___ ______ __ _, _, _ ___ _,_ __, _ _ _ __, __, / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / \ |\ | | |_| |_ | | | |_) |_ / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / \ / | \| | | | | |/\| | | \ | /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~ Thursday 8 June 2006 ["Bodies" by Drowning Pool plays as the On The Wire logo flies into the screen, merging with the physical RCW logo mounted on the studio set. The camera pans down past the logo and past the large plasma screen mounted behind the familiar glass-topped desk. As ever, Don Ditka is standing in front of the desk, wearing an open-necked shirt with the RCW logo embroidered on the left pocket. Ditka looks up from the sheaf of papers he is holding as the music fades.] DD: Good evening, everybody, and thanks for joining us here on KPDX-49 for another edition of RCW On The Wire -- the world of professional wrestling in 60 minutes! I am, as always, the voice of RCW, Don Ditka, and in this hour we will be looking back at all the events of last week's RAMPAGE, looking ahead to next week's live event, and talking a bit about RCW's very first pay-per-view event, Wild Summer Night, which is now just over five weeks away! So let's get to it! ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / << << << << << << REWIND << << << << << << /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Ditka is now sat behind the desk, and the RAMPAGE logo appears on the plasma screen behind him.] DD: Folks, what a night it was in the Rose Garden last Thursday night. RAMPAGE certainly lived up to its name -- let's take a look how. [Cut to footage captioned "LAST THURSDAY"... Johnny Pleasence and Matilda make their way to the ring, with Dave Bryant in tow... Pleasence hands his RCW Championship belt to match official Juan Morales, and then attacks Orin LeBlanc before the bell... Pleasence throws LeBlanc with a belly-to-back suplex, then hits an armdrag, then puts the boots to LeBlanc... LeBlanc puts Pleasence down with a big clothesline, then a second, then goes for a DDT -- but the champ slips out and rolls out of the ring... LeBlanc follows his opponent out of the ring and gets blindsided by a crouching Dave Bryant, who spears him into the ringsteps!... Matilda attacks LeBlanc while Pleasence and Bryant distract the official... and then Jodee Burwick totters her way down the aisle! Burwick adds insult to injury by slapping the Canadian around the face, which only angers LeBlanc more, the Canadian slamming Pleasence's head into the ringsteps before rolling him back into the ring...] DD: RCW Champion Johnny Pleasence was in non-title action against the impressive Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc. You want to talk about a stacked deck: LeBlanc came out solo, and found himself not only dealing with the increasingly deranged and megalomaniacal champion, but also with his entourage of Matilda, Dave Bryant -- who has somehow managed to get a manager's license and is now able to accompany Pleasence to the ring -- *and* Jodee Burwick, Nolan Dorado's valet, who made an appearance during the match to let LeBlanc know exactly how she felt about him spurning her advances earlier in the night. [...The match continues, LeBlanc in control, but Pleasence turns things around with a cutter, going for the pin and using the ropes for leverage! Morales sees the infraction and kicks Pleasence's feet away... LeBlanc hits Pleasence with a spinebuster... but while the match official is distracted by Jodee Burwick, Bryant tosses a chair into the ring, and Pleasence uses it on LeBlanc... Nolan Dorado drags Burwick away from ringside, but the damage is done... Pleasence snaps and rams LeBlanc's head into the mat repeatedly, then hits a swinging neckbreaker, then a snap DDT, then a backdrop driver, then a brainbuster! But rather than go for the pinfall, Pleasence grabs the steel chair and swings it at LeBlanc, disqualifying him.] DD: LeBlanc held his own in the face of overwhelming odds all the way through the match, going toe-to-toe with the dangerous Pleasence. But in the end, Pleasence just *snapped* and went to town on LeBlanc with a steel chair, deliberately getting himself disqualified. And Pleasence let the fans in the Rose Garden know exactly why... [Cut to original footage. Pleasence grabs a microphone and shouts over the fans' shouts of "JOHN-NY SUCKS! JOHN-NY SUCKS!" Pleasence is damn near off his rocker.] JP: The million dollar question is: why in the bloody hell did *your* RCW Champion get DQed on purpose?! Because *this* is not a match befitting a champion... specifically, it's a *non-title* match! Spreadbury, if you don't want me to defend this title like a champion should, by all means... *take it from me*! [HUGE HEEL CROWD POP!] JP: I won't bloody stand for this! You know damn well that *any man* sittin' in that soddin' locker room would cut so many corners to be in my shoes right now, but when I do it?! [Pleasence lowers the microphone for a moment, looking with venom out to the fans.] JP: I get shafted! I get... hell, this *belt* gets shunted off to Limbo Land while Portland drags out all its has-beens and never-weres in order for that big "ratings push"... well, let me tell you something, Rip City! *No bloody more*! You want a damn champion to be proud of?! Mark my words, from this night on?! You're going to get the most *vile* son of a bitch that ever held a bloody strap! [HEEL CROWD POP!] JP: This will be a reign soaked in blood, and that, children... That is something that I will *not* be denied! [Pleasence spikes the microphone onto the canvas, and moves to the corner, raising his fists to the still jeering crowd. Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Folks, I said it last Thursday night, and I'll say it again now. Pleasence is a megalomaniac. He feels he's not getting the respect and recognition he deserves as RCW Champion. Well, Johnny Pleasence, respect is something that's *earned*. And you could start by showing a little bit of respect to the man who pays your paycheque. But don't expect Johnny Pleasence to show a change of heart any time soon -- we caught up with the champion to get his comments earlier today. [Cut to blackness.] V: Gonna make this brief 'cuz... well, the bloody lot of you _won't_ get this. You won't even understand it... but the fact of the matter is... I'm the Big Bad, and I don't bloody care. [The camera fades in on Johnny Pleasence, sitting in a random locker room, smoking a cigarette. Clad in all black, the World Champion looks fairly unconcerned with... well, _everything_.] JP: Had one of those epiphanies last week when everyone was wishin' for me to lose this strap o' mine as the show was comin' to a close... You blokes just don't know what the hell you're up against, do you? [Pleasence chuckles.] JP: All I bloody want to do is defend this soddin' title, and since I haven't been doing that... I've been gettin' a bit ticked, you see. As far as I'm concered, that poof Daniels is _nowhere_ in my league... yet he got a title shot all on the pretense of him being too _stupid_ to actually acknowledge anything other than his toilet-bowl nugget excuse for a career. [The Big Bad ashes idly.] JP: But, I dealt with that just fine, didn't I? Took out the lit'le git, and waited proudly for my next defense... ...but that didn't happen, did it? [Pleasence smirks.] JP: ...still hasn't happened, has it? Hell, everyone's got "Pistol" Paul Driscoll propped up to take this belt from me... and he's right in line to do it, isn't he, Rip City? Think about it, children... compared to Danny Daniels, he's the first "legitimate" contender to my title, think about the success story in the making... ...unless, I have other plans. [Pleasence smirks.] JP: I _meant_ what I said, you know: this title reign of mine will be _soaked_ in blood when it's all said and done. LeBlanc? He wasn't worth my time... and let's face it, no one but _him_ cared about that match anyway. But Driscoll, on the other hand, he's trying hard, isn't he? Tryin' to get the last word in as much as possible- puttin' himself in a good light at any turn as far as the fans are concerned... he's doing everything it takes in order to be Rip City's poster boy... and me? I get to tear it _all_ down- every preconception and every notion you have of Driscoll being the man to take my belt from me? _I get to ruin your dreams_. But, one step at a time, right children? I mean, I do have another title defense on the next show, right? [Pleasence chuckles.] JP: Oh, wait... looks like you're just gonna have to tough it out in order to see what's _really_ going on with the Big Bad, Rip City. Because with what I have planned during this upcoming six man tag match? It's only the _beginning_. I'd bet your kids on it if I were you. [And with that, we cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Johnny Pleasence, you don't have to like the RCW Board of Directors' decision not to have you defending the RCW Championship before your match at Wild Summer Night against Paul Driscoll -- but you do have to accept it. I'm sure, however, that we've not heard the last of Pleasence's rantings. And we'll hear from the number one contender later on tonight. When we come back, we'll talk about the other matches that went down last week in the Garden. [Fade to commercial.] [Fade back from commercials to footage of Lord Byron and Liam Cassidy's match... Cassidy leads the crowd in chants of "JUST! ONE! SEC-OND!" at Byron's expense... Byron gets the better of the early exchanges, but quickly backpedals whenever Cassidy threatens him with his right fist... Byron quickly targets Cassidy's right arm, with strikes, holds and locks... Byron drops an elbow on Cassidy's arm, then suplexes him back to the mat... Cassidy yanks on Byron's hair to free himself... Cassidy rolls from the ring and grabs some Dutch courage from oe of his fans... Cassidy sprays Byron in the face with a mouthful of liquor... Cassidy hits him with a left jab, then a shot to the ribs, then another, and another, and knocks Byron down with a clothesline! Cassidy rolls Byron back into the ring and hits Byron with a backdrop! Cassidy takes a swing at Byron with his weakened right arm, but Byron sees it coming, grabbing Cassidy with a half-nelson and suplexing him into the corner buckles... only to be caught by a Coup De Gr‰ce inverted DDT neckbreaker from Byron for the pinfall...] DD: Welcome back, folks. Three weeks ago, "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy embarrassed Lord Byron when he defeated him in a special 60 Second Challenge match. The legendary technician demanded a rematch, and it went down last week on RAMPAGE. Byron, as you would expect, wrestled circles around Cassidy -- but he does have a healthy respect for that right fist of the Drifter, and he spent the entire match trying to neutralise that threat. In the end, Cassidy's fists were sufficiently slowed down for Byron to get the pinfall -- but he wasn't finished there. [Cut to footage from after the match as Byron stomps away at Cassidy, rolling him to the edge of the ring, and then gives him one further good hard kick to send him off the apron and to the arena floor. Byron rolls out after the Drifter and drags him over to the corner where the ringsteps are set up. He dislodges the top half of the steps, and puts Cassidy's arm between the steps and the ringpost. Nickrick rolls out of the ring to intervene, and gets a shove from Byron for his trouble. Byron takes a few steps back into the aisle, and then runs towards the ringsteps, launching himself with a dropkick towards the front of the steps...] * CLAAAAANNNG! * "AAAAAAAUGH!" [Cassidy tumbles back to the arena floor, clutching at his right arm and hand. Byron is merciless, immediately grabbing Cassidy and tossing him back into the ring. Byron quickly wraps Cassidy up in a modified cross armbar, hooking Cassidy's right wrist under his arm, and locking his own arms behind Cassidy's elbow. Byron grapevines his legs around Cassidy, pinning his free arm, and stretching back, trying to hyper-extend Cassidy's elbow. We hear Ditka and Shakespeare on the original commentary:] DD: ARISTOCLUTCH ARMBAR! Byron has the Aristoclutch locked in! BS: This is very bad news for Cassidy. That's an excruciating hold. DD: Billy Shakespeare, I believe Cassidy may have passed out in there. [Finally, four security guards come running down the aisle, rolling into the ring and trying to drag Byron off Cassidy. Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Liam Cassidy had to be taken to a local medical facility after that match. Late last Thursday night, we sent intern Jamie Bond to pick Cassidy up from the hospital. Jamie filed this report. [It is late at night, and the stars are shining bright on Portland, Oregon. Young Jamie Bond, clad in his regular non-work clothes consisting of jeans and a t-shirt, is in the driver seat of a moving automobile.] JB: YouÕre recording now? Why? CAMERAMAN: I dunno. Just testing the camera. [The person holding the camera pans right, showing the scenery of a building drive by as Jamie drives along the street. We can see the reflection of the young cameraman in the side window.] CM: Why am I doing this anyway? JB: Because he asked me to bring a camera. CM: But why am I here? JB: Because youÕre my brother and you owe me one. [Jamie pulls the car over on the street, right into a parking spot. The camera pans back over to him. As it goes, we see the time on the clock on the dashboard says it is 2:54am. Jamie turns the car off and exits the vehicle. His brother does the same, whilst holding the camcorder.] CM: And youÕre sure he said Providence St. Vincent? JB: Yes. Now come on. WhereÕs the emergency room? CM: Over there. [He points, and Jamie begins walking in that direction. In the distance, the doors to the emergency room open up, and out walks a figure. ItÕs too dark and too far to see who it is, but the silhouette of a fedora hat is a dead giveaway.] CM: I donÕt even know why you came out here to get him. HeÕs probably drunk or something. [Jamie turns back to the camera and rolls his eyes.] LC: Hey, lad!!! [The man known as ŅThe Jersey DrifterÓ shouts out to his friend as they approach. As he gets closer, we can see that his right arm is in a sling.] LC: Thanks for cominÕ. I was beginning to think you wouldnÕt show. Thought I was gonna have to walk or something. [The Drifter stops in front of Jamie. The two are standing under a streetlight, and we get a better glimpse of Cassidy and the damage done by Lord Byron earlier in the evening. Liam is still in his red corduroy pants. He has a plaid sweater on, but the buttons are undone and his wifebeater undershirt is visible. Around his neck, he wears a white sling with his right hand resting in it. The wrist is sealed up in a plastercast.] JB: How are you feeling, Liam? LC: Like I had the [BLEEP] kicked out of me. 'Cause thatÕs exactly what it was. I heard that Byron guy was a tough son of a bitch, but I didnÕt know heÕd do something like that. [Jamie runs his eyes over LiamÕs injured paw.] JB: So what did the doctor say? LC: Well, the lads wanted to poke me with sticks and prods. I wasnÕt down with that. I ainÕt ever liked doctors. Not since Stinky Peterson went to one with a broken nose and came back with a set of tataÕs the likes of which youÕve never seen. [Jamie looks confused as he ponders that one.] LC: But thatÕs a whole other story. They told me I fractured my wrist. They took me in for x-rays and waited a couple of hours to come up with that. I coulda told them that when I walked in. Why waste the time, right? Anyway, they taped me up and put this cast thing on. Told me itÕs gonna have to be on for a couple of weeks till my wrist gets stronger. They put me on painkillers too, but I ainÕt got much use for Ōem. Hell, I think I broke a couple of fingers too, but I didnÕt tell Ōem that. I just wanted to get the [BLEEP] outta there. [Liam begins walking. He reaches into his pocket with his one good hand and pulls out a stoagie. He props it in his mouth and fumbles around for his lighter. He lights it up and breathes a good breath of the cigar.] LC: The son of a bitch broke my Goddamn hand, Jamie. [He takes another good long smoke of the cigar before removing it from his mouth.] LC: Do you know what that means to a guy like me, lad? JB: Well... RCW covers your hospital bills, so you donÕt have to worry about that. LC: I ainÕt talking about hospital bills, Jamie. That attack by Lord Byron... [Liam stops dead in his tracks and turns to face his friend.] LC: That was right personal. I saw the look in that fellerÕs face. I know he wanted to do more than break my wrist. He was fixinÕ to take me out for good. JB: Well, you did really embarrass him the week before. LC: That doesnÕt justify breaking a manÕs hand, Jamie. Do you know what I do to survive, Jamie? I fight. ItÕs not like I can just take it easy at work till the thing heals over. For me, my fists are my livelihood. Always have been and always will be. I donÕt care if Byron tries to take out my knee, or makes fun of my mother. I ainÕt seen her in six years. But he did the one thing... That one thing that strikes me deep in my heart, and thatÕs take away my livelihood. [One more puff.] LC: If I donÕt fight, I donÕt get money. I ainÕt always been lucky enough to stay at a hostel or on a good night, at the Motel Six. The times I was, itÕs because I went out and made it happen with these hands here. And now Lord ByronÕs seeing fit to take that all away from me. Well, that doesnÕt sit well with me, IÕll tell you that. JB: The RCW President announced that youÕve challenged Byron for a match at the pay per view. LC: Damn right I did. I ainÕt gonna let that bugger get away with this. He might as well kill me if heÕs gonna try to take away my ability to fight. So the way I look at it is, either he gets one more chance to put me away... Or I get one more opportunity to knock his ass out. JB: But Liam... How can you do that with a broken wrist? LC: Oh, IÕll find a way, lad. ThereÕs always another way. Sure he took away my greatest weapon. IÕm proud enough to be able to admit that. But thereÕs more than one way to skin a cat. IÕve got six weeks for this to heal. In the mean time, looks like IÕm gonna have to find a different way to deal with Byron. JB: Hmm. YouÕre not the first to try that. LC: Well, IÕm gonna do it. [Cassidy looks right at the camera.] LC: You hear that, Byron? You clipped my wing, and for now, I canÕt fly. But come Wild Summer Night, I will find a way to beat you. And I donÕt care if I have to break your arm to do it. Or maybe your knee... Or that fine lookinÕ jaw of yours. You started this, Byron, and youÕve made this real personal now, lad. I donÕt believe in an eye for an eye, but I do believe in retribution. And IÕm coming for it, Byron. IÕm coming for it. [He pauses and takes another large smoke of his cigar. He turns his attention back to Jamie.] LC: So where are we parked, lad? JB: Right over there, Liam. But where are we taking you? You still checked in at the Motel Six? LC: Hrmm. What time is it? JB: Almost three oÕclock. LC: All right, we're just in time for last call at the Arm Bar. You lads up for a round? JB: But didn't you say you're on pain killers? Should you really mix that with... [Jamie stops in midsentence, because he realizes who he's talking to. Liam finishes the cigar and tosses it to the ground before stepping on it.] JB: Never mind. LC: All right lads, let's go get right [BLEEP]'ed. [As Liam opens the door to the car, we cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Cassidy and Byron will meet one more time at Wild Summer Night, and you just know Cassidy will do everything in his power to get that hand back up to full strength before they lock up for the third time. Meanwhile, Lord Byron is going to be in action next week on RAMPAGE -- and we'll hear from him later on tonight. Let's move on. [Cut to footage of the three-way dance... Vinny Carmazzi makes his entrance in his black and white referee's shirt... Rick Marley and Nolan Dorado wrestle, but there is no sign of Ryan Faith... The two men wrestle at a high tempo, Marley with a standing moonsault, a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker that Dorado counters with a DDT... Dorado with a handspring elbow on Marley... Dorado leaps to the top turnbuckle, but the fans' chants of "WALK-ING BOY! WALK-ING BOY!" put him off, and he misses with his top rope legdrop... Marley hits a legwhip takedown... Dorado counters Marley's attempted Limelight with another DDT... Dorado gets in Carmazzi's face, shoving him... and then slapping him! Carmazzi doesn't react... Burwick low-bridges Marley and he tumbles to the outside... Dorado hits him with a spectacular springboard somersault plancha! Ryan Faith and Dinah make their way down to ringside... Dinah immediately starts brawling with Jodee Burwick, and while Carmazzi is distracted, Faith hits Marley with a steel chair, allowing Dorado to hit him with the Golden Guillotine somersault legdrop from the top rope on Marley... Carmazzi has to suffer the indignity of counting the pinfall for Dorado... Dorado demands that Carmazzi raise his arm in victory... and Carmazzi complies, then immmediately applies the Kimura Armbar! Burwick comes to Dorado's rescue, hitting Carmazzi with her shoe and allowing Dorado to lay Vinny out with a superkick.] DD: When RCW official Bobby Belshee was attacked backstage -- and the perpetrator of that attack has still not been found, I might add -- RCW President Daniel Spreadbury was forced to appoint a special guest referee for the big three-way dance on last week's RAMPAGE. And for a match involving "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado, who did he choose? You got it -- Vinny Carmazzi, the man Dorado put on the shelf several weeks ago when he prevented him from wrestling for the number one contendership to the RCW Championship. To his credit, Carmazzi called it right down the middle, even though the three-way dance ended up as a straight one-on-one match, when Dorado and "Showtime" Rick Marley were not joined by Ryan Faith. Dorado and Marley absolutely tore it up out there -- but when Ryan Faith eventually put in an appearance, he cost his Wild Summer Night opponent, Rick Marley, the match... giving Dorado his first ever win here in RCW! Poor Vinny Carmazzi, having to raise in victory the arm of the man who injured him some weeks ago -- and any satisfaction Carmazzi may have derived from slapping on the Kimura Armbar on his nemesis was short-lived, after Dorado laid him out with a superkick. [Cut back to Ditka at the desk.] DD: So Nolan Dorado finally gets a check in the "win" column -- and if you thought this young man was insufferable before, you'd better brace yourself. [The scene switches to an external view shot in daylight, a mountainside meadow surrounded by evergreens while in the background, a majestic snow-covered peak can be seen stretching towards the brilliant blue sky above. In the foreground, "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado can be seen wearing a Rip City Wrestling T-shirt and jeans while on the ground beside him sits Jodee Burwick, her bee-stung lips extended in an unhappy pout. The two are beside a large sign that reads: "Welcome To Mount Hood" and as Dorado looks into the camera's lens, a gleam of reflected sunlight can be seen from the gold caps on his incisors.] ND: A gorgeous day for a bit of sight-seeing here in lovely Oregon. [Turning to look over his shoulder for a moment, Dorado stares up at the mountain peak behind him before turning back to face the camera once more.] ND: Jodee and I are here at Mount Hood, the tallest mountain in Oregon at over 11,000 feet... according to the brochure. Following my recent change in fortunes, we decided to get away from dusty ol' Portland which is... [He points off-camera.] ND: ...oh, about forty minutes thataway. [The smug smirk on Dorado's face clearly indicates that he is enjoying himself.] ND: I wanted to come here to see the tallest mountain in the neighborhood just to remind myself of what lies ahead. For you see, a brand new day has dawned and glorious sunshine beams down upon me! [Indeed, bright sunlight illuminates the meadow quite clearly.] ND: Following the... less than illustrious beginning to my Rip City career, things are finally starting to turn around. The record book is starting to demonstrate