[The high-tempo heavy guitar riff of Black Sabbath's "The Mob Rules" thrashes away as we see footage from previous RCW matches...] # Close the city and tell the people that # something's coming to call # Death and darkness are rushing forward to # take a bite from the wall, oh [...We see scenes from the Debutants' Brawl Battle Royal... Rick Marley hits Christian Right with a neckbreaker... Akitoshi Ogawa drops the leg on Marley's throat... Nathan Herod goes to attack Derek Rage, but Rage intimidates him into begging off, and Herod backs away into a dropkick from Marley... Marley hits a hurricanrana on Akitoshi Ogawa...] # You've nothing to say # They're breaking away # If you listen to fools... # The mob rules # The mob rules [...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!...] # Kill the spirit and you'll be blinded, # the end is always the same # Play with fire, you burn your fingers and # lose your hold of the flame, oh [...Derek Rage sends Bryant flying with a dragon screw leg whip... Rage presses Bryant above his head... Rage hits Bryant with a backdrop driver...] # It's over, it's done # The end is begun # If you listen to fools... # The mob rules [...Ryan Faith unloads on Madrock the Irrepressible... 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... 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...] # You've nothing to say # Oh, they're breaking away # If you listen to fools... [...Nolan Dorado pelts down the aisle, hitting Vinny Carmazzi from behind... Dorado launches himself off the ring barrier with his Golden Guillotine forward somersault, landing hard with his leg across Carmazzi's throat!...] # Break the circle and stop the movement, # the wheel is thrown to the ground # Just remember it might start rolling and # take you right back around [...RCW Champion Johnny Pleasence drops "Your Hero" Dany Daniels chest-first on the crowd barriers... Daniels is sent careening over the ringsteps... Pleasence suplexes Daniels on the thin ringside padding... Pleasence with a backdrop driver on Daniels... Daniels with a powerslam on Pleasence... Daniels with a running kneelift to the champion... Daniels hits his TOODLES~! diving headbutt from the second buckle... Pleasence just kicks out... Pleasence hits Daniels at the second time of asking, then hits the Manchester Driver... 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!] # You're all fools! # The mob rules! [...the logo crashes onto the screen in an explosion of sparks and flame:] ___ ______ __ ___ ___ __ ______ ___ _________ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / _ \/ _ | / |/ / _ \/ _ |/ ___/ __/ / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / / , _/ __ |/ /|_/ / ___/ __ / (_ / _/ /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ /_/|_/_/ |_/_/ /_/_/ /_/ |_\___/___/ LIVE! Rose Garden, Portland, OR Thursday 18 May 2006 [The graphics smash through the screen in an explosion of flame and sparks, revealing a wide shot from high in the rafters of the Rose Garden, spotlights sweeping over the sold-out crowd. Fireworks erupt from the lighting rig in the centre of the arena, showers of sparks raining down, rockets screaming from the lighting rig to the big blue RCW logo above the giant screen at the head of the aisle. Over these scenes we hear the voiceover of Don Ditka:] DD: Welcome everybody to the Rose Garden! Welcome everybody to Portland, Oregon! Welcome to the hottest hour of wrestling action anywhere in America! Welcome... to RCW RAMPAGE! [Cut to shots panning over the crowd, over fans cheering and waving, holding signs like "MARRY ME MATILDA", "I'M WITH STUPID", "WINE DINAH 69". Eventually the shot comes to rest on the broadcast table, in front of which, as is by now customary, stand Don Ditka and "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare, both men holding microphones. Ditka, as ever, wears his RCW sports jacket and an open-necked shirt, while Shakespeare wears a denim jacket with the happy/sad theatrical masks embroidered on the breast.] DD: We are coming at you *live* tonight on KPDX 49! I'm the voice of RCW, Don Ditka, and beside me as always is my broadcast colleague, "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare. BS: It is, as always, an honour, Don. DD: Folks, we have got an absolutely jam-packed hour for you here tonight, with no fewer than five blockbuster matches! We'll see Lord Byron step back into a professional wrestling ring for the first time in years. We'll see "Pistol" Paul Driscoll shoot for retribution against the man who laid him out two weeks ago, Ryan Faith. We'll see tag team turmoil. But... unfortunately, we have to start tonight's show with something a whole lot less exciting than that. [Cut to a shot of the ring, which has been festooned with a blue rug on the canvas. A desk is in the middle of the ring, along with a couple of chairs to the side of it.] DD: Yes, I'm afraid we're to be joined by Owen "Truth" Curtis. [Over the loudspeakers, the intro to "Would I Lie to You?" by the Eurhythmics -- a throbbing beat supported by snarling guitars and thumping drums -- plays. As the intro to the song shifts to the trumpeting horns, a logo appears on the big screen confirming what Shakespeare and Ditka feared. It reads...] /\______________/\ /XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX/ /XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX/ \/====/XXXX/====\/ /XXXX/_ ____ _ _ _ ____ ____ ____ /XXXXXX/ ____ _ _ ___ _ _ |__/ | |\ | | __ | | |___ ==XXXX/_ |__/ | | | |__| | \ | | \| |__] |__| | /XXXXX/ | \ |__| | | | ==XXX/ lX/ l/ with Owen Curtis [Owen appears at the entrance portal, clad in a charcoal pinstriped three-piece suit with light blue shirt and dark blue tie... wearing a green "Truth visor" on his head. As he's beaming, the crowd is steaming. And screaming. And throwing things at him.] BS: This crowd could never love Owen as much as he loves himself, so why bother loving him at all? DD: That certainly sums up how these people feel tonight. But here's a question. Last time, Owen had none other than Dan Spreadbury as his guest. A legal settlement says Owen can have anyone he wants on the show, willing or not, as long as they are under RCW contract. So who will it be this time? Any guesses? BS: I wouldn't... [Before Shakespeare can answer fully, the lyrics come in...] # Would I lie to you? # Would I lie to you, honey? # Now would I say something that wasn't true? # I'm asking you, sugar, would I lie-ie-ie to you? [By now, Owen has reached the ring... and the music fades out. Owen waits for the crowd's chants of "CUR-TIS SUCKS! CUR-TIS SUCKS!" to die down. Only then, Owen speaks, in a booming voice...] OTC: WELCOME... to the Ring of Truth. I'm your host, Owen Curtis. [He moves over to his host's chair, and takes a seat, crossing one leg over the other and smiling slyly.] OTC: All right. It feels _good_ to be here. Now, I don't mean to disparage the efforts of others, but sometimes, it takes a real professional to bring the Truth out. Someone with real interviewing talent. Someone, in other words, not named Don Ditka or Billy Shakespeare. Hence, the existence of this show. DD: Give me a break. OTC: he Ring of Truth is here to provide viewers with the revealing insight that can only come from someone with my abilities. And you will see that with the arrival of my next guest. [Owen shifts himself in his chair.] OTC: Now, as you know, I have a broad subpoena power to bring any RCW employee out here... but nowhere does it say I _have to_ bring out a RCW employee. It could also be someone that is not under an RCW contract... and that description applies here, simply because I have THAT KIND of pull to bring in the big guests. Without further ado... I hereby welcome... to the Ring of Truth... [Owen pauses.] DD: Not under contract. Any guesses now? BS: I have one, but there's no way it's going to happen. Owen's gotta be pulling our leg. [Owen opens his mouth, and says...] OTC: ...the "Lone Wolf"... Brooooooooooooody... Thunder! [The theme from "High Plains Drifter" plays over the loudspeakers, the arena darkens, and a spotlight shines on the entrance portal.] BS: No way. DD: I have my own doubts, but think about it. What does Brody have to fear by meeting Owen Curtis, face to face? Nothing. He'd be out here in a *second* to give this arrogant jerk the what for. BS: I think Owen would disagree, pointing to what he did to Thunder four weeks ago. Brody has a lot to fear... and I reluctantly agree. [On the big screen, the Thunder "T" appears...] /\______________/\ /XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX/ /XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX/ \/====/XXXX/====\/ /XXXX/_ /XXXXXX/ ==XXXX/_ /XXXXX/ ==XXX/ lX/ l/ [...and out comes Brody Thunder.] DD: You have got to be kidding me. [Or, more accurately, "Brody Thunder."] BS: That's about all you *can* say, Don. [Indeed. "Brody Thunder" is wearing black boots, black trunks, a black T-shirt and a ginormous cowboy hat, just like the real McCoy, but clearly this is a thinly disguised Eddie "Flash" Curtis.] BS: That's... that's just really bad. ["Brody" has a shirt that says, in red letters, not "EVIL, MEAN & NASTY", but "FEEBLE, GREEN & PASTY." He is pushing a walker with a South Dakota license plate that says "OLD*FART". Eventually, he makes it to the ring -- mostly because Owen has motioned the ring crew members who set up his "set" to go get "Thunder" and carry him. They set "Thunder" down in the ring. Owen speaks.] OTC: Welcome, Brody. ["Brody" just stands there nodding his head and drooling.] OTC: Now, first up, the Truth is never one to avoid making a correction, and I owe you one. See, last week I said you were off "roping steers and chasing queers," and that was not only inaccurate, but way off base. It was defamatory, hurtful and misleading to my viewers, and for that, I offer a complete and sincere apology. ["Brody" smiles, then speaks in his best "Yosemite Sam" accent.] "BT": Damn right. Yah should have said "roping *queers* and chasing *steers*." And if'n yah makes a mistake like that again, it might be fahtin' werds. Ah might even go totally Rambo on you and challenge you to a game of Indian poker! Yee-haw! [He whips a Two of Hearts out of his pocket and sticks it on his forehead like an Indian feather. When he lets go, it stays stuck.] OTC: Wow. That's some forehead grease you got going there. You been rubbing Ben Gay on it or something? But man, I gotta ask, with no disrespect intended ... cowpoke, have you _aged_ in the four weeks since I completely humiliated you and kicked your ass? I mean, you look older than Tecumseh! ["Brody" strokes his chin stubble just a bit.] "BT": Ahh resent that. Ah mean, mah balls may now be the size of Sun Maid Raisins... and mah courage may be yet smaller... and mah brain may be yet smaller still, but... never mind. Ah'm old and that's all thar is to it. Thank Gahhhhd for Metter-mucil. Speaking of which... [He grunts, groans, and clenches his teeth visibly.] "BT": Nevah mind. Yah see, ever time I see yah, Owen, ah put'ner sht mahself outta feah. Ah'm all done now. [Owen waves at his nose as if something REALLY stinks.] OTC: Sheesh. _Now_ I know why you're called Thunder. You've been eating too many prunes again. But... [Owen reaches over to the lanyard hanging around the neck of "Brody".] OTC: ...Hey, what's this?! [Going through the items hanging on the lanyard.] OTC: AARP card... ARC card... Medicaid card... Club Cal-Neva slot club card... handicapped parking permit... Westward Ho Casino slot club card... MedicAlert pendant, in case you've fallen and can't get up... damn! This is your whole life's story on a string! [But one in particular catches him.] OTC: [shaking his head] Oh, Brody, Brody, Brody. What's this? _"Do not resuscitate?!?"_ Have I really made you give up on life? "BT": Nah, ah already decided that thar for society's sake. Fact, ah'd kill myself right now and donate mah organs if'n they didn't have so many miles on 'em. OTC: I bet science would find them interesting ... and by that I mean "Elephant Man" interesting. I don't want to be responsible for an elderly suicide, though, so I'll stop running you down now. "BT": 'Preciate that, padre. Ah get the runs enough as it is. Ah... [The arena goes black again.] VOICE: Shut the hell up! [All eyes shift directly to the entrance area. Then Brody Thunder steps out into view. The arena erupts with applause as he slowly makes his way out, no smile adorning his grizzled face as he heads down to the ring with a purposeful stride and mic in hand.] BT: I've had jus' about enough! [Thunder steps thru the ropes...] BT: I've had enough o' this whole damned thing! [...and walks directly towards Curtis.] BT: An' I'm gawdamn sick o'*you*! ["Brody," meaning Eddie, takes a step forward but the REAL Thunder stops and points a menacing finger in his face.] BT: If you don't wanna be pickin' metal scraps outta yer southern hemisphere, I'd suggest you leave. *NOW*. [Thunder takes a swat at Eddie ÒBrodyÓ Curtis, who ducks to avoid it and falls down. The ersatz ÒBrody ThunderÓ scrambles out of the ring. Thunder then continues his path to within a couple feet of Owen Curtis. Curtis stands his ground however.] OTC: Hold it right there. YouÕre not supposed to be here, because -- [Thunder leans toward Curtis and cuts him off.] BT: I said *shut*up*. You've run yer mouth out here now it's yer turn ta listen, runt. Now I don't know what yer flamin' problem with me is, ace, an' frankly I don't give a tinker's damn at this point. But I'm sick an' tired o'this lil cat-n-mouse game o'yers so let's jus' cut to the chase. Now you evidently got a hair 'cross yer ass fer me. That's fine cuz lord knows I ain't never been Mr Popularity in this business so I ain't exactly gonna lose any sleep over that. Can live with that. But what I can't live with is what you did to me a few weeks ago right in this ring. OTC: Live with it? You donÕt have a choice. See, I did this wrestling organization a *favor*. I made a pre-emptive strike against a hypocritical ownership. I signed up here to build a future, but President Dan canÕt stop falling back on old habits and promoting the old boys network. He insists on dragging out dinosaurs like you, propping you up in the limelight, instead of showcasing the real talent here. This isn't your era anymore, old man. Times change. It's time for the new blood to -- BT: Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard alla that before. Thunder yer old. Thunder yer history. Thunder yer time's passed. If I had a nickel fer everytime I heard that BS I'd have been retired long ago. OTC: You SHOULD retire, because your brain is so far gone you canÕt tell BS from the Truth. Name one thing you've done in this sport in the last five years that's amounted to anything? See? You can't. You're passe, Thunder. An antique in a modern world. All I did when I hit you with that plaque was give you a wake up call. It's not 1997 anymore. It's 2006 and it's time for you to ride off into that sunset. And make no mistake, Thunder, you WILL ride off -- either in a limousine, or in a pine box. Your choice. [Thunder, his blood pressure obviously rising, runs a meaty hand down over his face.] BT: You don't get it, do ya runt? When you hit me with that plaque you gave me a wake up call alright. That's why I decided to come here tonight. To do jus' what I told you I'd do the next time I saw you. OTC: Hold on, Thunder. I told you to come here and find me -- and you did -- but thereÕs one problem. You are *not* employed by RCW and I know for a fact that you are *not* an invited guest tonight. I also know this is *my* show, and my right to conduct it as I see fit is protected by a legal agreement. So let me tell *you* what you're going to do, Thunder. You're going to take your quaint cowboy cliches and your fossilized moral brow-beating and you're going to leave this ring. Period. Or else I'll see to it that security does their job and escorts you