___ ______ __ _, _, _ ___ _,_ __, _ _ _ __, __, / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / \ |\ | | |_| |_ | | | |_) |_ / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / \ / | \| | | | | |/\| | | \ | /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~ Thursday 11 May 2006 [The thrashing metal of "Bodies" by Drowning Pool continues as we fade through to the RCW studio, panning down from the big blue RCW logo high on the set to the glass-topped desk, against which leans Don Ditka, wearing his RCW sports jacket and clutching a few sheets of paper. As the lights in the studio rise and the music fades, Ditka looks up at the camera and smiles.] DD: Good evening, everybody, and welcome to RCW On The Wire, the world of professional wrestling in 60 minutes! I'm your host, the voice of RCW, Don Ditka, and over the next hour we'll be looking back at the events of last week in the Rose Garden, looking ahead to the matches coming your way next Thursday night in RCW RAMPAGE, and we'll also have a very special guest -- the "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder responds to Owen "Truth" Curtis, right here *live* in the studio. So we're ready for the hot tag -- let's jump in and stomp a mudhole in our first feature. ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / << << << << << << REWIND << << << << << << /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Cut to footage captioned "LAST THURSDAY NIGHT", showing Lord Byron and RCW President Daniel Spreadbury making their way to the ring, both dressed to the nines. Over this footage we hear Ditka's voiceover:] DD: What a night it was in the Garden, folks. If you missed last week's RCW RAMPAGE, you missed the most explosive hour of wrestling anywhere in the world. And what a way to kick it all off -- the return to the United States of former Portland wrestling great, the incomparable Lord Byron. [Cut back to the studio, where Ditka is now sat behind the glass-topped desk, the plasma screen behind him to his left showing a still of Byron and Spreadbury in the ring on RAMPAGE.] DD: RCW President Daniel Spreadbury invited Lord Byron to the Rose Garden to encourage some mainstream media coverage of the big announcement about RCW's first ever pay-per-view -- about which more later on tonight. Byron's supposed one-off appearance, however, turned sour -- as in *whiskey* sour -- later in the night. And we'll talk about that much more later on, too, including finding out where Byron has been for the past eight years. But for now, let's move on to talk about the incredible wrestling action that went down last Thursday night. [Cut to footage of Johnny Pleasence facing "Your Hero" Danny Daniels... Pleasence and Daniels brawl in the center of the ring... Pleasence drops Daniels with a snap DDT... Daniels rolls out of the ring and is met by a face-rake from Matilda... Pleasence drops Daniels chest-first on the crowd barriers... Daniels is sent careening over the ringsteps... Pleasence chops away at Daniels's chest... Pleasence suplexes Daniels on the thin ringside padding... Pleasence rolls Daniels back into the ring and hits a Brainbuster... Matilda tries to enter the ring, and Pleasence capitalises on the distraction with a low blow to Daniels... Pleasence with a backdrop driver on Daniels... Pleasence with the Pleasantries from England elbowdrop on Daniels...] DD: It was RCW Champion Johnny Pleasence's first ever defence of his title as he faced "Your Hero" Danny Daniels in a tremendous match. Daniels took one hell of a beating from the champion throughout, but showed that underneath his goofy exterior beats the heart of a real competitor. Pleasence, as ever, used every trick in the book, his valet Matilda getting involved on numerous occasions -- but Daniels somehow rose above it. [As the match continues, the crowd chants for Daniels -- who blocks a punch from Pleasence! Daniels unloads with headbutts on Pleasence... Daniels hits a big clothesline... Daniels with a powerslam on Pleasence... Daniels with a vertical suplex... Daniels goes to launch an elbowdrop from the second turnbuckle, but Pleasence rolls out of the ring and tries to escape... Paul Driscoll arrives in the aisle, accompanied by security personnel, and Pleasence flips him the bird before returning to the ring... Daniels with a running kneelift to the champion... Daniels hits his TOODLES~! diving headbutt from the second buckle... Pleasence just kicks out... Matilda hands Pleasence a chair, and Daniels ducks out of the way of an attempted chairshot, the chair bouncing off the ropes and hitting Pleasence in the face! Pleasence hits Daniels at the second time of asking, then hits the Manchester Driver...] DD: What a comeback from Danny Daniels in the latter stages of this match. He had Pleasence rocking to the extent that the champion considered bailing out on the match -- only for number one contender "Pistol" Paul Driscoll to make his way out, the presence of the big Texan being enough to send Pleasence back to the ring to finish the match. In the end, Pleasence needed a steel chair and the Manchester Driver to finish off Danny Daniels, who on another night just might have beaten the arrogant British champion. But as always with Johnny Pleasence, the story didn't end at the end of the match. [After the match, Pleasence blasts Daniels in the face with the RCW Championship belt... Paul Driscoll has seen enough, and charges the ring... but he is stopped in his tracks by Ryan Faith, who drops him with the Test of Faith! Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Pleasence's post-match attack on Daniels and the set-up of Driscoll by Pleasence and his new best friend Ryan Faith were frankly disgusting. This kind of conduct isn't becoming of an RCW Champion, and this is the second show running in which Ryan Faith has come from the crowd to attack somebody -- three weeks ago it was Madrock the Irrepressible, and last week it was Driscoll. Incredibly, Pleasence and Faith have escaped punishment under the new penalties for interfering in others' matches, because the match was over by the time Faith attacked Pleasence. I, for one, urge the RCW Board of Directors to close this loophole and hit these treacherous men where it really hurts -- in their pockets. For Paul Driscoll, where it was really hurting was his head. He immediately lobbied RCW officials for a match against Ryan Faith, which will happen next week on RAMPAGE -- but in a suspicious turn of events, none other than RCW Champion Johnny Pleasence will be the special guest referee in that match. We caught up with Driscoll as he received treatment after the close of last week's show. [Cut to the trainer's room after the latest RAMPAGE. Sitting on a table is "Pistol" Paul Driscoll, wearing only jeans and looking like he's seeing stars. The person, presumably a doctor, in front of him shines a pen light into his eyes while moving his index finger.] Doctor: Don't move your head, follow my finger. [The #1 contender just can't help it though, and he moves his head.] Doctor: I said _don't move_! Once again, follow my finger with your eyes. Don't move your head. PD: Gotcha. [The Texan tries really, REALLY hard to not move his head, but he can't do it. He moves his head to the left and then with his right hand bats away the finger. The doctor walks away frustrated, as Driscoll falls back on the table.] PD: Ryan Faith... [Paul sets his jaw, focusing on every word.] PD: ...you strike me as someone who needs advice, bad. You let a twat lead ya 'round be yer nose, an' ya ran right into Johnny Pleasence. An' what? Now yer his muscle? Doin' his dirty work while he smirks in the background? B'lieve me son, 'tween me an' Pleasence ain't a place ya wanna be. He's got somethin' that I want, simple as that. An' now yer his gopher? Jus' how dumb are you, anyway? [Driscoll pushes himself up on his elbows, and then carefully touches his head with his left hand.] PD: If ya couldn't tell already, dumpin' me on my head seems to have rejiggered some of the circuits. Got the doctor shinin' lights in my eye and tellin' me to move my head to watch the goddamn finger, because I gotta get cleared fer the next show. Lucky fer you, next show I got you one on one. So knockin' me silly may have given ya a brief advantage, but I got two weeks to screw it back on. Rest assured, in two weeks I'll be seein' clearly and walkin' straight ahead. An' it don't matter who the special guest referee is. In a straight match, in a street fight, in a damn parkin' lot, it don't matter. I'm gonna bleed yer ass dry, Ryan Faith. There ain't gonna be no let up, there ain't gonna be no mercy. It's balls to the wall, must be a winner... an' I'm tellin' you that you just ain't got the fists or the guts to beat me a in a street fight. An' if yer dependin' on yer new best friend to help ya out? Ya may as well count on gettin' a size thirteen up yer ass so far it knocks out three o' yer teeth. God hisself, let alone Johnny Pleasence, couldn't stop me from tearin' ya to pieces. An' if ol' John boy tries his luck I'll make sure that he ain't the only one who feels like he's livin' underwater. [Driscoll tilts his head back, slightly in pain as he takes a breath.] PD: Two weeks, Faith. Jesus had forty days, you got fourteen. But I gaurantee ya yer faith ain't gonna help ya, when that bell rings. [Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: We'll hear from co-conspirators Ryan Faith and Johnny Pleasence later in the hour when we look ahead to next week's RAMPAGE in detail -- for now, let's move on. [The screen behind Ditka shows the faces of Paul Driscoll and Vinny Carmazzi.] DD: Paul Driscoll himself was scheduled to put his number one contendership on the line against Vinny Carmazzi, but that match never happened. Let's take a look. [Cut to footage of Paul Driscoll waiting in the ring for Vinny Carmazzi to make his entrance. Vinny Carmazzi makes his entrance, keeping his eyes on the ring. As the fans erupt with a big heel pop, we hear the original commentary:] 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! As LeBlanc and Dorado continue to brawl in the footage, we hear Ditka's live voice-over:] DD: Folks, this is precisely the kind of situation that the RCW Board of Directors imposed their new security policy in the hopes of avoiding. But despite Dorado and, perhaps unfairly, LeBlanc being fined $10,000, the real tragedy here is that Vinny Carmazzi was seriously injured in this incident. [Footage is shown of Carmazzi being placed onto a back-board, then onto a gurney, and wheeled out of the arena and into a waiting ambulance, other wrestlers and the RCW President alike looking on with concern. Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Vinny Carmazzi suffered concussion, bruised vertebrae, and was knocked unconscious by Nolan Dorado's assault. He's going to be out of action for the next several weeks and has been sent home to New Jersey to recuperate. But before he made his way back to Jersey, Carmazzi taped the following comments after his discharge from hospital. [The picture fades in. It's night, and we're outside, so not too much is visible in this shot. A wing of a well-lit hospital in the background, but most of the light doesn't travel all the way to the bench next to the busy street. The million dollar and state-of-the-art sign proclaiming the names of the hospital's benefactors also shines little light on the rickety metal bench and frayed bandages some thirty feet away. The bandages try to hold together a man's head as he sits and waits. A bus stop late at night, two days after being knocked unconscious by Nolan Dorado. It wasn't how Vinny Carmazzi expected RAMPAGE to turn out. A win over his hated rival and guaranteed RCW title match never came to be. A concussion, bruised vertebrae, no memory of the event, and no ride back home is what he has. His elbows on his lap, Vinny holds his damaged head in his hands. His eyes are closed. The pain is obvious.] VC: *sigh* [He shakes his head ever so slowly, as to try to avoid causing more injury to his neck.] VC: That was the worst day in my twelve years in this sport. I've been hurt before. But never with so much to lose. [Out of discomfort, his head becomes still.] VC: Shut that bastard Driscoll up once and for all. Make him tap and take away his title shot. Then go on and beat the champ. It was all within reach. I could almost touch it. Feel it. It was so close. [His hand leaves his bandaged temple and begins to reach out. He catches himself in the act and pulls it back.] VC: Come out of the fog and it's Friday. Find out the match never happened. Dorado blindsided me. Knocked me out cold. Somewhere between the migraines, told that I won't be cleared to wrestle for close to a month. A goddamn somersault legdrop. [He sighs again, but stays very still. His head remains down.] VC: Could understand if this happened in a match. But no. From behind. You weren't even scheduled to be there that night. Face to face is something you don't have in you. [A truck blares its horn as it runs right under a red light. The excruciating noise causes Vinny to flinch. He's equally as uncomfortable trying to get back into his original position.] VC: I know this because it's the second time. Nailed me from behind with a chair your first night here. Nearly ended my career last week in another blindside. You were probably flying high when I