___ ______ __ _, _, _ ___ _,_ __, _ _ _ __, __, / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / \ |\ | | |_| |_ | | | |_) |_ / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / \ / | \| | | | | |/\| | | \ | /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~ Thursday 30 March 2006 [The by-now familiar riff of Semisonic's "F.N.T." jangles over the title sequence, and as the chyron swoops over a shot of the RCW's studios in downtown Portland, Oregon, we fade through to the studio itself, in which stands lead announcer Don Ditka, casually dressed in an open-necked shirt and a sports jacket, looking at a script in his hands. As the lights rise, Ditka smiles to the camera.] DD: Welcome everybody to another edition of RCW On The Wire, the world of professional wrestling in sixty minutes. I'm Don Ditka, and we're coming off the back of another tremendous RCW RAMPAGE event last Thursday in the Rose Garden here in beautiful Portland, Oregon. In the next hour, we're going to be looking back at last week's event, and then looking forward to next Thursday's show, which will be our biggest ever: we will crown our very first RCW Champion one week from tonight! So let's get straight down to it, with our RCW Rewind! ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / << << << << << << REWIND << << << << << << /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Ditka is now sat behind the desk in the studio, the plasma screen behind him to his right showing images from last week's RAMPAGE show.] DD: Folks, we had another blockbuster show in the Garden last Thursday night. Going into RAMPAGE, there were four men still in contention for the RCW Championship; coming out of the show, there were just two. [The screen behind Ditka shows footage from RAMPAGE, as the announcer provides a voice-over commentary. Paul Driscoll and Johnny Pleasence make their entrances... Vinny Carmazzi comes out to watch the match from the head of the aisle... Driscoll fells Pleasence with a lariat... Pleasence targets Driscoll's left knee... Pleasence is sent flying from the ring by Driscoll, receiving a hard landing on the steel barriers at ringside... Pleasence hits Driscoll with a DDT... Driscoll backing Pleasence into the corner with a flurry of forearms and punches... Pleasence drops the Pleasantries from England elbowdrop on Driscoll, then stubs out his cigarette on Driscoll's chest!... Driscoll lands a shot to Pleasence's face that breaks his nose, causing blood to stream out of it... Pleasence uses a steel chair on Driscoll's left leg, repeatedly hitting it and hitting it and hitting it... Driscoll goes for a spinebuster, but his leg gives way... Pleasence hits two Johnny Spikes in a row to pick up the pinfall victory over Driscoll... Driscoll makes his way up the aisle, receiving the cheers of the crowd, and walks right by Vinny Carmazzi, who is also applauding the Texan...] DD: The show was bookended by two tremendous matches on the RCW ROAD TO THE GOLD. In the night's opening match, "Pistol" Paul Driscoll was bested by arrogant Brit Johnny Pleasence. Pleasence and Driscoll went after each other at 150 miles per hour, but in the end it was Pleasence's willingness to take the low road as he repeatedly attacked Driscoll with a steel chair that saw him pick up the duke. Driscoll was disconsolate after the match, and even the applause of rival Vinny Carmazzi -- a sign of respect for the battle joined -- did nothing to raise his spirits. To editorialise for a moment, fans, I have to tell you that I am disgusted by Johnny Pleasence's lack of respect in this match, not only for his opponent -- smoking a cigarette while having Driscoll in a submission hold, for goodness' sake -- but also for our great sport. I can only hope that Pleasence bucks up his ideas in the tournament final: as of right now, I would be ashamed to see Pleasence crowned the RCW Champion next Thursday night. [Footage from the final match of the evening plays as Ditka again provides the voice-over... Owen Curtis emerges from under the ring and attacks Mark Coleman before the bell... Curtis targets Coleman's knee, hitting it with kicks and chop blocks... Curtis rides Coleman amateur-style, with a few slaps to the back of the head for good measure... Curtis with the STO judo sweep on Coleman... Curtis hits a series of chops on his opponent... Coleman fights back with some chops of his own... Coleman goes for a vertical suplex on Curtis, but his knee gives way... both men slug it out in the middle of the ring, blocking each others' punches... Coleman goes for the Southern Cross Bomb, but Curtis wriggles free, and the two men end up in a series of near falls... Curtis eventually hits the Front Page Mugshot for the pinfall... Curtis celebrates with his drunken frat boy fans in the front rows...] DD: The final match of the night saw Owen "Truth" Curtis advance over Tennessee rookie Mark Coleman. In an unexpected turn of events, Curtis spent much of the match targeting the left knee of Coleman -- a slightly perverse strategy, given that it is Curtis who has the bum left knee -- but the strategy paid off: a key turning point in the match came when Coleman attempted a showboating vertical suplex on Curtis, only for his knee to give way. In the end, Curtis was able to get the pinfall by way of the Front Page Mugshot, and it's "The Truth" who now goes on to face Johnny Pleasence in the tournament final. Mark Coleman matched Curtis almost step for step, however, and there's no shame in his defeat on this night -- Coleman remains one to watch here in Rip City Wrestling. [The screen shows footage of another match as Ditka continues to provide the voice-over. Liam Cassidy divests himself of his possessions at the foot of the aisle, frustrating Trevor Lansing in the ring... Lansing hammers Cassidy with a series of kicks... Cassidy lifts a knee and catches Lansing in the groin... Lansing hits Cassidy with a hammerlock powerslam... Cassidy lays Lansing out with an uppercut, and official Bobby Belshee makes the count... Lansing gets the schoolboy on Cassidy to score the pinfall...] DD: The night's other action saw the world's first wrestling hobo, "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy, take on "The Unbreakable" Trevor Lansing in a one-on-one meeting, after Lansing blamed Cassidy for not advancing from the first round of the ROAD TO THE GOLD tournament. Cassidy may have just about the worst wrestling technique I've ever seen in all my years in the sport -- but he's a quick learner, and despite Lansing picking up the win last week, these two men are going to mix it up one more time next Thursday night... about which more later! [We see footage from another match as Ditka provides the commentary. Bailey Fitzgerald and Ryan Faith shakes hands in the ring before their match... Faith fells Fitzgerald with a high kick... Fitzgerald ducks under another kick, and hits back with a kick of his own... Faith attempts a standing moonsault, but Fitzgerald