gets is quickly neutralised by Dorado. BS: Dorado's showing us that his fast-paced, high-risk style can really boss a match, Don. But there's always the danger that he'll go to the well one time too many. It's always risk vs. reward in these situations. DD: Spoken like a man who's been to the well a few times too many, Billy! BS: There's a reason I retired from the ring! [Dorado once again stops to gloat to the fans, looking down at Burwick on the outside. She blows him a kiss and does a little shimmy in her hotpants, as if to give Dorado more of an incentive.] DD: What's the deal with Jodee Burwick, Billy Shakespeare? Has nobody else noticed that she may be old enough to be Dorado's *mother*? BS: Don, I don't think this is a good avenue for us to explore. [Dorado bends over Carmazzi, who -- who grabs Dorado's wrist and locks both arms around it with the Kimuri armbar, pulling Dorado to the mat! Huge pop!] DD: KIMURI ARMBAR! KIMURI ARMBAR! Carmazzi's got Dorado in the armbar again! [The fans are on their feet as Carmazzi wrenches on the wrist and elbow, drawing a yell of pain from Dorado.] DD: This is bad for Dorado! Nobody can withstand the Kimuri armbar for very long! [Jodee Burwick is immediately up on the apron, yelling at the referee. Nickrick turns his attention from Dorado, and tries to persuade Burwick to return to the arena floor. Meanwhile, as Nickrick's back is turned, Dorado drives his free elbow into Carmazzi's groin, forcing Vinny to break the hold! Heel pop!] DD: Much as I may disagree with his tactics, I can't blame Dorado for doing whatever is necessary to get out of that predicament. [As Burwick smiles and drops back to the arena floor, Carmazzi slowly gets to his feet, a grimace of pain on his face; Dorado, similarly, clutches at his right shoulder as he gets to his feet. The fans cheer as they await another clash between these two men. Carmazzi looks to be slowed down by the blow to the groin, and Dorado moves in -- only for Carmazzi to explode with a kneelift that sends Dorado crashing to the mat! Big pop! Carmazzi immediately drops the leg across Dorado's throat, then pulls him back to his feet and sends him for the ride, and fells him with a drop toe-hold on the return. Pop! Carmazzi stays on Dorado, and goes for a half Boston crab... but Dorado puts his head down and rolls through, pinging Carmazzi away with a kick. Carmazzi bounces off the ropes and drops a quick elbow into Dorado's gut. Carmazzi goes for the cover... 1... 2... ...and Dorado kicks out! Carmazzi grinds his forearm into Dorado's face as he makes another cover... 1... 2... ...and again Dorado kicks out! Heel pop!] DD: Vinny Carmazzi is determined to wear Dorado down here, Billy. [Carmazzi brings Dorado back to his feet and traps him in a reverse waistlock, then hoists him up for a German suplex! Pop! Carmazzi stays on Dorado again, dragging him to his feet and slinging him over his shoulders, then bringing him crashing down on his knee with a backbreaker! Big pop! Carmazzi keeps hold of Dorado and lifts him back up, powering back to his feet, and throws Dorado over his head and behind him for a fallaway slam! Big pop!] DD: Impressive strength from Vinny Carmazzi! [Carmazzi once again drops onto Dorado to make the cover... 1... 2... ...and Dorado kicks out!] BS: Contrast how often Carmazzi is going for the pinfall in this match with the fact that -- as far as I can remember -- Dorado has not gone for a single pinfall attempt thus far, Don. DD: But Dorado still has something left in the tank. He's a remarkably tenacious competitor! [Carmazzi again drags Dorado to his feet and snaps him back to the canvas with a snapmare, then goes to bounce off the ropes and drop the leg... but Dorado rolls out of the way! Heel pop! Burwick claps at ringside as Carmazzi grimaces at the jar to his spine.] DD: That may have bought Dorado a few precious seconds to get his wind back! [Dorado is indeed back to his feet before Carmazzi, and as Carmazzi rises, Dorado catches him with an uppercut blow. Carmazzi is staggered, and Dorado backs him into a corner, then puts the boots to Vinny's midsection to slow him down.] DD: Oh my -- Carmazzi could be in trouble here. BS: Looks like Dorado's trying to set his opponent up for a superplex. This is a risky move! [Dorado successfully plants Carmazzi on the top turnbuckle, and then climbs up onto the buckles himself. Dorado opens his arms wide to the fans, basking in their jeers as flashbulbs burst around the arena.] DD: Dorado's wasting valuable time here! BS: He feeds off the attention of