from this building. [Thunder stands there staring at the confident Curtis in disbelief. He nods his head and throws his hands up in apparent resignation.] BT: You're right. You're right. I don't have any *official* business in this ring. [Thunder turns away from Curtis heading towards the ropes.] BT: An' yeah É I don't have a contract with RCW. [Thunder begins to step thru the ropes and leave.] OTC: Well I'm glad you've finally seen The Truth. [Thunder pauses , straddling the ring ropes.] BT: Yeah, well... you're right about all them things an' I'm sure that security here would do their job an' try an' stop me from wringin' that stack o'dimes you call a neck... but you fergot one thing, Curtis. The most important thing o'all. OTC: And that would be... what, exactly? [Thunder steps completely back in the ring, turns around and faces Curtis once again. A wry grin appears on his face.] BT: I jus' don't care. [Thunder throws down the mic and starts after Curtis but before he can get across the ring another voice is heard.] VOICE: HOLD IT RIGHT THERE! [ÒThe Mob RulesÓ by Black Sabbath rings out through the loudspeakers Ð meaning only one thing. Someone steps out through the entrance portal, and he is carrying a leather satchel.] DD: Dan Spreadbury! The president of Rip City Wrestling is on his way out to this ring! BS: Not a moment too soon. This confrontation was about to get way out of hand. We were on our way to an unsanctioned match, right here in the Rose Garden! [Spreadbury arrives in the ring, as Thunder and Curtis stand apart in the ring, glaring at each other. He procures a microphone.] DS: Could you two PLEASE dial it down for a second? Because what I have right here in this briefcase is going to make you BOTH very, very happy. [He reaches into the satchel and whips out papers.] DS: IÕll get right to the point. This is a Rip City contract -- and it has Brody ThunderÕs name right at the bottom. IÕve already signed it, and now it needs just one more signature. [He points to Brody.] DS: YOURS. [HUGE CROWD POP! Owen starts to step in, as if to interfere. Spreadbury turns and faces him, taking a step towards him.] DS: [impatiently] What, Owen? Are you gonna do something about it, and if so, what? Because you are the Truth, right? Which means you supposedly never lie Ð right? And you said if you ever got in a match with Brody Thunder, you would wrestle, I believe you said, Òcircles, squares, trapezoids, parallelograms,Ó around him. Right? [Owen nods.] DS: Well, if Brody signs that contract, then YOU get your match. The one you *said* you wanted. [Owen nods, pleased.] OTC: Now weÕre getting somewhere. You heard the man, Brody. Just sign the deal and face me. And when you do -- youÕre signing your own career death warrant. [Thunder shrugs and looks to the crowd, which roars its approval. He looks at Spreadbury, who smiles and nods. And then -- Thunder applies his signature to a huge pop!] OTC: I just want you to know -- the end of your career is just months or even weeks away. I -- [Spreadbury cuts him off.] DS: But Owen, that -- as you love to put it -- is not the Truth! YouÕre not facing Thunder next month, and youÕre NOT facing him in two weeks! YouÕre facing him *tonight*, in the *main event*! [HUGE, SUSTAINED CROWD POP!] DD: Unbelievable! Brody Thunder is now under contract -- and heÕs taking on Owen ÒTruthÓ Curtis, right here, tonight, at the Rose Garden! BS: ThatÕs monumental! Like him or not, Owen Curtis has made one of the biggest splashes since RCW got started Ð but that could all change in a hurry! HeÕs in the sights of the Lone Wolf! HeÕs *prey* now! [Owen just stands there, smugly smiling. And nodding. Then he starts shaking his head, his grin growing wider.] OTC: Nice try, Spreadbury. But thereÕs one little old problem with what youÕre saying. [Owen struts right on over to Dan Spreadbury and sneers in his face.] OTC: DonÕt you remember? CanÕt you do math? You handed me a 28-day suspension. And it was effective _how_ long ago? 28 days. Meaning, just in case you canÕt do math, IÕm _suspended_ from active competition for one last night, that being tonight. If this card were tomorrow, we could go. IÕd take Brody right out and send the old bastard to Boot Hill, as it were. But unfortunately, itÕs tonight. My hands are tied -- and you tied them. You live with *that*, Danny Boy. See you in two weeks, Danny Boy. Hit my music -- this show is over. [He drops the mic with a great flourish and heads for the ropes. ÒWould I Lie To YouÓ plays. The two announcers are silent.] BS: HeÕs got him there... I guess. DD: WeÕd all like to see this match tonight, but Owen Curtis seems to have outsmarted the management for the second RAMPAGE in a row. You donÕt reckon OwenÕs scared, do you? BS: He wouldnÕt tell you. HeÕd say a suspensionÕs a suspension. [...but suddenly, the music quickly fades out, as Spreadbury holds up the ÒcutÓ sign.] DS: WRONG, Owen. [Owen stops dead in his tracks Ð- halfway down the aisle.] DS: YouÕre not suspended, Owen because IÕm the one that suspended you Ð- and IÕm lifting it one night early! I hope you brought your gear, Ôcause youÕre wearing it tonight Ð- hopefully along with your own blood, like Brody here did four weeks ago! [HUGE CROWD POP!] DD: Wow. BS: Finally, someone puts Owen Curtis in his place. And someone else is going to do the same later on tonight! [Owen glares at Spreadbury Ð- then he glares at Thunder Ð- then Spreadbury Ð- then Thunder. He approaches the ring Ð- but then he waves them both off with two hands and turns around.] DD: Owen Curtis canÕt appeal the decision to lift his suspension, can he? BS: No -Ð but IÕm sure heÕd like to! No judge in the land is gonna buy that argument! Not even Charlie ChesapeakeÕs uncle! DD: He has an uncle? BS: How should I know? The point is, Brody Thunder gets a fair shot at Owen Curtis tonight Ð and that doesnÕt look good for Curtis! DD: It sure doesn't. Folks, we have to take a break -- we'll be right back! [ÒHigh Plains DrifterÓ plays, as Owen retreats backwards down the aisle -Ð staring all the while at Brody Thunder, who remains in the ring, soaking up the cheers of the crowd. Owen exits the portal.] [Fade back from commercials. The ring has been cleared of the paraphernalia of Owen Curtis's talk show segment. Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Welcome back, folks. I cannot believe what we've just witnessed... RCW President Daniel Spreadbury has lifted Owen Curtis's suspension, and he will be wrestling Brody Thunder, right here... tonight! BS: Finally Brody Thunder can beat some sense into Owen Curtis. It's going to be huge. DD: It really is. But, folks, we've got plenty of other blockbuster action to come before that huge match. Let's get up to the ring for tonight's opening encounter. ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / Nathan Herod vs. "Showtime" Rick Marley /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Sy Simmons stands in the middle of the ring.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's opening match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first... [As the guitar and piano opening of "Sweet Home Alabama" kicks in over the PA, Sy Simmons raises his microphone to his lips.] SS: ...accompanied to the ring by Mick Silvestri... hailing from the Herod Estate, Alabama, and weighing in at 270lbs... here is... NAAAAAAAAATHAAAAN HEEEEEEEEROD! # Sweet Home Alabama # Where the skies are so blue # Sweet Home Alabama # Lord, I'm coming home to you... [Lyrnyrd Skynyrd is rudely intterupted by gunfire and screeching wheels before "Immortally Insane" by Pantera starts to blast over the PA. Only now does the Nathan Herod step into the aisle, the corner of his mouth raised in a perpetual sneer. The Southerner is closely followed by "Smiling" Mick Silvestri, who claps his hands all the way and talks animatedly to Herod who does not seem to acknowledge him.] # Suvivors will rise from strength and brain # The skulls of rivals lay in rows on the sand # The seeds of breeding swallow the waste # Creating more for the next war DD: And here he comes, Billy Shakespeare. Nathan Herod may be as green as grass, but he showed us two weeks ago that he has a mean streak a mile wide. BS: He went absolutely berzerk on "Showtime" Rick Marley in the Debutants' Brawl Battle Royal two weeks ago. DD: I don't think we've even seen the half of what Nathan Herod is capable of yet. [As the haunting song continues, Herod and Silvestri reach the ring. While Nathan rolls in under the ropes, his manager starts to point at the referee, giving him a piece of his mind before the match starts. Nathan just moves into his corner and stares into empty space, his fists clenching and unclenching in rythm to the music.] # Destroying, destroying # Foundation, foundation # On-going, on-going # Forever, Forever # Immortally insane # Immortally insane # Immortally insane # Immortally insane [The music fades as Simmons brings his microphone back to his lips again.] SS: And introducing his opponent... # Look... if you had... one shot, or one opportunity # To seize everything you ever wanted... # in one moment Would you capture it... or just let it slip? Yo.. [The arena lights dim as laser lights begin to play around the roof of the arena for a five count. Suddenly, a pair of white pyro bursts set in time with the bass drum light up the entry way as "Lose Yourself" by Eminem floods the PA system.] SS: ...hailing from Allentown, Pennsylvania, and weighing in at 215lbs... here is... "SHHOOOOOOOWWWWTIME" RIIIIIIIICK MAAAAAARLEY! [Moderate pop as Rick Marley makes his way to the ring. The fair-skinned light heavyweight has his long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and wears a midnight blue set of long-legged trunks with the word "Showtime" stitched across the butt. White spotlights trail up from his black boots and cascade up the pant legs.] DD: Here he comes, Billy Shakespeare. A young man who's not yet had the opportunity to show us what he's made of. BS: I'm sure he'll be out to prove himself here tonight, Don, particularly against Nathan Herod, who is, as you've said, as green as grass. [Marley slaps hands with the fans at ringside until he is about 15 feet from the ring, at which point he sprints the distance, sliding under the bottom rope, striding across the squared circle to climb to the second rope in front of the announcer's table, where he raises both hands to the crowd. Pop!] DD: And as Marley jumps down into the ring, just look at the difference in size between these two men. BS: There's a good six inches in height between them, not to mention Herod's fifty-plus-pound weight advantage. DD: Marley's going to have to be quick, hit and run, in this match. [As the music fades and Simmons leaves the ring, Marley muscles up to Herod in the middle of the ring, showing no fear whatsoever. Marley looks up into the face of the bigger man and jaws at him, the camera unable to pick up what he's saying. As official Bobby Belshee moves to the middle of the ring, Marley winds up and hits Herod square in the face with an open-handed slap! Big pop!] DD: Oh boy -- Marley's adopting a risky strategy here, Billy Shakespeare. Why would Marley deliberately try to get Herod riled up, when he knows first-hand what Herod can do when he snaps?! [Belshee signals for the bell...] * DING! DING! DING! * [...as Herod charges in! Marley slips out of the way and drops Herod with a drop toe-hold! Pop! Herod pops up and charges in again, this time being tossed with an impressive hiptoss from the smaller man! Pop! Herod comes back again, and this time is knocked off his feet by a standing dropkick from Marley! Big pop!] DD: Wow! Marley starting this match at a hundred miles an hour, and we can immediately see his strategy. BS: Hit Herod hard and fast, and keep him angry to stop him thinking straight. We'll see how well it works out. [Herod tumbles backwards over the ropes from the force of the dropkick, landing on the arena floor. As he picks himself up, Marley bounces off the ropes on the other side of the ring, then hurls himself over the top rope, landing hard on Herod with a stunning plancha! Big pop!] DD: What a tremendous plancha from Marley! [Marley picks himself up, then drags Herod to his feet, and rolls him back into the ring. As Herod rolls back to a standing position, Marley nimbly leaps to the apron, then onto the top rope, and then springboards himself into the ring, hitting a Frankensteiner on Herod that snaps him to the mat! Big pop! On the outside, Silvestri begins to look nervous.] DD: Marley is just too quick for Herod here in the early-going, Billy Shakespeare. [Marley pops right back to his feet and goes to the corner, stepping out through the ropes and climbing to the top turnbuckle. He launches himself with a moonsault -- and lands it sweetly on Herod! Marley bounces off the big man, but immediately drops back onto him to make the cover. Belshee makes the count... 1... ...and Herod kicks out! Heel pop!] DD: Great moonsault from Marley, but it's going to take more than that to put a hoss like Herod away. [Silvestri encourages his charge to take control of the match as both men get back to their feet. Marley bounces off the ropes and launches himself with a flying forearm, knocking Herod off his feet! Pop! Herod rolls to the outside to regroup, and Marley rolls out of the ring on the opposite side. Marley goes to the timekeeper's table and grabs a steel chair, prompting Belshee to immediately get out of the ring and position himself between Marley and Herod.] DD: Rick Marley going for an equaliser here right away, Billy! BS: Marley's still sporting the wound that Herod opened up on him two weeks ago, Don. You can't blame him for wanting to hit back on the big man. [Marley pushes past Belshee and rounds the ring, brandishing the chair. Herod spins around to see Marley approaching. Marley winds up to hit Herod... but then tosses the chair at the big man, who catches it, bewildered. Marley quickly drops to his knees and brings his forearm up sharply between Herod's legs! Big sympathetic intake of breath from all the men in the crowd!] DD: Marley brings Herod up short with a low blow -- and now he's rolling the big man into the ring. BS: Marley has been running rings around Herod so far. He's wearing the big man down. [The crowd cheers as Marley hops back into the ring and pulls Herod back to his feet. Marley goes to whip Herod into the corner buckles, but Nathan reverses, sending Marley for the ride, and chasing in behind him. Marley dives head-first and slides on his belly out of the ring, tucking and rolling to his feet on the outside -- meanwhile, Herod hits chest-first into the corner! Big pop!] DD: Oh my! Herod has been winded by that shot -- and now Marley's right back up on top! [Marley leaps from the floor to the apron, and then to the top buckle... and then launches himself at Herod, swinging around and planting him to the canvas! Big pop!] BS: Beautiful tornado DDT! DD: And now Marley makes the cover! [Belshee drops to make the count... 1... 