rolls out of the way... Fitzgerald hits a Tiger Driver on his opponent, but Faith kicks out of the ensuing pinfall attempt... Faith hits a Dragon suplex into a bridge on Fitzgerald, but Bailey kicks out... Faith goes for the Test of Faith, but Fitzgerald wriggles free and locks in his Buffalo sleeper... Official Juan Morales stops the match and declares Fitzgerald the winner...] DD: After receiving a pep-talk from Antipodean behemoth Madrock The Irrepressible, rookie Bailey Fitzgerald stepped up to the plate and defeated fellow youngster Ryan Faith with the Buffalo sleeper in what proved to be a hard-hitting, high-impact match between two exciting prospects. These two men will get the chance to mix it up again next Thursday night in the Garden, under different circumstances. [Footage from the night's fourth match plays on the screen as Ditka again provides the voice-over... Danny Daniels tries to sell his "Your Hero" t-shirts... Ben Waterson tries to get Kolya Sudakov to wear a single red glove... Orin LeBlanc and Kolya Sudakov lock up in the middle of the ring, LeBlanc felling the Russian... LeBlanc tags in Madrock the Irrepressible... Madrock gets hit by a savate kick from Sudakov... finally Sudakov knocks Madrock down... Sudakov wraps his arms around Madrock with a triangle choke... Sudakov hits a German suplex on his opponent... Danny Daniels sells a t-shirt to a fan in the front row while Sudakov is battling it out in the ring... Madrock makes the hot tag to LeBlanc, who scores a series of near-falls on Sudakov, but can't pin the Russian... LeBlanc eventually hits the Snowblind Guillotine face driver on Sudakov, which is enough to pick up the pinfall... Post-match, Sudakov takes the red glove from Waterson and hits a spinning backfist on Daniels, followed by his trademark high kick, leaving "Your Hero" lying...] DD: Our tag team turmoil match for the night certainly lived up to its name. The team of Kolya Sudakov and "Your Hero" Danny Daniels turned out to be less than ideal in terms of team-work -- Daniels was far more interested in selling his famous yellow t-shirt than he was in participating in the match, with the result that Sudakov had to face both LeBlanc and Madrock single-handed for the entire match. The pro-wrestling hunter/killer was truly impressive in fighting off both opponents, but in the end succumbed to LeBlanc's Snowblind guillotine face driver. After the match, with "Agent to the Stars" directing traffic, Sudakov unloaded on Daniels with a spinning back fist which, we are reliably informed, is called the "Pimp Slap." Sudakov and Daniels will go one-on-one next Thursday night on RAMPAGE, so stay tuned for more on that blockbuster match-up. [Ditka continues to provide the commentary as we see footage from another match... "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado jumps Vinny Carmazzi on his way down to the ring with a running bulldog... Carmazzi traps Dorado in the Kimuri Armbar in the early going, only for Dorado to make the ropes... Dorado seeks solace in the bosom of Jodee Burwick... Dorado bounces from the apron to the top rope, then lands a legdrop on the throat of Carmazzi... Dorado hits a moonsault on Carmazzi... makes another moonsault attempt, and this time lands painfully on Vinny's raised knees... Dorado goes for a missile dropkick -- that misses!... Carmazzi gets the Kimuri armbar for a second time, and Dorado breaks the hold with an elbow to Vinny's groin... and finally Carmazzi gets the Kimuri Armbar for a third time, and despite nearly escaping, this time Dorado is forced to tap...] DD: Finally, let's talk about the match between "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado and Vinny Carmazzi. These two men had an absolute barn-burner, Dorado's high-risk, high-flying style contrasting with Carmazzi's deliberate submission holds. In the end Carmazzi picked up the win after applying the Kimuri Armbar for the third time, Dorado left with no choice but to submit. Time will tell whether we've seen the last of these two competitors locking it up. [The screen behind Ditka now shows the RCW RAMPAGE logo.] DD: Folks, we have to take a short commercial break. When we return, we'll run down the blockbuster matches scheduled for the next RCW RAMPAGE show, one week from tonight in the Garden. Tickets are still available for this event, which is sure to be our biggest to date, with the crowning of the first-ever RCW Champion. Get down to the Rose Garden's box office in person, or click onto www.ticketmaster.com to make sure you're a part of the action. We'll be right back! [Fade to commercials.] [Fade back up to the studio.] ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / >< >< >< >< >< RAMPAGE RUNDOWN >< >< >< >< >< /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [The screen behind Ditka shows the RCW Championship belt between the faces of Owen Curtis and Johnny Pleasence.] DD: In just seven days' time, we will have our very first RCW Champion. Top of the card with the bullet is the RCW ROAD TO THE GOLD tournament final, pitting Britain's Johnny Pleasence against Oregon's own Owen "Truth" Curtis. Let's hear from both of the men who'll be battling it out for the big gold belt now. [We're looking down. A green blur shines on a concrete floor.] VOICE: So ... let's sum up the score. You smoke too much, you drink on the job, no one understands your so-called vocabulary, your taste in women is hideous, you're cynical, you always look and act bored, you cheat to get ahead, you dress in the SAME black outfit just about every day... [Pause, as the speaker takes a breath... ] VOICE: ...and to top it all off, you obviously don't give a damn about other people. [The camera pans upward slowly, until we see the figure that was reflected in the concrete. The man is clad in a green sweatsuit, wearing green and gold Tiger wrestling shoes. He's standing in an entrance tunnel... but NOT at the Rose Garden. There's a towel over his shoulder, precisely two days of stubble on his chin, and a smirk on his face.] OWEN "TRUTH" CURTIS: You may call yourself the "Big Bad" -- "Big Bad" WHAT is the question -- but you remind me more of several people I know who are reporters for The Oregonian, only you're a little bit more charming. But just a little. [He snickers to himself a bit.] OTC: But enough about you, Johnny Pleasence. There's a beginning, middle and end in every story, and I'm not about to tell yours. No, this is a different story -- and you're merely the antagonist at the time being. Let's start at the beginning, which is where we're at right now. We're not at the Rose Garden. Go a block closer to the river. That's right. Memorial Coliseum. There's not much that happens at the Coliseum anymore -- sure, Franz Ferdinand and Death Cab played a show here a few weeks ago -- but if you're from Oregon, you know there's a lot of history here. [He looks around the empty arena, glancing up to evoke the memories of the past.] OTC: Some high points. August 