these fans, Don. But now may not be the time! [Dorado turns his attention back to his dazed opponent, dragging him up to stand on the top turnbuckle, first his left foot, then his right. The crowd buzzes in anticipation of the move, and Dorado slings Carmazzi's arm over his head, then lifts... ...flashes all over the arena as Dorado lifts Carmazzi above his head... ...Carmazzi appears to shift his weight in mid-air as both men tumble down towards the mat... ...both men hit the canvas with a thud, both men bouncing back slightly off the sprung ring as if in slow motion... ...and then Dorado is carried over, carried over Carmazzi's body, and rotates again himself, landing in the middle of the ring... ...and suddenly the crowd erupts with a huge, huge pop!] DD: KIMURI ARMBAR! KIMURI ARMBAR! BS: Carmazzi rolled through! Carmazzi shifted his weight and used his own momentum to carry Dorado over, and he has the Kimuri Armbar on Dorado right in the middle of the ring! [Dorado yells out in pain as Carmazzi increases the pressure on his wrist, elbow and shoulder. Burwick shrieks in dismay and immediately leaps up on the apron, desperately trying to distract Carmazzi and persuade him to relinquish the hold. The crowd is red hot as Dorado strains with his free arm to reach the ropes, using his boots for any leverage he can get.] DD: Dorado needs to make it to the ropes and get out of this hold right now! [Burwick jumps back to the arena floor and pushes the bottom rope as far towards Dorado's outstretched fingers as she can, while official Nickrick checks for the submission. Dorado shouts "NO!", but Carmazzi is like an animal, the armbar firmly clamped on. Dorado inches agonisingly towards the ropes... ...inches closer... ...inches closer... ...but then Carmazzi wraps Dorado up with a body scissors and rolls over, taking Dorado back into the middle of the ring! Big pop!] DD: This really doesn't look good for Dorado, Billy! BS: He's lasted a good thirty seconds in the armbar, and this is the third time in the match he's found himself in this predicament. [Dorado has nowhere to go in the middle of the ring. His free hand hovers above the canvas as he battles for any kind of movement from his trapped body and legs... ...his hand hovers... ...and then it slaps the canvas three times. Nickrick signals for the bell.] * DING! DING! DING! * [Big pop from the crowd as Carmazzi releases the armbar and rolls to his knees, allowing Nickrick to raise his arm.] SS: Here is your winner, as the result of a submission... VINNNNNNNYYYY CAAAAAAAAAAARRRMAZZZZZZZII! DD: What a hard-fought match, Billy Shakespeare! BS: You have to wonder whether those seconds he wasted showboating for the crowd before he attempted that superplex have cost Dorado here tonight, Don. DD: Dorado certainly showed us again this week that he possesses some remarkable natural athleticism. He took Carmazzi all the way in this one. [Carmazzi rolls from the ring and makes his way up the ring, holding his hands aloft. Meanwhile, Burwick enters the ring and helps Dorado to his feet. But Dorado pushes Burwick away, so frustrated at the loss that he cannot be consoled. Dorado rolls from the ring and shouts obscenities at the fans in the front row, kicking the crowd barriers in his fury.] DD: Dorado may have great natural gifts -- but he's got a lot of growing up to do. He's throwing a tantrum here at ringside! [Dorado kicks the steel ringsteps, separating the two halves of the steps and sending the top half clattering down to the floor. The fans in the front rows egg him on, working him up into more of a frenzy. He storms over to the broadcast table and starts yelling at Ditka and Shakespeare. Official Nickrick is quickly on the scene, but Dorado sees only a red mist, and *fells* the referee with a punch! Big heel pop! The timekeeper rings the bell again...] * DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! * [...as Burwick again tries to restrain Dorado. Four blue-shirted security guards converge on Dorado from all sides, two coming from the floor seating and two running down the aisle, and together they start to drag Dorado away from ringside, to the delight of the crowd.] DD: Get him out of here! Nolan Dorado just threatened the both of us -- are you all right, Billy Shakespeare? BS: I'm fine, Don. I can understand Dorado's frustration, but he needs to channel this energy into his matches. [As Dorado's flailing, wailing form recedes up the aisle, Burwick tottering after him, cut to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Well, folks, that