2... ...but Herod kicks out! Disappointed pop!] DD: Still not quite enough to put the Alabama native away! [Marley flips Herod over and grabs hold of his leg, then grabs hold of his other leg, and grapevines them... then leans back! Big pop as Herod yells out in pain!] DD: Sharpshooter! Marley has Herod in the sharpshooter! BS: And Herod doesn't have a clue what to do, Don! Look at him in there! [Herod's face is etched in something resembling panic as he simply lies there in Marley's hold, apparently unable to counter the sharpshooter in any way. Silvestri, sensing that Herod is in trouble, hops up onto the apron, and yells at Marley, who relinquishes the hold and lunges at Silvestri, grabbing hold of the manager by the lapels of his fancy jacket. Big pop! Behind Marley, Herod gets back to his feet, a little slowed down, and charges at Marley, who is caught from behind by a knee to the kidney. Silvestri tumbles to the floor as Marley is doubled over by the shot, and staggers back into the ring, to be met by a knee lift from Herod, snapping him to the mat!] DD: Thanks to his manager, the tide of this match has turned in favour of Nathan Herod. BS: Herod needs to slow Marley down, keep him on the mat, hit him with high-impact moves. [Marley gets back to his feet, and Herod sends him for the ride, clubbing him to the mat with a big clothesline on the return. Big heel pop! Herod immediately drops onto Marley and starts gouging away at the cruiserweight's head, Bobby Belshee warning Herod and putting the five count on him.] DD: Herod is trying to open up that wound he inflicted on Marley two weeks ago! BS: And it looks like he's managed it, Don! Marley is busted open again! DD: Folks, we'll be right back after these messages! [Fade to commercials.] [Fade back from commercials. We see a split-screen, with footage captioned "DURING THE BREAK" on the left and live action on the right. The footage on the left shows Herod dominating Marley, who is bleeding more and more from a cut on his forehead.] DD: Welcome back, folks. During the break, Nathan Herod has been taking advantage of having opened up a cut on the forehead of Rick Marley, and he's been dominating the match. BS: Marley is in big trouble in there, Don. Herod's superior power and strength is costing him big time right now. [The split-screen disappears as Herod sends Marley into the ropes. On the return, Herod gets underneath Marley and hoists him up above his head in a gorilla press! Big heel pop! Herod walks around the ring with Marley above his head in a tremendous display of strength, and then tosses him off to the side. As Herod pumps his upper body muscles for the crowd, he doesn't realise that Marley has landed on his feet!] DD: Marley, cat-like, lands on his feet, and Herod now turns -- SUPERKICK! [Marley hits Herod with a tremendous superkick, and collapses to the mat with the exertion, both men down in the middle of the ring! Belshee puts the count on both men.] DD: Herod is seeing stars right now, but Marley's been bleeding heavily for some time now, and he's got to be feeling weaker now. [As Belshee's count reaches five, both men begin to stir, the crowd starting to chant "MAR-LEY! MAR-LEY!" On the outside, Silvestri pounds the mat to encourage his man back to his feet. Herod and Marley get back to their feet in the middle of the ring. Marley bounces off the ropes, and charges at Herod... who grabs at him, getting hold of one leg, slinging the other over his shoulder...] DD: Here it comes! The Herod Dynasty Devastator! [As Herod hoists Marley up, Marley kicks up with his free leg, propelling himself higher into the air, twisting in mid-air and straightening his legs, whipping them down while holding onto Herod's neck, slamming him to the mat with an inverted DDT! Huge pop!] BS: No! Marley has the HDD well-scouted! He counters with the ReWrite! DD: Is that enough to put Herod away?! [Marley rolls onto Herod as Belshee drops to make the count... 1... 2... ...3! Huge, huge pop!] * DING! DING! DING! * DD: It is enough! Marley pins Herod! [As the bloodied Marley stands, he wipes a trickle of blood out of his eyes, and allows Belshee to raise his arm in victory.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner, by pinfall... "SHOOOOWTIIIIIME" RIIIIIIIICK MAAAAAAAARLEY! [Big pop as the chorus of "Lose Yourself" kicks in over the PA again and Marley climbs to the buckles, thrusting his arms in the air to the delight of the crowd. Meanwhile, Herod furiously rolls out of the ring and grabs the steel chair discarded earlier in the match.] DD: Oh... oh, this could be bad, Billy Shakespeare. Get out of there, Marley! BS: Herod is furious at his loss here tonight, Don, but it simply came down to inexperience. Herod's promising, and he's strong as an ox with a vicious streak a mile wide, but he's a rookie, and tonight he made a rookie mistake. DD: And now it looks like Rick Marley is going to pay for that mistake! [Herod charges back into the ring with the steel chair, and takes a wild swing at Marley, hitting him hard on his back and knocking the cruiserweight from the second buckle to the outside and to the floor, where he lands in a heap! Huge heel pop!] DD: Absolutely no sportsmanship displayed here by Nathan Herod, Billy Shakespeare! Disgusting! BS: Here comes security! [Four security personnel swarm down the aisle and surround Rick Marley on the floor as Mick Silvestri climbs into the ring, keeping his distance from his enraged charge, but trying to soothe him with calming words.] DD: Even Silvestri won't go near Herod -- the man's a monster! [Herod finally drops the chair and leaves the ring, Silvestri following behind. Suddenly, the following text scrolls across the screen, echoed by a stern voice-over:] "THE FOLLOWING IS PAID FOR BY CHRISTIAN RIGHTWRESTLING IS AN ABOMINATION AND A SIN AGAINST THE FATHER, THE SON, AND THE HOLY GHOST. NOW CHRISTIAN RIGHT IS HERE TO SAY A FEW WORDS." [Christian is sawing a piece of wood and making a table.] CR: Hello all, may you serve the Lord. And may his eternal glory light up your miserable and dismal lives. What am I doing right now? I'm building a table. Built all my wooden furniture myself. You see when I'm not trying to dismantle your heathenistic world or preaching the Bible and the love of God, I am a carpenter. [Takes a break and sits on a chair he made himself.] CR: Just like our savior, the Christ. Pretty good if I do say so myself, right? But enough of my beautiful carpentry, let's talk about one issue that is eating me away, the RCW roster. There are two men on this roster who sicken me to my bones. Who am I talking about? I'm talking about the two men who have a match tonight. Ogawa and the "Fallen Angel" David Cross. Ogawa, you've made your entire career in death matches -- look at the word in that. Let me say it again, DEATH matches. You've made your fame out of seriously maiming other people in Japan. You have no idea what you're doing, the way you just treat life as if it's something to just throw around. Casually blowing people up, carving people up in the ring. Do you have any idea how much blood you have spilled? Silly old Japan, you all live in sin. Japanese death match wrestling makes wrestling here in Portland look like the church! But Ogawa, I've got a bigger fish to catch today, I'll save you for later -- but I still want to let you know, for the blood you spill, God will strike you down! [Christian turns to another camera.] CR: But the man I want, is this "Fallen Angel" David Cross. There have been many fallen angels, all of them reigning in the pits of hell. Dave? What are you doing with yourself? Why do you reject the cross? It's the only way to salvation, you've sinned greatly. God will never ever take you into his loving arms if you continue to blaspheme. You must be taught a lesson. "Do unto others as you would want done unto you" is a saying I live my life by. Since you choose at every chance you get to... sin... and fight other men... and seriously hurt people... maybe you're saying something. Maybe this is what you really want. I think you're a special case, David. I think that of everyone in the wrestling world today, the devil is alive inside of you the most. Well Dave, don't worry. Whatever me and the lord have to do to get Lucifer to stop corrupting you we will. If I have to personally beat the evil out of you, I will. David Cross, tonight I'm offering you a challenge. I want you, next RAMPAGE. I have to show you what life in hell will be like so that maybe you will change your ways and see the light of the lord but if I have to go to these extremes, I WILL. [Once again big red letters scroll across the screen, again accompanied by a stern voice-over:] "THIS MESSAGE WAS PAID FOR BY CHRISTIAN RIGHT. DAVID CROSS IS A HEATHENISTIC SINNER AND POSSIBLY A WIZARD. CHRISTIAN RIGHT WILL SHOW HIM THE FIRES OF HELL NEXT WEEK IF HE NEEDS TO. UNLESS CROSS CHANGES HIS WAYS HE IS GOING TO HELL. CHRISTIAN RIGHT WILL PURGE DAVID CROSS OF SIN. THANK YOU AND HAVE A NICE DAY." [Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Uh... that was interesting, Billy Shakespeare. BS: There's something not quite right about Christian Right, Don. DD: To put it mildly. Folks, we're about to see the man Christian Right has challenged to a match, David Cross, in action against a very, very dangerous competitor -- Akitoshi Ogawa. But before we do, I understand that we're going to see another edition of the Wallopin' Wallaby Welcome, with Madrock the Irrepressible. [Madrock the Irrepressible adjusts his bow tie over his T-shirt while RCW staff helps him straighten his wild hair.] M: S'time to settle dis! [The camera backstage captures the massive Australian in his preparations for the Wallopin' Wallaby Welcome show as Madrock acknowledges the camera and turns towards it to address the audience.] M: Oi! If you don't know 'oo I iz by now then I'll nevva get 'froo to yer 'fick skull! Good; cuz I'm gonna be dealin' wif an 'ard 'ead tonite and I needs all da practice I kin get! Cuz it's tonite dat the Wallopin' Wallaby Welcome show returns to Rampage! TONITE: I innerview da buggout uv' Donny Dannels an' figure out all dis malarkey once an' fer all! TONITE: everyone gets da answers over all da inneruptions, all da runnin' in ever'one's matches, but more impor'antly: 'OOZ GOT DA BETTA SWAG 'TWEEN THE TWO UV' US! Somebody give me a mic, I'm goin' in dere! AAAAAAAAARRRGH! [Madrock grabs a box of his bandanas to show his point as a stagehand quickly delivers a microphone to the man. People generally tend to do whatever a 300+ pound wild man tells them to and thus it doesn't take very long for Madrock to receive his microphone. Fade to commercials.] [Fade back from commercials to a wide shot of the arena. "Tubthumping" by Chumbawamba is heard from the arena stage as Madrock the Irrepressible takes his cue. The ring has been modified for this encounter: as a backdrop of Madrock's disheveled face (taken from On the Wire) drops from the rafters, two seats shaped like kangaroos are being set up while Madrock makes his introductions, box of bandanas at his side.] M: For those uv' you 'oove fergotten, da Wallopin' Wallaby Welcome show is da only REAL talk show da RCW's got. Let me all remind ya how it all started: Madrock's a bright bustin' lad dat's stompin' faces all ovva da RCW, when 'ee talks it's a mighty scream dat rings about da halls! Con-see-kwent-lee, I nevva know anyfing dats 'appenin' around 'ere cuz I'm too busy smashin' 'eads! [Madrock digs inside of his box of swag and pulls out one of his Grinning Wallaby bandana and stares at it admiringly before returning to his diatribe.] M: Danny Daniels spends all his time selling his crappy t-shirts! Does he feel so scared by my crappy bandanas dat 'ee has to come ovva' and complain about it on every show? I say, get da scrawny git up and let him speak up once and for all, then let all uv' da people decide! Waddaya say??? [Big pop erupts as Madrock pulls out a Grinning Wallaby bandana and waves it in the air in defiance to Danny Daniels. It appears that the challenge is accepted as "Afternoon Delight" plays in the arena and out comes Danny Daniels. Danny looks like he usually does- wraparound shades, a 'Your Hero' t-shirt on, a box of t-shirts under one arm and one shirt over his other shoulder.] D'YH'D: GREETINGS AND SALUTATIONS! [And, of course, a cordless mic.] D'YH'D: I don't speak Albanian, so I'm not sure what you said. But let me translate for all of my fans. *Ahem* [Danny coughs] D'YH'D: I come from a land down under. Where beer does flow and men chunder. Can't you hear, can't YOU hear the thunder? You'd better run, you'd better take cover. [Danny walks towards the ringside area.] D'YH'D: And why should you run, Maddox? Because you have jealousy running through your cold, cold heart. JEALOUSY, I SAY! You've started selling these triangles of cloth with pictures of... of some creature on them. Obviously inspired by... ME! 'Your Hero', Danny Daniels, a man so nice they named me twice. [Danny reaches ringside and slides his box of shirts under the ring, then hops up into the ring himself, walking over to Madrock.] D'YH'D: Obviously inspired, and obviously inferior! Made from some child labor in Indonesia or wherever you're from! And that's... fine. [Danny sighs] D'YH'D: Because when you are 'Your Hero', you should expected to be imitated. After all, I am your light, your inspiration, your reason for living... that you wished to copy me is expected. And for that, I forgive you... [Danny takes the single shirt off his shoulder and unfolds it. It's stained on the front with dried beer. He waves the shirt in Madrock's direction.] D'YH'D: But that does NOT allow you to damage my work! Each single shirt is PERSONALLY hand-crafted by me, as I stitch every piece of cloth with my hands! I personally shear the sheep that donate the wool! I personally hand-write every letter of this shirt! AND YOU RUINED IT! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF, YOU ALABAMAIAN TRASH... M: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA... [Faced with Danny's unending diatribe, Madrock utters a single syllable in order to interrupts his guest and put a word in edgewise.] M: ...AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA... [Emphatically interrupts, even. Look at him standing in the middle of the stage, mouth wide open projecting a single sound into his microphone. If nothing else, he manages to completely drown out the voice of Danny Daniels. In fact, Mr. Daniels is looking quite incredulously at the amount of time that Madrock can shout into a microphone.] M: ...AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWW COME OFF IT AW'READY!!! Dat's da dumbest story ya evva spoke, you wear dis 'fing lookin' like egg yolk, you charge prices dat make da people broke, an' bezides all dat your shirt is so bloody ugly I'd ravver croak! [Pop from the crowd as finally someone manages to shut up Danny Daniels. As the crowd begins to settle down, Madrock pantomimes rather pensively before bringing the microphone back to his lips.] M: A'right people, want da troof? Not some reporter's spin, but da real honess ta goodness troof? Da deal iz: evva' since Madrock came to Portlun' ees been shoutin', drinkin' and stompin' wot guys in da RCW. Meanwhile da Donny Dannels has been plannin' his t-shirts since day one! But nobody gives a doodle 'bout Donny Dannels do-rags, do dey? Meanwhile, when I look to get sum money on da side, all I gets for my trouble is an attack by the giant chicken of an egg yolk! [Madrock picks up one of Danny Daniels yellow t-shirts and gives us a mighty snort from his flaring nostrils as Daniels looks along none too pleased.] M: So maybe I'll juss start by takin' this one, which will come to good use if I evva need ta cut up some yellow ribbons for any upcommin' memorial shows... [But unbeknownst to Madrock who is in full verb-spouting mode, Danny reaches behind himself and grabs a Kangaroo chair, then...] * CRACK! * DD: Danny Daniels just snapped! He smashed that Kangaroo chair over Madrock's head! [Daniels starts screaming at Madrock -- not into the microphone, but loudly enough to be heard.] D'YH'D: MY Shirts! You don't mess with them! Not you! EVER! [Danny drops the chair and picks up both his box of shirts- AND Madrock's box of wallaby bandanas.] DD: Oh my! Daniels is leaving -- and I don't think I've ever seen him this angry, or indeed angry at all! Folks, we have to take another break -- we'll be right back. [As security rush down to the ring to separate the two men, fade to commercials.] [Fade back from commercials, to footage captioned "DURING COMMERCIAL." Madrock the Irrepressible and Danny Daniels are slugging it out backstage, the boxes of merchandise on the ground as they trade shots.] DD: Folks, as you can see, the confrontation between Danny Daniels and Madrock the Irrepressible spilled backstage during the break -- and these two look like they are trying to kill each other. [Daniels rakes the face of Madrock and begins choking him out. Madrock bellows and picks up Daniels, throwing him against a wall. Before Madrock can continue his rampage, several RCW officials show up to separate the men. In the confusion, Daniels grabs one of the boxes and takes off again. Madrock attempts to follow but is held back by multiple officials. Cut back to ringside, where the ring has been cleared of the Wallaby show paraphernalia.] DD: It is absolute chaos here tonight, folks. Let's get back up to the ring for our next match. ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / Akitoshi Ogawa vs. /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ "The Fallen Angel" David Cross [Sy Simmons stands in the ring, match official Pat Nickrick standing behind him in the corner.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first... ["Ride Or Die" by Doomriders kicks in over the PA to a big heel pop from the crowd. The lights in the arena dim and strobe lights pulse at the entranceway.] SS: ...accompanied to the ring by Zeke Brackett... hailing from Kumamoto, Japan, and weighing in at 266lbs... here is... AAAAAAAAAAAAAKITOOOOOOSHI OGAAAAAAAAAAAAAWA! [Ogawa's form emerges from the strobe lighting at the head of the aisle, pacing slowly towards the ring, rubbing his hands and glancing into the crowd. Zeke Brackett follows close behind, hurling insults at the crowd and shouting motivations at Akitoshi in his native tongue.] DD: Here he comes, Billy Shakespeare. What a dangerous competitor Akitoshi Ogawa is. BS: We've not even seen a fraction of what this man is capable of yet, Don. [Ogawa slides underneath the ropes and stands tall in the center of the ring, turning slowly to all four sides, shooting cold stares to the crowd. "Ride or Die" fades from the PA as the lights in the arena rise again and Sy Simmons speaks into the microphone:] SS: And introducing his opponent... [Cue the weird start to "Back on Earth" by Ozzy Osbourne!] SS: ...hailing from Corry, Pennsylvania, and weighing in at 289lbs, here is... "THE FALLEN ANGEL" DAAAAAAAAVID CRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOSS! [As the lyrics start, the fans turn to the head of the aisle, awaiting the arrival of David Cross.] # I have fallen from grace and my ashes are scattered # No longer of passion and flesh # My flame is alive thugh my wings have been shattered # They laid my body to rest DD: Where's Cross, Billy Shakespeare? BS: I've no idea, Don. [Finally, the curtains are thrown aside, and out walks David Cross... accompanied by Christian Right, who is walking beside him, clutching a bible!] DD: Now what's going on here? BS: It looks like Christian Right is attempting to show David Cross a lesson from the good book, Don. [Cross tries to make his way down to the ring, but Christian Right bars his path. The fans jeer Christian Right as he holds the Bible up in front of Cross -- who angrily pushes Right aside! Pop!] DD: David Cross just wants to come out here and wrestle, Billy Shakespeare, and doesn't need a nutcase like Christian Right trying to distract him. [Christian Right watches in shock for a moment as Cross continues down to the ring, not even looking back. Right looks down at the bible in his hand, murmurs something to himself, and then makes after Cross, brandishing the bible.] DD: Uh-oh -- incoming! [Right raises the bible, and *pastes* Cross around the back of the head with the book, and Cross goes down like he's been shot! Big heel pop!] DD: Come on! There's no need for that! BS: That must be an extremely heavy book, Don -- Cross isn't getting up! [Christian Right laughs, eyes wide, as security staff dash down the aisle to push him away from David Cross. Right holds up his bible, and opens it up, pulling out a large metal plate from within its pages! Big heel pop!] DD: Oh, you're kidding me! Christian Right has laid David Cross out with a loaded bible! BS: That explains why Cross isn't getting up, Don. I don't think he's going to be able to compete here tonight. DD: Christian Right is about to make a large donation to the RCW Board of Directors for that attack. Folks, we're going to take a short break while we try to get some order restored here. We'll be right back. [As security force Christian Right back up the aisle to the locker room, fade to commercial.] [Fade back to the inside of the Rose Garden. In the ring, Zeke Brackett motions to the outside for a microphone.] DD: Welcome back to RAMPAGE, folks. During the break, David Cross was examined by RCW's doctor here at the Garden, and he has been ruled out of active competition here tonight due to the unprovoked attack on him by Christian Right. Unfortunately, as you can see, Zeke Brackett and Akitoshi Ogawa have refused to leave the ring -- and Brackett's now asking for a microphone. [When Sy Simmons steps onto the apron to meet his demand, he snatches it angrily and shoves Simmons to the arena floor, sending the announcer scurrying back to his position. Heel pop!] DD: Give me a break! There's no need for that. [Brackett climbs to the second turnbuckle as Ogawa crouches eagerly, both facing the ring entrance. Brackett raises the microphone to his lips and smiles, raising an eyebrow to the jeering crowd.] ZB: Well, since no one else wants to join us... [He pauses, looking to Ogawa, who is practically begging for a fight.] ZB: ...how about it, Mark Coleman? We can't seem to get any real competition tonight, and while I wouldn't really call you a "competitor", you are more than welcome to come out and get some. You want to meet this man face to face? [He grits his teeth and snarls slowly.] ZB: Here's... your... chance. [He tosses the mic to the outside, where it lands with a thud as he joins Ogawa, pointing towards the back and encouraging the Japanese monster to destroy Coleman with extreme prejudice.] DD: Zeke Brackett is calling out Mark Coleman! BS: His charge wants a fight, Don, and young Coleman has spoke of nothing but fighting Ogawa face to face these past few weeks. Let's see if the lion indeed has the heart. [Brackett paces inside the ring, eyes locked on the entrance at the top of the aisleway, still talking up his man. Ogawa bounces slightly on his feet, loosening up a little more, his eyes also planted firmly at the curtain. The crowd buzzes, the disappointment at being denied one match washed away by the anticipation of another showdown... ...and that anticipation is met, as the big Tennessee native steps through the curtain to a rousing cheer!] DD: It's safe to say, Billy Shakespeare, he does have the heart! BS: Indeed, but he should be careful... Ogawa is a veteran competitor, and not someone to be taken lightly. [Coleman, a wide, easy grin on his face, makes his way down the aisle, hitting the occasional fan with a hand slap. As he moves closer, Ogawa lowers his shoulders and prepares to charge as soon as Coleman enters the squared circle. Wearing blue Nike athletic shorts and an orange shirt, Coleman stops at ringside, standing right by the fallen microphone. The fans have started a small "S-C-B! S-C-B! S-C-B!" chant that picks up in volume as he bends down to pick up the microphone. Ogawa and Brackett, now positioned near the ropes, continue to stare holes through Coleman as he begins to speak.] MC: Well, Zeke, I'm mighty happy you decided to let me meet your boy here, face-to-face. Been gettin' kind of boring there in the back, waiting for one of you two gentlemen to kindly grow a set of balls. [Brackett moves to the ropes and smiles at Coleman, sitting on the second rope and lifting the top one, mockingly inviting the Tenneessee native to enter. A nearby camera picks up his words: "Then c'mon, baby! We've got all night!"] MC: Hold your horses there, guys. I'm gonna give Ogawa his chance to prove himself, Zeke... just got one question before we get started. Your boy there... does he speak English? [Brackett looks to Ogawa, who is looking back at him with a perplexed look on his face, before turning back to Coleman. Brackett's face is now wrinkled in anger, and he slowly shakes his head. The crowd is silent, awaiting Coleman's response.] MC: Fine and dandy then. Translate this for me. Howdy. Name's Mark Coleman. I'm the guy who's gonna be kickin' your ass. [Huge pop! And then, with a flip of the mic to Sy Simmons, Coleman runs and slide under the ring ropes...] DD: Here we go! Coleman is met by a flurry of right hands by Ogawa! [Caught by surprise, Coleman still manages to fight to his feet as Ogawa rains shot after shot down on him! Ogawa is relentless, seeming to throw his entire body behind every single punch!] DD: Ogawa has gotten the better of the rookie, and... look at that, he throws Coleman into the corner! [Ogawa backs up... and Coleman out of the corner with a spear! He drives himself right into Ogawa and sends him to the mat! The crowd is electric as now Coleman lands a series of solid right hands to the side of Ogawa's head! Brackett, wisely out of the way, yells at his charge, who manages to shove Coleman off him!] DD: Both men are now back on their feet, but they go right back at one another! [Ogawa throws stiff rights and left, a tribute to his Deathmatch background, while Coleman stands his ground and counters with jabs and roundhouses! The crowd is on its feet, cheering on the rookie!] BS: For two men who are only now face-to-face for the first time, this... DD: OH MY! Ogawa with a palm thrust, and he caught Mark Coleman right in that injured throat! [Coleman immediately staggers backwards, clutching at his neck. His eyes are wide as he tries to breathe, catching some of the breath that was knocked out of his body...] DD: This could be bad, Billy Shakespeare. It was just a few weeks ago that Ogawa dropped Coleman throat-first onto a steel chair, nearly crushing the young man's larynx. [Ogawa capitalizes, and rushes forward, grabbing Coleman and proceeding to take the big man over with a belly-to-belly suplex! Coleman crashes into the canvas, still clutching at his throat. Ogawa, his eyes wide, teeth clenched, turns to face Brackett. The manager is beaming with pride for his charge, clapping for him even as the fans boo this display.] DD: Ogawa has just taken total control here with one palm strike, Billy Shakespeare! BS: Coleman's throat is his Achilles heel, Don. [Brackett sneers at the fallen Coleman, mocking him, before turning back to Ogawa, making a slow "cutthroat" motion. At this signal, Ogawa pounces, yanking Coleman upwards and allowing the big man to lock on a dragon sleeper. He wraps his legs around Coleman's waist, and begins to violently wrench at his neck!] DD: The Blackout! Ogawa has locked Mark Coleman in the Blackout, and Coleman is trying desperately to escape! [Coleman's face turns red as he gasps for breath, arms flailing wildly as he tries to breal free. Ogawa, teeth clenched, has the hold locked in tight, and quickly, Coleman's efforts begin to weaken.] DD: Coleman has nowhere to go... and here comes RCW security! [Indeed, three members of the new RCW Security detail charge down the aisle, sliding into the ring... where they're met by Brackett, who has his fists clenched, blocking them from his charge and his victim!] BS: This is just uneccessary! Brackett is stopping security from freeing Mark Coleman! [After a few moments, Brackett shrugs and steps aside, and the three men immediately descend upon Ogawa and begin to tug at him!] DD: Akitoshi Ogawa will NOT let go of Mark Coleman... who I believe may be unconscious, Billy Shakespeare! BS: Coleman isn't moving, but Ogawa refuses to release the Blackout! [Brackett rolls outside the ring, and in a few seconds, Ogawa releases the Blackout and follows his manager, avoiding security in the process. On the outside, he rejoins Brackett, who is smiling proudly at his charge. They seem to be the only two in the arena smiling, however, as the RCW faithful rain a chorus of boos down upon them!] DD: Mark Coleman has been simply devastated tonight, and all by that man right there! BS: If no one in the back took him seriously, Don, they surely will now. DD: And Coleman is not moving. A move like that, it could crush your windpipe or cause serious damage to your larynx, and Coleman took the full effect of that Blackout on his injured throat. We'll be right back, folks. [Security calls for a stretcher as Ogawa and Brackett walk up the aisleway, Ogawa with a look of satisfaction on his Asian features. Fade to commercials.] [Fade back on footage captioned "DURING THE BREAK." The footage shows Mark Coleman refusing a stretcher as he makes his way back up the aisle under his own power. Over these scenes we hear the voice of Don Ditka.] DD: Welcome back to RAMPAGE. You can see that, during the break, Mark Coleman was able to walk from the ring after that brutal attack by Akitoshi Ogawa -- but the attack by the former King of the Death Match has certainly taken its toll on the young rookie. [Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] BS: That could set Coleman's return to active competition back by several weeks, Don. DD: You may be right, Billy Shakespeare. I'm sure that Coleman will be beating a path to the door of RCW President Daniel Spreadbury to get Ogawa in the ring as soon as possible. Perhaps the two men will meet at RCW's first-ever Pay-Per-View, coming your way on Sunday July 16th! [Cut to a graphic showing the RCW Wild Summer Night logo and the Ticketmaster logo.] DD: Tickets go on-sale for RCW Wild Summer Night this coming Saturday, May 20th, at 9am, both online at www.ticketmaster.com and also direct and in person from the box office here at the Rose Garden. What a night it's going to be, Billy Shakespeare! BS: It certainly is, Don. We already know that we're going to see RCW Champion Johnny Pleasence defend against the number one contender, "Pistol" Paul Driscoll. DD: Absolutely, that's the first match to be officially signed -- but I understand that we will have details of at least one more match signed for Wild Summer Night in time for next Thursday night's edition of On The Wire. Don't miss it! [Cut back to the announce position.] DD: Folks, I understand young Jamie Bond is backstage standing by with "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy, one of the combatants in tonight's unique 60 Second Challenge. Jamie? [The screen cuts to the backstage area, where Jamie Bond is standing next to Cassidy. Liam is dressed in his normal everyday clothes which double for ring gear, consisting of a white sleeveless and somewhat stained undershirt, and red corduroy pants. Adorning his head is the weathered and worn black fedora covering his un-kept greasy sandy blond hair. Normally Liam is all smiles, but he appears to be quite nervous, his head tilted down and his eyes looking up at Jamie. That, or he's just concentrating way too much on standing upright.] JB: Thank you Don. Liam, tonight you are stepping into the ring with a bona fide legend of the sport, Lord Byron, for his first match in nearly eight years -- and it's going to be a special 60 second challenge. What are your thoughts going into tonight's match? LC: My... M-My thoughts? Ya knooooow, I can't help but feel somewhere in the back of my mind, that I should be a little intimidated by this Byron feller. Here's this lad with... This guy's got a reputation a mile wide for being a great wrassler, and he's going against me. What's this? My fifth wrasslin' match or something? JB: Fourth, actually. [Liam has to pause for a second, to let out a slight hiccup.] LC: I got stopped by some fan when I hitched a ride here, and he told me I was in over my head. It's all I've been hearing for the last two weeks. "You've never been in the ring with such a seasoned wrassler before." Well, you know what? This Lord Byron guy's never been in the ring with a fighter like me. He thinks he can beat me in 60 seconds? Prove it. JB: Well, that is the interesting dynamic