was being carted out on a board. [Vinny struggles to remember those moments but can't.] VC: And if I had broken my neck, probably would've made your little celebration that much sweeter, huh? Anything to repair that fragile ego. Keep your woman happy. Make up for the fact that I made you tap out. Almost twice. If not for Driscoll. [Another searing pain rips across his bandaged head. He winces, but still doesn't open his eyes. Another deep breath.] VC: The bruises, the cuts, the concussion, I'll heal from those. [He tries to collect his scattered thoughts. The pain burns across his face.] VC: Knowing that you robbed me of everything I ever hoped for? And did it like a miserable little coward? No, I'm not going to recover from that anytime soon. A piece of me will always remain on that aisle going down to the ring. And it's there because of you. Because you couldn't handle me beating you one night. [Vinny grits his teeth from the pain.] VC: So here's what's going to happen the first moment I get. The first time we fought, I just wanted to win. The second time we fought, I just wanted to make you tap out. The next time we meet.... [He shuts his eyes even tighter, a grimace covering his entire face.] VC: ...I'm going to break your goddamn arm. [A pause for the benefit of his intended audience. Wherever he is.] VC: I'm going to see if I can lean forward just enough to pop both your shoulder and elbow out at the exact same time. Unlike other matches, this one won't be about winning. Nor will it be about causing you pain. [Vinny stops for a moment to deal with his own.] VC: It'll be about taking all your hopes and dreams away. In the blink of an eye. [Through all the anguish, he finally opens his eyes.] VC: And you never knowing what hit you. [Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: We'll have to wait a few weeks to see whether Vinny Carmazzi can make good on this promise. But the rivalry between these three men -- Carmazzi, Dorado, and LeBlanc -- is going to have to be settled sooner or later. As we'll hear later on in the show, Dorado and LeBlanc will be in the same ring together next Thursday night. Folks, we have to take a short break. When we come back, we'll continue our run-down of last week's RCW RAMPAGE event. [Fade to commercials.] [Fade back to footage, captioned "RCW RAMPAGE - 4 May 2006", of Ryan Faith wrestling Madrock the Irrepressible... Faith makes his entrance with his new valet Dinah... Faith lunges in as Madrock enters the ring, knocking him down with a double leg takedown... Faith unloads on Madrock's legs with a series of kicks... Faith slows Madrock with forearm uppercuts, then backs him into a corner and unleashes another volley of kicks... Faith tries to lift Madrock for the Test of Faith, but Madrock powers out and attempts the Coming Down Abbott's Peak, only for Faith to wriggle out... Madrock hits a modified sit-out spinebuster on Faith... Madrock hits the Steamroller on Faith... Dinah hits a hotshot on Madrock, leaping from the ring apron... Faith hits a snap DDT on the big Australian... Faith applies a Texas cloverleaf on Madrock... the crowd encourage Madrock, and he powers out! Dinah pulls Faith out of the path of a charging Madrock, who eats turnbuckle... Madrock goes after Dinah, only for Faith to attack him from behind... Danny Daniels makes his way down to the ring as Madrock has Faith in the giant swing... Madrock releases Faith, who collides with Danny Daniels on the apron... Faith and Madrock brawl to the outside, where Faith hits Madrock repeatedly around the head with a steel chair... Faith hits the Test of Faith on Madrock and gets the pinfall. Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Welcome back, folks. What a great match last Thursday night between Ryan Faith and Madrock the Irrepressible. Faith -- revitalised by the arrival of his new valet, Dinah -- put on a clinic of how to slow down a big man, going for Madrock's legs to try and neutralise his power and size advantage. Madrock, for his part, showed us that he's as tough as he is strong. Faith had to resort to the use of a steel chair -- and a distraction provided by Dinah -- to pick up the duke. And, you will be unsurprised to hear, with both of RCW's top merchandisers in the building at the same time, Danny Daniels couldn't help but get himself involved in the match, coming out to try and hawk what was apparently the last-ever "YOUR HERO" t-shirt, which ended in disaster. # You spin me right round, baby # Right round like a record, baby # Right round round round # (I want your love!) # You spin me right round, baby # Right round like a record, baby # Right round round round # (I want your looooove!) [Dead or Alive's "You spin me right round" plays as a spinning arm-like object appears on the screen, leaving a circular after-image as it twirls repeatedly. The center remains stationary and appears as little more then a little brown spot: sticking out from that center is what appears to be... a human being! It soon becomes apparent: what we're seeing is a video of Madrock's patented giant swing as filmed from above! The strange after-image effect tacked on to the piece makes the giant swing maneuver look like one big circle on the screen... until the whole thing melds into a close up of Madrock's smiling face, wearing his bandanna, spinning slowly around the screen!] M: All the crazy wallabies... all those crazy patterns ... They're MAKING MY HEAD SPIN!!!!! WOAAAAAAAHH!! # I got to be your friend now, baby # And I would like to move in just a little bit closer # All I know is that to me # You look like you're lots of fun # Open up your lovin' arms # Watch out, here I come! [No one said that the music ever stopped, and come to think of it, we can almost imagine Madrock himself singing those very words, which would be traumatic enough by itself. Image turns (no pun intended) into one of Danny Daniels from last RAMPAGE, charging into the ring with his t-shirts in hand.] M (in voice over): Woah, they're coming in from all sides to get a piece of Madrock's very own Grinning Wallaby bandannas! [The image leads to what it leads: Danny Daniels getting hit in the chest by a flying Ryan Faith, a victim of the giant swing.] M (in voice over): OH OH! This one DIDN'T get a bandanna! Hey kids, can you tell the difference between Ryan Faiff and Madrock's very own headgear? [The image returns to the spinning head of Madrock the Irrepressible.] M: Woah, I say we ask him next week and get the BALL ROLLING! [Madrock's head spins and rolls off the screen! And returns from the other side!] M: Bane uv' Brisbane, monster from Almunster, freak up Abbotts Peak on the Wallopin' Wallaby Welcome show wif yer Zero... DA DONNY DANNELS! Wait wots dis I hear about... imitation shows? DON'T BE FOOLED If I see anymore knockoffs, I'm going to LOSE MY HEAD! [It drops from sight! Then pops back up again, but only peeking out from underneath the screen. His eyes darting back and forth...] M: I'm keepin' an eye on you! [Big wink! Obviously a trippy video montage using what could at best be called 80's screen capture technology... but still a very clear message. Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Folks, as ever, I'm left speechless by the ravings of Madrock the Irrepressible. We also caught up with Danny Daniels after the show -- let's take a look. [The camera fades in to see Danny 'Your Hero' Daniels. Danny's in his usual attire -- wraparound sunglasses, a 'YOUR HERO' yellow t-shirt, his hair hanging off his shoulder, and a grin on his face. Another t-shirt is slung over his left shoulder as he waves.] D'YH'D: Did you know that, in my lengthy RCW career, I've only been pinned ONE TIME! Just once! That's an impressive record, even by MY lofty standards! [Danny flashes a 'thumbs up' at the camera.] D'YH'D: Greetings and Salutations! I'm 'Your Hero', Danny Daniels, a man so nice they named me twice! And after my epic encounter with Jackie Pleasure, I realized it was time to crack that whip. Give the past a slip. Step on a crack. Break YOUR momma's back. Because when a problem comes along, I must whip it. Whip it good. And... [And Danny speaks, the second t-shirt falls off his shoulder. He bends down to pick it up. It unfolds, revealing itself to be the stained shirt from last Rampage. Danny stops speaking and stares at the shirt, not speaking for a moment.] D'YH'D: I.... [Another pause. For once, Danny seems speechless as he stares at the shirt. Finally, he looks away from the shirt and back at the camera.] D'YH'D: I'm pleased to announce that a brand-new SECOND EDITION of the 'YOUR HERO' apparel is being produced, and will be out in a few months. Apparently, the first edition was such a standout that almost every shirt has been sold out. Only one box of first edition shirts remain. This... [He hoists the shirt up for the camera] This is one of the final first edition shirts. Unfortunately, it was damaged, and can't be sold... [Danny sighs morosely] D'YH'D: ...it would have made a good shirt. For one of the thousands of fans who look up to 'Your Hero', and wanted only to look like 'Your Hero'. And it's... ruined, now. Forever. I... I... [Danny seems to choke up, clutching the damaged shirt to his chest.] D'YH'D: Excuse me for a moment. [He walks off to the left. After a minute, we cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Well, folks, you heard it here first -- Madrock the Irrepressible has invited "Your Hero" Danny Daniels to appear on the Wallopin' Wallaby Welcome in the Rose Garden next Thursday night, live on RAMPAGE. Who knows what will happen when the two most, uh, *unique* athletes in RCW meet in the ring -- that is, assuming that Danny Daniels can pull himself out of the funk he's apparently in due to the damage of... a t-shirt. Yes, a t-shirt. [Ditka rolls his eyes as we cut to footage of the Debutants' Brawl Battle Royal... all six combatants charge at the giant Derek Rage, who swats them away... Dave Bryant parks himself out of harm's way in one corner of the ring... David Cross tries to chokeslam Rage, but Rage counters with a belly-to-belly suplex, before himself backing away into another corner of the ring... Rick Marley hits Christian Right with a neckbreaker... Akitoshi Ogawa drops the leg on Marley's throat... Herod goes to attack Rage, but Rage intimidates him into begging off, and Herod backs away into a dropkick from Marley... Marley hits a hurricanrana on Ogawa... Meanwhile, Mark Coleman makes his way out into the aisle.] DD: Kicking things off last week with a bang was the Debutants' Brawl Battle Royal, which saw no fewer than seven RCW competitors make their debuts -- although for one man, Derek Rage, it was perhaps more of a return than a debut. Rage, one half of world-renowned tag team, the Prophets of Rage, stepped back into a Portland ring for the first time in eight years, and immediately made his mark! But as Derek Rage and fellow veteran Dave Bryant took a back seat to allow the younger, less experienced men in the ring to wear each other out, we saw Mark Coleman -- injured three weeks ago at the hands of former King of the Death Match, Akitoshi Ogawa -- make his way out to show Ogawa that he's not going anywhere. [The match continues: Nathan Herod hits the Herod Dynasty Devastator on Marley, then gouges and scratches at him, busting him open... before pressing him above his head and dumping him out of the ring! Ogawa hits the Shunji Street Sweeper on Herod, then eliminates him! Ogawa is hit by a superkick from Dave Bryant, sending him flying out of the ring, eliminating him! David Cross hits Christian Right with the Ashes to Ashes powerbomb, then attempts a superplex -- only for Derek Rage to charge in and toss both men off the top buckle to the outside, eliminating them both!] DD: The eliminations in the match came hard and fast, Herod eliminating top-flight cruiserweight "Showtime" Rick Marley in a disgusting display of brutality, only to be eliminated himself moments later by Ogawa. Ogawa was ousted by the opportunistic Dave Bryant, and Derek Rage scored a double elimination on Christian Right and "The Fallen Angel" Derek Cross to leave him and Bryant as the last men standing. [Rage and Bryant are the last men standing... Rage sends Bryant flying with a dragon screw leg whip... Rage presses Bryant above his head, but Bryant shifts his weight, avoiding elimination... Rage hits Bryant with 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. 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! The bell rings as Bryant is victorious! Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: These two wily ring veterans tore it up, and at the end of the match, it was Bryant who held on to eliminate the man more than a foot taller than him, taking advantage of his lower centre of gravity to flip Rage from the ring. The good news is that we're going to get the chance to see Bryant and Rage in the ring together again on next week's RAMPAGE, as they tag up with Nolan Dorado and Orin LeBlanc respectively. But let's hear from Dave Bryant now -- and he appears to have found himself an ally. [The scene is a simple one -- the winner of the Debutant's Battle Royal, Dave Bryant, standing alongside his valet, Glory. Bryant is wearing a grin a mile wide, and in general just looks damn proud of himself. Glory, clad in her usual not-very-much, stands beside him, wearing a similar smug look.] DB: What did I tell you, Rip City? [The grin actually widens.] DB: I told you that as you left the building that night, that you'd all be saying _my_ name... and what happened? [Bryant pauses, expectantly.] DB: You sure as hell were. You see, I went out that night and I proved to you all that I've still got "it" -- and I proved that, above all else... _wrestling_, in the end, will always prevail. I was in that ring with some of the biggest bastards the industry has seen to date, yet in the end, despite being one of the smallest men in that match? [Bryant chuckles.] DB: _My_ hand was raised... and that lumbering wreck, Derek Rage, was left sputtering, pissed as all hell that he was too thick in the skull to realize that, at nearly every turn, I had him... [The smirk returns.] DB: ...exactly where I wanted hi -- V: Doctor, got a second? [Bryant turns and raises an eyebrow.] DB: Well, well...if it isn't the _champ_. [Johnny Pleasence saunters into the shot with Matilda at his side, ring gear still on, busy smoking a Camel Turkish Gold.] JP: Listen mate, I ain't here to belittle you -- I save that for the idiots. Forget about what happened in Jersey and hell -- I been to Michigan and it ain't pretty. [Pleasence extends his hand.] JP: Welcome back. [Bryant looks at Pleasance's extended hand, then chuckles.] DB: What the hell is this, Johnny? Since when does the Big Bad shake hands, eh? [Bryant's eyes narrow.] DB: What's your game, Pleasance? JP: Bloody hell, does everyone have a short fuse around here? Glory's got it more together than you do, and she's damn near got her bum hangin' out thanks to that well-placed split in her dress. It's called a "greeting", Dave. Americans do that, right? Even the ones from Las Vegas, yeah? [Bryant hesitates, then reaches out and shakes Plesance's hand.] DB: Yeah... now, Johnny, maybe you can answer my question -- what the hell do you want? I know for damn sure you didn't come here just to shake my hand... JP: Glad you see it my way. [Pleasence off-handedly flicks his cigarette at the camera before lighting another one.] JP: Here's the deal -- a man like me doesn't hang around places like this for long. Gonna need a bit of a guide, you see -- I know how to be a champion, but the Big Bad needs an enforcer. Someone that's been to every bad place in the sport and still walked out with his head held high. DB: Every bad place, huh? [Bryant laughs, relaxing visibly.] DB: Yeah, guess you could say that. [Bryant pauses for a second, frowning.] DB: Although, there was more than one occasion where I didn't exactly walk out with my head held high. [Pleasence tugs at his collar.] JP: Those were all... flukes. Yeah mate, don't worry about those. [Bryant is silent for a moment...but only a moment.] DB: Flukes... [chuckles] Yeah, flukes. Tell me somethin', Johnny... You know how many times I've heard the word "fluke" in my career? [Pleasance shrugs.] DB: Well, let's just think about it for a second. Michigan... check. New Jersey... check. California? [Bryant smirks.] DB ...Check. Funny thing about that "fluke" business, though, JP... in every single place that I went, the guys in the suits? They were all too eager to put me right in the limelight. Jersey? I was their posterboy within months. Michigan? I took that company to places it wasn't ever gonna see without Dave Bryant at the helm. California... [Dave looks none-too-pleased remembering California.] DB: ...well, the less said about that, the better. Anyway, before I let my straying from the point reach Madrockian proportions... everyplace I went was more than happy to put me right in the fire... and so, I have every single one of them to thank... [Bryant pauses, then almost snarls.] DB: For almost ruining my god damn career! For all their talk of flukes and all their bitching about my being overrated, they all, to a _man_, used me -- and their combined effort, in the end, left barely a shell, sapped ALL the desire out of someone who's wanted to do nothing in his life but wrestle! [Bryant seethes for a moment.] DB: I had to walk away from the business for _years_ to recharge the batteries... all thanks to that series of "flukes". All thanks to those organizations that put me in the spotlight and rode my back, reaping ridiculous financial rewards, or in layman's terms... making a crapton of cash at _my_ expense... and all the while, the people I worked with? They spent all their time knifing me in the god damn back, belittling me to each other, because none of them had the balls to do it to my face. They knew... they KNEW that if they messed with me, whatever company it was would slap them so far down the totem pole it'd take them years to reach "curtain jerker" status again... and that, JP? [Bryant takes a deep breath.] DB: That damn near ruined me. Their jealousy, my... oh, let's call it naiveté... led me to believe that, in all those companies that pushed me to the stars, I really was the best. I walked around in a haze, the fog that can _only_ be produced by a man who has read and wholeheartedly believes his own press, for _years_. I still loved wrestling, but I grew to love success more -- and everyplace I went just nursed that attitude, Pleasance. They took the most promising wrestler in years, turned him into what _they_ wanted him to be, and when he didn't make them money anymore... [Bryant trails off for a moment.] DB: They tossed me out like so much garbage, and that attitude I'm talking about, the same attitude that lead me to do _nothing_ to improve at my craft for years.... That attitude left me with no second chances, noplace to go. Any bridges I crossed when I was young, I made damn sure to burn to the ground, thinking that I'd last forever, not be one of those shooting stars that's brilliant for moments, but eventually comes crashing down. [Bryant clears his throat.] DB: Those years I spent away from the business... they weren't all spent just "recharging the batteries". I had a hell of a lot of catching up to do in the ring... [Bryant's eyes glitter.] DB: Unfortunately for everyone else, my past _failed_ to snuff out the desire completely... and I learned my lessons over those years _damn_ well, Pleasance. [The Big Bad looks at his cigarette thoughtfully for a moment, before blowing on the cherry, letting it burn bright for a second, and then taking a deep drag from the filtered end.] JP: ...yeah, mate. [Pleasence spits.] JP: ...damned shame what this business has done to you, I know. I had to wear a soddin' Lakers jersey once, and lemme tell you, I don't know a damned thing about basketball. Lost to a guy that couldn't spell his own name. Spent my years living from motel to motel and from fed to fed with nothing but Matilda and my smokes to keep me sane. It grates on a man, it does... but the one thing that makes us better is that _we keep going_. We keep doing what we do regardless of the consequences. [Pleasence flicks his other cigarette away and begins tapping his pack for another one.] JP: Dave, you've been there. You've seen every facet of this business, and regardless of whether Rip City wants to acknowledge your past or not, you know what it takes in order to survive. I'm lookin' to run on the side of angels in this one, mate... no matter how much blood'll be spilled. We'll set things to rights. [Dave smirks.] DB: Bloodshed, maybe a little redemption, the fans booing the everliving hell out of us... [A chuckle.] DB: We'll set things to rights, indeed. [Dave reaches out to shake JP's hand, and the champ obliges... as we fade to black. Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: First Ryan Faith, and now Dave Bryant. RCW Champion Johnny Pleasence is surrounding himself with impact players, and I for one don't like the look of it. We've seen what Pleasence and Faith can do when they combine -- adding the dangerous Dave Bryant to that mix... well, only time will tell. But I think it's safe to say that this is *not* good news for the other athletes in Rip City Wrestling. [The image on the screen behind Ditka changes to show Owen Curtis standing in the ring with RCW President Daniel Spreadbury as part of the Ring Of Truth segment on RAMPAGE.] DD: Much as I would like to draw a veil over it, it would be remiss of me not to mention the antics of Owen "Truth" Curtis, who -- thanks to his expensive legal representation -- managed to inveigle himself into his own talk show segment on RAMPAGE last week, called -- you'll like this -- the Ring of Truth. In it, Curtis set out to humiliate not only Brody Thunder, the man he attacked nearly a month ago with no provocation, but also the RCW President himself, who was legally obliged to appear on the show. The President tried to get an explanation out of Curtis for his actions two weeks previously -- but all he got was the usual stream of vindictive invective from RCW's resident self-absorbed windbag. And, of course, Curtis isn't done yet. He's still serving a 28-day suspension -- which expires after next week's RAMPAGE event -- but that hasn't stopped him preparing some comments for us here tonight. Lucky us. [Cut to a shot of Pioneer Courthouse Square -- an entire city block that is nothing but a terraced brick plaza.] VOICE: I've been called lots of things. [It's a sunny day. The echo of street musicians and murmuring crowds fills the air.] VOICE: I've been called the hometown favorite, the collegiate hero. [A street person in a watch cap and old Columbia jacket is seated on some steps, holding a sign that says, "Nam vet. Anything helps."] VOICE: I've been called a liar, a hypocrite, and far worse. I figure it comes with the territory. I wrestle, and I report the news. These are both jobs where not everyone will love you, but I knew that long ago. You wanna be great? You do your job right, and the heck with what anyone thinks. If they're smart enough, they'll get it. If they're dumb, they'll call you every name in the book, and predictably, that's what most of them do. [The camera pans away from the street person, next taking in an older, clean-cut man, who is screaming aloud some words from the Bible.] VOICE: You name it, I've been called it, but never have I been called blind -- blinded by my own supposed arrogance -- until last week. [Cut to a clip of last week's RAMPAGE.] DON DITKA: I simply do not know what Owen Curtis is trying to achieve, Billy Shakespeare. Doesn't Curtis recognize 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? BILLY SHAKESPEARE: Curtis is blinded by his own self-importance, Don. It's as simple as that. [Cut back to Pioneer Courthouse Square. Owen "Truth" Curtis is seated before us in a backwards-placed folding chair, facing the camera, and us. He's wearing a black jacket, blue shirt, gold and blue tie, and dark sunglasses.] OWEN "TRUTH" CURTIS: Blind. That's what Billy Shakespeare said. Self-important? He said that, too. [Owen lowers the dark sunglasses down his nose, so that we see his eyes.] OTC: You know something, Shakespeare? You got quite the set to name yourself "Shakespeare" and call ME, "self-important." That's a good one. Jeez ... I think I'll rename myself "Erstwhile Ernie Hemingway," then shoot myself in the head, and be just like you. Completely irrelevant. But the Truth, Billy, is that I like you. I like you, because ... you stay in your place. That is, you stay out of the ring. You are on the sidelines, where you know you belong, and you don't sit there talking about how great the past was, unlike some people. For the most part, you call the action TODAY. You know that yesterday is where you were, today is where it's at, and you aren't a star attraction today. Instead, you shine the "SPOTLIGHT" -- as it were -- on people like me, who ARE stars today. [Owen snickers to himself.] OTC: Keep it up, Billy -- because if you're waiting to shine that spotlight on Thunder, he ain't a star, and he ain't coming to Rampage, not now, not in five weeks. I'm the only one. I'll be there next Thursday at the Rose Garden, and he won't be. It's as simple as that. And if I'm wrong? If Brody Thunder shows up? I'll SHOW everyone "what Owen Curtis is trying to achieve," suspension be damned, because Brody Thunder is like you, and Ernest Hemingway, and William Shakespeare. A body of work. Not a living document. I'm an evolution, still going on. You're just epilogues, over and done. And that's the Truth. [Owen gets up from the folding chair and walks away. Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: If my broadcast colleague Billy Shakespeare were here tonight, I'm sure he'd have some choice words for Owen Curtis -- but right now, fortunately, we have to take a break, which will spare you from any more of *my* choice words about Curtis, a man utterly lacking in respect and appreciation for his peers in this great sport of ours. We'll be right back. [Fade to commercials.] [Fade in.] ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / >< >< >< >< >< RAMPAGE RUNDOWN >< >< >< >< >< /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Ditka is sat behind the glass-topped desk, the RCW RAMPAGE logo on the plasma screen behind him.] DD: Welcome back to On The Wire, folks! It's time to talk about next Thursday night's edition of RCW RAMPAGE, coming at you *live* as usual from the Rose Garden right here in Portland. A few tickets are still available -- so get yourself down to the Rose Garden box office or click onto www.ticketmaster.com to make sure you don't miss one moment of the action. Let's talk about the incredible matches we're scheduled to see one week from tonight. [The screen behind Ditka shows the faces of "Pistol" Paul Driscoll and Ryan Faith, with RCW Champion Johnny Pleasence interposed between them.] DD: You heard it earlier on -- "Pistol" Paul Driscoll demanded a match with Ryan Faith immediately after Faith attacked Driscoll at the conclusion of last week's RAMPAGE, and RCW officials have signed that match for next Thursday night. However, in a twist that has left many scratching their heads, RCW officials have also sanctioned a special guest referee for this match -- and that referee is Ryan Faith's ally, none other than the RCW Champion, Johnny Pleasence. We heard from Driscoll earlier tonight -- let's hear from the champ, and from Ryan Faith himself. [Scene opens up with Dinah and Ryan Faith. Ryan rarely gives us his time outside of the arena or RCW owned properties. Ryan likes to keep to himself. Anyhow, Ryan stands there wearing a black T-shirt with "Got Faith?" written in bold white print and a pair of shredded up, jean shorts. Dinah is at his side wearing a tight white tank top and tight black pants looking so damn sexy. Ryan stands there, continuously flipping his shaggy, brown hair out of his face. Dinah taps him a kiss on his cheek and prepares to speak.] D: Oh we're just having a rip roaring time of it here in the RCW now. If anyone was carefully watching last week, they saw just exactly what I said was going to happen to Madrock. Ryan dropped him on his fat, hollow head and sent him on his way. And in the process, we got to get people to remember that Ryan Faith came here to dominate. He didn't come here to have his moment, his time, his spotlight obstructed or taken away from him by men who have no right even calling themselves wrestlers. [Dinah looks over to Ryan who just nods at his companion's word.] RF: You knew it was just a matter of time. You knew that once I got my mind right and focused, that it wasn't going to be a good thing for the other guys here in RCW. You'd walk around the back and you know, there were some guys who thought that Madrock was the next big thing. That he had some the intangibles to make it in the business. Screw intangibles cos I showed that hack a thing or two about what wrestling is. He went into that ring and was decimated by a far more superior wrestler and warrior. In this life that we live, we can't afford to parade around like idiots, like court jesters if we intend on dominating. And when I say we, yes I mean, The Big Nasty and myself. You see there's no coincidence that the belt is around his waist. We are far better than anything this federation has to offer. D: And you both have the brains of the outfit by your side. [Ryan smirks.] D: You know that with me by your side, there's been a fire lit under you and you are showing everyone the dominant wrestler that you are. RF: I can't argue with that. I can't argue with the fact that ever since I came back from the bogus suspension they handed down to me... I haven't lost. And I haven't asked for a day off... I haven't slacked around. I've made everyone talk about the RCW. Its not Mark Coleman, or Madrock... its not Owen "The Truth is I'm washed up" Curtis. People are tuning in to see if the kid is gonna be able to continue to dominate. There's a buzz that stirs up every time I show my face or make my presence felt. Dinah? D: Yea babe? RF: Have you been taking score? Have you counted the number of times I've made men test their faith? Have you noticed that none of them have been the same since? [Dinah tilts her head and looks directly at Ryan.] D: What are you getting at? RF: I dropped Madrok on his head once... and then the next week I did it again... for the three count. I dropped Driscoll on his head... so what does that lead us to believe? [Dinah raises her hand and brushes Ryan's shaggy hair out of his eyes.] D: That he doesn't stand a chance. RF: You know, for all intents and purposes, Driscoll has had himself a pretty good run here. He's managed to gain the #1 contender status and even defended successfully.It's just funny how you see the men that have all this success here in the RCW, but when they step into the ring against Ryan Faith... it stops. I didn't come to the RCW to stand by and watch others succeed. I didn't come to RCW to watch two bit hacks, side show freaks, cowboys, lions, tigers and bears... D: Oh my! RF: [chuckles] Driscoll, I want to tell you something. Last week, you had brave intentions running down that ramp. You had purpose. You had a fire in your eyes and you wanted to make a statement. But you forgot one thing. As long as you are the # 1 contender, you will have a target on you. You will be in my cross hairs. You should learn now that I'm everywhere. When you turn that corner in the backstage area, I'm right there. When you decide to run down the ramp in a show of bravado, I'm right there. I don't care what you know, who you know..what you've done. All that doesn't amount to anything to me. You're just another of those losers RCW signed. Another one of those names that will just fall to the wayside. I hope you've enjoyed your ride here. I hope that you've cherished every moment you've had as the #1 contender and the time you've spent actually being mentioned by other people. Because, that time is drawing to a close. [Faith looks at his watch.] RF: Driscoll... time to test your faith. [We wipe-cut to a shot of a random bar, and more importantly, two people sitting at a table in said establishment. The bar's one of those "almost-dives" -- good decor, just so damned dimly lit that you think it's a hole in the wall. Anyway, the Big Bad himself, Johnny Pleasence is sitting across from an unidentified, balding man, nursing a Guinness. Said unidentified man looks slightly uncomfortable with a glass of water in front of him. We join the conversation in progress.] JP: Okay mate, here's the deal. Normally, an upstanding man such as myself doesn't come to other folks for advice... but this time I'm a bit out of sorts. I'm out of my element, you see. ??: What exactly do you want to know, Mr. Pleasence? JP: ...I need to know how to referee a soddin' match. So, I -- what was your name again? I know you did some light refereeing for IIWF back in the day -- nothing televised and all that, granted -- but... I try to forget about that damned place even existing, so forgive me if I don't remember you. V: Tony. Tony Monteficker. [Pleasence chuckles.] JP: Are you bloody serious? TM: Yeah, is there something wrong with that? I mean, promoters never let me use my last name -- JP: Well, there's a reason for that. TM: What's that? [Pleasence lights up a cigarette, taking a drag.] JP: Not gonna tell you. [Tony just looks at him dumbly, and Pleasence takes a swig of beer.] JP: Now, what's the first key of refereeing? Like, what exactly do you have to do and stuff? Watch out for kicks to the giblets? Not look at the pretty bird in the front row? Be able to count to three? TM: Well, y-yeah... and you have to be professional. JP: That's easy! I'm a bloody professional about everything I do! The way I swing a chair? Magnificent... nobody does it better, mate. I'm a complete and utter professional in the ring. TM: O-kay... well, you've gotta be fair and biased. JP: Bollocks to that. TM: If you're gonna be a good referee, you're gonna have to be... JP: Bloody ruthless, that's what! If one of those sods even breathes wrong, they're getting disqualified! TM: Isn't Ryan Faith in the match you're refereeing? JP: Yeah, what about him? TM: ...you'd disqualify him? JP: You bet! Kid needs some adversity in his career -- yeah, he beat up the Aussie retard which means that in some circles, he's destined for the toilet due to association with that soddin' toe rag. TM: I thought you two were buddies? JP: Ha. Just because the kid's got my back doesn't mean we're buddies, you know. TM: But... JP: Save it, you git. Listen, you've pretty much been no help -- it's obvious that you've got no soddin' idea as to what you're doing... 'cuz if you did, you'd be in the big time right now! Hell, if you know what you were doing out here in Portland, the IIWF would still be open... TM: I don't see how that has anything to do with it... JP: That's because you're blind, mate. You can't see the truth... fact of the matter is, you have it all wrong. Refereeing ain't about keepin' things fair and balanced like it's some sort of news channel -- it's about embracin' the chaos in the match, mate. See, I got a theory. Ryan Faith's gonna try and kill Paul Driscoll, while Driscoll's gonna try and kill Faith to get to me. The thing is... I'm not gonna make it easy. For either of them. TM: But, why are you refereeing the match if you don't even care about it? JP: Simple, mate. 'Cuz I'm gonna make it _fun_. Now... where's my beer? TM: Right the... JP: Shut your gob. [And with that, we cut back to Ditka in the studio. The sneering visage of Lord Byron appears on the screen behind him, next to the easy-going face of "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy, together with the words "60 SECOND CHALLENGE".] DD: Now, folks, I mentioned earlier on that Lord Byron's appearance on RAMPAGE last week ended on a sour note -- and it was because the aristocrat *literally* bumped into the first hobo of wrestling, "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy, backstage on his way out of the arena, Cassidy inadvertently spilling some of his precious bourbon on Byron's expensive suit. [Footage from RAMPAGE rolls, showing Cassidy bumping into the British blueblood and spilling his drink over him in front of a mortified Spreadbury, and follows with a clip of Byron and Cassidy staring each other down.] LB: ...you wouldn't last a minute. [Byron snaps his fingers in Cassidy's face, and storms towards the arena exit.] LC: All right, lad. You're on. 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. [The footage pauses with the stunned look on Byron's face, and Don Ditka's voice is imposed over it.] DD: It didn't take long for President Spreadbury to back Cassidy up, siding with the RCW superstar over his special guest. I can only assume that Byron's disparaging comments to both Cassidy and RCW -- which were broadcast live on air -- infuriated our President. In any case, between The Jersey Drifter and our President, they appeared to back the aristocrat into a corner: [The footage rolls again, capturing the President's comments] DS: You aren't going to back down now, are you Byron? The "greatest technical wrestler of all time?" The "legend?" LB: And I thought you were trying to protect your "talent," Mr. Spreadbury. You know my agent's number -- set it up. [The footage ends and we cut back to Don Ditka in the studio] DD: Byron repeated his challenge, and it has since been confirmed by RCW's front office... a sixty-second challenge match between Liam Cassidy and Lord Byron will take place on the next edition of RAMPAGE, in what must be the most unusual match in RCW's short history. Byron has dramatically claimed he can beat Cassidy in under a minute, and my broadcast colleague Billy Shakespeare -- who appeared in the IIWF alongside Byron -- believes Cassidy could well be in trouble. However, Byron has not been in an American wrestling ring in over six years: indeed, following the closure of the IIWF he practically vanished without a trace. Personally, I will be watching this encounter with a great deal of interest, and despite Byron's history, I think that there can't be any way he can finish the job at RAMPAGE. We will be hearing from Cassidy later on in the show. Amazingly, Byron himself has refused an interview with RCW to discuss the match -- however, I understand that his agent has FedEx-ed us pre-recorded comments. [The footage rolls, and opens up with the BBC logo and footage from the United Kingdom's successful 2012 Olympic Bid: the winning bid announcement, the public celebrations in Trafalgar Square, Lord Sebastian Coe cheering, arms raised in triumph with the rest of the British Olympic committee team. A voice over with an unmistakably British accent narrates over the footage.] V/O: After years of hard work, negotiations and patience, on Wednesday 6th July 2005, London won the right to hold the 2012 Olympic Games. [Don Ditka's voice can be heard fading out in the background] DD: What on earth is th..? [More footage of London's Olympic triumph. The narrator continues.] V/O: A lot of the credit for London's triumph has gone to the British celebrities and public figures involved in spearheading the campaign and putting the bid together. The leadership of Lord Coe, the appearances by David Beckham and England's national football coach Sven Goran Eriksson, even the Prime Minister himself, Tony Blair, was heavily involved. [The footage switches to a BBC reporter, inside a sporting complex. In the background, a weights gym and a full sized ring are seeing some heavy use by a number of young athletes. A caption at the bottom of the screen introduces the reporter as the BBC's David Westmond.] DW: In this series of reports, I have been examining and interviewing the careers and activities of a number of celebrity sportspeople involved, not only with the London 2012 campaign, but also with the preparation of our own team for the next Olympic Games in Beijing. [Cue footage of a number of great British athletes. David Beckham's