was quite the match -- but we're not done yet! We'll be back after these messages from our sponsor to find out who will be facing Johnny Pleasence next week to become the first ever RCW Champion. Don't go away! [Fade to commercials.] [Fade back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Welcome back, everybody. We're just about ready for tonight's final match, but before we go up to Sy Simmons in the ring, I understand that one of the two combatants in this match is backstage with some comments. [Cut to the back... and cut to Mark Coleman, swinging his arms and pacing. The crowd, seeing this on the big screen, gives a small cheer as they recognize the man about to wrestle. After a few seconds, we can hear Coleman speaking to himself, talking softly over and over again...] MC: I got this... I got this... I got this... [Then, he looks up, and seems to notice the camera that is filming him. Coleman is confused for a second, before that warm, easy smile comes onto his face.] MC: Yeah, that's right. I'm just a little nervous about my match. I said it earlier this week, and I'll say it again. By the end of the evening, it's gonna be Mark Coleman scheduled to compete for the RCW Heavyweight title in two weeks. Said it, believe it, and you can take that as fact...or as truth, if you want. Can't help but wonder, though, if maybe this boy bit off a little more then he can chew. 20 years old, damp behind the ears, ready to step into the ring with a seven-to-eight year veteran. Enough to make anyone pause, enough to make anyone worry. So here I am, pacing a little bit, worried a little bit, and, worse of all, thinkin' I may step out there and actually lose. [A pause. Coleman looks a little worried for a moment...then he blows out a deep breath and smiles again.] MC: Then, I remember one thing. I'm Mark Coleman. The best damn talent RCW will ever see. I'm in the damn main event on my second-ever RCW show. And that just blows all the worry away. All that nervousness? Gone. All the anxiety? Gone. All the tension? Gone. Because, right now, I'm gonna hear my music, hear "Copperhead Road," turn, walk down the aisle after going through that curtain, step into the ring, and do exactly what I guaren-damn-teed last week. Win. Get to the final round, the last match. And take home that belt. [Coleman reaches up, and tips an imaginary hat to the camera, and to the fans.] MC: So... go ahead, and hit my music. [Coleman smiles one more time, and he turns, walking away from the camera as we go back to the announce position at ringside.] DD: It looks like Mark Coleman has put the rookie jitters aside, and is ready for our main event! Let's get up to the ring! ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / ROAD TO THE GOLD Second Round Match: /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ Mark Coleman vs. Owen "Truth" Curtis [Sy Simmons is once again in the ring, and raises his microphone to his lips.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall with a 15-minute time limit, and is a second-round match on the RCW ROAD TO THE GOLD! [Big anticipation pop from the crowd!] SS: The winner of this match will proceed to the tournament finals two weeks from tonight to face Johnny Pleasence, with the winner of that match to be crowned the first ever RCW CHAMPION! [Another big pop from the crowd! Steve Earle's "Copperhead Road" kicks in over the PA speakers.] SS: Introducing first, hailing from Memphis, Tennessee, and weighing in at 251lbs... MAAAAAAARRRRKK COOOOOOLLLEEEEMMAAAAAAANNNN! [As the drums come in, Mark Coleman steps out from behind the curtain. Wearing a pair of dark grey wrestling trunks and sporting the Stars and Bars as a tattoo on his right tricep, Coleman pauses for a moment at the top of the ramp to survey the crowd, a smile on his Southern features, before walking down the aisle towards the ring to a big pop.] DD: What an opportunity here tonight for this young man, Billy Shakespeare. BS: In the words of King Henry VI, "Embrace we then this opportunity!" Coleman was very impressive when he advanced from the first round of the tournament. DD: He certainly was, Billy. But he's going to have his work cut out for him tonight against the veteran Curtis. [Coleman shakes his head from side to side, loosening up before climbing the steps into the ring. The crowd cheers a bit as Coleman steps between the ropes and goes to the corner, leaning back against the ropes and bouncing off of them to warm up, keeping his eyes on the aisle as he awaits the arrival of Owen Curtis.] DD: Look at those