___ ______ __ _, _, _ ___ _,_ __, _ _ _ __, __, / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / \ |\ | | |_| |_ | | | |_) |_ / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / \ / | \| | | | | |/\| | | \ | /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~ Thursday 6 July 2006 ["Bodies" by Drowning Pool plays as the opening graphics fade through to show the RCW studio. The camera pans down from the large RCW logo mounted on the set as the lights rise, coming to rest on the figure of the voice of RCW, Don Ditka, who is wearing an open-necked shirt with the RCW logo stitched onto the breast pocket. Ditka looks up from the sheaf of papers in his hands and smiles at the camera.] DD: Welcome, everybody, to RCW On The Wire! We are now just ten days away from RCW's first-ever pay-per-view, and in this hour we will be looking back over the incredible events of last Thursday night's RAMPAGE, and looking ahead to the nine blockbuster matches coming your way in ten days' time. It's the world of professional wrestling in sixty minutes -- so let's get started! ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / << << << << << << REWIND << << << << << << /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Ditka is now seated behind the glass-topped desk, the RAMPAGE logo on the plasma screen behind him.] DD: Folks, what an hour of hard-hitting action it was last Thursday night in the Rose Garden. In the last live event ahead of Wild Summer Night, the RCW President had booked a series of tag team matches pitting Wild Summer Night opponents against each other -- and in one memorable case, forced enemies to work together to prevail against a common foe. And if the action on RAMPAGE is anything to go by, Wild Summer Night is going to live up to its name! [Cut to footage captioned "LAST THURSDAY" showing Paul Driscoll and Brody Thunder squaring off against Owen Curtis and Johnny Pleasence. Don Ditka's voice-over can be heard as the footage rolls... Thunder points at Curtis, telling him he wants him in the ring, but Curtis ducks out and it's Pleasence who locks up with Thunder to start the match... Thunder hits a series of suplexes on the champion... Pleasence drops Thunder with a snap DDT... Pleasence slaps the face of the cowboy, drawing a gasp from the fans... Thunder unloads with uppercut after uppercut on the RCW champion... Thunder tags Driscoll, who immediately locks Pleasence up in the torture rack, but the champ shifts his weight, and both men tumble to the outside... while Owen Curtis distracts the official, Pleasence strikes Driscoll with a steel chair... Pleasence tags in Curtis, who mocks Thunder by miming needing a walking stick... Thunder is stuck on the outside of the ring as Curtis and Pleasence work Driscoll over... Driscoll manages to turn the tide, targeting Owen's knees... Curtis again distracts the official, and Matilda unloads on Driscoll with a steel chair for the second time... Curtis tags Pleasence back in, and Pleasence plants Driscoll with a sit-out facebuster, then unleashes a volley of suplexes...] DD: Owen "Truth" Curtis teamed up with the man who defeated him to become the first ever RCW Champion, Johnny Pleasence, to face the legendary "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder and number one contender "Pistol" Paul Driscoll in a match that was all-action from bell to bell. Curtis and Pleasence were able to work together surprisingly well -- and the RCW fans were treated to another balls-out performance from the champ, who showcased the aggression and violence that is becoming the hallmark of his title reign. [...Driscoll finally makes the hot tag to Thunder, and Thunder launches himself at Curtis, then at Pleasence, who rolls back into the ring... Driscoll comes back into the ring, and all four men duke it out in the middle of the ring... in the confusion, Matilda goes unnoticed as she grabs the RCW Championship belt from the timekeeper's table... Thunder and Driscoll are whipped into each other in the middle of the ring... Thunder turns and is hit by the Front Page Mugshot by Curtis -- and Driscoll turns into a strike to the face from the belt... Pleasence then drops the belt to the canvas and drops Driscoll onto it with the Johnny Spike!... Thunder grabs Pleasence and goes for the Widowmaker, but Curtis clips Thunder's knee as he has the champion up in the air, and both men fall to the mat... Curtis kicks Thunder out of the way and makes the cover on the bloodied Driscoll... match official Juan Morales doesn't see that Driscoll's foot was on the bottom rope, and counts his shoulders down for the three-count! Thunder and Curtis fight into the crowd, while the bloodied Driscoll knocks Pleasence from the ring, and the two men stare at each other, hatred in their eyes. Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: The match ended in controversy when Driscoll was pinned by Owen Curtis, despite Brody Thunder being the legal man, with his foot on the ropes, no less. Paul Driscoll took one hell of a beating in this match, taking two shots from a steel chair and two shots from the RCW Championship -- and though that was enough to put him down for the three-count, it wasn't enough to take him out, and Driscoll ejected Pleasence from the ring to close the show. You just know that this will only make Driscoll all the more determined to pull it out of the bag come Wild Summer Night. ** TODO: Driscoll RP DD: And what of Curtis and Thunder? The animosity between these two is just off the page. Thunder was pacing the apron like a caged animal for much of that match, and once he got his hands on Curtis... boy, did he look dangerous. Owen Curtis may have unleashed a monster that he cannot control, and as the two of them brawled their way out of the arena last Thursday night, it may well prove to be just a taster of their Lights Out match, coming in just ten days. [Cut to more footage captioned "LAST THURSDAY" showing Mark Coleman and Akitoshi Ogawa facing Orin LeBlanc, Vinny Carmazzi and Nolan Dorado... LeBlanc and Coleman feel each other out at the start of the match... Coleman hits Dorado with a delayed vertical suplex... Dorado hits Coleman with a moonsault dropkick!... Dorado goes to make the tag, but both LeBlanc and Carmazzi drop down to the arena floor... Dorado turns and is clotheslined by Coleman... Coleman tags in Ogawa, who lights him up with a series of palm strikes, then a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker... Dorado hits a superkick on Ogawa, then rolls out of the ring and into the embrace of Jodee Burwick, but LeBlanc and Carmazzi are having none of it, grabbing Dorado and rolling him back into the ring... Ogawa hangs Dorado up in the Tree of Woe, then charges in with a knee to the midsection... Burwick gets up on the apron and is pulled down by Zeke Brackett, drawing Orin LeBlanc to her aid -- but Ogawa slides out of the ring and lays LeBlanc out with a Shunji Street Sweeper!...] DD: The so-called Strange Bedfellows Handicap Tag-team Match certainly lived up to its billing -- in fact, it may have stolen the show! Orin LeBlanc, Nolan Dorado and Vinny Carmazzi, who will square off inside a steel cage in just ten days, forced to team up against Tennessee rookie Mark Coleman and Japanese King of the Deathmatch, Akitoshi Ogawa, who will do battle in a Submission Match at Wild Summer Night... and what a collision it was! There are so many subtexts here, folks. Jodee Burwick continued to torment Orin LeBlanc, luring him into an ambush on the outside of the ring from Ogawa, who hit him with a devastating Shunji Street Sweeper. [...Dorado tags in Carmazzi by slapping him across the face... Carmazzi charges at Ogawa with a series of uppercuts... he drops him to the mat with a jawbreaker... Ogawa tags in Coleman, who soon locks in the Tennessee Valley Lock, drawing LeBlanc into the ring to rescue Carmazzi... Carmazzi applies the Kimura Armbar on Coleman, only for Ogawa to storm the ring, and suddenly LeBlanc, Carmazzi, Ogawa and Coleman are all slugging it out in the middle of the ring... Ogawa applies the Blackout on LeBlanc... and Dorado comes off the top rope, hitting the Golden Guillotine on both men... Ogawa and Carmazzi are squaring off in the ring, LeBlanc has a steel chair... and LeBlanc swings at Ogawa, who ducks, and the Canadian nails Carmazzi by mistake!... As Dorado takes both LeBlanc and Ogawa out, Coleman hits the Southern Cross Bomb on Carmazzi to score the pinfall!] DD: Things just got wilder from there, Nolan Dorado showcasing the innovative, explosive high-flying style that makes him one of the most exciting young talents I've ever seen, both Ogawa and Coleman locking in their trademark submissions on their opponents, only to have them broken up by their opponents... it was breathtaking. But in the end it was a miscue between LeBlanc and Carmazzi -- who had hitherto worked together like a well-oiled machine, almost running the match like a four-on-one handicap match against Nolan Dorado -- that brought things to a head. LeBlanc accidentally struck Carmazzi with a steel chair, allowing Mark Coleman to take him out with a Southern Cross Bomb and pick up the pinfall. If LeBlanc and Carmazzi had been all set to work together at Wild Summer Night to take out Dorado in that No Escape Cage Match... let's just say that things may be a little different now. [Cut to footage captioned "LAST THURSDAY" showing Madrock the Irrepressible and David Cross squaring off against Christian Right, though there is no sign of Right's partner, Danny Daniels... and as Madrock and Right battle it out in the ring, Danny Daniels emerges from under the ring, getting up to his corner and waving to Madrock, who is visibly enraged... Madrock is so determined to get at Daniels that he knocks down