infamous 50 yard goal against Wimbledon in the Premiership, Lennox Lewis battling Riddick Bowe, Tim Henman facing Pat Rafter on court at the US Open.] DW: In the late 1990's a number of sporting greats were born in the eyes of the British public -- stars who not only excelled in their disciplines, but who gained in their own right celebrity status. The subject of today's report is one such individual. [The footage switches again, showing... out of the blue, the Coliseum Arena in Portland, Oregon... and a full house. The image focuses in on the ring centre stage, and the unmistakable figure of the professional wrestler Lord Byron, straddling the turnbuckles, raising the IIWF Intercontinental Championship high in triumph to the crowd.] DW: When thinking of the Olympics, the sport of wrestling is not usually the first to spring to mind. Over the last few years, however, things have changed. The professional wrestler known as Lord Byron -- a cult icon to the British public in the late 1990's for his emergence and success in the world of American wrestling, retired from the sport in 1999, and has since been promoting the sports of freestyle and Greco-Roman wrestling in the United Kingdom. Part of the British Olympic team in 1992 himself; he was forced to abandon the Barcelona Games due to injury. He stunned the coaching set up by his decision to turn professional -- a move which was all the more surprising considering he would have been a definite contender for the 1996 games. [More footage rolls, showing an older Byron, in a plain black tracksuit, coaching a number of young athletes and putting them through their paces.] DW: However, Byron became a household name -- and gained a good measure of notoriety -- as one of the few British wrestlers to make an impact in the gaudy world of American wrestling. Seen by many as more entertainment than sport, Byron's amateur background and classic matches brought more and more interest in the amateur competition to the general public. It's a trend that continues now, more than 6 years since his retirement, as Byron has become one of the head coaches of the British Olympic Wrestling team. And today, in his first interview since returning from the United States, he tells us of his reasons for his retirement, the difficulties he has had with bringing credibility to the sport, and his involvement with the Olympic bid. [The scene switches to the interior of an elegantly decorated study. Trophies, medals and replica belts take pride of place on the walls, and in front of a French window sits a large mahogany desk. Resting on the desk is a blotter, a notepad, and a pair of Italian leather shoes. The camera pans back to take in the image of the man himself.] DW: Good afternoon Lord Byron, and thank you for taking the time out from your schedule for this interview. LB: A pleasure Mr. Westmond, anything for the BBC. [Byron is relaxing back in a large leather executive chair. He cuts a striking figure, clean-shaven, blond hair pulled back into a tight, neat ponytail, only a few strands of grey and white around the edges. Dressed simply in jeans and a black cotton polo shirt with the English Three Lions motif on the breast pocket, and fingering a polished black walking cane with a brass handle, he looks perfectly at ease.] DW: Byron, you've been coaching the British Olympic team and involved in the set up since your retirement from the professional side of the sport six years ago. How difficult has it been, trying to gain credibility for an Olympic team in a sport seen by a lot of people in the UK as, well... something of a soap opera, where the action is staged? [Byron's affable smile fades only slightly, and he removes his feet from the desk.] LB: You know, that is a stigma and a misapprehension I've had to live with for most of my adult life. It's bred out of ignorance. Large percentages of the public only see or know about [Byron scowls, and flashes quote signs with his fingers] the entertainment side of the sport. It's due to this stereotypical image that the amateur sport has suffered here, unlike America and Eastern Europe, where it is flourishes as a major college and national sport. But there are many different styles and cultures -- the amateur Greco-Roman and freestyle wrestling formats used at the Olympics, which I study and train, the mixed martial arts events in the Orient, puroresu and lucha libre -- but for most people here, all they see is the stories and the comical characters, Saturday night on television. They don't understand that the majority of the people who compete in wrestling events don't ever even get to see a TV camera. Or what those people go through in pursuit of their dream. We've all been tarred with the same brush. Fixed? [Byron points to a deep scar above his left eye.] LB: This happened on the road during my time in the US. Twelve stitches, a concussion, and I was expected to perform for a non-televised event the following night. Don't tell me that was planned. [Byron raises his arm, flexing his not-inconsiderable bicep, pointing to another jagged scar] LB: A surgically repaired bicep. I tore the muscle at the start of a match, again in the US, on a pay-per-view television event. I probably did most of the actual damage carrying on and finishing the match. After suffering an injury like that only seconds into a twenty-minute event, what on earth could possibly be planned or scripted? I suffered a fractured vertebra in my final match in the United States -- I was in traction for months. And I'm one of the lucky ones. Wrestling -- and by that I mean the stereotyped professional side -- suffers more injuries per athlete than any other sport worldwide. Most promotions in the industry don't even offer their roster anything other than rolling contracts, and insurance policies for athletes are unheard of. With the industry dominated by one or two major promoters with TV rights, apart from those at the very top, who can afford it? You're injured, you can't compete, and you don't get paid. If you can't work, draw or entertain a crowd, you don't even get the opportunity. And certain members of the public use the word fixed? [Byron shrugs, and looks away, exasperated.] LB: Tell that to the people who've worked all their life to never get anywhere in the industry. Tell it to the people who've been crippled due to the sport. Tell that to the families of those who've lost their lives pursuing their dream. You know what I'm talking about here. What the public see -- the big shows with huge production values -- it's all about entertainment, true. But don't ever dare to disparage what goes on in the ring. We're not actors, we're athletes. You beg to differ? Throw Tom Cruise in the ring with me, and see how long he lasts. One way or another, wrestling claims the lives of those involved. Take a look at Creed for example. [Footage of Byron's matches against Creed runs as Byron talks - Byron and Creed trading holds, throws and blows in matches in the IIWF and EMWC. The camera cuts back to Westmond.] DW: Yes... your rivalry with Creed was one of your longest running feuds in the United States - what made you a household name here. After your final match against Creed at the Deschenes Cup, you walked away from the sport. [Byron takes a deep breath, and lets it out in a long sigh of resignation] LB: Creed is a perfect example of what I am talking about here -- he had more raw talent at his age than I did at my peak. Power, pace, charisma... but he is a living testament to the old cliché of the flame burning twice as bright -- forget living to fight another day, Creed always wanted to fight now. The word quit just wasn't in his vocabulary. [A trace of the old famous Byron sneer crosses the blueblood's features.] LB: Amongst many others, of course. The problem with Creed was that he was willing to sacrifice everything for instant success. The man could have had one of the most gloried careers in the sport -- but he never understood that sometimes to step forward you had to take a step back. In one year he suffered the kind of injuries that most wrestlers rack up over a decade, injuries that most sportsman would never see -- and he worked through most of them, ending up a physical wreck. That's what the professional industry does to people. DW: What made you decide to take the decision to quit the professional side of the sport after your final match with Creed? [Footage rolls from the Deschenes Cup, Byron's final appearance in an American ring. A bloodied and battered Byron is shown pinning Creed to win the match, and then images of Byron being held up by his associate Sid Starr as a frenzied Creed throws blazing chairs into the ring.] LB: It wasn't an instant decision -- it was something I had been seriously considering for some time. The events that unfolded in my final match simply sealed it. I always loved the sport for what it was -- a battle between two competitors, each trying to subdue the other within a stringent rule set. It seemed however, that in the late nineties, with the way the sport was heading... [Byron sighs, and leans back in his chair, rolling his cane between his palms] LB: ...Let's just say that too many promoters were happy to sign a man to a contract on the basis of his size and ability to swing a baseball bat. The era of garbage wrestling, as I called it -- the promoters were trying to distance themselves from the images of scripted matches by turning their arenas into bloodbaths. By throwing chairs and tables and barbed wire into the mix. Signing the sadists and the glorified stuntmen. Actual wrestling was being overlooked in favour of the 'next big spot'. That was not a situation I felt I wanted to get involved in, or could contribute to. But I knew in the end that it could only last so long -- it simply couldn't sustain itself. The competitors, shorn of actual talent, were breaking themselves in the ring, but were unable to do anything else. The fans were becoming jaded and bored with simply watching strings of stunts -- when you see people flying off the stage week in week out, or tumbling through a table in flames, what is there left to see? Sooner or later the paying public would turn back to wanting work rate over shock spots -- and that's exactly how the industry has swung back again. I had my offers in that time -- notably and persistently from a company known as EMWC -- but that was exactly the style I was trying to avoid. In the end, I thought it best to return to my roots. VO: You came back to the UK. LB: Back to the United Kingdom, and back to amateur wrestling. I missed my own chance at Olympic glory -- ironically it was that which led me into the American industry in the first place, where I made my name as you say. I was given another chance however, when I was invited to join the British Olympic Committee as a coach of the Great Britain freestyle wrestling team. The BOC wanted to make the amateur sport more accessible and glamorous -- historically it's not a sport that is often in the public's eye here in the UK -- but we have a number of emerging talents here in both the freestyle and Greco-Roman styles now who have a good chance to break the dominance of the US, Russia and Eastern Europe in Beijing in 2008, and hopefully we can move on from there with the full support of the public to London and the 2012 games. VO: Do you think that your popularity with the British public after your time on television and in the United States has helped the sport develop in the UK? LB: Certainly. I was flattered by the reception I received from the British public on my return, and I'm sure that the fact that I was a household name in the UK after my success in America helped attract people here to the amateur side. Certainly the sport has needed a figurehead here to help restore it's credibility, and if I can do a job on the public relations front as well as coaching, so much the better. VO: You said that the wrestling industry is seeing a revival - having been away from the professional side of the sport for seven years, do you ever think the opportunity will arise for you the be involved in that side of the sport again? [Byron smiles a wry little smile, and smoothes his hair back. From the look on his face, you can tell he's been asked this on numerous occasions] LB: I'm simply happy doing what I'm doing. The hardcore era may be over, and there are a lot of impressive newcomers with a good wrestling background Stateside, but I think there's a time for everyone to step away. I don't regret my decision to leave the professional side behind when I did. VO: That would be a no, then? [Another wry smile from the blueblood.] B: Maybe. Who knows? [The interview ends there, and the footage switches back to Westmond at the gym.] DW: In the end, it appears that professional wrestling's loss has been amateur wrestling's gain here in the United Kingdom, as Lord Byron continues to spearhead the revival of the sport here, and further Britain's Olympic chances. This is David Westmond, BBC news. [The image fades to black, with a small bar of text at the bottom of the screen denoting the words "BBC, August 2005". Cut back to Don Ditka in the studio.] DD: Unbelievable. He actually sent us archive footage. The arroga.. [Ditka breaks off, realising he is back on air, and changes tack] DD: Well, that was an interesting look at Byron's activities since his retirement from professional