my true potential and... what was best of all was that the curtain jerker himself had to raise my hand in triumphant victory! [The smirk fades.] ND: But you're still foolin' yourself, aren't you, Carmazzi? You're still deluding yourself into thinking that you can take away a piece of MY spotlight! [Following the brief display of anger, Dorado's smug arrogance reasserts itself.] ND: The one thing you haven't been able to stand ever since you came to Rip City is that my glorious destiny would always outshine your pathetic lame attempts to claw your way out of the basement where your career has been stuck for years! And so when I finally demonstrate to all of those naysayers that I really *AM* the "Golden One", what did you try to do? You tried to slap that armbar of yours on me. [Dorado chuckles in a sinister tone.] ND: Didn't exactly work now, did it? Just like your plans to injure my arm in the cage at Wild Summer Night aren't gonna work either. And you know why, Carmazzi? Because you're a loser. You've always been a loser and you're always going to stay a loser. Hell, you even believe it yourself! Go back and watch the tapes of every television appearance you've ever made! The drooping shoulders. The hangdog expression on your ugly face! Damn, even *YOU* don't have any confidence in your ability to wrestle so why the hell should I?!? [Once again, Dorado aims an overly broad smile at the camera and his golden caps sparkle in the sunlight.] ND: Which brings me to our other dance partner in that cage match. The overgrown Canuck... LeBlanc. [At the mention of "The Lynx's" name, Jodee Burwick visibly bristles.] ND: You know, LeBlanc, it was bad enough when I already had a beef with you for underestimating me. But then you've got to make things worse by trying to hit on my girlfriend?!? [At this accusation, Jodee's angry expression falters slightly and is replaced by a look of uncomfortable guilt for a moment but this quickly vanishes as she keeps her face turned away from Dorado.] ND: Look, I know Jodee here is the uncrowned First Lady of Rip City... far superior to those jealous hags, Glory, Dinah, and that nutball, Matilda! [Dorado performs a mock shiver of distaste as Jodee preens.] ND: But that's no excuse for you to start harassing her. Find your own date, you overgrown tub of lard! This spectacular example of gorgeous womanhood is far too good for the likes of you. She likes her men... "golden". [Jodee shoots a look of pure venom at the camera as Dorado indicates Mount Hood behind him with a thumb over one shoulder.] ND: I'm climbing the mountain, morons. My journey to inevitable greatness has finally begun. If you think you two wastes of space and oxygen are going to get in my way, you've obviously forgotten the Golden Rule... [Dorado pauses, smiling broadly once more.] ND: ...the "Golden Boy"... rules! [Concluding his monologue, Dorado turns on his heel and begins walking towards the distant mountain peak while Jodee remains seated on the ground, glaring furiously at the camera. After a moment, cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Dorado may be all smiles out there in the great outdoors, but will he still be smiling at Wild Summer Night when he's locked up inside a steel cage with Carmazzi and LeBlanc in a No Escape Cage Match? Folks, when we come back, we'll round out our look at last week's RAMPAGE. Don't go away! [Fade to commercials.] [Fade back to footage captioned "LAST THURSDAY", showing Danny Daniels coming to the ring carrying a box of "Grinning Wallaby" bandanas, followed by Madrock the Irrepressible, who is bringing a box of "YOUR HERO" t-shirts... Madrock beats Daniels several times in succession... Then Daniels grabs his microphone as we hear the original soundtrack:] D'YH'D: And there's a problem! Specifically, those greasy meathooks from Murdock the Octagonal! My hands are so slippery that I can't hold myself together, let along lock up with the guy from Allentown. Someone let me have some chalk! [Daniels reaches into the chalk box... then THROWS the chalk right into the eyes of Madrock!] DD: Madrock's blinded! He's blinded! And Daniels has snapped! He's grabbed the chair and smashes it over the head of Madrock! [Daniels removes his belt and wraps it around the neck of Madrock, choking him out. He starts yelling 'You're Nothing! I'm "YOUR HERO", dammit! You're Nothing!' over and over as he chokes out Madrock.] DD: I don't believe this! Daniels has gone insane! BS: Losing enough times will make people get desperate. Madrock handed Daniels enough losses to make a normal man angry- and Daniels is hardly normal to start with. DD: Madrock is blind, he's being choked out... he's on the mat, and the referee is trying to physically pull Daniels off him. But it's not working, and Daniels continues to choke out Madrock the Irrepressible. Daniels has always had a few screws loose, but we've never seen him this angry before. BS: Considering how badly Madrock was beating him in arm-wrestling, perhaps he felt that an attack from behind was his only hope. It did seem to have worked. DD: Here come several RCW officials to break up this attack. I certainly hope Madrock isn't injured -- he looks like he may be out. [As security swarm the ring, cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Danny Daniels and Madrock the Irrepressible's issues seem to transcend petty squabbles about merchandising after *that* attack from Daniels -- and both men will be in action next Thursday night on RAMPAGE. We caught up with Danny Daniels, who is set to face the Intelligent Thug, Derek Rage, next week in the Garden, and he was *still* protesting the reason for his defeat in last week's arm-wrestling contest. Let's take a look. [The camera fades in to see Danny Daniels. 'Your Hero' is decked out in his usual attire- wraparound sunglasses, a yellow 'Your Hero' t-shirt, long flowing blonde hair. What's new is the cast on his right forearm. It doesn't seem to impede him from speaking, though.] D'YH'D: GREETINGS AND SALUTATIONS! Last week, on the way to the arena, I was stopped by a bus full of nuns. And orphans. They had their schoolbus stuck in a ditch on the side of a road, and required assistance. Being 'Your Hero', I was obligated to help them. So naturally I helped push the bus out the ditch. Uphill. In the rain. With the nuns and orphans still inside. Because I'm just that type of guy. [Danny shakes his head.] D'YH'D: As I was helping push the bus out of the ditch, a gang of bikers came tearing up the highway. Evil bikers -- no, WORSE! Rugby players. From Atlanta, just like Mudrock. They even smelled like him, too- fish guts and limburger cheese. They started attacking the nuns. And orphans. Apparently, this is how they get their kicks in Atlanta. I, of course, could not allow this. After all, these nuns and orphans were looking up to... ME! 'Your Hero', Danny Daniels, a man so nice they namd me twice. [Danny nods sagely as he continues.] D'YH'D: So I started fighting off these rugby bikers -- drunken rugby bikers, I might add -- in the rain, uphill. There were only six of them, so I was doing fine -- BUT THEN... the bus started slipping back into the ditch. Thinking quickly, I used my right arm to hold up the bus as I fought off the drunken rugby bikers -- STONED drunken rugby bikers -- with only my left arm. With only one arm, it took twice as long. But in the end, the stoned drunken rugby bikers were chased off, and the nuns and orphans were sent back onto the road. They tried to reward me, but I refused. After all, what sort of hero would take advantage of orphans? And nuns? [Danny sighs and holds up his cast.] D'YH'D: Tragically, even 'Your Hero' can suffer injuries. And during the process, holding up the bus severely damaged my arm. I still made it to the show, and found myself in an arm wrestling contest with Mudrock the Inevitable. With a damaged arm. Broken in four places, in fact. Thanks to that bus, those nuns and orphans, and those stoned drunken HEAVY METAL rugby bikers... [Danny lowers his voice to a conspirational whisper] D'YH'D: I'm not saying he paid off those bikers, but don't you find it's a strange coincidence that both come from Atlanta, of all places? [Danny nods knowingly as he returns to his usual voice.] D'YH'D: And, as everyone saw, I WON! Yes, I defeated Mudrock soundly, thrashing the poor man. If he hadn't had stolen my valuable shirts I'd have felt sorry for him. But he did, so I don't. Currently the shirts are with the officials -- legal's verifiying that these are, in fact, the real shirts and not counterfeit copies from Vancouver or some other third-world city. But I defeated the evil Mudrock, won back my shirts, and enjoyed the sweet, sweet taste of vicotry over Mudrock! [Danny gives a giant grin to the camera] D'YH'D: This week, I face Derek. And his gal, Layla. Layla, you've got me on my knees. Layla, I beg you darling please. Layla, please don't let Derek -- or any of the Dominoes -- face me in the ring. Because he's a Domino and I'm... ME! 'Your Hero', Danny Daniels, a man so nice they named me twice. [Danny sighs] D'YH'D: But the match has been signed. So I urgently request all of my fans -- I know you want the best seats, but stay away from the first 3-4 rows this time. I know you all want an up close and personal look at 'Your Hero', but when I cut Derek down to size, he could fall over, break the ropes, and land in the audience. Derek is like a giant tree. And I'll cut him down to size. Not by hatchet, axe or sword. But by the greatness that is... ... ...ME! Danny 'Your Hero' Daniels, a man so nice they named him twice. [Danny waves at the camera.] D'YH'D: TOODLES~! [Cut to footage captioned "LAST THURSDAY", showing Christian Right wrestling David Cross... Right jumps Cross before the bell... Right peppers Cross with lefts and right, hits him with a backdrop, and uses his suit jacket to choke the big man... Cross hits Right with a series of soupbones, but Right ducks under a lariat, spins around and hits Cross with a thumb to the eye... Cross hits Right with a huge clothesline... Cross goes for a suplex, but Right blocks, and counters with a DDT... Cross goes for the Ashes To Ashes powerbomb, but Right slips out behind Cross, hits him with a kick to the midsection, and then scores the Crucifix slam for the pinfall!] DD: Christian Right wrestled David Cross in last week's opening match, and what a match it was. Right and the giant Cross went at it -- and at the end of the match, the smaller, nimbler Right came out on top with his Crucifix slam. But things weren't done there. [Cut to more footage following the match: Christian Right moves to the corner of the ring where Cross deposited his silver cross pendant, and removes it from the ringpost. Right looks at it in his hands for a moment... and then puts it around his own neck! Suddenly, there is a commotion in the aisle as the form of Nathan Herod is seen barreling down towards the ring, two RCW security guards in hot pursuit. Heel pop! Herod arrives at the ring and rolls in, shoving the victorious Christian Right aside. Right looks at Herod in shock as the burly Alabaman drags the still-motionless David Cross to his feet. Herod acts fast, knowing that security will be on him momentarily, hooking Cross's arm over his shoulder, grabbing his leg, and hoisting him up for a fisherman's suplex! At the apex of the suplex, Herod snaps Cross down to the mat headfirst, *planting* him with a DDT! Big heel pop! We hear Ditka's original commentary:] DD: HDD! HDD! Herod with the HDD on Cross! [The two security guards now make it to the ring -- but as one of them tries to roll into the ring, he is met with a punch from Christian Right! Big heel pop!] DD: *Now* what?! Christian Right and Nathan Herod are working together?! BS: I don't think so, Don -- I don't think Right is happy with Herod at all, and wants to keep security out of it for the time being! [Indeed, as the fallen security guard is tended to by his comrade, Right turns his attention to Herod, who is looking down at the still-motionless form of David Cross in the ring. Right grabs Herod's arm and spins him around, then shoves him, his face reddening with anger.] DD: Uh-oh, here we go! You're right, Billy Shakespeare -- Christian Right doesn't like Nathan Herod stealing his glory, and now these two men are going at it! [Right and Herod exchange blows in the center of the ring as Jim Bright again signals for the bell!] * DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! * [More security guards pour down the aisle and roll into the ring, trying to separate Right and Herod. The crowd cheer as the brawl rages on! Two security guards each grab Christian Right and Nathan Herod and pull them apart. Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Right now, let's go to Mick Silvestri who has offered to explain the actions of his charge. [In tried-and-true splitscreen-fashion Mick Silvestri's small office slides into the right side of the picture, marginalizing Ditka on the left. The manager is not wearing his familiar Armani outfit, but instead a red and white Nike track suit. Still, his smile is bright as always as he nods at the camera in greeting.] MS: Hello Don, and welcome, wrestling fans across the nation, as I bring you another state of the union about my... and your... favorite wrestler. Alabama's own Nathan Herod. [Another nod, the smile growing even wider.] DD: Mister Silvestri, you asked for airtime tonight to justify Nathan Herod's attack on David Cross last week. MS: I am sure you all witnessed the astounding developments on the last edition of RAMPAGE. Christian Right, the religious zealot or... dare I say it... fanatic... was about to administer a gruesome and horrible beatdown on David Cross. [Don Ditka leans forward to ask but Silvestri gives him no chance to interrupt.] MS: As you know, Don, Nate is a man who was brought up to respect law, order and the American Way and when he saw what was about to happen he took it upon himself, in the spirit of a vigilante like your Batman, to stop this assault. DD: It was _him_ that attacked David Cross. [Silvestri shakes his head.] MS: Cross proved to be ungrateful and as he saw that a greater man came to his rescue he spited him with an insult about his mother I would not dare to utter on live TV and thankfully the ring mics did not pick it up either. Nathan, like any red-blooded son, rose to the challenge and defended the honor of Ms. Herod with extreme prejudice. DD: You presented this same accusation to President Spreadbury and neither he nor any other RCW official chose to believe it. I hear you were fined rather heavily for these actions -- and deservedly so. [Now Silvestri's smile takes a slight hit, but he quickly resumes his demeanor.] DD: It is rumored that Herod attacked David Cross in order to injure him and take his place at "Wild Summer Night". MS: Preposterous. DD: Is it? Has the fact that Christian Right demanded a match with your charge not right into your hands? MS: I do not even know -- NH: Let me answer 'em. [The camera pans to the side to reveal Nathan Herod, dressed in urban camo pants and a black sweatshirt, a half-eaten apple in his right hand.] MS: Nate, let me handle thi... NH: What ah saw last week were 'em two boys wailing on each other with their limp wrists. That might as well have been a pillow fight. Ah chose to wade in there and take out the weak link. The Arr Cee's mah home now, and mah Pa always said "keep yer home in order, son. Ain't no room for weaklings in your house." [Nathan takes a bite out of his apple.] DD: What about the fine? What about the criticism by the RCW front office? [Nathan shrugs, chewing for a moment. Then he swallows and motions at Silvestri.] NH: He takes care o'that. Me, mah job is in the ring, taking on the Preacher Man. [He sneers.] NH: It seems he took offense that ah finished the job he couldn't do, breakin' that Cross fella. Well, the Preacher Man will have to learn that this is not his chapel in South Carolina and that ah'm not a part o'any flock. Instead, let him sing praise to this. [Herod holds up his massive right fist.] NH: Rev'lation _o'pain_ right here, boy. [The camera focuses on the fist for a moment before the right half of the split-screen swooshes to the side and we have our full-frontal view of Don Ditka again.] DD: Nathan Herod seems confident and agressive as always. Still, for all his potential and size, he has yet to score a win here in RCW. Will that first win come at the expense of Christian Right next Thursday night? We'll hear from Mr. Right -- pardon the pun -- later on tonight. [The screen behind Ditka shows the sneering visage of Owen "Truth" Curtis.] DD: And before we leave last week's RAMPAGE, let's just talk for a moment about the rivalry between Owen "Truth" Curtis and "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder. Things took a further disgraceful turn last Thursday night when Curtis took it upon himself to travel down to Brody Thunder's hometown, Tombstone, Arizona, where RCW had sent a camera crew in order to get the comments of Thunder's wife, Tamara, who had witnessed the brutal attack her husband sustained at the hands of Owen and Eddie Curtis two weeks previously. [A still of Tamara's distraught face appears on the screen behind Ditka.] DD: Curtis connived his way into the Thunder household -- and proceeded to tell Tamara all about the alleged indiscretions of her husband from nearly twenty years ago. Folks, wrestlers spend upwards of 300 days per year on the road. The toll taken on relationships with loved ones can be immeasurable. So a marriage that lasts for the better part of twenty years in this business... it's a rarity. And for Curtis to start dredging up things from Brody Thunder's past... it's despicable. Curtis isn't satisfied with trying to destroy Thunder in the ring -- he wants to destroy his marriage, too. [The stunned face of Brody Thunder appears on the screen behind Ditka.] DD: And what was the revelation that threatens to tear Brody and Tamara Thunder apart? Well, apparently Brody Thunder has an illegitimate son, named Logan, from an affair out of wedlock some time ago. Curtis is determined to bring Logan and his father Brody together -- and it's going to happen next Thursday night at RAMPAGE. We'll hear from both men later on. ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / >< >< >< >< >< RAMPAGE RUNDOWN >< >< >< >< >< /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Ditka is once again sat behind the desk and the RAMPAGE logo once again appears on the screen behind him.] DD: So what other action can we expect to see next week on the hardest-hitting, hottest hour of wrestling action anywhere in the US? [The graphic on the screen spins to show the faces of the men involved in the big six-man main event.] DD: It'll be a pier six brawl in the main event next Thursday night, when RCW Champion Johnny Pleasence teams up with his enforcer Dave Bryant and young lion Ryan Faith -- plus, of course, their respective female valets, Matilda, Glory and Dinah -- to face the team of number one contender "Pistol" Paul Driscoll, and two men returning from lengthy injury lay-offs, Tennessee rookie Mark Coleman and submission specialist Vinny Carmazzi. Let's hear from the participants in this match, beginning with Ryan Faith. [Cut to Dinah and Ryan Faith. Ryan rarely gives us his time outside of the arena or RCW-owned properties. Ryan likes to keep to himself. Anyhow, Ryan stands there wearing a black T-shirt with "Got Faith?" written in bold white print and a pair of shredded up, jean shorts. Dinah is at his side wearing a tight white tank top and tight black pants looking so damn sexy. Ryan stands there, continuously flipping his shaggy, brown hair out of his face. Dinah taps him a kiss on his cheek and prepares to speak.] RF: What could this possibly be all about? A six man tag-match teaming me up with the Big Nasty and Mr. Chicken of the Sea. I try to surmise things and try to place things together to see why I get booked in these idiotic matches. Then I still remember that I left the suits in this federation with egg on their face when they tried to suspend me indefinitely and tried to put the clamps on my life. They try to play these stupid little games and put me in these ridiculous matches. What the hell was that nonsense they tried to pull on me with a triangle match? [Ryan just shakes his head] D: I'm not sure what they are thinking most of the time, Ryan. I don't understand why they would insult you by putting in you a match with obviously inferior wrestlers and then expect you not to be upset. Then again they cheer for those idiots, they drool like an 80 year old over wrestlers like Paul Driscoll and Liam Cassidy or Madrock or Daniels. RF: They think I'm here to sell T-shirts. They think I'm here to market this god-awful federation and its god-awful talent. I don't care whether you sell 10,00 tickets or you sell 5. I don't care if the ratings tank or if the PPV buyrates fly through the roof. I can give a rat's ass about all of that. Because it means nothing to me. I don't need the cheers, the adulation of the fans to know what or who I am. I don't need to whore myself out to the gimmicks, the fanfare, the merchandisers, the powers that be. I don't think people are understanding that yet. D: But they will. [Ryan grabs Dinah and brings her in closer to him, face to face.] RF: You damn well know it, babe. All these "fans", the people that say they understand the business, don't understand a damned thing. They judge me for my actions, they ridicule me for the audacity that I show in my words. They hate me, because they don't have the balls to be like me. They don't have it in them to do what they want instead of what others want them to do. What do you see when you look in my eyes? [Dinah cocks her head to the side a bit, intently staring into his eyes.] D: I see fire... I see a passion. I see anger and unbridled fury that isn't matched by another. I see an unstoppable force... a mountain standing tall above the competition. [Ryan just smiles as he stares into his valet/lover's eyes.] RF: You know, you're a sweet tart when ya wanna be. [Ryan focuses back on the camera.] RF: You see, it's all those things that drive me. Those things are what make me that much better than all of you. They make me stand head and shoulders above the crap competition that is here in the RCW. So, you wanna put me now in a six man tag match? Fine so be it. Its inevitable what will shortly come. You'll soon realize that you can't hide Ryan Faith amongst the mediocrity of this roster. You wont be able to put Ryan Faith is pointless triangle or six man matches. Sooner or later, you're going to come to grips with the fact that Ryan Faith came to conquer the RCW and there's not a damn thing anyone can do about it. Only thing you can do... is to prepare.... D: ...to test your Faith. [As Faith and Dinah smirk into the camera, we wipe-cut to Mark Coleman doing bench presses. The young Tennessee native lies on a weight bench, wearing a pair of orange Nike athletic shorts and white tennis shoes. Perspeation covers his arms as he holds a weight bar above his head, the bar wavering slightly as he holds it steady for a few moments. And... then, slowly, he brings it back down to his chest. After a couple of seconds, Coleman lifts it again, and holds it in the air above him. A few more seconds pass, and again, it's slowly brought back down to his chest] MC: One more...just...one... [With a grunt of effort, Coleman pushes the bar into the air. It slowly rises, eventually reaching its highest point as Coleman extends his arms as far as he can. He guides the bar to its resting place, and lets loose a loud sigh once it clinks down.] MC: ...and I got a damn pilates class after this too... [Chuckling as he sits up, Coleman grabs a nearby white towel and wipes his face off with it. The bruise on his neck has faded away, with only a barely visible yellow mark a sign of the trauma that was inflicted on it. Coleman, as he speaks to the camera, talks at a normal volume and without any audible sign of voice damage.] MC: Pilates. Back when I was just startin' out... which, I guess, twelve, thirteen months ago... thought my training would consist of two things. Lifting weights, and runnin'. Maybe stretchin' if my muscles got sore. Few weeks ago, my trainer calls me up from down Atlanta way. Tells me that I'm... not my words