to this match. According to the rules, Lord Byron has to defeat you in sixty seconds or less in order to be victorious. If you can beat out the clock, the match is yours. Have you discussed strategy with anyone on how to survive sixty seconds? LC: Well, sure. I just have to try not to let the lad get a hold of me. There's no question. I've seen the tapes. This guy looks good. As far as wrasslin' goes, I know I'm no match for him. But you see this guy disrespected me. For a man that ain't got a lot, that hurts, ya know? IÕm no different than any other feller in that locker room, and this guy sees fit to talk down to me after an honest mistake. That ain't right. And then he takes a shot at RCW and my boss? Well, it don't take much to get me going, I'll give ya that. But I can't let this Byron guy get away with that. If he beats me like he says he's going to, I'll be letting RCW down. And that's something I don't plan on doing. [Cassidy reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a metallic flask. He quickly opens up the top and takes a quick shot of the liquor inside.] JB: Wait a second, are you drunk? LC: Lad, you should know better than to ask that. They sometimes call it liquid courage, but I call it my best friend. Tonight, Lord Byron's in for more than he bargained for. I ain't scared... [He pauses and turns his head to the side to let out a small burp.] LC: I ain't scared of this Byron feller. [He takes another pause to take another sip.] JB: Uh, maybe youÕve had enough, Liam. You need to be ready for your match. [We finally get to see that warm, cheeky smile of Liam's.] LC: What, this? This ain't nothing, Jamie. JB: Even so, maybe you should just save it for after the match? [Liam turns his head and lets out another belch, this one much louder than before. He is staggering a little now. Jamie reaches for the flask, but Liam quickly snatches it away.] LC: Jamie, you're a good lad, but if you touch my drink again, there's gonna be some real trouble, you got that? I like ya, but don't ever take my booze away from me, ya hear? [Cassidy glares at his friend. Jamie slowly backs off.] JB: All right, Liam. I'm just trying to help. Don, let's take it back to ringside, now. Please. [Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Liam Cassidy... is drunk. And in just a few minutes he has to go sixty seconds against one of the greatest technical wrestlers of all time. This... may not be pretty. BS: Speaking of not pretty, can we get a camera over there? DD: Over where, Billy Shakespeare? BS: The guys in the truck know where I mean. Come on, show us. [The shot cuts to a small section of fans at ringside, on the side nearest the aisle. There are at least half a dozen oddly-dressed fellows sitting near the front rows, all of them sporting scraggy beards, dirty faces, filthy hands, and a rather rag-tag wardrobe: torn clothes, wifebeaters, tweed jackets that must be at least thirty years old. And, to a man, they are clutching brown paper bags, presumably with bottles inside them. The regular fans sitting in the same section are giving these men a wide berth.] DD: Well, Billy Shakespeare. It appears Liam Cassidy has invited some friends to see his big match tonight. BS: What I'd like to know is how these people managed to buy tickets, Don. DD: Liam Cassidy is a generous man, Billy Shakespeare. I'll bet he paid for these people to come out of his own wages -- just to create his very own Hobo Section! BS: His own Hobo Section. The mind, forsooth, it boggles. DD: Doesn't it just. Folks, momentarily we're going to see a tremendous tag team match -- and one of the men in this match is the perpetrator of that brutal attack on Vinny Carmazzi two weeks ago that has put Carmazzi on the shelf for the time being -- one Nolan Dorado. Carmazzi may be supposed to be taking it easy while he recovers from his injuries, but that didn't stop him from showing up here at the Garden today... and our camera was there. [Cut to footage captioned "EARLIER TODAY", showing the grounds just outside the Rose Garden. The unsteady picture is explained by the cameraperson running to get the shot. The bouncing slows down and comes to a stop as the intended target of the camera comes into focus. A man in dirty jeans, sneakers, and a black-hooded sweatshirt paces back and forth across two rows of parking lot. His unkempt dirty blonde hair covers his neck and part of the hood, as well as the deep bruise that runs down the back of his neck. When he turns around, he notices the camera for the first time and does not look happy at all to see it there. He looks right at the cameraperson and begins yelling.] VC: Get the hell out of here! [The camera shakes, but doesn't budge.] VC: Turn that thing off! Stop filming! [Vinny Carmazzi's bloodshot brown eyes stare at the red light, waiting for it to go off. His frustration builds when it doesn't. A look of fury crosses his face.] VC: Fine then. I'll take care of it.... [Vinny glares at the camera and starts to walk towards it. The cameraperson takes a few steps back, but continues shooting.] VC: If you're here, then _everyone_ knows I'm here. Security. The suits. The goddamn victim. You know, the one who can't seem to ever face me like a man. [Vinny continues pursuing the camera, which is now in a quick retreat.] VC: Nobody really expected me to go back to Jersey, did they? Officials told me to go home and rest. That wasn't going to happen. Not going to listen to them OR the doctor. Just was never any good at listening. Don't give a crap if I'm medically cleared or not. Dorado is going to get what's coming to him the second he shows up. [A healthy Vinny Carmazzi would have easily caught up to and shattered the camera by now.] VC: Can't get a match with him until I'm cleared. Too damn expensive to attack him inside. Not that I'd wait anyway. [Carmazzi realizes he can't catch the cameraperson, who despite all the equipment being lugged around is able to easily elude someone fighting off the effects of a concussion and bruised vertebrae. Vinny turns around and walks toward his original spot in the parking lot. Now the cameraperson is trying to catch him.] VC: Damnit. [The place where Vinny had been waiting for Nolan Dorado to arrive is now filled with RCW and Rose Garden security. Almost the entire security force, as per RCW's new policy.] Officer: Mr. Carmazzi, please come with us. VC: I'm not going anywhere. If I can't get a piece of him innside, I'll just break him into little tiny pieces out here. Easier for the ambulance to find him. Or coroner. Whatever. Officer: Mr. Carmazzi, you made it very clear that you want to cause harm to Nolan Dorado outside of a sanctioned match. [Vinny stares right into the eyes of the leader of the security team. He responds softly and with malicious intent.] VC: You have no idea.... Officer: Well, the new rules dictate that this attack you're planning will not happen ANYWHERE on the grounds tonight. VC: The people who make the rules aren't those who get put out of action for a month. He's getting his arm broken. You're all welcome to watch if you want. Officer: I reiterate, that's not going to happen. [A look of defiance crosses Vinny's face.] VC: Nobody is going to stop me. [As Vinny tries to walk around the security force, all twenty strong move and get in his way. He realizes that unlike other security teams in wrestling, this one means business.] VC: Is that right? [A healthy Carmazzi would have no chance fighting through all twenty security guards, much less in his current condition. Everyone there is well aware of this.] Officer: Yes, that's right. [He motions to a row of men behind him. They flank Carmazzi, two on each side, and begin to escort him off the premises.] Officer: You can return when you're medically cleared. Until then, you are not welcome here at the Rose Quarter. Enjoy your time off. [Vinny's head swings around violently after that last dig. He burns a hole through the head security guard before the pain from his neck causes him to turn back. The camera focuses on the remainder of the security team as they watch Carmazzi leave the area very unwillingly. Cut back to ringside.] DD: Vinny Carmazzi -- the very definition of a man who doesn't know when to quit. BS: That rage, that grit, and that determination is best channeled towards taking care of business in the ring when he's healthy, Don. DD: Quite right, Billy. It's just about time for our tag match -- but before we get up to the ring, we have some comments from one of the four men set to compete. [Cut abruptly to the back where, waiting to let loose some choice words, is the winner of last RAMPAGE's Battle Royale... Dave Bryant. Standing beside him, in her full... well, glory, is Glory. Dave's already in his ring attire, sans robe, and also wearing his traditional smirk. Bryant chuckles for a moment, then shakes his head.] DB: You know, boss... I'm startin' to think that, just maybe, you've got it out for me. [Bryant's smirk fades to a half-grin.] DB: First week out, you stick me in the ring with six other guys, all eager to shed the blood and break the bones of anyone and everyone that gets in their way. This week? This week, you put me in another terrible situation... [Bryant's grin fades away completely.] DB: ...a tag team match, my partner a man I know absolutely nothing about, against one guy I _know_ wants a piece of me after getting outright embarassed at the battle royale... and another guy I haven't got a real clue about, but I've heard some people talking about him, and he doesn't exactly sound like a slouch. [Bryant reaches up, scratching at his chin briefly.] DB: Let's not mention the fact that Derek Rage, over seven feet of pissed off black man, is a tag team _specialist_. This guy is big, mean, and worst of all, has more experience in tag team wrestling than _anybody_ else involved in this matchup, including yours truly. Yes, folks, I admit it. Derek Rage... [Bryant smirks.] DB: ...Derek Rage made a _career_ out of being half a wrestler. [Glory looks at Dave, raising one eybrow slightly.] DB: Yes, Glory, I said half a wrestler. You see, while there are a great number of differences between tag team wrestling and singles wrestling, the greatest difference of all is that no matter how badly you're getting beaten, no matter how much trouble you might be in -- through blind luck or one simple mistake on the part of the guy beating your ass, you just have to limp or crawl a few feet away from him, reach out your hand, and your saving grace will be there, desperately extending his hand to touch yours, so you can roll your sorry ass out of the ring and bleed quietly, while your partner, having all his energy and none of your hurts, goes ballistic on the guy that just spent five or ten minutes outsmarting, outwrestling, and more than likely, _outclassing_ you. [Bryant looks away from Glory, back at the camera, smirking.] DB: Derek Rage... as I said, you made a career out of that. Me? I made a career out of standing on my own two feet, beating whomever gets put in front of me by whatever means I have to do so. No tag team partner to bail me out... when I got my ass kicked, all I had to turn to was me, but you, Derek? Shadoe was always there, wasn't he? [Bryant turns to leave, then pauses.] DB: I'm not sure how to feel about that, you know? Should I admire the fact that he was always there to save your clumsy, useless ass... or maybe just feel sorry for the only seven footer in the business that always needed his brother to save his ass and win him his matches? [Bryant then departs, chuckling all the while, Glory in tow. Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Strong words from Dave Bryant -- let's get up to the ring! ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / TAG TEAM TURMOIL: / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc & Derek Rage vs. /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado & Dave Bryant [Sy Simmons stands in the ring, referee Pat Nickrick in the corner behind him.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the following tag team match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first... [The hip hop rhythm of Jurassic 5's "What's Golden" begins thumping over the loudspeakers as a shower of golden sparks cascades down over the entrance. Through the entrance curtain and emerging from the sparks, a slender yet muscular man in a shining golden robe strides into view with his arms to either side in double bicep bodybuilder pose.] SS: ...accompanied to the ring by Jodee Burwick, hailing from Tacoma, Washington, and weighing in at 236lbs... "GOOOOOOOOOOOLDEN BOOY" NOOOOOLAN DOOOOOOORRAAAADO! [Behind Dorado, the curvaceous Jodee Burwick emerges wearing a shiny golden halter top and hot pants outfit. Shimmering golden wraparound sunglasses hide Dorado's eyes as he flashes a megawatt smile at the nearest camera.] DD: Nolan Dorado is smiling now, Billy Shakespeare, but we know he's been anything but happy about how his career in RCW has begun. BS: Dorado is 0-4 and has only succeeded in making enemies. Two weeks ago he hospitalised Vinny Carmazzi, and got a big fine for his trouble, and tonight he's going to be on the other side of the ring from Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc, who isn't exactly his greatest fan, either. [Dorado jogs down to the ring and slides underneath the bottom rope, drinking in the jeers of the crowd. Jodee follows him into the ring and removes her charge's golden cape, running her long, manicured fingernails over his body. As Burwick leaves the ring with the cape, Dorado climbs to the corner buckles and strikes his double biceps pose on the second turnbuckle. "What's Golden" fades as Sy Simmons brings his microphone back to his lips.] SS: And his partner... [The opening notes to Nine Inch Nails' cover of "Physical" begin to fill the arena... the lights dim, and a spotlight falls on the entrance.] SS: ...accompanied to the ring by Glory, hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada, and weighing in at 220lbs... here is DAAAAAAAAAVE BRRRRYYYYAAAAAANT! [From the curtain emerges a lovely little blonde, clad in a royal blue gown slit quite far up the thigh, and cut way low in the neck. She takes a few steps into the aisle before turning, smiling coquettishly, and pointing at the curtain.] # I wanna take you baby... # I wanna take you out... # I wanna wine and dine you... # Oh I wanna twist and twist and shout...# [With that, a man emerges from the curtain... clad in a royal blue robe, complete with a hood over his head. He stands in front of the girl, a smirk just visible beneath the shadow of the hood. She smirks back, before reaching up and pushing the hood back with a flourish, revealing unto the world... Dave Bryant.] DD: Here he comes, Billy Shakespeare. The winner of the Debutants' Brawl Battle Royal, and apparently now the enforcer for RCW Champion Johnny Pleasence -- Dave Bryant. BS: Bryant showed us his ring smarts last week in that battle royal. It'll be very interesting to see how he approaches this match tonight. # I want you hot in my arms... # So soft on my bed... # You get the key to my heart... # Oh when you wear that sweet dress...# [Bryant looks around briefly, chuckles, then motions Glory on ahead as the crowd jeers the pair of them. She turns, sauntering down the aisle, and slowly stepping up the ringsteps to the apron, where she parts the ropes for Dave, her gown slipping down to reveal most of a well-formed leg.] # But you're too physical, physical to me... # [Bryant makes his way down the aisle, climbing up to the ring apron, sliding one hand up Glory's thigh briefly before stepping between the ropes, nodding to Dorado as he enters the ring and Glory removes his robe.] # You're just too physical, physical, no to me...