wrestling seven years ago. Will his absence these last few years affect him when he faces Cassidy in the ring at RAMPAGE, or will he live up to his boasts? Let's hear from the man he'll be facing, the first hobo of wrestling, Liam Cassidy. [Fade up from black to the insides of an office. It must be after hours, because the desks are all empty with no one working behind them. The waste baskets are in the midst of being emptied as evidenced by the garbage cart and empty cans surrounding it. Off in the distance, a hoarse laughter can be heard. The camera begins to walk from one end of the office to the other, where the lights are dim. There is a glow coming out of one of the side rooms, from a television set. Another cleaning cart rests just outside the door. We hear that laughter once again, this time it is joined by a quieter, high pitched laugh.] LC: Drink'er up Paco! Lot's more where that came from. [We get close enough for the brave cameraman to peak inside. It is a television editing suite, and sitting in with his feet up on the desk is none other RCW's resident hobo, "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy. He is wearing his usual dirty white sleeveless ribbed top (aka his wifebeater), and a pair of snazzy red chords he must have picked up from the local thrift shop. And of course, his black worn fedora hat covers his dirty brown hair. Leaning against the wall next to him is a younger Mexican looking man, in a cleaning uniform. They both are holding bottles of Corona beer and are taking huge swigs of it. On top of the desk, behind Liam's bare feet is the state of the art digital editing computer and VTR unit. Surrounding that and all over the room is about twenty bottles of Corona, all empty. There is a small duffel bag beside Liam's chair with a few sealed bottles within arm's reach. There is also an empty Dominoes pizza box. On the tv is an old black and white episode of The Three Stooges, and the two inebriated men are laughing hysterically at it.] LC: I think I'm gonna have to take that eye gouge move and use it in the ring, whaddaya say Paco? Paco: Si Mr. Liam, poke their eyes out. That always works. [Cassidy drops his now empty bottle to the floor and leans over so that he can reach his bag. Pulling out a fresh new Corona. Liam simply untwists the top off with his teeth and spits it clear across the room.] Voice: Hello? [The duo ignore the voice, or simply don't hear it because the tv is up so loud.] Curly: "What's that for? I didn't do nuthin'!" Moe: "That's in case ya do and I'm not around!" [Again, Liam chuckles to himself. The camera pans left to reveal someone is approaching from the other side of the office.] Person: Hello? Anyone in there? [Liam's ears finally perk up. He quickly gets his feet off the desk and grabs the remote, muting the television set as fast as he can.] DS: Liam? [The RCW President, Daniel Spreadbury, stands in the doorway now, looking on in shock at the mess in the room. Liam quickly leaps up to his barefeet and removes his hat.] LC: Bossman, how's she goin'? [Despite the pile of booze and the fact that Paco isn't really doing his job, Dan has a relieved look on his face.] DS: Thank goodness it's just you! The janitor called me saying there was a break-in. LC: Paco, did you call the boss on me? Paco: Sorry Mr. Liam. I thought you was a burglar or something. [Paco shrugs and swigs the remaining beer in his bottle. He quickly drops the bottle in the pile, and slinks out of the room quickly disappearing with his cleaning cart.] DS: Liam, I know I told you we have an open door policy here at RCW, but what in God's name are you doing in here at three thirty in the morning? LC: Oh sorry boss, didn't know that was frowned on. DS: Why are you even here? LC: Well, I was just making my way home from playing bingo with the boys, and I remembered talkin' to one of the fellers in the locker room about my upcoming match with Lord Brian and he told me you have a whole buncha clips in here from something called IIWF or whatever, and that guy was in ‘em. So, to prepare for my match this Saturday, I thought I'd scout ‘em out, y'know? See what the bugger's all about aside from fancy cars and tight asses. DS: I can't disagree with you there. Some scouting couldn't hurt, especially against an opponent the caliber as Byron. LC: That's what Danny said. DS: Danny? LC: Yeah, some punk kid who tried to sell me a t-shirt or something last week. He told me to check out this Lord Brian guy, but I didn't find much, boss. Aside from the beers and pizza, tonight's kinda been a waste. DS: You didn't find much? Why is that? LC: I dunno. Danny said I should be looking at this guy... "Majestic" Maurice McArthur... Apparently he's the same guy as that Lord Brian feller or something. [Dan sighs aloud.] DS: Liam, you may not want to believe everything Danny Daniels tells you. Lord Brian... I mean Byron! Byron wasn't "Majestic" Maurice McArthur. He's actually the exact opposite caliber opponent than McArthur. He's a former IIWF Intercontinental Champion! [Stoic faced, Cassidy shrugs and takes a swig.] DS: Hold on, I had one of the editing guys make up a tape... Where is it? [Dan bravely enters into the edit suit, stepping over the empty bottles and garbage on the floor. He grabs a tape off of the desk as Liam takes his seat once again. Finding the tape he wants, the IIWF President inserts it into one of the VTR's.] DS: Have a look at this... [As the tape begins to roll, Cassidy offers his employer a beer, which is politely declined. A graphic fades up on screen. Lord Byron/Marty Warnett, IIWF Nov '06. The bell finally sounds, as Byron throws a groggy Warnett into the ring, removes his extra attire and rolls back in the ring himself, quickly grabbing Warnett's right leg and hooking in a knee lock. Warnett fights off the pain of the hold, and Byron releases the kneelock and grabs him in a headlock instead, still keeping him on the mat.] DS: See, you'll have to avoid moves like that... [Byron picks up Warnett and throws him to the ropes, Warnett comes back and is met with a hard elbow to the jaw that sends him down to the mat hard. Byron grabs his arm and locks on a chicken wing. Warnett kicks his feet down on the mat in protest. Warnett reaches for the ropes, but he can't reach them... Lord Byron vs Tiger Claw, May '97] DS: Oh, this one's good... [Big heel pop as "Intermezzo" from "Karelia" Suite begins, and Byron appears in the aisle. The winsome DeWinter is at his side, proudly carrying the IIWF and ESWP gold of Lord Byron. Cut to Byron and Claw are able to lock up, something Byron does with vigor as he quickly applies a standing side headlock on the smaller Claw, looking to wrench away... ...Claw, flits out into a go-behind where he momentarily teases a hammerlock -- standing switch -- and the bigger Byron not only applies the hammerlock... but takes Claw down with it... Forward to Tiger Claw leaping from the backrope into a springboard plancha...] TD: Oh my! Byron catches Tiger Claw's dive... into a hotshot over the guardrail! Wow! [Byron's counter was brutal, the sound of Claw's neck snapping over the retaining barrier echoing throughout the Coliseum. Byron does not waste any time, picking Claw from the floor and driving four sharply-placed European uppercuts to the challenger's chin before picking him up, into a gutwrench suplex that lays the smaller man out on the floor.] DS: Anyone that can take it to a legend like Tiger Claw like that is dangerous, Liam. Very dangerous. [Liam is not sitting up in his char, almost on the very end of it. It's clear those last few clips sparked his attention. Lord Byron vs. Creed Jul '97. ...Byron, desperately searching for any means to stop Creed's onslaught, lifts Creed up and falls backwards, clotheslining him onto the top ring rope...] TD: Hotshot by Byron! [Byron quickly staggers to his feet, and moves over to where Creed is lying across the top rope. He reaches down, forcing Creed's head down with his arm while pulling the middle ring rope upwards... trapping Creed's neck between the ropes!] [Byron pulls up Creed's legs, and flips him over, to leave him hanging by the neck from the ring ropes above the arena floor! Creed clutches frantically at his throat, the referee desperately tries to untie him... Byron slumps back to the canvas, shaking his head and desperately trying to catch his breath...] [Byron slowly pushes himself to his feet and moves across... and proceeds to kick away at Creed's back as he hangs! The referee pushes him away, and Byron runs to the opposite ropes, coming back with a flying dropkick.] DS: See how he can take it to you, Liam? [Liam sets his half full bottle of beer down at his feet as he leans in close to the television. A frenzied Creed charges Byron, slumped in the corner. Byron ducks out of the way, and Creed collides with the turnbuckles. Creed slowly pushes away from the turnbuckles, and turns around -- straight into a kick to the midsection from Byron... and a shoulderbuster! Byron wastes no time, pulling up the arm and dropping a series of legdrops across the exposed left shoulder, before pulling Creed over and dropping back, to lock on a crucifix armbar! Noting the concern in Liam's eyes, Dan stops the tape.] DS: Well, what do you think? LC: I think I seriously underestimated this Lord Brian lad. [The camera turns to get a close up shot of the Jersey Drifter, who takes a deep breath and puts the fedora back on his head.] DS: Well, you only have to last sixty seconds technically to win the match. He's the one that was so bold as to say he can beat you in a minute. Just do what you can to not get pinned. Or you can just knock him out, as you like to say. [Dan gives "The Jersey Drifter" a playful nudge. Liam doesn't really react though. He just leans over and picks up the copy of the tape.] DS: Eh, Liam? How long's it take? [Cassidy snaps out of his daze, and looks over to the RCW Pres.] LC: Huh? Oh yeah, one second... Right. Just... one second. [Cassidy sighs as he lifts the tape up and glances at it with a previously unseen look of concern. As the sound of Paco's vacuum cleaner sounds off in the background, we fade back to the studio. The screen behind Ditka now shows the faces of four men: Orin LeBlanc, Derek Rage, Nolan Dorado and Dave Bryant.] DD: It's going to be tag team turmoil next Thursday night in the Garden when "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado teams with last week's Debutants' Brawl Battle Royal winner Dave Bryant to face arch-enemy Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc, who will be partnered by a man no stranger to tag team competition, Derek Rage. We heard from Bryant earlier on tonight -- let's hear from the other three men in this match, beginning with Nolan Dorado, who hospitalised Vinny Carmazzi last week in that brutal attack. [Cut to an interior view of a hallway somewhere within the bowels of the Rose Garden, lit by fluorescent lighting overhead and occupied by stage hands and crew who move quickly back and forth. Through this crowd, the camera shakes and jiggles as it moves toward an open doorway. Pausing outside the door, the camera can see two overstuffed chairs in a lounge area facing towards another closed door. A sign on the closed door reads: "President Daniel Spreadbury" while the chairs in the lounge appear to be occupied. In one, sprawled sideways with her shapely legs stuck high into the air is Rip City's resident "cougar", Jodee Burwick, who is absent-mindedly inspecting her nails. The occupant of the other chair can not be clearly seen but from the gold-traced wrestling boots and the muscular legs sheathed in jeans, is presumably her boyfriend, "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado. Neither one of the two appears to be aware that they are on camera and Dorado's identity is confirmed when his voice can be heard.] ND: This wasn't supposed to happen. [Jodee responds in a preoccupied tone, her attention clearly focused on her overly-manicured nails.] JB: What's that, honey? ND: I said... this wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to drop my first four matches. I wasn't supposed to be kicked out of the damn building! I WASN'T SUPPOSED TO PAY ANY GODDAMN FINES!! [Dorado's frustrated shout finally stirs Burwick from her reverie but the platinum blonde merely looks over at her paramour as her bee-stung lips curl downward in a frown.] JB: Don't get petulant, Nolan. It doesn't suit you. [Dorado's response is a snake's hiss of barely-contained rage.] ND: And what does? Having my girlfriend show up buck naked in another wrestler's dressing room?! Explain that, Jodee!! [Jodee sighs heavily and in a clearly contrived dramatic fashion as she turns sideways in her chair and sets her high heels down onto the floor's carpeting.] JB: Nolan, honey, I've already explained that to you. I was trying to distract the big lug so he wouldn't try to go after you. Obviously, it didn't work out quite the way I'd hoped it would. ND: You mean you didn't expect a cameraman to be there. JB: Nolan! You're my guy! Why would you doubt me? [Dorado's legs pull up and he finally becomes completely visible as he stands up and walks into view, stepping towards Burwick who is beginning to look decidedly nervous. But before the "Golden Boy" can say anything further, he spots the camera out of the corner of his eye and whirls toward it with a furious expression on his