here, his... makin' a damn fool of myself, getting my butt handed to me on a semi-weekly basis. Tells me I need to work on my flexibility, make sure I'm stretching myself and my opponents far as I possibly can. Dunno know about you, but when a guy who busted your ass for two years and handed it back to you black-and-blue, he's on the phone tellin' you to try out pilates... ain't a bad idea to listen. Course, the name he brings up is the guy who's been kickin' my behind the past few weeks. Akitoshi Ogawa... you have no idea just how damn happy I am to finally be able to get my hands on you, in a few weeks, at Wild Summer Night. To finally be able to take you on in the middle of the ring, in front of the Portland fans and the rest of the wrestling world, and pound you from pillar to post the entire time. You thought a few weeks ago at the press conference that I made a mistake agreeing to step into the ring with you. You and that hyperactive weasel Zeke Brackett are probably droolin' because you're thinkin' you're gonna right massacre me. Other way around, Ogawa. Finally, one-on-one, sanctioned match, where you gotta look me eyeball-to-eyeball... well, just sayin' the King of the Death Match is gonna find we do things different over here in America and all your death match experience ain't gonna matter a lick. Now, if you'll excuse me... that's about all the time gonna spend this week talkin' about Akitoshi Ogawa. Don't worry yourself, Ogawa. I don't want you rockin' back and forth on your bed at night because I'm not payin' attention. Trust me, you're first and foremost to Mark Coleman right now. I'm just savin' it for two weeks from now. Tonight, you see, gotta talk about somethin' different. Somethin' big. Mainly, myself, in the main event of RCW RAMPAGE. Yeah, gotta admit, most people were probably shocked last week when they saw the lineup for the next show, and there he is. Guy who wasn't even allowed in the arena last time out due to medical reasons... namely the suits bein' sick to death I'd let Ogawa kick my butt again. Guy who is still considered a rookie to some. Guy who's gonna be teamin' in the main event with the #1 contender for the RCW title, lookin' across the ring at the RCW Champion and his flunkies. Guy who's damn estatic at bein' handed this opportunity. Now, those of you who been followin' me ever since RCW debuted way back win... can't help but admit the fact, when it comes to talent, this guy right here, Mark Coleman, got a boatload of it. Yeah, I ain't gonna lie, hasn't translated to hittin' the pay window. But the fact that I'm gonna be on that apron with Paul Driscoll and Vinny Carmazzi gotta tell you, the same suits worried I'd get hurt now worried that they ain't makin' enough money unless they put me right there in the main event. So don't think for a minute, I'm gonna let this chance slip through my fingers. The whole world's startin' to turn their attention to Portland, to the wrestlers here, to what's goin' down in the Rose Quarter each and every card. Whole world's gonna be watchin' Whole world's gonna be seein' Mark Coleman doin' what he does best. Wrestle. Gotta say, lucked out with my draw of tag team partners. On one side, Vinny Carmazzi. Now, let's be honest here. Carmazzi, much like myself, ain't got the best win-loss record here in RCW. Hell, can make the case all he's got is a loss record, now that I think about it. Some people, they'd look at Carmazzi and go "worthless." "No talent." "Overrated." "Can't hack it." "Would rather tag team with Danny Daniels." And, for the record, I'm not talking about David Cross. Still talking about Carmazzi. Myself? Well, look at Carmazzi... kind of in the same boat as he is. Carmazzi's been around for a while, never made his niche, but here he is now. Main event of RAMPAGE. Chance to prove everyone wrong. Chance to show he's got what it takes here. Chance to show RCW management made the right choice to back him up. Pretty much, what we're lookin' at right here is a guy who wants to prove himself by kicking some butt in that ring. Exactly like I do. So, no problems teamin' up with Carmazzi. He's out to prove something. Gotta like that in a tag team partner. Now, other side, and that would be where "Pistol" Paul Driscoll's standin'. Now, a couple of months ago, Driscoll and I went at it, and I easily drew the short end of the stick in that matchup. So, got a guy here who can beat me in the ring. A guy who's hand I'd shake if he offered it. A guy who's earned the #1 contendership for the RCW title, the big belt. Guy who's put up with enough garbage from Johnny Pleasance to close out a landfill. You don't think for a moment I'm glad he's on MY team? Chance to stand side-by-side with a guy who's probably gonna be champion in a few short weeks? Looks good on paper. Looks good on TV. Looks good on my winning resume, too. Like my odds. Like my chances. Especially when I look across the ring at the guys who'll be standin' over there next week. Ryan Faith's first on my list. Funny in a way, Faith. Whole mess with Ogawa started when he jumped into the ring during our match. You, if I recall, bailed. Just up and left the ring. Didn't want to be in there with Ogawa in any way. Now, ain't sayin' that you and Ogawa and Brackett had somethin' planned. Hell, Ryan, if I had your amount of wrestling skills and talent, I'd bail out of the ring any time I saw a no-talent hack like Ogawa look my way, for fear of my life. So, what's gonna go on here, in my mind, is a bit of unfinished business. Don't care much for non-finishes and DQ results, Faith. Lookin' forward to settlin' what we started. Then we got Dave Bryant. Now, Bryant, I gotta say this... back in Tennessee, in high school, would watch wrestling on TV. Caught GLCW through most of its run. Rememberin' you runnin' around up there in Michigan, pretty much kickin' the ass of anyone crossed your path. You, Navage, Mordenheim... yeah, the Unholy Trinity. Good times. Ain't agreein' with how you did things, but ain't gonna say you didn't get it done when you needed to. Man like yourself, bein' smacked around with a fish is definitely beneath you. Don't much care for who you've set yourself up with here in RCW, but can't fault your choices. Steppin' in the ring with you, gonna be a bit of an honor until we start trying to pin each other. Course, this leaves only one guy... the Big Bad himself, the RCW Champion, the guy walkin' around talkin' about how he gets no respect, how no one respects what he does, how no one takes him seriously, how no one wants to let him defend the title, blah blah blah. Where I come from, the way he talks be considered the equivalent of an F-5 tornado. Johnny Pleasance, let me just say this... there's a reason no one respects you. You ain't earned it. Especially as far as I'm concerned. Oh, yeah, sure, I don't matter in the scheme of things. You're the RCW World champ and I ain't above .500 in the win-loss books. So, let me just call it now... you're gonna be sittin' there, bitchin' about how you're in another match where you can't defend your title, where you can't fight like a real man should, so you're gonna go nuts on the entire RCW and show us all what a real villian does. And how you don't respect a single man across the ring from you, and how it's all a waste of your time. Maybe. Course, then again, it ain't gonna be a waste of your time, Johnny. Because, at some point, it's gonna be myself and you in the ring, alone, first time in RCW history, and trust me, by the time one of us tags out, you're gonna know what my name is, you're gonna remember it, and you're not going to blow me off. What I said when you won the belt over Owen Curtis stands. I don't like you, I don't like how you won that belt, I don't like how you've conducted yourself, and I know you don't give a damn what I think. Well, Pleasance, come RAMPAGE, you'll damn well gonna care when I'm giving Akitoshi Ogawa a preview of our match at Wild Summer night by beating your scrawny self all over that damn ring. I ain't wrestled in over a month. Antsy over here. Trust me... ain't gonna like it when I step into that squared circle. Ogawa, hope you're takin' notes. Cause in a few weeks, guarantee you're gonna see it up close and personal yourself. [Coleman tosses a towel aside and walks out of shot as we wipe-cut to the calloused, bruised, rough hands of "Pistol" Paul Driscoll. The number one contender wrings them and cracks them, wrings them and cracks them, as if he's pent up with nervous energy. The camera pans up to the Texan, whose stubble has now formed into a Fu Manchu mustache. He cracks his neck from side to side as he talks, pacing from foot to foot.] PD: There's a time'n place fer everything, as the song goes. Last week, I started the show by tellin' the world jus' why I've been silent. Seein' yerself in someone else, an' searchin' yer soul fer a reason to hate 'em... stuff like 'at is better suited to be done quietly. But once it's done it's done. Now's the time fer action. I get thrown into a six man match with a rook and a never-was on my side, 'gainst Pleasence, Faith an' Bryant. I'll team with them kids if I gotta, but I want you to listen to me, Coleman. I know you ain't gonna shut yer hole fer a flamin' second, Carmazzi, so the best I can tell you to do is jus' do what Coleman does. [Driscoll stops cracking his neck for a moment to look directly into the camera.] PD: Let me handle this one. By all means, show up, collect yer paycheck, do all that stuff... but this one's on me, boys. Be smart an' live to fight another day, 'cause this one's personal. General Pleasence has been gatherin' his army to help him keep that gold 'round his waist, an' he's been siccin' them dirty dogs on me every chance he gets. 'tween bitchin' about gettin' no respect an' settin' Faith up with whores, he's managed to have his lapdogs get him a pound o' flesh 'fore Wild Summer Night with no response from me. Consider this match my formal letter o' response, Pleasence. I found that place in my heart that told me why I needed to rip yer head off, now I'm gonna. You'n yer boys are preventin' me from stampin' this career o' mine, from stampin' this life o' mine as worthwhile. But not fer long. [The Pistol shakes his head no, looking past the camera.] PD: An' Lord knows 'at it makes me sick to my stomach to hafta work with Carmazzi, but on this day even he gets a pass. I'm takin' ya'll three _out_, 'cause it makes _me_ feel good. At Wild Summer Night, I'll do what I gotta do to hold that strap. On my own. No help. Then I can get that stamp that says you done good. But until 'at day comes, I'm settlin' some personal debts that Faith an' Bryant incurred. Ya'll have taken yer shots, but now I'm takin' mine. [As Driscoll continues to stare into the camera, fade in to a quiet hallway inside the Rose Garden. One solitary security guard paces back and forth, across the view. He is a middle-aged man with pepper-gray hair, who on this night, is the one in charge of looking after all the locked doors, faded yellow paint, broken smoke detectors, and cheap fluorescent lights. The hum of the lights and clicks from the guard's shoes are all that can be heard until a door starts to creak open. Staartled, the guard looks down toward the end of the passageway, hand on walkie-talkie. Just as quickly, his face relaxes and he puts his hand back down to the side. A smile begins to emerge, along with a barely-audible "Welcome back." At this point, Vinny Carmazzi finally comes into view. Or at least the back of him as he walks down the hall. Though his face hasn't been seen yet, nobody else would show up for a late night workout in a gray t-shirt, faded jeans, and tattered black sneakers. The adequate lighting and security guard, not to mention unlocked door, were as if he was expected by the Rose Garden and RCW officials. But to Vinny, it's just not the same if you're actually on the radar. He was riding a nice winning streak before Nolan Dorado took him out of action for a while. A long pause in his long-awaited climb up the RCW ladder. He's not undefeated, but he hasn't submitted or been pinned here yet. It seemed like, at the time of his injury, there were some big expectations for Vinny from those in