[We open on a shot of an empty hallway in the Rose Garden's quiet executive offices, captioned "EARLIER TONIGHT". The floor is tiled in marble, and luxurious leather chairs and a polished oak table stand in a presentation area in the background. Soft lighting highlights a series of black and white photographic portraits along the walls, depicting the golden years of Portland wrestling -- a photo of the IIWF Coliseum, with a queue of fans stretching around the block; an image of two oriental athletes hanging from a scaffold high above the ring; an African-American star stood on the second turnbuckle, gloved hand raising a belt in the air in salute to a packed arena; a heavily built wrestler flipping off the crowd from the top turnbuckle with -- of all things -- a tricycle in his other hand. A loud ping breaks the silence -- and the grinding of elevator doors opening. The noise is swiftly followed by footsteps, quiet talk and laughter, and a rhythmic clicking sound, as of metal on stone. There's a brief roar from those in the capacity crowd who are quicker on the uptake -- and a soft female voice can be heard.] FEMALE VOICE: I just hope your flight wasn't too tiring -- as you can appreciate, it's been madness here the last few days since we heard you were coming. Mr Spreadbury told me to let him know just as soon as you arrived -- I'm sure he won't take too long. MALE VOICE: I'm sure, Miss..? FEMALE VOICE: Swanson. Jaime Swanson. [The owner of the female voice walks into shot -- a stunning blonde, smartly dressed in the uniform white and black of RCW's executive department. The President's tastes in personal assistants are as refined as his taste in decor. She's blushing furiously.] MALE VOICE: Jaime. That's a pretty name. No, everything's fine Miss Swanson. [The clicking noise has stopped, and the camera pans around slowly, focusing in on a figure that hasn't been seen in this part of the world in over seven years. Dressed in a stylish dark grey suit with silver silk tie and matching black overcoat, blonde hair pulled back tight into a short ponytail, clean-shaven and clear-eyed, carrying a brass-topped cane that became his signature oh-so-long ago, stands... the legend. A distant roar can be heard from the ringside crowd as the face of another IIWF great appears in RCW for the first time.] JS: It's a pleasure to welcome you to Portland again, Lord Byron. Do I call you Lord..? LB: Byron's fine, Miss Swanson. [Byron flashes the PA a brief smile, and turns to examine the portraits on the wall.] JS: Um... I was just wondering... if you could possibly...? [The doe-eyed PA holds out a pen, and a copy of an old IIWF programme, biting her bottom lip. Byron tugs off his leather gloves, smiling indulgingly, and quickly signs his name before handing the program back.] JS: I'll just... I'll call Mr Spreadbury's office. He'll want to know you're here. Please call if you need anything! [Byron pauses, watching the PA as she hurries off, a slight smile playing across his features.] LB: Oh, I'll be sure to let you know. [Byron turns back to the wall, frowns, and turns one of the portraits around to face the wall. No surprise that it's the picture of the gloved warrior. The laughter from the old school fans can be heard in the background. And then... 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 [...Ryan Faith stomps away on Mark Coleman... Coleman fells Faith with a big lariat... Coleman hotshots Faith on the top rope... Coleman goes for the early pin, but Faith kicks out... Faith drops Coleman with a dropkick to the knee, then a chop-block, then a leg grapevine... Faith drives his knee into Coleman's back... Coleman holds Faith up for a delayed vertical suplex... Coleman fells Faith with a drop toe-hold, and then drives his elbow into Faith's back...] # You've nothing to say # They're breaking away # If you listen to fools... # The mob rules # The mob rules [...Coleman is jumped by a large Japanese man, who hotshots him throat-first onto a steel chair in the ring... the Japanese man then applies a dragon sleeper on the felled Coleman...] # 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 [..."Supercat" Salvador Maeso hits a standing dropkick on Nolan Dorado... Maeso hits a springboard bulldog on the "Golden Boy"... Maeso hits Dorado with a jumping Mexican armdrag... Maeso does a standing backflip, landing with both feet driven into the prone Dorado's gut... Maeso launches himself off the top turnbuckle with a stunning corkscrew suicida onto Dorado... Dorado brings Maeso down into the ring with a superplex, then executes a stunning hanging brainbuster on the "Supercat"... But then Orin LeBlanc runs down to the ring...] # It's over, it's done # The end is begun # If you listen to fools... # The mob rules [...Kolya Sudakov whistles speculative Thai kicks past Vinny Carmazzi's face... Carmazzi hits Sudakov with a chickenwing suplex!... Carmazzi with three rolling wristlock armdrags... Sudakov backs Carmazzi into the corner and unleashes the Violence Party... Carmazzi counters with a Tornado DDT... Sudakov hits the High Left Kick on Carmazzi... but as Sudakov goes for the Pimp Slap, Carmazzi grabs the approaching fits and slaps on the Kimuri armbar again... Sudakov is forced to tap out...] # You've nothing to say # Oh, they're breaking away # If you listen to fools... [...Madrock fells Orin LeBlanc with a big clothesline... Madrock launches LeBlanc into the buckles with a tremendous giant swing... LeBlanc hits a Tiger suplex on Madrock... Madrock is jumped by Ryan Faith, who hits him with the Test of Faith...] # 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 [...Owen Curtis hits the Obituary on Brody Thunder onto the gold plate of an old championship belt... Curtis kicks a chair into Paul Driscoll's face... Curtis applies a ringpost figure four leglock on Driscoll... Driscoll powerbombs Curtis... Driscoll hits the Death Valley Driver on Curtis... Thunder storms down to the ring, his head bandaged and blood staining his shirt...] # 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 4 May 2006 [Cut to a wide shot of the interior of the Rose Garden. The camera pans over from a large RCW banner hanging from the rafters as fireworks erupt from the lighting rig above the ring, showers of sparks raining down on the blue canvas far below on the arena floor. The fans' cheers compete with the explosions of the pyro as the camera pans down over the upper sections. Over these images we hear the voice of RCW's lead announcer, Don Ditka.] DD: Welcome everybody to Portland, Oregon! Welcome everybody to the Rose Garden! Welcome everybody... to RCW RAMPAGE! [The camera pans down the aisle, as fans lean over the railings and wave their banners and signs -- "PLEASENCE FEARS DANIELS", "OGAWA'S NO HOT SHOT", "WELCOME BACK DEREK RAGE" -- and are decked out in their newly-bought RCW merchandise -- "YOUR HERO" t-shirts, Madrock bandanas, replica RCW championship belts, "GOLDEN BOY RULES" t-shirts -- and reaches ringside. Cut to the broadcast position at ringside, where, standing in front of the announce table, are Don Ditka, dressed as ever in his RCW sports jacket, and "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare, dressed in a smart shirt with the happy/sad masks of the theatre stitched onto the pocket.] DD: Howdy, folks, and welcome to the hottest hour of wrestling action -- not just on Thursday nights, but on any night you care to mention! I'm Don Ditka, and beside me, as always, is my broadcast colleague, Oregon's own "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare! BS: It promises to be another action-packed night here in the Garden, Don. DD: It certainly does. As you saw at the top of the hour, none other than Lord Byron is here tonight. We'll see the in-ring debuts of no fewer than *seven* new RCW superstars in our opening match tonight, the Debutants' Brawl Battle Royal. We'll see RCW Champion Johnny Pleasence make the first defence of his title in our main event, when he faces off against "Your Hero" Danny Daniels. That will be quite a match, Billy Shakespeare! BS: It sure will. And not least because we learned last week that Pleasence has forged something of an alliance with Ryan Faith. DD: Quite right. Who knows what implications that will have for tonight's championship match? And Ryan Faith himself will be in action against the man he jumped post-match two weeks ago and laid out with the Test of Faith, Madrock the Irrepressible. BS: I wonder whether Madrock is more worried about selling bandanas or winning matches, Don. DD: We'll find out tonight. And our show is rounded out by the number one contender to Johnny Pleasence, ornery Texan "Pistol" Paul Driscoll, putting that contendership on the line against submission specialist Vinny Carmazzi. BS: There's a lot of history going into that match, Don. It's sure to be a knock-down, drag-out affair. DD: That's for sure. Plus we'll get the latest on the legal wranglings between the office of the RCW President and Owen "Truth" Curtis. Will Curtis be here tonight to explain his actions in attacking "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder two weeks ago on our last RAMPAGE? Or will Curtis's lawyer manage to weasel "The Truth" out of giving us the truth here tonight? BS: Careful, Don. That lawyer of Curtis's is a pitbull. DD: I understand that we'll be hearing from the aforementioned lawyer, Charlton J. Chesapeake, later on tonight. It's certainly going to be an action-packed hour. And we're kicking it off with a special announcement from RCW President Daniel Spreadbury and his special guest here tonight, Lord Byron. Let's hope tonight's appearance doesn't turn as sour as last week's. [Cut to the ring, where RCW President Daniel Spreadbury now stands, dressed as ever in a sharp suit. He brings the microphone to his lips.] DS: Good evening, Portland! [Big pop from the crowd!] DS: Since the inception of RCW a few short months ago, I have tried to combine the illustrious history of wrestling in this great city with a new generation of superstars and talent -- not to forget where we have come from, but to celebrate it, and to have the memories and achievements of the past lead us on to even greater heights in the future. [The President pauses, allowing the anticipation of the crowd to build as they await the introduction they know is to follow.] DS: So as President of Rip City Wrestling, it is my pleasure to reintroduce to you a long-standing friend and colleague of mine, making his first appearance in an American wrestling arena since the closure of the IIWF eight years ago: please put your hands together in a warm Portland welcome for the illustrious... the legendary... LORD BYRON! [The crowd goes wild as the lights in the arena dim, a succession of floodlights lighting up the aisle, and "Intermezzo" from Karelia Suite by Sibelius plays out over the loudspeakers for the first time in what seems like eons. Camera flashes from the crowd and the press photographers at ringside light up the arena as the curtain at the top of the aisle twitches aside...] DD: It's him! It's him! Another coup for the RCW President! First Brody Thunder two weeks ago, now the man once proclaimed as the best technical wrestler in the world, Lord Byron! BS: Let's just hope that there's no unwelcome interruption this time, Don. [The long-time Portland wrestling fans and the new generation of followers unite in the cheers as the suave, suited figure of Lord Byron strides confidently into the Rose Garden. Dressed as earlier as a man on business -- the thousand dollar suit, long black overcoat, silver tie and shades -- he cuts a striking figure as he pauses at the top of the aisle, adjusting his tie and turning his signature brass-topped cane over in his hands. Byron regards the near-capacity crowd, a faint smile playing across his lips as he savors the welcome of the fans.] DD: Say what you like about the man -- and plenty have, over the years -- everyone knows the ability Byron possessed in the ring, and the impact he had right here in Portland all those long years ago. These fans respect that, Billy Shakespeare -- and they sure remember it as well! BS: The aristocrat certainly knows how to make an entrance... and this one is giving me goosebumps. [The strobe-like flashes from the assembled press photographers' cameras reflect back off the shades covering Byron's eyes as he strides up the aisle, his cane clicking on the ramp. He quickly ascends the ringsteps and slips through the ropes, joining the President in the center of the ring. The President greets the blue-blood with a warm smile and handshake, and hands Byron a cordless microphone. Byron turns slowly in the center of the ring, surveying the crowd. He raises the microphone... and pauses.] DD: Listen to the ovation from this capacity crowd, Billy Shakespeare! His lordship is stunned! [Byron *is* stunned. He lowers the microphone as the crowd chants his name, and reaches up, swiping off his shades. The feed cuts to different sections of the ringside crowd... ...a section of fans right at ringside, bowing down, arms out, chanting "We're not worthy!"... ...a group of female fans being held back by security, waving a poster reading "Byron's Babes" in the air... ...another group of fans raising and waving a banner emblazoned with the legend - "IIWF - RCW - Portland thanks the Legend"... ...and switches back to Byron, who is shaking his head in amazement. He points out to the crowd, and raises the microphone once more...] LB: It's been a long time, Portland. Too long. [The crowd *roars*. Deafeningly. Byron pauses again, another smile flashing across his features as he motions for the crowd to settle down... and they quieten immediately, hanging on his words.] LB: It's a pleasure to be here, at the request of my colleague and friend Mr. Daniel Spreadbury, to once again address the finest wrestling fans in the world. In my career I've visited arenas in all four corners of the world -- I've wrestled in Tokyo, in Paris, in a thousand different arenas in front of a million people -- but if anywhere deserves to be called the one true home of professional wrestling... it has to be right here, where it all began. Portland, Oregon: Lord Byron salutes you. [The crowd goes wild as Byron bows back to the fans, and Byron pauses as the cheers and the chants ring out around the arena again.] LB: Which it why it is such a pleasure to announce that on Sunday, July 16th, the first RCW World Heavyweight Champion Johnny Pleasence... [The first jeers since Byron entered the arena ring out briefly through the crowd.] LB: ...will defend his title against the number one contender... to be determined right here tonight! [The crowd roars its approval once more.] LB: And that match will take place at the first ever RCW pay-per-view event... DD: Here it comes... LB: RCW Wild Summer Night... [Byron pauses, the crowd quieting as they hear the name of the event... and await the name and place of the venue..] LB: At the Rose Garden Arena... right here, right back where it all began... in PORTLAND, OREGON! [The crowd goes ballistic. The noise in the arena is deafening as the crowd realizes that all eyes in the world of professional wrestling are going to be focused right back on the city of Portland for the first time since the first of August 1998 -- one of the most memorable and saddening dates in wrestling history.] DD: Unbelievable, Billy Shakespeare -- and what a tribute to the Portland crowd by Mr. Spreadbury! The first ever RCW pay-per-view event is to emanate from right here, the Rose Garden -- and the whole world will be watching! BS: No doubt, Don. Our President could have picked any arena in the United States of America -- Madison Square Gardens, the Cow Palace, the Fleet Center -- every single arena wanted to be the one to host the first RCW pay-per-view event... but the President has decided to focus the cameras of the world right here in the Rose Garden. [Back in the ring, the President