his own partner, allowing Right to latch onto the felled Cross with a rear chinlock, while Daniels hops down to the arena floor and waves up at Madrock... Daniels tags himself in, and continues to beat on Cross... Daniels drops Cross with a bulldog, then marches over to Madrock's corner and nails him with his right fist... Daniels drags Cross back to his own corner and tags Right back in... Cross gets the upper hand on Right, but refuses to tag Madrock in, unhappy about their earlier collision... Eventually, Cross tags in Madrock just as Right tags in Daniels -- and Daniels can't get out of there fast enough, running around the ring with Madrock in hot pursuit, Daniels bolting for the exit with Madrock coming up behind him... in the ring, Cross takes Right down to the mat hard with a superplex... Cross hits a chokeslam on Right -- but Nathan Herod storms the ring, and hits Cross with the Herod Dynasty Devastator...] DD: At the top of RAMPAGE last week we learned that Nathan Herod's wily manager, Mick Silvestri, had managed to get David Cross's match with Christian Right turned into a three-way match including his charge -- and not only that, managed to make it a Handicap Match, with Right and Herod teaming up against David Cross! "The Fallen Angel" therefore had a lot on his mind as he found himself tagging up with the unpredictable Madrock the Irrepressible against Christian Right and "Your Hero" Danny Daniels. Daniels was out to bait Madrock to distraction, and it worked, Madrock barrelling into his own partner early in the match, desperate to get his hands on the man so nice they named him twice. Madrock and Daniels ended up brawling away from ringside -- which allowed Nathan Herod to make his presence felt, running down to the ring and hitting Cross with the HDD, forcing the official to throw the match out, but sending a clear message to "The Fallen Angel." [...Meanwhile, backstage Daniels and Madrock fight through the lobby, Daniels blowing his nose on a fan's "Grinning Wallaby" bandana, then wiping it in Madrock's face and trying to stuff it into his mouth... Daniels climbs up onto a nearby concession stand, gives a thumbs up to the assembled fans... then twists his thumbs downwards, and launches himself off the stand onto Madrock with a diving headbutt! Both men are motionless as we cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: And things between Madrock and Daniels came to a shocking head when the two men brawled their way all the way out into the lobby, where Daniels hit his TOODLES~! diving headbutt onto Madrock from the top of the concession stand. Both men were left lying motionless, but amazingly they both escaped serious injury. They meet again in ten days at Wild Summer Night, in a match that could be just as crazy as this brawl ended up: it'll be Falls Count Anywhere! [Cut to footage captioned "LAST THURSDAY" showing Derek Rage teaming up with Liam Cassidy to face Dave Bryant and Ryan Faith, who charge the ring and knock both Rage and Cassidy back on their heels! Cassidy and Faith tumble from the ring as Rage and Bryant go at it in the ring... Cassidy rolls back into the ring and attacks Bryant, then looks confused as match official Pat Nickrick forces him to leave the ring... Rage eventually tries to tag Cassidy in, and Cassidy thinks Rage is trying to hit him, allowing Bryant to break free and plant Rage with a jumping inverted DDT!... Rage fires back, attempting a superplex, but Bryant jams a thumb in Rage's eye, and knocks him from the top rope, following up with an elbowdrop... Meanwhile, Cassidy grabs the tag rope, yanks it free, and with it in his hand, charges the ring yet again! Rage finally tags Cassidy in, and the Jersey Drifter squares off with Ryan Faith... Cassidy's inexperience shows, and he finds himself double-teamed by Bryant and Faith... Rage charges the ring, and in the confusion, Rage is sent into Pat Nickrick, knocking the official down... At that, Lord Byron leaves the announce table and goes to enter the ring, armed with his cane... Pizzazz prevents Byron from entering the ring, and Byron promptly plants a kiss on her lips! Rage is incensed and takes off after Byron, while in the ring Cassidy hits the Pikey Layover on Bryant, only for Faith to nail Cassidy with Byron's cane, pinning the Jersey Drifter! Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Rounding out RAMPAGE last Thursday night was a tag match pitting Derek Rage and Liam Cassidy against Dave Bryant and Ryan Faith, the latter duo starting to find their groove as a partnership. The same can't be said for Rage and Cassidy, however: Liam Cassidy had never wrestled in a tag team match before, and unfortunately had little understanding of the mechanics of that kind of match -- both Derek Rage and the match official had to help Liam get to grips with the fundamentals of tag team wrestling. But I have to say, my broadcast colleague Billy Shakespeare is doing good work with Liam in preparation for his big Street Fight against Lord Byron at Wild Summer Night. Cassidy is getting a good grip of the mat basics he will at least give him half a chance against the legendary technician. Speaking of Byron, what the heck was he thinking planting a kiss on Pizzazz? Derek Rage won't forget that in a hurry. And let's not forget that Rage himself will be going up against Dave Bryant at Wild Summer Night in what promises to be an intense affair. [Ditka turns to another camera, showing that an empty seat has been set next to his glass-topped desk.] DD: I have a guest in studio this evening, and he is set to go one on one at the pay per view against the man that broke his wrist just weeks ago. [Cassidy walks into the set and approaches Don. Liam is sporting newer clothing. HeÕs wearing what appear to be a brand new pair of black sweat pants with red and white stripes running down the sides. He is wearing his first piece of company merchandise, a white wifebeater undershirt with the large imprint of a fist on the front. He wears his chapped and worn black fedora hat that covers his scruffy and mangy dirty dark hair. The two shake hands.] LC: Hey lad! DD: Welcome to On The Wire, Mr. Cassidy. [The two men sit down.] DD: Sunday, July 16th is the date. RCWÕs Wild Summer Night. [The monitor behind the two men dissolves to a logo of Wild Summer Night, with the images of Byron and Cassidy plastered over it.] DD: This is your first big match, live on pay-per-view. Are you at all nervous? LC: Nah. I ain't ever done anything big like RCW before, but I'm used to people wanting to watch me fight. DD: A lot of critics are saying you *should* be nervous. You're stepping into the ring, one-on-one with a man who has competed in the 1992 Olympics. A man who has coached the British Olympic wrestling team. There are even rumors that Byron is going to be knighted by the Queen herself! And here you are, no pun intended, just a guy off the street, down on his luck. LC: Woah, woah! I ain't ever said I've been down on my luck, a charity case or anything like that. I'm proud of my roots, and I've been living life my way for the past twenty years. If I didn't like it, I wouldn't have stayed. So let's get that clear, 'kay? I'm just like any other lad, you know. I'm just a guy. Don't matter where I'm from or where I've been. DD: I'm sorry, Mr. Cassidy. [Liam smirks and fiddles around one of his pockets until he can find his handy-dandy silver flask, filled with anonymous alcoholic contents.] LC: Ah, no worries lad. Just saying is all. [Liam goes to take a big swig.] DD: Oh, uh, Mr. Cassidy, but there's no drinking in here please. [Cassidy's eyes go wide, as if to say "Are you serious?"] LC: Come again, lad? DD: Just... Let's put the flask away and talk. [He shrugs his shoulders and puts the silver flask back into his pocket from whence it came.] DD: How do you go into a match against a man with a reputation a mile wide for technical superiority inside the ring? LC: Well, first of all, this is no match. It's gonna be a fight. Whether it be in the ring, in the crowd or out in the back alley, this thing's gonna be a fight. And that's something I guess Bryon ain't so used to. Well, it works dandy for me, let me tell ya. DD: While the premise of the match is a street fight, you have had the luxury of having a wrestling legend in Billy Shakespeare assist you in the gym, training hard for this match. Do you think this has given you any kind of an advantage for your match? LC: Oh, you could say that. See, I'm not dense enough to not admit that I had no clue what I was doing in that ring. Hell, I still don't know half the rules 'em ref guys keep enforcing. But training with Billy has been a gift, a real gift. He's been showing me the ins and outs of wrasllin'. The stuff I had no way of knowing till someone pointed it out to me. [He adjusts himself in his chair.] LC: Now, I'm not sure I can do half the stuff Billy can do. Not even a quarter of it. But what I lack in expertise, I make up for in heart. And that's something Billy's been teaching me about too. I know I can't go toe-to-toe with Byron in the ring. But I got skills now. Enough to shock the hell out of that pompous windbag, that's for damn sure. DD: And you had a chance to showcase some of that skill on the last RAMPAGE in your tag match with Derek Rage, against Dave Bryant and Ryan Faith. LC: Some of it. But not all of it. I got distracted by that rat bastard Byron at ringside, and ultimately paid the price for it. But you know what? That's okay. I don't care too much about winning and losing that match because I got my sights set on Byron. I'll show him [BLEEP] he ain't ever seen before. DD: After your match, you and Byron had it out backstage until Dan Spreadbury stepped in and made the announcement that your match will be a street fight. [Liam