charge of RCW. Perhaps big enough to finally rival his own. And then he was put in the hospital, as a result of a cowardly attack from someone he had already bested on two separate occasions. All the momentum in the world stopped on a dime. But the big, and quite unfamiliar (not to mention uncomfortable) expectations from the higher-ups still remain. Why else would he be placed in a main event in his first match back? His first match since late April, when he was able to beat a submission machine at his own game. Now he finds himself eager to shake off the ring rust. Get all the kinks out before the huge six-man tag team match on RAMPAGE. His first ever main event. His first ever opportunity to be in the ring with a World Champion. But perhaps more importantly, his first ever opportunity to get revenge against the man who is responsible for the only blemish on his RCW record and still disrespects him to this day. The man he was supposed to face when Dorado attacked from behind. So now Vinny finds himself, for the very first time, welcomed into the Rose Garden just after midnight. And also for the very first time, he has no idea of what to do in his next match. The champion is his opponent. The arch-rival is his teammate. Carmazzi nods at the security guard as he walks by, then looks toward the camera.] VC: One-on-one is pretty simple. You beat the other guy. Try not to let the other guy beat you. There's nothing complicated. [Vinny continues on his way.] VC: But this coming week, I'm part of a six-man match. Lots of moving parts. People with agendas. Everyone's got one. Guess I have to have one too. [His dark eyes dart away, lost in unresolved thought.] VC: Got no problem with Coleman. Good thing, 'cause he's on my team. Got no real problem with Faith or Bryant either. Just that they're on the other side. All of us trying to make it to the top. [He returns his gaze to the camera.] VC: Which makes us very different from those who are already there. [A faint echo takes those words all the way down the hall.] VC: Already seeing problems between Faith and Pleasence. Bryant was way too eager to join up with the champ, though he's certainly been around long enough to know that someone else's "enforcer" rarely gets a chance to shine on their own. [Vinny takes a moment. He also knows that chances to shine in this business are few and far between. If they occur at all.] VC: Then there's the sore thumb....or knee, in this case....on my team. My side, but definitely not an ally or someone I can trust. Driscoll made his name beating on the weak. Or those holding back. At this stage in the game, he's nothing but a pretender. But don't let his fragile little ego hear that. It might just shatter the way his leg did. [He lets those words intentionally travel the halls.] VC: Couldn't climb the mountain in his prime. Despite a family who handed him success. Bailed when things got tough. Top contender only 'cause Dorado kept him there. Born on third base and thinks he hit a triple. Looks down on people who have to earn their success. Doesn't seem to remember that he was his family's favorite charity case. [A look of disgust has formed across his face.] VC: And people think it's Pleasence who's got the ego around here. [He continues down the hall.] VC: Just want one opportunity to bitch-slap him right back down to earth. Nothing shrivels the ego like pounding the mat and screaming for mercy. He don't know it, but it'll do him some good. Show him what happens when I'm not holding back. Show him what happens when I want to win just as badly as he does. But unlike him, I worked my ass off for it. Daddy didn't call in favors. [An unusually animated Vinny Carmazzi.] VC: Just one shot to show him what reality looks like. When it looks him right in the eye, grabs his arm, and breaks it in half. [Unusually aggressive in emotion and language.] VC: I have a decision to make. I could use this opportunity to even the score with someone who's had it a long time coming. [You know Vinny likes that choice.] VC: Or I take the opening and put a lasting impression on our champion, the RCW brass, and the industry as a whole. [Vinny also seems to like the intrigue of that option.] VC: Never stood across the ring from a World Champion. Well, it's a little bit of a stretch when applied to Pleasence. But getting him to tap out means just the same. Proves I can hang with the best in our business. Maybe on a good day, become one of them. [Vinny becomes lost in the potential of next Thursday.] VC: And maybe next week, beat one of them. This opportunity is mine for the taking. [As he reaches the gym door, he hesitates.] VC: But for that to happen, I would have to be on the same team... the same page... as Driscoll. And if I'm not, Pleasence and his boys can pick us all off one by one. Not to mention Coleman coming after me wanting revenge. And rightfully so. [His hand reaches into the front pocket of his jeans. He starts to fumble around for the key.] VC: So which pompous ass is going to tap out next RAMPAGE? The one with or without the gold? Risk either way. But the rewards certainly make both situations very much worth it. When it comes down to it, which way will I go? [He finally pulls out the key and turns it in the lock. The door opens. At least tonight, his direction is obvious.] VC: I don't even think I'll know until next Thursday night. But I can tell you this much... [He reaches in and flicks the lights on in the gym.] VC: They both better hope it's the other. [As Vinny pushes the door open, cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Folks, I don't think I've seen such a loaded six-man match with so many intriguing possibilities in a very long time -- and it's going to be tremendous. Don't miss one moment of the action, live from 10pm next Thursday night on KPDX-49. [The screen behind Ditka now shows the faces of Eddie and Owen Curtis, and Brody Thunder with a head-and-shoulders silhouette next to the face of the cowboy.] DD: More tag team action is coming your way next week. We spoke a bit earlier on about how Owen Curtis is determined to wreck not only Brody Thunder's professional career, but also his marriage. Next week, Owen Curtis and his brother Eddie Curtis will team up to face off against the "Lone Wolf" -- and his illegitimate son, Logan... a young man of 18 years of age whom Brody Thunder has never even met! Let's hear from both Curtis and Brody Thunder now. [The picture fades in from black... to mere darkness. The darkness of night. Blurred images of neon tubing and speeding cars slowly gain focus until we see a street sign indicating that we are standing along Interstate Avenue in North Portland. A neon sign nearby announces a motel with daily, weekly and yes, hourly rates, while other signs down the street light the way to other motels. It is here... that the camera pans down to a view of two men -- one taller, one slightly smaller. Both are blond. The tall one has stubble; the other is clean-shaven. They are respectively Owen and Eddie Curtis. They look lost.] OWEN "TRUTH" CURTIS: [Looking down at a sheet of paper] Damn. That address for Logan's mother must not have been up to date. EDDIE "FLASH" CURTIS: You sure? OTC: I'm sure. You see, I wanted to find the woman who effectively raised Logan Thunder, just to learn more about him. After all, we're facing him and Brody in a week's time, on the next edition of RAMPAGE. But no dice. It turns out that she quit her job with Oregon social services some time ago and moved to South Carolina! So his birth mom is gonna have to be the next best thing! But where could she possibly be? EFC: Come on, Owen. As an experienced reporter, you know that most whores move around a bit just to avoid detection by the cops. And besides, some of them are quite worldly! Even sophisticated! Just because Zabasearch has her in the 300 block of Interstate doesn't mean she's not turning tricks somewhere far away in some exotic locale -- say, the 400 block of Interstate! OTC: You could be right. EFC: Of course I'm right. Besides, bro... we don't NEED Logan's mom. We already know everything there is to KNOW about Logan Thunder -- and that's a lot more than Brody knows! [Owen's previous look of distress slowly turns into a smile as he realizes that Edward is absolutely, positively correct.] OTC: You're right. How silly of me. We know his high school history... we know his record in amateur competiton... we know his strengths... we know his weaknesses... we know who trained him for the pros... we know his moves... why, next to Brody, we know everything! EFC: Except one thing. We don't know where the kid is right now, which is too bad. You don't think the two of them are training together now, do you? [Owen thinks about it a bit.] OTC: Nah. I think Brody is still trying to come to terms with the fact that he's been revealed as a fraud. And better yet, he's probably still trying to explain it to his wife, who I don't think is buying it! A woman like that... you don't feed her lies for 20 years and then just have her forgive you when she finds out. EFC: You do if she's from Pi Beta Phi and you feed her a little champagne. You know, tell her she's pretty... even if you're lying... which you probably are, because she's a Pi Phi ... OTC: Well, there is that. But generally, no, most women don't find it too amusing when they learn that you had an illegitimate baby with a whore 18 years ago and kind of, sort of forgot to tell her about it. But even Brody somehow hasn't been killed yet by Tamara, even though she clearly wants to cut off his nuts if she can find them, and even if Logan IS training with Brody, it ain't gonna help. They can train all they want. They can strategize until the cows come home. You and me, Eddie... we've worked together for years. You and me... we know what the other is going to do before the other even thinks of it. You and me... we're a TEAM. Logan and Brody, on the other hand... they just met each other, and we're the ones who made the introduction! Our sheer TEAMWORK is going to win out! Teamwork and technique. The flawless... against the clueless. It's gonna be no match at all. EFC: What about Brody's anger? OTC: Anger? Pffft. What a dumb question. EFC: It was merely rhetorical. OTC: Anger... let me tell you about anger. Brody's is NOTHING compared to mine. Mostly because I keep beating him up, humiliating him, and he just refuses to do what old cowboys are supposed to do, which is dig a hole on Boot Hill and then fall into it. Brody Thunder doesn't deserve my respect. You know that. Look at what I've had to do to get him signed up for a match. He didn't hunger for competition! He hungered for golf -- until he met me. Then he hungered for revenge -- just so long as there was a healthy paycheck involved. EFC: But doesn't a Lights Out match at Wild Summer Night play in his favor? He can do anything he wants in a match like that. And there are things, Owen... things he wants to do to you. And they're not pretty. And your knee... won't be protected. Not by officials, not by insurance, and not by the promoter. It makes me nervous. [Owen glares at Eddie. Eddie answers with a shrug and a smile.] OTC: I know -- You want me to tell the people why I'm not scared, because I'm sure they're wondering. I got no problem with that. The thing is, I have no problem fighting Brody Thunder in any type of match. It can have any rules, it can have no rules, it can have slide rules. You boil it down any way you want, the result is the same. You have a high school and collegiate champion turned pro, who is in his prime, against an uneducated veteran who is not. He'll be outsmarted, outmuscled, outclassed, outmaneuvered and outgunned. And it all starts next Wednesday. I've already weakened him with two brutal beatings and a humiliation. What's he done to me? He rolled me up. Boo hoo. The fact is, we got the guy on the ropes. This is where we isolate him from Logan and begin to finish him off. EFC: It is one thing to mess with Owen Curtis. But you multiply that by two, you're messing with the Curtis Brothers. That's twice as bad. OTC: I couldn't have said it better myself. Brody, I know you're watching -- see you there. And Logan? We hate to do this to you. Brody's