and Lord Byron are shaking hands again in front of the wildly snapping press photographers. The President points to Byron once more who raises the microphone a final time.] LB: Portland, the world of professional wrestling thanks you -- and I thank you. Sunday, July 16th... RCW Wild Summer Night... wrestling comes home. ["Intermezzo" from Karelia Suite rings out over the public address system once more, as both he President and Lord Byron exit the ring, Byron raising his hand once more in a final salute to the crowd as he makes his way backstage. Fade to commercials.] [Fade back to a shot of the announce table, where Ditka and Shakespeare sit with their headsets on.] DD: Welcome back to RAMPAGE, folks. The crowd here is still buzzing about the blockbuster announcements we've just heard concerning RCW's first ever Pay-Per-View, Wild Summer Night, coming your way Sunday, July 16th, from right here in the Garden. Now, later tonight we're expecting to hear from Owen Curtis, live and in living colour, as he explains his actions of two weeks ago, when he brutally attacked Brody Thunder. There have been, shall we say, legal complications as a result of Curtis's 28-day suspension -- and we're now going to hear from Curtis's attorney, Charlton J. Chesapeake. [Cut to footage captioned "EARLIER TODAY." A large number of leather-bound law books line the shelves behind a nicely-finished pine desk... with a mustachioed figure in a suit seated in the chair, complete with a top hat incongruously, for a lawyer, perched on his head.] CHARLTON J. CHESAPEAKE: Hello. I am Charlton J. Chesapeake, Esquire, specialist in entertainment and media law, representing professional wrestler Owen James Curtis and photographer Edward Eugene Curtis in their dispute against Daniel Spreadbury and unnamed investors doing business as Rip City Wrestling. Today, I am pleased to announce that my clients, Owen and Edward, have reached a settlement with RCW. Under the terms of this settlement it is acknowledged that Edward has done nothing wrong and his media privileges are fully reinstated effective immediately. In exchange we have conceded that the suspension of Owen James Curtis shall remain in effect for his actions on the last episode of RAMPAGE... BUT... Owen shall have the responsibility AND right to perform other duties during AND AFTER the remainder of his 28 day suspension. Those duties shall be revealed by both parties when the time is appropriate. [He smirks.] CJC: That is all. The law practice of Charlton J. Chesapeake, Esquire, wishes you all a very good day. [He pauses, then adds ... ] CJC: Put THAT one under your hat! [Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: So will we get the opportunity to hear from Owen Curtis in person here later on tonight? That didn't clear up anything at all! It's just about time for our first match -- but before we go up to the ring, let's go backstage to Jamie Bond, who is standing with Mick Silvestri, manager of debutant Nathan Herod. Jamie? [Cut to Mick Silvestri, standing in front of a locker room door with RCW backstage interviewer Jamie Bond, a microphone in hand.] JB: Mr. Silvestri, I understand you have some comments for our viewers here tonight, ahead of the Debutants' Brawl? MS: [softly] Are... you... ready? Ready to get a glimpse of the young man who will shake the foundations of RCW with the most dominating debut in wrestling history? [He flashes a bright grin at the camera.] MS: Are you... ready? Ready to see Nathan Herod dismantle not one, not two, not three... but *six* other competitors in the Debutants' Brawl to shoot up the rankings like a rocket? [Silvestri holds his breath for a moment, then shouts:] MS: ARE YOU READY FOR NATHAN HEROD?! [Silvestri opens the locker room door with a flourish and moves the side. After a moment, Nathan Herod emerges. A thug of a man, Herod is thick and powerful looking. His torso, arms and especially his legs and neck are wide, thick and strong. He isn't especially ripped, just big. He is wearing full-length urban camo pants and a matching tank top. The big man squints at the camera, then glances at Silvestri to the side.] NH: [in thick Southern accent] What's a' this, Mister Silvestri? MS: It's the crowd, the audience, your _fans_, Nate. We talked about this. You should say some words before you go out there hit them like an earthquake hits Tokyo! [Herod cocks his head to the side and stares for a moment, then scratches his cleanly shaven cheeks and turns back to the camera.] NH: Huh? Ah thought ah's supposed t'fight ton'ght, Mister Silvestri. [He makes a throwaway gesture at the camera.] NH: I don't wanna make no speech here. MS: It is important that you ... [Nathan looks down the floor and just walks off. Silvestri's jaw almost drops to the floor as you can almost see the wheels coming to a screeching stop in his brain. He _jumps_ in front of the camera.] MS: He... he has taken in the scent of his prey. Yes, that is what it is. Nothing will deter him from his course now... his course of destruction! Now shut it off! [Silvestri hurries after his charge as Jamie Bond turns and looks to the camera. We cut back to the announce table.] DD: So, Nathan Herod, a man of few words. BS: Unlike his manager, Don. DD: Enough talk, folks -- it's time for seven new superstars to begin making their names here in RCW. It's time for the Debutants' Brawl! Wait a minute... what's this?! [The screen suddenly fuzzes and white noise is all that can be heard for a couple of moments. Suddenly, the following text scrolls across the screen, echoed by a stern voice-over:] "THE FOLLOWING IS PAID FOR BY CHRISTIAN RIGHT. WRESTLING IS AN ABOMINATION AND A SIN AGAINST THE FATHER, THE SON, AND THE HOLY GHOST. NOW CHRISTIAN RIGHT IS HERE TO SAY A FEW WORDS." [The scene changes to Christian Right standing on top of a hill overlooking the Rose Garden, light shining from him, and it is a beautiful sunny day.] CR: Hello all, may you serve the Lord. And may his eternal glory light up your miserable and dismal lives. You see, you're all heathens! You cheer men on while they destroy each other! Blood pouring out of the bodies of men. We should help our brothers, not raise hands against them. God does not want us to hurt each other, he wants us to live in an everlasting peace! The world of professional wrestling is ruining the country, the planet, and the entire human race! So please, all you heathens at home, there is still hope. Stop watching this sinful sport. Pick up your remote control right now and change the channel. I have a suggestion for you. [Cut to a church.] CR: Channel 25 is holding an all-day telethon in order to raise money for a new foundation for the church. You can watch the great story of The Rapture and how everyone who is good will ascend to heaven, and how all the wicked, that is, the wrestling fans, will all stay here and have to fight hell and back all alone without the comfort of the lord. [Cut to Christian sitting on a stool against a blue background, light still shining from him.] CR: Or if you're not in the mood for that, there is an excellent documentary on the Discovery Channel on the monitor lizard. Let's enrich our lives with knowledge and good clean family values, then waste our minds and corrupt our bodies with this blood sport. [He takes out a Bible.] CR: And of course, you can always, always go back to the thing we all need most. The Holy Bible. If you need help in weaning yourself from the wrestling, please take comfort and cherish your nearest Holy Bible, it might just help you change your life. [The scene changes to a bunch of people picketing outside the Rose Garden, holding signs that say things like, "WRESTLING IS AN ABOMINATION", "GOD DOES NOT WANT US TO HURT EACH OTHER", "RCW IS GOING TO HELL".] CR: I hope my words helped you. And hopefully, they will save you from an eternity of fire -- for, you see, if you continue with the watching of the wrestling, that's where you will end up. Cradled in the arms of Satan, eternal fire, torture. You'll languish over what could have been, if you gave up wrestling. RCW, I'm not gonna join these picketers, they've got it all wrong. The only way to destroy something is to take it apart from within. Starting tonight, I will destroy the morale of wrestling, I will take it apart, brick from brick, like the carpenter, starting tonight. Thank you, and have a nice day, and remember, WRESTLING IS A SIN! [Once again big red letters scroll across the screen, again accompanied by a stern voice-over:] "THIS MESSAGE WAS PAID FOR BY CHRISTIAN RIGHT. WRESTLING IS AN ABOMINATION AND A SIN AGAINST THE FATHER, THE SON, AND THE HOLY GHOST. CHRISTIAN RIGHT IS COMING TO RCW IN ORDER TO PURGE YOU ALL OF SIN. THANK YOU AND HAVE A NICE DAY." [Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside. They look at each other for a moment.] DD: ...Well, I don't even know where to begin with *that*. Let's get up to the ring! ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / DEBUTANTS' BRAWL BATTLE ROYAL /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [The fans cheer as Sy Simmons brings the microphone to his lips.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for tonight's opening match, and it is the DEBUTANTS' BRAWL BATTLE ROYAL! [Big over-the-top-rope pop!] SS: The rules of the battle royal are simple: the match will begin when all seven wrestlers have entered the ring, and will continue until six have been eliminated! The only way to be eliminated is to be thrown over the top rope, with both feet touching the arena floor. [Big thanks-for-reminding-us-of-the-rules pop!] SS: And now, introducing the first of tonight's debutants... ["Ride Or Die!" by Doomriders booms out over the PA system as the crowd jeers.] SS: ...accompanied to the ring by Zeke Brackett, hailing from Kumamoto, Japan, and weighing in at 266lbs... here is AKITOOOOSHI OGAAAAAAAWA! [The arena lights drop and strobe lights begin to slowly pulse. Ogawa paces to the ring slowly, rubbing his hands and glancing into the crowd. Zeke Brackett follows close behind, hurling insults at the crowd and shouting motivations at Akitoshi in his native tongue.] DD: Here comes the former King of the Death Match, Billy Shakespeare. We first saw Ogawa two weeks ago, when he came from the crowd to brutally attack Mark Coleman. BS: Ogawa's a very dangerous individual. He *enjoys* hurting people, and he carries enough scars to show that he's not afraid of getting hurt himself. [Ogawa slides underneath the ropes and stands tall in the center of the ring, turning slowly to all four sides, shooting cold stares to the crowd.] DD: We've seen what this man can do when he's jumping somebody from behind. I'll be very interested indeed to see what he can do when he's facing six men, face to face. ["Ride or Die!" fades as Simmons brings the microphone to his mouth again:] SS: Introducing next... # Look.. if you had.. one shot, or one opportunity # To seize everything you ever wanted.. in one moment # Would you capture it.. or just let it slip? Yo.. [The lights dim as laser lights begin to play around the roof of the arena for a five count. Suddenly, a pair of white pyro bursts, set in time with the bass drum, light up the entry way as the beat of "Lose Yourself" by Eminem kicks in. As the audience's eyes adjust to the light level again, they see "Showtime" Rick Marley making his way to the ring. The fair-skinned light heavyweight has his long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and wears a midnight blue set of long legged trunks with the word "Showtime" stitched across the butt. White spotlights trail up from his black boots and cascade up the pant legs.] SS: ...hailing from Allentown, Pennsylvania, and weighing in at 215lbs... here is... "SHOOOOOOOWTIIIIIME" RIIIIIIIICK MAAAAAARLEY! [Marley slaps hands with the fans at ringside until he is about 15 feet from the ring, at which point he sprints the distance, sliding under the bottom rope, striding across the squared circle to climb to the second rope in front of the announcer's table, where he raises both hands to the crowd.] DD: We've heard great things about this young cruiserweight, Billy Shakespeare! BS: We have indeed. He's been a firm fan favourite wherever he's wrestled. But I have to say, Don, that high-flyers are often at a disadvantage in battle royals: it's all too easy to get thrown out of the ring when you're pinging around the ring like a pinball. ["Lose Yourself" fades, and is replaced by "This Man" by Jeremy Camp as Simmons once again brings the microphone to his lips.] SS: Coming to the ring... hailing from Greenville, South Carolina, and weighing in at 231lbs... here is CHRRRRRRRIIIIISTIAN RIIIIIIIIIGHT! [Christian Right walks to the ring slowly and makes sure to yell at any rowdy fans. He clutches his Holy Bible to him at all times.] DD: Well, Billy Shakespeare, this is a unique individual. He promises to destroy wrestling from within. BS: There were a few guys I wrestled in my career that, looking back, I wonder if that's what *they* were trying to do, Don. DD: Christian Right is certainly a man of faith. Look at him now! [Christian Right has reached the ring, and hands his bible to a ring attendant, then disrobes to his ring attire of short black tights emblazoned with the cross. He then does his prayer and signs himself with the cross before entering the ring, looking across the ring at Marley and Ogawa. A familiar jaunty guitar and piano riff rings out over the PA.] SS: And now, accompanied to the ring by Mick Silvestri, hailing from the Herod Estate in Alabama, weighing in at 220lbs... here is NAAAAAAAAATHHHAAN HEEEERRRRRRROD! # Sweet home Alabama # Where the skies are so blue # Sweet home Alabama # Lord, I'm coming home to you [As Lyrnyrd Skynyrd's most famous song hits its chorus, Silvestri's new client steps into the aisle. He has a thuggish look to him, with thick limbs, a powerful torso and a wide neck. His hair is buzz-cut, marine style. Nathan wears full length urban camo pants and a matching tank top to the ring. The ring attire is completed by black boots and heavily taped hands. Despite his impressive, if not overly ripped, physique, Herod seems rather nervous. Sweat is running down his face and his cheeks are blushed bright red.] DD: And here comes the highly-touted rookie managed by Mick Silvestri. But I have to say, Billy Shakespeare, he doesn't look well. BS: The Rose Garden can be intimidating for a rookie, Don. [As the song continues, Herod walks down to ringside very slowly, his gaze wandering all over the arena with a wide-eyed look. Silvestri has to wave him into the ring to get him to enter.] SS: Introducing next... ["Back To Earth" by Ozzy Osbourne kicks in over the PA.] SS: ...hailing from Corry, Pennsylvania, and weighing in at 289lbs... here is... "THE FAAAALLLLLEN AAAAAAANGEL" DAAAAAAAAAAVID CRRRROOOOOOSS! [As the song's lyrics actaully start, David Cross comes out to the entranceway.] # I have fallen from grace and my ashes are scattered # No longer of passion and flesh # My flame is alive though my wings have been shattered # They laid my body to rest [Cross walks down the aisle, focused on the ring. He absent-mindedly slaps a few hands, but his mind is on the men in front of him only.] DD: Here comes the second-largest man in this match, Billy Shakespeare. Standing at 6'7" and weighing in at close to three hundred pounds, David Cross will be one to watch here. BS: Big men can also be at a disadvantage in a battle royal, Don. How many times have we seen big men set upon by a lynch mob in an effort to eliminate them early? [Cross gets in the ring, removes his leather jacket and cross, and hands them to the ring attendant. David goes to one of the turnbuckles and sits back on it, looking across the squared circle at the four men already in the ring.] DD: This ring is filling up quickly, Billy Shakespeare. Just two more men to make their appearances, and arguably they're the most famous of them all... [The opening notes