face.] ND: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!? GET OUT!!! [And with that, Dorado marches towards the door and slams it shut, blocking the camera's view of the lounge. The microphone is still active, however, and from the other side of the door, a muffled voice can be heard.] V: Mr. Dorado? Ms. Burwick? Mr. Spreadbury will see you now. [After a moment, the scene fades to black. Wipe-cut to a wall of books. A library perhaps? Or perhaps maybe the halls of learning at Reed College? A clink of glass and a rattle of wood... pan over to see that we are inside a bar, actually: Tugboat Brewpub. Sitting off at the far end is Orin "the Lynx" LeBlanc, bottle in front of him. The Canadian grappler shoots a baleful look towards the camera.] OL: I ask around fer a nice quiet place to get a drink from some o' the crew backstage. Emphasis on "quiet". Figures they can't seem to afford me a little touch o' respect fer my time then, sendin' you out fer a soundbyte or two... [He shakes his head.] OL: Man Upstairs tells me to "save my aggression for the ring" instead o' properly dolin' out Dorado's much needed payback. Now, I ain't gonna claim Carmazzi's a friend or anything, but then again the Man Upstairs' crack security didn't do much good lookin' out fer him, now did it? I can only hope the fine you wrangled out of Noli is goin' to his hospital fundage... [LeBlanc chuckles drily.] OL: ...myself, I'm more o' an "eye fer an eye" type. An' if Carmazzi wants anything left fer his own pound o' flesh...well, I can't make any promises. Course, I'm already feelin' the inklings o' dissatisfaction upon me. Tell me to save my aggression fer the ring, that's fine an' dandy. Make me play team-up again when I'm _this_ close to settlin' affairs?! [The Lynx's eyes harden.] OL: I'm beginnin' to wonder who I might have pissed off to deny me my due time alone with the Goldenrod. Everybody gettin' in my way these days... valets, upper management, security. To top it off, the match is with a so-called "prodigal son" comin' back to the home territories an' lookin' fer glory again. [rolls eyes] I did that kind o' song an' dance before arrivin' in Rip City. It ended up... less than amicable. [He takes a long swallow from the bottle.] OL: Point blank, I don't give a damn about the legend, Rage. I don't care about your tag team gold or your brother. I don't care about you tryin' to prove yourself on the solo end or what you do to justify why anyone else should care about it or how many times you talk over folks fer it. I could really care less! All I want is Dorado. [LeBlanc raps the side of the bottle with a knuckle.] OL: So, word o' advice to both Rage an' Bryant. I've no quarrel here with you two, but either o' you get between me an' mine, I can make room fer more _real_ quick. [The Lynx glares.] OL: Now leave me alone. [Wipe-cut to the Intelligent Thug, Derek Rage, stretched out as best as a 7-footer can in the whirlpool after the Debutants' Brawl Battle Royal. He doesn't really look worse for wear from the match, maybe just a little frustrated. Of course it's hard to look worse for wear and it's especially hard to look frustrated with Pizzazz cuddled up next to you in a fomay whirlpool drinking champagne. Not a bad life this Derek Rage lives, eh? And for those who are astute enough to study it, we have a clear view of Pizzazz's neck and shoulders. Hmmm, no straps from a swimsuit. Is she wearing a halter or have the RCW cameras interrupted a truly private moment?] DR: The battle royal used to be the domain of the big man, but now it seems the small man has taken it over. Too many clever moves for these little guys to pull. Sadly, I didn't beat Dave Bryant badly enough to attempt a powerbomb over the ropes and he used my momentum against me. You know what that means? That means he's very good. That means he's very, very good. But that's a battle royal. It amused me that he used pretty much the same strategy I did. It annoyed me that he was successful with his. See, the debutant's battle royal was my time to shine. [Rage takes the champagne flute from Pizzazz and takes a sip. Dutifully Pizzazz takes it back from him with her left hand. Wait a minute, her right hand is nowhere to be seen.] DR: So... [he pauses slightly] a new rivalry in the RCW has been born. Dave Bryant, you may not want it. You may not survive it. But you will have to learn to like it. You, all of you, is set fully in my sights. We're a study in contrasts. You're sleazy, you're small, you're light, but you tend to be erratically brilliant. Me, I'm straight up, I'm tall, I'm big, and sometimes maybe I let... my focus slip. [A reproachful eye slips towards Pizzazz who simply smiles mischievously and shrugs her shoulders.] DR: Next RAMPAGE we shift from the battle royal to my milieu. A good ol' fashioned tag-team match in Portland. I haven't been in a good tag match in Portland for a long time. It's going to be fabulous. And you're going to learn that it probably wasn't the wisest thing to do to attract my attention. Sometimes even the friendliest of rivalries end up in bloodshed. What do you think will happen when I come after the man that stole my shine? P: C'est ou le savon? Je vais le chercher. [Derek's eyebrow arches as Pizzazz takes a deep breath and slides below the water, holding the champagne flute aloft with her left hand. He glances down in the water, mumbling. "That's not the soap." Then he glances back towards the cameras.] DR: Fade to black. [Fade to commercials.] [As we fade back from commercials, the faces of Nathan Herod and "Showtime" Rick Marley appear on the screen behind Ditka.] DD: Welcome back to On The Wire, everybody. Nathan Herod made quite the impression last Thursday night in the Debutants' Brawl Battle Royal. The protegé of notorious hypester Mick Silvestri, Herod looked like nothing special, indeed he looked positively green as grass -- until he unleashed a brutal assault on "Showtime" Rick Marley that left the cruiserweight bloodied, bruised... and out of the battle royal. Next Thursday night on RAMPAGE Herod and Marley will meet one-on-one, and we've got some words from Herod and his mouthpiece manager right now. [Fade in on Mick Silvestri, wearing his familiar suit. He sits behind a small desk that is crammed with the usual office accessories (monitor, keyboard, a tiny calendar with the wise-word-of the day etc.) and he is, of course, all smiles as he addresses the camera.] MS: Hi there, RCW fans, and welcome to this news update about the newest sensation in the wrestling world. I bet all of your were witnesses as the might Jonathan Herod made his astounding debut on the grand stage of RAMPAGE and he turned _all_ the heads with his performance that proved, without the shadow of a doubt, that he is a competitor with heart, with soul and with skill that will conquer th... NH: Bull. [Silvestri freezes for a moment as he is interrupted. The camera zooms out to reveal Nathan Herod lounging on a couch a few feet away from his manager. He is wearing camo pants and plain black t-shirt and is leisurely chewing gum.] MS: Excuse me? NH: Ah called you on your spiel there, Mister Silvestri. Ah mean, all o'that heart-and-soul crap. [He makes a throw-away gesture with his left hand.] NH: Takes no heart and soul to fight the fight, y'know? Only these. [He holds up a pair of massive fists. Mick grimaces.] MS: I thought we agreed to let me do the talking here, Nate. I mean, you lost the match. Let me put a positive spin on it. NH: You call that a match? Let me 'splain the plain, Mister Silvestri. Ah stepped into that ring t'demolish my opponent... and there were six of 'em. Six other guys runnin' aroun', hittin' me, always from behind, never the guts for a face-to-face. [Nathan sneers to emphasize his disdain.] NH: Them veteran boys of yours are pretty yellow, you ask me. Still, ah did what ah wanted. Ah plucked that runt out of the air like an apple from a tree and ah made mah point. You ask the people in Portland what they remember about this match and the smart ones, the ones who know what to look for in a man, they'll tell you "Nathan Herod kicking seven shades of red out of the midget". MS: You should not underestimate Rick Marley. He has been around. He has fought big men like you before, Nate. [A weary shrug is his answer.] MS: Does that not concern you? [Mick glances at the camera.] MS: I mean, I have all the confidence of the world in you and I am sure you will wipe the mat with Rick Marley and overcome him in a breathtaking display of your abilities, but... [An imploring look at Herod.] MS: ...you should not take this lightly. [Nathan scratches his head twice, then looks up at the ceiling.] NH: My Pa always said "look out for small guys". My Pa was a big man hisself, y'know? These days he is walking all crooked but back in the day Jeremiah Herod towered above most others in Alabama. An' he always watched the way smaller guys. "The runts are miserable bastards because they envy your stature" he used to tell me and my brothers. "God knew that some men are no good, so he made the bad ones smaller, weaker and lesser. An' they know it, too. That's why they'll always be nippin' at your heels, tryin' t'bring you down". [The Alabama native's gaze returns to his manager.] NH: This Marley fellow may run aroun' like Speedy Gonzales an' jump aroun' like one o' them crazy kangaroos but let me hit him once or twice an' all his 'sperience will do him jack. I'll bust him open again. Let's see how quick he is with blood runnin' into his eyes. [Again, he raises both his fists.] MS: Curtain Call for "Showtime," what? I like it. [Silvestri gives a thumb up. Herod smirks, then answers him with the thumbs down. Cut back to the studio. Wipe-cut to a steamed-up mirror.] VOICE: Nathan Herod. [We hear the sounds of a running shower in the background cascading around a voice... the voice of RCW newcomer "Showtime" Rick Marley.] RM: It's a name that's been on my mind quite a bit lately. Nathan f[BLEEP]ing Herod. I came out to introduce myself to the fans in Portland... to show what I could do. What I ended up showing everyone was that I knew how to introduce myself to the bottom of someone else's boot like a friggin' champ. [A hand comes up and wipes the steam away from mirror, revealing Marley's face, still sporting the brusies from the viscious onslaught that Herod unleashed on him when last we left him.] RM: I'm guessing this is the part where I'm supposed to say 'Wow... didn't expect a beating like that'. Or maybe 'This makes me question how much I want to be here'. Or even 'I want no part of that monster'... Don't hold your damned breath. Herod, you beat me bloody and left me lying in my own blood. Put a picture of it up on the fridge for your mom to see...not many people can make that claim. Cherish the moment. Grab onto it. Remember every detail. 'Cause you just started something that you have no idea how to finish. Wait for it Herod...but you're gonna bleed. Welcome to the next level. [Cut back to the studio. The screen behind Ditka shows the faces of Akitoshi Ogawa and "The Fallen Angel" David Cross.] DD: And rounding out next week's RAMPAGE will be a match between two big men, Japanese monster Akitoshi Ogawa and Pennsylvania native David Cross. Let's hear from Ogawa now: [We open on a distant light blurring in and out of focus. As the camera finally adjusts, we see a single bulb swinging from the ceiling, casting a faded yellow glow over the walls. As the camera lowers, we see Akitoshi Ogawa, dressed in only black gym shorts, standing before a large standing punching bag, which is facing towards the camera. He glistens with sweat as he darts in and out of the shot, unloading vicious kicks and right hands into the bag, his eyes seemingly focused on one spot. Suddenly, we hear Zeke Brackett bark something in Japanese, and Ogawa drops to the floor and begins a series of military style push-ups. Brackett gives another command, and Ogawa springs back to his feet and unleashes more strikes, his eyes never leaving his target. The camera pans away to Brackett, who is leaned against the far wall, his eyes set on Ogawa. He appears to be in deep thought. His eyebrows are slightly lowered and his jaw is set firmly. He brings his hand up and rubs his chin slowly, running his fingertips against his stubble. Without looking at the camera, he begins to speak. His voice is soft, yet clearly angry.] ZB: Let me quote you, David Cross. [He looks up, the corners of his mouth turning into an angry, if not amused, smile.] "The usual pond scum of the universe that takes those without education and knowledge and exploits their skills." [His eyes settle back onto Ogawa, who can still be heard battering the heavy bag with heavy kicks and punches.] ZB: You think Akitoshi Ogawa is uneducated? You think that I just lead him around on a leash and tell him when to attack? Oh my God, David. You honestly think that I control this man's every move? Take another look at him. [The camera turns to Ogawa, who is still attacking the bag. After a moment, it turns back to Brackett, who is now looking towards the lens. Brackett slowly raises his finger towards Ogawa.] ZB: That man is one of the most intelligent individuals to ever step into a wrestling ring. If he thought for a *SECOND* that I was double-crossing, sabotaging or taking advantage of him in any way, shape or form, he would destroy my ass just like anyone else. You