drunken fans over there, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Those will be Curtis's fraternity brothers from the University of Oregon, Don. DD: They're certainly giving Coleman a hard time. [After much goading from the drunken frat boys in the front row, Coleman stands in the ring and looks down at them, saying something that the cameras don't pick up... and then... big heel pop as Owen Curtis slides into the ring behind Coleman from out of nowhere, and clips Coleman's left leg from behind!] DD: Where the heck did Curtis come from?! BS: He came out from under the ring, Don. DD: Owen Curtis has been hiding under the ring all night just so he can get the jump on Mark Coleman?! Give me a break! [Official Juan Morales hurriedly signals for the bell...] * DING! DING! DING! * [...as Curtis stomps away on Coleman's left knee, much to the dismay of the crowd in the Garden. Curtis gives a thumbs up to the frat boys in the front row before he cinches in a grapevine on Coleman's leg.] DD: Did you see that, Billy Shakespeare? Curtis and his fraternity brothers set this up! They set Mark Coleman up! BS: This is what the RCW championship means to Curtis, Don. He's willing to do whatever it takes. DD: Now why, do you suppose, is Curtis going for Coleman's leg? As we know -- indeed, as we heard earlier tonight -- Curtis is the one with the bad wheel, Curtis is the one who had to rehab a career-threatening knee injury. BS: My guess would be that he wants to give Coleman a taste of that bitter medicine. Plus Coleman is a lot less dangerous if he's off his feet. [Curtis releases the leg grapevine and both men get to their feet. Curtis sends Coleman for the ride, and on the return grabs his leg for a dragon screw leg whip, again wrenching Coleman's left leg. Curtis immediately wrenches the leg, putting his elbow behind Coleman's knee and yanking hard. Coleman is forced to grab the ropes behind him in an effort to get Curtis to break the hold, and Morales puts the count on Curtis, who finally releases Coleman on the count of three. Morales tells Curtis to back off as Coleman pulls himself back to his feet, shaking out the kinks in his left leg. Curtis more or less shoves Morales out of the way and charges at Coleman -- who is able to see the charge coming and floors the Truth with a clothesline! Big pop!] DD: Coleman may have bought himself some breathing room there, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Perhaps -- but not for long! [Indeed, Curtis immediately lashes out with a kick to Coleman's left knee, forcing the Tennesseean down to one knee. Both men get back to their feet... and now they tie up in the middle of the ring, collar and elbow. Curtis ducks out and gets behind Coleman with a reverse waistlock, but Coleman reaches up and spins out, getting Curtis in a side headlock. Curtis tries to push Coleman into the ropes to release him, but Coleman holds on. Curtis resorts to a punch in the small of Coleman's back, forcing the rookie to let go. And immediately Curtis hits a chop block on Coleman's left leg, again taking him down to the mat! Heel pop!] DD: Curtis is relentless in going after that leg! [As Curtis lunges in to follow up his attack, however, Coleman catches Curtis with his legs, monkey flipping him over him... and Curtis ends up hitting the ropes and being knocked down by the awkward impact. Pop! Coleman gets to his feet once more, now slightly favouring his right leg, and moves in to pick up the now slightly winded Curtis. He sends Curtis for the ride... and *explodes* off the other side of the ring with a clothesline! Big pop! And now it's Coleman's turn to work the knee, immediately grabbing Curtis's left leg and applying an ankle lock.] DD: And now the boot, as they say, is on the other foot! BS: That ankle lock will be putting pressure not only on Curtis's ankle, but also his knee, Don. [Curtis struggles in the ankle lock for a moment, and then manages to roll over, forcing Coleman to let go as he springs him away with his free leg. Curtis is quickly back to his feet as Coleman charges back in, Curtis ducking a clothesline attempt and then catching Coleman with a drop toe-hold, followed up by an elbow into the small of Coleman's back. Heel pop!] DD: The momentum in this match keeps switching, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Both men are technically sound and have good ring sense. This one could come down to experience. [Curtis rides Coleman, amateur-style, and slaps the back of Coleman's head a few times, just to rub it in. Curtis's frat boy fans in