to Nine Inch Nails' cover of "Physical" begin to fill the arena.] SS: Introducing next... accompanied to the ring by Glory... hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada, and weighing in at 220lbs... DAAAAAAAAAVE BRRRRYYYYYAAANNT! [The lights dim, and a spotlight falls on the entrance. From the curtain emerges a lovely little blonde, clad in a royal blue gown slit quite far up the thigh, and cut way low in the neck. She takes a few steps into the aisle before turning, smiling coquettishly, and pointing at the curtain.] # I wanna take you baby... # I wanna take you out... # I wanna wine and dine you... # Oh I wanna twist and twist and shout... # [With that, a man emerges from the curtain... clad in a royal blue robe, complete with a hood over his head. He stands in front of the girl, a smirk just visible beneath the shadow of the hood. She smirks back, before reaching up and pushing the hood back with a flourish, revealing unto the world... Dave Bryant.] # I want you hot in my arms... # So soft on my bed... # You get the key to my heart... # Oh when you wear that sweet dress... # [The crowd despises him on sight, and lets him know, showering the former "Doctor of Love" with a resounding heel pop. He looks around briefly, chuckles, then motions Glory on ahead. She turns, sauntering down the aisle, and slowly stepping up the ringsteps to the apron, where she parts the ropes for Dave, her gown "slipping" down to reveal most of a well-formed leg.] DD: Well, folks, it didn't take long for the crowd here in the Garden to decide what they think of Dave Bryant. Bryant has had a long and storied career, and he's held a number of prestigious championships over the years. BS: For the past few years, though, Bryant has been running a bar, not running the ropes -- how far off the pace will he be here tonight? DD: I'd be willing to bet that if Dave Bryant has decided to come back to the ring, he's come back in match-winning shape. We'll soon find out! # But you're too physical, physical to me... # [Bryant makes his way down the aisle, climbing up to the ring apron, sliding one hand up Glory's thigh briefly before stepping between the ropes, walking to the center of the ring and stopping, arms outstretched as he enjoys the "adoration" of the fans.] # You're just too physical, physical, no to me... # [Glory slips all the way into the ring, sidling up behind Bryant and sliding her hands around to the belt of his robe, undoing the knot, then stepping in front of him to slide said robe off. Glory makes her way out of the ring, handing the robe off to a nearby attendant and telling him in no uncertain terms to keep it whole, or his life is forefeit. Bryant himself, clad in his usual royal blue shorts, walks to the middle of the ring, looking around and grinning at his five opponents as the lights come up, and the music fades.] SS: And finally... [The houselights go down and the hard beat of Public Enemy's "Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos" blares over the PA system. Big pop!] SS: ...accompanied to the ring by Pizzazz, hailing from Halifax, Nova Scotia, and weighing in at 325lbs... he is... DEEEEERRRRRRREEEEEEK RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGE! [The crowd is on its feet! First comes Pizzazz, the 6' model/wrestler. She strolls down the aisle then pauses, smiling at the crowd and flirting with her green eyes.] DD: Wow, she still looks great, doesn't she, Billy Shakespeare? BS: She doesn't look like she's aged a day in eight years. DD: Just wait until Derek Rage steps through those curtains. These fans here in Portland remember Derek and his brother Shadoe, the phenomenal Prophets of Rage, as among the greatest tag team champions of all time. [Then Derek Rage emerges, cloaked in a boxer's robe, the hood over his head. Together the pair walk to the ring, fans on both sides of the aisle reaching out to touch him.] DD: Just look at the size of this man, Billy Shakespeare! He's over seven feet tall, and he's lean, mean and, by the looks of things, in excellent condition. BS: Derek Rage *is* one of the greatest tag team wrestlers of his generation, Don, no doubt about it. But how good is he on his own? DD: We'll soon find out. Derek is the last man down to the ring -- business is about to pick up! [Rage steps over the top rope as Pizzazz alights between them. He takes to the centre of the ring, staring down the aisle as Pizzazz removes his robe. His expression is always focused. The other six men in the ring stand and watch Rage's pre-match ritual. As Public Enemy fades from the PA, officials Jim Bright and Pat Nickrick take up their positions at ringside.] DD: Well, folks, we're just about ready to begin here... * DING! DING! DING! * [The crowd is hushed for a moment, looking on at the ring, where six men are ranged near the ropes, looking to the giant Derek Rage in the center of the ring... and then Rick Marley charges at Rage! Big pop! Rage swats Marley away with a single strike. Big pop! Then in charges Dave Bryant, and again Rage knocks him down with a clothesline! In comes Christian Right, who is swiped from the air and planted with a spinebuster! Huge pop!] DD: Oh my! These men are coming at Derek Rage -- they know he's the man to beat in this battle royal! [In charges Akitoshi Ogawa, and Rage knocks him back with a clothesline... and in charges David Cross, who takes a blow but does not go down! Big pop from the crowd!] DD: Derek Rage cleaning house -- but it looks like he's met his match in David Cross! [As the crowd cheers, Rage and Cross lock up in the middle of the ring -- and the other men in the ring take it as their cue to start fighting each other, Marley taking chops from Ogawa and Christian Right stomping away on Nathan Herod, while Dave Bryant simply smirks and finds his way to one corner of the ring. The crowd cheer along as six men beat on each other!] BS: Notice how Dave Bryant is immediately trying to keep himself out of trouble here, keeping an eye on the men around him, Don. DD: It's a smart move, Billy Shakespeare. There are a lot of bodies flying around in there! [David Cross drives Rage back with a series of soupbone uppercuts, then sends him for the ride. The other men scatter as the seven foot Rage comes back off the ropes, and Cross grabs Rage by the throat, apparently going for the chokeslam! Big pop! Rage frees himself with a well-placed elbow, then grabs Cross around the waist and unleashes an impressive belly-to-belly release suplex! Big pop as Rage backs away into one corner of the ring.] DD: What an exchange between David Cross and Derek Rage, Billy Shakespeare, these two giants of the squared circle! [Marley hits Christian Right with a neckbreaker, taking the Greenville native down to the mat... Ogawa hits Cross with a spinebuster off the ropes... Rage hits Herod with a hard chop from his corner, Herod begging off...] DD: Notice how unsure of himself Nathan Herod looks in there. BS: He's got big game nerves, Don. DD: He doesn't look to be the monster that Mick Silvestri has built him up to be. [Marley applies an old-school figure four leglock on Christian Right, and Ogawa drops his leg across Right's throat! Big heel pop as Cross stomps away on Marley, forcing him to break the hold. Derek Rage retreats to the opposite corner from Dave Bryant, the two veterans staring at each other across the ring.] BS: Great tactics from Rage ad Bryant here, keeping themselves out of trouble and allowing the other men in the match to wear each other down. DD: Nathan Herod is going to try and draw Rage into this match... [Herod approaches Rage again, and Rage ducks his upper body between the first and second ropes, wagging his finger at the rookie from Alabama, who backs off... right into a dropkick to the back of the head from Rick Marley!] DD: That didn't work out too well for Nathan Herod, Derek Rage managing to intimidate the rookie out of attacking him! [David Cross charges in towards Dave Bryant, who ducks out of the way, and Cross goes shoulder-first between the buckles, hitting the ringpost hard with his shoulder. Bryant yanks him back into the ring, then knocks him back to the mat with a hard uppercut forearm. Cross is immediately pounced upon by Right, who drops an elbow on the big man's throat.] DD: "The Fallen Angel" attacked by Christian Right! BS: Very ecclesiastical, Don. [Ogawa goes for a vertical suplex on Marley... but Marley shifts his weight and tucks his head, catching Ogawa's head on the way down and driving it into the mat with an inverted DDT! Big pop!] DD: Marley calls that the Rewrite! And Ogawa's skull just bounced off that canvas, Billy Shakespeare! BS: Ogawa's so battle-worn, he may not even have felt it, Don! [Indeed, Ogawa is quickly back to his feet, grabbing hold of Marley and sending him to the ropes. On the rebound, he lifts him high, high up for a flapjack facebuster... but on his way down, Marley wraps his legs around Ogawa's neck and nails him with a high-impact hurricanrana! Big pop!] BS: Beautiful hurricanrana from Rick Marley! Ogawa is reeling! [Suddenly there is a big pop as a figure emerges into the aisle.] DD: Hang on -- somebody's coming out here! [The camera cuts to Mark Coleman standing in the aisle, arms crossed, watching the match. He's wearing blue jeans, an orange University of Tennessee t-shirt, and is sporting a faded bruise around his neck.] DD: Three guesses why Mark Coleman is out here tonight, Billy Shakespeare. BS: You can see he's still bearing the mark of Ogawa's attack on him two weeks ago -- what a brutal attack that was. DD: Coleman isn't coming any closer to the ring -- but I doubt that RCW's new security team are going to take any chances. [Indeed, Coleman is immediately approached by a pair of blue-shirted security staffers. Coleman raises his hands and a camera picks him up, saying "I'm just watchin', guys." The security guards seem satisfied with this, but take up positions directly behind him. Meanwhile, in the ring, Ogawa is whipped into the corner by Christian Right, who is attacked and whipped into the opposite corner by Nathan Herod. On the rebound, Herod lifts Right with a monkey flip. Ogawa catches Right in mid-air and plants him with a huge sit-out powerbomb. Big pop!] DD: Oh my! What *impact* from Akitoshi Ogawa! This Japanese monster is absolutely on fire out here tonight. [Herod is suddenly pounded on the back by Rick Marley. Herod turns around, and os met by a stunning standing dropkick from the Allentown native! Herod is staggered... and then knocked to the mat when Marley comes off the ropes and hits a flying forearm! Big pop!] DD: Big-time forearm from Rick Marley, and Mick Silvestri's monster is down again! [Dave Bryant is still keeping his own counsel in one corner of the ring while Derek Rage slugs it out with David Cross. Rage hits Cross with a Yakuza kick, felling "The Fallen Angel"! Big pop! Meanwhile, Christian Right gets back to his feet and blocks a big forearm from Ogawa, jamming a thumb in the Japanese wrestler's eye, staggering him, then sending him to the ropes with an Irish whip... and then hitting him with a sidewalk slam on the rebound! Mixed pop!] DD: Christian Right showing some impressive power here, slamming Ogawa to the mat! BS: It's still chaos in there, Don! [Nathan Herod is back on his feet and traps the arms of the charging Marley, suddenly unloading on him with a furious volley of headbutts! Big heel pop as Marley staggers backwards, and is then nearly beheaded by a clothesline from the Alabama man!] DD: Wow -- Nathan Herod has just come alive in there, Billy Shakespeare! BS: And that could be mad news for Rick Marley. Herod has looked very much like the green rookie that he is thus far -- but we may have just seen evidence of the mean streak Mick Silvestri assures us that he has. [Herod drops a knee on Marley's groin, drawing a sympathetic pop from the crowd, and then proceeds to stomp away on the prone form of Marley, who is forced to cover up. Herod is stopped by David Cross, who gets a kneelift for his trouble, staggering the big man! Herod turns his attention back to the rising Marley... and cinches him in for a fisherman's suplex...] DD: ...AND DOWN! HDD! HDD! [HDD is the Herod Dynasty Devastator, and it's a fisherman suplex-cum-DDT that has laid out Rick Marley in the center of the ring. Herod stands above him, wild-eyed... and then drops on top of Marley, clawing at his face! Big heel pop!] DD: Nathan Herod is like an animal in there! Marley's helpless! [As Herod comes away from Marley, we can see that the cruiserweight has been busted open, perhaps by the HDD, perhaps by the subsequent assault at Herod's hands. Marley rolls onto his side, and finds himself picked up by the big Alabama man. Herod sends Marley to the ropes, then on the rebound... presses him high above his head! Huge mixed pop from the crowd!] DD: Good god! Nathan Herod is pressing Rick Marley above his head as if he doesn't weigh a thing, and... NO! [A huge "HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!" chant breaks out as Herod walks over to the side of the ring and drops Marley down to the arena floor, cameras flashing all over the Garden!] DD: Rick Marley has been eliminated -- good god, Billy Shakespeare. What power from Nathan Herod! BS: He's not refined, he's not experienced... but he is dangerous, Don. [Herod turns back to the ring, wild-eyed, looking down at the blood on his hands. On the outside, Silvestri bends over the prone form of Rick Marley, taunting the bloodied cruiserweight. In the ring, Herod walks right into a punch to the throat from Ogawa, spins him around, applies a full nelson... and then sweeps his legs out, plunging forwards, driving Herod face-first to the mat! Big heel pop!] DD: SHUNJI STREET SWEEPER! Herod has to be out! [Ogawa drags the stunned Herod to his feet and moves to the ropes. Suddenly, Dave Bryant darts out of the corner and helps Ogawa lift Herod up... up... and over the ropes! Herod's feet hit the floor!] DD: Nathan Herod has been eliminated -- and after that full nelson facebuster, I can't say I'm surprised! [Ogawa, standing near the ropes, turns towards Bryant... and is hit square in the jaw by a superkick from the Las Vegas native, sending him tumbling over the ropes and to the outside! Big pop!] DD: Just like that, Ogawa is out of there at the hands of Dave Bryant! And we are down to four men! [On the outside, Zeke Brackett is incensed, and Ogawa's stoic features betray... is it shock? Official Jim Bright ushers the two men away from ringside and up the aisle. As Ogawa and Brackett pass Coleman in the aisle, the camera picks up the Tennessee rookie's words:] MC: Wonderin' how tough you are when you ain't attackin' from behind. [Brackett visibly bristles at this jibe, and immediately barks something in Japanese at his charge, who launches himself at Coleman. The two security guards who had been standing by Coleman immediately move in to prevent the two men getting their hands on each other, and drag the furious Ogawa away up the aisle, an irate Brackett going in his wake, shouting threats and insults at Coleman.] DD: Nothing has been settled between those two men, Billy Shakespeare! BS: Coleman will be looking for revenge, Don. You don't send a wrestler to the hospital without expecting a bit of payback -- but Coleman's wise not to get physically involved until he's fully recovered. [Mark Coleman follows Ogawa and Brackett towards backstage, the two security guards still conspiring to keep them apart. Back in the ring, David Cross and Christian Right are slugging it out. Cross sends Right for the ride, backdropping him on the return with tremendous elevation. Right pops up, and is immediately met by a lariat from the big man, drawing a pop from the crowd! While Bryant and Rage look on from their respective corners, Cross signals to both of his other opponents with a thumb drawn across his throat.] DD: Uh-oh -- David Cross looks like he's about to put on a little display for