gets a big grin.] DD: You're smiling. You're happy the match was made a street fight. LC: Damn right. DD: Why? LC: Because I've lived on the streets for most of my life. I didn't always stay at the Motel Six. There were more days than I'd like to remember where I didn't have a roof over my head unless you count the cardboard box. But I'm proud of where I've come from. Because I'd rather have that cardboard box than the silver spoon Byron's got up his ass. He's the kind of guy that's always had things come easily to him. Money. Power. He ain't ever had to really fight for a damn thing in his life, and that kind of existence ticks me right off because he didn't earn a single thing he's got. [He clenches his fist tightly.] LC: So making this match a street fight works well enough for me. I've lived the street. I've slept on the street. If anyone knows how to street fight, it's me. Byron's real good at pinning a guy's shoulders on the mat, but to me, that ain't fighting man. That's weak. I hear about all this crap he's gonna do to me. I can sum up everything I wanna do to Byron in just one second. [He holds up that fist.] LC: 'Cause that's all it takes. DD: Well, it is possible. We all know that -- because that is what started all of this bad blood between you and his Lordship. It was the Sixty Second Challenge between you and Byron on the May 18th edition of Rampage. [Footage captioned "RAMPAGE, 18 May" plays on the monitor behind Liam and Don. We see Byron attempting to tie up Liam, but Cassidy ducks under it, going behind Byron.] DD: This is it here, at the ten second mark. Let me pause this, just for a moment. [Don hits pause on a controller he has.] DD: Now, what is going through your mind here? You only have ten seconds left in the match, and if you last those ten seconds, you would be the winner. What stopped you from taking a walk, or trying to slow down the pace against Byron? LC: Well, that's just not how I do things, y'know? When you step in the ring with me, it's on one hundred percent of the time. I don't run and hide from people, especially arseholes like Byron. I stand and fight. Now right here I was thinking the guy's a fool for opening up his side like that. So I ducked under and went behind him and as soon as the back of his greasy head, I knew he was gonna eat my hook when he turned around. DD: And indeed it did happen, as we all saw. [Don nods and unpauses the clip... Byron spins around, dumb-founded that Cassidy slipped away from him. And it's here that Liam drives his right fist square into the jaw of the legendary grappler, knocking him straight down to the mat.] DD: [on the tape] OH MY! Cassidy just *nailed* Byron with a vicious right hook! And Byron is down! Byron is down! BS: [on the tape] Pin him, Liam! Pin him! [Byron goes down like he's shot under the force of Cassidy's vicious punch to the jaw, and Cassidy drops onto him, Bright dropping to make the count... 1... 2... ...3! There is a moment of stunned silence until the bell rings. Upon hearing the bell, the crowd explodes. Don pauses the clip and turns back to Liam as the screen fades back to the Byron vs. Cassidy graphic. Liam is wearing a big smirk on his face.] DD: What was going through your mind then, Liam? Were you surprised? LC: Hell, no. Happy, yeah. But not surprised. I warned Byron what would happen if he pushed it. Well he did, and he paid a price. DD: A price which was eventually paid back in full after Byron's vicious assault on that right arm of yours. I have to ask you Liam. How is the wrist doing? LC: Could be better. Could be worse, ya know? [Liam looks down at it and shakes it out.] LC: It feels good. Well enough to knock out Byron, that's for damn sure. DD: And you will have your chance against Byron at RCW Wild Summer Night this Sunday at the Rose Garden live on pay per view. This is your first time competing on pay-per-view. Are you at all nervous? LC: Nah. I like competing in front of these crowds. I'm used to boxin' in front of very small crowds that were mostly made up men like myself. It's felt good having all those people cheering me on since I got here. That's still something I ain't used to, but I like it. DD: There's no denying the RCW fans have taken a particular liking to you, especially those in section D-12. I believe they call themselves the Hobo Section. [Cassidy gets a big toothy grin when thinking about those wild fans.] LC: Where's my hobos at? Ha ha. Yeah, I get a right kick out of them lads. Let me tell you, they're a crazy bunch too. I took Ôem all out to the Arm Bar one night after a show... I thought *I* was a wild and crazy guy, but those lads got me beat. They're my fans, and I love Ôem. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for those guys. DD: Well, I think nothing would please them more than seeing you come out victorious from your Street Fight with Byron a week on Sunday. Liam, thank you for joining me here in the studio. Thank you for not drinking -- for a few minutes, at any rate. And good luck in your match with Byron. LC: Thank you kindly, Don, but I don't need luck. I just need the opportunity. But thanks anyway lad. God bless and such. Remember... Just one second. [Liam flashes that toothy grin again as he holds up his index finger and mouths the word "Byron" to the camera. The two shake hands before Cassidy leaves the set, and Don turns back to the main camera.] DD: That was Liam Cassidy, ladies and gentlemen, the first hobo of wrestling. When we come back, we'll run down the complete card for Wild Summer Night, and tell you how you can be a part of the action! We'll be right back! [Fade to commercials.] [Fade back from commercials.] ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / >< >< >< WILD SUMMER NIGHT PREVIEW >< >< >< >< /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Ditka is still seated behind the glass-topped desk, the Wild Summer Night logo on the screen behind him.] DD: Welcome back to On The Wire, folks! We are now just ten days away from RCW's first-ever pay-per-view, coming your way on the night of Sunday, July 16, *live* from the Rose Garden in beautiful Portland, Oregon. This event has been sold out for weeks, so the only way you can be a part of it is to contact your local cable operator for ordering information -- and with no fewer than nine blockbuster matches coming your way, it's going to be one heck of a show. Let's run down the card. [A graphic of Derek Rage, with Pizzazz standing behind him, and Dave Bryant, with Glory standing behind him, appears.] DD: It's one of the greatest tag team champions of all time going solo, up against a former world champion: Derek Rage does battle with Dave Bryant in singles competition. And behind every good man is a great woman -- something which has definitely proven to be the case so far for these two competitors in RCW. Each man currently holds a victory over the other, and Bryant is still steaming over the manner of Rage's victory over him -- just don't talk about the fish. Let's hear from the Intelligent Thug now: [Derek Rage paces outside his dressing room door. The giant of the RCW is furious. Pizzazz is at his side, trying to calm him down but to no avail.] DR: You know you're the big time when people try to use you as a stepping stone to relaunch your career. I mean, the calibre of your enemies gives you the measure of your worth. I know I'm sick. I know I'm worth a lot. Not only does Dave Bryant want a piece of me, but now Lord Byron does, too? What, they want to take down the biggest dog in the yard to prove to people that they really aren't irrelevant and over-the-hill? [Derek's face twists into a sneer.] DR: Take Dave Bryant, first. He tried to come into the RCW showing that he was the cocky, smart ass. He was the guy supposed to be so slick. He supposed to know all the tricks. Hell, he got over on me in the battle royal. But what happened since then? I punked him. Period. Beat him with a frozen flounder. Do real soldiers go out like that? Then you saw his true colours. He was sputtering and angry, spouting all kinds of racial rhetoric and looking straight ass. At Wild Summer Night I know he's trying to avenge that humiliation. I mean, he's probably cooking up some scheme with ol' Glory there and stashing a frozen flounder somewhere on her body. Is she that frigid, Dave? Can she keep a fish cold that long? [Derek shakes his head in shame.] DR: Well, let's hope she can, because she's going to need that to hold it to your bloody, swollen head. I've been tired of you, Dave, since we had that press conference. I won't lie. I've been very tired of you. And now I'm going to hurt you. And that brings me to the second jackass that wants to make a name off me. Lord Byron, how bad do you have to get it to understand that I ain't the one to play with? You think it's cool to kiss up on Pizzazz? P: Cheri, c'etait rien. C'est pas important. DR: Oh but it is important. He wasn't some drunken idiot at a club trying to get farther than he ever thought possible. No, Lord Byron did that to send me a message. He wants a shot at me. Well, the thing is all he had to do was ask. But now he tried to get noticed. He's going to learn the hard way that his lack of humility will cost him. He doesn't think that I know about the Aristoclutch? He doesn't think I'm a better wrestler than Dirt Dog? I can beat that man in my sleep. Now, I just want to beat that man. Byron, watch what happens to your predecessor, Bryant. See, even your names sound the same. Both y'all gonna get hurt out there. I promise you that until you learn that you don't mess with Derek Rage. Now fade to black. [Fade to black -- and then cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: More than pride is at stake here: a victory for either man will do a lot for his hopes of propelling himself into contention for the big belt. Who will prevail? We'll find out! [The graphic spins, showing Ryan Faith and Dinah on one side, and "Showtime" Rick Marley on the other.] DD: Ryan Faith is one of the true young lions of RCW. Faith stalled at first, suffering the loss of a family member, but once he met Dinah, he came back strong, aligning himself with RCW Champion Johnny Pleasence, and Dave Bryant, and he's been on a heck of a roll ever since. Rick Marley, by contrast, is a tremendous young cruiserweight with almost unlimited potential -- but is he ready to test his faith? This one's sure to be hard-hitting, high-flying and high-tempo. Let's hear from Faith now. [Cut to Dinah and Ryan Faith. 