[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 [...Kolya Sudakov attacks Danny Daniels, mounting him and hitting him with palm strikes... Sudakov German suplexes Daniels, who rolls to his knees and is then immediately felled by a knee strike directly to his face... Daniels bounces back with a bulldog on Sudakov... Daniels dumps Sudakov to the outside... Sudakov with the Violence Party on Daniels, trapped in the corner...] # You've nothing to say # They're breaking away # If you listen to fools... # The mob rules # The mob rules [...Jake Andrews slaps Vinny Carmazzi around the face... Madrock the Irrepressible and Carmazzi slug it out in the middle of the ring... Jake Andrews hits a low blow on Madrock... Carmazzi turns on Andrews, hitting him with a leg lariat... Madrock hits Andrews with the Coming Down Abbott's Peak...] # 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 [...Orin LeBlanc jumps Nolan Dorado in the aisle... Dorado is busted open... LeBlanc with a Death Valley Driver on Dorado... LeBlanc with a clothesline... Dorado with a tornado DDT... Dorado with a missile dropkick... Dorado with a split-legged moonsault... LeBlanc with the Beast's Burden...] # It's over, it's done # The end is begun # If you listen to fools... # The mob rules [...Paul Driscoll backdrops Coleman over the top rope to the apron, and Coleman sunset flips himself back into the ring... Coleman busting Driscoll's lip open with a hard right hand... Driscoll hits Coleman with a uranage...] # You've nothing to say # Oh, they're breaking away # If you listen to fools... [...Johnny Pleasence tosses the ring steps into the crowd, trying to take out Owen Curtis's frat house fans... Pleasence working over Curtis's knee... Pleasence slingshots himself over the ropes, landing hard on Curtis's left leg as he comes down on the other side... Pleasence with a snap DDT on Curtis...] # 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 [...Johnny Pleasence with a hotshot... Owen Curtis with a running bulldog... Curtis with the Front Page Mugshot... Pleasence with the Johnny Spike, pinning Curtis... Pleasence holding the RCW Championship belt aloft... and then blasting it into Owen Curtis's face...] # 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 6 April 2006 [We cut to a wide shot of the interior of the Rose Garden, the arena filled to the rafters with pumped-up RCW fans. Fireworks explode high above the ring, a cacophony of explosions producing showers of sparks that rain down from the lighting rig. As the fireworks subside, the smoke drifting into the arena giving the impression of a fine mist, we hear the voice of RCW lead announcer Don Ditka.] DD: Welcome everybody to the Rose Garden in beautiful Portland, Oregon! Welcome everybody to the hottest hour of wrestling on television! Welcome everybody... to RCW RAMPAGE! [The camera pans down the aisle, past the faces of cheering fans, many of them wearing RCW apparel -- the famous yellow "YOUR HERO" t-shirt, of course... Johnny Pleasence's "BIG BAD" caps... Owen Curtis's green Truth Visors -- and waving signs as they prepare themselves for another night of hard-hitting wrestling action. We cut to an overhead shot of the ring, the RCW logo subtly screen-printed on the canvas, the black ropes and buckles visible... and a man stands in the centre of the ring. Still we hear Don Ditka's voice-over.] DD: We are coming at you *live* here on KPDX 49, and what a show this promises to be. This is Don Ditka, the voice of RCW, and sitting alongside me as always is my broadcast colleague, "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare! BS: And, as always, it's a pleasure to be here, Don! DD: We have five incredible matches scheduled tonight, including a match to determine the number one contender to the RCW Championship, as "Pistol" Paul Driscoll takes on Owen "Truth" Curtis -- and the champion, the Big Bad himself, Johnny Pleasence, will also be here tonight. [We fade through to a shot of the side of the ring, revealing that the man standing in the ring is not ring announcer Sy Simmons, as one might expect -- in fact, it's RCW President Daniel Spreadbury, bespectacled and besuited as ever.] DD: As you can see, folks, we're kicking off tonight with our esteemed President in the ring. Mr. Spreadbury has a big surprise for all of us here -- a personal friend of his that he's invited to be here in Portland tonight. BS: In the words of "Timon of Athens", "Surprise me to the brink of tears!" DD: He may well do that, Billy Shakespeare. Let's hear what the man in charge has to say. [Spreadbury raises the microphone to his lips and speaks to the crowd.] DS: Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming to the Rose Garden tonight! RCW is lucky to already have the greatest fans in the world! [Big he's-bigging-us-up pop from the fans! Spreadbury smiles, and waits for the cheers to subside.] DS: RCW is also lucky to have a tremendous roster of talent. The men you see wrestling here tonight, and every Thursday night, are the stars of today and I am certain that many of them will go on to be the legends of tomorrow. Men like Paul Driscoll... [Mixed pop from the crowd!] DS: ...men like Mark Coleman... [Big pop from the crowd!] DS: ...men like Vinny Carmazzi... [A bigger pop from the crowd!] DS: ...and yes, even men like Johnny Pleasence... [Big heel pop! The crowd jeers like mad at the mention of the RCW Champion's name. Ditka speaks over the crowd's boos.] DD: Pleasence, of course, showed our President absolutely no respect after winning the RCW Championship two weeks ago, snatching the belt from his hands rather than waiting for it to be presented to him. [Spreadbury waits for the crowd to quieten down before continuing.] DS: I'm looking forward to seeing these men create history and shape their legacies, and I will watch, along with each and every one of you. [Big man-of-the-people pop!] DS: But tonight, ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to welcome into this ring a man who is already a legend. A man who has nothing left to prove to anybody. A man that I feel privileged to call my friend. And tonight, I feel honoured to be able to welcome this man back to our great city of Portland! [Big hometown pop!] DS: Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming... [The crowd hushes as Spreadbury pauses for dramatic effect... and then the lights in the arena drop, save for the illuminated exit signs around the stands! Big pop! Cameras flash all over the Garden, even though there's nothing to see... and then a famous insignia appears on the giant screen above the aisle, piercing the darkness with its familiar red jaggedness:] /\______________/\ /XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX/ /XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX/ \/====/XXXX/====\/ /XXXX/_ /XXXXXX/ ==XXXX/_ /XXXXX/ ==XXX/ lX/ l/ [The cheers of the fans begin to swell as some of the older fans in attendance immediately recognise the symbol.] BS: Oh, you have got to be kidding me! DD: Is that what I think it is?! [And then the haunting strains of the theme from "High Plains Drifter" seep out over the PA!] BS: Unbelievable. [A single red spotlight illuminates a figure in the head of the aisle, a figure standing with head bowed, a black cowboy hat obscuring his face, thumbs tucked into the pockets in his jeans, a black leather waistcoat over a white, open-necked shirt that glows red, bathed in the spotlight.] DD: It is! It's him! [The crowd goes absolutely ballistic as Spreadbury finally announces the name of the man that, by now, every single person in the arena has already identified...] DS: Please welcome... THE "LONE WOLF"... BROOOOOOOOOODY THUUUUUUUNDER! [Cameras flash all over the Garden as the arena lights slowly rise, Thunder lifting the brim of his hat to reveal the familiar features... the handlebar moustache, now greying a little around his jowels, the salt and pepper stubble... and starts walking down to the ring, a smile tugging at the corners of his famously stoical mouth.] DD: Just listen to this crowd, Billy Shakespeare! BS: What did you say, Don?! DD: The fans are threatening to lift the roof of the Rose Garden here tonight -- I have never heard anything like this in all my years around this great sport! [Thunder steadily makes his way down the aisle, holding out his hands and allowing the fans clamouring on either side of the aisle to reach out and touch him.] DD: This is a man who has won literally every major championship in the business. This is a man who has beaten literally every major star... including you, Billy Shakespeare! BS: Brody Thunder and I certainly have history, Don, there's no denying that. Some of the toughest matches in my entire career went down right here in Portland against that damn cowboy. DS: Just listen to these fans! Thunder hasn't been seen here in Portland for eight years -- but these great people certainly haven't forgotten him! [Thunder finally reaches the ring steps and walks up them, holding his black cowboy hat on his head as he ducks through the ropes and into the squared circle. He walks to the centre of the canvas, towards the extended hand of RCW President Daniel Spreadbury... Thunder grasps his hand, and then pulls Spreadbury into an embrace! Huge cheers from the crowd! Almost immediately, a "LET'S GO THUN-DER!" chant breaks out, quickly building to almost deafening levels. Thunder tips his hat to the fans, and stands there, basking in their cheers.] DD: Brody Thunder was the first man ever to win the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship twice -- a feat only matched by one other man, the New Jersey Nightmare, Steve "the Fury" Kowalski, with whom Thunder had one of his most intense rivalries. BS: And he's a three-time FWA World Heavyweight Champion, and an NWA World Heavyweight Champion, not to mention dozens of others. I have to hand it to Thunder -- he's one of the most decorated men ever to set foot in the squared circle, and you don't win that many titles without being that damned good. [The RCW President brings the microphone back to his lips and finally speaks again, the crowd's cheers slowly quelled by his words.] DS: Brody Thunder. Has it really been eight years?! [Big pop as Thunder nods to the RCW President.] DS: I have to tell you, Brody, after that night, not far from here, eight summers ago, I wondered whether our paths would ever cross again. But after I heard you were passing through our great state, I knew I had to get you out here in front of these fans one more time -- so that I can say two words to you. [The crowd buzzes as they anticipate the two words that the President may have in mind. Spreadbury brings the microphone to his lips again.] DS: THANK YOU! [Big pop from the crowd!] DS: Thank you for the matches. Thank you for the memories. Thank you for the sacrifice, and the injuries, and the box office. [The crowd now begins a "THANK YOU BRO-DY!" chant.] DS: I know you hate this stuff -- but I happen to have access to some pretty neat archives stretching back over the years, and I just wanted to remind you and all these fans of some of those great moments in your career here in Portland. Let's roll that footage! [The camera zooms in on the giant screen above the aisle as the opening piano chords of The Eagles' "Desperado" chime out over the cheers of the crowd.] # Desperado, why don't you come to your senses? # You been out ridin' fences for so long now [We rapidly cut between footage in time with the music... Thunder walking out through the curtain into the IIWF Coliseum, his imposing 6'4" frame striding out into the aisle, cameras flashing everywhere...] # Oh, you're a hard one # I know that you got your reasons # These things that are pleasin' you # Will hurt you somehow [...Thunder hitting Billy Shakespeare's own move, the Curtain Call, on the young high-flyer... Thunder using his barbed-wire bullwhip, "Scorp", on several hapless opponents... Thunder hitting Tiger Claw with the Widowmaker DDT...] # Don't you draw the queen of diamonds boy # She'll beat you if she's able # You know the queen of hearts is always your best bet [...Thunder being nailed by the loaded fist of Casey "Blackheart" James of the Syndicate, laying him out and leading to his first IIWF defeat... Thunder being waylaid by Casey James and stablemate Tiger Claw in the parking lot, Thunder getting thrown through the windshield of his Ranch Cherokee...] # Now it seems to me, some fine things # Have been laid upon your table [...Thunder joining forces with the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin to battle the Syndicate... Casey James hitting Thunder with the IIWF belt... Thunder wrestling Tiger Claw in a Tombstone Strap Match, James again getting involved, pasting the "Lone Wolf" with a steel chair... Thunder and Hardin eventually revealing that they were in cahoots with the Syndicate all along, embracing Casey James in the middle of the ring...] # But you only want the ones that you can't get [...Thunder repeatedly saving James's bacon in IIWF Championship matches... Dissent growing between Thunder and James... Thunder reluctantly handing James's title belt back to him... Thunder walking out as the rest of the Syndicate lay a beating on Chris Quigley... Thunder brawling with Mad Dog Watkins, and inadvertently hitting IIWF President Daniel Spreadbury with a steel chair!...] # Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no younger # Your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home [...Thunder and Casey James wrestling in a wild Lumberjack Match, ending in a schmozz that caused the acting IIWF President to vacate the title... spooky giant Requiem lifting the IIWF Championship... Thunder fighting alongside Mad Dog Watkins, Steve Kowalski and other IIWF superstars against the massed forces of Requiem's Genesis group... Thunder pinning Genesis member Serge Annis after a Cattlebuster DDT...] # And freedom, oh freedom well, that's just some people talkin' # Your prison is walking through this world all alone [...Thunder wrestling Requiem for the world title... J.W. Hardin hitting the Cattlebuster DDT on Requiem, and Thunder following up with a Widowmaker of his own... Thunder lifting the IIWF Championship belt... Thunder turning on former friend Steve Kowalski in a double-cross... and then sensationally turning on Hardin and the rest of the Syndicate in wrestling's most famous triple-cross...] # Don't your feet get cold in the winter time? # The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine # It's hard to tell the night time from the day [...Thunder hitting Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven with the Widowmaker... Thunder pinning "To Excess" Rick Williams after a Widowmaker... Thunder hitting Requiem with a Widowmaker... Thunder hitting the Widowmaker on "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare... Thunder battling Hardin and picking up the pinfall after an inside cradle... Thunder being attacked post-match by Steve Kowalski, who Skullpumped the "Lone Wolf" straight to hell...] # You're losin' all your highs and lows # Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away? [...Thunder getting pinned by Steve Kowalski to lose the IIWF Championship... Thunder regaining the title one week later in a brutal parking lot brawl, hitting Kowalski with a Widowmaker DDT onto solid asphalt to take the title back...] # Desperado, why don't you come to your senses? # Come down from your fences, open the gate [...Thunder and Kowalski going at it inside a steel cage... Thunder throwing Kowalski through the side of the cage to the outside... Thunder choking Kowalski with a camera cable... Thunder and Kowalski battling onto the top of the cage... the cage collapses, both men plunging through the roof into the ring!... Kowalski emerging with the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship...] # It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you [...A bloody and injured Thunder handing the