us here. This could be bad news for Christian Right! [Cross drags Christian Right to his feet, hits him with a boot to the midsection, and then places Right's head between his legs. He hoists him up with a gutwrench... and then brings him down hard with a vicious sit-out powerbomb!] DD: ASHES TO ASHES! Cross hits Christian Right with the Ashes to Ashes! That could be all she wrote! BS: It's a long way down from any powerbomb, but when you're coming down from head-height of a 6'7" man mountain... it's a really long way down! [While Bryant and Rage still look on impassively, Cross drags Right back to his feet, and whips him into one of the two unoccupied corner of the ring, Right's back and head hitting the buckles hard! Cross follows him in with a splash, drawing a big pop from the crowd! Cross hoists Christian Right up and sits him on the top turnbuckle. The crowd buzzes in anticipation!] DD: Oh boy -- "The Fallen Angel" is about to show us a superplex! No -- wait a moment! [Suddenly, Derek Rage springs out of his corner of the ring, and as Cross climbs to the second turnbuckle, the seven-foot tall Nova Scotian climbs up behind Cross... and tosses both men to the outside! Huge pop!] DD: Derek Rage has just eliminated both David Cross *and* Christian Right! BS: Cross seemed determined to demonstrate his power to Bryant and Rage, he took a risk, and now he's paying for it! [On the outside, Christian Right is helped to his feet by Pat Nickrick, while Cross thumps the apron in frustration, before being ushered away from the ring by Jim Bright. Rage turns into the ring and looks to Dave Bryant, who is still leaning against the turnbuckles in his corner of the ring, a smile playing across his face. The fans cheer as they anticipate the collision of Bryant and Rage in the middle of the ring.] DD: We're down to two men! The biggest man who started the match squares off against the second-smallest. BS: Both men are veterans. Both men have had success elsewhere -- and both men will want to get their RCW careers off to the best possible start! [Rage moves towards Bryant, who finally darts out of the corner and under Rage's clothesline attempt, then hits the big man with a dropkick to the knee from behind. Rage goes down to a knee, and Bryant bounces off the ropes and hits Rage with a clothesline, taking the big man down to the canvas! Bryant bounces off the ropes again and drops an elbow on the throat of the big Rage, then pops up and goes to do it again -- but this time Rage rolls out of the way! Big pop!] DD: Bryant showing Rage that he can chop him down if he has to, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Absolutely, Don. Bryant can mix it up in any number of styles: he can brawl, he can wrestle, he can hit you with high-impact moves. But he mustn't underestimate Derek Rage. He is without a doubt the most lithe and agile big man I've ever seen in the squared circle. [Rage and Bryant both get back to their feet, and Bryant charges in towards Rage, who grabs hold of his leg and tosses him with a dragon screw leg whip! Pop! Bryant is immediately back up and charges Rage again... and now it's Rage's turn to show off his power, bringing Bryant up above his head in an impressive press slam, moving towards the ropes, ready to drop him out of the ring... but Bryant shifts his weight, and is able to wriggle free, dropping to his feet behind Rage. He launches himself with a standing dropkick, hitting Rage in the small of his back, and the big man tumbles over the ropes! Big pop!] DD: Bryant got him -- no! No, Derek kept hold of the ropes, and he's rolled back in off the apron! [Rage fights to get back to his feet as Bryant tries to stomp away at him. He knocks Bryant backwards with a hard chop to the Las Vegas native's chest, then whips him into the ropes. Bryant comes off the ropes, and is elevated up with a backdrop... and Rage holds on, bringing Bryant down to the mat hard with a backdrop driver! Big pop!] DD: Bryant has to be on dream street! What a backdrop driver! [Rage drags Bryant back to his feet and tosses him over the top rope -- but Bryant holds on, and lands on the apron, looking a little groggy but wrestling on instinct. Bryant drives his shoulder into Rage's midsection, staggering the big man, and then goes to sunset flip his way back into the ring. As he rolls over Rage... Derek grabs hold of him, in position for a powerbomb! Derek Rage attempts to powerbomb Bryant out of the ring over the top rope... but Bryant locks his legs, countering the powerbomb attempt with a head scissors, then arches his back and grabs hold of the ropes, pulling hard to yank Rage over the top rope! Huge pop!] DD: Bryant counters! Bryant counters! Rage has been eliminated! Dave Bryant wins it! [As Pat Nickrick signals for the bell, Bryant tumbles from the apron to the floor, landing on Rage in a heap!] * DING! DING! DING! * [Glory quickly moves to help her man to his feet, while Pizzazz moves in to help Rage to his feet. Officials Bright and Nickrick interpose themselves between the two men and their women as Sy Simmons makes the announcement.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen... the winner of the DEBUTANTS' BRAWL BATTLE ROYAL is.... DAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE BRRRRRRRRRYYYYYYANT! [The crowd jeers as "Physical" kicks in over the PA again, and Bryant is helped away from the ringside area by Glory, backing away from the furious Derek Rage and Pizzazz, who continue to be restrained by Nickrick and Bright.] DD: What a tremendous battle royal! And what an astonishing counter to Derek Rage's attempted powerbomb to the outside! Dave Bryant wins it, but the rivalry between these two men may be just beginning! Folks, we have to take a break -- we'll be right back after these messages! [As Rage and Pizzazz start to make their way up the aisle, disappointed, fade to commercials.] [Fade back from commercials to show Don Ditka and Billy Shakespeare at the announce position.] DD: Welcome back to RAMPAGE, everybody! What a great way to kick off tonight's action, Billy Shakespeare! BS: Absolutely, Don. Dave Bryant scores the narrowest of victories over Derek Rage -- and there were lots of other moments there to demonstrate the promise of this latest crop of talent to arrive in RCW. DD: One of those promising up-and-comers is Nathan Herod, who drew blood in the battle royal in a brutal attack on "Showtime" Rick Marley. Let's go backstage to Herod and his manager Mick Silvestri right now. [Cut to backstage. Mick Silvestri, for once without a smile, wink, grin or other jovial expression is staring at Nathan Herod. Herod, for his part, seems calm, almost serene.] MS: What... what the bloody hell was that? [Herod shows his still blood-stained hand to his manager.] NH: Blood, Mister Silvestri. MS: No, I mean, yes, sure... but... you pay no attention to what is going on behind your back so you get eliminated, but not before you go all berzerk on that other fellow. Bloody hell! [A simple shrug is the first answer of Nathan.] NH: Mah Pa always told me that first impressions are very important. [He raises an index finger in a mock lecturing pose.] NH: "Nathan," he said, "when ya leave our farm and go into the world there'll be a whole lot of people who don't know ya, or me, or any other Herod. So, when ya first meet 'em and they get into your way or give ya lip or something... BANG!" [Nathan slams his fist into the wall to emphasize his point.] NH: "Walk over 'em and show 'em what being a Herod's all about." That's what ah did tonight, Mister Silvestri. Just listening to mah Pa. [He runs a hand through his marine-style buzzcut, oblivious to the blood he smears on his scalp this way.] NH: And ya were right about this whole wrassling thing. It's a lot of fun. [Another shrug, then Herod turns his back on Silvestri and walks off. His manager looks after him.] MS: I don't believe this. I got myself a monster. [*Now* the smile returns.] MS: Wait a minute... [We cut to a hallway backstage where Orin ÒThe LynxÓ LeBlanc can be seen approaching a door on which a paper sign has been taped with his name on it. As he reaches for the door handle, the brawny Canadian pauses and frowns in suspicion as he realizes that the door is slightly open. Warily glancing up and down the hallway, he adopts a combative stance and kicks open the door as he charges inside. Almost immediately, he backpedals out into the hallway once more with a very surprised expression on his face. From inside the room, a feminine voice can be heard.] V: There you are! IÕve been waiting for you. [His face etched with a combination of surprise and suspicion, LeBlancÕs hands remain balled into fists as he looks up and down the hallway again. Surprisingly, his cheeks also appear to be darkening as if the big man is... blushing?] OL: Uhhh... Mizz Burwick? What are you doing in my dressing room? [The voice from within the room, its owner still unseen but now recognizable as Rip City WrestlingÕs resident ÒcougarÓ, giggles in a low, sultry tone.] JB: Tsk, tsk, Orin. IÕve told you to call me Jodee. And isnÕt it obvious why IÕm here? [LeBlanc remains standing in the hallway and the camera is unable to move past him to see inside the room.] OL: Uhhh... IÕm not sure what you mean. And shouldnÕt you put your clothes on? Somebody could see you. JB: ThatÕs the whole idea, honey! I wanted *YOU* to see me. [Orin shakes his head in disbelief.] OL: Oh, sweet lord... [He now pushes the camera back and away, a perturbed look on his face.] OL: [to the camera] You, back that up! Give a little privacy here! Or do you want to be the one gettin' your paycheck docked when the Man Upstairs has to shell out for them decency fines?! [From inside the locker room, BurwickÕs voice can still be heard.] JB: YouÕve got a cameraman with you? ThatÕs OK, honey. I donÕt mind making a tape or two. It wouldnÕt be the first time I was being shown on the Internet! [Again, Burwick giggles as a snort of amusement can also be heard from the unseen cameraman.] OL: [again shaking his head] Lady, I don't know what kind o' games an' kinkage you like to play with Dorado, but my dressin' room ain't the place for it! Return your sweet self to your clothes or at least a towel an' kindly then extract yourself from my room! JB: Oh, Orin! ItÕs so adorably sweet that youÕre playing hard to get like this... [For the first time since this segment began, Burwick appears in the doorway with a towel wrapped around herself. From a glimpse of bare hip seen where the towel enfolds itself, itÕs clear that the buxom blonde is wearing nothing underneath it as she coos and traces a long fingernail down LeBlancÕs massive chest.] JB: ...but I understand. YouÕre a little shy around cameras. [She nods towards the cameraman with a sly wink.] JB: WeÕll just wait until we can have some time alone and then IÕll come back, OK? [The Lynx does not appear amused.] OL: [firmly] Out. Now. An' go tell Dorado I ain't interested in playin' peekaboo. Sooner or later, he has to stand an' face me. An' if it's by my hand, it'll be sooner! [Unperturbed, Burwick tries to lace her fingers in LeBlancÕs meaty fist but he irritatedly pulls it away.] JB: IÕll tell him, big boy. But youÕve got such *STRONG* hands... strong enough to... [A sly wink to the camera clearly demonstrates that the artificially-enhanced blonde is still in "power flirt" mode.] JB: ...well, weÕll have to find that out later. Toodle-oo! [And with a wave of overly-manicured fingernails, Burwick saunters off down the hallway, swaying her hips suggestively in a manner that flicks the corners of her tail up in revealing ways. LeBlanc watches her leave and sighs a little in exasperation, pushing the camera back from focusing on the exiting Burwick.] OL: [muttering] I swear, it's like a teachers' strike here sometimes... no class. Can't find that goldfinch anywhere, but that woman o' his is waitin' all brazenly as you please fer me in over in MY dressin' room an'... [LeBlanc pauses, his brow furrowed in thought.] OL: ...waitin'... [A toothy grin spreads slowly across the Lynx's face as he suddenly heads off in a different direction. Cut back to the announce position at ringside.] DD: Just how brazen is Jodee Burwick, Billy Shakespeare?! BS: She's certainly, uh, *direct*, Don. Is it just me, or did Orin LeBlanc not seem so repulsed tonight by Ms. Burwick tonight as he has in past weeks? DD: I wouldn't want to speculate, Billy Shakespeare. Folks, later on tonight we'll see RCW Champion Johnny Pleasence make the first-ever title defence when he faces "Your Hero" Danny Daniels. Let's go backstage to hear from the champ now. [We cut to the back, where Johnny Pleasence, RCW Champion, is dressed in his ring gear standing in front of a "RAMPAGE" backdrop. Pleasence, with his title on his right shoulder, looks like he couldn't care less as he fiddles with a pack of smokes. He glances up, grimaces in disgust at the camera, and tosses the cigarettes off to the side, presumably for later.] JP: Bollocks, children. That's what this is... pure bollocks, plain and simple. [Pleasence sighs.] JP: Like it or not, I'm a champion. _Your_ champion... but do I have the respect that a champion deserves? Hell no, I don't. [Pleasence chuckles.] JP: I've never lied to you soddin' idiots -- what you've seen and will continue to see is what you're gonna get. And for the most of you, it's gonna be a hell of a lot of pain. Daniels, listen mate -- honestly, I don't know where your gourd's at. Forgettin' the champ's name, ramblin' on about bein' a hero and all that... you may think your antics impress folks in... well, I guess they _do_ impress folks in _Portland_, but in my world? You're nothin' but fodder... but let's get somethin' straight. [Pleasence holds up the RCW belt.] JP: We both know you're after this. Hell, everyone in the soddin' fed's after it, but tonight, you get your shot. Take a good look at it kid -- know that if you _really_ want it, you'll do everything in your power just to get it... just like _I_ did. _But you won't_. Fact of the matter is, Hero -- you don't have what it takes. Never did. Never _will_. You don't have what it takes to yank that albatross of fans off your neck and just bloody well get the job done! You're going to continue to play your little game, makin' some damned poof laugh as you try and peddle another t-shirt, wallowing in medocrity for the rest of your career. When I drop you on your skull -- and I _will_ drop you on your skull, kid -- it's gonna be clear to you and the rest of the world that Danny Daniels is _not_ World Champion material. Hell, it'll be proven even more that when it comes down to it, Heroes just can't measure up to the Big Bad. And, most importantly? It's going to prove that I am a champion that will _not_ be denied. [Pleasence adjusts his title on his shoulder.] JP: The time for talkin' done, Rip City. Time to show you just what a champion's capable of doing. [And with that, Pleasence walks out of the shot as we cut back to ringside.] DD: Well, folks, strong words from the champion -- but it's time for our next match-up. The Monster from Almunster, Madrock the Irrepressible, takes on the man who jumped him after his match two weeks ago, Ryan Faith. I understand we can get a word with Ryan Faith -- and his new valet Dinah -- right now. [Cut to backstage where Ryan Faith and Dinah are walking hand-in-hand towards the entrance to the arena.] RF: Just a few more seconds, Madrock. Just a few more seconds before we walk through the curtains, down that aisle and then begin what will be the decimation of Madrock. Just a few more seconds until the world sees the most lopsided victory so far in the RCW's history. And then it'll only be three seconds 'til the myth of Madrock is destroyed in front of all his fans... in front of the masses. [The two stop just before the entrance way.] D: I'm sorry, Madrock. But it seems that not even *I* can control him when he gets all heated. And god, do I love it when he gets all hot. [Ryan looks to Dinah and then back to the camera.] RF: Madrock, you still have a chance to quit. You can walk out of this match before you are revealed as the fraud we all know you are. Walk off into the sunset... call it a day. Because once my name is called... and once I step into that ring.. [Pauses] RF: Once all of that happens? Well, there won't be any turning back. And just ask this little lady here, once you start me up... there ain't no stopping me. [Ryan and Dinah prepare to enter the arena as they receive their cue. The production assistant in the Gorilla position gives Faith a signal...] RF: I guess you don't have any choice now. Prepare yourself, Madrock... to test your faith. [Cut back to ringside.] DD: It's time, folks -- let's get up to Sy Simmons! ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / Madrock the Irrepressible vs. Ryan Faith /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Sy Simmons stands in the ring and brings his microphone to his lips as referee Bobby Belshee rolls into the ring under the ropes.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first... ["God Hates A Coward" by Tomahawk begins to play as Ryan Faith and Dinah make their way out from behind the curtains to a big heel pop.] SS: ...accompanied to the ring by Dinah... hailing from Southborough, Massachusetts, and weighing in at 220lbs... here is RYYYYYYYYAAAAAAN FAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIITH! [A few spotlights circle around the Garden before focusing in on the youngster and his valet. Ryan looks towards his left and right before focusing his gaze on the ring. Dinah drapes herself over the shoulder of her man: she runs her fingers through his hair, revealing those piercing blue eyes.] DD: Well, Billy Shakespeare, what do you make of Dinah? BS: In the words of the Scottish play, she has "Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself." Dinah's an ambitious young woman -- ambitious for Faith, and ambitious for herself. DD: Ambition can certainly be dangerous -- and Ryan Faith has already shown us that he means business since his return from suspension two weeks ago. [Faith, wearing his usual ring attire of blue jean shorts and black high wrestling boots, makes his way to the ring, Dinah walking beside him, the male fans in the audience getting quite an eyeful as she walks down to the ring in her shorts, high boots and tight vest top with plunnging neckline, her brown hair cascading down around her shoulders. Faith slides under the bottom rope and jumps up to the top turnbuckle with his hands to his side, looking out into the crowd, while Dinah stands behind him in the ring, a sly smile on her face, applauding her charge.] DD: These two could be a big threat here in RCW, Billy -- but add to the equation that they have aligned themselves with RCW Champion, and I really don't know what to think. BS: Absolutely, Don. I had Pleasence pegged as a lone wolf -- no pun intended -- but with Faith backing him up, and vice versa, things could get very interesting for anybody who wants to try and take that title from Pleasence. DD: We'll get the opportunity to see first-hand in tonight's main event -- folks, Madrock the Irrepressible is about to make his entrance, but I understand he has a few pre-match words for his opponent. [Madrock the Irrepressible stands somberly behind the entrance curtain. He is a ponderous giant, not the shouting madman of jollier timers, carefully choosing his words for the audience.] M: You know sumfin', yer ol' pal Madrock s'been doin' a lotta 'eavy 'finkin' about wot words were said by dat lyin' snake Ryan Faiff! 'Ees been doin' a whole lotta rabbittin', sayin' stuff 'bout how people 'been treatin' da Bane uv' Brisbane like sum sort uv' joke, dat da fans were all sittin' in iz head an' dat frankly... I wazzunt so much a hero as I wuz a zero... Now hearin' Ryan's words, ever'fin' started soundin' ravver familiar... like I 'eard those words before... [And 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... We have blast-off.] M: OF COURSE I 'ERD THEM BEFORE, CUZ I'M DA RUDDY FOOL DAT SPOKE 'EM JUST TWO WEEKS AGO!!! Effin' Christ, the ezzact same words I used ta describe the Donny Dannels: now 'ees a git 'oos REALLY clueless, a pillock, a bleedin' headcase! But you Ryan Faiff are a lyin' snake: you keep on rabbittin' but you sound more like a parrot, and when you say there ain't no die-'ard wallabies, well dat's just bull! Straight from the horse's mawf: you try to monkey me but you sound more like a jackass! So ooz top dog 'round dese parts? It's da animal, Madrock, an' if anyone agrees then give me a shout: [cups hands around his mouth] ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! [Now take care, as Madrock actually tries to act all serious and pronounce the words as best he can.] M: Faith [he actually pronounces the word halfway decently] is bein' able to BELIEVE in yourself... to know you are ready to succeed in the task you've laid out in front uv' you. I'm fightin' for myself, and I teach 'uvvers to fight for themselves but you... you don't fight fer yourself, you fight for Johnny P's good graces. A whole lotta muckin' about juss so'z you can stab Johnny English in da back. Fact iz, if anyone is lackin' faith, it'd be YOU! Now Ryan, I want ya to look at these hands: my hands! Dese arrn't da 'ands of absolution, dey ain't da 'ands dat open up the light uv' troof or wot-have-yous! No, these 'ands... ARE BIGGA THEN YOURS! An' dats all I need to crush your skull into the canvas! Dats my faith, doesn't need any trik'ry to do it'z job, an' it pounds da daylights outta yours! [Madrock makes his way out towards the curtain. We cut back to the arena: "God Hates a Coward" fades over the PA and the crowd pops as "Tubthumping" by Chumbawamba booms out in its place.] SS: And introducing his opponent... he hails from Cockatoo Island, Australia... he weighs in at 327lbs... he is... MAAAAAAAADROOOOCK THE IRRRRRREPRRRRRRREEEEEEESSIBLE! [The crowd cheers as Madrock stomps out into the aisle, his green cape swirling behind him. He stops at the head of the aisle, removing his wide-brimmed hat to reveal a grinning wallaby bandana tied on his head.] DD: And there's the famous bandana. Did you know, Billy Shakespeare, that you hurt Madrock's feelings when you compared his bandanas to your ice cream bars? BS: You'd think somebody as big as Madrock would have thicker skin, Don. To make matters worse for Madrock, I hear those Danny Daniels t-shirts have sold out. DD: Are you enjoying this, Billy Shakespeare? BS: I'm having a great time here in the Garden! DD: That's not what I meant, and you know it. [Madrock makes his way down the aisle, slapping the hands of every fan he can reach, and making a special effort to greet those fans who are wearing one of his bandanas.] DD: There are quite a few of those bandanas out there in the crowd, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Goodie. [Madrock stomps down to the bottom of the aisle and looks up at Ryan Faith in the ring. Dinah has rolled out of the ring and taken up a position at one corner, by the ringsteps. Faith, for his part, stares down at Madrock. The big Australian unfastens his cape and hands it to a ringside attendant, then hands over his hat, and then slaps the attendant on the back so hard that he nearly falls over. Madrock then removes the bandana from his head and hamfistedly places it on the head of a fan at ringside, his massive ham-like hands making the dainty job more difficult than you might imagine.] BS: What's Madrock doing *giving* his bandanas away? DD: Give him a break, Billy Shakespeare. That's called good marketing. [Madrock looks across the ringside area towards Dinah, and puckers up his lips in a pantomime kiss. A look of complete disgust crosses Dinah's face.] BS: No amount of marketing can make *that* an easy sale, Don. DD: You're right on that point, Billy Shakespeare! [Madrock finally rolls into the ring and stands across the canvas from Ryan Faith. Match offical Bobby Belshee signals for the timekeeper to ring the bell.] * DING! DING! DING! * [Faith immediately lunges at Madrock, catching the Australian off-guard. Faith executes a double leg takedown and fells the Australian with a thud! Heel pop! Faith immediately goes to work on the legs with a serie of swift kicks, until Madrock manages to reach up with one of his ham-like fists and swat Faith away, allowing him back to his feet.] BS: Faith is laying it out on the table right from the beginning, Don. He knows that Madrock's arsenal relies on power, and power comes from the legs. If Faith chops down Madrock, he's got a much better chance against a man he's giving up a hundred pounds in weight. [Madrock charges towards Faith, emitting his standard battlecry -- and Faith fells Madrock again with a drop toe-hold, then jumps up... and lands two-footed on Madrock's legs! Big heel pop!] DD: Wow, that's some stomp on the big man's legs! [Madrock howls out in pain as official Bobby Belshee warns Faith, who simply smirks and pushes past the official. As Madrock pulls himself back to his feet using the ropes, Faith unloads again on the big man's legs with a series of kicks, then sends the big man for the ride -- and as he comes back towards him, Faith hits a low dropkick to the knees! Big heel pop as Madrock once again goes down!] DD: When more than three hundred pounds comes crashing down to the mat, that's got to do a lot of damage, and in a hurry. BS: Quite right, Don. Faith is wrestling very smart here in the early going. [Madrock once more powers back to his feet, to the cheers of the crowd, and Faith once again moves in to send Madrock to the ropes. This time as the big Australian comes towards him, Faith drops and hits a dragon screw leg whip on the big man, wrenching his legs!] BS: Faith is taking advantage of Madrock's own momentum with that dragon screw leg whip, Don. Trying to move that big man from a standing start would be considerably more difficult for a man of Faith's size. [Faith grabs one of Madrock's legs and twists it inward, stepping over Madrock's other leg and twisting the leg more and more. Heel pop!] DD: Spinning toe hold from Ryan Faith on the big man! [Madrock finally manages to power out with his free leg, sending Faith crashing to the mat. As both men get back to their feet, it's plain to see that the Australian has been slowed down a little by Faith's assault. Faith once more moves in on Madrock, stunning him with a couple of forearm uppercuts, backs him into the corner, lighting him up with chops. Once the big man's back is in the corner, Faith cinches up and unleashes a volley of kicks on Madrock's legs... first to the shin... then to the knee... then to the thigh... and finally to the side of Madrock's body. Big heel pop!] DD: Ryan Faith has very dangerous feet, Billy Shakespeare! BS: Undeniably -- and Madrock has got to start countering these continual attacks, or he's going to find himself chopped down to size in a hurry. [Madrock staggers out into the ring, and Faith is ready and waiting for him, doubling him over with a kick to the midsection. Faith hooks one of Madrock's arms, and then the other...] DD: Oh boy! Faith is going for the Test of Faith here in the early going! BS: If Faith hits this Tiger Driver now, it's game over for Madrock! [Faith tries to lift Madrock up... but to the delight of the crowd, it is Faith who finds himself lifted up onto Madrock's back... and Madrock tries to grab Faith's legs as he then jumps up to sit down and drive Faith's head into the canvas. Faith, however, flips free of the hold, much to the disappointment of the crowd!] DD: Madrock nearly reversed the Test of Faith right into the Coming Down Abbott's Peak! BS: Both holds start from a similar position, Don. [Madrock gets back to his feet, and Faith gets back to his. They face each other across the ring again. Faith charges in and goes for a kick -- but Madrock now grabs hold of Faith's leg and stops him in his tracks. Madrock tightens his grip on Faith's leg with his other hand... and then lifts him up by his leg, before turning and slamming him to the mat with a modified sit-out spinebuster! Big pop!] DD: An unconventional spinebuster Billy Shakespeare, but effective! BS: Madrock has to make that power advantage count, Don! Faith is just too quick and has too much technical skill for Madrock to be successful any other way. [Madrock stays on Faith, bringing him back to his feet and hitting him with a couple of open-handed slaps to the chest, leaving large ham-sized handprints on the Southborough native's skin! Big pop with each slap! Madrock sends Faith for the ride, and catches him on the return with a front waistlock... and then tosses him with a belly-to-belly suplex! Big pop!] DD: Big-time suplex from Madrock the Irrepressible, and Faith is reeling! BS: Yeah, and how about those bandanas, huh, Don? DD: Will you stop, Billy Shakespeare?! [Madrock brings Faith back to his feet and hoists him up onto his shoulder in a Fireman's carry, then gives a yell to the fans, who respond with a yell of their own... and then rolls forwards, dumping Faith to the mat and dropping his own weight on top of him!] DD: Steamroller from Madrock! That's three hundred plus pounds rolling over Ryan Faith! [Madrock makes the cover, and Belshee drops to make the count... 1... ...Madrock breaks the cover when Dinah jumps up on the apron directly in his line of sight. The big Australian gets to his feet and stomps over towards the apron -- only for Dinah to grab hold of Madrock's head and jump off the apron back to the floor, hotshotting Madrock's throat across the top rope! Heel pop! Madrock turns and staggers back towards the centre of the ring, where he is met by a kick to the midsection and then a snap DDT! Big heel pop!] DD: What the hell does Dinah think she's doing, getting involved in this match, Billy Shakespeare? BS: She wants to make a name for herself, Don. And she's not afraid of this big bad Australian wolf. [Faith grabs Madrock's legs and lifts them up, bending one leg so that the shin is behind the knee of the other, then positions the straight leg in his armpit. He reaches around the ankle and through the opening formed by the legs, and locks his hands together.] DD: Faith is going for the Texas cloverleaf! Can he turn him over? Can Faith turn Madrock over? [Big heel pop as Faith manages to lever Madrock over onto his belly, and leans back, locking in the Texas cloverleaf. Madrock yells out in pain.] BS: This is a very painful hold, Don. It compresses the legs, flexes the spine, and stretches the abdomen. DD: But Madrock won't submit, Billy Shakespeare. I don't believe the words "I Quit" are in his vocabulary. BS: Wel, Don, I don't believe the word "vocabulary" is in his vocabulary. DD: You may be right -- but while he may not be the most articulate of RCW's superstars, he's one of the toughest, and he's trying to gut this out! [Faith has the hold locked in tight, and Belshee checks on Madrock, who refuses to submit. Dinah begins slapping the mat, trying to taunt Madrock into tapping out, but this actually motivates the crowd to start clapping along, encouraging the big Australian!] DD: These fans are getting behind Madrock here! Can they help him to hold on and break out of this hold? [The clapping starts to be punctuated by chants of "MAD-ROCK! MAD-ROCK! MAD-ROCK!", drawing the ire of Dinah, who becomes increasingly animated on the outside, trying to shut the fans up. Faith looks over his shoulder at Madrock, and leans back harder.] DD: Madrock needs to make it to the ropes, Billy Shakespeare! BS: Or if he has the strength in his arms, he can relieve the pressure by pushing his torso upwards -- a bit like doing push-ups with an extra two hundred pound weight on your back! [And yet, that's exactly what Madrock does, egged on by the cheers of the crowd, he puts his palms flat on the mat, and forces himself up, the chants giving him extra strengh, Faith