22, 1965 -- The Beatles play their only concert here. June 5, 1977 -- The Portland Trail Blazers win the NBA Championship over the Philadelphia 76ers. I was 3 years old. 1983, the Portland Winter Hawks win the Memorial Cup of junior hockey. And then 1992 -- the last time I wrestled in the middle of this arena. It was the Oregon high school championships. Which if you've studied up on me, you know I won for the fourth year in a row. A pretty rare accomplishment, but even so, nothing spectacular in the grand scheme of things. It wasn't a world championship or anything like that. I imagine you're amused that I even brought it up. But something you should know, as all good reporters do -- the meaning is all about context. A high school wrestling title is not much, but it got me started. I went on to two national college titles and a professional title, before my career was cut short. I was out of the game nine years before deciding I just couldn't close the door for good. I had to wrestle again. And now I'm here. Memorial Coliseum. One block from the Rose Garden. Just a short distance from my goal. [Owen starts walking across the empty arena floor at Memorial Coliseum. The camera stays ahead of him, keeping him in frame the whole time.] OTC: I don't know how you feel, but me, I've been through two tough rounds to get to this point. This is it. The big enchilada. The Rip City Wrestling championship. And you and I -- we'll fight, one week from tonight, and find out who will be the first to wear it around his waist. [Owen continues through a tunnel and, as he continues talking, out past a concourse and into the sunny spring daylight.] OTC: It's a brand new belt -- never touched by the blood or the sweat of a champion -- but there's one important thing it does contain. Desire. We all know objects don't have feelings, but if this new belt could wish for just one thing, it would want to carry on Portland's proud history of the best in professional wrestling. We all know about it, but let me hit some high spots. The Double Eye _owned_ the nation's living rooms, and it all emanated from this town. A while before that, it was Pacific Coast Wrestling that stood in the spotlight. Wild, crazy nights. Good times. Great television -- and even better in person. [By now, Owen has reached the middle of the Rose Quarter. The main Portland skyline is now visible behind him, on the other side of the Willamette River. He stops.] OTC: You know, I may say a lot of things about this town, and this state. There's no question I've spewed insults and hurt people's feelings. I've shown disrespect for some good people along the way. And what's more, I'm not even sorry that I did it. I'm a writer. You never take back the words you say in service of your job. You only add to them, as the Truth unfolds, so let me do exactly that. The people here may be good at heart, but Oregon is in some regards, a backwater hellhole. Lyle Lovett said, "Redneckedness has got to be a disease," and some of the small towns around here prove it in spades. The big towns aren't much better. Hell, they're run by incestuous political machines. There, I said it. So sue me. But you can't sue me. Why? Because in a libel suit, Truth is an absolute defense, and Truth is what I represent. [Owen now continues on across the plaza -- toward the big building at the other end of the Rose Quarter. The Rose Garden arena.] OTC: The question, Johnny Pleasence, is what do you represent? Lies? Manipulation? Misdirection? Indifference? Overconfidence? A total triumph of style over substance? Sound and fury, signifying nothing? No one knows. And if you had your druthers, I bet no one WILL know, but my English friend... it doesn't matter, because this is about me. When I say things that people don't like, it's with a purpose. Not just to piss them off. And not just to play with their head, either. So they may yell at me. They may boo me. And they might even hate me, depending on what I wrote that day or said at some particular moment in time. I am totally fine with that. It's not the Truth if someone's not angry that I said it. But next Wednesday night, Johnny, none of that is going to happen, and you know why? Because deep down, they like me. They respect me around here, they know I am truly one of their own, and they know I represent the BEST of what Oregon has to offer. [He stops. He has arrived at the athlete's entrance to the Rose Garden.] OTC: My journey is almost complete. The Rip City championship belt? THAT is the story I'm telling. It's the story of wrestling, the story of Portland, and the story of me. Because if that belt had desires, Johnny... I know and these PEOPLE know... it wouldn't want _you_ to be its first owner. To be held in your not-so-loving clutches, that belt would feel like nothing but a hostage. No, that belt would NOT want you. It would want an uncompromising athlete who plays hard but deep down is a champion. Somebody home grown who can really stand tall. That someone is Owen Curtis, and that's the Truth. [He pulls open the door, starts to step inside, and pauses.] OTC: You can bring your smokes, bring your crazy hag, and even bring your much-fabled "wrinklies" if they can stand the thought of being overshadowed. It's just not going to matter. When destiny is written this clearly, and Truth is spelled out in advance, you don't argue or protest. You just sit, watch and smile, and next Wednesday, I see 16,000 Oregonians doing exactly that. The Truth, by definition, is something that can't be denied ... and next Thursday night, I _won't_ be. The question is, how black and blue will you get trying to stop me? Choke on _that_, you bloody git. And when you do... [He stops for one last look] OTC: ...you'll be choking on The Truth. [Owen disappears into the Rose Garden, leaving us behind as the door closes. We wipe-fade to a shot of Johnny Pleasence, clad in all black as usual, as he sits in a steel chair in front of a Rip City Wrestling backdrop.] V: And so it begins, children. The big bad end... [Matilda is strangely absent, and Pleasence is busying himself tossing a pack of Camel Turkish Golds back and forth in his hands as he continues...] JP: Been a long trip... hell of a journey so far, right? Met a lot of interesting people, punched all of them in the soddin' face... it's been a fun time. And now? History in the making. [Pleasence taps out a cigarette.] JP: I've worked my whole life to get to this point -- gone from federation from federation looking for my shot, and now that I've finally arrived at my destiny... the industry's biggest ponce is standing in my way. Owen "the Truth" Curtis... [Pleasence spits.] JP: Give me a soddin' break. [Pleasence tosses his pack of cigarettes off screen.] JP: Is this the best you've got, Rip City?! Half a man that's been groomin' _himself_ for the World Title while the rest of you whined and cried about what you planned to do, which is understandable... I mean, one of you's a soddin' retard, and the