title belt to Kowalski, the two men shaking hands...] # You better let somebody love you [...Thunder returning to the IIWF many months later to compete in the last-ever event, IIWF Forever, wrestling alongside Kowalski and Watkins in the 30-man battle royal one... last... time...] # You better let somebody love you [...Thunder and Kowalski in a ring filled with IIWF superstars, hoisting IIWF President Daniel Spreadbury up onto their shoulders and parading him around the ring... Thunder and Kowalski shaking hands in the middle of the ring in a show of cameraderie...] # before it's too late... # [...Fade to a shot of an empty arena, slowly zooming in on a figure standing in the ring, wearing his trademark black boots, black and red trunks, and black and red tape on both wrists, wearing his trademark black hat... And as the outro of the Eagles' song fades, we cut back to the arena, where the crowd is on its feet applauding Thunder. We hear Ditka's voice-over.] DD: Wow. [We listen to the applause of the fans for more long moments, the camera panning around the arena, cameras flashing as Thunder looks up at the screen at the head of the aisle.] DD: Every... single... fan in this arena is on his or her feet, Billy Shakespeare. BS: The Eagles get 'em every time, Don. DD: There must be mixed emotions for you here, Billy Shakespeare, seeing some of the most memorable moments from your own career up there on the big screen. BS: Thunder and I were joined together by the fates, Don, there's no denying it. And I have to admit, despite the fact that he beat me more often than not, it's good to see him out here tonight. [The crowd continues to applaud as we cut back to the ring, where, during the video package, Spreadbury has been handed a large plaque, on which is mounted a large gold plate of some kind. Thunder motions to Spreadbury for the microphone, and the RCW President obliges. Thunder taps it twice, looks around the arena and raises the mic to his lips.] BT: Hot damn it's great ta be back in P-Town. [Thunder smiles a wry grin as the crowd explodes again in applause.] BT: Over the last twenty years I've been around the world, wrestled on every continent, wrestled in front o' kings an' queens an' heads o'state. I've wrestled in every state o'the Union an' been kicked outta most fer it! Yeah, I've been anyplace that WAS anyplace on the wrestlin' map but no matter where I hung my hat.. no matter where I laced up my boots over them twenty years.. no place ever compared ta steppin' 'tween them ropes right here in Portland, lemme tell ya that. [Another big hometown pop from the Portland faithful.] BT: Y'know, Spreads, I'd been wrestlin' fer a few years before I came to the Double Eye.. but it was there that my career shifted into overdrive. Watchin' alla them memories up there on that screen jus' now... gets them competitive juices a-flowin' an' the adrenaline pumpin', hoss. I'm proud ta have been a small part of what was THE single greatest wrestlin' organization that ever graced this sport. [Thunder gives a nod to Spreadbury with gracious applause. Spreadbury modestly waves to the cheering crowd, trying to downplay the spotlight gracefully.] BT: An' one thing ol' Spreads here won't admit to... is the fact that when I finally won that IIWF World Title belt? He was scared-to-death that I was jus' gonna walk outta the promotion with the strap an'turn up on somebody else's promotion with the damned thing. True fact, true fact! [Thunder and Spreadbury share a good laugh at the comment.] BT: It weren't gonna happen , my friend, an' y'know why? 'Cuz the best damned competition was right here in Portland. Guys like J.W. Hardin.. Tiger Claw... Billy-gawdamn-Shakespeare... [Thunder playfully points at Shakespeare with a smirk.] BT: I still owe you a Widowmaker, ace! [The crowd roars with laughter.] BT: Ya had some o'the toughest SOBs ta ever walk the aisle... Mad Dog Watkins, that psycho nutjob Joe Petrow, Casey James & The Syndicate, an' o'course, Steve Kowalski. They all were the cream o'the crop here. They'd fight ya tooth-an'-nail, no quarter given, no quarter taken. I oughta know. I fought alla them. An' win, lose or draw, they're all champeens, plain an' simple, an' I was lucky enough ta step 'tween the ropes with them in their prime fer some hellacious fights. Every night was a damned dogfight with them boys. It was some o' the best times o'my life, both professionally an' personally. That was then, this is now. A new era in wrestlin' is happenin' right here an' history is bein' made in this ring. I jus' wanna thank you, Dan, an' RCW fer havin' me out here tonight. There's alot o'great talent here an' these folks didn't come here ta lissen ta this ol' cowboy reminesce. They wanna see some knuckle-thumpin' throwdowns here tonight. [The crowd fires up with another burst of applause.] BT: But 'fore I go I jus' wanna say one thing to you, the fans. I ain't never been one ta acknowledge whether you cheered me or cussed me but believe me, I heard ya. Every time I walked down ta that ring, I heard ya. An' every time my hand got raised... I heard ya. An' throughout these last twenty years I've been lucky enough ta make a career outta what I like doin' best... puttin' folks' backs on the mat an' walkin' out with the winner's share o'the dinero. Y'see, it ain't never been a nine-ta-five job fer me. But it's been one helluva life... an' good Lord willin', the ride ain't over yet. Thank y'all. [Thunder tips his hat again and hands the microphone back to Spreadbury. Thunder shakes Spreadbury's hand again as they wait again for the cheers of the crowd to subside once more before Dan speaks again.] DS: Now, Brody, I know you went on to other things after you left Portland -- hell, you're still in your thirties, you've got more fights in you yet! -- but to these great fans... and to me... the eighteen months you spent in the Double Eye were the defining ones of your career. Brody Thunder became synonymous with the big time right here in Portland... and as a token of my esteem, I would like to present you with this commemmorative plaque -- which is the main panel from the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship belt that you won on October 4th, 1997. [As Spreadbury balances the plaque in the crook of his arm, the camera zooms in to show the famous IIWF logo, the words "WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT WRESTLING CHAMPION", and a small engraved panel bolted on that reads "BRODY THUNDER". With a smile, Spreadbury goes to hand it over to Thunder...] ! crack ! crack ! crack ! crack ! [The opening riff "Stranger Than Fiction" by Bad Religion blares over the loudspeakers -- and Spreadbury stops.] DD: Wait a minute. What's this interruption!? BS: Well, we all know that's Owen Curtis's music... [Indeed. It's Owen "Truth" Curtis who bursts through the curtains, wearing a white short-sleeved dress shirt, brown slacks, blue tie, and dress shoes. The crowd is mixed in its reaction.] DD: ...and there he is. But why is he coming out here *now*? BS: I wouldn't want to guess. I'm not sure Curtis *planned* to come out. I mean, he's still in his street clothes, Don. Did this presentation catch him by surprise? DD: I think it caught *everyone* by surprise. Everyone but those two men -- Spreadbury and Thunder. Tonight was a well-guarded secret, making it all the more enjoyable. But is Owen Curtis enjoying it? That's what I want to know. [As vocalist Greg Gaffin spits out the words, rapid fire... ] # A febrile shocking violent smack # The children are hoping for a heart attack # Tonight the windows are watching, the streets all conspire, # and the lamppost can't stop crying [...Owen tunes out all distractions and glares forward as he strides to the ring.] # If I could fly high above the world # would I see a bunch of living dots spell the word stupidity? # Or would I see hungry lover homicides, loving brother suicides, # and olly olly oxenfrees, who pick a side and hide? [Owen reaches the ring and rolls in.] # The world is scratching at my door ... [The music fades. Owen requests a cordless mic from a ring attendant, and gets it. He stands facing Spreadbury and Thunder, alternately looking at them and then at the mat, as if he can't quite believe what he's seeing. He takes one more look at them, with a grin of disbelief on his face, his head cocked at a slight angle.] OTC: Wow. You know, I never thought I would see the day. It's Brody Freaking Thunder, and he's standing right here, right now in a Rip City Wrestling ring! You know, this truly is a great night in the annals of Portland wrestling! [Huge crowd pop!] OTC: You know, it appears some congratulations are indeed in order. I mean, look at the fantastic video package that we just witnessed. All of the great matches, all of the great feuds, all of the great memories. The guys in the production department really have outdone themselves. And rightfully so. If you're going to break out the production whiz-bang, there is no LEGEND more deserving of a night like this than Brody Thunder. Believe me, I know my history. So while I was sitting back there in the locker room, just about to put on my gear for tonight's massacre against Paul Driscoll, for the number one contendership in Rip City Wrestling, I figured I'd better drop everything and add to the celebration. [Owen goes as if to shake hands with Thunder... then changes his mind.] DD: It appears a handshake isn't enough for Owen Curtis. He wants a hug from Brody Thunder. [Apparently. But not yet. Owen stops and directs a question to President Spreadbury.] OTC: But would you fellows mind waiting just a second so I can call my personal photographer and capture this moment on film? I mean, I'd really appreciate it. It's a strange request, I know. But ... Portland's past, Portland's present and future, and the great promoter who ties it all together? It's the perfect picture. Come on. [Hearing no objections, Owen points to the production folks -- and music comes on.] DD: His photographer has *music*?! BS: That's gotta be Eddie. [A spare, insistent bass, guitar and drums beat plays over the loudspeakers -- a beat played by the band Spoon. And sure enough, Eddie "Flash" Curtis appears in the entranceway, wearing jeans, a polo shirt and a photographer's vest, carrying his camera gear.] DD: I didn't know you could have music without a contract. BS: Maybe Owen just gave the production folks the CD. [With Eddie almost to the ring, the vocal comes in, in falsetto...] # I turn my camera on... I cut my fingers on the way... on the way... [The music fades as Eddie arrives in the ring, stands, and joins his brother Owen.] DD: I'll be darned. It was surprising enough that Spreadbury invited Brody Thunder to the show, but now the Curtis Brothers have crashed the party. BS: Sometimes truth *is* "Stranger Than Fiction." Which is to say nothing of the question: what do Thunder and President Spreadbury make of this? [Owen raises the mic and addresses his brother.] OTC: Thanks, Ed. I was hoping you were back there. You just tell us what to do. You're the photographer. [He gives Eddie the microphone also, which Eddie tucks into his shirt pocket so he can talk *and* shoot. Owen moves over next to Thunder and Spreadbury. Eddie, with camera up to his face, poses the three of them together -- Thunder, the tallest, in the middle. Spreadbury is still holding the plaque.] EFC: Move just a bit... Brody, stand up a bit straighter... Dan, lean your head in a bit... Owen, looking good. I'm gonna have Dan hand Brody the plaque just as I press the shutter. And smile, baby dolls. Smile. On the count of three. One... Two... Three! [Flashbulbs go off as the three smile for the cameras!] BS: Owen really should just let the Brody and Dan pose together. DD: How... [More flashbulbs, as all three men beam -- but the cheers turn to boos as Owen Curtis takes the plaque out of Thunder's surprised hands!] DD: What is Owen Curtis doing?!? BS: He seems torn by the circumstances. Reminiscent of Hamlet. [Owen just stands there, looking at the plaque -- his eyes staring into his own blurry reflection on the IIWF Heavyweight Championship belt plate. Spreadbury and Thunder look displeased... but then Owen "snaps out of it" and realizes his faux pas. He hands the plaque back to Spreadbury apologetically.] DD: Thank God Owen came to his senses. [Owen steps aside, allowing Thunder and Spreadbury to pose together, as Eddie raises his camera again and presses the shutter, to the cheeers of the crowd! More bulbs flash!] DD: What a classy display! I think what Owen Curtis wants to be, Brody Thunder has been! And the "Truth" is letting Thunder have his moment! BS: You spoke too soon! [Owen re-enters the frame -- with a leap onto Thunder's back! He applies a sleeper hold to the former IIWF champion!] DD: SLEEPER HOLD! Owen Curtis has his version of the sleeper on Brody Thunder! He calls that "GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD LUCK!" BS: Edward R. Murrow reference... pretty clever, I must admit. [Boos begin to rain down upon the ring! The only cheers come from the fraternity Beta brothers, in their front row section!] "COLD HARD TRUTH! COLD HARD TRUTH! COLD HARD TRUTH!" [But no one joins them. The chant is quickly drowned out by others who can't believe what they're seeing, and who are yelling accordingly.] DD: Owen Curtis said he was the one to represent Oregon into the future. And he still may be. But I don't think these fans are going to support him! Not like this! [Owen has the sleeper cinched in good, as Spreadbury looks on, horrified, wondering whether he should intervene.] BS: This is pretty sickening. Look at what Eddie Curtis is doing. [As Thunder begins to fade, Eddie moves in for a close-up, snapping away rapid-fire, capturing the "Lone Wolf" as he vainly fights unconsciousness. Thunder drops to his knees.] DD: That's enough! I don't know what kind of point Owen Curtis was trying to make, but he has made it! BS: Thunder's lids are down like a double garage door in the Oregon rain. He... is... out of it. DD: Are they through yet? [Maybe not. Eddie walks over to a stunned Dan Spreadbury and yanks the IIWF belt plaque out of his hands. He sets it down in the middle of the ring, right in front of Owen and the drowsy Thunder. Eddie points to it with both hands, then resumes his camera postion.] DD: I hope he's not thinking what it looks like he's thinking. [Owen releases the sleeper -- but holds onto the legend by his hair. He then slaps Thunder in the face!] DD: That woke him up! I don't know if that was wise on Owen's part! [Quickly, Owen hooks the groggy Thunder up for a vertical suplex, then moves into position right in front of the championship plaque. He lifts Thunder up into a vertical position... ] DD: Curtis has Thunder up for the Obituary! [...and Curtis piledrives Thunder head first onto the plaque!!] DD: ...AND DOWN! Owen Curtis has just decimated Brody Thunder! BS: That's the kind of move that could end a career, Don. An unprotected piledriver is bad enough, but from a suplex position? Onto a belt? I'm going up there. DD: No, Billy, you stay where you are. Don't get involved. BS: He's been busted open. This isn't right, Don. [Eddie, of course, snaps away with more pictures -- to a chorus of more boos.] BS: This is absolutely sickening. Absolutely sickening. What has gotten into Owen Curtis!? [The microphone is still in Eddie's pocket -- and as Thunder lies collapsed in a heap, motionless, Owen Curtis dusts off his hands, a smug look of satisfaction on his stubbled face. President Spreadbury quickly tends to the fallen Thunder, throwing up the "X" mark with crossed arms. Meanwhile, Eddie, with his camera slung over his shoulder, offers Owen the mic -- and Owen takes it.] DD: I think Owen is about to explain himself. I can't imagine what he could say that would justify this. BS: Maybe it's justified to Owen, but not to these fans. [The boos rain down, as Owen stands there with the microphone, ready to speak...] OTC: ... [Owen holds the mic behind his back, mouthing some words to Eddie. Owen then drops the microphone on the canvas, and the two of them then exit the ring!] DD: No explanation! [Owen backs down the aisle, his brother by his side. He makes the "belt motion" across the middle, reminding folks of his match later in the evening.] DD: Owen Curtis has done the unthinkable! And he may not be done! He has a match against Paul Driscoll tonight, and if he wins, he gets a title rematch against Johnny Pleasence! BS: And as sickening as Pleasence holding the belt may be, I don't think I want to see it on Curtis, either! Not after what he has done here tonight at the Rose Garden! DD: Indeed, the fans rooted for the cocky Curtis, despite his arrogance, two weeks ago. But things have definitely changed, and there's only one man you can blame for that -- Owen "Truth" Curtis. BS: You got that right. DD: Folks, we have to take a short commercial break -- we'll be right back. [Fade to commercials.] [Fade back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Welcome back to RAMPAGE, folks. During the break, Brody Thunder made his way out of the ring under his own power. [Cut to footage captioned "DURING COMMERCIALS." A bloodied Thunder, crimson dripping down onto the white shirt he wore to the ring, shrugs off the assistance of a pair of paramedics, and makes his way up the aisle, the fans giving him a standing ovation as he goes, a dark look of fury etched on his dripping face. Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Who knows what repercussions that attack on Thunder will have, Billy Shakespeare. This crowd is still very, very hot for Owen Curtis -- but we have to get things started. Hang on, we have word from backstage that Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc is prowling about, hunting for "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado, whom he faced on the last RAMPAGE. BS: "I will have such revenges on you both that all the world shall; I will do such things, what they are yet I know not: but they shall be the terrors of the earth." DD: I know *that* one, Billy Shakespeare -- "King Lear." BS: Quite right, Don. And LeBlanc may be about to exact the "terrors of the earth" on both Dorado and his voluptuous valet! [The scene switches to a corridor backstage where the large figure of Orin LeBlanc can be seen moving towards the camera, his head turning from side to side in search of his chosen prey. Just as he reaches an open doorway, a familiar buxom silhouette fills the space as Jodee Burwick leans against the door frame in a blatantly seductive manner.] JB: There you are. I was wondering when I'd... [She reaches out with a long, heavily-manicured fingernail and slowly draws it down the front of LeBlanc's massive chest.] JB: ...bump into you again. [For his part, Orin cocks his head and looks at Jodee curiously for a moment... ...then frowns as he immediately turns to look behind him, one fist raised as if expecting an attack. Spying nothing, the Canadian lowers his arm, a frown still on his face as he turns back to the valet.] JB: I was wondering if--Hey! [The sudden "Hey!" would be in response to the fact that the Lynx has picked Jodee up by the shoulders and just set her off to the side as he now peers into the doorway she was just standing in. He withdraws his head from the room, then faces Jodee.] OL: [shrugging] Sorry 'bout that. So where's your boy hidin' then, Miz Burwick? [The artificial blonde (and in more ways than just the hair) smiles mischieviously.] JB: Please, honey. You can call me Jodee. And... ummm... Nolan isn't around. As a matter of fact, he won't be back for quite some time. But... [She steps close to the big Canadian, pressing up against him as she places a hand on his chest.] JB: ...I'm right here. [Jodee deliberately thrusts her chest forward and LeBlanc's eyes are momentarily drawn downward towards her ample cleavage. But then his eyes snap up and he looks up and down the hall suspiciously, ignoring the blonde's use of her fingernail to trace circles on his chest.] OL: Uh-huh...I see what the deal is... JB: Good. [Jodee starts to lean in closer, but a soft chuckle escapes Orin as he shakes his head.] OL: Honey, them weapons o' mass distraction might work on the zebras but I ain't lookin' to get set up again so quick. [He gently but firmly removes Jodee's hand from his chest, then taps the bruise still on his forehead from Nolan's earlier assault last RAMPAGE.] OL: Last time you flashed this lack o' subtlety, Dorado made a strategic withdrawal from the debt he incurred upon himself. That ain't gonna happen twice. [The Lynx stares coldly at Jodee.] OL: Wherever he's squattin' now, tell your boy that I'm collectin' on that sooner than he thinks. With all that fixatin' time he has for Vinny, Goldenrod's gonna learn quick it's better to make time for me an' mine instead. [And with that, LeBlanc stalks off with a grunt. Perplexed, Jodee pouts her thick lips.] JB: Hmph! [But despite the expression of disappointment on her face, a slight smile traces her lips as she tilts her head to one side and watches LeBlanc's backside appraisingly as he walks away from her. When the big Canadian turns a corner and steps out of sight, Jodee sighs and moves to step into her dressing room.] JB: Mmmmm... yummy! [A high-pitched giggle follows in her wake as she disappears into her dressing room, the door closing behind her. Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Folks, we'll see Nolan Dorado and Jodee Burwick later on tonight, when he faces off against legendary luchador "Supercat" Salvador Maeso -- but right now, let's get up to the ring for our first match. ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / Ryan Faith vs. Mark Coleman /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Sy Simmons stands in the ring, official Jim Bright standing behind him in the squared cirlce. Simmons brings the microphone to his lips and struggles to be heard over the still irate crowd.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen... Ladies and gentlemen! The following match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first... ["God Hates A Coward" by Tomahawk hits over the PA, to a mixed pop from the crowd.] SS: ...hailing from Crystal Falls, Minnesota, and weighing in at 220lbs... here is... RYYYYYAAAAAAAAAN FAAAAAAAAAAAITH! [Cut backstage to the "gorilla position," where Ryan Faith stands, awaiting his cue to enter the arena. He turns and addresses the camera:] RF: Please, Coleman, don't start thinking about the strap and forgetting about me. I implore you that is not the route which you want to travel down. Don't start thinking about what could have been. Because, let's face it kid, if you were meant to have won it... you would have. [Ryan just smiles as he rolls his neck... cracking it just slightly.] RF: Tonight, you'll find out that a motivated and inspired Ryan Faith is not someone that you want to cross paths with. You're going to find out that no matter how much people were impressed by what you did.... you still have to remember one thing.... They were impressed by a loss. In this game, we don't cheer the losers... we cheer the winners. We don't find ourselves magnetically attracted to someone who tries so hard but just can't get it right in the end. This isn't a fairytale world we live in, Coleman. This story painted to us about heroes and villains... and the plight of man... this isn't it. [Ryan puts one hand on the curtain at the head of the aisle.] RF: Your story... full of sound and fury... will still signify nothing. [Cut through to the other side of the curtain as Ryan Faith makes his way out into the arena. A few spotlights circle around the Rose Garden before focusing in on the youngster. Ryan looks towards his left and right before focusing his gaze on the ring. He plays with his brown shaggy hair, revealing those piercing baby blues, always staring at the ring.] DD: Here's the man who was reinstated just two days ago following his suspension for no-showing a number of public appearances, not to mention the last instalment of RAMPAGE. BS: And he's criticised the RCW front office for their so-called "big brother" attempts to keep track of him, Don. DD: Give me a break, Billy Shakespeare! You sign a contract, you agree to be somewhere, you appear. Yes, Faith's father passed away about a month ago, just before Faith's last match here against Bailey Fitzgerald, but he didn't talk to any of the road agents about it -- he just disappeared. What were they supposed to do? BS: Well, he's here tonight, Don. Let's see whether this is the Ryan Faith who showed such promise in his debut or the Ryan Faith who was defeated by Bailey Fitzgerald two weeks later. [Faith, wearing his usual ring attire of blue jean shorts and black high wrestling boots, makes his way to the ring, slides under the bottom rope and jumps up to the top turnbuckle with his hands to his side. Mixed pop from the crowd!] DD: This crowd doesn't know quite what to make of Ryan Faith here tonight, Billy Shakespeare. And, quite frankly, nor do we. [Faith jumps back down into the ring as Simmons again brings the microphone to his lips.] SS: And introducing his opponent... ["Copperhead Road" by Steve Earle plays over the PA, and the crowd gives a big pop!] SS: ...hailing from Memphis, Tennessee, and weighing in at 251lbs... here is... MAAAAAAAAARK COOOOOOOOOOOOOOLEMAAAAAAAAAAN! [Coleman strides out ino the aisle, as usual wearing his grey wrestling trunks and boots. He briefly flashes his famous smile, but it is quickly replaced by a look of steely determination as he starts to make his way down to the ring.] DD: Here comes Mark Coleman. We know how disappointed this young rookie was two weeks ago when he was defeated by Paul Driscoll, meaning that he missed out on the opportunity to get right back in the championship hunt. BS: He's got a good chance to put things back on track tonight, Don. Faith and Coleman are about equal in terms of experience, but Coleman definitely has the advantage here in terms of strength and power. DD: Don't discount Faith, though. He's got a lot to prove, and I'm sure he'll fancy his chances against Coleman. [Coleman holds out his hands as he makes his way down to the ring, allowing the fans to slap them, but his eyes are focused solidly on the ring, and on Ryan Faith waiting for him there. Coleman rolls into the ring under the bottom rope... and Faith immediately starts stomping away on Coleman, drawing a heel pop from the crowd! Jim Bright hurriedly signals for the bell!] * DING! DING! DING! * DD: Ryan Faith wasting absolutely no time here in the early going, and he's laying into Coleman with those boots! [Faith rams boot after boot into the midsection of Coleman, until Bright finally drags Faith away, allowing Coleman to get to his feet, a little winded. Faith pushes Bright aside -- and Coleman explodes off the ropes, felling Faith with a scintillating lariat! Big pop!] DD: Wow! What a lariat from Mark Coleman -- and he's staying right on Faith, cinching in an armbar. BS: Great chain wrestling here from Coleman -- he's turned that armbar into a wristlock. DD: Ryan Faith now, fighting his way back to his feet... and escapes the hold with an elbow to the midsection! [Heel pop as Faith frees himself from Coleman's wristlock, and goes to the ropes. Coleman sticks his head down, in preparation for a backdrop -- but Faith sees it coming, and drops Coleman to the mat with a DDT! Faith immediately goes for the cover... 1... 2... ...and Coleman kicks out! Big pop from the crowd.] DD: Faith with the DDT out of nowhere! This match is going to be high-impact all the way! [Faith pulls Coleman back to his feet, and Coleman swats away Faith's hands, grabbing him in a waistlock and lifting him up, throwing him behind -- and hotshotting him on the top rope! Faith staggers backwards into the ring, and Coleman grabs him around the neck with both hands and yanks backwards, sitting down himself and slamming Faith to the mat! Coleman hooks his legs over Faith's shoulders and grabs Faith's legs, getting him in a pinning combination! Big pop as Bright drops to make the count... 1... 2... ...and Faith kicks out! Big pop!] DD: Look at the look on Coleman's face, Billy Shakespeare. That easy-going smile has been replaced by something far more intense. BS: Coleman undoubtedly feels that he's taken home the loser's share of the purse money too often thus far, Don. He's going to do everything he can to prevent Faith establishing dominance in this match. [Coleman grapevines Faith's arm with his legs, pushing one foot into Faith's neck, turning his head at an uncomfortable angle. Coleman applies as much pressure as he can, wrenching Faith's arm. Faith reaches out with his free arm, reaching with fingertips for the ropes... which he grabs. Bright puts the count on Coleman, who relinquishes the grapevine at the count of three. Both men get back to their feet, Faith trying to shake the kinks out of his arm.] DD: Smart plan by Coleman here, targeting the arm of Ryan Faith. BS: Absolutely. Faith can't hit the Test of Faith if he's got no strength in his arms. [Faith goes to tackle Coleman, dummies, and dropkicks him in the knee! Big heel pop as Coleman goes down to one knee.] BS: Mark Coleman's left knee took quite a beating at the hands of Owen Curtis -- looks like Faith is banking on the fact that it may not be properly healed up yet. [Coleman gets back to his feet, and Faith tackles him again with a chopblock to the knee. Coleman goes down painfully! Big heel pop! Faith stays on Coleman, immediately grapevining the leg, bringing a grimace to the face of the Tennesseean. Coleman uses his free leg to kick free, and both men get back to their feet.] DD: Faith is determined to keep Coleman under control in this match. [Faith and Coleman now circle each other in the ring, and then they collide in the middle of the ring. Coleman gets Faith into a side headlock... Faith pushes Coleman off, grabbing Coleman's arms and pulling him backwards to the mat, driving his knee into the small of the Tennesseean's back -- big heel pop! -- then flips Coleman over into a front chancery. Coleman reaches up with his own arm and grabs hold of Faith's hair, wrenching on Faith's neck, and is able to free himself from the chancery, putting Faith in a front facelock of his own. Faith forces himself up to his knees, forcing Coleman up to his knees as well, then reaches through and grabs Coleman's leg, pulling the leg towards him and forcing Coleman to relinquish the hold... and Faith applies a leglock on Coleman, who is now forced to roll over again onto his belly, kicking Faith off with his free leg. Both men rise to their feet, to the applause of the crowd!] DD: Impressive mat wrestling from both men here, Billy Shakespeare! [Coleman, a little hot under the collar, charges in towards Faith... and is felled by a drop toe-hold, taking him down to the mat. Faith rides him, and locks in a Boston crab. Heel pop!] DD: Coleman's already taken a hard knee to the back, and now Faith has him in the Boston crab. BS: Smart wrestling from Faith: where's the Southern Cross Bomb going to come from if Coleman's back is playing him up? [Coleman reaches out with his fingertips and manages to get hold of the ropes, breaking the hold. Faith yells abuse at Jim Bright as the official forces him to let go of Coleman. Faith charges past the referee again, stomping on the small of Coleman's back. Big heel pop! Bright again steps in, and Faith now shoves the official. Another heel pop!] DD: I guess Faith thinks he's sticking it to the man by laying his hands on a match official. BS: All he's going to achieve is getting himself disqualified. Come on, Ryan, focus on the match! [Coleman drags himself back to his feet as Bright remonstrates with Faith. Faith turns, and is caught by a kneebreaker from Coleman, which he follows up with a vicious clothesline! Huge pop!] DD: Good god! Coleman nearly decapitated Ryan Faith with that clothesline! [Coleman makes the cover and Bright drops to make the count... 