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 tube top and really, really tight ass jeans.. god I love women... I mean... anyhow.. Ryan stands there, continuously flipping his shaggy, brown hair out of his face. Dinah leans over and whispers a few things to Ryan before he turns his attention to the camera.] RF: So where are you Marley? Are you hiding? Have you finally come to your senses and realized that you have gotten in way over your head? [Pauses as if awaiting a response] RF: You see, while you're hiding somewhere hoping that I don't find you, I'm still on a rampage of epic proportions. And each week, momentum builds on my side. Driscoll was lucky to walk away with a win against me. Coleman couldn't beat me. Madrock couldn't. Hell, they've been lined up and I've knocked them down. What makes you think that you are any different than any of the other wrestlers in this federation? Is it because you've got a catchy nickname? [Ryan smirks] RF: Since I've made my "comeback" to the RCW, no one has been able to stop me, Rick. What makes you any different? I can stand here all day and ask the questions because I know that you truly don't have the answers to them. I ask them because I'm not so bad a person that I'm not going to give you a hint. I'm going to give you a clue about me. Don't underestimate me. Don't think I'm some loud mouth kid who isn't here to win or to dominate. I'm not the kid of competitor or man that you used to being in the ring with. Maybe... [Ryan starts shaking his finger at the camera.] RF: Maybe you do know what you're up against. Maybe you're locked up in some dirty ol' gym and you're working day and night. Training ever so hard, so that you can come into our match and so that you can take a step up in the RCW. Train so hard so that you can steal a match from under the nose of the young lion. I must admit, those are big plans, Rick. Hell, I might even be proud of you. But I'm not. Because I know in our business, in our reality... there are men like you and there are men like me. And that maybe, there's a reason why the forces that be have set us against each other at Wild Summer Night. Maybe after the ppv, I'll be the one with the new catchy nickname... maybe they'll call me the "Exterminator" after ridding the RCW of the vermin. Maybe they'll call me "The Truth" because inevitably like the truth... you can't avoid me. Career Killer? [Ryan just shakes his head] RF: I don't need a flashy name or a flashy gimmick, "Showtime." My actions speak for themselves. My fists do all the talking. I haven't stepped down from any challenge here yet and I'm not about to start taking crap from two bit hack wrestlers. This isn't a game anymore. This isn't some bush league you're used to running around with where the competition is about as fierce as a stuffed animal. I sincerely hope that you've thought this out well. And that you've spent your time, preparing mentally and physically for what you about to embark on. There is no more time for games, no more time for foolish bravado. You promise to knock my teeth in, Rick. You going to able to live up to that promise? You going to be able to live up to that nickname of yours? Can you live up to those lofty expectations that you have stupidly placed for yourself? These must all be thoughts going around in your head. You must be overwhelmed with exuberance. You must be thinking to yourself that this may be your chance to carve out a name for yourself at _MY_ expense. [Ryan just chuckles as Dinah interjects.] D: If you do think that, Rick... then you have something coming to you. I won't allow Ryan to lose to the chumps like you. It's not his purpose to be a stepping stone for someone who should be out selling hot dogs in the concession stands. I don't ride alongside some jackass. I ride with a stallion. RF: And you Marley... you're going to get trampled by the stallion. Hell, you'll think a whole a stampede of wild mustangs was unleashed on you. And then and only then... we'll see who is the man who deserves to be called "Showtime." And we'll also see one other thing.. [Ryan smiles.] RF: Are you ready to test your faith? [Cut back to the studio. The graphic on the screen behind Ditka spins once more, the words "HANDICAP MATCH" flashing onto the screen, revealing the lone figure of "The Fallen Angel" David Cross pitted against Nathan Herod and Christian Right.] DD: It promises to be a battle of Biblical proportions as the zealot Christian Right teams up with Alabama rookie Nathan Herod against the veteran giant from Corry, Pennsylvania, "The Fallen Angel" David Cross. Until last week, this match was scheduled to see Cross and Right go one-on-one -- after Right attacked him with a loaded Bible, of all things, and stole not only a victory over him, but also the precious silver cross he wears around his neck -- but Herod's wily manager Mick Silvestri was able to inveigle his man Herod into the match. Not only that, but he made it a Handicap Match! Let's hear from Nathan Herod and Christian Right as they each prepare for this encounter. [Cut to backstage at the Rose Garden. A caption appears at the bottom of the screen reading "DURING RAMPAGE, LAST THURSDAY". Mick Silvestri, clutching the clipboard with the signed contract for the handicap match tightly to his chest, is smiling at the camera. The British manager oozes smugness and satisfaction.] MS: What a night it was, right? In a few years, when RCW releases "Mick Silvestri - Manager of Champions and Champion of Managers", my coup tonight will probably be a part of the early highlight reel. Did you see how that big, dumb oaf did just what I wanted him to do? Sign his own death sentence? [Mick waves the clipboard at the camera.] MS: It took some maneuvering. The right words needed to be said in the right ears and the esteemed Christian Right had to be persuaded to play a part in this as well but I did it. NH: You did what? [We zoom out to reveal Nathan Herod, wearing urban camo pants and a matching tank top, walking up beside Silvestri.] MS: Didn't you watch, Nate? The contract... I got it signed... right here. [Herod just stares at his manager with a furrowed brow.] MS: We talked about this. _I_ got you a spot on the PPV. Wild Summer Night! [The puzzled expression remains on Herod's face.] NH: You did, huh? I get t'bash that ape's face in on the big stage? Ah thought there were no room left. MS: I fixed it, Nate. You get to team up with Christian Right and take on a lone David Cross. It will be a massacre. NH: Team up? You mean... together wit' the nutty preacher? Last RAMPAGE ah was supposed to tear him limb from limb and ah would've if not for Cross. Now ah shall actually share mah victim wit' him? Uh-uh. [He shakes his head. Silvestri reaches out to clap him on the back, stops himself though when he sees anger rising in Herod's face.] MS: Listen to me. This is most important, alright? So far, our adventures here in RCW have been... middling. You have impressed the right people, Nate, but we are still lacking the results and the cash that goes along with it. I present you David Cross' head on a silver platter. You have told me numerous times in the last two weeks how much you want to face him. NH: Face him? I wanna turn his _face_ into a bloody pulp. I wanna pulverize each and every bone in his oversized body and take a crap on the pile of [BLEEP] that remains. I wanna-- MS: I get the picture. And I will deliver you just that. Only Christian Right will be there as well. To assist you. To get some shots in himself. It will be just more torture for Cross and a guaranteed victory for us. [Herod stares at him, expressionless.] MS: Believe me, this plan is foolproof. And as a sign of good faith to Mister Right maybe you could give David Cross a preview of the pain he is in for, yes? [We spin-cut to a black screen, red text scrolling over it as we hear a familiar booming voice-over:] 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. [Christian is seen standing in the middle of a dark room with only light on him.] CR: Hello all, may you serve the lord and may his eternal glory light up your miserable and dismal lives. Wild Summer Night. Look at that, right in the title, implying sin. Wild. All these wrestlers running wild, it's a shame and a travesty that we allow this pay-per-view to exist. Pay-per-view, please, I'm urging you now pull this pay-per-view. Please, you can easily show an educational documentary on the amoeba instead. Anything besides this trash that corrupts and destroys men. But at this Wild Summer Night I have my own challenge. I'm going to show that sinner David Cross the love of God and show him how the lord died for his sins yet he continues to blow him off and continues to partake in sin. Well, if I have to... [Suddenly the screen gets fuzzy and snowy. Then a flash of red. The following words scroll across the screen in black letters against the red background:] VOICE: THE PRECEDING MESSAGE WAS PAID FOR BY CHRISTIAN RIGHT AND IS NOW OVER. [We then hear an evil laugh close out the promo, and we cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Both Cross and Herod have yet to pick up singles wins in RCW, and you can be sure that they will be putting it all on the line in this match. [The graphic on the screen behind Ditka spins again, the words "FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE" flashing onto the screen, revealing the smiling face of "Your Hero" Danny Daniels and the roaring visage of Madrock the Irrepressible.] DD: It started as a tiff concerning t-shirts and bandanas, but boy, did it get personal in a hurry! Danny Daniels had the first hot, must-buy merchandise in RCW, the now-legendary "YOUR HERO" t-shirt. Madrock the Irrepressible wanted in on the action, introducing the "Grinning Wallaby" bandana. Both men jostled for merchandising supremacy, resorting to stealing each other's product, but when Daniels challenged Madrock to an arm-wrestling match, we couldn't have predicted what happened next. Daniels brutalised Madrock, sending the antagonistic Antipodean on a rampage that has yet to end. Daniels and Madrock are on one heck of a collision course, and they're going to collide at Wild Summer Night in a Falls Count Anywhere match. It's going to be quite something. Let's hear from both combatants, starting with the monster from Almunster, Madrock the Irrepressible. [Deep inside the stronghold of RCW headquarters, in the darkest reaches of its underground sub-basements; war-drums echo within the walls, resonating in a dull thumping noise across the entire edifice. Our broadcast begins in the RCW offices, where various administrative workers and paper pushers look at each other with concerned looks as to the origin of the disturbing noise. None volunteer to investigate, but the task soon falls upon the youngest intern, TV show regular Jamie Bond. Resolved to his fate, he makes his last goodbyes and embarks on his perilous journey accompanied by a camera crew so as to record the cause of this disturbance.] *THUMP* *THUMP* *THUMP* *THUMP* [As Jamie Bond and co. make their way downwards, sounds from the war drums become intensified, beating faster, beating louder! Slowly they approach a room that had been sealed off from the rest. The beats emanates from therein. They cross past the seal. They open the door. They witness a vision of horror. Blood caked on his face, evil snear across split lips: no need to reveal his name. Furiously punching away at a sandbag, powerful blows swing the heavy punching bag across the room, crashing against the walls, causing the terrifying beat!] M: DAAAAAAAAAAAANIELS!!!!!!! [Camera turns to Jamie Bond as he stands transfixed, unable to move. Madrock spots the new arrivals, Jamie Bond turns a lily white. The great monster holds up his hands and stops the punching bag's swing. He turns to the crew, Jamie Bond has nowhere to run. Madrock shoves him into a corner. Jamie Bond is shocked, he stammers unwittingly some more, looking for words, searching for his senses. Madrock snarls like a beast, yelling:] M: I DON' WANNA 'EAR ABOUT IT!!! [Jamie Bond clams up.] M: Wot'ever the hell it was you wuz gon' to say. I'z Madrock, s'all that matters. Bane uv' Brisbane, monster from Almunster and all that jazz. I split rocks, silence those who squawks cuz I'm strong as an ox and the toughest thing that walks. I'm mad Jamie, I didn't think you could make me madder then before I went out there, but Daniels, he made it happen somehow: DANNELS, YOU MADE IT HAPPEN!!! [Cameras are still rolling. Nobody DARES help Jamie out, but gosh-darned will we have a great video shoot. Speaking of which, Madrock's beard is an odd rust tinted black. Blood dried on the hair and won't come out. It's quite unsettling to the young interviewer, as his face is pressed right next to it. Worse yet, Madrock is getting increasingly... unsettled.] M: But you can't beat the Madrock, nobody can! Nobody wanted a Madrock aboard, but nobody can do anything about it cuz nobody can beat me! Fight me and you only make me angry! Smash me and I only come back stronger! Kill me... Kill me I'm dead. Don't count as beat. [Madrock stares off in the distance. Finally Jamie Bond escapes. Still, no one dares disturb the beast. The mad beast seems to be lost in thought, recollecting what has happened in the past.] M: When I look at the mirror nowadays, I don't reco'nize the face starin' back at me. After Wild Summer Night, I'm afraid... I'm afraid I won't reco'nize the man starin' back at me. Fight for your life Dannels. They broke ever'thing that made me Me, cracked my skull and broke my heart. What you're left with is a mean fighting monster: WAR ragin' 'cross the land. Fight for your life Dannels. I dunno what I'm gonna do, wot's gon' happen next, but lives are gon' be in my hands... Those hands only know how to crush. [Pause.] M: Fight for your life. [We spin-cut to seeing "Your Hero" Danny Daniels. Daniels is wearing his usual attire: wraparound sunglasses, a "YOUR HERO" yellow t-shirt, and wrestling trunks. This time, there's a cast on BOTH of his arms -- but only on the upper forearm, allowing him free movement. He's standing in front of an easel. On the easel is a picture of Madrock the Irrepressible, his face contorted in the middle of a bellowing roar. Daniels is carrying a laser pointer, and is pointing it right on Madrock's nose.] D'YH'D: GREETINGS AND SALUTATIONS! I'm "Your Hero" Danny Daniels, a man so nice they named me twice. Today, I'm here to warn each and every person watching this show about a danger to our society. A man who wreaks havoc everywhere he goes. A man who, in fact, is evil personified. IÕm talking about... [He waves the laser poitner around Madrock's face.] D'YH'D: Morlock the Inevitable! Morlock is six foot eight inches tall and weighs four hundred and ninety pounds. He's got black hair, black eyes, and smells like an open sewer line. You can hear him yelling from three miles away. This evil Amsterdamian... [Danny pauses, then turns to face the camera.] D'YH'D: I'm not trying to stereotype here, but isn't it strange that all Amsterdamians weigh over four hundred pounds, smell bad, and have a tendency to commit crimes? [Shrugging, Danny turns back to the easel.] D'YH'D: Morlock's crimes include assault and battery, copyright infringement, theft of rare and valuable property, and abuse of language. He's wanted in three states, and the other forty-five don't want him anywhere near them. And worst of all, he destroyed one of the last rare first edition mint condition "YOUR HERO" shirts! [DannyÕs voice starts to rise.] D'YH'D: How DARE you, Morlock? You come from Amsterdam, illegally I might add, to RCW and immediately do nothing but yell and scream. You decide to imitate... ME! "Your Hero", Danny Daniels. And I don't blame you for that. So you come up with this scheme of using cheap cloth -- made by child labor in Saskatchewan, I might add -- into triangles and putting a picture of a wallarus on them, trying to hone in on MY shirts! And when that failed, because no one wants to wear a triangle, you try to eliminate the competition -- first by attacking my shirts, then by attacking... ME! [He holds up the casts in front of the camera.] D'YH'D: Look what you tried to do! [Danny shakes his head] D'YH'D: You fought the Law, Morlock. And the Law didn't win. But I will. That's right... ME! "Your Hero", Danny Daniels, will defeat Morlock the Inevitable and make RCW safe again. Safe for wrestlers, safe for fans, and safe for fine apparel. [Danny knocks the picture of Madrock off the easel, then stomps on it twice before facing the camera.] D'YH'D: TOODLES~! [Cut back to the studio, where the graphic on the monitor behind Ditka spins again, this time the words "SUBMISSION MATCH" flashing onto the screen, before revealing the faces of Mark Coleman and Akitoshi Ogawa.] DD: We all remember how Akitoshi Ogawa exploded into RCW, jumping Mark Coleman in a match against Ryan Faith, attacking him and leaving him on the shelf for several weeks with a throat injury. Ogawa is a former King of the Deathmatch and a submission specialist, and he has the backing of manager Zeke Brackett to boot. Coleman, on the other hand, is becoming increasingly popular with the RCW fans, and has held his own in the ring against the top competitors RCW has to offer. He'll gladly tell you that he has nothing to fear going into this match. With both men possessing deadly submission holds in their arsenals -- Ogawa's Blackout and Coleman's Tennessee Valley Lock -- this could be very evenly-matched. Let's hear from Mark Coleman now. [The camera opens in a motel room. The room's curtains are open, letting sunlight into the room. The twin beds are made, the quilts tucked in at the corners, and the furniture is clean, free of clutter. The only outstanding thing in the room are the two suitcases that lay on the bed...and Mark Coleman, who is packing them. The big man from Tennessee puts various items into the suitcases... sweatpants... socks... a couple of Portland knick-knacks... as he begins to speak.] MC: Time to pack up. Been here in this Motel 6 since March, when this whole thing was just gettin' off the ground. Figured, wrestling bein' what it is, you never knew what the shelf life of a fed is. Better to stick it out and pay weekly for a room then shell out for an apartment if you don't know how long you're gonna be in town. Well, think it's safe to say, gonna have a job with Rip City Wrestling for a good long time. So bye-bye Motel 6, and howdy to a new apartment. That's down the road, though. Right now, packin' up and headin' back to Memphis for a few days. Got to clear my head, get my thoughts in order, and focus on what's comin' up. Wild Summer Night's not too far off. Finally gonna get my hands on Akitoshi Ogawa. [Coleman stands up from the bags, and at the mention of his opponent's name, he turns to face the camera straight on, wearing a black baseball hat, a pair of blue jeans, and a plain blue t-shirt.] MC: Your little weasel of a manager, Akitoshi, said you had headed back to Japan before the last Rampage. He said you were clearing your head and focusing. Now, don't much agree with you... or him... on anything. But I'll admit, it ain't a bad idea. And I'm blatantly ripping you off, because I'm going home to prepare for my match with you. A match, you could say, that's the biggest of my career so far, because it's my first Pay-Per-View match ever. You, me, and the entire world looking on. Have to admit, it's overwhelming. You've been there before, though. 