done enough to ruin your life. We know that. But you're in the way. So when Eddie and I are standing over each of you, one foot on each of your chests -- remember, we're sorry we had to do it. EFC: To you that is. Not to Brody. BOTH: And that... that's the Truth. [The camera pulls back from both of their arrogant smirks, the picture dissolving into a fuzz of nighttime neon again. Fade to blackness.] VOICE: First ya made it physical... [Fade in on grainy black and white slow-motion footage of Owen "Truth" Curtis hitting his devastating "Obituary" finisher on Brody Thunder on top of the IIWF award plaque. Fade out to black.] VOICE: Then ya made it serious... [Fade back in to footage of Curtis as he waves the newspapers in a terrified Tamara Thunder's face. Fade out to black.] VOICE: But now? You've gone over the line. [Fade in on yet more grainy footage of Curtis next to a distraught Tamara Thunder. Owen holds up a photograph of a 18-year-old kid.] VOICE: You've made it personal. [Fade in to a meaty fist being slowly wrapped in white athletic tape. Fade out.] VOICE: This is beyond jus' a wrestlin' match. [Fade in on a black wrestling boot being laced up.] VOICE: This is no longer about old school vs. the new age. [Fade in on a black elbow pad being slid into place on a rawboned arm and slapped hard. Fade out.] VOICE: An' this sure as hell ain't about who's the better man. [Fade in on a black kneepad being slowly pulled up onto a thick knee. Fade out.] VOICE: What this is about is a psychopath tryin' ta tear apart a family. It's about doin' the right thing. [A black leather vest slides up onto a wide back. On it are the words "EVIL, MEAN & NASTY". Fade out.] VOICE: It's about a fight.. not a *match*.. a *fight*.. between two men. No rules. No ref. No reason ta hold back. [Fade in to the same waist-up backside shot as the figure places a black cowboy hat on his head and cinches it down snug. Fade out.] VOICE: It's *the* most dangerous kinda fight you'll ever be in, Curtis.. [Fade in on the same backside waist up shot once again. The figure slowly turns and faces the camera. It's exactly who you thought it was... "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder.] VOICE: ...cuz it's a fight fer yer gawdamned life. A Light's Out match. Y'know what that is, runt? It ain't some lame wrasslin' match where a pinfall or submission ends it. It ain't some booker's idea fer a special stip match. It's a match that's only made when two men can't settle the score inside the rules of professional wrestlin'. It's a match that won't be sanctioned by Dan Spreadbury an' the RCW because they knows it's gonna be so brutal so violent that they don't wanna have any part o'the ramifications it will have an' believe you me, Curtis... It WILL have ramifications. What you've done to my wife goes beyond the confines o' a squared circle. What you've done to our lives has NO place in the world let alone my chosen profession. You took this to a level where I never thought anyone would ever go. Fer that yer gonna pay a price, my friend. An' I'm gonna exact that price at Wild Summer Night. You think yer gonna put me an' my wife thru hell? Heh, heh... hoss... You got NO idea what hell is. [Tight close up of Thunder face, his teeth clenched in anger.] BT: But you will.. very, VERY soon. [Thunder drives his right fist into his left open hand with a sickening *SMACK*. The screen goes abruptly black. Fade to commercials.] [Fade back from commercials to Ditka sat in the studio, the faces of Lord Byron and "Showtime" Rick Marley on the screen behind him.] DD: Welcome back to On The Wire, folks. Next week on RAMPAGE we'll see the aristocratic blueblood Lord Byron take on exciting cruiserweight "Showtime" Rick Marley. Both men are gearing up for matches at Wild Summer Night -- Byron against Liam Cassidy and Marley against Ryan Faith -- and this will be a test for Byron, who's still finding his feet after a seven year lay-off from professional wrestling. But one thing Lord Byron is not short on... is confidence. I understand that we have Lord Byron online now -- live all the way from his new residence in Manhattan, New York. [The studio image is replaced by footage of a beautifully furnished and thoroughly modern apartment, complete with a magnificent view of the New York skyline from the floor to ceiling windows that make up the majority of the far wall. The viewer's attention, however, is caught first not by the view from the window, or by the richness of the fixtures and fittings, but by the contemptuous visage of the man the camera swiftly focuses in on, the British Blueblood himself, Lord Byron. Dressed as sharply as ever in a finely tailored Italian suit, blue silk shirt and navy tie, and his hair tied back into his usual tight ponytail, even sat behind an executive-sized desk, Byron cuts an impressive figure. The discoloured bruise around his left eye appears to have faded nicely, as well.] DD: Lord Byron, welcome to RCW On The Wire. [There's a brief pause as the satellite link feeds through] B: My pleasure, Mr Ditka. DD: First things first, Byron -- congratulations on your first RCW victory at RAMPAGE... [On screen, Byron inclines his head with a faint smile] DD: But what prompted that... that... heinous attack on Cassidy after you had already won the match? Byron, from my point of view -- and most of the RCW fans, I'm sure -- your actions at RAMPAGE were completely unnecessary and uncalled for! [Byron smirks, and leans back in his chair at Ditka's comments.] B: You see, Don... may I call you Don? You see -- that's where you're wrong. Completely wrong. DD: But you had won the match, Byron. You had nothing else to prove! B: Wrong again, Don. [Byron sneers] This wasn't simply about winning a match. Cassidy's ...victory [Byron almost spits the word] over me in that travesty of a match one month ago -- that was nothing more than a fluke. You know that, I know that, the whole world knows that. The only person who didn't was probably Cassidy himself -- until last week. I didn't need to prove I could beat Cassidy, Mr Ditka -- that result should have been self-evident. No, my actions were intended to prove another point entirely. DD: And what on Earth could your attempt to break Cassidy's arm possibly prove? [Byron smirks, and pauses, toying with a pen in his hand.] B: Simply put, Don, that there is no place in the wrestling industry for a joke like Liam Cassidy. [Byron's smirk vanishes, and he leans forward over his desk, pointing at the camera with the pen.] B: Cassidy is a bare-knuckle boxer, Don, a street fighter -- a talentless ghetto urchin who has no business whatsoever in a wrestling ring. Any fool with a fist can knock someone out, Ditka -- but a wrestler, a wrestler like myself... we break our opponents down. Last Thursday at RAMPAGE, I proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Cassidy is a one trick pony in the ring... and then I took that single trick away from him. [Back in the studio, Ditka appears somewhat speechless.] B: What has Cassidy got to offer RCW, Ditka, other than a somewhat impressive [Byron unconsciously rubs his left eye] right hook? And now I have taken that weapon -- his only weapon -- away from him, where does he go from here? I'll tell you: straight back under the rock he crawled out from. With a bottle of bourbon to ease the pain. [Byron lip curls in disdain, and he steeples his fingers on the desk] B: But this is not a message I have sent just to Liam Cassidy, Don. DD: ...no? B: It's a message I am sending to his employer, as well. [Byron reclines back in his chair, throwing his arms wide in an expansive gesture, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he continues] B: Our *esteemed* President, Mr Daniel Spreadbury. This isn't the first time I have crippled one of Spreadbury's protegˇs, Mr Ditka -- you know your wrestling history; I'm sure you understand. My actions last week were a message, Ditka, a message and a warning. Daniel's spoken at length about "protecting" the stars of RCW -- but now I've signed an "official" [again, Byron's voice takes on a mocking tone] RCW contract -- a situation that has arisen entirely due to our President's insistence -- what is going to protect them from me? And now, next RAMPAGE, I find Daniel throwing another young lamb to the wolf... a certain "Showtime" Rick Marley. A man whose style appears to show more than a passing resemblance to that of your broadcast colleague, Mr Ditka. [Byron's expression becomes serious once more, and he leans towards the camera again.] B: But let me finish by saying this: Cassidy -- you and I have a date set at Wild Summer Night. I understand that you have been barred from action at RAMPAGE, to give your arm time to heal. [Byron smirks] Let me give you a little advice, son: walk away. Hop on the slow coach to Kentucky, find peace in a bottle, do whatever you want -- but don't make the mistake of thinking you can challenge me on my own terms again. The best in the business can't match me with two arms; what chance do you really think you have with one? If I meet you in the ring again, I WILL finish the job -- and your career. [Byron sneers, and looks away from the camera, gazing out at the rapidly-darkening Manhattan skyline.] B: Ciao, Mr. Ditka. Please do give my regards to Billy Shakespeare. [The live transmission ends, and we cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Lord Byron, ladies and gentlement. [The screen behind Ditka now shows the faces of Derek Rage and "Your Hero" Danny Daniels.] DD: Three weeks ago, Derek Rage caused controversy when he used a frozen fish as a weapon against the man he will face at Wild Summer Night, Dave Bryant. What on earth will Rage do when he's in the ring against "Your Hero" Danny Daniels next Thursday night? Let's hear from the Intelligent Thug now. [We see Derek Rage watching footage of Danny Daniels attacking Madrock the Irrepressible after their arm-wrestling challenge. Derek Rage stands before the screen, arms folded. His biceps bulge against the cuffs of his short-sleeved shirt. He taps a single, long forefinger against the huge, dark-skinned muscle. His smirk is both amused and disgusted.] DR: Danny Daniels, you are not my hero. I'm not amazed by the things that you do. I am not awed by the things you do. I am not amused by the things you do in the ring. In fact, you bore me. You are barely a man, barely a wrestler, but it is my duty to compete against you. That's what wrestlers do. We compete. Honourably and scandalously. We soar with the eagles and we slither with the snakes. That's what we do. But the name of the game is to entertain the fans. [Derek's face is incredulous.] DR: Do you really think you're entertaining anybody? So you talk as loudly as you can into a cordless microphone all the time. So you proclaim yourself brilliant? Innovative? Clever? You aren't. Your story is tired. Your schtick is tired. You were very lucky to be facing Madrock the Irrepressible in that arm wrestling match. You see, he's not too smart. He's irrepressible, but he's not bright. And he still managed to beat you. Now, I am a smart man. A very smart man. Smart enough not to take you lightly. Smart enough to realise that Dave Bryant might be looming somewhere around the ring. I'm smart enough to have all the bases covered. DR: So you want to be a hero. You think you're a hero. Well, the funny thing is that people love to see a hero fall. And I promise you when we meet in the ring... you will fall. Fade to black. [Cut back to Ditka in the studio. The screen behind him now shows the scarred faces of Akitoshi Ogawa and Madrock the Irrepressible.] DD: Now you want to talk about a hard-hitting match. Try this on for size: the former King of the Death Match and the freak from up on Abbott's Peak. That's right: Akitoshi Ogawa and Madrock the Irrepressible, one on one. Let's hear from them both now. [The shot opens behind Zeke Brackett, who is standing on a rooftop overlooking the city of Portland. The sun is beginning to set over the city and the orange glow stains the buildings as the everyday hustle and bustle is heard beyond the camera. Brackett is wearing a black polo shirt and jeans, his tattooed arms visible as his hands rest in his