# [Bryant, clad in his usual royal blue shorts, motions Glory to leave the ring, and she does so, looking distrustfully at Burwick as they take up position on opposite sides of the same ringpost. Dorado and Bryant share a few words in the middle of the ring as "Physical" fades over the PA.] SS: And introducing their opponents... [A guitar riff and a howl by Eddie Vedder kick in over the loudspeakers as "Do The Evolution" by Pearl Jam begins to play, to a big pop from the crowd.] SS: ...hailing from St. Catharine's, Ontario, and weighing in at 275lbs... here is OOOOOOORRRIN "THE LYYYYYYYYYNX" LEBLAAAAAANC! [The crowd cheers as Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc steps out into the aisle. LeBlanc gives a shake of the head, whipping his shaggy light brown hair a bit. As he makes his way down the aisle, his lips curl into a knowing smirk, as if he's aware of some big joke the rest of the world hasn't been deemed privy to know about yet.] DD: Orin LeBlanc looks very pleased with himself -- and look at Jodee Burwick, stealing glances at the big Canadian like a lovesick teenager. [Indeed, Burwick is looking coyly around the ringpost at LeBlanc as he nears the ring, Dorado not aware of his valet's wandering eye as his own gaze is locked on the approaching LeBlanc. LeBlanc marches right into the ring, and straight over to Dorado and Bryant, Nickrick interposing himself inbetween the three men to prevent any early kick-off.] SS: And his partner... [The houselights go down and the hard beat of Public Enemy's "Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos" blares over the PA system. Big pop!] SS: ...accompanied to the ring by Pizzazz, hailing from Halifax, Nova Scotia, and weighing in at 325lbs... here is... DEEEERRRRREK RAAAAAAAAAGE! [First comes Pizzazz, the 6' model/wrestler. She strolls down the aisle then pauses, smiling at the crowd and flirting with her green eyes. Then Derek Rage emerges, cloaked in a boxer's robe, the hood over his head. Together the pair walk to the ring.] DD: Derek Rage is no stranger to tag team matches, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Absolutely not, Don. This man has held just about every tag team championship there is. [Rage steps over the top rope as Pizzazz alights between them. He takes to the centre of the ring, standing beside LeBlanc as the pair of them tower over Dorado and Bryant.] DD: This all-Canadian partnership has a tremendous power and size advantage over Dorado and LeBlanc. [As LeBlanc and Rage agree amicably that LeBlanc should start off the match and Rage makes his way back to the corner, Dorado and Bryant appear to be having a more heated exchange. In the end, Bryant gives a smirk, lightly slaps Dorado around the face in a mock good-humoured way, and ducks out of the ring. Dorado glowers after the departing Bryant, and then looks towards LeBlanc as the two men circle each other in the ring. Nickrick signals for the bell.] * DING! DING! DING! * DD: And we are underway! Dorado and LeBlanc are starting to know each other real well, Billy Shakespeare. BS: They know how to push each other's buttons, that's for sure. [As the crowd cheer, LeBlanc charges in, and Dorado ducks out of the way, using his superior speed to sidestep the Canadian. LeBlanc charges in again, and this time Dorado ducks behind him, leaps up with a standing dropkick that sends LeBlanc shooting forwards into one of the unoccupied corners, LeBlanc eating turnbuckle! Big heel pop! Dorado backs up and then charges in, executing a cartwheel into a handspring elbow to the back of LeBlanc's head! Big pop!] DD: Innovative offense from Dorado here in the early going. [Dorado poses for the fans, drawing a big heel pop, as LeBlanc turns back into the ring, rubbing the back of his head. While Dorado poses, LeBlanc hits him with a clubbing blow from behind, then spins him around and sends him for the ride, felling him with a clothesline on the rebound. Dorado, stunned, pops back up and charges back in, and this time is felled by a uranage from the burly Canadian! Big pop! Dorado rolls out of harm's way and to his corner, where he goes to make the tag -- but finds that Bryant isn't paying attention, instead chatting to Glory in the corner. Dorado yells at Bryant, who absent-mindedly turns around with a smirk on his face as Dorado is dragged away by LeBlanc.] DD: A slight communication problem here between Dorado and Dave Bryant, who seems in no hurry to get into the ring. BS: In the battle royal two weeks ago he hid out for more or less the whole match. Bryant seems determined to pick up his pay check for absolutely the bare minimum of work he can do. [Orin lifts Dorado up over his shoulder so that his upper back is across his own shoulder. Dorado's legs are tucked around LeBlanc's hips, and LeBlanc has a chinlock applied on the "Golden Boy's" head. LeBlanc moves towards the center of the ring.] DD: Gory Special on Dorado, beautifully applied! Dorado is in trouble here, and in a hurry! BS: The Gory Special is a very painful hold, Don, putting tremendous torsion on Dorado's back. The "Golden Boy" doesn't want to be in this hold for long. [Nickrick checks on Dorado to see if he wants to submit. Dorado emphatically yells that he does not, and LeBlanc grabs hold of one of Dorado's legs, pulling on it to apply even more pressure. On the apron, Bryant shrugs, and steps into the ring, leaping up and hitting LeBlanc with a standing dropkick square in the chest, forcing LeBlanc to release his hold on Dorado, who rolls through and grabs the Lynx in a small package!] DD: Dorado rolls up LeBlanc! Great reversal! And he gets a two-count! [While Nickrick counts the pinfall attempt, Bryant darts over to the opposite side of the ring and takes a cheap shot at Rage, staggering the big man. Bryant heads back to his own corner as Rage tries to enter the ring, only to be held back by Nickrick. Meanwhile, Dorado hits a low blow on LeBlanc, bending the big Canadian double! Heel pop!] DD: Ever the opportunist, Dorado has just gotten himself an unfair advantage. BS: Bryant and Dorado may not be on the same page, but so far they're managing to work together pretty effectively, perhaps more by luck than judgement! [Dorado sunset flips over LeBlanc, pulling him down for a pinfall attempt. Nickrick again drops to make the count... 1... 2... ...and LeBlanc kicks out! Both men are back to their feet and LeBlanc immediately goes to make the tag to Rage. Big pop!] DD: And here comes the Intelligent Thug! BS: All seven-foot-plus of him! [Dorado charges at Rage, who easily tosses him with a release belly-to-belly suplex! Big pop! Up gets Dorado, and Rage sends him to the ropes. Rage bounces off the opposite side of the ring and comes at Dorado with a thunderous running lariat, sending the Tacoma native through a complete somersault in the ring! Big pop!] DD: Oh my! Rage practically decapitated Nolan Dorado right there! BS: And Dorado is taking a powder to regroup -- I can't say I blame him. [Indeed, Dorado rolls out of the ring under the bottom rope and into the waiting arms of Jodee Burwick, while Rage moves towards the corner where Bryant stands smirking, confident that Nickrick will threaten Rage with disqualification if he attacks him. LeBlanc jumps down from the apron and goes after Dorado, forcing the "Golden Boy" to roll right back into the ring.] DD: Dorado doesn't want to get back in there with Derek Rage. [Dorado is greeted by a flurry of kicks from Rage as he rolls under the bottom rope. Rage drags Dorado to his feet and sends him to the ropes, on the return lifting him up for a backdrop, and holding on to *power* him down to the mat with a backdrop driver! Big pop! Rage gets back to his feet, dragging Dorado with him, and moves to his corner to tag LeBlanc back in! Big pop!] BS: Great tag team tactics from Derek Rage here, cutting the ring in half and keeping Dorado tied up. [As LeBlanc steps into the ring, Rage Irish whips Dorado into the ropes on the other side of the ring before ducking out himself. LeBlanc then charges at LeBlanc from the perpendicular side of the ring, flooring the "Golden Boy" with a stiff-arm lariat! Big pop!] DD: Dorado is being knocked about like a rag doll in there, Billy Shakespeare! [Orin lifts Dorado back up to his feet and applies a front facelock on the Tacoma native, draping his arm over his shoulder. LeBlanc lifts Dorado up into a vertical position, and cameras flash all over the arena as the Lynx holds him there!] DD: What power and strength from the Lynx! BS: He's setting him up for the Falcon Arrow! [The crowd gasps as LeBlanc, after several more seconds, finally falls to a sitting position, driving the back and shoulders of Dorado into the mat with a sit-out suplex slam. Big pop! LeBlanc goes for the cover... 1... 2... ...and Dorado just about kicks out! Disappointed pop!] DD: Dorado kicks out by the narrowest of margins, Billy Shakespeare! [LeBlanc drags Dorado back to his feet, and whips him into the ropes again. Dorado, out of nowhere, launches himself with a spinning leg lariat that catches LeBlanc by surprising, felling him in the middle of the ring. Quick as a hiccup, Dorado follows up with a springboard moonsault off the second rope! Big mixed pop!] BS: Dorado can turn things around in a heartbeat, Don! He may be a very unpleasant person, but he's a joy to watch in there. [Dorado goes for the cover, and Nickrick drops to make the count on LeBlanc... 1... 2... ...and LeBlanc kicks out! Big pop!] DD: Dorado can't quite put the big man away just yet! [Meanwhile, on the outside, Glory and Jodee Burwick appear to have got into some kind of argument over who gets to stand where. Dave Bryant looks down from the corner of the apron in amusement. In the ring, Dorado gets back to his feet and tries to whip LeBlanc into the corner where Bryant is waiting -- but LeBlanc has the wherwithal to reverse the whip, and sends Dorado into the corner where Rage is waiting. Big pop as Dorado backs up before he hits the corner -- only to receive a clubbing blow to the back of the head from LeBlanc charging in behind him! Big pop!] DD: Now Dorado's in trouble, right in enemy territory! [Nickrick claps his hands together to signal that LeBlanc has tagged Rage into the ring, and then puts the count on Orin to encourage him to leave the ring. LeBlanc and Rage whip Dorado into the ropes, and then hit him with a double backdrop on the return! Cameras flash all over the arena as Dorado sails through the air!] DD: What incredible elevation on that backdrop! Dorado really needs to make the tag as soon as he can! [LeBlanc steps out of the ring as Dorado picks himself up. Rage charges in with an attempted lariat, and Dorado nimbly ducks out of the way. Rage turns, and Dorado attempts a kick -- but the Intelligent Thug catches his foot! Big pop as Rage wags a finger at Dorado... only for the "Golden Boy" to execute a stunning enzuigiri to the side of the big man's head, staggering him! Rage stumbles into the corner, and collides with the Lynx, knocking him off the apron!] DD: Uh-oh, we could have trouble in paradise here now! [As Rage tries to apologise to LeBlanc, Dorado makes his way back across the ring and claps Bryant on the shoulder. Nickrick signals that the tag has been made, and Bryant reluctantly enters the ring. Rage turns and charges towards the Bryant/Dorado corner, apparently still going after Dorado -- but the "Golden Boy" simply jumps down from the apron as Rage lunges at him. Bryant hits Rage from behind and brings the big man down to one knee as Dorado collects Burwick and starts to make his way around the ring towards the aisle.] DD: You're kidding me! Dorado is walking out on this match! BS: He's been in there since the opening bell, but he's given as good as he's got. I just don't think he wants any further part of Orin LeBlanc. [As Dorado and Burwick back away up the aisle, Burwick's lips curled into a big smile and Dorado with a smirk on his face, suddenly the crowd gives a big pop -- and the pleased expressions disappear from the faces of Dorado and his valet!] DD: Here comes the Lynx! Orin LeBlanc is coming after Dorado! [Dorado and Burwick turn tail and make good their exit as the burly Canadian comes up the aisle after them, the spotlight following all three until they have disappeared into the backstage area.] DD: Forget the "Golden Boy", Billy Shakespeare -- Nolan Dorado has walked out on so many matches he should be called the "Walking Boy"! BS: Very good, Don. DD: Thanks, Billy. Well, I guess this tag team match just became a singles match! [Rage and Bryant continue to go at it in the ring, Rage sending Bryant for the ride and then hitting him with an exploder suplex on the return! Big pop! Bryant pops back up and runs back at Rage, who applies a clawhold! Big pop!] DD: Oh, we know what comes next -- the Hammer of God! [Rage lifts Bryant up, but the smaller man kicks with his feet, forcing Rage to drop him to the mat, and Bryant kicks him in the midsection, doubling the big man over -- allowing Bryant to jump up and plant Rage with a DDT! Heel pop!] BS: Great reversal from Bryant -- and now he's got to take advantage of putting the big man down. [Bryant bounces off the ropes and drops the leg on Rage's throat, then pops back up, rolling Rage over, and tries to apply a Boston crab on the Nova Scotian -- but Rage is able to power out and get back to his feet! Big pop!] DD: Rage now, with Bryant on his back -- and he drops over backwards, slamming Bryant with a modified Samoan drop! [Bryant immediately rolls out of the ring, cursing, and Rage follows him out. Official Pat Nickrick immediately puts the count on both men as Rage rounds on Bryant -- who jams a thumb in Rage's eye to slow him down! Heel pop! Bryant goes to whip Rage into the ringsteps, but the Nova Scotian reverses, sending Bryant to the steps instead! Big pop!] * CLANG! * DD: And Bryant hits the ringsteps with force! What's this -- a fan has just handed something to Derek Rage! BS: I do believe that's a frozen flounder, Don, a favourite weapon of the Prophets of Rage back in their Portland days. [Rage gives a smirk as he brandishes the frozen flounder. Nickrick ducks out of the ring and attempts to get in Rage's way, but the towering Nova Scotian simply pushes him aside. Bryant staggers back to his feet -- and is nailed in the head with the frozen fish! Big pop!] DD: Flounder to the face! Flounder to the face! BS: That's not something you hear every day. [Rage takes the flounder... pulls open the waistband of Bryant's tights... and rams the frozen fish down inside, causing Bryant's eyes to open wide in shock! Huge pop!] DD: Flounder to the bare ass! Flounder to the bare ass! BS: I... I don't think I've *ever* heard that called in a wrestling match! [Bryant pulls the fish from his tights and tosses it aside... and then turns right into a big clothesline from the big Canadian! Rage picks Bryant up and rolls him back into the ring, then rolls back in himself.] DD: Rage now, sending Bryant for the ride -- he ducks down. Sunset flip! [Rage bends down, and Bryant leaps over him, grabbing him with a sunset flip -- but Rage stands as Bryant rolls over him, in position for a powerbomb! Rage goes to powerbomb the smaller man -- but Bryant locks his legs, countering with a head scissors... and then Rage counters Bryant's counter, sitting down as Bryant arches his back, and trapping the Las Vegas native in an elevated Boston crab!] DD: Liontamer! Liontamer! Rage has Bryant in the Liontamer! BS: We saw that exact exchange at the end of the battle royal two weeks ago -- on that occasion, Bryant was able to catapult Rage out of the ring, but tonight Rage had the move scouted, and Bryant's in big trouble! [As Bryant struggles against the Boston crab, Glory hops up onto the apron to try and distract Rage -- but Pizzazz is right there, yanking Glory down by her foot, and the two women start brawling on the outside, Pizzazz's superior height and strength immediately giving her the upper hand! Big pop!] DD: Glory and Pizzazz going at it on the outside, Bryant trapped on the inside -- and the fans are going crazy! [Bryant tries to drag himself to the ropes by his fingertips, inching closer to the ropes, inching closer... ...and then Rage takes a couple of steps, pulling Bryant back towards the middle of the ring! The crowd cheers ever louder!] BS: Bryant is a tough customer, but he's got nowhere to go here, Don! [Bryant again inches towards the ropes... ...and again Rage pulls him back towards the center of the ring!] DD: Bryant must be in agony, the tremendous leverage that his huge opponent is able to apply on his lower back! BS: He's not going to last much longer, Don. [Bryant's face drops to the canvas as the pain wracks his body. He lifts his hand up off the canvas... it wavers... it wavers... ...and then hits the mat three times! Nickrick signals for the bell!] * DING! DING! DING! * DD: It's over! [Rage releases the Liontamer as Public Enemy kicks in over the PA once more and Nickrick attempts to raise Rage's hand -- but cannot because the big man is just too tall!] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, your winners... the team of ORIN "THE LYNX" LEBLANC and... DEEEEERRRRRRRRREEEEEK RAAAAAAAAAGE! [As Byron rolls to a seated position and pulls himself into the corner of the ring, Rage wags a finger at the Las Vegas native, before stepping out of the ring over the top rope, beckoning to Pizzazz to follow him.] DD: Rage and Bryant now each hold a victory over the other man -- and you have to know that won't sit well with Dave Bryant, Billy Shakespeare! BS: You can say that again, Don. With competitors of the quality of Derek Rage and Dave Bryant, the difference between victory and defeat can be a single hold or counter-hold. DD: Changing tack for a moment: earlier tonight we saw Madrock the Irrepressible and "Your Hero" Danny Daniels brawling backstage, with their respective merchandise right in the middle of things. I understand we have a camera backstage with Danny Daniels right now -- let's take a look. [Cut to Danny "Your Hero" Daniels in a darkened corridor. He ignores the camera, clutching a cardboard box, and gasping for air. He's not talking to the camera as much as he's muttering to himself.] D'YH'D: He's not here... he can't find me. Stupid Albertan. Tries to become me. He can't be "Your Hero." There's only one hero, and that's me, Danny Daniels. A man so nice they named me twice. He got his triangles back. Fine. Whoop-de-doo. No one wants his triangles. They want my shirts. He ruined one of them, but I have the rest. [Danny opens up the box, and reaches into the box.] D'YH'D: He doesn't have the shirts. I do. They are mine, and... [He stops, his face freezing into an expression of surprise. He pulls up, from a box... a Wallaby bandana.] D'YH'D: But these aren't mine. [He throws open the box and starts pawing through the bandanas.] D'YH'D: My shirts! They aren't here! I don't have him. That means... [The look of surprise is replaced by one of horror.] D'YH'D: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! [Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside. The two men look at each other for a moment, then Ditka looks back to the camera.] DD: Okay. Folks, we have to take a short commercial break. Don't forget, coming up before the end of tonight's show, we will see Owen "Truth" Curtis facing off against "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder *live* right here in the Garden -- and when we come back, we'll see the return of another wrestling legend to the squared circle, as Lord Byron takes on "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy in a special 60 Second Challenge. Don't move a muscle! [Fade to commercials.] [Fade back from commercials to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Welcome back to RAMPAGE! Later on tonight, we're going to see the number one contender, "Pistol" Paul Driscoll, take on Ryan Faith one-on-one, in a match to be refereed by the RCW Champion, Johnny Pleasence. I understand that we can go backstage to hear from the special referee now. [The camera cuts to a shot of Johnny Pleasence, RCW Champion, tossing a referee's shirt into a bucket in a random hallway. Matilda Agutter cackles and walks out the shot, as Pleasence squirts lighter fluid into the bucket.] JP: Be damnned if I wear this thing. [The Big Bad pulls out a wooden match, strikes it, and sets the shirt on fire.] JP: ...good times. [And in casually strides the resident angry youth of RCW, Ryan Faith. Ryan is already decked out in his wrestling gear as he makes his way to JP.] RF: Well, if it isn't the first couple of RCW. You know, if we keep meeting up like this, people are going to start thinking we're buddies. [Faith smirks.] RF: So ref, what ya got planned for tonight? Anything in particular? JP: ...the usual. RF: I know that you plan on calling this match down the line and giving each man his fair shake. But don't forget exactly who it is I'm fighting tonight. [Pleasence just looks at Faith, completely taken for a loop.] RF: Yeah, the guy who has the first shot at that... [Taps the belt draped over JP's shoulder.] RF: He was coming down the ramp to attack you. You shouldn't forget that. [Pleasence blinks.] JP: Let me guess... this time you're bringing the slam jam, right? [The Big Bad scoffs.] JP: Mate, don't worry about what the hell I'm gonna do. Fact of the matter is, you're gonna have to bust your ass tonight to get past Driscoll. Now, I know that what you did -- attacking Driscoll and all that -- was a good thing... but don't think he doesn't remember it. He's gonna come at you with everything he has in order to get at this... [Pleasence mockingly taps the RCW belt draped over his shoulder.] JP: ...and I'm going to stop him from taking what's mine, okay, squirt? The only thing you need to concentrate on is getting through _tonight_. [Ryan just laughs.] RF: I don't remember asking you about Driscoll. Or what he's going to do. Nor am I worried about what you're going to do. I wouldn't be worried about me getting through tonight. You're the one in the tough position. I mean, there's no telling who'll have their back on the mat at the end of the match, mate. JP: Well, considering the little fact that _I'm_ calling the match, I figure it'll either be you or Driscoll. Fact of the matter is, don't worry about playing this... [Pleasence just points at Faith.] JP: ...up. You're still a kid. Ain't got nothin' goin' for you besides the afterbirth behind your ears. Yeah, you got somethin' on the side... but she ain't givin' you the skills you need. [Pleasence pulls out a pack of smokes.] JP: You're gonna have to learn from the best... maybe Dinah's got the right idea in mind with you runnin' around with me, so that's okay. But, don't you go thinkin' you got the world in the palm of your hand. This is only the beginning. RF: How's the ol' ball and chain? JP: How's your piece of meat? Did she come onto Daniels last week after the show? [Pleasence grins.] JP: Rats'll burn you, shortpants. Pun intended. RF: She is what she is. But we all can't be the "Big Nasty," eh? JP: Nope -- why the hell would we want a worthless belt? [Pleasence chuckles.] JP: But, seriously... you're gonna have to be on your game for this one. I'm not gonna make this easy for you... namely for the fact that Driscoll won't make it easy for you. It's gonna be work, kid... hard work. This is the big time, mate, so you're gonna have to prove yourself. No one cares about the drunken Aussie. No one cares about your problems. All they care about is what goes on in that ring. Make it matter, kid. [Faith nods empathically and starts to walk away.] RF: I always do. JP: Yeah, we'll bloody see about that. [Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Johnny Pleasence showing that alliances mean nothing to him. BS: Don, *nothing* means anything to Pleasence, except for that RCW Championship belt. Not Faith, not these fans, not Paul Driscoll... maybe not even Matilda. DD: But I just can't believe Pleasence is going to call that match right down the middle, Billy Shakespeare. Pleasence will want to take every opportunity to make sure Driscoll is slowed down on his way to his title match at RCW Wild Summer Night. [We cut to backstage... and a hear a loud heel pop from the ringside crowd as we see the British blueblood, Lord Byron, storming down one of the Rose Garden's corridors. And he is livid with rage. The crowd pops again in anticipation as he pulls up short... confronted by the RCW President -- and his former employer -- Daniel Spreadbury. Byron scowls at the besuited, bespectacled President, who holds up his palms in a placatory gesture.] DS: Byron... I just wanted to apologise. This isn't how I expected things to turn out two weeks ago. I didn't expect us to run into Cassidy, and I certainly didn't expect you two to go at each other's throats like you did. [Byron glares at the President, tapping his signature brass-topped cane in his palm.] DS: You know how I... B: Enough. [Byron cuts the President off, mid apology, and walks closer, glaring down at the official. Heel pop from the crowd.] B: A goodwill gesture? For me? I'm touched, Daniel. Do you really think I don't understand what this is all about? [The President frowns, confused.] DS: I don't know what... [Byron face twists in a furious look at the President, cutting him off again.] B: Then let me clarify this for you, Daniel. You set me up, just like you did Brody Thunder! [The crowd explodes in a heel pop -- a look of shock registers with the President as he hears the reaction from the crowd, and he looks worried. Byron sneers at his obvious discomfort.] B: But you've overstepped the mark this time. Did you really think that you could try to back me into a corner to and try and to push your "talent" at my expense? It may have worked with that old fool Thunder, but you should have left *me* well enough alone. DS: Byron, please! This isn't how... B: Oh, don't worry, Daniel -- *this* time I won't damage your precious rookie too much... Just his pride -- if he has any. And maybe your reputation. [Byron smirks] Such as it is. [A roar of anger from the packed arena -- Byron brushes past the president, knocking him back a pace. The President watches him go with a sad expression. Byron turns, further down the corridor, looking back.] B: One minute, Daniel... one minute. [With that final parting shot, and to a raucous heel pop from the crowd, we cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at the announce desk.] DD: I don't know what you think, Billy, but Lord Byron seems to get more and more arrogant each time I see him. I know all about Lord Byron's history -- I used to watch him wrestle right here in Portland, but I can't help but think he's not going to get it all his own way here tonight against "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy. BS: Don't you know it, Don. But Byron has proved in the past what an exceptional athlete he is -- he knows how to put people away in the ring -- and Cassidy, for all his promise, is green as grass, and drunk as a skunk, to boot. Byron's a dangerous athlete -- all the more so when he's angry, and he appears to think that this was a plan by Spreadbury all along, to use him and his reputation. Cassidy's got to hope that Byron's time away from the sport has left him rusty. Otherwise, we could be about to witness a one-minute massacre. DD: Let's go to Simmons for the introductions. ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / 60 SECOND CHALLENGE: / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / Lord Byron vs. "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [The camera switches from the announce desk to the ring and focuses on the ring announcer, Sy Simmons.] SS: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is a special sixty-second challenge match! [Huge pop from the crowd! Simmons pauses, waiting for the noise to die down.] SS: Introducing first, hailing from Lancashire, England, weighing in at 255lbs.. the former IIWF Intercontinental champion and self-proclaimed greatest technical wrestler in the world... making his first appearance in an American wrestling ring in seven years... please welcome... LORD BYRON!! [The crowd is on their feet, erupting into an instant heel pop as the regal opening of the Intermezzo from Sibelius's "Karelia Suite" plays out over the PA system. The lights dim, and...] B: CUT THE MUSIC! [...the athletic figure of Lord Byron strides out into the aisle. The crowd rains boos and insults down on him, as the Intermezzo slowly fades out. The aristocrat is in full ring attire, his blond hair pulled back from his handsome features, tied back tight. Wearing black boots, kneepads and black wrestling tights. A thorned Lancastrian red rose design, twisted around the traditional British Three Lions motif, is emblazoned across the left thigh. In his left hand he carries the signature brass-topped cane, in his right a cordless microphone, which he raises to his face as he pauses on the stage, casting a look of pure contempt around the jeering, packed capacity crowd.] B: A fine welcome, Portland, to one of your legends. [Another negative reaction from the crowd, as the fans make their feelings felt on Byron's comments. Byron sneers back at them, and continues down the aisle.] B: Two weeks ago, I came here to discharge a debt of gratitude to the esteemed president of Rip City Wrestling, Mr Daniel Spreadbury. My first appearance in an American Wrestling arena in over seven years -- I did it as a favour to a long time business associate. Out of the goodness... [Byron places his hand on his chest, a mocking smile on his lips] B: ...of my heart. That should have been enough -- for him, and for you. [Byron pauses again, as the crowd murmurs in the background.] B: But Spreadbury is a businessman, after all. He knows that to get recognition for RCW, for it to start to make him the money and the fame he craves, he first needs to win over his audience. How better to do that, than by bringing back the legends? The familiar faces from the Golden Era of Portland wrestling? From the IIWF. [The sarcasm in Byron's voice and his look of contempt say all that you need to know. The crowd roars in anger as Byron starts towards the ring again.] B: First, he dragged back "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare. [Byron smirks at the cheers from the crowd at the mention of the hometown hero.] B: Let me tell you something, Portland.. If your hero Shakespeare had any guts at all, any desire or ability left in him, he would be back in the ring, not cowering behind an announcing desk, spouting his puerile references to the Bard. [Another heel pop. The camera briefly cuts to the announce table, showing Billy Shakespeare looking up at the ring and shaking his head in disappointment. Byron continues, unabashed.] B: But then, in the ring, Shakespeare always was a good... entertainer. [Byron spits the word out. The meaning is clear. At the announcer's booth, Shakespeare starts to rise to a cheer from the ringside fans, but is restrained by Ditka.] DD: Easy, Billy. B: No, no, no... RCW needed REAL wrestlers. REAL legends -- Shakespeare was good enough to provide play-by-play, but the stars of Mr. Spreadbury's new outfit needed a real challenge. A clear standard to live up to. So what was Daniel's next move? He brought back Brody Thunder. [Another cheer raises the roof of the Rose Garden at the name of the IIWF legend. Byron, however simply shakes his head in a slow, empathic "NO."] B: And Thunder fell straight into the trap. A two-time IIWF champion, a true legend of the sport -- stabbed in the back by your esteemed President Spreadbury, and laid out in the middle of the ring by one of his "new generation." What a way to build a reputation -- what a way to fill the Rose Garden. And then... [Byron pauses, allowing the confused rumble echoing through the arena to die down.] B: And then -- I received an invitation to return. Offered the chance to say a few words of thanks to the Portland fans. You see, I came to RCW on request. To