the front row seem very impressed; the rest of the crowd, less so. Curtis stands, and Coleman, his face a little reddened -- not by humiliation, but by determination -- rises too. Curtis invites Coleman to come on, and Coleman obliges, the two men tying up in the middle of the ring again. This time Coleman is able to send Curtis for the ride, and as Curtis comes back off the ropes, Coleman neatly side-steps him, and catches him with a drop toe-hold, again following up with an elbow to the small of Curtis's back. Big pop!] DD: And again, the boot is on the other foot. Coleman is saying to Curtis, "whatever you can do, I can do too." [Both men get back to their feet, a look of consideration flashing across Curtis's face. The easy smile Coleman displayed on his way to the ring is long-gone, his face now a picture of determination and concentration. Curtis once more invites Coleman on, and again the two men lock up. This time it's Coleman sent for the ride, and Curtis catches him mid-ring and folds Coleman's arm across his chest before sweeping his legs away. Heel pop!] DD: STO! What a judo sweep from Curtis -- and he's making the cover! [Morales is down to make the count... 1... ...and Coleman gets a shoulder up! Big pop!] DD: It's going to take more than that to put this rookie away. BS: True enough, Don, but every time Curtis forces Coleman to escape a pinfall attempt, he's sapping Coleman of energy. [Coleman and Curtis are back to their feet again, Curtis striking Coleman with a forearm, then a boot to the midsection, then slings his arm over his shoulder, and *snaps* Coleman over with a snap suplex. Heel pop as Curtis again makes the cover... 1... ...and again Coleman kicks out! Curtis isn't satisfied, pulling Coleman to his feet and sends him to the ropes... and then busts out a dropkick, drawing a mixed pop from the crowd!] DD: Good god, a dropkick?! Owen Curtis has a dropkick?! BS: And not a bad one, either, Don! [Again Curtis makes the cover. Morales is down to make the count... 1... ...and Coleman gets a shoulder up! Pop from the crowd. Curtis grins and moves away from Coleman, inviting him to get to his feet. Coleman does so, and Curtis immediately lights him up with a reverse knife-edge chop!] * SMACK! * "WHOOOOOOOO!" * SMACK! * "WHOOOOOO!" * SMACK! * "WHOOOOOOOOO!" * SMACK! * "WHOOOOOOOOOOO!" [Coleman suddenly grabs Curtis and spins him around, forcing him back into a corner with a series of slaps of his own!] * SMACK! * "WHOOOOOOOOOOO!" * SMACK! * "WHOOOO!" * SMACK! * "WHOOOOOOO!" * SMACK! * "WHOOOOOOOO!" [Morales steps in to force Coleman to make a break because Curtis is stuck in the corner. Coleman obliges, ever the boy scout, and Curtis explodes out of the corner -- only to be locked into a front waistlock... and then *tossed* over Coleman's head in a belly-to-belly suplex, cameras all over the arena flashing as Curtis hurtles through the air! Big pop!] DD: What a suplex from Mark Coleman! Curtis is up... and *another* one! [Indeed, Curtis charges at Coleman again, and is caught in another belly-to-belly suplex. Coleman immediately makes a cover of his own, Morales dropping to make the count... 1... 2... ...and Curtis kicks out! Mixed pop from the crowd as Coleman brings Curtis to his feet... and Curtis cradles Coleman for a schoolboy attempt of his own! 1... 2... ...and Coleman kicks out!] DD: Curtis can be as wily as a fox and as quick as a hiccup, Billy Shakespeare. BS: I suggest you leave the imagery to me, Don. DD: Right. Sorry. [Both men are back up, both men sweating, both men aware what is at stake in this match, both men wanting to advance to the finals. The crowd is hot, sensing the escalation, sensing that these two men have got the measure of each other. They collide again in the centre of the ring to a big pop from the crowd, Coleman hitting Curtis with a forearm uppercut that staggers the Truth, allowing Coleman to take him down to the mat with a double leg take-down, into a leg grapevine, into an ankle lock, into a camel clutch, into a legdrop to the back of Curtis's head, back to the leg grapevine, in a series of fluid motions that have the crowd cheering!] DD: Well, Coleman is quite the chain wrestler, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Sure, Don. Curtis was high school champion all four years, and he's a two-time NCAA champion, but Coleman was a great high school wrestler too. I think he's just trying to send a message to Curtis that he can hang with him. [Coleman releases the grapevine and backs off Curtis, inviting him to stand. Curtis rolls to