1... 2... ...No! Faith kicks out! Disappointed pop!] DD: Ryan Faith is still in this thing, Billy Shakespeare! BS: But that clothesline has put Coleman firmly in control here. [Coleman stands above the prone form of Faith. The crowd now chant "LET'S GO COLE-MAN!", and Coleman allows a smile to creep onto his face. He acknowledges the cheers with an outstretched hand and a nod of the head, then brings Faith back to his feet, throws his arm over his shoulder, grabs him by the tights... and hoists him up!] DD: This is the move that cost Coleman the match against Driscoll! But just look at that power, the way he holds Faith up there! BS: That's five seconds, six... seven...! DD: And *down* with authority! [Big pop as Faith crashes to the mat after Coleman's delayed vertical suplex. Coleman again goes for the cover... 1... 2... ...and Faith just about gets a shoulder up!] DD: So close! Coleman nearly had Faith there! [Coleman brings Faith to his feet again, and sends him for the ride. On the return, Coleman hits him with the drop toe-hold, and then immediately follows up with the elbow to the small of Faith's back! Big pop!] DD: That's a Coleman trademark! Faith is in big trouble here! [Coleman once again brings Faith to his feet, and puts his head between his legs, nodding to the cheering crowd, who now chant "S-C-B! S-C-B!"] DD: The fans are calling for the Southern Cross Bomb! Can Coleman finish this match here and now? [As Coleman hoists Faith up with a gutwrench, there's a commotion as two men vault the guardrail. The smaller, besuited man, points to the ring, and then turns his attention back to the blue-shirted security personnel who are rapidly converging on the two men. The man in the suit throws right hands at the security men, felling them, as the larger of the two men, wearing a shirt and jeans, slides into the ring.] DD: Wait a minute! What the hell is going on here?! [Faith, hoisted up in the crucifix position, sees the man who has entered the ring, and wriggles free of the hold, dropping to the mat and rolling out of the ring under the bottom rope.] DD: Does Ryan Faith know who this man is? He's leaving the ring... and Coleman... Coleman is in there with this monster! [Coleman, momentarily bemused, spins around to grab hold of Ryan Faith... and comes face to face with a man several inches taller than him! Coleman is stunned -- and then even more stunned when he is felled by a clothesline from the big man! Big heel pop! Official Jim Bright immediately signals for the bell!] * DING! DING! DING! * DD: Good god! This giant man -- he's clearly Japanese, but I've never seen him before. And he is taking Coleman apart in there! [Coleman drags himself back to his feet, only to be met by a flurry of kicks to the chest, staggering the Tennesseean... and then a big kick to the side of the head puts Coleman down hard in the middle of the ring! Big, big heel pop!] DD: Somebody needs to get out here and stop this! [The Japanese man shouts something to the man on the outside, who immediately moves to the timekeeper's table, unseating Sy Simmons from his folding steel chair and snapping it closed, before tossing it into the ring -- where it is caught by the larger man.] DD: Oh... oh, this is going to be bad. Where in hell's name is security?! BS: Whoever this man on the outside is, he knows how to handle himself -- he's taken out four of the arena security staff on his own! [Bright again signals for the bell to be rung to try and get more help out to the ring.] * DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! * [Inside the ring, the Japanese man sets up the chair in the middle of the canvas, then picks Coleman up, and whips him into the ropes. On the rebound, he hoists Coleman up above his head in a gorilla press! Huge pop from the crowd as cameras flash all over the garden!] DD: Good god! The strength of this man is unbelievable! He's pressing a 250lbs man as if he weighs nothing at all! [And then Coleman is dropped throat-first onto the back of the chair in the middle of the ring! Huge heel pop as Coleman rolls on the canvas, clutching at his throat!] DD: Is this man trying to maim Mark Coleman?! We need more help out here, right now! [The Japanese man then locks body scissors on Coleman and locks in a dragon sleeper, wrenching back on Coleman's upper body to increase the pressure on the neck!] DD: A modified dragon sleeper from this monster! [Finally, more security and other officials stream down the aisle and enter the ring, forcing the Japanese man to release the hold. The big man tosses aside two of the referees as if they were leaves blown on the wind, lets out a roar, and tears off his shirt, revealing a well-defined upper body and broad shoulders with well-developed trapezius muscles.] DD: Whoever this man is, he's a force to be reckoned with -- and just look at his body. He is *covered* in scars. BS: He looks like he's seen his fair share of brawls over the years, Don. And Mark Coleman looks like he is *out cold* in there. What an assault! [As the officials finally manage to subdue the big Japanese man, he turns and spits on the prone form of Coleman! Huge heel pop from the crowd!] DD: Now there is absolutely no need for that, Billy Shakespeare! BS: Disgraceful, Don. [The Japanese man rolls out of the ring, and is greeted by his smaller partner. Together they look almost comical: the smaller, besuited man is nearly a full foot shorter than the Japanese monster to his side. The shorter man has grabbed a microphone from the timekeeper's table, and now addresses the fans:] MAN: Portland, Oregon! I want you to take a long, long look into this ring, because you have just witnessed the birth of a new era in Rip City Wrestling! As for you up there in the ring... whatever your name is. [He turns and points up the aisle to the curtain leading to backstage.] MAN: As for all of you boys in the back. We don't know your names. We don't care who you are. We don't care what kind of accolades you get, how many people are kissing your ass and how many of these pathetic nobodies are buying your t-shirts. [The smaller man pats the scarred chest of the big Japanese man glowering at his side.] MAN: You all need to know two names from here on out. [He points to himself.] MAN: Zeke Brackett! Always hated, never duplicated! The best damn manager to ever grace this hellhole of a city! [He points to the big man by his side.] ZB: Akitoshi Ogawa! The most ruthless competitor that will ever step foot on American soil! The man who single-handedly reinvented Japanese wrestling! The man who was crowned the Lord Of The Deathmatch! We are the new face of RCW! And you, in that ring... [He turns back towards the ring, where Coleman is still surrounded by officials.] ZB: You are just another sucker. [Big heel pop as Brackett spikes the microphone on the arena floor with a big *THUMP*! Brackett and Ogawa back slowly up the aisle, Ogawa showing no emotion while Brackett soaks in the heat, throwing insults at the fans.] DD: So that was Akitoshi Ogawa, and his manager Zeke Brackett. I can only assume that Ogawa has been signed to an RCW contract -- but that's no way to introduce yourself. BS: Absolutely not. But at least Coleman is now getting some medical attention. [A pair of paramedics have appeared at ringside, and bring a back-board out from under the ring. They roll into the ring and check on Coleman, as the crowd hushes, waiting for a sign that the young Tennesseean is going to be okay.] DD: Tense moments here in the Rose Garden tonight. I guess Mark Coleman is officially the winner of his match against Ryan Faith by disqualification -- but I bet he doesn't feel much like a winner right now. BS: Faith was certainly out of there in a hurry when Ogawa appeared. I wonder whether Faith knew Ogawa planned to attack Coleman? DD: Either way, Faith was impressive here tonight -- though he clearly has a mean streak about a mile wide. [In the ring, the paramedics continue to check on Coleman... who stirs and gingerly sits up! The crowd gives a huge roar of approval as Coleman is helped to his feet. The chant "LET'S GO COLE-MAN!" once again starts up.] DD: Well, it looks like Mark Coleman has been lucky enough to escape serious injury here tonight, but he's going to need more medical attention. BS: Undoubtedly, Don. Being dropped throat-first onto a steel chair can collapse your trachea, or crush your larynx. Both of those injuries are not only career-threatening, but *life-threatening*. DD: I think Ogawa knew exactly what he was doing out here, Billy Shakespeare. Unbelievable. [Coleman is helped from the ring and slowly makes his way up the aisle, supported on each side by the paramedics, receiving the relieved applause of the fans.] DD: My goodness, it's been absolute chaos here thus far tonight in the Garden, after only one match -- and I wonder what RCW President Daniel Spreadbury is going to make of Ogawa's attack on Coleman here. Hang on -- let's go backstage now. [Cut to a shot of bespectacled and besuited RCW President Daniel Spreadbury striding purposefully down the corridor, looking uncharacteristically upset. Production staff scatter as Spreadbury passes, his face set in a frown.] DD: Our esteemed President doesn't look happy, Billy Shakespeare, and who can blame him? He tried to do something really special for his friend Brody Thunder here tonight, and it was *ruined* by Owen Curtis. BS: I've known Dan Spreadbury a long time, and I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I've seen him this angry, Don. [Spreadbury stops at a locker room door and throws it open, marching inside. The camera follows, and we see that Spreadbury has entered the locker room in which Owen "Truth" Curtis and his brother Eddie Curtis are sitting, the two men laughing easily about their earlier exploits. As Spreadbury enters, they both stop laughing, and stand up, facing the President. We hear the distant jeers of the crowd as they watch the video live on the big screen in the arena.] DS: Curtis! Curtis, how dare you?! How dare you attack Brody Thunder?! [Curtis folds his arms and just smirks, pulling himself up to his full height, a good couple of inches taller than Spreadbury.] DS: What have you got to say for yourself?! On second thoughts, hold your damned tongue, I don't care what you have to say for yourself. Tonight was supposed to be a tribute to a great champion, a great man -- something you can't recognise when it's right in front of you. Your uncle will have been watching you tonight, and do you think he's proud of his nephew? I very much doubt it! [Curtis goes to open his mouth, but Spreadbury cuts him off, raising his palm to Curtis.] DS: Can it, Curtis! There's nothing I'd love more than to suspend you right here on the spot, but you have a match tonight against Paul Driscoll, and I don't want to spare the fans the sight of you getting your *ass* handed to you out there! [We hear a distant pop from the crowd! Curtis's smirk disappears, replaced by a darker expression. Spreadbury keeps on talking.] DS: So you're going to be in my office first thing tomorrow morning, and we're going to put you in front of the RCW Board of Directors, and let the chips fall where they may. But *you*... [Spreadbury jabs a finger in the direction of Eddie Curtis.] DS: ...you've got no damned business being here in the first place! You had no damned business getting yourself involved in the championship match two weeks ago, and you had no damned business being out there with your brother earlier tonight. [Eddie Curtis bristles at these remarks, but keeps his counsel.] DS: So you are *out of here*! You're gone, Curtis! Packed your damned bags and get out of my sight. [Eddie Curtis looks to Owen, who continues to bore a hole in Spreadbury with his eyes.] DS: *NOW!* [Owen nods to Eddie, whose face reddens with anger as he turns to pack his stuff. Owen inches closer to Spreadbury's face, looking down at the RCW President, who doesn't back down an inch.] DS: *Good luck* in your match later tonight, Owen. And I'll see you in my office at eight. *Don't*... be late. [Spreadbury storms out of the locker room, and two blue-shirted arena security guards step into the room to ensure Eddie Curtis leaves the arena. Owen Curtis sits down on the bench next to his bag, a dark look on his face as Eddie continues to pack up. Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Wow. We knew Curtis would face repercussions after his attack on Brody Thunder earlier tonight, but... wow, the President is *steamed*. BS: And I can't imagine Brody Thunder is exactly jumping with delight, wherever he is right now, Don. DD: Well, as the President stated, we're going to see Curtis take on Paul Driscoll later on tonight. How well will Curtis be able to focus on that match with the threat of a disciplinary hearing first thing tomorrow hanging over him? It's nearly time for our next match, but before we get back up to the ring, a brief word from one of our sponsors. [We cut to the RCW studio, where Madrock the Irrepressible awaits with a message at the ready!] M: Hey folks, I'z Madrock the Irrepressible an' I'm sure you've seen me before, stompin' my way across da place and smashing 'eads of bug-eyed tossers on the telly! Now I've been doin' sum 'eavy 'finking: I bet there are quite a few people out there who wanted to live in Madrock's boots, grinning in the face uv' advers'ty and beating up wot problems in yer life just the way I do! Well duckies, Madrock will help you on the first part, cuz 'ees comin' on out with his very own brand of Mad-wear: the Grinning Wallaby bandana! [Camera pans in towards the bandana on Madrock's head. Like the name of the product implies, there's a large rock wallaby (or should I say, a Mad-Rock wallaby) printed on the maroon fabric, and the smiling head is lined towards the forehead, literally grinning in front of anything in front of Madrock, or any other wearer!] M: Dis bandana gives the power to all who wear it to just grin and laugh at all uv' their problems. Because if you ain't laughin', the wallaby is gonna do it for you; an' as for the rest of the "beatin' problems part"... Well dat's up ta you, but Madrock da Irrepressible knows you can stand up to da task! Yeah, I'z been looking all across uv' my stompin' grounds in RCW an' I haven't found a single piece of clothing available dat would be fit for itz loyal fans -- Dat's why I came up wif my own! Dere already up for sale, an' you'll find them at most reputable stands at the Rose Garden arena! ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!!!! [Cut back to the announce position.] DD: Well, I don't know how it sounds to you, Billy Shakespeare, but it seems to me that Madrock is trying to muscle in on the business of one "Your Hero" Danny Daniels! BS: I can see one or two fans out here wearing these bandanas already. But they've got a long way to go before they match the popularity of the Billy Shakespeare ice-cream bars you used to be able to buy, back in the day. DD: I'm sure you're right, Billy. Anyway, it's time for our next match: let's get up to the ring. ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado vs. /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ "Supercat" Salvador Maeso [Sy Simmons stands in the centre of the ring, and brings the microphone to his lips.