rest of you just don't know any better... [Pleasence laughs.] JP: Anyway, the lot of you just let Curtis and his manufactured career slide right into the "big time", didn't you? Guess "the Truth" really got to you, didn't it? Just couldn't handle that one "scathing" testimonial on the website, hmm? When it comes down to it... Rip City accepted the fact that yes, collectively they were more mediocre than a man who... needs his fraternity brothers to be his only fans... because let's face it, no one really likes an over-the-hill gimp with delusions of grandeur after all. [Pleasence lets that one sink in for a moment before continuing.] JP: But, there's a light at the end of the tunnel, children. The Big Bad's here to save you all... even if I don't want to. [Pleasence takes a drag off his cigarette.] JP: The lot of you don't deserve me as your world champion... but when faced with the alternative, I guess it's my duty as a man and an upstanding human being to put Curtis right where he belongs -- in the ground. I guess that when it comes down to it, I'm the only man in this dungheap fit to do the job. Not Coleman. Not Carmazzi. Not Faith. Me. The Lord of Darkness. Finally... I'll reign supreme... and that? [Pleasence smirks.] JP: That, children, is when the fun really begins. [Pleasence flicks his cigarette away.] JP: I'll see you soon, Curtis... and when I do, I bloody well guarantee that it won't be pretty. Face the _facts_, you git -- I'm coming for my belt, Owen... and I will _not_ be denied. Especially not this time... [And with that, we cut back to Ditka. The screen behind him now shows the faces of "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado and Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc.] DD: Last week on RAMPAGE, Nolan Dorado was on the losing end of his match with Vinny Carmazzi, while RCW's sole Canadian competitor, Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc was on the winning team. Will their fortunes be reversed this week when they go one-on-one? Both men had comments for our cameras -- let's hear them now. [Fade in on trees... a pond... a wooden bridge... and a pagoda? Ah, okay. This must be the Classical Chinese Garden in Portland.] VO: [matter-of-factly] Tryin' to acquaint myself with the surroundin' area an' the like... [Approaching the bridge now is Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc. Dressed in his beat-up brown leather jacket and jeans, he looks over at the camera and shrugs.] OL: Gotta admit, felt somethin' was a bit lackin' last Rampage out. Sure, I got the dubbya an' all, but it didn't seem right. [Orin idly flicks a pebble into the pond, then smirks.] OL: Probably 'cause I didn't get any chance to pound on that doof Daniels. After all, it's only polite an' I'm all for sharin' the pain! But what's done is done. The Russkie an' his mouthpiece an' Danny Boy all get to do their dance again. [He chuckles a little.] OL: They deserve each other. Me, I gotta square off against that Dorado fella. He sure likes them gold shiny-shinies, don't he? Likes himself too. Course, the way Mister Carmazzi had him screamin' last time, I'm thinkin' "Fool's Gold" is more like it. An' if he's still fixated on Vinny there... [The Lynx grins.] OL: ...I'm seein' the possibility o' an easy night. Possibility, mind you. Unlike Goldenrod an' a few others here, I allow myself to think that others might have worth in that ring! That, despite situations an' circumstances, out there is the equal opportunity for all! [A beat. Then the Lynx's grin grows broader.] OL: But in your case, Noli, I might just make an exception. Never did get to dish out Daniels' share... [LeBlanc shakes his head thoughtfully.] OL: ...an' it'd be a shame to let it go to waste. [He waves the camera off as he continues the path along the bridge. The scene switches to a generic hallway with the camera focused on a closed door. Beside the door, leaning against the wall and looking particularly immodest is Jodee Burwick who is dressed in stiletto heels, a skin-tight miniskirt and a deeply cut blouse that shows off her ample (and likely artificially enhanced) cleavage all the way down to her navel. The effect is spoiled by the fact that her makeup is excessively heavy and her tan is visibly artificial but the former cheerleader makes a game attempt at looking brazen while she mugs for the camera. A loud thump from the other side of the door rattles it on its hinges and Burwick flinches for a second before regaining her false smile.] JD: Oh! Uh... as you may have noticed, "The Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado... my man... my very, VERY talented man... is a little out of sorts right now. [Another thump from the other side of the door is followed by an angry stream of invectives that wouldn't be getting past any network censors if they could be made out clearly.] JD: Vinnie Carzummi... [The bottle-blonde interrupts herself.] JD: I mean, Vinnie Carmuzzi... you think you may have accomplished something by that tainted victory you won but I can tell you this... you've only started a fire that's going to burn you to cinders! [A giggle brings a highly manicured finger up to bee-stung lips but the effect is spoiled when a loud crash can be heard on the other side of the door followed by a scream of rage.] JD: So now RCW has decided to put "The Golden One" into the ring against Orville Leblank. Well, Orville... I almost feel sorry for you... *WHAM!* [This time Burwick recoils from the wall as a loud split can be seen down the center of the wooden door from where something struck it on the opposite side. Again, unseen bellows of fury can be heard as Burwick regains her composure and titters nervously.] JD: I feel sorry for you, Mister Leblank. Because you're going to have to be the one to deal with the repercussions of the raging volcano that my "Golden One" has become. Blame Carzummi... or Carmuzzi, or whatever the hell his name is. The Golden Guillotine is going to fall on your neck and it's that curtain-jerking chump from New Jersey who's to blame! [With an indignant "Hmph!", Burwick turns away from the camera and knocks shyly on the damaged door.] JD: Nolan, honey? Is it OK if I come in now? *WHAM!