his feet, a look somewhere between annoyance and appreciation on his face. Coleman kicks out with his right leg, slowing down the Truth, and slings Curtis's arm over his shoulder, grabs Curtis's tights... and then hoists him up for a vertical suplex! Coleman holds Curtis up above his head... holds him... holds him as flashes go off all over the arena... big pop as Coleman continues to hold him -- but as Curtis shifts his weight, Coleman staggers a little, his left knee gives way just a little, and Curtis comes crashing down to the mat, Coleman grabbing at his knee.] DD: Coleman is paying the price for showing off his impressive power, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Coleman's knee has taken a real battering in this match so far, Don. As Curtis shifted his weight, Coleman was forced to step out and put a lot of extra weight suddenly on that knee, and he just couldn't hold him. DD: It looks like Curtis may have landed a little awkwardly himself, almost getting tangled up in the ropes. BS: Let's hope that for Curtis's sake he hasn't blown out his knee again. DD: Both men are down at the moment, and Juan Morales is putting the count to the both of them. [Morales counts both Coleman and Curtis down, both men beginning to stir at the count of three, the crowd urging them on -- urging Coleman on? or urging Curtis on? -- with claps and cheers as they both come to their knees on the count of six... and then Curtis is up on the count of eight, Coleman not far behind him... and again both men collide in the middle of the ring. Curtis goes for a forearm strike... blocked by Coleman... Coleman goes for a forearm of his own... blocked by Curtis... the crowd are on their feet as the two men slug it out in the middle of the ring... heel pop!] DD: Curtis with a thumb to the throat! Curtis hooking up Coleman! BS: He's going for the Obituary! If he scores this hold, it could be all over for Coleman! [Indeed, Curtis hoists Coleman up into a vertical suplex position, but now it's Coleman's turn to shift his weight, and he drops to the mat on his feet, spins Curtis around, kicks him in the midsection, bends him double and puts his head between his legs. Pop from the crowd!] DD: Coleman escapes the Obituary, and now he looks to be going for a Southern Cross Bomb of his own! BS: We've already seen how effective this hold is! This could be it! [Coleman hoists Curtis up with a gutwrench so that the Truth is in a crucifix position above Coleman's head... but Curtis wriggles, and somehow manages to break free, sliding down Coleman's back and turning to grab him with a roll-up as he comes down! Morales makes the count... 1... 2... ...and Coleman springs out, reversing with a roll-up of his own! Morales counts again... 1... 2... ...heel pop as Curtis kicks out, sliding Coleman over on his shoulders to get another pinfall attempt! Another count... 1... 2... ...and Coleman kicks out, hooking his legs over Curtis's shoulders and forcing him back against the canvas again for *another* pinfall attempt! Another count! 1... 2... ...and Curtis kicks out again! The crowd is on its collective feet, cheering for both men, Curtis's frat boys in particular going ballistic in their little section on the arena floor, and now... and now the two men are just tearing at each other, each throwing blows at the other, Curtis even apparently resorting to hair-pulling... and Morales has to step in to separate them, pulling them apart as the crowd bays for more.] DD: My goodness, this has degenerated into a bar fight, Billy Shakespeare! BS: Both men feeling the frustration, Don. After each man has escaped the other's signature hold, after a sequence of near-falls, both must be wondering what it's going to take to put his opponent away! DD: Well, we're nearing our time limit on this match, but -- oh! [In the confusion, with the official between them, Curtis lashes out with a kick to Coleman's left shin, drawing a howl of pain from Coleman, and Curtis lunges in, Morales pushed aside, grabs Coleman around the midsection, hoists him up in a front waistlock... and *hot-shots* him across the top rope!] DD: FRONT PAGE MUGSHOT! FRONT PAGE MUGSHOT! [Curtis hangs on as the winded Coleman tumbles backwards, cradling Coleman for the pinfall attempt... 1... 2... ...3!] * DING! DING! DING! * DD: He's done it! Curtis has done it! Owen Curtis has pinned Mark Coleman, and he's going to face Johnny Pleasence in the tournament final! [Big mixed pop from the crowd as Curtis rolls to his feet, allowing Morales to raise his hand in victory as Sy Simmons