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first... [The hip hop rhythm of Jurassic 5's "What's Golden" begins thumping over the loudspeakers as a shower of golden sparks cascades down over the entrance.] SS: ...hailing from Tacoma, Washington, and weighing in at 236lbs, accompanied to the ring by Jodee Burwick... [Through the entrance curtain and emerging from the sparks, a slender yet muscular man in a shining golden robe strides into view with his arms to either side in double bicep bodybuilder pose. Big heel pop from the crowd!] SS: ...here is "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLDEN BOOOOOOOY" NOOOOOLAN DORAAAAAADO! [Behind Dorado, the curvaceous Jodee Burwick emerges wearing a shiny golden halter top and hot pants outfit. Shimmering golden wraparound sunglasses hide Dorado's eyes as he flashes a megawatt smile at the nearest camera before jogging down to the ring.] DD: Nolan Dorado is the picture of confidence here tonight, Billy Shakespeare. BS: As it says in the Scottish play, Don, he's "Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful." DD: If by that you mean that appearances can be deceiving, then you're absolutely right, "Spotlight." Dorado's record here in RCW now stands at 0-3, which has got to be weighing heavily on his mind, behind that arrogant smile. BS: He's been bettered by Vinny Carmazzi -- twice -- and Orin LeBlanc already, and certainly he's going to want to turn things around here tonight. [Dorado slides into the ring underneath the bottom rope. Behind him, Jodee takes a much slower pace as she slinks down to ringside and takes up a position in her boyfriend's corner.] DD: Just what kind of a factor do you think that harlot Jodee Burwick will play in this match tonight, Billy Shakespeare? BS: "A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her," Don. DD: Certainly Burwick has shown that she has one eye on burly Canadian Orin LeBlanc. But Dorado is so wrapped up in himself that he's not noticed it. [Clambering up onto the top turnbuckle, Dorado again flexes his biceps before stripping off his robe -- to a few feminine squeals of admiration -- and tossing it to Jodee. Dropping down from the turnbuckle, Dorado then swaggers around the ring before stripping off his sunglasses and tossing them aside, his brilliant smile fading as he stretches against the top rope.] DD: One thing we know about Dorado: he's one of the most exciting, explosive, high-flying young competitors in wrestling today. But his opponent here tonight, "Supercat" Salvador Maeso, is a wily ring veteran that Dorado mustn't underestimate. BS: You're quite right, Don. I've wrestled the "Supercat" myself, and he'll give anybody a run for his money. [As "What's Golden" fades from the PA, Sy Simmons once again raises the microphone to his lips.] SS: And introducing his opponent... hailing from San Lucas, Mexico and weighing in at 217 pounds... ÒSSSUUUUUUUUUPERCATÓ SAAAAAAAAALLLVVVAAADDDOOORRR MAAAEEEEEEEEESSSOOO! [Twin pillars of silver sparks explode from either side of the arena entrance as "Cat Scratch Fever" by Ted Nugent begins blasting over the loudspeakers. A slender, muscular figure dressed in black wrestling tights with snarling tigerÕs heads on the sides of the legs steps through the curtains, long curly black hair with grey streaks at the temples framing his deeply tanned face.] DD: This man is a virtual living legend in the lucha libre circuit -- but heÕs also two decades older than his opponent! BS: That shouldn't be a problem for Dorado, given that the amount of time he spends with his girlfriend should make him very much at ease in the presence of his elders. DD: Now now, Billy Shakespeare. [A small portion of the crowd cheers loudly as the rest of the audience gives a tepid response to the Mexican wrestler who jogs quickly down toward the ring, slapping hands with a few fans along the way. Maeso slides into the ring and offers his hand to Dorado. Dorado responds by removing his wraparound shades and snapping them into the luchador's face like a slingshot. Heel pop!] DD: What disrespect from Dorado! BS: Dorado may live to regret that, Don. [As Dorado laughs and points, pointing out Maeso's discomfort to Burwick on the outside, who claps in delight, match official Juan Morales signals for the bell.] * DING! DING! DING! * DD: Here's an interesting fact for you, Billy Shakespeare. RCW head official Juan Morales, who is refereeing this match, was Maeso's tag team partner about ten years back. But I don't expect their history to affect his impartiality in calling this match right down the middle. Morales is a top professional. [Dorado and Maeso circle around each other in the ring. The crowd begins to clap as they anticipate the collision of the two men. They pop as Dorado and Maeso lock up, collar and elbow, in the middle of the ring. Dorado, the stronger of the two men, easily pushes Maeso into the ropes, leapfrogs him on the return, and then hits him with a spinning leg kick on the way back! Heel pop! Maeso pops up, and is hiptossed back to the mat. The "Supercat" pops up again, and Dorado hits him with a standing dropkick! Pop!] BS: Dorado has one of the best-looking dropkicks out there, Don. Tremendous elevation, and tremendous impact. DD: I'm sure Maeso isn't such a big fan right about now. [The "Supercat" again gets back to his feet, this time wary of his younger opponent. On the outside, Burwick claps along as Dorado again strikes his double bicep pose. Heel pop!] DD: Give me a break. Dorado's so pleased with himself, you'd think he's just won the RCW Championship! [Dorado and Maeso lock up in the middle of the ring. This time Maeso slips Dorado into a side headlock, and when Dorado tries to run him into the ropes, Maeso hangs on, jumping up onto the second rope and planting Dorado with a springboard bulldog! Big pop! Dorado springs back to his feet, rubbing his neck, and charges at Maeso, who ducks under a clothesline. Dorado turns on the spot, and jabs a thumb into Maeso's eye! Big heel pop! Morales warns Dorado about the use of the thumb, but Dorado simply shrugs him off, and clotheslines Maeso to the mat.] DD: Dorado seems to think that the rules of wrestling don't apply to him, Billy Shakespeare. [Dorado brings Maeso back to his feet, and hits him with a belly-to-belly suplex! Big heel pop! Dorado waits for Maeso to rise, then sends him to the ropes. But Maeso launches himself off the ropes with a springboard high cross-body block, drawing a big pop from the crowd! Maeso hangs on and rolls through to make the cover! Morales makes the count... 1... 2... ...and Dorado kicks out! Disappointed pop from the crowd!] DD: Wow! Maeso is quicker than a hiccup, Billy Shakespeare. BS: As I said, Dorado underestimates him at his peril. Maeso has the smarts and the experience to turn this match around on a dime. [Dorado, his easy confidence apparently shaken, gets back to his feet and stares at Maeso, whose tanned face breaks into a wide smile as he beckons the "Golden Boy" towards him. Dorado charges in, and is met by a superb jumping Mexican armdrag! Big pop! Maeso is straight back to his feet, following up with a standing backflip... into a double stomp onto Dorado's stomach! Even bigger pop!] DD: Oh my! I thought Maeso was going for a standing moonsault, but that's one of the most devastating moves I've seen in some time, Billy Shakespeare! BS: Maeso is still tremendously agile for a man of his age, Don. DD: Yes, Maeso is now in his late 40s, but he moves around the ring like a man twenty years younger! BS: One can't help but notice the parallel with Jodee Burwick, Don. DD: What do you mean? BS: Well, I hear she's also surprisingly agile for a woman in her 40s! DD: Shut up, Billy -- old ears are listening! [In fact, Burwick is unaware of the commentators, instead slapping the mat in frustration, trying to encourage her charge, who still lies bent double in the centre of the ring, to get back up and back into the match. Meanwhile, Maeso goes to the corner buckles and opens his arms wide, accepting the cheers of the crowd. Glancing back over his shoulder, he goes to the top rope, and prepares to launch himself with a moonsault onto Dorado -- but Dorado spots his precarious situation, and rolls out of the ring under the bottom rope, into the waiting embrace of Jodee. Big heel pop!] DD: A smart move by Dorado there... but what's this? What's Maeso doing? BS: Oh, this may be bad, Don. [Indeed, Maeso brings himself to his full height on the top turnbuckle, cameras flashing all over the arena as Maeso... as Maeso... as Maeso launches himself to the outside with a stunning corkscrew suicida! Burwick shrieks and darts backwards, out of the firing line, as both Dorado and Maeso are completely wiped out by the impact! The crowd immediately starts chanting "HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!"] DD: Good god, Billy Shakespeare. What an absolutely extraordinary suicida from the "Supercat"! BS: Both men could be out for the count here, Don. [Morales puts the count on both men, as they both lie motionless, their chests heaving, in a tangle on the arena floor... 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... ...and then Jodee Burwick is up on the apron, trying to distract Morales with her ample bosom, which is, as usual, trying to escape from the tiny sparkly halter top that she has worn to the ring. Morales's count is broken as Burwick drops back down to the floor, and she goes to revive Dorado, helping him to his feet.] DD: That was a career-shortening move for perhaps both men, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Absolutely, Don. Dorado's back in the ring now, and Maeso is slowly getting back to his feet. I'd be amazed if this match continues at the same pace after that. [Maeso rolls back into the ring, and both he and Dorado wearily get back to their feet. Dorado goes to punch Maeso, but the "Supercat" grabs his hand, wrenching it around into a top wristlock, taking Dorado down to the mat. Both men are breathing heavily as Maeso cinches in the hold, Dorado's face screwed up in discomfort. The fans begin to chant "SU-PER-CAT! SU-PER-CAT!"] DD: Maeso seems to have won these fans over in a very short space of time, Billy Shakespeare! BS: You know how it is, Don. These people love the daredevils. [Dorado forces his way back to his feet, and lashes out with his free elbow, and Maeso is forced to relinquish the hold. Dorado sends Maeso into the ropes... Maeso ducks under a clothesline... Dorado bounces off the ropes himself... and both men launch themselves at each other with flying cross-body blocks -- and collide painfully in mid-air! Big pop!] DD: That's got to hurt! [Both men are down, and Morales again puts the count on the two of them... 1... 2... 3... 4... ...Maeso stirs, rolling to his feet while Dorado still lies flat on his back in the ring, his chest heaving. Maeso looks to the fans and points to the sky, drawing a huge pop! He immediately climbs the buckles, a little more slowly than before, and faces into the ring. He raises his arms to the sky... but while Morales checks on Dorado, Jodee Burwick again jumps up to the apron, and pulls on the ropes, causing Maeso to lose his balance... and land straddling the turnbuckle! Big sympathetic pop from the men in the crowd!] DD: That harlot Jodee Burwick! Come on, Morales! [Dorado now kips up, to a heel pop from the crowd!] BS: Looks like Dorado was playing possum, Don. A smart move from the "Golden Boy"! [Big heel pop as Dorado nimbly runs up the buckles, grabs Maeso, and *tosses* him into the ring with a big superplex! Pop! Dorado brings Maeso right back to his feet and then swings him up... holds him, hangs him there... and then brings him down on the base of his skull! Big heel pop!] DD: Good god! What a hanging brainbuster from Dorado! That's got to do it! [Dorado rolls onto the stunned Maeso to make the cover, and Morales drops to the mat... 1... 2... ...but Maeso kicks out! Pop from the crowd!] DD: What resilience from Maeso! He's still in this thing! [Dorado slaps the mat in frustration, but remains focused on his opponent, bringing him back to his feet and whipping him into the corner. Maeso hits the buckles hard with the back of his head, compounding his existing injury, and the "Supercat" slumps downwards. Dorado charges in, jumping up... bouncing off the top rope... twisting in mid-air as cameras flash all over the arena... and hits an enzuigiri kick to the back ot Maeso's head, propelling Maeso into the centre of the ring, where he falls on his face.] DD: Good god! I've never seen a move like that before! BS: Dorado is an innovator, no doubt about it. But can he put Maeso away? [Dorado climbs back to the top turnbuckle, and opens his arms wide to the fans, drawing a big heel pop -- but that heel pop quickly changes to excited cheers as a figure sprints down the aisle! Dorado's eyes widen as he looks to the aisle, and he immediately hops down from the buckle and rolls out of the ring.] DD: What the...?! Dorado looked to be going for the Golden Guillotine, but he's just left the ring... BS: It's "The Lynx"! Orin LeBlanc is hot for Dorado! [LeBlanc rounds the ring, an angry grimace on his face, and as he strides past Burwick, Burwick gives an appraising look to the Canadian, a sly smile curling at the corner of her pouting mouth.] DD: And perhaps Jodee Burwick is hot for Orin LeBlanc! But Dorado had better high-tail it out of here unless he wants a beating from the Beast! [Dorado, absolutely terrified, vaults the steel barriers at ringside and takes off through the crowd. LeBlanc, not missing a stride, vaults over the railing and chases Dorado out of sight, to the delight of the crowd. Meanwhile, Morales is busily counting out the "Golden Boy"... 6... 7... ...the crowd chants along with Morales's count as Maeso groggily gets to his feet...] "EIGHT!" "NINE!" "TEN!" [Morales signals for the bell!] * DING! DING! DING! * [Morales raises Maeso's hand in victory as the crowd cheer for the Mexican!] SS: Here is your winner... "SUUUUUUUPERCAAAAT" SAAAALVADOR MAAAAEEEEESO! [Big pop as Maeso climbs to the corner turnbuckle, raises his fists to the fans, and then somersaults backwards into the ring in celebration! Meanwhile, Burwick starts to totter back up the aisle on her high heels, a thoughtful expression on her face. Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Well, a victory for the "Supercat" here tonight translates to another defeat for Nolan Dorado. BS: His record now stands at 0-4 -- hardly a stellar start to his RCW career. But Dorado continues to show us how exciting he can be in there. If he can resolve his issues with Orin LeBlanc and Vinny Carmazzi, I'm convinced we're going to see the "Golden Boy" live up to his name sooner rather than later. [Cut to the back, where one of RCW's more interesting personas is seen arriving to the building. The crowd pops as they watch "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy making his entrance to the dressing room area a little late. He's dressed to kill as per usual, a pair of blue jeans ripped at the knees, a white wifebeater undershirt, plaid sweater, black fedora hat and of course, a nice thick lit stoagie hanging out of his mouth. He's carrying his worn duffel bag over his shoulder, but it is apparently weighing him down. He passes by several backstage personnel and greets each one.] LC: Hey lad.. Lad. G'day you.. Hey lad. [Cassidy arrives upon the door marked PRESIDENT. He knocks at the door and pokes his head in. We see President Daniel Spreadbury sitting behind the desk on the phone, his shirtsleeves rolled up. The moment he spots wrestling's first hobo entering the office, he rises out of his seat.] DS: I'll call you back. [Dan hangs up the phone as Cassidy files into the office.] LC: Hey boss, how's she go? DS: Mr. Cassidy -- I should warn you, I'm in no mood for any of your shenanigans tonight LC: Then I'll be quick. Listen. Sorry I'm late but Molly was acting up and I had to push 'er three blocks before I got here. DS: Molly? LC: Yeah, Molly. My chevette. She's my ride. DS: Oh. Can you get to the point? LC: So boss, I was lookin' at the board with tonight's match-ups and I noticed a problem. DS: What's that? LC: I ain't on it! How do you expect a lad to make a living if you won't let him fight? [A smile playing across his hitherto serious features, Dan reaches out to pat "The Jersey Drifter" on the back. However, he stops and thinks twice about willingly touching him.] DS: Look, Liam, don't worry about it. After your performance against Trevor Lansing two weeks ago, consider it a well-deserved night off. LC: But I don't *want* a night off. I wanna get paid and the only way to do that is to fight. DS: No, Liam. The contract you signed is a guaranteed contract. LC: A what? DS: A guaranteed contract. It basically means that you will get paid whether you compete on a show or not. Even if you win or lose, you still get paid. LC: You're [bleep]'in me, ain't you? You mean I don't even have to go out to the ring tonight? I could just sit around on my arse all night, and you'll still pay me? DS: Yes, Liam. Look, I'm really very busy tonight. Creative didn't have enough time in the broadcast to fit in a match for you. And after last week's knock-out, I think some of the boys might be a little afraid to sign up against you. [Liam smiles to himself. This idea of a guaranteed contract is clearly completely foreign to him.] LC: God I love bein' a wrassler. Oh no. [Liam suddenly looks concerned and fumbles for the zipper to the duffel bag hanging off his shoulder.] LC: So if I ain't got a fight, what am I supposed to do with all this stuff? [Liam unzips the bag. Instead of carrying ring gear or anything that a normal wrestler might have, the bag is filled with nothing but booze. Crown royal. Jack Daniels. Smirnoff vodka. Scotch. There's even a bottle or two of red wine.] DS: My god! What were you planning to do with all of that? LC: Easy. This side here is for before a match, you know to get all the kinks worked out. And this half is for after a match. A victory celebration. [Dan groans.] DS: You mean to tell me you've been drunk each time you've wrestled? LC: I wouldn't say drunk, lad. This just puts me in the right place. We'll leave 'er at that. [Cassidy walks towards the door.] LC: So boss, if I ain't got a fight, what am I supposed to do with myself tonight? DS: [growing exasperated] I don't know, Liam. Go find a seat and watch the show. You might learn a thing or two by watching the other competitors. LC: Find a seat and watch the show. Ya know, I don't mind bein' paid to watch a wrasslin' show, I tell you that. [Dan eyeballs that bag of booze.] DS: Just. Liam. Try to stay out of trouble, okay? I've had enough trouble here tonight, and I really don't need any more. LC: I ain't got the faintest clue what you mean. [Cassidy sports a coy grin on his face and departs from the office. Spreadbury sits back down and rests his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair. Cut back to ringside.] DD: I'm pretty sure our President can do without the distraction of Liam Cassidy here this evening. BS: You're not wrong, Don. DD: Well, folks, it's time for our next match. Let's get back up to the ring. ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / Kolya Sudakov vs. Vinny Carmazzi /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Sy Simmons raises the microphone to his lips as match official Bobby Belshee enters the ring.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first... ["Hunter/Killer" by Quo Vadis kicks in over the PA, to a huge heel pop from the crowd.] SS: ...accompanied to the ring by "Agent to the Stars" Ben Waterson, hailing from Kemerovo, Russia, and weighing in at 230lbs... KOOOOOOOOOOOLLYAAAAAAA SUUUUUUUUDAKOOOOOOOOV! [The crowd continue to jeer as Sudakov, wearing his plain black tights with "HUNTER" written down one side and "KILLER" written down the other, strides out into the aisle, his face, as always, the picture of determination and disdain.] DD: Here comes the pro wrestling hunter/killer, Billy Shakespeare. This man is an absolute animal in the ring -- he left Danny Daniels in a pool of his own blood two weeks ago. BS: And he's certainly not the most popular man in RCW. Just listen to these fans! [As Sudakov makes his way down to the ring, he is followed by the besuited Ben Waterson, who is as reactive to the fans' jeers as Sudakov is impassive, getting into it with just about every fan on either side of the aisle who wishes to express an opinion.] DD: And there's Sudakov's mouthpiece. Waterson is going to give himself a coronary out here. BS: He's got, uh, passion. [Sudakov rolls into the ring under the bottom rope, and Waterson follows him up the ringsteps and climbs between the ropes, pointing to his charge and telling the people to respect him. This, of course, only makes them jeer all the louder. "Hunter/Killer" fades from the PA as Sy Simmons once again raises the microphone.] SS: And introducing his opponent... ["I Stand Alone" by Godsmack hits the speakers, bringing a huge pop from the crowd! A spotlight sweeps to the top of the aisle, as the curtain is thrown aside and Vinny Carmazzi steps out into the arena. Carmazzi's dirty blonde hair is slicked back, and he has a couple of days' growth of stubble on his chin. He runs his hand over his face as he stops for a moment at the head of the aisle, drinking in the cheers of the crowd.] SS: ...hailing from Jersey City, New Jersey, and weighing in at 235lbs... here is VIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNY CAAAAAAAAAAAARMAAAAAZZZZZI! [Carmazzi makes his way down to the ring, slapping the hands of fans on either side of the ring.] DD: Here comes Vinny Carmazzi, perhaps the best pure submission-style wrestler in RCW. BS: He's been very impressive thus far, Don, that's for sure. But if Carmazzi has a weakness, it's that he's very, very competitive. As he's coming down to the ring, you just know he's looking at Sudakov, and challenging himself to beat him at his own game. DD: His own game being mixed martial arts, Billy Shakespeare? BS: Exactly. And I'm just not sure that's the best gameplan for Carmazzi to be taking going into this match. DD: Listening to the way Carmazzi speaks, you can almost *feel* his drive and desire -- some might even say desperation -- to climb to the top of the mountain. BS: And Sudakov's would be an impressive scalp right here. [Carmazzi reaches the bottom of the aisle. He stops for a moment, looking up at Waterson and Sudakov in the aisle, and then slides right into the ring! Predictably, Sudakov immediately starts stomping away on Carmazzi!] DD: Carmazzi had to know that was going to happen -- and he slides right on in there into the lion's den! BS: His desire to prove himself is so strong, he wants Sudakov to give him his best shot. [Carmazzi fights his way to his feet as Belshee forces Waterson out of the ring. Sudakov drives a knee into Carmazzi's midsection, drawing a heel pop from the crowd. Carmazzi hits back with a palm strike, aiming for the bridge of the Russian's nose, but doesn't get all of it, as Sudakov instinctively pulls his head back. Carmazzi lunges at Sudakov again, and the Russian chops Carmazzi in the side of the neck, slowing down the New Jerseyan. Carmazzi staggers towards Sudakov, who clinches Carmazzi's head with his arms, and then repeatedly brings his knees up into Carmazzi's midsection. Big heel pop!] DD: Thai-style knee strikes from Sudakov here in the early going. Carmazzi doesn't want to be on the receiving end of too many of these! [Carmazzi is released from the clinch, looking a little groggy, but has the wherewithal to duck under a forearm strike from Sudakov, spinning and grabbing hold of the Kimuri armbar, yanking Sudakov down to the mat! Huge pop!] DD: Out of nowhere! Out of nowhere Carmazzi has the Kimuri armbar! [Sudakov is right by the ropes, and grabs hold of the bottom rope with his free arm. Belshee calls for the break, and Carmazzi sportingly breaks the hold right away. As Carmazzi backs off, Sudakov lashes out with a kick to Carmazzi's knee, and the Russian is quickly back on his feet, again driving his boot into Carmazzi's knee, and then applying a kneebar. Carmazzi reaches over with his free arm, and pulls back on Sudakov's hair. Belshee warns Carmazzi over the hair-pulling. Carmazzi reaches over again, and this time manages to hook his arm around Sudakov's chin, pulling him into a front facelock. Sudakov is forced to relinquish the hold on Carmazzi's knee, and Carmazzi releases the facelock. Both men get back to their feet, warily looking at each other. On the outside, Waterson slaps the mat and shouts instructions to his charge.] DD: A veritable submission showcase being put on by these two men thus far. [Sudakov tests Carmazzi with a few Thai kicks, whistling them inches past his face. Carmazzi gives a grim smile, and then lunges in with a clothesline. Big pop! Sudakov bounces back to his feet, and Carmazzi quickly grabs his left arm and wraps it around behind him into a hammerlock. Sudakov grimaces and tries to reach around with his other arm, but Carmazzi immediately switches it into a chickenwing, further straining Sudakov's shoulder. And then Carmazzi hoists Sudakov up with a chickenwing suplex, driving him down to the mat! Big pop!] BS: It looks like Carmazzi's settled on Sudakov's shoulder as his body part of choice here tonight. DD: Strikes me as a good move, Billy. Sudakov can't suplex you, choke you, or -- heaven forbid -- Pimp Slap you if that shoulder of his is in bad shape. [Sudakov again comes back to his feet, and now it's Carmazzi's turn to unload on the Russian with a series of knee strikes. Waterson thumps the mat in dismay as Carmazzi sends Sudakov for the ride, and hits him with a spinning heel kick on the rebound. Big pop! Sudakov *again* springs back to his feet, and now Carmazzi grabs a wristlock and armdrags his opponent. Big pop!] DD: Wristlock armdrag -- and another! And another! [The crowd is on its feet as Carmazzi releases Sudakov after a third rolling wristlock armdrag, and then Carmazzi points to the top! Big pop as Carmazzi steps to the apron and then climbs to the top buckle. Ben Waterson is quickly up on the apron -- and brazenly shoves Carmazzi right back into the ring! Big heel pop!] DD: Oh, come on! Match official Bobby Belshee should disqualify Sudakov right there! BS: Belshee wasn't afraid to put his hands on Sudakov two weeks ago -- even though he ended up getting a beating for his trouble. I think he wants to see this match contested properly -- let the better man win. DD: Bobby certainly seems to regard disqualification as a last resort, but he's put Waterson on notice after that infraction. [Waterson raises his hands to the official in mock apology, and drops back to the arena floor with a sly grin on his face. Carmazzi, having landed hard on his back, gets slowly back to his feet as Sudakov also stands. Carmazzi shoots an angry glance down to Waterson, which is enough of an opening for Sudakov, who begins blasting his opponent with a flurry of kicks and strikes, forcing him back into the corner!] DD: VIOLENCE PARTY! VIOLENCE PARTY! [The crowd jeers loudly as Sudakov continues to unload on Carmazzi... until Carmazzi grabs hold of Sudakov's upper body and pulls it towards him... then climbs quickly up to the second buckle, and launches himself...] DD: TORNADO DDT! Carmazzi counters the Violence Party with a Tornado DDT! BS: And he's got that armbar again! DD: Unbelievable! Carmazzi is an extraordinary wrestler! [Waterson immediately intervenes again, grabbing Carmazzi's leg and yanking him out of the ring, forcing him to release the Kimuri armbar. Waterson nails Carmazzi with a string of hard strikes, much to the dismay of the crowd!] DD: Come on, Bobby! Get Waterson out of there! [Sure enough, Belshee rolls out of the ring, getting inbetween Waterson and Carmazzi. And then Belshee points up the aisle, causing Waterson to react with fury, his face reddening as the veins in his temples stand out!] DD: Bobby Belshee has banished Waterson from ringside -- and this could be the thing that finally gives Ben Waterson the coronary he's been brewing for the last couple of months! [Waterson reluctantly heads out to the aisle, shouting abuse at Belshee as he goes. He pulls something out of his pocket and throws it to Sudakov in the ring, who catches it -- and slips it on.] DD: It's Sudakov's red glove. You know what follows the red glove, folks! BS: How could we forget?! [Carmazzi rolls back into the ring as Sudakov adjusts the fit of the fingers of the glove. Sudakov grabs Carmazzi as he stands, applying a rear waistlock... and then tosses him over with a German suplex! Carmazzi bounces back up, and Sudakov now hits him with a gutwrench slam! Sudakov drags Carmazzi to his feet and hits a bridging fisherman's suplex! Belshee is in to make the count... 1... 2... ...and Carmazzi kicks out! Big pop!] DD: Sudakov is right back on Carmazzi here. He's a tenacious competitor. [Sudakov sends a groggy Carmazzi to the ropes -- and then brings his left leg swinging around in an attempt at a high left kick! Carmazzi ducks out of the way, and turns on the spot... only for Sudakov to spin around again, and at the second time of asking connects with his boot! Big heel pop!] DD: HIGH LEFT KICK! HIGH LEFT KICK! BS: This match is over. All Sudakov needs to do is pin Carmazzi! [But Sudakov doesn't pin Carmazzi: he brings the New Jerseyan back to his feet, Carmazzi's eyes looking glassy.] DD: It looks like Carmazzi is on dream street, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Sudakov doesn't want to just beat Vinny Carmazzi, he wants to humiliate him. [Sudakov lets go of the groggy Carmazzi, and wheels back with his gloved fist. The crowd jeers in anticipation!] DD: Here it comes! Here comes the Pimp Slap! [The pro wrestling hunter/killer spins towards Carmazzi... but Carmazzi grabs hold of the fist and drops to the canvas, applying the Kimuri armbar, quickly applying a body scissors as well! Huge heel pop!] DD: Oh my! Carmazzi has the Kimuri armbar! Sudakov is all locked up with no place to go! [Big pop as Carmazzi cinches in the armbar with all the force he can muster. Sudakov strains against the body scissors, but he's completely immobile in the ring. Sudakov shows no signs of tapping out, though: the crowd starts chanting "VIN-NY! VIN-NY!" as Carmazzi keeps the hold locked in tight!] BS: Sudakov just will not quit! This man is as tough as they come, Don. DD: He's been in the Kimuri armbar for close to thirty seconds now; his body must be absolutely wracked with pain! [The volume of the crowd's cheers continue to grow as Sudakov reaches out towards the bottom rope... but Carmazzi quickly nips it in the bud, rolling himself and Sudakov over, keeping the hold locked in the entire time. Belshee checks on Sudakov, who continues to show no signs of quitting.] DD: Sudakov has been in the armbar for over a minute now, and he's still got nowhere to go. What will it take to make this man tap out? [Carmazzi leans back again, applying as much pressure as he can. Sweat pours off the faces of both men as the crowd continue to chant "VIN-NY! VIN-NY!" Sudakov's free arm raises off the mat a moment, and the crowd's noise grows even louder!] DD: Is this it? Is Sudakov about to submit? [Sudakov's hand hovers above the mat... hovers... hovers... and then hits the mat once... twice... three times... four times! Huge pop from the crowd! Belshee signals for the bell!] * DING! DING! DING! * DD: He did it! Carmazzi made Sudakov tap out! Carmazzi has won it! BS: A really impressive victory, Don. Really impressive. [Carmazzi's face is still etched in concentration, still keeping the hold locked in tight, even as "I Stand Alone" kicks in once more over the PA. Finally Bobby Belshee coaxes Carmazzi to release the hold, and as Carmazzi rolls back to his feet, Belshee raises his arm in victory! The "VIN-NY! VIN-NY!" chants continue to echo around the Garden!] SS: Here is your winner, by submission... VIIIINNNNNNNNNNY CARMAAAAAAZZI! [Carmazzi pushes his dirty blond hair out of his face and looks out at the fans, who continue to cheer him! Sudakov rolls out of the ring, and clutches at his shoulder as he makes his way up the aisle.] DD: Kolya Sudakov is one of the most dangerous men I've ever seen in the squared circle -- and tonight Vinny Carmazzi went move-for-move with him. BS: Carmazzi did a great job tonight. But don't take anything away from Sudakov. He's legitimately a