* [Another split in the door sends Burwick backpedaling as she squeals in fright.] JD: Errr... I'm going to go powder my nose. This interview is over! [And with that, she teeters out of sight as the camera zooms in on the broken door where a thin fracture of light can be seen through the splintered gap in the wood. From the other side of the door, more screams of outrage can be heard before the scene cuts away. Back in the studio, the screen behind Ditka shows the faces of Bailey Fitzgerald and Madrock The Irrepressible on one side, and Ryan Faith and Jake Andrews on the other.] DD: It'll be another dose of tag team turmoil next Thursday night when giant Australian Madrock The Irrepressible teams with the young man who is now perhaps his protegé, Bailey Fitzgerald, to take on the man Fitzgerald defeated last week, Ryan Faith, and his partner for the night, Jake Andrews. Madrock is encouraging Bailey not to back down from a fight, and on the strength of last week's match, it's advice Fitzgerald is taking to heart. Let's hear from the combatants in this encounter now. My broadcast colleague Jamie Bond caught up with Madrock the Irrepressible earlier today. [AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!! Apologies, it's just that starting this segment with a close-up on Madrock's disheveled face is quite unsettling! Picture if you will a nose that has seen its share of breaks, crazy-ass hair growing wild across his head and about thirteen rotten teeth smilling at you. Too much for the average man, I say. Nevertheless, let's start this scene in the appropriate manner.] M: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!! Madrock 'ere, an I'z da bane uv' Brisbane, da monster from Almunster, da freak up Abbotts Peak! JB: WOAAAAAAAAH there Madrock!!! Your faithful man on the mic, whom you can't dislike, the reporter's first strike is HERE! I'm Jamie Bond and I'd like to respond, your Wallopin' Wallaby Welcome show inspired me SO much that I'm talking like you now! Minus the blarmy accent! Or do I? Madrock, what you've got to say? M: I'z juss 'ere ta kongrachulate da Charlie Brown dats teamin' up wif me on 'iz firss win 'ere, an' ta give a rebuttal to da butthole, Donny Daniels! Did 'ee say dat "People don't wanna 'ear me?" Are ya ribbin' me Donny? Mine are da werdz dat give people da courage to stand up an' foight! You saw it fer yerself last week! I sez da werdz dat get ta people to 'FROW DOWN! You suh, are PUKE! You sez da werdz dat get ta people to 'FROW UP! Now I don't lissen to yer cock n' bull, I lissen to rock n' roll; an' you suh are noize pollushun! Can't git no satisfakshun! I play da honky tonk on da canvas floor wif 'fousands uv' screamin' fans swiggin' to my beat! My pal Charlie Brown 'az done signin' da blues and Johnny P. 'finks 'ees Ozzy Osbourne while Owen Curtis iz all about Disco Duckin' da Madrock so 'ee don't get SMUSHED! You kin play da Country moo-ooosic like Paul Driscoll but you can't get more souffern' den dis Australian; an' Charlie Brown an' I are da only ones wif da record breaking smash 'it dat'll git ya signin' to a diff'rent tune when Iz comin' to bust a groove, bust a rhyme, bust yer FACE an' maybe even make a dent on yer sales profit! JB: Madrock, I'm not so sure what you just said, but it sure sounds pretty painful for the rest of the RCW roster. Tell us, oh Irrepressible one, what's the deal here? M: The deal iz, ol' Madrock ain't finished 'till 'ees at da TOP uv' da RCW, an' ees doin' DOUBLE TIME ta git dere! Ryan Faiff, Jake Andrews, wots you gots ta know iz dat I'z da guy that 'its da 'ardest, shouts da loudest, drinks da most, dats no boast! One part Jim Hawkins an' one part Roy Shaw: I'z da greatest damn rassler ya've evva saw! Fact uv' da matta iz, I 'aven't much 'eard a peep from eivver uv' em and that's just the way I likes it! An' I ain't juss talkin' 'bout dem two! I'm shuttin' mawfs all ovva da place, quietin' da disbelieva's an' puttin' MY NAME on ev'ryone's lips! So just ask my pal Bailey: you ravver 'aff ol' Madrock WIF YOU den AGAINST YOU, cuz Madrock, 'ee only 'finks 'bout 'free 'fings! FOIGHTIN', KICKIN' ASS AN' WINNIN'!! A'right Jamie Bond, I'm 'froo 'ere! JB: Well, folks, there you have it, anyway you spin it, who's gonna win it? The maddest Aussie around and Charlie Brown, coming back to town in Oregon! Take it away, Don! [Cut back to the studio. The screen behind Ditka shows the face of Ryan Faith, with a question mark next to it.] DD: Before we leave this match, folks, just a quick note. RCW officials haven't heard from Ryan Faith since his defeat at the hands of Bailey Fitzgerald last week at RAMPAGE. All eyes will be on the Garden next Thursday night to see whether Faith shows up. Let's move on. [The graphic behind Ditka now shows the faces of Kolya Sudakov and "Agent to the Stars" Ben Waterson on one side, and "Your Hero" Danny Daniels on the other.] DD: Last week's tag team partners become this week's adversaries, as pro-wrestling hunter/killer Kolya Sudakov -- who made such an impressive showing last week practically single-handed against the much larger team of Orin LeBlanc and Madrock the Irrepressible -- takes on the man who was present in body but not in mind, "Your Hero" Danny Daniels. Will we find out this week whether the heart of a wrestler beats beneath the sunglasses and the entrepeneurship of the San Francisco native? Both men had comments for us. [Fade in from black to a plain looking door. A hastily-scribbled note rests on a torn sheet of yellow legal pad paper reading, "DO NOT DISTURB!" Our camerman knocks gently.] C: Mr. Waterson? [No response is heard.] C: I hate this job sometimes... I really do. [Another soft knock.] C: Mr. Sudakov? [The cameraman mumbles something under his breath... something likely to be offensive to young ears if it could be heard.] C: Anyone there? [He knocks a lot harder this time, the sign on the door flapping from the impact... ...and suddenly, the door swings open. The cameraman is surprised, stumbling backwards but somehow holding the camera still enough to get a decent shot. Cold eyes. Flaring nostrils. Gritted teeth. And a look that would likely kill as quickly as the man wearing it if the mood struck him wrong.] C: Uh..err...uhh... [The glare of Kolya Sudakov seems to freeze the cameraman's tongue, making him count on one hand the seconds he has left before ending up in a wheelchair for the rest of his days. Ben Waterson's face appears above his client's left shoulder, a sheen of nervous sweat covering it.] BW: Can't you read?! NO COMMENT! [The door slams shut... ...and the scene cuts to black. We wipe-cut to see the gleaming teeth, the wraparound shades, and the flowing blonde locks of Danny Daniels. He's wearing one of the "YOUR HERO" t-shirts, and gives a small wave to the camera as he grins.] D'YH'D: Hi. I'm Danny 'Your Her...' [Danny pauses, then shakes his head, holding up one finger as he starts again.] D'YH'D: Hi. I'm Danny 'Your UNDEFEATED Hero' Daniels, a man so nice they named me twice. [A full grin breaks out across his face.] D'YH'D: In my lengthy RCW career, I've never been beaten! Or pinned! Not once! It's an impressive record, even to... ME! 'Your Undefeated Hero', Danny Daniels. [Danny points to himself.] D'YH'D: Now, obviously, for every winner in RCW there's a loser. And when you've had the unbeaten streak that I've had, that means lots of people are losers. Like Koala Sudafed. He'd lost EVERY match he's been in! That's right -- he's never won... EVER! As 'Your Undefeated Hero', I feel sorry for the man. And so should you. That's why I sent him, and his manager, Barry Watersoniovichski, a pair of THESE shirts...