12 year veteren, Ogawa. You've been around, you've been in the big venues. Sydney. Tokyo. Seoul. Yeah, I've done my research, and you ain't some flash in the pan, Ogawa. Freely admitted from my own lips, that fact. So when it comes to the big matches, the crowd making noise, it's nothing to you. It's a bit intimidating to me. But flip that around, Ogawa. Ignore the crowd for a moment. Look at this. [Coleman thumps his chest with his hand.] MC: Right here, Ogawa. This is what's across the ring from you. 6'4, 251 pounds of Tennessee power. This is what you're going to be taking on, Ogawa, in two weeks or so. This, right here, is what you're going to be trying to make quit. And here's the thing. The atmosphere, the electricity, the emotion surrounding this match... it's something I don't know how to handle yet. But you, I know I can take on. I know I can beat you. I know I can make you slap the match and tap out. You, though? I know you don't know the same thing about me. I can see it in your eyes, Ogawa. I can see it in your actions, in those words your lapdog Zeke Brackett is always spouting. I can see it in how you're always attacking me from behind, when I don't expect you, when I'm not ready. I know why you do that, I know why you're not man enough to stand in the middle of the ring and face me one-on-one. You know, deep inside, you can't beat me. You can't beat me, Ogawa. It's that simple. That's why you act like you do, that's why you jumped me last week after we won our match. You talk a big game, Ogawa... well, not quite... awwww, you know what I mean. You act tough. You pretend you're the big thing. But I can see it in your eyes, Ogawa. When I stare at you, I know... you don't know how to beat me. You know you can't make me give up. After all you've put me through, after all your attacks, after everything has been said and all that's left is the match itself... you know you don't know what to do. But I know. I know, Akitoshi Ogawa, how to beat you. I haven't just watched your tapes, no. I studied your weakness. And it's painfully, glaringly obvious to anyone who watches, how you can be beaten. And a submission match... a submission match. In most cases, people would be worried. Akitoshi Ogawa, the King of the Deathmatch, and rookie Mark Coleman in a submission match. Yeah, some people would tend to bet against me. Some people would think I wouldn't have a chance in Hell. Write Coleman off, and move on to the next match. But you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. Ogawa, you've attempted to make my life torture ever since you arrived here in RCW. You thought you could make a name for yourself, and maybe you have. But that will all come to a crashing halt come Wild Summer Night when you finally have to find the courage, the guts, the balls to step into the ring and stand across from me, waiting for that belt to go off. Because I have to ask you this, Akitoshi. Do you have the anger? Do you have the drive? Because I have about three months of angression and frustration that I am looking forward to taking out on you at Wild Summer Night. I've wanted nothing more then to finally get my hands on you and teach you a lesson, and now that I'm finally getting my chance, you think I'm going to hold anything back? Go in with anything less then 100%? Step into that ring with nothing but every single fiber of being ready and itching to pound you into oblivion, causing you to scramble out of the ring and clutch at Brackett's leg, looking up at him and saying... ...well, how DO you say "I need a hug" in Japanese? A submission match doesn't worry me, Ogawa. You've felt the Tennessee Valley Lock. You know what I'm capable of doing. I'm going in with no fear of you. No concern about you. I just know I'm going to pay you back for every single thing you've done to me. And believe me... ...this Southern boy is looking forward to it. I gotta a plane to catch... see you in a few days, Akitoshi. [Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Will Ogawa's veteran experience and outside interference tell? Or will Coleman overcome the odds to record the biggest win of his young career? We'll find out in ten days' time. [The graphic on the screen spins once more, the words "STREET FIGHT" slamming onto the screen before parting to reveal the faces of "Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy and Lord Byron.] DD: It started as a move from RCW's marketing department to grow brand recognition nationally: Byron was engaged to come in and make some announcements about Wild Summer Night, get some coverage on network affiliates, promote the pay-per-view to a national audience. He was supposed to be around for one night only -- but when he literally bumped into Liam Cassidy backstage, everything changed. Byron ended up challenging Cassidy to a match, promising he could beat him in 60 seconds. Of course, Cassidy scored that knockout punch with seconds to spare, and the rest is history. Byron was compelled to sign a standard RCW contract in order to get a rematch to avenge the loss -- and avenge it he did, breaking Cassidy's lethal right hand in the process. Now the two men are set to meet one final time in a Street Fight at Wild Summer Night, and it's an intriguing match. On the one hand, Byron has *never* competed in a match with these stipulations in his entire career, which means you've got to think that Cassidy will have the advantage. On the other, Byron is one of the greatest technicians this sport has ever seen, and he's capable of tying Cassidy in knots before the two of them even spill out of the squared circle. No matter how good the trainer -- and my broadcast colleague "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare is one of the best -- you can't take a man with next to no wrestling experience and train him to beat a legend of the sport in less than four weeks. But maybe... just maybe... Cassidy will surprise us all at Wild Summer Night. I know I can't wait to find out! [The graphic spins yet again, this time a wire mesh graphic slamming into view, accompanied by the words "NO ESCAPE CAGE MATCH", before the faces of "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado, Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc and Vinny Carmazzi are shown entombed behind the steel.] DD: Now here's a rivalry that has been rumbling on since the very first RCW event, four months ago. Vinny Carmazzi had "Golden Boy" Nolan Dorado locked in the Kimura Armbar in one of the Road To The Gold first round tournament matches, but as Dorado was forced to tap out, the match official was counting Paul Driscoll's pinfall on the fourth man in the four-way. Dorado demanded a rematch with Carmazzi, which Vinny won via submission, cementing Dorado's losing streak, which ended up as 0-4. Meanwhile, LeBlanc made the innocent mistake of addressing Dorado's valet Jodee Burwick as "ma'am" -- Ms. Burwick is, shall we say, sensitive about her age -- and the Lynx found himself embroiled in this situation. Dorado jumped Carmazzi before a match in which Paul Driscoll's number one contendership was up for grabs, putting Carmazzi on the shelf and costing him the opportunity to wrestle for the RCW Championship at Wild Summer Night. Burwick has by turns flirted with and attacked LeBlanc. Carmazzi was guest referee in the match when Dorado finally earned his first victory, having to suffer the indignity of raising the "Golden Boy's" arm after the match. There have been more twists and turns in this storied rivalry than in a year's worth of soap opera storylines! Let's get comments from the men participating in this match, beginning with the no-nonsense man from New Jersey, Vinny Carmazzi. [The camera fades in to a deserted Rose Garden locker room. Only a handful of lights are on, keeping the empty lockers and benches company at this hour. That is, until a man walks into view. The dark sweat stains cover most of his short sleeve t-shirt, the color red much deeper than it was before. Same goes for the black bandanna tied around his forehead. However, it is not placed low enough to cover the fresh stitches from this past Thursday night. Vinny Carmazzi has just ended another workout, excessive in both intensity and time of night. A routine that won't likely end for at least another week-and-a-half. Maybe he'll get some rest after the cage match. For now though, it's 5 AM and the look in his eyes convey only a need for revenge.] VC: Had a feeling that was gonna happen. [Carmazzi sits down on the nearest bench and starts unwrapping the sweat-soaked tape from his wrists.] VC: That LeBlanc/Burwick/Dorado thing always seemed a little weird. After a shot to the head [taps just above the scar tissue], all starting to come together. [His finger falls a bit. He's tapping the wound itself, but doesn't even flinch.] VC: Been in 2-on-1 situations before. I can handle them. Not that I was expecting LeBlanc to watch my back in there or anything. Go into the cage the same way I do every match.... [Carmazzi's brown eyes glare into the camera, unblinking.] VC: Ready to do anything to win. [Pause.] VC: No matter what the odds. [He sits up straight and goes to work on unfastening his boots.] VC: Twice the workouts. Twice the offensive planned. Twice the awareness. Two men I gotta beat. Two men that are gonna tap. [He slides one off, reaches for the other.] VC: One saying I deserved it, because I'm a "curtain jerker." Another probably saying that I got it all wrong. It was just an accident. [After getting the second boot off, he gently begins to untie the bandanna. Careful not to catch it on the stitches in his forehead.] VC: Save it, boys. I don't care. In 10 days time, I'm going to walk into the cage with all I got. Put everything on the line. Won't give up or quit until I walk out the winner. Beat the odds one more time. [He finally removes the bandana, exposing the extent of the damage from Orin's chairshot.] VC: Can't imagine not. Hell of a night if I can't. My head would just be the beginning. [Vinny stands up and looks right into the heart of the camera.] VC: But that's not gonna happen. I want to win and I want revenge next Sunday... [Carmazzi's low growl begins to escalate.] VC: WAY MORE than anything the two of you could ever want _combined_. [He takes a moment to calm himself. He's unsuccessful.] VC: I want it so bad I can taste it. Just like my blood last week. Separate or combined, there's nothing the two of you can do to stop me. No sneak attacks and no blind chairshots. [He wipes away the sweat pouring into the wound.] VC: Because this time, I'm ready for anything ya got. [He takes another step forward and stares right into the lens. His brown eyes now all that can be seen.] VC: And you can't say the same for me. [Cut to black.] [Fade in on a familiar scene: one Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc, throwing lefts and rights at a punching bag, teeth gritted in barely held back anger all the while.] OL: [not even looking at the camera] Yer infringin' on my time again... that ain't smart. [And there's a familiar sentiment as the camera holds its ground. The Lynx's eyes just narrow.] OL: No mood to talk. Not with me an' mine so close. Not about the [BLEEP] that happened on RAMPAGE or Carmazzi wailin' with the hair shirt on or that grinnin' weasel an' his two-bit tro-- [LeBlanc punctuates each noun with a stiff jab, the strength and anger behind each punch building up. However, upon reaching what should be the crescendo as he gets to talking about who one can only assume is Jodee Burwick, the Canadian grappler suddenly stops and turns.] OL: No. No, you pass on a message to Little Miz Honey[bleep]. She's got one last opportunity to leave this all alone an' set matters proper-like. But if she insists on playin' her damn charade, if she thinks she's got the balls to pull another one o' her stunts come Wild Summer Night... [A beat.] OL: ...which admittedly ain't much o' a stretch 'cause as sure as hell Goldenrod's not usin' his right now... If Miz Burwick's fixin' to make trouble, then she'll only have herself to blame for what's to come. [The Lynx smiles coldly, but it soon fades fast. He turns back to the bag and resumes his sparring.] OL: Tell ya... I'm gettin' more than a might tired with all this slander bein' tossed my way. Get pissed at me for makin' a mistake, that I'll understand. [BLEEP] happens an' I ain't too happy with it either. [A guttural snarl escapes the Lynx as he throws a hard right to the bag.] OL: Claimin' _I'M_ with that sonuvabitch Noli?! Jesus [BLEEP], you always been jumpin' at shadows, Carmazzi, or you just been suckin' down the same delusional Kool-Aid as Burwick?! [Orin steadies the bag, frustration and anger clear on his face.] OL: Martyrdom don't suit you, Carmazzi. I'm sick o' you howlin' conspiracy an' all your self-righteous claims. You wanna go cry victim again? Be my damn guest. But get between me an' mine an' I'll see to it you finally have a reason for a change. I got plenty o' rage to burn an' right now it don't matter if it's you or Dorado anymore! [He grunts and straightens up.] OL: Oh, an' speakin' o' our "Golden Boy"...just one thing, Noli, in case you think I've forgotten you in all o' this mess. You talk about gold, compare yourself to it a lot. But just one simple observation I remember growin' up with in science class. See, gold -- REAL GOLD -- is as soft as [bleep]. [The Lynx chuckles, but there's no humor in it.] OL: Maybe you got the right name after all, Noli... [LeBlanc glares at the camera.] OL: You're done now. Out. [Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Folks, emotions are running high in this one, and it will all come to a head inside a steel cage at Wild Summer Night. There will be No Escape, and only one winner. What a match it's going to be! [The graphic spins yet again, this time showing a dark backdrop over which appear the words "LIGHTS OUT MATCH". The dimly-lit faces of Owen "Truth" Curtis and "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder appear on the screen, their profiles cast in shadow.] DD: When RCW President Daniel Spreadbury invited the legendary "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder to the Rose Garden to be honoured for his contribution to wrestling in Portland, he can't have expected that his ceremony would be ruined by Owen "Truth" Curtis and his brother Eddie "Flash" Curtis, and that the Curtises would quickly turn Thunder's life into a living hell. Thunder exacted some measure of revenge on Owen Curtis when he defeated him in the ring, but the Curtis brothers made sure that Thunder didn't walk out that night, laying him out and leaving him bloodied in a pile of newspapers proclaiming his obituary, right in front of Thunder's wife, Tamara, who was in attendance. Things went from bad to worse, Curtis travelling to Arizona to reveal to Tamara Thunder that Brody allegedly had a son out of wedlock nearly twenty years ago -- and that his illegitimate son, Logan Thunder, was a wrestler like his estranged father. The Curtises persuaded RCW President Daniel Spreadbury to sign a match pitting the father-and-son combo of Brody and Logan Thunder against Owen and Eddie Curtis -- and in that match, Logan Thunder turned on his own father, attacking him and allowing the Curtises to prevail. With so much bad blood between Brody Thunder and the Curtis brothers, the RCW front office refuse to sanction another match between them, for fear of what they will do to one another. But Thunder and Curtis *will* meet at Wild Summer Night, in a Lights Out Match at the conclusion of the night's scheduled matches. Any fans who choose to stay in the arena do so at their own risk -- things are going to get wild in this one, that's for damn sure. Let's hear from Owen Curtis. [A cowboy hat is filling the screen, tilted rakishly downward to hide the face of the man wearing it.] VOICE: I love the rodeo. Funny thing about it? Those cowboys never know when it might be their very last ride. [The hat comes off and is tossed to the side, revealing the blond-covered crown of one Owen "Truth" Curtis. The setting? Owen is out at the Buckeroo grounds, home of the annual Molalla Buckeroo rodeo, about 20 miles outside Portland. He stands in front of a fence, as the stands are jammed full of rednecks to the right of him and the action is happening fast and furious behind him. He tunes it all out as he speaks.] OWEN "TRUTH" CURTIS: You gots to watch out, cowboy. You see, wrestling is rather _like_ this here rodeo. It'll chew you up and spit you out. [He chews about four times for emphasis, then spits out a pinkish substance toward the left side of the screen. He procures a pouch -- marked "Big League Chew" -- and takes another dip of shredded bubble gum.] OTC: And if you're facing a mighty set of jaws, such as these? [He grins, showing off gleaming teeth. The grin, though, turns to a scoff.] OTC: All the quicker. [He spits again.] OTC: What moron are they trying to sell this stuff to, anyway? The thing is, Brody Thunder, this business spat you out a long time ago. I could tell that the minute you marched into the Rose Garden to bask in the glow of crowd adulation. They were celebrating what you DID, not what you're DOING. And that is when you know... your time is up. Now normally, Brody, I would empathize. The reason being is that this business, honestly, chewed ME up and spit ME out. But there never was a celebration. Rather, people simply forgot. They forgot my initial dominance of this sport, which was cut short all too quickly. They forgot my spellbinding athletic talent, which was negated by an injured knee. They forgot my way with words and images and stories and ideas, for I no longer had a stage on which to display them. That's right, Brody Thunder... ALL those people in wrestling -- the people who run it, the people who watch it, the people who profit from it, and the people who analyze every last backstage revelation -- forgot all about the Truth. They forgot Owen Curtis, and I became a footnote. For a time? I was angry. Then I gradually accepted it and moved on. But that competitive spark, that desire to dominate, never died out. Even in the darkest hours of my rehabilitation, it never went completely black. And just as my knee finally started to feel human, so that I could run, and move like I could before, a rush of pure oxygen hit that spark. And that was Dan Spreadbury's announcement that he was starting Rip City Wrestling, right in my home state of Oregon. Wrestling was back in Portland, the town where I grew up watching it, and the spark of competition inside of me became a roaring fire of desire. So I trained. And I planned. And I called in sparring partners. And when the promotion began holding matches and cards, I put myself to the test of competition. And I passed. With flying colors. Then there was the night when I lost the RCW