tough, tough guy. I've never seen anybody stay in a Kimuri armbar for longer than ten, maybe fifteen seconds without tapping out. Sudakov lasted well over a minute in the hold before it simply became too much for him. DD: And just how tough is Carmazzi? He found a counter to the Violence Party, and he took a High Left Kick and still kept on ticking! BS: That's twelve years of taking a beating night in, night out, Don. Carmazzi has probably taken just about every hold there is in wrestling in his career, and he's just tough as old boots. DD: Folks, we have to take a short break for some messages from our sponsors. We'll be right back! [As Carmazzi climbs to the second turnbuckle and acknowledges the cheers and chants of the crowd, fade to commercials.] [Fade back to a shot of the announce table, Don Ditka and Billy Shakespeare sitting, both men wearing their headsets.] DD: Welcome back to RCW RAMPAGE, folks. It's been a chaotic night here in the Rose Garden so far. We've seen "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder, invited here as the special guest of RCW President Daniel Spreadbury, end up on the receiving end of an attack by Owen "Truth" Curtis and his brother Eddie. We've seen Nolan Dorado chased out of the arena by Orin LeBlanc. We've seen Mark Coleman attacked by a huge Japanese monster named Akitoshi Ogawa. And just moments ago we saw Kolya Sudakov forced to submit to Vinny Carmazzi's Kimuri armbar. Just what else are we going to see here tonight?! BS: I wouldn't like to hazard a guess, Don. But we still have two big matches coming up. DD: Indeed we do. Madrock the Irrepressible will face the aforementioned Orin LeBlanc momentarily in singles competition, and... hang on, I'm being told by the producer that we need to go backstage immediately. [The scene quickly switches to a backstage area where crew members can be seen scattering as a human form suddenly hurtles past the camera into a painful collision with the concrete wall. As the man stumbles backward, leaving a small splatter of blood on the wall where he struck it, he becomes recognizable as "Supercat" Salvador Maeso. The Mexican luchador looks stunned and defenseless as "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado steps into view and viciously nails a superkick to the jaw that flattens Maeso. Standing over the luchador, DoradoÕs face is screwed up with rage as he screams down at the semi-conscious man.] ND: YOU WON?! YOU THINK YOU'VE WON?! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'VE WON NOW?! [A vile kick to the side of the face sends Maeso rolling sideways across the floor before Dorado storms past the camera, shoving it aside so that the view tilts wildly. After a second of disorientation, it focuses on the still form of Maeso who lies unconscious in a pool of his blood as the enraged Dorado can be seen stomping away. Nervous crew members can be seen returning to the area as a medic rushes over to check on Maeso before the scene returns back to ringside.] DD: Nolan Dorado just brutally attacked Salvador Maeso backstage following his count-out loss and the "Golden Boy" is not taking that setback well. BS: "I am one, my liege, whom the vile blows and buffets of the world hath so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world." DD: I'm sorry, Billy Shakespeare, you've lost me. BS: The Scottish play, Don. And while Nolan Dorado may be reckless in his spite, he has much to answer for -- and I believe Orin LeBlanc is just the one to make him give those answers. DD: That may well be the case, folks. It's time for our next match now, and... no, hang on, I'm being told we have to go backstage again. [Cut to the back, where Liam Cassidy is kneeling down. He is next to a young RCW fan who can't be over the age of ten. "The Jersey Drifter" appears to be signing his first ever autograph.] LC: You said your name was Jonas? [The boy nods. Liam continues to sign. The cameraman decides to walk around to Cassidy's front to get a better shot. Liam finishes the autograph. He hands the bottle to the kid. Wait. Bottle? Yep. Instead of the usual 8x10, Liam has chosen to autograph a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels Tennessee Whiskey. The boy doesn't know what to think.] Boy: Gee. Thanks mister. [Liam rises and smiles.] LC: Now you be a good lad. [Just then, the boy's mother returns from the concession stand.] Mom: Jonas, who is that man? I told you not to talk to strangers. What is that? [She grabs the bottle from her son.] Mom: Did he give this to you? [The boy nods. Cassidy's eyes go wide as the woman approaches him.] Mom: How *DARE* you give alcohol to my child! I should have you arrested you. you. Why you're just a hobo, aren't you? My god! You're an awful man! Security! Security! [Liam quickly grabs his bag and high tails it out of there. The mother turns back to her son and inspects the bottle. She reads aloud.] Mom: "To Jonas. Seen it all, done it all, can't remember most of it. Your friend, Liam Cassidy." [She glares in the direction that Cassidy took off. Two security guards quickly race past the screen heading in the same direction. Now cut to a shot of a ringing telephone. A production assistant answers.] PA: Phone call for a Madrock D. Irrepressible? M: CLOSE ENUFF! [Out comes Madrock, charging into the narrow hallway and towards the phone, screaming and scattering all before him. Only when he reaches the telephone does he stop and he answers in the calmest manner in the world.] M: 'Ello, Madrock speakin'! ... HEY MATE!!! 'ow you doin'? ... yeah, I appreciate it, I been workin' on it on my spare time ... uh huh? and you called that wot again? a wristwatch? No, a wristlock! ... Right, I'm all prepared, and I'm gonna do this, thanks for calling! [The commotion brings forth RCW interviewer Jamie Bond, who approaches with a lot more caution than the last time Madrock was on the phone (see last On the Wire). As Madrock hangs up the phone, Jamie begins questioning the big Australian.] JB: Mr. Madrock sir, who was that over the phone that you spoke with? M: Why Jamie, dat was juss da Charlie Brown, wishin' me good fortunes on my match! Yeah, I told everyone last week that I wuz teachin' Bailey da fine arts of perfushional Rugby... well in return, Bailey's been teachin' me the basics uv' perfushional rasslin'! I've been doin' scrum tactiks da whole time: ded 'ard and brut'lly effective if you ask me! But now I'm facin' Orin LeBlanc, who's angry about Lord knows wot and I've been 'finking... Frenchy needs a good surprise! He wants to do the twist on ol' Madrock, but I'm not ready to tie the knot, I'm going to rope-a-dope! Cuz I'm 321 pounds of steel an' determination wif no humiliation, accept no imitation or you apply aspiration, it's my vocation, to be the sensation, to be the celebration cuz I'm MADROCK and I came to FIGHT! KICK ASS! AND WIN! [Madrock leaves a bewildered Jamie Bond as he makes his way towards the curtain. Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Madrock the Irrepressible has been learning mat wrestling from Bailey Fitzgerald? This night really *is* full of surprises! Let's get up to the ring. ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / Madrock the Irrepressible vs. /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc [In the squared circle, Sy Simmons brings his microphone to his lips one more time.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first... [Suddenly "Afternoon Delight" kicks in over the PA, to a mixed pop from the crowd.] DD: Hang on a moment -- that's... oh, brother. BS: Here comes "Your Hero" Danny Daniels! [Indeed, striding out into the aisle is Danny Daniels, proudly wearing his yellow "YOUR HERO" t-shirt. He stops at the head of the aisle and gives a big double thumbs up to the fans, lifting his wraparound shades for a moment and nodding in appreciation of the packed-out crowd in the Garden.] DD: Now I don't need to tell you, folks, that Danny Daniels is not scheduled as one of the participants in this match. [Daniels makes his way down to ringside, carrying a small duffel bag. Rather than getting into the ring, he rounds the far side of the ring and goes to sit with Ditka and Shakespeare at the broadcast position.] DD: Oh, dear god. BS: Uh... welcome, I guess, Danny Daniels. D'YH'D: [putting on his headset] Thanks, Bobby! Dave, nice to see you again! DD: My name's... never mind. D'YH'D: With ol' Maddock about to come out here and try to hawk his crummy hankies, I thought that what this evening really needed was a dose of... ME! "Your Undefeated Hero", Danny Daniels. DD: Naturally. ["Afternoon Delight" fades from the PA as Sy Simmons once again raises his microphone.] SS: As I was saying... Introducing first... [The rambunctious chorus of "Tubthumping" by Chumbawamba hits over the PA to a decent pop from the crowd.] SS: ...hailing from Cockatoo Island, Australia, and weighing in at 327lbs, here is... MAAAAAAAAAAADDROOOOOCK THE IRRRRREPRRRRRRREEESSIBLE! [Madrock stomps out into the aisle to the cheers of the crowd. He's wearing one of his "Grinning Wallaby" bandanas on his head, and points to it as he makes his way down to the ring. Spotting a couple of fans who have already bought bandanas, he stomps over to them and grabs them both in a hug -- or is it a headlock?] DD: And here comes the giant Australian, making his way to the ring. D'YH'D: I think you'll find Maddock is from *Boston*, Dirk. DD: That's *Don*. I don't know why I bother. D'YH'D: Nor do I, Den. You should let the people have what they want, which is... ME! "Your Undefeated Hero", Danny Daniels! BS: Since you're out here, Danny... What do you make of Madrock's merchandise? D'YH'D: I'll tell you what I make of it, Willy. Uh... what stuff is that, again? BS: Never mind. [Madrock finally makes his way down to the ring, and rolls in. He gives a bandana to Sy Simmons, who smiles uneasily and removes it from his head, smoothing his hair back down as "Tubthumping" fades.] SS: And introducing his opponent... [Pearl Jam's "Do The Evolution" kicks in over the PA, to a big pop from the crowd.] SS: ...hailing from St. Catherine's, Ontario, Canada, and weighing in at 275lbs... he is OOOOOOORRRIN "THE LYYYYYYYYYYYYNX" LEBLAAAAAAAAAAANC! [Big pop as the burly Canadian marches out into the aisle. He barely acknowledges the cheers of the crowd as he makes his way down to the ring.] DD: A very focused and intense-looking Orin LeBlanc here tonight. BS: My guess is that he views this match as something of a distraction -- he'd rather be wringing the neck of Nolan Dorado than going up against this giant Australian. D'YH'D: This is Pepe "Le Skunk" LePeu, right? The animal guy from Paris? Or was it Quebec? DD: Will you be quiet, Danny Daniels?! D'YH'D: Pepe. Heh. He doesn't look like much, and I bet he doesn't smell as good as... ME! "Your Unde... DD: [interrupting] Yes, thank you, Danny Daniels. [LeBlanc rounds on the ring and hops up to the apron. He ducks into the ring under the top rope, and faces Madrock across the squared circle. Pearl Jam fades from the PA, and official Pat Nickrick signals for the bell.] * DING! DING! DING! * [LeBlanc charges Madrock, and the two men collide in the centre of the ring with a thud! Madrock is staggered, but doesn't go down. LeBlanc charges in again, and this time Madrock swats him down with a clubbing clothesline. Pop! LeBlanc comes right back up and charges the Australian again, this time ducking under the attempted clothesline, and turning behind him, quickly applying a hammerlock on Madrock's right arm. LeBlanc cinches in the hammerlock as tight as he can. Madrock actually manages to duck his way out of the hold to reverse it!] DD: Madrock the Irrepressible just reversed a wrestling hold, Billy Shakespeare. D'YH'D: What a gutwrench suplex! DD: Uh, sure. Could it be that Madrock's wrestling lessons from the late lamented Bailey Fitzgerald have paid off? [LeBlanc strikes Madrock's throat, staggering the big man, then knocks him over with a clothesline of his own, and quickly drops the leg on his throat. Without missing a beat, LeBlanc applies an armbar. The big Australian powers out, getting back to his feet and busting LeBlanc off with a ham-sized fist. Pop!] DD: Madrock's got a power advantage over LeBlanc here. BS: But LeBlanc is quicker, has more solid fundamentals, and he's no slouch in the strength department. D'YH'D: Though he's no match for... ME! "Your... DD: [interrupting] We get it, already. D'YH'D: Keep your hair on, Dave. That *is* hair, right? DD: Will you stop?! [LeBlanc and Madrock are back to their feet. Madrock charges in and LeBlanc brings him down again with an arm drag. Big pop as Madrock hits the canvas hard! The Australian is up quickly, and gets arm dragged again! Pop! Madrock charges in again, and this time is ready for LeBlanc, blocking the armdrag, and producing an underhook suplex of his own that slams LeBlanc to the mat hard!] DD: An impressive throw from Madrock! D'YH'D: Not a bad gutwrench suplex. BS: That wasn't a gutwrench suplex, Danny Daniels. D'YH'D: Sure it was, Bertie. Can we get a camera over here? I want to see how this t-shirt looks on me on camera. DD: Danny Daniels, we're trying to call a match out here. D'YH'D: I know what to call this match... a stinker! Maddock the Haddock and Pepe LePeu -- it doesn't get much stinkier than that. What this match needs is... DD: [interrupting] You? "Our undefeated hero" Danny Daniels, by any chance? D'YH'D: Why, yes, Darren, absolutely right! DD: The name is *Don*. D'YH'D: Sure, sure. Hey, you did a great job selling "YOUR HERO" t-shirts last week, boys. Feel like selling a few more tonight? I have a duffel bag full of them right here. DD: I'm sure you do, Danny Daniels. Can we please concentrate on the match? D'YH'D: Whatever you say, Darth. [LeBlanc is slowed a step or two by Madrock's big suplex, and Madrock capitalises, picking up the Canadian and whipping him hard into the corner, then following in with a big splash!] DD: Good god! I think the ring just moved about three inches! [Madrock grabs hold of LeBlanc again, and whips him into the opposite corner, then charges across the ring with an unmistakable battle cry... ...but LeBlanc dodges out of the way, and Madrock eats turnbuckle! Pop! LeBlanc, jumping up, grabs hold of Madrock's neck, and brings him down to the canvas with a thud! LeBlanc is straight back up, and quickly applies a dragon sleeper on Madrock! Big pop! But the big Australian is too close to the ropes, and Nickrick instructs LeBlanc to break the hold. "The Lynx" waits until the count of four before releasing his opponent.] BS: LeBlanc is sailing close to the wind here, Don, waiting on the official's count before releasing the hold -- but every second Madrock's in that dragon sleeper it's depriving the big man of oxygen. DD: You can't blame LeBlanc for doing whatever he can to try and neutralise the power advantage Madrock has in this match. But we've seen that LeBlanc is quicker, and that may count big time going forwards. [As Madrock gets back to his feet, LeBlanc bounces off the opposite ropes, and comes at the Australian with a lariat -- which connects, but Madrock doesn't go down! LeBlanc bounces off the ropes a second time, and hits another lariat -- but still Madrock doesn't go down! And then... big pop!] DD: At the third time of asking, LeBlanc hits Madrock with a Thesz press, and the big man is down again! BS: It's like chopping down a redwood, Don. D'YH'D: "Your Undefeatable Hero" could have knocked him down first time -- by telling him the incredible deal we have tonight on my "YOUR HERO" t-shirts. One for $16, or buy two for $48! [Madrock rolls out of the ring to collect his thoughts, and LeBlanc follows him outside, despite the protestations of match official Pat Nickrick. LeBlanc grabs Madrock from behind, and whips him hard into the ringsteps!] * CLANG! * [Madrock knocks the top half of the ringsteps clear off with the force of the impact! LeBlanc gives a small smirk as he pushes the hair back out of his face and moves in to bring Madrock back to his feet.] DD: We're seeing evidence of that mean streak in "The Lynx" here tonight. He's not averse to taking advantage by whatever means necessary. [LeBlanc goes to whip Madrock into the railings... but the Australian reverses, sending LeBlanc for the ride instead, and LeBlanc hits hard! Mixed pop from the crowd! Meanwhile, Nickrick's count has reached five!] DD: Both of these men in danger of being counted out here tonight, Billy Shakespeare! [Madrock rolls back into the ring to break the official's count at seven, and LeBlanc picks himself up gingerly and follows the big man back into the ring. Madrock is waiting for him, grabbing him by the arms and pulling him to his feet... and then starting to turn... starting to spin...] DD: Oh my! Madrock is going for his trademark giant swing! [Madrock turns in the centre of the ring, LeBlanc's legs going out from under him as the big Australian builds up momentum. The crowd cheers as Madrock goes round and round, round and round... until he finally releases LeBlanc, who goes flying into the corner turnbuckles with tremendous force! Big pop! LeBlanc steps forwards into the ring, and tumbles to the canvas, where he is pounced upon by Madrock, who makes the cover... 