… [Danny points to the "Your Hero" t-shirt.] D'YH'D: To make him feel better. The man needs help. He tries, though. I mean, he's a mixed martial arts champion. His manager is a mixed martial arts champion. Everyone is kung-fu fighting. Those cats are fast as lightning. In fact, it's a little bit frightening... But they haven't fought with expert timing. [Danny shakes his head.] D'YH'D: For instance, last week Koala did this [makes air quotes] “Pimp Slap” attack with a funky red glove. And I thought that it's a GREAT idea! A red glove! How cool is that? That's Mad Stylin', Yo! [Danny flashes a 'thumbs up' to the camera.] D'YH'D: But the thing is, Koala, you missed Madrock. You missed Oren. You hit... ME! 'Your Undefeated Hero'! My lord, your aim is bad! No wonder you can't win a match. You keep hitting the wrong guy! [Danny shakes his head, a sorrowful look on his face.] D'YH'D: But that's OK, Koala. This week, we get to be opponents! That means that you're going to try and hit your smoking hot “Pimp Slap” attack on me... which means that you'll miss and probably hit Nolanolanolano instead, even though he'll still be in the locker room! [Danny makes a 'tsk' sound.] D'YH'D: You'll end up losing, Koala... because that's what you do! But that's all right, because you'll be in the ring with... ME! 'Your Undefeated Hero', Danny Daniels. And just being in my presence is enough to put a smile on your face. See you in the ring... [Danny waves to the camera] D'YH'D: TOODLES~! [We cut back to Ditka. The screen behind him now shows a graphic pitting "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy against "The Unbreakable" Trevor Lansing.] DD: Next up, the rematch between illegal bareknuckle boxer Liam Cassidy and submission specialist Trevor Lansing. It's been a rough road for Cassidy thus far in RCW, though one has to admit that he has brought his hardship on himself: the man has no wrestling experience, and you have to wonder whether his baptism by fire against the highly-accomplished Lansing will come to a happy end next Thursday night in a Last Man Standing match. Earlier this week we sent our intrepid young reporter Jamie Bond out to find "The Jersey Drifter." Here's the report he filed. [We fade up on a beautiful sunny morning at the park. Willamette Park to be precise, as evidenced by a large sign in the background. Rip City Wrestling's resident intern, young Jamie Bond is walking along a pathway, holding an RCW microphone. He appears to be searching for something, or someone. He turns back to the cameraman.] JB: Did you have any luck? Cameraman: Nope. Nothing. JB: Well, the guy at the soup kitchen said he was around here somewhere. [The camera pans away, panning across Portland's beautiful Willamette River and the surrounding pathway. The sun is just breaking through the clouds, and shines through the trees. He turns back to face Bond, who is walking further down a trail. Two beautiful female joggers approach Jamie as the jog along the path.] JB: Excuse me ladies, have you... [The two girls just giggle and keep running past Jamie, shutting him down hard. The cameraman can be heard snickering to himself as he follows Jamie. The dejected intern stops and takes a seat at a set of benches after clearing off some tattered newspapers and coffee cups.] JB: Well, I don't know what to do. We've been out here for forty-five minutes already. Maybe he's just not here. Voice: Excuse me, Mr. Bond, but would you mind keeping it down a notch? [The pile of newspapers on the next bench move as ?The Jersey Drifter? Liam Cassidy arises from his makeshift bed of park bench and papers for covers.] LC: Some of us are trying to get some sleep, ya know. [Startled by the sudden movement, Bond fumbles his microphone and drops it. He quickly scoops it up off the floor.] JB: Cassidy! Liam Cassidy! We've been looking all over for you! LC: Yeah, well so was them police fellers who wanted to kick me out of here. So I had to hide. JB: Well... what?! [The young intern pauses to think about that for a moment.] JB: Look Mr. Cassidy, the RCW President has got staff looking all over for you! Why are you sleeping out here? LC: Because the price is right. I ain't been paid yet by that Spreadbury guy so I can't even afford the Y. And that's never good. JB: Wait. I thought you were an accomplished underground boxer? Where's your money from that? [Cassidy looks away to let out a small belch. As he does, a pint of Jim Bean falls off the bench and lands on the ground.] JB: Never mind. LC: So you go back to Spreadbury and tell him if he wants me to make him any money in that ring, he'd better start paying me cash or else I'm out of here. I got me a fight in Des Moines where I know I'll get paid up-front for my trouble. JB: Well that's the problem Liam. Apparently you haven't given your banking information to payroll yet. That's why Dan wanted to find you. LC: Banking information? That's a laugh. JB: Why's that? LC: Look at me, Bond. You think I'd trust the bank with what I do? I carry anything and everything I own with me at all times. I ain't got time for banks. JB: That's kind of sad, actually. [Cassidy ignores the jab and slowly gets up from the bench. He stretches out his neck and cracks his finger tips.] LC: So you're saying I have my money coming to me? JB: Well, you're about four weeks behind... so that should be a few grand anyway. Now Liam, I have to ask you about Trevor Lansing, your opponent for... What? [The moment Bond uttered the words ?a few grand?, Cassidy's jaw dropped and he continues to stand there, in shock.] JB: Are you all right, Liam? LC: A few grand? JB: Well, I don't the know the specific details of your contract, but I imagine... LC: A few *grand*?!? JB: Well... maybe. I think so. Sure? [Cassidy hops up in the air in celebration. He quickly puts an end to that as the drunken rubber legs don't like that too much. The smile on his face says it all though.] LC: Well, what the Hell are we doing here Jamie? Let's go get me paid! [Cassidy gathers up his few assorted belongings... A half-empty bottle of Crown Royal whiskey, a ?fresh? undershirt, an apple, a pen, a pair of brass knuckles, and for some reason a paperback copy of ?The Future of an Illusion? by Sigmund Freud. Cassidy grabs his black fedora hat and flips it onto his head. He pulls Bond with him. The Flying Lizards' version of ?Money? comes up as we see Cassidy walking out of the RCW payroll office clutching the ?large? cheque. His hands are trembling and his eyes bulge out of their sockets as he stares at the four-figure number written on the piece of paper... The next shot is of Cassidy stepping out of a bank, now with a large wad of cash in his hands. His eyes are fixated on the twenty dollar bills as he walks away. Jamie Bond appears to be waiting outside for him, and quickly follows behind.] # The best things in life are free # # But you can give them to the birds and bees # # I want money # [The next shot is of Cassidy and Bond inside Wal-Mart. They are in the men's section and Liam is sporting a brand new plaid sweater, and he's checking himself out