pockets. Ogawa is nowhere to be seen. Brackett beings to speak, and it is clear that he is seething in anger.] ZB: I don't have much to say. Not to Coleman. Not to Madrock. Not to anyone. [He turns towards the camera and raises his hand to his cheek, rubbing his ever-present stubble. He glances towards the camera, his calm face betraying his angry, shaking tone.] ZB: Coleman, you want to embarrass Ogawa and I in front of the media... in front of RCW fans... in front of the world? You want to be to be the friggin' wise guy? I cannot wait until Wild Summer Night. I can already imagine how sweet it will be to see those huge arms wrap around your throat and shut you up for good. [He turns back towards the skyline, giving a slight snort before spitting onto the street below. He takes a moment to pause and reflect before turning back to the camera.] ZB: Madrock? I couldn't care less about him. Aside from being the only other RCW wrestler besides Akitoshi Ogawa who doesn't speak English, I can't say I really know anything about him. From what I've seen, he just yells and mumbles about wallabies and acts like a goddamn pirate or something. Doesn't matter much. Do you want to know where Ogawa is? He's training. Right below me. In this very building. He is preparing himself for a war, no matter who his opponent is. [His trademark cocky smirk breaks across his face, and he leans into the camera, his voice trembling.] ZB: That is the different between Akitoshi Ogawa and the rest of RCW. 6 hours a day. 7 days a week. This man trains his body and his mind to be the best it can possibly be. I've said it before and I'll say it again... you people look at his history and you cast him aside as a one trick pony. A stuntman. A guy who will take the nasty bumps to make up for his lack of mat skills and sheer power. [His eyes zero in on the lens, and his voice is as cold as ever.] ZB: Wrong. Dead wrong. [And without another word, Brackett exits, the camera following him as he makes his way to a small stairwell that leads down into the building. Brackett strides down the stairs and a door can be heard closing behind him. The camera turns to the pale orange sunset, and the sounds of the city can be heard as the shot fades to... the lair of the monster king, where all is darkness. A strange hunched figure is the only thing standing out from the dim. It shuffles, it rustles, it crackles with muted sounds. A low murmur is heard amidst the shadows as the giant form shifts from within his den.] M: Cold steel 'pon my cranium, head covered in gore... [The monster stirs into action, as if awoken from a fitful slumber. The murmur turns to a growl, a mean fitful snarl runs through the cold still air of the room.] M: Second time since they've laid me out on the floor... [The behemoth frame begins to stand, but it's a difficult effort. It groans as it moves, aches as it gets to it's feet. The once solemn, menacing voice becomes filled with anger!] M: This... [Filled with rage!] M: MEANS... [Filled with hate!] M: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!! [Massive fists smash against the door, reducing it to splinter as Madrock the Irrepressible erupts from his den! Snorting through his nose like some possessed animal, the Cockatoo Island beast speaks with unprecedented furor as wooden shards still fall off from the wreckage that was the locker room door. RCW interviewer Jamie Bond came to film the bruiser after the brutal attack last week but can only recoil in fear as the Australian wildman busts out in a frenzy.] M: WAR! I come down like thunder; rend you asunder! Daniels, they named you twice, I'm about to smash you just once and I'll hear from you nevermore! Call it a countdown to your annihilation, ending with a nukular detonation! You hit me with chairs? I'll be dropping bombs! Hope you packed up your shirts cuz I'll be bringing the hurt, along with the heavy artillery and da entire B-52 airborne!! AAAAAAAAARRRRGH!!! [Jamie Bond stands shell-shocked, looking for cover! Madrock doesn't even seem to notice that he is being filmed on camera! Ranting and raving mad, Madrock froths at the mouth as he yells at the top of his lungs his military undertaking! Engrossed in his rage, Madrock seems concerned only at yelling his displeasure to the gods.] M: When I get in the ring I hit like a tank! I'm a one-man armored raid! I charge with a thousand clarions calling and my fists strike like ordnance! Wherever I fight it's a battlefield; the earth is heaved, men are tossed aside, walls get blown apart! Danny Dannels, you called forth war and unleashed hell! Now it's Madrock who comes and he's the bane uv' Brisbane, the monster from Almunster, the freak up Abbott's Peak!! Know that when Madrock comes you have nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide, no hope to survive! Because I don't leave 'til the bodies are stacked on high and the ground is pocked with the blows from my passing... And as for the Ogawa... [Madrock's head spins inadvertently towards the remaining camera. Perhaps he has just discovered that he was being filmed. A smirk slowly makes it's way across his lips. He chooses his words with care.] M: You aren't a very good person, aren't you? [Madrock's half broken teeth make an appearance through his grim smile.] M: In fact, your mouthpiece ain't exactly a swell guy either! [No smiles. Madrock the Irrepressible understands he is being filmed for the On the Wire television show and approaches the camera with the intent to deliver a message. His head shivers with malicious intent, it is a cold hard gaze staring straight towards the camera lens as the beard shivers] M: When Madrock goes to war he holds nuthin' back. Good people get trampled, bystanders are caught underfoot; NOBODY'S SPARED! I'z got my hump on and I'z STOMPIN' everything in my way; and this time, I couldn't find a nicer guy to get in that way! Wanna bring a fight to the ring, break a few necks? Try to break the one attached to the shoulders attached to the arms attached to the fists that wanna tell you different!!! Long ago I met some chaps just like you: foreigners who thought they knew all about the "REAL FIGHTS" with their tough guy chaperones kissing their arses every step of the way! Word through the grapevine is they jumped ship rather then muck about with the Madrock! Those were the smart ones! [Madrock takes his breath as he reflects upon everything that he just said. It seems that a quite malicious idea formed inside of his head, sparked by an old memory rising up from the haze that is his battered mind. He runs his hand through his beard as he recollects his thoughts.] M: Mark Coleman, is it? You're the one who had the chair rammed up into your throat so you can't speak anymore, right? Saw you do the ninja impersonation last time, at the press conference if I recall. I want you to thank me for what I'm about to do. [Close up upon Madrock's face as we see clearly the deliberate manner by which he decides to let his plans known.] M: Not because I'm going to beat the monsters that did this to you, oh no! I'm going to do ya one better! I'm going to make God-fearing men out of these pieces of trash that assaulted you. [Madrock nods his head.] M: Ogawa, Zeke... I'm going to have you remember why men first venerated the heavens. Because it was not out of gratefulness for the abundant bounty that they received. [The giant shakes his head before speaking.] M: But for the frightening TERROR that they inspire! [A look of murderous intent flashes through his eyes!] M: FIRST HAND! MAAAAAAAAAAAADROOOOOOOCK!!!! [Cut back to Ditka in the studio. A beat.] DD: ... [The images on the screen behind Ditka change to show the faces of Christian Right and Nathan Herod.] DD: Rounding out next week's RAMPAGE is a match pitting two men, each with convictions as strong as each other: Christian Right takes on the man who crossed him -- no pun intended -- last week, Nathan Herod. We've already heard from Nathan Herod tonight, and... [As is becoming customary, Ditka is cut off by a booming voice:] VOICE: THE FOLLOWING IS PAID FOR BY CHRISTIAN RIGHT WRESTLING IS AN ABOMINATION AND A SIN AGAINST THE FATHER, THE SON, AND THE HOLY GHOST. NOW CHRISTIAN RIGHT IS HERE TO SAY A FEW WORDS. [Cut to Christian Right standing in the middle of a ring: it is dark but there is a light shining on him.] CR: Hello all, may you serve the lord, and may his eternal glory light up your miserable and dismal lives. This is where the barbarity takes place. Right in this little ring. This little microcosm of hell allows men to turn into beasts. Wrestlers are the most heinous, uncivilized, heathen, hell-bound souls I've ever seen! You can look no further than Nathan Herod! Mr. Herod is a heathen! Unkempt, untamed, the man is wild! Only the loving light of God can take a man such as Nathan Herod and turn him back into a normal human being. Nathan, you're an animal. God created animals, and what God can create God can destroy. God will destroy you, he will give me the strength to beat the devil that lives inside of you. Please Nathan, I'm offering you a choice. Repent yourself, or allow God to focus his wrath upon you for being such a sinner. [Christian turns to another camera.] CR: Cross, I'm not done with you. True, my match at next week's RAMPAGE is with Herod, but at Wild Summer Night, that satanic pay-per-view event, I'm scheduled to meet you in this very ring. I have no problem with making you an example to the entire world. You, and Herod, will be examples of what the Christian coalition will do to sinners. I'm a man on a mission and with my army of good Christian followers, along with the father, the son, and the holy ghost, I will make it my personal crusade to change you men for the better. I mean, you guys have to think about it in terms of the future. What would you rather have? Eternal light and glory? Or... [Suddenly the ring turns ablaze and a red light shines through.] CR: Eternal damnation with Satan! [The light suddenly shuts off, and once more we hear the booming male voice:] VOICE: THIS MESSAGE WAS PAID FOR BY CHRISTIAN RIGHT. WRESTLING IS A SIN AND ALL WHO WRESTLE AND DESTROY ARE SINNERS. CHRISTIAN RIGHT WILL MAKE AN EXAMPLE OF NATHAN HEROD AND DAVID CROSS. THANK YOU AND HAVE A NICE DAY. [Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Folks, Christian Right... just isn't right. But be that as it may, he will face Nathan Herod one week from tonight on another loaded RAMPAGE, and you can be there! A few tickets are still available! [A graphic appears on the screen, showing the Ticketmaster logo and the phone number of the Rose Garden's box office.] DD: Get down to the box office in person, call by phone, or click onto www.ticketmaster.com to be sure you get your ticket for next week's event. [The graphic spins to show the logo of Wild Summer Night.] DD: Bad news, however, if you wanted to be at the Rose Garden for the RCW's historic first-ever pay-per-view event, Wild Summer Night, on Sunday night, July 16th. This event is now officially a sell-out, and twenty-thousand-plus fans will be there in the Rose Garden to see such incredible matches as RCW Champion Johnny Pleasence defending against "Pistol" Paul Driscoll, and Brody Thunder battling Owen "Truth" Curtis in a Lights Out match. What a night it's going to be! [Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: So the only way to be a part of Wild Summer Night now will be to welcome RCW into your home on pay-per-view -- contact your local cable operator for details! Folks, we are right out of time. I will be back with you one week from tonight, along with my broadcast colleague "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare, for another hour of hard-hitting wrestling action, when RCW comes back at you *live* with RAMPAGE. Until then, this is Don Ditka, wishing you a good night, everybody! [The lights in the studio fade. Ditka shuffles his papers as the camera pans up to the RCW logo mounted above the set, and we fade to black.] ____________________________________________________________________ / Copyright (C) 2006 Rip City Wrestling, Inc. All rights reserved. / / www.ripcitywrestling.com / /___________________________________________________________________/