shaking his head as if he can't believe Madrock is finding the extra strength, Madrock now with his body off the ground, Faith stepping forwards, losing his leverage... and then the crowd erupts as Faith loses his grip and Madrock is free!] DD: Madrock powers out of the Texas cloverleaf! Impressive upper body strength from the Australian powerhouse! BS: Yes, Don, that's something out of the ordinary. The crowd is behind Madrock now, and he may now get a second wind. DD: ...I'm sure there's a joke in there somewhere. [Madrock gets back to his feet, and Faith charges in. The crowd cheer as Madrock hits a clubbing clothesline on Faith, sending him back to the mat! Faith pops up again and charges in once more... again Madrock fells him with a clothesline! Faith charges in *again*... and this time Madrock whips him into the corner, Faith hitting the turnbuckles hard!] DD: We know what comes next! [Madrock charges in, launching himself into the air to hit his trademark splash... but he ends up eating turnbuckle! Big heel pop!] DD: Dinah just pulled Ryan Faith out of the ring by his foot! BS: Smart move, Don -- nobody wants a big, angry, sweaty Australian to get *that* up close and personal! [On the outside, Dinah strokes Faith's face, pushing his hair away from his sweaty face, Faith's blue eyes looking a little glassy, and then both Dinah and Faith scatter as Madrock rolls out of the ring under the bottom rope and takes off after them both! Dinah rolls into the ring to avoid Madrock while he pursues Faith. Dinah rolls back out of the ring behind Madrock, and yanks the timekeeper off his chair. Heel pop!] DD: Match official Bobby Belshee is losing control here, Billy Shakespeare. This is turning into a handicap match! [Dinah grabs the steel folding chair that the timekeeper was sitting on and folds it up, stalking behind Madrock, who is still in pursuit of Faith. Alerted by the front row fans, Madrock turns around to find Dinah brandishing the chair... and Madrock opens his arms as if to embrace her! Big pop!] DD: Madrock wants a kiss! But the only kind of kiss Dinah's interested in is the kiss of steel chair against human skull! [Dinah's eyes widen and she backs away, still clutching the chair... and Madrock is attacked from behind by Faith! Big heel pop!] DD: Dinah is proving herself to be very useful here already, Billy Shakespeare! [Faith rolls the bulky form of Madrock back into the ring, and then climbs back in himself. Madrock greets Faith with a shot to the midsection... and suddenly there is a commotion in the crowd as somebody enters the aisle.] DD: Hang on a moment -- here comes Danny Daniels! What's he doing out here?! [Daniels makes his way down to the ring, a t-shirt in hand. The camera's microphone picks up Daniels shouting to the fans that this is the very last "YOUR HERO" t-shirt, and can be had for the bargain price of $60! Daniels makes a point of stopping and trying to sell the shirt to a fan in the aisle wearing a Madrock "grinning wallaby" bandana.] DD: Danny Daniels came out here two weeks ago during Madrock's match against Orin LeBlanc and his attempts to sell t-shirts ended up costing Madrock that match. Please don't tell me we're in for a repeat performance this week? BS: Daniels should be focused on his match against Johnny Pleasence here later tonight, not supplementing his income with extra merchandising. [Meanwhile, Madrock sends Faith to the ropes, and hits him with a clothesline on the return. Madrock grabs hold of a foot and a leg... and then hefts Faith up off the canvas. On the outside, Dinah goes bananas!] DD: Uh-oh -- we've seen this before! BS: Here comes the Giant Swing! [Madrock turns and turns and turns and turns, Faith is lifted off the ground, spinning and spinning... Danny Daniels gets up on the ring apron, holding his t-shirt up for the world to see... Madrock releases Faith... Faith flies across the ring... and hits Danny Daniels! Daniels is sent flying from the apron, and almost ends up in the front row of the fans! Big pop!] DD: Well, last week Madrock collided with Danny Daniels and it cost him the match -- this week it's Faith. Can Madrock capitalise? [Madrock drops onto Faith to make the cover... 1... 2... ...and Belshee is pulled from the ring by Dinah! Big heel pop!] DD: Oh, come on! That jezebel just broke the count! [Madrock is enraged, and immediately makes puckering noises with his lips in Dinah's direction, and rolls from the ring. Dinah tries to use Belshee as a human shield as the big Australian chases the two of them around the ring. They pass Danny Daniels, who is sat in the front row of the fans, bewailing the state of his last "YOUR HERO" shirt, which got soaked in beer when he tumbled over the crowd barriers. Meanwhile, Faith rolls out of the ring and grabs the steel chair that Dinah dropped earlier on.] DD: Oh, this could be bad, Billy Shakespeare! [As Faith rounds on Madrock from behind, Dinah shoves Belshee towards Madrock. The hapless official collides with the Australian man-mountain and tumbles to the floor... and then Faith brings the chair down on Madrock's head, hard!] * CLANG! * [Big heel pop -- but Madrock doesn't go down! Faith takes another big swing...] * CLANG! * [...and the big man staggers backwards, slumping against the ringpost... Faith takes another swing...] * CLANNNNGGG! * [Huge heel pop as Madrock's head is sandwiched between the steel of the ringpost and the steel of the chair brandished by Faith. Madrock slumps to the floor as the crowd jeers! Dinah picks up Belshee and rolls him into the ring as Faith attempts to do the same to the huge Madrock.] DD: Did you see that, Billy Shakespeare? Madrock took two direct blows to the head with a steel chair and he did not go down! BS: But whichever way you slice it, Don, those kinds of blows will take their toll. Madrock looks like he's out of it. [Faith manages to muscle Madrock back into the ring under the bottom rope, and immediately drops to make the cover. Belshee makes the count... 1... 2... ...Huge pop! Madrock gets a shoulder up!] DD: Unbelievable! Ryan Faith must be wondering what he has to do to put Madrock the Irrepressible away! BS: He's tougher than a bag of hammers -- and twice as dumb! [The crowd claps and cheers as Faith gets to his feet, and his blue eyes show rage as he pushes his sweat-matted hair out of his face. Dinah slaps the mat on the outside, encouraging her man. Faith nods to her, and hauls Madrock up to his feet. Faith kicks Madrock in the stomach, doubling him over... and hooks one arm... then the other...] DD: We saw this two weeks ago! We know Faith can do it! [Faith hoists Madrock up... then *powers* him down with his trademark sit-out double underhook piledriver!] DD: TEST OF FAITH! TEST OF FAITH! [The crowd jeers as Faith covers Madrock. Belshee again makes the cover... 1... 2... ...3!] * DING! DING! DING! * [The crowd gives a disappointed pop as Dinah rolls into the ring and embraces her charge. Belshee raises Faith's hand as Sy Simmons makes it official.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen... your winner by pinfall... RYYYYAAAAAN FAAAAAAAIIIIIITH! [The crowd jeers as "God Hates A Coward" starts up over the PA. Faith sneers down at Madrock.] DD: A hard-fought victory for Ryan Faith here -- but by no means a fair one. We had steel chairs, interference from Dinah, the distraction of Danny Daniels... BS: Who's still sat in the front row, by the way, worrying about the state of his t-shirt... DD: Madrock showed us a lot tonight -- and he may not be done just yet! [Faith and Dinah suddenly scatter from the ring as Madrock sits up and fights his way back to his feet, his hand moving to the back of his head to feel the lumps rising from the impact of the steel chair shots. The crowd pops as Madrock staggers around in the ring, mad as hell. Faith and Dinah back up the aisle, looking up at the rampaging Australian in the ring.] DD: He's tough as old boots, Billy Shakespeare! BS: It takes a lot to put Madrock down, Don. DD: Well, folks, earlier tonight we heard the big announcement that RCW's first-ever pay-per-view will emanate live from this very arena, the Rose Garden, on Sunday July 16th... and it'll be a Wild Summer Night. If Madrock the Irrepressible is there, it'll be even wilder. But I digress... the announcement was made by none other than the legendary Lord Byron, and I understand he's still here in the Garden. Let's take a look. [The camera cuts backstage, where the RCW President is escorting Lord Byron to the hospitality suites. They are strolling amiably along, a wan smile on the President's face as they discuss old times. A faint cheer is heard in the background from the main arena as the images are shown on screen.] DS: Remember Ring Wars III? One of our finest hours... LB: And how could I forget? We packed out the Toronto Skydome. My first pay-per-view match with the IIWF. I wonder whatever happened to Warnett? [Byron smirks. The President coughs into his hand, trying and failing to mask a smile.] LB: Still, it seems as though you're well on your way to bringing the glory days ba... [Byron is cut off in mid-sentence as a door swings open in front of him, disgorging a staggering Liam Cassidy, who stumbles straight into the aristocrat, tipping and dropping the bottle of bourbon he is carrying...] LB: What the he...?! [This time, Byron cuts himself off, arms out, looking down at the rapidly-spreading black stain across the front of his finely-tailored Hugo Boss suit.] LC: Sorry lad, easy there! My bad! Let me take care of that... [Cassidy pulls out a ragged handkerchief and reaches out to brush Byron down, who steps quickly back, slapping the hand away.] LB: Don't even *think* about touching me. What the hell are you thinking? Don't you people look where you're going? DS: It's okay, Byron, let's just.. [Byron holds up a warning hand, and it's the President's turn to be cut off. Byron brushes the front of his suit, sniffs his hand and reels back coughing, a look of disgust on his face. He snaps his eyes up, fixing the swaying Cassidy with a glare.] LB: The hell it's alright. What is this.. this filth? Who is this, a cleaner? Your recruitment standards appear to be slipping, Daniel... [Cassidy's head snaps up and his eyes focus on Byron in an instant. This isnÕt the first time heÕs had to endure this kind of attitude. He slowly steps forward, until he's almost nose-to-nose with Byron, who simply looks back at him, incredulously.] LC: Actually, lad... Whoever you are... I ainÕt no cleaner. IÕm a wrassler, just like the rest of them. Liam CassidyÕs the name. The Jersey Drifter. How do you do? [A roar can be heard from the arena as Cassidy proceeds to stare down Byron. Byron looks him up and down slowly, an amused smile on his face.] LB: You're... a wrestler here? [Cassidy nods. Byron slowly turns, looking at Spreadbury for confirmation.] DS: It's true. Liam here is an active member of the RCW roster. [Byron's smile fades, and he turns back to Cassidy. An apprehensive rumble can be heard from the fans in the background as Byron gives Cassidy another once-over... ...and then he bursts out laughing. The heel pop is instant, and immense. Byron claps a hand on Spreadbury's shoulder, wiping his eyes.] LB: That's a good one, *Mr. President*. I didn't realize I was working for *charity*. You've made my night. [Both Cassidy's face and the President's face darken together as the crowd outside erupts into jeers. Byron continues to laugh as Cassidy's fists clench.] LC: You know something, I don't quite know who you are and I don't particularly care either. But I ain't never taken charity, and I don't care to be called it. I said I was sorry -- if that ain't good enough for ya, you look like a big enough lad, so why don't we take a little mosey down the aisle and you can try me out? [Byron's laughter stops instantly, and it's the blue-blood's turn to get in Cassidy's face. Byron glares at the Drifter, looking down his nose into the disheveled face as the President anxiously tries to separate them.] LB: Three reasons, pup. One... I think I've soiled my hands enough with you tonight as it is. [An all-too familiar look to the Portland fans appears on Byron's face: Byron is sneering in contempt... at an RCW wrestler. The crowd goes ballistic!] LB: Two... I'm a guest here -- not... [Byron smirks] ...an "active member of the RCW roster." Thank god for small mercies. [The President's frown deepens as he hears the reaction from the ringside crowd. Cassidy clenches his fists as Byron leans closer. Byron tilts his head, smirks, and holds up three fingers in Cassidy's face...] LB: Three... you wouldn't last a minute. [Byron snaps his fingers in Cassidy's face, and turns, stalking away from the stunned President and the furious Cassidy, his cane clicking on the concrete as he heads for the arena exit...] LC: All right, lad. You're on. [Another roar from ringside! Byron stops dead, turning to look back over his shoulder at the vagabond, disbelief etched across his features.] LB: Excuse me? LC: You're on. You think you can finish me off in a minute? Fine. I'm ready when you are. Let's go. [A smile crosses the President's face for the first time since Cassidy appeared and the exchange started -- he almost appears to be gloating.] DS: What do you say, Byron? That's an amazing challenge you've just thrown down, in front of a live audience to boot. What do you say? Care to back your words up in the ring? [Byron opens his mouth. Closes it again. He turns a black look on Spreadbury, his knuckles whitening on the handle of his brass topped cane.] DS: You aren't going to back down now, are you Byron? The "greatest technical wrestler of all time?" The "legend?" [There's no mistaking the humor in Spreadbury's voice -- maybe it was the charity comment, but the President is enjoying Byron's discomfort. The background rumble grows to a roar as the fans grow impatient... another IIWF legend... could he be heading to an RCW ring? The black look leaves Byron's face, and his head snaps up, an expressionless gaze fixing on the President.] LB: And I thought you were trying to protect your "talent," Mr. Spreadbury. You know my agent's number -- set it up. [Byron flicks his cool gaze across to Cassidy...] LB: One minute. [Byron snaps his fingers again, and turns away, storming out of the arena. Cassidy follows him with his eyes, staring down the aristocratic superstar as he disappears. Bending over to pick up his bottle, Liam lifts it up and swishes it around to see how much booze he lost.] LC: IÕll tell ya this, boss man... [He takes a swig of the leftover bourbon that didnÕt fall all over the floor. Liam turns to Dan, offering him the bottle. The President takes it, and casually drops it into the garbage can at his side as Liam wipes his mouth and adjusts his weather-worn black fedora.] LC: Your friend there is in for a rude awakening. He thinks he can beat me in one minute? [Cassidy glares back at where Byron exited.] LC: Give me one second to knock his pretty little lights out. IÕll show him who the cleaner is. [He pounds his fist furiously into a nearby locker to let off some steam, denting it in the process. Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Did I hear that right? Lord Byron will wrestle "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy live here in two weeks' time, and has guaranteed to defeat him in less than sixty seconds! BS: You did, Don. And with no disrespect to Liam Cassidy, I wouldn't bet against Byron! DD: Well, folks, that'll be just another reason to tune in to our next edition of RCW RAMPAGE, two weeks from tonight! In just a moment, we're going to see "Pistol" Paul Driscoll put his number one contendership on the line against Vinny Carmazzi. Let's get a few pre-match words from Driscoll now. [Cut to the backstage area, where intrepid reporter/spikey-haired punk Jamie Bond stands next to Paul Driscoll. The #1 contender to the RCW Championship is dressed to wrestle and already sweating. He runs a hand through wet hair and elbows Bond.] PD: Gonna say somethin'? JB: Totally. You're about to put your newly-won #1 contendership on the line against Vinny Carmazzi in just a few moments, against someone who you have no bones about describing your dislike for. What does Carmazzi have in store? PD: Tonight's all 'bout a trip down mem'ry lane fer Vin Carmazzi. He's been a pain in my ass since I signed my name on the dotted line a few months ago, but instead o' goin' away he just keeps hangin' around. It ain't my job to tell a body where he should be or why he should be there. But Vinny Carmazzi left me no choice -- that little bastard gets put in his place tonight. JB: And if Johnny Pleasence shows his face? [Driscoll thinks about it for a moment, then gives Bond a playful slap on the cheek.] PD: It's a free country, it ain't 'gainst the law. But if by "show his face" you mean he innerferes in the match? [Driscoll shrugs.] PD: Then there won't be no need to wait. I'll knock his face off then and there. [Driscoll stalks out of shot towards the entrance curtain as we cut back to the announce table.] DD: Paul Driscoll's in no mood for nonsense tonight, folks. Let's get up to the ring! ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / #1 CONTENDERSHIP AT STAKE /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ "Pistol" Paul Driscoll vs. Vinny Carmazzi [Sy Simmons takes up his position in the middle of the ring, official Jim Bright standing behind him in one corner.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall, and the number one contendership for the RCW Championship is at stake! [Mixed pop as "Walk All Over You" by AC/DC kicks in over the PA and the lights in the arena dim.] SS: Introducing firs... hailing from Odessa, Texas, and weighing in at 263lbs... he is the number one contender to the RCW Championship... he is... "PIIIIIIIIIIIISSSTOL" PAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUL DRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSCOLL! [As a single spotlight picks out the head of the aisle, the curtains are quickly swept aside and out from the back strides "Pistol" Paul Driscoll, paying no attention to the fans. Driscoll is clad in dark blue wrestling trunks, with matching boots and kneepads. His hands are heavily wrapped up in white athletic tape, much like a boxer. Driscoll also wears a sleeveless denim vest to the ring.] DD: Here he comes, Billy Shakespeare. And this will be a very interesting match indeed. BS: Driscoll and Carmazzi met in their very first match here in RCW, but they have history going back several years to Florida. DD: Indeed they do. Driscoll beat on Carmazzi more than once, when Carmazzi was working as, uh, enhancement talent in a promotion down in the sunshine state. BS: Carmazzi hasn't had the advantages that this man has had, Don. Driscoll is a second-generation athlete from a famous wrestling family. I think Carmazzi feels Driscoll's success has been handed to him on a silver plate -- whereas Carmazzi has been fighting to make it for twelve years. DD: Do you think Driscoll putting his number one contendership on the line here tonight in a match will settle things between these two men? BS: Only time will tell, Don. [Driscoll's chin-length, wavy brown hair is shiny and wet looking, slicked back against his head although he shakes it loose as he walks. As he enters the ringside area, Paul quickly hops up the steel stairs and enters the ring, whipping off the denim vest and throwing it outside, then ascending the nearest turnbuckle, raising one hand into the air and surveying the crowd. He receives a mixed reaction from the fans.] DD: The crowd here in the Garden doesn't know quite what to make of Driscoll. BS: He's an elusive character, Don. He keeps himself to himself. And he speaks his mind -- that doesn't always lead to winning popularity contests. [As AC/DC fades out, Sy Simmons brings the microphone back to his mouth.] SS: And his opponent... ["I Stand Alone" by Godsmack powers over the PA to a big pop!] SS: ...hailing from Jersey City, New Jersey, and weighing in at 235lbs... here is... VIIIIIIIIIIIINNNY CAAAAAAAAARMAAAAAAAZZIII! [The fans cheer as Carmazzi strides out into the aisle. As usual, he's wearing long black tights with red droplets of blood emblazoned down each leg. He adjusts his black elbowpads as he makes his way down to the ring, a look of total determination on his face, his upper body beaded with water from a pre-match shower.] DD: And here comes Vinny Carmazzi, perhaps the hardest-working man in RCW. BS: He's determined to make a go of it, Don, that's for sure. After twelve years, he's certainly paid his dues. Carmazzi feels it's long overdue for him to hit the big time. DD: These fans are certainly giving him a very warm welcome -- in their eyes, I think this man *has* hit the big time. [Carmazzi keeps his eyes locked on the ring, his left arm absent-mindedly outstretched and allowing the fans to glad-hand him... until the fans erupt with a big heel pop!] DD: Wait a minute -- who's that? BS: It's Nolan Dorado! [Nolan Dorado has burst through the curtains and run down the aisle behind Carmazzi. In a single bound, he leaps onto the steel ring barriers, sending fans scattering in fright, and then launches himself with a brutal crescent kick to the back of Carmazzi's head! Huge heel pop!] DD: Springboard crescent kick from Dorado! What the hell is the "Golden Boy" doing out here?! BS: Dorado's still mad that he's 0-2 against Carmazzi -- and it's just eating him up on the inside that Carmazzi's got the chance to wrestle for the number one contendership, and he's not even on the card. [Carmazzi hits the concrete floor hard. Dorado quickly rolls him over, and as security begin to storm the aisle, he hops back up onto the railing. Cameras all over the arena flash as he raises his arms in the air.] DD: Come on, security! What's Dorado going to do here?! [The crowd gasps in horror as Dorado launches himself with a forward somersault, landing hard with his leg across Carmazzi's throat! Huge heel pop!] DD: GOLDEN GUILLOTINE TO THE FLOOR! BS: My god, both men have to be broken in half, Don! [After a moment or two, the shock of the move has sunk in, and a chant of "HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!" breaks out in the Garden. Four security guards reach Dorado, who is slowly pulling himself back to his feet.] BS: Dorado had to have jarred his spine badly there, Don! DD: Forget Dorado -- what about Carmazzi?! He's not moving! [Security try to pull Dorado away from the prone Carmazzi, and suddenly the crowd is on its feet again!] DD: Here comes Orin LeBlanc! [The burly Canadian bursts through the curtain at the top of the aisle and literally throws himself into the air, trying to scatter the four security guards dragging Dorado back up the aisle. The crowd go crazy as LeBlanc gets his hands on Dorado, pounding and pounding and pounding and pounding and pounding away with right hand after right hand after right hand after right hand! Huge pop!] DD: "The Lynx" has his issues with Dorado too -- and thank goodness he's out here. Paul Driscoll's still just standing in the ring up here in front of us -- he hasn't lifted a finger! [The four security personnel regroup and two each try to pull Dorado and LeBlanc apart. The crowd jeer as they are pulled apart -- and then cheer wildly again when LeBlanc bursts free from his captors and launches himself at Dorado again!] DD: This is all very well, but we need to get medical attention out here for Vinny Carmazzi -- he's still not moved a muscle since he took that Golden Guillotine. Folks, we need to take a commercial break. We'll be right back after these messages. [As security again separate Dorado and LeBlanc, fade to commercials.] [Fade back to a shot of the announce table, where Ditka and Shakespeare sit with their headsets on.] DD: Welcome back to RAMPAGE! Before the break we saw a brutal blind-side attack on Vinny Carmazzi as he was making his way down to the ring to face "Pistol" Paul Driscoll. [Cut to footage captioned "BEFORE THE BREAK", showing Dorado running up behind Carmazzi, leaping onto the steel crowd barrier, then launching himself off the barrier with a springboard crescent kick, felling Carmazzi. Dorado flips Carmazzi over, then leaps back to the railing, raises his hands in the air, and launches himself with a forward somersault legdrop onto the throat of Carmazzi.] DD: "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado attacked Carmazzi from behind, hitting his Golden Guillotine on the submission specialist. [The footage shows Orin LeBlanc running out to make the save, and security dragging LeBlanc and Dorado away from each other and back up the aisle.] DD: Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc came out here to make the save, but he was too late to prevent the damage being done. [The footage is now captioned "DURING THE BREAK." A pair of EMTs come down the aisle with a gurney and a back-board, accompanied by a worried-looking RCW President Daniel Spreadbury. The EMTs fit Carmazzi with a neck collar and slide him onto the back-board, then lift the back-board onto the gurney and wheel Carmazzi out of the arena, the fans hushed.] DD: The paramedics were clearly concerned that Carmazzi may have suffered head or neck injuries, and have taken every precaution wish his care. [Cut to a backstage shot of the paramedics wheeling the gurney towards a waiting ambulance in the parking structure at the Rose Garden. A number of production staff and wrestlers can be seen in the background.] DD: This is live, folks. Carmazzi is about to be transferred to a local medical facility for full evaluation and treatment. [RCW President Daniel Spreadbury watches as Carmazzi is loaded into the ambulance, and the paramedics close the doors. The ambulance pulls away, and RCW President Daniel Spreadbury turns to face the camera.] DD: I believe we can speak to the RCW President now. Mr. President, can you hear me? DS: I can hear you, Don. DD: What can you tell us about Vinny Carmazzi's condition? DS: At this time, I can't tell you anything for certain. He's going to the hospital now, and we'll know more within an hour or two. He was conscious but not especially lucid. I'm not a doctor, but I'm certain he has suffered some kind of head injury, the nature of which will become clear later tonight. DD: You can't be happy with the actions of Nolan Dorado here tonight. DS: To put it mildly, Don. We love competition here in RCW. We encourage rivalry. We foster conflict. But it's possible to go too far. That's why we have instituted our "three strikes" policy on running interference, and why we have tightened up security starting tonight. DD: With all due respect, Mr. President, your new tighter security wasn't able to protect Vinny Carmazzi here tonight. DS: No, Don, it wasn't, and I will be expecting a full report from Dennis "Griff" Griffing about that. As for Nolan Dorado, he and his valet have been ejected from the arena, given an instant fine of $10,000, and we will discuss further action after we have dealt with the most pressing matter, which is ensuring Vinny Carmazzi gets the treatment he needs. DD: And what of Orin LeBlanc? DS: Orin LeBlanc has also been ejected from the arena tonight to ensure no further conflict between him and Nolan Dorado. He won't face a fine or any further action, but I impressed on him that he needs to channel his rage in the appropriate direction -- that is, the ring. DD: Will Carmazzi's match with Paul Driscoll be rescheduled? DS: Let's not worry about that right now, Don. Let's concern ourselves with making sure Vinny Carmazzi isn't seriously injured. DD: Thank you, Mr. President. [Spreadbury walks out of shot, and we cut back to the announce table.] DD: Well, Billy, you never want to see one of RCW's great competitors taken to the hospital in an ambulance. BS: Definitely not, Don. Dorado went too far tonight. We can only hope that Vinny Carmazzi isn't seriously injured. [Cut to a shot of the ring, which has been cleared of personnel and there is some kind of blue rug on the canvas. A desk is in the middle of the ring, along with a couple of chairs to the side of it, Letterman or Leno style.] DD: Folks, you see it as well as I do. There's some kind of set that's been placed in the ring, like a talk show or something, and I don't see anything like that on our schedule. I have no idea what's about to take place. BS: Maybe a late addition... [The arena lights darken...] DD: We're about to find out. BS: It sure ain't the Wallopin' Wallaby Welcome. [Suddenly, the loudspeakers blare, and the crowd rises to its feet as the theme from "High Plains Drifter" plays over the loudspeakers.] DD: Wait a minute! Could that be Brody Thunder? I'd be quite surprised to see him back here, after the greeting he received from Owen Curtis on the last RAMPAGE. It's not that Thunder would be scared, just disgusted. BS: Yes, but you did hear Thunder say, in exclusive remarks for the last On The Wire, that Owen Curtis needs to watch out. DD: Owen Curtis remains suspended... though he was SUPPOSED to appear tonight. The remarks by Charlie Chesapeake tonight did nothing to clear up whether he actually will. Maybe this is to do with him. [A large, familiar, jagged logo appears on the Rose Garden giant screen... to a huge pop!] /\______________/\ /XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX/ /XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX/ \/====/XXXX/====\/ /XXXX/_ /XXXXXX/ ==XXXX/_ /XXXXX/ ==XXX/ lX/ l/ DD: That's Thunder's logo! That's... BS: No, it isn't. ["High Plains Drifter" screeches to a halt, as script-like wring begins to superimpose itself over the giant "T" ... until the meaning is clear.] /\______________/\ /XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX/ /XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX/ \/====/XXXX/====\/ /XXXX/_ ____ _ _ _ ____ ____ ____ /XXXXXX/ ____ _ _ ___ _ _ |__/ | |\ | | __ | | |___ ==XXXX/_ |__/ | | | |__| | \ | | \| |__] |__| | /XXXXX/ | \ |__| | | | ==XXX/ lX/ l/ with Owen Curtis DD: Indeed, that's NOT Thunder's logo. BS: Well, it is, but Owen Curtis has vandalized it. DD: I was told before the show that indeed Brody Thunder is not in the building, but Owen had me for a minute there. That's not the big news, though. It appears that now he has his own show, for the love of God. BS: Gotta be the lawsuit. Reminds me of a Shakespeare quote. DD: "First thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers"? BS: Truer words were never said. ["Would I Lie to You?" by the Eurhythmics begins to play.] BS: Hey, I remember this song! [And, indeed, Owen Curtis -- wearing a pinstriped charcoal grey suit, with blue and gold striped tie, walks through the entrance portal to the thunderous boos of the crowd!] # Would I lie to you? # Would I lie to you honey? # Now would I say something that wasn't true # I'm asking you, sugar, would I lie-ie-ie to you? [Owen reaches the ring, as the music dies down -- but the displeasure of the crowd does not. Owen produces a cordless mic from somewhere...] OTC: WELCOME... to the Ring of Truth. I'm Owen Curtis. [The crowd continues booing.] OTC: Well, look at this. How predictable! You folks are booing and you haven't even heard what I have to say! You're prejudiced against the Truth! You don't even want to HEAR the Truth! [The volume increases.] DD: If Owen wanted to quiet them down, that wasn't the way to do it. OTC: SHUT UP! SHUT UP! Or you won't get to hear how my lawsuit was settled... nor will you get to hear why I so deservedly attacked Brody Thunder on the last show! [More thunderous boos rain down upon the ring... as do various crumpled cups. Not all of them empty.] OTC: The next one of you bitches who tosses a beer cup my way is gonna eat an Obituary! So help me, I'm gonna come out there! BS: He will, too. DD: I don't know it would be that smart. BS: I didn't say it was. [Owen, at wit's end, finally reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pocket tape recorder. He says...] OTC: This will hurt someone. DD: A Budd Dwyer reference? Now that's in poor taste! BS: I just don't get it. A tape recorder? [The crowd, unimpressed, just boos even louder. If that's possible.] BS: These news people are fine when they're safe in their studios, but put them in front of a crowd, on a big stage... [Owen spreads his arms wide -- tape recorder in one hand, microphone in another. Slowly, he brings them together -- causing a crescendo of screeching white noise coming from the recorder. It's a thousand times worse than a thousand nails on a thousand chalkboards.] BS: OUCH! My ears! DD: Someone please make it stop. [The noise continues, as the camera shows audience members clutching their ears in excruciating pain -- relieved only when Owen hits "stop" on the tape.] OTC: Now, folks, you can either hear the Truth, or you can hear static. It's your choice. DD: So far, I prefer static. Boy, this has been a worthwhile segment. BS: You said it. [The crowd continues booing... just not quite as loud as before. Finally they settle down to hear.] OTC: You have chosen wisely. And that's good, because tonight I am pleased to announce that if you want to watch a talk show, you need no longer assault your brain cells with the inane worthlessness of the Wallopin' Wallaby Whackoff, starring Sweatsock the Irresponsible. Under terms of my lawsuit settlement, you will be blessed -- WHENEVER and WHEREVER I deem appropriate -- with the Ring of Truth. That's right -- my new show will be on whenever I want. And since I want it now, I'm wasting no time. It starts now. [He walks around the desk, takes a seat in the chair, lets the audience comprehend what that means.] DD: Well... I have to hand it to Charlie Chesapeake. Those are pretty favorable terms for Owen Curtis. BS: He's not done talking yet, either. [Owen resumes... ] OTC: Now, it's true that most talk shows are nothing without guests. With this show, the reverse is true. The guests are nothing without this show. And so, in order to best accentuate the talents, if any, of the Rip City Wrestling roster, it was agreed that I, Owen Curtis, shall have the right to conscript ANY Rip City Wrestling employee onto this show to be interviewed for promotional purposes! FINALLY! It's like the press having subpoena power, which unfortunately hasn't happened, but this is the next best thing! And like everything the press does, it's for society's own good, or in this case, RCW's own good. And speaking of that, let me now introduce my first guest. DD: This is certainly a curveball. He has a guest? Let's hope he hasn't abused his conscription powers. BS: Perish the thought. OTC: Ladies and gentlemen... my first guest on Ring of Truth is a veteran of wrestling. His talent is much acclaimed. What I mean by that is, he's terribly overrated. For one thing, he's not smart enough to realize the repercussions of the contracts and legal agreements that he signs, such as the one he signed earlier today, which allows me to subpoena ANY employee of Rip City Wrestling onto this show -- including him. Ladies and gentlemen... [Rather than dragging out syllables, he says the name deadpan.] ...Dan Spreadbury. ["The Mob Rules" by Black Sabbath plays as a steamed looking RCW President marches out through the entrance portal.] DD: I don't believe it, but evidently, it's true. Owen Curtis has been given the right to draft any RCW employee onto his show, and he's using it to bring out the RCW President. Billy Shakespeare, do you think Spreadbury realized Owen could do this? BS: I think he underestimated the sheer unmitigated gall possessed by Owen Curtis... as if that's possible following "The Truth's" despicable attack on Brody Thunder last week. [Spreadbury arrives in the ring, and Owen is out from behind the desk to greet him. Spreadbury shuns him, walking right past to sit in the chair farthest from the desk. Owen retreats to his former position behind the desk.] OTC: Welcome to the Show, Dan. I -- [Spreadbury interrupts.] DS: If I may say a word on YOUR show, Owen, let me state that I'm here because I'm contractually obliged to do this. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. And don't think, Owen, that you have free rein to treat me however you wish. The Board of Directors is watching you, and won't hesitate to take action again -- and defend that action in court if necessary. Now, let's get this over with. What's your first question? OTC: Defend your action? Sure, like you did the last time. Hah. Anyway, Dan, I'm not your enemy, despite our mutual rhetoric of hostility. You will see. Just look at my actions. I actually did you a favor two weeks ago in clearing the ring of garbage, and I'm going to do you another one now. You see, I am _so_ good natured that I've decided you and I are going to switch functions. In other words, you may be the guest, but you will ask me questions and I will answer them. Any question you want, just come out with it. No strings attached. I know there's things you want to know. You're a curious member of the public, right? Go ahead. Turn the tables on the press. Grill away. But hurry on with it. I don't have all day. What -- can't you think of a question? DS: Owen... you know my question. I have only one, and it is simply this. WHY... Owen... why did you deliver your unprovoked attack on "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder two weeks ago, when he was my special guest on RAMPAGE? DD: That's what I want to know. BS: Me too, although I'm not sure ANY explanation could excuse what Owen did. DD: We're about to see. [Spreadbury taps his foot, staring at Owen, who cocks his head and makes like he's considering the question very, very seriously.] DD: Owen, taking his time to answer. [Finally, after an excruciatingly looooooong wait, he answers...] OTC: No comment. [Spreadbury steams.] DS: You said I could ask anything. We talked about this before we went on. Why did you attack Brody? OTC: No comment. DS: This is ridiculous. Why am I giving this TV time? This isn't going anywhere. Just answer me, Owen. Why did you attack the "Lone Wolf?" [Owen, waits, thinks it over, shifts his chin, and says...] OTC: No comment. DS: Don't you have an answer to the question? You attacked one of the biggest badasses the sport has ever seen! There HAS to be a reason! And these people want to know! [Owen thinks.] DD: They certainly DO want to know! BS: I'll go up there and see that he answers! DD: Stay right here. [Finally, Owen says...] OTC: No comment. DS: You're not much for Truth, Owen, unless you answer. What are you, some kind of hypocrite? [Owen looks at Dan with a "Didn't you hear me?" expression on his face.] OTC: No comment, no comment, no comment! DAMN, it feels good to say that! You see, this is what I get all day as a reporter. You ask some bureaucrat why the sewer rates are going up -- no comment. You ask WalMart why the heck they'd want to move to Hillsboro -- no comment. You ask the cops why they shot an unarmed man -- no comment. And WE'RE the pests? The MEDIA are in the wrong? PEOPLE! Whenever someone in the media makes a mistake, WHO tells you they're in the wrong? THE MEDIA! Who tells you when the media's biased? THE MEDIA! REPORTERS! REPORTERS LIKE ME! We provide ALL your information! You think you can critique us? WE are the ones supplying the insight you need to do that! Without our reporting, you wouldn't even KNOW what to say! You can't get outside us! You can't get around us! So don't hate the media... hate the people we're reporting on. Namely, yourselves. [He pauses to catch his breath.] OTC: You wanted to know why I attacked Brody Thunder. Well, Dan, unlike everyone else, I'm part of the media. I'm responsive, I answer questions, and I'm going to answer that one. I did it -- to make Rip City Wrestling better. And what's more, Dan, I did it for you. You see, I remember when you started advertising this place. You said, "This is not the Double Eye." You said this would be a place where we create new legends, not trade on past glories. And so I came out of retirement, NOT to trade on the past, because in professional wrestling, I really don't have one. My injuries deprived me of the past that I deserved. Rather, I signed up here to build a future. Courageously, at the age of 31, despite my injuries, I decided to come out here and compete against the youngest and brightest, because I knew I could do well, and you know what? I was very much right. I made it to the title match, and I was the only one without a reused whore for a valet to do it! Others fought hard too, but mostly, _I_ was the one who delivered on _YOUR_ promises, Dan, with mat-based action that was second to none. Everything was going great. Yes, there was the title match loss, but I was ready to win it on the second try. But lo and behold, out of nowhere, in just the fourth week we're on the air with RAMPAGE, what did you do, Dan? You pulled a ratings stunt. You did something called "hot-shotting". You brought out Brody Thunder, dusted off a freaking EAGLES record, for God's sake, and you gave us a sepia-toned slide show from the olden, golden days of yore, telling us all about how great things WAS back in the day. Now, I will grant you, Thunder is a legend. Thunder is a God. Thunder is legendary. Being that Truth is what I am and what I represent, I know that. I _do_ my research, Dan, and Brody Thunder is all of those things. Or he was. But what he is not, is a current competitor. You can tease the audience all you want, Dan, and you can say this guy is ready to come back, but you know and I know, and we all really know, that the man is retired. He's playing golf, roping steers, chasing queers, watching Westerns, dealing stud to boys named Sue, and doing all the other things that retired cowboys do. And so when you dusted him off and brought him out to ring the Pavlov bell and make the dogs drool --- IT. MADE. ME. SICK. You see, Dan, you cheapened your own words. And you cheapened everything that everyone here has done for you. You gave up on the present and the future for 15 minutes of shucking and jiving with a used-to-be. [The crowd boos, disagreeing vehemently.] OTC: You said, by your actions, that you don't think what you have here can draw a crowd. Well, Dan, I'm here to tell you that you are WRONG. And you're going to get a chance to see how wrong you are, because you're going to have to draw butts in seats with what you have. That's right. Brody isn't coming back, Danny Boy... and let me explain by decoding his little interview from On The Wire. He said I'd better watch it everywhere I go. Why would I need to do that? I'm right here. He knows where I am. All he has to do is come back here, but you can see from his remarks that's the one thing he's not doing. [By now, Owen is out from behind the desk, addressing the camera directly -- as if talking to someone.] OTC: You know, Brody -- I know you're out there listening -- here's a message. You say my mistake was not killing you? THAT, my friend, was no mistake. It was intentional. If I'd wanted, Brody, I could have ended your career. And since you've already done that to yourself, what I mean is, I could have eliminated ANY chance you'd be in ANY condition to come back. I have the technical ability. Just one more Obituary would have done it. Two would have sealed it for sure. Three? You'd be in the ground. But that wasn't what I wanted. What I wanted, is that you DO come back, just so I can prove, again and again, that I can do to you what I did two weeks ago, anytime I want, again and again. If you come back to Portland, the town where you made your reputation, I will batter you, I will bloody you, I will dominate you, I will tie you in knots, I will wrestle CIRCLES around you -- and squares, and trapezoids, and parallelograms. And when I am done, I will pin you. Why? Well, maybe it's because I am the more flexible athlete and the superior technician right here in this ring, and I'm wrestling for the now. Any city in the country, any high school gym, any arena, any Veterans' hall, any playground, any ring, any mat, anytime, anywhere. Just show up and back up what you're saying. But you won't do that. You don't have the balls anymore. All you have is a bad accent and a bunch of cowboy cliches, and -- let's not forget -- a plaque with a Double Eye belt mounted on it, with a dent that's shaped like your head! I, on the other hand, have the Truth -- and let me tell you, friend. Truth is everything. Without Truth, you have nothing, and the Truth, Thunder, is that you are done. If you come back, you already are beaten, and you know it. So sit in that saloon in Deadwood, South Dakota, or whatever two-bit, one-horse, no-toilet town in the Midwest or the Rockies it is where you hang out. Just wait there for that chance to ambush me, when I wander in from the desert or the range looking for a cold one. You'll be waiting forever -- but that's just how you want it. You know that Portland may have loved you for one night, but this is a sophisticated, urban city, and you'd never impress these crowds on an ongoing basis. Dan brought you back for one night only because he knew that was all he could milk. Jealous? Me? Jealous of you? Sorry, Brody. I can see being jealous of your past, but not your future. I'm not jealous, I'm just disgusted, Brody, with you AND Dan. With you, Brody, for leaving the stage yet still hogging the spotlight. And with you, Dan, for making it happen. [He addresses the audience.] OTC: I know, dear viewers, that it's hard to accept the idea Brody's glory days are gone. And it's even harder to realize Dan doesn't believe in the talent here. But I do, and I acted on it. I realized what needed to be done -- I did it -- and I would do it again. And that... is the cold, hard, Truth. [The lights over the ring dim and "Would I Lie To You?" plays as Curtis leaves the ring to the jeers of the crowd. Cut to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: I simply do not know what Owen Curtis is trying to achieve, Billy Shakespeare. Doesn't Curtis recognise that using established stars to draw in casual viewers, then giving those viewers a reason to stick around and become hardcore viewers, helps grow the audience, grow the live event gates, and ultimately put more money in his pocket? BS: Curtis is blinded by his own self-importance, Don. It's as simple as that. DD: I'm sorry to say that I don't think we've heard the end of this by any means, folks. We have to take a short break -- when we come back, it'll be time for tonight's main event. [Fade to commercials.] [Fade back from commercials to a shot of the now-cleared ring.] DD: Welcome back, folks. We have taken our last commercial break -- it's time for tonight's main event here on RCW RAMPAGE! ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / RCW CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ Johnny Pleasence vs. "Your Hero" Danny Daniels [Sy Simmons stands in the ring and brings his microphone to his lips again.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the following encounter scheduled for one fall, and is tonight's MAIN EVENT... [Big pop!] SS: ...and it is for the RCW CHAMPIONSHIP! [Big pop!] SS: Introducing first, the challenger... ["Afternoon Delight" by the Starland Vocal Band plays as the spotlight shines on the entranceway. Danny Daniels steps into the spotlight, wraparound shades on his face, long blonde locks reaching to his shoulders, the 'YOUR HERO' yellow t-shirt over his chest, and the replica title belt over his left his shoulder.] D'YH'D: GREETINGS AND SALUTATIONS! [And a cordless microphone.] DD: We have to hide those microphones backstage, Billy Shakespeare. D'YH'D: You know... I saw that... Someone was in the kitchen with Dinah. Someone was in the kitchen. I know. I know. Someone was in the kitchen with Dinah. And that someone was... You, Jerry Pleasence! And why were you there?