help bring a bit of credibility here... an element of class, a touch of style. And how was I repaid? [Byron sneers again] I was blackmailed into a match with a talentless vagrant bum. [Byron's sneer vanishes, and his expression turns cold as he glares out at the crowd.] B: But unlike Thunder, I'm not about to let Spreadbury feed me to his new generation. I'm not so far gone that I'm about to lie down and take a beating from *any* of the ensemble cast in this tin pot league. [The crowd roars in disapproval, jumping to their feet and jeering.] B: Oh, you heard me correctly, Portland. I said: Tin. Pot. League. [Byron smirks at the continued reaction, and climbs the ring steps, ducking between the ropes.] B: You see, my "worthy" opponent tonight, Mr Liam Cassidy, has all but admitted himself that he knows absolutely nothing about this industry -- and yet this is the kind of "entertainer" that your beloved President is hiring. Well, Mr Cassidy, I hope you did your homework, I hope you paid close attention those videos Daniel brought you, because it's time for your "education" to begin. But not at my expense, or the expense of my reputation. So... Cassidy... Spreadbury... people of Portland... tonight, I'm going to give you something I refused the EMWC. Something I denied the UWF and UKCW. Something that you -- all of you -- simply do not deserve. [Byron raises one finger, his lip curling in his infamous sneer..] B: One minute of my time. [The crowd goes ballistic. Byron pulls the band from his ponytail, brushes his hair back, and tosses the microphone to the canvas.] DD: Boy oh boy, Billy Shakespeare. Byron just said a mouthful right there. BS: What an arrogant, self-righteous, son of a... DD: Quite. Controversial comments from this legendary competitor as we await the arrival of Liam Cassidy. And if these fans didn't want to see Cassidy lay Byron out before... they certainly do now! [Sy Simmons raises the microphone to his lips once more.] SS: And introducing his opponent... ["Miss You" by Mirwals starts up over the PA to a big pop from the fans!] SS: ...hailing from Hackensack, New Jersey, and weighing in at 237lbs, he is... "THE JEEEEEEEEERSEY DRRRRIIIIIIIFTER" LIIIIIAAAAAM CAAAAAASSIDY! [The fans are on their feet as a spotlight shines on the head of the aisle... but Cassidy doesn't appear.] DD: Where the heck is Liam Cassidy? BS: Probably finding himself some more "liquid courage," Don. DD: This is the biggest match of Cassidy's career, with such a lot on the line... and he's drunk! BS: That's probably *why* he's drunk, Don. Wouldn't you be tempted to drink if you were a rookie wrestler -- and a hobo, to boot -- going up against one of the most legendary technical wrestlers ever to step foot in the ring? DD: Good point. [Finally, the curtains bulge... and bulge again... and eventually out stumbles Liam Cassidy, swatting the imprisonment of the curtains away as he walks-cum-falls out into the aisle. He waves to the fans, whose cheers die away a little.] DD: Oh... oh dear. BS: Cassidy certainly looks more inebriated than usual. DD: This is very disappointing, Billy Shakespeare. If Cassidy's chances of going one minute with Byron were slim before, they're non-existant now. [Cassidy staggers down the aisle, occasionally stopping to take a swig from his flask, leaning back so far that he genuinely looks like he may fall over. He stops at the foot of the aisle and begins to remove his clothes, placing his battered fedora on the floor and placing the contents of his pockets in it, removing his jacket and folding it up, placing it beside his hat. His movements are even more deliberate and exaggerated than usual, as if he's having terrible trouble doing it.] DD: I don't like to see this, Billy. BS: I don't see how Cassidy can even compete in this match, Don. [Cassidy goes to put his hip flask in his hat... looks at it... and then slips it back into his pocket, before making his way towards the ring, waving at the eight or so hobos in the section nearest the aisle as he does so.] DD: Well, there's one group of fans who appears to be impressed with the state Liam Cassidy is in, Billy Shakespeare. BS: That's... that's not a good thing, Don. [Cassidy finally rolls into the ring as "Miss You" fades out. Cassidy takes another swig from his flask as he looks across the ring at Lord Byron, who literally looks down his nose at "The Jersey Drifter."] DD: Well, folks, this is it. [Match official Jim Bright signals for the bell!] * DING! DING! DING! * [Big pop as the fans anticipate the collision of the two men in the center of the ring. A clock appears in the corner of the ring, counting down from 60 seconds.] ...00:59... [Cassidy takes yet another swig from his flask.] DD: Come on, Liam -- the match is on! Now's not the time for drinking! BS: Not quite true, Don. Don't forget that the stipulation is that Cassidy just has to see out the time limit without losing to Byron. Byron has to beat Cassidy within sixty seconds, but Cassidy doesn't have to beat Byron. DD: Good point, Billy Shakespeare. [Cassidy stumbles into the middle of the ring, where Byron is waiting. He sways slightly... then lets out a belch in the face of the blueblood! Byron's eyebrows shoot up as he smells the strong stench of liquor on Cassidy's breath, but he is stunned for only a moment -- as he replies with a hard slap to the face of the Jersey Drifter! Heel pop!] ...00:50... DD: Oh my! What a slap from Byron -- and I have to say I'm not surprised. [Cassidy takes a swing at Byron, who ducks, hooking Cassidy's arm as he misses and dragging him into a backslide! Cassidy's shoulders are down on the mat! Bright drops to make the count... 1... 2... ...and Cassidy kicks out! Big pop!] ...00:43... DD: Byron nearly puts Cassidy away after less than twenty seconds, Billy Shakespeare! BS: But give Cassidy credit -- despite his inebriated state, that was a strong kick-out! [Byron roll backs as Cassidy kicks out, and immediately drags him into a small package! Bright is quickly in position... 1... 2... ...and again Cassidy kicks out!] ...00:39... DD: Cassidy now, staggering back to his feet -- and Byron catches him with a scissor sweep! [Byron sweeps Cassidy's legs out, then straddles him amateur-style and cuffs him around the back of the head before standing and giving a mocking bow to Cassidy with a sneer on his face as the first hobo of wrestling pulls himself back to his feet. Heel pop!] ...00:32... BS: Byron is going for quick takedowns and pin attempts, Don, which is a smart move. There's no time for submission holds in this kind of a match. [Cassidy staggers back towards Byron, fists raised, but Byron slips behind him, grabbing one leg and snapping him to the mat with a single leg takedown into a jack-knife pin. Bright makes the count... 1... 2... ...and again Cassidy kicks out! Big pop!] ...00:27... DD: Byron is wrestling circles around Liam Cassidy in there, Billy Shakespeare. I don't see how the Drifter is going to survive another thirty seconds of this. [Cassidy gets back to his feet again, and now Byron grabs him in a front headlock, rolling him down to the mat and applying a lateral press, hooking the leg. Bright again makes the count... 1... 2... ...but Cassidy gets a shoulder up! Big pop!] ...00:22... DD: Byron now, dragging Cassidy back to his feet -- and there's a hammerlock takedown! BS: Oklahoma roll! Beautifully done, and Cassidy is pinned again! [Bright yet again makes the count... 1... 2... ...and yet again Cassidy kicks out! Big pop!] DD: Cassidy is getting dizzier and dizzier in there, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Even sober, Byron would be a tough prospect for a man with Cassidy's experience, but... this really isn't good, Don. ...00:17... [Again Byron rolls easily to his feet and Cassidy staggers back to his. As Byron closes in, Cassidy scores a lucky strike with an elbow, putting Byron back on his heels, and Cassidy goes for an ugly clothesline attempt, which Byron easily ducks, grabbing Cassidy's pants and pulling him down with a schoolboy, keeping a good handful of pants as Bright makes the count... 1... 2... ...and Byron releases Cassidy just before the three count! Huge relieved pop from the crowd!] DD: What arrogance from Lord Byron! Does this great, legendary general of the squared circle need a handful of tights to pin a man wrestling only his fourth professional match?! BS: Byron's toying with Cassidy, Don. But he's got to be careful -- he's in danger of running down the clock completely and losing this match! ...00:12... [Cassidy rolls to his corner of the ring and reaches for his flask. The sneer disappears from Byron's face as he stalks Cassidy from behind...] ...00:10... [...Byron goes for a tie-up, but Cassidy spots Byron coming and slips behind the aristocrat...] ...00:09... [...Byron spins around, dumb-founded that Cassidy slipped away from him, and... HUGE POP!] DD: OH MY! Cassidy just *nailed* Byron with a vicious right hook! And Byron is down! Byron is down! ...00:07... BS: Pin him, Liam! Pin him! [Byron goes down like he's shot under the force of Cassidy's vicious punch to the jaw, and Cassidy drops onto him, Bright dropping to make the count... 1... 2... ...3! There is a moment of stunned silence, and then...] * DING! DING! DING! * [...as the bell punctuates the silence, the crowd erupts into a huge pop for Cassidy!] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this 60 Second Challenge, by pinfall... "THE JEEEEERRRSEY DRRRRIIIIFTER" LIIIIIAAAAAM CAAAASSSIDY! DD: He did it! He did it! Liam Cassidy has pinned Lord Byron! BS: And with three seconds to spare, Don! Unbelievable! [Cassidy doesn't wait for official Jim Bright to raise his hand. He rolls from the ring and immediately makes his way over to the Hobo Section, vaulting the crowd barrier and diving into the midst of his badly-dressed companions!] DD: Well... isn't that sweet, Billy Shakespeare. BS: A real Kodak moment, Don. [Jamie Bond scurries down the aisle to where Cassidy is celebrating with his fans, chugging back a beer with the lot of them.] JB: Liam! Liam Cassidy, you just knocked out *the* Lord Byron! How does it feel? [Liam turns his head back to Jamie.] LC: It feels great, lad! I did exactly what I said I'd do! JB: I don't quite get it, though. Earlier, you appeared to be... well... too inebriated to compete, and now you're... [Liam hops back over the retaining barrier so that he stands next to Jamie. The man known as "The Jersey Drifter" is all smiles now.] LC: About before, lad, I apologize for being so cross with you. I didn't mean anything by it, Jamie, youÕre still my mate, and we'll go have a few victory rounds at the Arm Bar. How's that sound lad? I just had to pretend, ya know? JB: Wait, you were pretending to be drunk? Why? LC: Well, it sure lured that feller in the ring there into a false sense of security, now didn't it? Look, I've been fall-down drunk too often than I'd like to remember, and I know how people treat you. Especially people like that Byron feller. They look down on people like me, and tonight he made a serious mistake that cost him. JB: And that was? [Liam turns to his fans and shouts out with them as they continue to break open their drinks.] LC: Simple. He underestimated me. He thought he'd beat me in sixty seconds? Tell him to check the clock and see what happened, when he wakes up of course. [He turns back to his fans and climbs back up onto the retaining barrier.] LC: Now, who wants to celebrate?! [The group of fans around him cheer wildly, as does a lot of the crowd all over the arena.] LC: Let's go to the pub! Drinks on me, lads! [Liam hops over the barrier, disappearing into the crowd, being followed by a group of about two excited fans, all hooting and hollering for Liam as he soaks up their admiration.] JB: Well, Don, Billy... Looks like I'm headed to the Arm Bar. Back to you guys! [Cut back to Ditka and Shakespeare at ringside.] DD: Good grief. Liam Cassidy feigned his drunkenness in order to lure Lord Byron into his trap. BS: It's a smart move, Don. A surprisingly smart move! DD: Well, folks, Byron is being helped from the ring right now -- we'll try and get a word with him later in the show tonight. Something tells me he's not going to be happy about this. BS: To put it mildly, Don. I've got to say, seeing Byron brought low by Liam Cassidy is pretty darned funny. DS: Oh -- hang on a moment, he's coming over here. [The shot shows Byron making his way towards the announce table, staring at the chuckling Shakespeare. The camera microphone picks up his words as he approaches.] B: Find... something funny, Billy? [Byron lashes out with his cane, knocking Shakespeare's water glass flying -- drenching the Portland native. Big heel pop! Shakespeare immediately jumps to his feet as Ditka moves to hold him back.] B: Laugh that one off, whelp. [Byron spits on the announcers' desk, and staggers off. As Shakespeare wipes himself down, cut to a backstage area, where a flustered-looking Jodee Burwick can be seen kneeling beside a prone figure who is collapsed into a pile of tables.] JB: HELP! We need some help here!! [Several stage crew rush into the scene but they are quickly brushed aside by a medical technician and a pair of security guards who help the injured man to his feet. As the camera focuses on his face, it is revealed to be ÒThe LynxÓ, Orin LeBlanc, whose eyes are unfocused as a thin trickle of blood oozes down the side of his face from a large welt on the side of his forehead. LeBlanc has difficulty standing as he is checked by the medic while one of the security guards turns towards Jodee Burwick.] G#1: What happened here? Who attacked him?! [Burwick bites her lip nervously before responding.] JB: I... uh... I donÕt know! I didnÕt see it happen! [The medic has some trouble holding up LeBlancÕs heavy weight by himself and as ÒThe LynxÓ stumbles sideways, Jodee ducks underneath his arm and places it across her shoulders so that she can steady him and help keep the big Canadian upright.] JB: Easy there, Orin. YouÕre going to be all right. [The first guard turns to the second.] G#1: WeÕre going to have to report this. See if you can find any witnesses so we can catch up to whoeverÕs responsible. [As the second guard nods and leaves, the camera focuses on JodeeÕs face as she looks up at the dazed LeBlanc with concern.] JB: Damn it! This wasnÕt supposed to happen like this! [As LeBlanc is helped to walk slowly down the hallway with the medic and Jodee Burwick holding him upright, the scene switches back to the commentators at ringside.] DD: Come on! It's obvious who attacked Orin LeBlanc -- we saw LeBlanc and Dorado brawl away from ringside earlier on tonight. It was Dorado who attacked the Lynx backstage! BS: But nobody saw him do it, Don. I'm pretty sure the office is going to take some action against Dorado and LeBlanc -- these two are just uncontrollable. DD: You could be right, Billy Shakespeare. How are you doing? BS: I'll tell you what, Don. You want to compare getting a minor soaking to the most humiliating defeat of a storied career? I think I got the better end of that deal. DD: Folks, it's time for our next match -- number one contender Paul Driscoll taking on Ryan Faith. I understand that Paul Driscoll is backstage now with young Jamie Bond. Jamie? [Cut to the backstage area, where once again Jamie Bond stands next to number one contender, "Pistol" Paul Driscoll. The Texan is dressed to wrestle, in dark green tights, boots and kneepads and the denim vest over top. His hair has grown longer since RCW's inception, and he has it clipped back.] JB: Mr. Driscoll, in just a few moments you'll be wrestling Ryan Faith, with Johnny Pleasence as the guest referee! After getting a concussion on the last RAMPAGE, is there anyway you'll be okay to fight tonight? PD: The Doc gave me the okay, sluggo, an' I'm feelin' just as good as I possibly can. It's true, my noggin was flooded fer a few days, but as everyone seen a few weeks ago, I know ho