1... 2... ...LeBlanc kicks out! Big pop!] DD: My goodness, the power of that giant swing is quite frightening! D'YH'D: That gutwrench suplex has got nothing on the moves performed by... ME! "Your Undefeatable Hero" Danny Daniels! BS: LeBlanc just kicked out on instinct there, Don. He may be very badly winded by that impact. [Madrock pulls LeBlanc back to his feet and performs a sloppy belly-to-belly suplex! Pop! Madrock then bounces off the ropes and goes for a full body splash -- but LeBlanc raises his knees, and Madrock lands hard, knocking the wind out of the big man! Big pop!] DD: Both men are down in the centre of the ring, and referee Pat Nickrick is putting the count on them! [The crowd chants along with the official's count...] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" [LeBlanc and Madrock both begin to stir, the audience breaking into applause as both men make their way back to their feet... and begin slugging it out in the middle of the ring, the volume of the fans' cheering growing with every blow traded! Then LeBlanc blocks a big right hand from Madrock, hitting back with two blows of his own, staggering the big Australian... then he slips around behind him, hooking one of Madrock's arms as he does so, hooks the other arm, and... Huge, huge pop!] D'YH'D: GUTWRENCH SUPLEX! DD: No, Danny Daniels -- a TIGER SUPLEX on Madrock! What absolutely amazing, amazing strength from LeBlanc! [Cameras flash all over the arena as LeBlanc falls backwards, hoisting Madrock up as he goes, and *drives* him down to the canvas, head and neck hitting with terrible impact! LeBlanc keeps the suplex bridged as Nickrick hits the canvas to make the count... 1... 2... ...and Madrock kicks out! Pop from the crowd!] DD: These fans cheering both men in this match, and what a tremendous match it is! Both men bringing out their big guns! [Madrock staggers to his feet, and LeBlanc again moves behind him. He reaches under Madrock's right arm to apply a half nelson, then pulls his other arm across his face and locks his hands around Madrock's neck. The crowd pops in anticipation!] DD: LeBlanc is going for the Beast's Burden! BS: I'm not sure he can get him up, Don! [LeBlanc seems to come to this conclusion himself, as instead of going for his trademark cobra clutch suplex, he instead sweeps the big man's legs out from under him, keeping hold of the submission manoeuvre. Big pop! Nickrick checks on Madrock, who is able to reach the ropes with one of his huge, ham-like hands, and LeBlanc is again exhorted to release the hold by Nickrick. Once more LeBlanc waits until the count of four before letting Madrock go, and Nickrick chews him out about it, LeBlanc pushing the hair out of his face to reveal fiery eyes.] DD: LeBlanc needs to keep his temper here, Billy Shakespeare. He's famously fiery, but he needs to keep things under control. BS: Quite right, Don. LeBlanc can control Madrock as long as he controls his temper. If he explodes, all bets are off. D'YH'D: Speaking of bets, there's no surer thing than a "YOUR HERO" t-shirt. Made from finest Egyptian cotton, they're an absolute bargain at $18 each, or two for $52! DD: Have those prices just gone up again, Danny Daniels? D'YH'D: Demand is everything, Dennis. Everybody wants a piece of... ME! "Your Undefeated Hero" Danny Daniels! DD: Can we get this guy out of here now? D'YH'D: Actually, I was thinking of going to sell some more t-shirts anyway. Excuse me, Boris, Daryl... [We hear a *thump* as Daniels divests himself of his headset and stands up, pulling t-shirts from the duffel bag he brought to ringside. Meanwhile, in the ring Madrock has got himself back to his feet as LeBlanc argues with Nickrick. Madrock stomps over, capitalising on LeBlanc's distraction by picking him up with a good, old-fashioned atomic drop. Old-school pop! LeBlanc is staggered for a moment, and Madrock pounces, whipping the Canadian into the ropes. As LeBlanc comes back, Madrock moves to backdrop him...] DD: Madrock going for the Coming Down Abbott's Peak! Here it comes! BS: No! Countered by LeBlanc! LeBlanc wriggles free and brings Madrock down with a sunset flip! Impressive! DD: Impressive indeed -- and LeBlanc hooks the legs for the cover! [Nickrick drops to make the count... 1... 2... ...and Madrock kicks out! Big pop!] DD: This has been a great, high-impact match, Billy Shakespeare! BS: It certainly has. Madrock has shown an increased understanding of some wrestling fundamentals, and LeBlanc has shown us he's got power, he's got solid submission stuff -- he's the real deal. DD: But which of these two men is going to come out on top -- oh, give me a break! [Ditka's dismay is directed at Danny Daniels, who has now climbed to the ring apron and is holding up one of his yellow "YOUR HERO" t-shirts, showing it off to the fans in the front row! At that very moment, LeBlanc whips Madrock into the ropes -- and Madrock collides with Daniels, sending him tumbling to the arena floor, t-shirts flying everywhere! Big pop! The big Australian staggers into the ring... and finds himself hoisted up by LeBlanc with a Death Valley Driver! Huge pop!] DD: DVD! DVD! Madrock hit Daniels on the apron, and walked right into a Death Valley Driver from LeBlanc! [LeBlanc makes the cover, and Nickrick drops to the canvas to make the count... 1... 2... ...3! Big pop!] * DING! DING! DING! * DD: He got him! He got him! LeBlanc pinned the big man with a Death Valley Driver! BS: Again, impressive power from LeBlanc, Don. Lifting nearly 330lbs up and hitting that Death Valley Driver is no mean feat. DD: But grant the assist -- however inadvertent -- to Danny Daniels, who is picking himself up here at ringside. [Nickrick raises LeBlanc's arm to a big pop from the crowd as Sy Simmons makes it official.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner.... OOOOORRRRRRRRRRIN "THE LYYYYYYYNX" LEBLAAAAAAAAAAAANC! [Big pop as "Do The Evolution" kicks in over the PA and LeBlanc rolls out of the ring, immediately making his way up the aisle.] DD: Madrock certainly shouldn't feel too disheartened by this loss -- he matched LeBlanc every step of the way, and certainly could have picked up the... hang on a minute! What the hell is going on here?! [The crowd gives a confused pop as none other than Ryan Faith pops over the guard rail from the crowd and slides into the ring, waiting for Madrock to get to his feet.] DD: Ryan Faith vanished off the scene pretty damned quickly when Akitoshi Ogawa jumped Mark Coleman earlier tonight -- has he been out in the crowd this whole time? And what's his business with Madrock the Irrepressible? [Madrock gets to his feet, and sees Faith in the ring. Before he can react, Faith *drives* a boot into the Australian's midsection, doubling him over... and hooks one arm... then the other...] BS: He's going for the Test of Faith! DD: Madrock weighs a good hundred pounds more than Faith does! Can he get him up?! [And Faith *does* get him up, hoisting the Australian up and then *powering* him down with the sit-out double underhook piledriver known as the Test of Faith. Huge heel pop as Faith stands over the prone Madrock, and a microphone on a nearby camera picks up his words:] RF: That's what a *real* wrestler is about! [Faith then raises his fists to the crowd, who let him know in no uncertain terms what they think about him. Faith simply smirks, looking out at the crowd with his uncaring, piercing blue eyes, and then rolls from the ring and makes his way back up the aisle.] DD: It never rains but it pours for Madrock the Irrepressible here tonight, Billy Shakespeare. BS: And do I need to mention that we have had outside interference of some sort in *every* match here tonight? RCW needs better security, and pronto. DD: You may be right, Billy Shakespeare. I'm sure our President is watching this, just like we are, and he'll be keen to do something about it. Folks, we have to take a short break -- don't you go away, because the new RCW Champion, Johnny Pleasence, will be here when we come back! [As Nickrick tends to Madrock in the middle of the ring, fade to commercials.] [Fade back from commercials to a shot of the crowd, where there's some sort of commotion going on. The fans are on their feet, cheering as "the Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy walks amongst them.] DD: Welcome back to RCW RAMPAGE, everybody. As you rejoin us, it appears that Cassidy has found his way out amongst the fans now. BS: I wonder if security is still giving chase? [Cassidy is all smiles as he nods at the fans, gives a few high fives. You can tell he's just eating this all up.] DD: Well, as unorthodox as he is, Billy, we have to awknowledge that at least the fans love him. BS: Well, he's unique, Don. Sometimes that's all it takes. [Cassidy arrives at a section near ringside. He spots an empty seat amongst a group of young, college students.] LC: Hey, lads, this seat taken? [Liam plops himself down in the metal chair and high-fives the fans sitting next to him.] LC: All right then. I got me a bag of booze, and I'm looking for a few good men. [He opens up the duffel bag, pulls out some bottles and holds them up.] LC: Now how about it? [Cut back to Ditka, Shakespeare... and Danny Daniels at the broadcast table.] DD: Good grief. Well, folks, I'm, uh, delighted to report that "Your Hero" Danny Daniels is still with us out here. D'YH'D: It's your pleasure, Dirk. I had to safeguard my stocks of "YOUR HERO" t-shirts after Maddock thoughtlessly spilled them everywhere a bit earlier, so I thought I'd hang around. After all, you can never have too much of... ME! "Your Undefeatable Hero" Danny Daniels! DD: That's as maybe, but, folks, we are about to be joined by the new RCW Champion, Johnny Pleasence, who defeated Owen "Truth" Curtis for the belt two weeks ago on our last broadcast. And here he comes now! [The lights drop, as "Into the Night" by Billy Idol and Tony Iommi begins to play throughout the venue, causing the crowd to let loose with a torrent of boos...] # And you say you wanna live forever... # And you've got all the time to kill... # And you're living in the dark forever... # In your own little private hell... # Ow! # I wanna rule this world! # I wanna walk the night! # I wanna bleed this girl # Gonna take it all night 'til the morning light- # Ow, I wanna lead this world... # I wanna wake the dead... # And all the undead souls who walk the night # They can suck my... # [The lights go back up to full power as the song kicks in, with the RCW Champion himself -- Johnny Pleasence -- walking out from the back to a loud chorus of boos. Pleasence just smirks, idly smoking a Camel Turkish Gold as he walks down the aisle, laughing at fans or just shaking his head in disgust. Matilda Agutter creeps alongside him, laughing and sneering (which should be impossible, but she pulls it off anyway). Clad in black jeans and a black t-shirt, Pleasence takes a quick drag off his cigarette, as he leisurely makes his way to the ring.] # Are you sure you're so clean and pure? # As you lie here in front of me now... # And you're tempting the lord of darkness... # As you see what's forbidden to see... # Ow, I wanna rule this world! # I wanna walk the night... # I wanna bleed this girl # Gonna do it all night 'til the morning light... # I wanna rule this world! # I wanna wake the dead... # And to all the undead souls who walk the night # They can suck my... # Hey, yeah! # You know it's true! # Yeah, you! # Ha ha! # Play! # [And as the song turns into total Billy Idol goodness, Johnny Pleasence rolls into the ring and immediately climbs the second turnbuckle of the nearest corner and raises the RCW Championship belt into the air to a deafening amount of boos, while Matilda clumsily gets into the ring and does a shimmy and shake right out of Laugh-In. Pleasence shakes his head, hopping down to the mat and snagging a ring mic...] JP: My children... [Pleasence pauses, as the boos continue.] JP: I'll talk over you if I have to, but, I'd prefer it if you all shut your damn gobs! Bloody hell! [Pleasence begins to pace, agitated.] JP: I'm not asking you to like me -- Lord knows I don't want that, 'cuz I'm no sympathy seeker... I just need an audience that isn't a bunch of brainwashed sods! It's bad enough... [Pleasence shoots a glare at the announce table.] JP: ...it's bad enough you two ponces have the nerve to completely *undermine* my title reign... here's a bit of news, gentlemen. I made *history*... and to top it all off? I did it *my way*. Not yours. Not Spreadbury's. Not Curtis's, Driscoll's, or Coleman's, *Mine*... and guess what? I enjoyed every bloody minute of it. [Matilda squeals and the crowd boos, and the Big Bad shoots them a look.] JP: You will not *ever* see me come out here and bitch and moan about what might have been or what should have happened in this ring... I'll be damned if that ever happens. But what you will see is *complete* and *utter* domination from here on out... no matter how many corners I have to cut, no matter how many bodies fall at my feet, I... D'YH'D: Excuse me! [Danny Daniels stands up from the announcer's table, a cordless microphone in one hand, a pair of t-shirts in the other. He walks up the stairs into the ring and right up to the champion.] D'YH'D: Greetings and Salutations, Jimmy! You know me -- I'm "Your Hero"! Danny Daniels! A man so nice they named me twice! And I wanted to congratulate you -- and your attractive cohort -- on winning the title. JP: ...piss off. *Now*. Us grown-ups have something to say -- meaning, me. Not you. Go... fiddle with your twig and berries, kid. [Pleasence starts to walk away, but Daniels races in front of him.] D'YH'D: I'm not much of a plant person, Jason. But that's not why I'm here. As a matter of fact, I wanted to give both you and Melissa here a present, a reward for all of your hard work. [Matilda makes a face and leans into the Big Bad's mic.] MA: *Ma-til-da*, you wee little c... [Cutting her off before she can earn a fine, Danny unfolds one of the yellow "Your Hero" shirts and tosses it to Matilda, then unfolds the other and holds it for Johnny Pleasence to take. Matilda frowns and blows her nose with it, leaving the ring, while the Big Bad flings it right back at Daniels, shaking his head in an annoyed fashion.] JP: ...you lit'le git. Now that everyone's seen just how lame you are... D'YH'D: [sighing] No, no! Your English is *not* English! I realize that you're a foreigner, but here in America we WEAR these fine shirts. Like this! [Danny points to the "Your Hero" shirt that on his chest.] D'YH'D: Don't worry -- you can clean it up later. But that's not why I'm here... [Danny slaps Johnny good-naturedly on the shoulder, and Pleasence slaps him in the head in response, like one