might think I am nothing more than a good-for-nothing, low-down, evil son-of-a-bitch, Cross... [He pauses and brings his finger to his chest, pointing to himself.] ZB: ...but truth is that I am a good-for-nothing, low-down, evil son-of-a-bitch... with a friend. [His voices raises, his temper finally erupting. His eyes are wide and a crazed looks comes over him.] ZB: I *RESPECT* this man! I help this man train! I opened the doors of my home to this man ! I brought this man to America so he could continue his legacy! Don't you dare...not for *ONE* goddamn minute... accuse me of taking advantage of him! This man eats, sleeps and breathes wrestling! When he lays down at night, he dreams of snapping the neck of every man in this federation! [Brackett seems to calm himself somewhat, slumping back against the wall and turning his eyes once more to the training Ogawa. He runs his fingers through his hair and inhales deeply.] ZB: When Akitoshi Ogawa arrived in Portland, everyone here wrote him off as a novelty wrestler. They heard his story and just assumed he was another spot artist... no mat skills... not technique... no wrestling knowledge. They ignored the fact that he spent almost a year as a mixed martial arts fighter. They ignored that fact that this man's father, who was and still is one of the greatest wrestlers to ever come out of Japan and a man who was like a father to me, taught his son every submission move he knew. [He nods proudly, a content smile once again breaking on his face.] ZB: But you all know now. He might have been robbed in last week's match, but he proved his point well enough. Sure, this man can cave your skull in with the most vicious chair shot you will ever experience or handcuff you to the turnbuckle and take a pair of scissors to your forehead, but he also has no problem picking you apart. Exploiting your weaknesses. Locking in the Blackout and putting you to sleep, while all of your f*cking precious fans watch in awe. [Brackett barks another order in Japanese and we hear the thudding cease. Momentarily, Ogawa enters the shot, his massive body drenched in sweat, his chest heaving. Brackett says something, apparently encouraging, and smiles, Ogawa nodding in return. Zeke studies him for a second and turns back to the camera.] ZB: David Cross... you want to accuse Zeke Brackett? You want to underestimate Akitoshi Ogawa? You want to treat this match as showcase of how superior of a wrestler you are? You want to treat this as just another stepping stone in your career? We'll see how your opinion differs after next Thursday, when this man shows you what it's like when your mouth writes checks that your ass can't cash. [They start to walk off, but Brackett freezes, a though suddenly entering his mind.] ZB: Oh, and you, Mark Coleman? [He smiles devilishly, looking at Ogawa, who glances back at him before they both turn to the camera.] ZB: Make sure to be there. We wouldn't want you to miss out on the fun. [The two men walk out of the shot and the camera pans around to the punching bag. We hear the sound of a heavy door being slammed shut as the camera continues to turn towards the striking surface. As the light catches it, we see taped to the bag... where Ogawa was staring as he drilled it with strikes... an RCW promotional poster of Mark Coleman, his face barely recognizable through the ripped and wrinkled paper. Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Ogawa is focused on Mark Coleman, the man he brutally attacked three weeks ago, putting him on the shelf for a while. Coleman is just as focused on Ogawa, though -- as we saw last week on RAMPAGE when he came out to show Ogawa he's not forgotten about him. [The screen behind Don shows footage from last week's card. Focusing on the seven-man battle royal, Ogawa is shown grabbing hold of fellow newcomer Rick Marley and sending him to the ropes. On the rebound, he lifts him high, high upfor 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. The footage now jumps ahead a few minutes. In the ring, Nathan 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. The footage ends, and we cut back to Don Ditka in the studio.] DD: The new RCW Security team had its hands full last week, and that scene right there was only the tip of the iceberg. Ogawa made quite a splash since his "debut" a month ago, when he viciously assaulted Mark Coleman and put him in the hospital with severe throat trauma. He then followed that up with an impressive showing in his in-ring debut, eliminating Nathan Herod, as you just saw, after a vicious move that has been dubbed "The Shunji Sweet Sweeper." Zeke Brackett's charge has already made quite an impression on the RCW... but the one man he hasn't made much of an impression on is one Mark Coleman. It seems that Ogawa's assault from behind has infringed upon Coleman, who, in his short time here in the RCW, has proved he prefers a straight up, face-to-face confrontation more then anything else. I have no doubt that, at some point, Brackett's self-proclaimed "King of the Deathmatch" will grant him that confrontation... maybe this week! Due to his throat injuries, Coleman declined to be interviewed this week by RCW. However, he sent a unique message to Mr. Ogawa, through this show and myself... well, it's better shown then explained. [Ditka holds up something that may not be familiar to RCW viewers. It's a yellow slip of paper, crinkled, that Ditka unfolds to read. As he does so, the "Western Union" logo at the top becomes visible, making it obvious that the piece of paper is a telegram.] DD: Mr. Ditka, stop. Please read this message on air during "On the Wire," stop. This message is for Mr. Akitoshi Ogawa and Mr. Zeke Brackett, stop. Gentlemen, I am still waiting to see what you can do when we're face-to-face, stop. Hopefully, you have the... ahem... you have the balls to do such a thing, stop. Sincerely, M. Coleman, stop. [Ditka folds the paper back up, and puts it in his pocket of his sports coat as he moves on.] DD: Folks, that's RAMPAGE for next week. Right now, we have to take a commercial break -- but when we come back, we will be joined live and in person by "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder! Don't move a muscle! [Fade to commercials.] [Fade back to show Ditka seated in a comfortable chair. On the plasma screen behind him and to his left is an image of Brody Thunder. Ditka proceeds to speak in a very somber and serious tone.] DD: Welcome back, folks. April 20th, 2006. That is a date that will forever be etched in the minds of wrestling fans everywhere. That was the night that RCW was to honor a true wrestling legend: "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder. But what started out as a night of tribute and honor, wound up being a night-MARE of carnage and blood. [Cut to footage of "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder striding out into the aisle, pausing to accept the cheers of the crowd... Owen "Truth" Curtis and Eddie "Flash" Curtis coming down to the ring... Eddie posing Thunder, Curtis and Spreadbury for a photo... then Curtis slapping the Good Night and Good Luck sleeper on Thunder, then performing the Obituary suplex-piledriver on Thunder, onto the plaque,busting him open... A bloodied Thunder making his way back up the aisle under his own power. Over these scenes we hear Ditka's voice over.] DD: The vicious and seemingly unprovoked attack by Curtis left many fans with a single question on their minds: Why? Why did Curtis target Brody Thunder for such a heinous assault? It was a question we'd have to wait two weeks for but last week on Rampage, Owen Curtis finally broke his silence. [Cut to footage labeled "Rampage 5/4/2006". Owen "Truth" Curtis sits on the "set" of his interview segment called "The Ring of Truth" alongside Daniel Spreadbury.] 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? [Flash forwards to Curtis's response.] 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 ... 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... 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. [We hear Ditka's continued voice-over:] DD: Curtis then turned his attention to the victim of his brutal attack, Brody Thunder himself: [More footage from the segment:] OTC: ...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... [Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: And with that challenge Owen Curtis has thrown down the gauntlet, as it were, to Brody Thunder. It's been over a week now with no comment from the "Lone Wolf." Well fans, that silence ends tonight. Right here. Tonight's special guest is none other than Brody Thunder. [The camera shot widens to reveal Brody Thunder seated next to the desk.] DD: Mr Thunder, thank you for joining us here tonight. BT: Sure, m'pleasure. DD: Okay, let's get right to it. You've seen the footage. You've heard his comments. Owen Curtis claims he attacked you because he felt Daniel Spreadbury lacks faith in the RCW's current talent roster and their ability to make RCW one of the top wrestling promotions in the country. He says that the tribute held that night was a grandstanding ploy to boost ratings. Your response? [Thunder rubs his stubbled jaw for a second before answering.] BT: Bull[BLEEP]t. DD: Ahem... ah, well... I can understand that senti-- BT: I don't know Owen Curtis from a flamin' hole-in-the-wall. I get an invite ta come ta Portland for a nice lil surprise and honor an' I leave wearin' my blood all over me. Now I'm supposed ta believe that some guy has a hair across his ass jus' cuz he thinks Spreadbury's got no confidence in his lockerrooms? That's one hunnerd percent gen-u-ine bullsh-- DD: Mr Thunder, please. I know this is touchy situation but-- BT: Lemme tell you somethin'. The only reason... the *ONLY* reason I haven't taken that runt ta the woodshed is BECAUSE o' Spreadbury. Y'see I'm not a member of the RCW. I don't have a contract or license with the promotion. DD: What exactly IS your wrestling status these days? BT: I'm relaxin' these days. That doesn't mean I'm retired now, hoss. It jus' means I can pick and choose when I want to work. Most of the last year I spent over in Japan an' makin' good money there. I returned state-side back in February and have been spendin' most o'my time on my ranch in Arizona. DD: Are you looking to compete again here in the states? BT: I never rule out anythin', amigo. If the right deal came up, who knows? DD: Would you want to wrestle Curtis? You've heard the challenge. BT: Yeah, I heard that bag o'gas bumpin' his gums 'bout how he'd wrestle circles 'round an' all that. I've heard it before. From Watkins... from Kowalski... from Requiem... from jus' about everyone I've ever stared across the ring at. I'm still here. These days when I hear that bullpucky I jus' try to ignor it. I can't let every idjit with a pair o'wrestlin' boots an' chip on his shoulder dictate my career these days. DD: So... you're going to ignore Curtis' challenge? BT: I didn't say that. Y'see what Curtis did was beyond some fame-hungry moron lookin' ta cash in on his fifteen minutes o' fame at my expense. That night was special. It was a night intended to be a night I'd always remember for the memories I've had in Portland. Now... I'll remember that night alright. But with different memories. Memories that haunt my dreams, memories I relive every time I close my eyes. Memories I can't forget. DD: So then you think you-- BT: Everytime I look in the mirror I ask myself what should I do? AN' honestly? At this point I jus' don't know that answer. DD: Curtis's suspension is not due to be lifted until after the next RAMPAGE. Rumor has it you're going to show there. Any truth to that rumor? BT: I've heard the rumors. 'Bout the only thing I can say ta that is... stay tuned. This... this _thing_ with Curtis? It's like a toothache. It aches an' aches an' aches until you get it taken care o'. Maybe I need ta take o' things. [Thunder pauses in thought for a moment.] BT: Yeah... maybe I need ta take care o' things. _My_ way. [Thunder abruptly stands up and walks off the set, leaving a somewhat confused and flustered Ditka at the desk.] DD: Well fans... I'm not sure what that means but I know I'm not going to miss next Thursday's RAMPAGE, that's for sure. We'll be right back. [Fade to commercials.] [Fade back to Ditka, now leaning on the front of his glass-topped desk, the plasma screen behind the desk now showing the Ticketmaster logo.] DD: Folks, that's going to do it for tonight's On The Wire. We'll be back in seven short days with another blockbusting edition of RCW RAMPAGE, coming at you *live* from the Rose Garden in beautiful downtown Portland. Will Brody Thunder be there? Don't miss one moment of the action -- get your tickets in person from the Rose Garden box office, or click onto www.ticketmaster.com. Until next week, this is the voice of RCW, Don Ditka, wishing you a good night, everybody! [As the lights in the studio fade, Ditka shuffles the papers in his hand and places them on the desk behind him, before walking out of shot as the camera tracks upwards, focusing on the large blue RCW logo mounted on the set above the desk as we fade to black.] ____________________________________________________________________ / Copyright (C) 2006 Rip City Wrestling, Inc. All rights reserved. / / www.ripcitywrestling.com / /___________________________________________________________________/