in the mirror as he models it... We then see Cassidy digging through a clearance bin full of boxer shorts. He holds up a pair and looks to Jamie for his approval. Jamie just turns beat red and walks away.] # That's what I want # # That's what I want # # That's what I want # [The twosome sitting at IHOP, with a giant plate of pancakes sitting in front of Cassidy, who is just devouring them. People seated around the duo stare in horror as Liam gorges on the pancakes. Jamie just covers his face in shame as Cassidy yells out for more syrup. Cut next to a do it yourself carwash, where Cassidy is standing in the buff, his manhood covered by the black fedora hat. He gives a big grin and a thumb's up to Bond who is standing several feet away, holding a waterhose with one hand, and covering his eyes with the other. He turns it on, hosing down Cassidy.] # That's what I want # # That's what I want # # That's what I want # [Cassidy stands at ?Honest? Ed's Used Cars. Behind him is a nasty looking rusted out Chevette car, with a large $500 price tag on the windshield. Cassidy shakes hands with the sleazy looking ?Honest? Ed as Jamie kicks the tires, which causes one of the side mirrors to fall off...The following shot is of Liam and Jamie at the beer store, loading up the Chevette with cases and cases of Mexico's finest import, Corona beer.] # Your love gives me such a thrill # # But your love won't pay my bills # # I want money # [The next shot we see Cassidy and a very, VERY queasy looking Jamie Bond sitting right up front in pervert's row, surrounded by empty beer bottles. Cassidy's having the time of his life, while Bond is doing his best to look down and probably not throw up. We see a set of gorgeous legs on stage and suddenly a bra is flung through the air and lands on Bond's head. Cassidy hoots and hollers and slaps Bond on the back.] # That's what I want # # That's what I want # That's what I want # [We are now at a tattoo parlor. Liam is on the chair, getting a new tattoo on his right arm. Meanwhile in the background, Jamie Bond is cowering in the corner, whimpering as a rather large, mean biker looking tattoo artist closes in on him. The following shot is of Liam smoking a thick stoagie, waving wads of cash in the air as he and Jamie are surrounding by other dirty looking lowlives. They stand ?ringside? for a cockfight. All of the men are shouting and hollering as the chickens engage one another. Suddenly the doors in the back burst open, and policemen storm into the room ordering everyone to freeze. Of course, everyone runs. Cassidy stuffs the cash in his pockets, grabs a hold of his fedora and then Jamie and quickly leads him away as the cops give chase.] # Money don't get everything it's true # # But what it don't get I can't use # # I want money # [A very worn out and tired looking Bond and Cassidy are walking out of a Starbucks coffee house. Liam is slurping back on a Mocha Frappuccino. The whip cream sticks to his short beard. Cassidy pulls out the flask of whisky and quickly pours it into Jamie's cup as he looks the other way. The music fades so we can pick up on the conversation.] LC: So you're saying I'm gonna get paid three grand, every two weeks? JB: Well that's what your contract states... That's actually kind of low compared to... [Bond sees that blank, happy expression on Cassidy's face again. He sighes.] JB: Never mind... [The music comes back up.] # I want money # # I want lots of money # # In fact I want so much money # # Give me your money # # Just give me money # [The last sequence shows Liam practically dragging the semi-conscious young RCW intern into a Motel6. We then see a very, VERY drunken Liam Cassidy laying on the motel bed, surrounding by a pile of one and five dollar bills. Jamie is in the background in the washroom, puking his guts up into the toilet.] LC: So lad... What do ya figure we'll do tomorrow? [Bond groans and the bathroom door slams shut. Cassidy just lays on the bed. As we see the drunken and very happy look on the face of ?The Jersey Drifter?, and as the music fades out, we cut back to Ditka in the studio, who is now seated beside a besuited, bespectacled man who we immediately recognise as the RCW President.] DD: Before we talk about the final match on next week's card, I'm very happy to be joined in the studio tonight by RCW President Daniel Spreadbury. Thank you very much for joining us. DS: As ever, it's a pleasure, Don. DD: We should really talk about the assignments you send young Jamie Bond on. But that's another discussion for another time. Now, the sixth and final match on next week's RAMPAGE card sees the two men who lost out in the second round of the RCW ROAD TO THE GOLD tournament last week face each other -- it's "Pistol" Paul Driscoll vs. Mark Coleman. And you have some important information concerning this match? DS: I do. Next Thursday night we will crown the first-ever RCW Champion, and the first order of business is to establish a number one contender to face that man. So the winner of the Driscoll/Coleman match next Thursday will go on, in three weeks' time at the next RAMPAGE event, to face the loser of the Pleasence/Curtis match, with the winner of *that* match declared the number one contender for the RCW Championship. DD: So the three men who progressed to at least the second round of the ROAD TO THE GOLD but failed to capture the championship get a second bite of the cherry, so to speak. DS: That's right, Don. If Owen Curtis is crowned champion next week, Johnny Pleasence will get the right to face the winner of next week's Driscoll/Coleman match -- and if he wins that match, he gets an automatic rematch for the title. Similarly, either Driscoll or Coleman, who were knocked out of the tournament in the second round, can catapult himself to the front of the queue if he defeats the loser of the championship match, and guarantee himself the first shot at the new RCW Champion. DD: There's a tremendous amount at stake in these matches, then. So let's hear from Driscoll and Coleman ahead of this match. [The camera opens on a beaten man, head bowed. He sits alone on a long wooden bench. Behind him is a set of green metal lockers, some open, some closed. Other then him, the room is empty, and silent save for the sounds of heavy breathing. Sweat glistens on his massive arms, a white towel hangs around his neck, and he clutches a half-empty bottle of water in one hand. Still clad in gray wrestling and boots, the young man takes a deep breath... ...and as Mark Coleman lifts his head to look into the camera, we can see the sadness and despair on his face for a split second. Before he sighs, and manages to force a familiar wide and easy grin on his face.] MC: Some coach once said "winnin' isn't everything, it's the only thing." Gonna add something onto that statement, if I may. Losing sucks. [Coleman takes the towel from around his shoulders, using it to wipe his face off. Once done, he looks back into the camera, and continues to speak.] MC: Ain't a wrestler in this game today who will tell you there's nothin' wrong with losin'. If you hear a wrestler talking like that, let me tell you, that guy ain't a wrestler. He's a used car salesman, or a male model, or a bouncer, or someone else attemptin' to masquerade as a wrestler. Anybody who steps foot into that ring with any bit of passion, dedication, or damn respect for this sport of ours knows they're steppin' in their for one reason and one reason only, and that's to get the win and hit the pay window. Big guy like LeBlanc knows it. A guy like Sudakov knows it. A nutjob like Daniels knows it. And the guy who beat me tonight damn well knows it. Curtis... ah, damn. Look, I ain't gonna sit here and talk down about you. Lot of people in this sport, they would be sittin' here, listing excuse after excuse, after excuse, about how they should have won and why they didn't win. Well, I told everyone all this week, I should have won. Save for one small flaw with that there plan. I didn't win. Owen Curtis won, and he gets to go on and take on that snake Johnny Pleasance next week. Now, anyone who knows a damn thing about Mark Coleman will tell you that I don't like losin'. They're also tell you I call it like I see it... I speak the "Truth," to borrow a nickname. And tonight, Owen Curtis, you went out there and did exactly what you said you were going to do, and that was beat me. And you pulled it off. So... to that, congratulations. [Coleman raises the brim of an imaginary hat, gesturing over the airwaves to his vanquisher.] MC: Gotta respect a man who'll put his hand out after beatin' the tar out of you, too. Give him credit for that, and if I have to back a horse in two weeks, it'll be Owen Curtis. Now, before this turns into a lovefest, let's turn this back onto Mark Coleman. After pulling off what a lot of people consider an 'upset' about a month ago, now I'm just a guy who got lucky to some. Can see it now on the Internet sheets and the web pages and the newsletters. Same people who were impressed with what I did against LeBlanc, Daniels, and Sudakov, now they're gonna be wondering why they jumped up on that bandwagon in the first place. Well, ain't no need to be jumpin' on or off bandwagons in any case. Because Mark Coleman ain't goin' anywhere. I've been sayin' ever since RCW opened that I had the talent to survive and thrive here, and you can insert the cliché "it ain't how many times you get knocked down, it's how many times you get back up" in here. My Daddy always told me that, though, and to me, that's damn sage advice and not a phrase people hand out to losers. I ain't gonna up and quit just because I lost one match. Naw, what I'm gonna do is get out there and keep doing what I do best. I'm still going to be RCW Heavyweight Champion one day. The question's just whether I win the title from Owen Curtis in a rematch down the line, rip it away from a clown like Johnny Pleasance, or some other RCW wrestler. Ain't one to whine and complain. More one to get back on the horse and try again. And find a real gym. The manager at Motel 6's gettin' mighty mad I keep showing up at 11 pm to hit the treadmill... [Coleman stops in mid-sentence, and he looks to his left as someone else enters the short. He's part of the RCW backstage crew, the type every wrestling fan instinctively recognizes. And in one hand is a piece of paper.] Crewman: Mr. Coleman, they said you were in here. MC: Yeah, I am. Kind of in the middle of somethin' here, though... [Coleman motions to the camera, and the crewman turns his head to take a look... and he gets a little red in the face.] Crewman: Ah, damn, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were taping. MC: Happens. Water under the bridge. So, what brings you around? Crewman: This. They have the card for the next RAMPAGE all set up, and you're on it. [Coleman raises an eyebrow, and he puts one big hand out for the paper, which the crewman passes over. Coleman speaks as he reads the piece of paper, commenting.] MC: Well, let's see what we got here... huh... yeah... yeah, I can see that. Driscoll. Huh. That's interesting. [Coleman pauses for a moment, and the crewman... just stands there, looking a little confused, not sure what to do. This goes on JUST past the point of uncomfortable, until Coleman shrugs, and stands up, folding the piece of paper in his hand as he speaks to the cameraman.] MC: Gonna have to stop it here. Seems like RCW's givin' me another chance to prove myself right. Gotta like it when people have faith in ya. [Coleman begins to walk off-screen, and the crewman, looking a little out of it, follows him. They end up side-by-side, and we fade out on the following exchange between the two.] MC: Question for ya. You a Portland native? Crewman: Yeah, I am, actually going to Reed. MC: Great. Answer me this, then... where the hell does a guy go in this town to get a decent steak? [Fade to commercials.] [Fade back from commercials to the studio, where Ditka is still seated with RCW President Daniel Spreadbury.] DD: Welcome back, everybody. Before we wrap things up for the show tonight, I understand you have one further announcement to make? DS: Indeed I do, Don. In three weeks' time at RCW RAMPAGE I will have the privilege of welcoming a good friend of mine, a legend of the squared circle, into an RCW ring. DD: Can you tell us who this legend is? DS: I could tell you -- but that would spoil the surprise. Let's just say that you should make a note right now in your calendar to be at the Rose Garden on Thursday 20 April, or to tune in on KPDX 49. This is something you're not going to want to miss. DD: Can't you just give us even a little hint? DS: I'm sorry, Don, you'll have to wait and find out along with everybody else. I promise you that the surprise will be worth the wait. DD: Exciting news! Well, if I can't squeeze any more information out of our esteemed RCW President, that'll do it for this week's show. RCW RAMPAGE will be back on your screens in just seven days here on KPDX 49 with another explosive hour of wrestling. Tickets are still available, so you can be a part of what will be a historic night of action in person, as Owen Curtis and Johnny Pleasence square off in a match that will see the first ever RCW Champion crowned. Get down to the Rose Garden box office, or click onto www.ticketmaster.com. Until next Thursday night, on behalf of RCW President Daniel Spreadbury, this is Don Ditka for Rip City Wrestling, wishing you a good night, everybody! [The lights in the studio fade as Semisonic's "F.N.T." once again kicks in. Ditka appears to continue badgering the RCW President to reveal the identity of his mystery guest as the credits roll, and, as the copyright notice appears, we fade to black.] ____________________________________________________________________ / Copyright (C) 2006 Rip City Wrestling, Inc. All rights reserved. / / www.ripcitywrestling.com / /___________________________________________________________________/