Championship, which was destined to be mine. And then there was the night when you showed up. And Brody, honestly... you might as well have showed up riding to the ring in a giant Barcolounger mounted on poles, carried by eight strapping Roman-style Dan Spreadburys. Here, I'd been showing up with my work boots on -- and you'd crashed my party in bedroom slippers, a robe, sock garters, a pipe, and an issue of "Modern Maturity" under your arm, soaking up MY cheers, in MY arena, without lifting a God damn finger in the process. And that pissed me off. Brody, I bet you're wondering why I'm at the rodeo here tonight. The reason is simple. It's because you're not. Now this is going to be hard to get through your tired old brain, but I, Owen Curtis, am more cowboy than you -- and I am going to prove that in our Lights Out match. You see, behind me, they only have the youngest and the best competitors. Yes, there are some old ones there -- old horses and old cowboys -- but when they don't do well? They get hurt. They get put out to pasture. And some of them get put to sleep. You should be so lucky, Brody. People like rodeos -- man against beast, with man triumphant. On July 13, Hot Summer Night, at the Rose Garden, the fans are going to watch as I break a man -- a man who so many thought was a beast. And not just that, but they're going to watch as I break a legend. Your will shall be broken, and if necessary, your body shall be destroyed. I didn't come this far to take any back seat to a has-been. I'm moving onward and upward, resuming the journey towards my destiny. And since you got in my way you WILL be dispatched, because you face a talent who is more determined, more skilled, smarter and just plain better. And as the last sands run out on your career, Brody, I will smile like you won't believe, because I will have finished the job that time has started, putting your once-hot career in a pine box for good. You may enter Portland in a limo, my friend, but you're leaving it in a boxcar. And THAT -- is the cold... [He pauses.] hard... [Again.] Truth. [Owen grabs the hat he set aside earlier and shoves the inside of it towards the camera, and as he does that, the images goes darker... darker... and black. Cut back to Ditka in the studio.] DD: Is Curtis right that Brody Thunder's time has passed? Or does the "Lone Wolf" still have his bite? I, for one, can't wait to find out. [The graphic spins one final time, the words "RCW CHAMPIONSHIP" scrolling across the screen to reveal the faces of Johnny Pleasence and "Pistol" Paul Driscoll.] DD: And that brings us to our official main event, folks. RCW Champion Johnny Pleasence promised a reign drenched in blood, and he has delivered on that promise in spades. The blood of three men has already stained the most coveted belt in wrestling today, including the blood of the man who has sworn to end the tyrant's reign, number one contender "Pistol" Paul Driscoll. Pleasence has surrounded himself with a formidable stable -- his valet Matilda, former world champion Dave Bryant, and young lion Ryan Faith -- but the Big Bad will put all of that aside when he goes one-on-one with Driscoll at Wild Summer Night. Driscoll, for his part, has been relentless in his pursuit of Pleasence, but isn't willing to take the shortcuts that come so naturally to the RCW Champion. But there is something very compelling about the dynamic between these two men, each like a distorted mirror image of the other. Pleasence is motivated by nothing more than hanging on to his belt at all costs, and ensuring that he is the centre of attention while he does so. Driscoll is motivated by proving his decision to step out of the shadow of his great wrestling family down in Texas is the right one, but determined to do it the right way, working for it, winning it fair and square. And yet you imagine that if you push Driscoll far enough, he could go over the edge -- and then would he and Pleasence be so different? Let's hear from these two gladiators now, beginning with the number one contender. [It is pitch dark, in the middle of night. A little light from the handy dandy camera man illuminates the picture as the sound of boots pacing on gravel comes through. Finally, the lens focuses and the form of "Pistol" Paul Driscoll, wearing black jeans, a West Texas Armadillos shirt and boots, his dirty blonde hair just beginning to grow back in. Behind him is the outline of a full service Shell gas station. He paces back and forth, hands behind his back as he speaks.] PD: This has been _the_ most frustratin' thing I ever did in m'life. Havin' to wait fer my shot at the title, fer damn near three months... knowin' that everything I'd be doin' fer the entire spring didn't mean nothin'. That's where ya got all yer shots in, Johnny. But it don't do ya any good now, does it? [Driscoll shoves his hands in his pockets and forms a slight grin.] PD: It seems like I won this shot by beatin' Jackass a lifetime ago. Hell, I can't even remember when it was. But I knew everything was a-leadin' up to Wild Summer Night, an' I wished to high hell that Wild Summer Night would get here, 'cause I knew the waitin' would be the hard part. See, I jus' don't do well when I got idle time to kill. An' aside from that little snot Carmazzi tryin' to take this shot away from me, that's all I had. Time to kill. An' that's all you had, John, 'cause you never had to defend the damn title. Idle time. How'd you fill yers? [Driscoll cocks his head and raises an eyebrow.] PD: Made ya some friends, got some cronies to watch 'at championship back o' yers, that's what ya did. Ya protected yer investment by gettin' Ryan Faith laid, an' fer that he owes ya an unending stream o' thanks. 'Long the way, Dave Bryant jumped on yer bandwagon, but I think he was gettin' laid already so I ain't sure how much he owes ya. But ya gave 'im work, an' you made 'im feel important. Bonded 'em to ya, like any good boss does. Me? I jus' kept rollin' along. Get my shot at the title, had it written down an' set in stone, an' then I jus' steamrolled through every roadblock on the way to the title. Got to tag with Brody Thunder... that was... [Driscoll shrugs.] PD: ...okay. I made a few enemies, bought an underage kid a drink at a strip club, but fer the most part I did what you did... I wasted time 'til Wild Summer Night. I got there. I got _here_. [Driscoll stomps his foot on the ground.] PD: This friggin' gas station is where I shot the five minute promo I sent to RCW in the first place, back when Spreadbury was given anybody an' ever'one a chance. I'm comfortable here. I worked at this damn place back when I was in school, 'fore Pop took me in to the biz. An' ya know what ya learn from workin' at a gas station, pumpin' gas fer people an' ringin' 'em up? Everyone's got a song to sing. Pumpin' gas is like bein' a bartender, 'cept ya ain't servin' liqour. People give ya money fer some go-go juice, an' they think ya wanna hear 'em bitch. An' it seemed like every other sumbitch who came through was singin' a song. Bad day at work, car won't start, kids're a pain, don't like his wife, don't like his girlfriend, his wife don't like his girlfriend, everybody's got a bitch to pitch. We all know yer story by now, Johnny, 'cause ya won't let us ferget it. Yer the spoiled little bastard who finally got his way, but dunno what to do about it now 'at yer at the top. Got no one to bitch about, no one to blame, yer bored. Stagnant. Life ain't so easy at the top, is it? An' I've seen what ya've been doin', provin' yerself as somethin' more'n a little baby, tryin' to carve yer mark in history, a "champion on a river o' blood." But I heard that story before, Johnny. I heard 'em all. [Paul just shakes his head, walking back and forth.] PD: Yer crackin' under the pressure o' bein' the lead dog an' you know damn well that at Wild Summer Night I will stop at nothin' and by God I mean nothin' to take that title off yer shoulder. You know jus' like I do that while you was trying to make a stir for yourself, while you was buildin' yer army an' yappin' about no respect, that I was jus' waitin' patiently fer _this_ day to come. Wild Summer Night's been a long way comin', I've been sittin' like a jackass twiddling my thumbs fer too long, just watchin' the minutes an' seconds pass by, because none o' the bulls[BLEEP!] I was put through mattered. Nothing with Carmazzi, nothin' with Coleman or Thunder, that was just passin' the time until I got my chance at you. Well that time is over, it's time fer action. No more talkin', no more posturin' fer position, no more time a-wastin'. People have been beggin' me, askin' me, "What's yer issue with johnny Pleasance? Don't ya like him, did he do somethin' to ya, what's the issue?" Do I like him? Jesus Lord no. Do I respect him? Grudgingly, yes. Did he do something to me? Sicc'ed his punks on me, cracked me open with the belt. But here's the issue. He's got the belt, I want it. He's the best, I want to be it. The scare tactics didn't work, I'm walkin' in with my eyes open and my fists ready. You've got that belt, Johnny Pleasence, yer the top guy in RCW but boy oh boy, is that gonna change. I've been waitin' three months to get you in the ring, an' the time is coming. You, me an' that belt in between us? [Driscoll looks dead into the camera.] PD: Yer lookin' at hard times, boy. [As Driscoll continues to stare into the camera, we spin-cut to a thoughtful, yet alarming shot: namely, the RCW Champion, Johnny Pleasence, as he sits idly ashing a cigarette in a well-decorated hotel room. You know, nice furniture and all that. Pleasence, dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt, sits with his best girl Matilda Agutter, as the two of them seem to be in the middle of an old fashioned... ..."heart to heart". Aww.] JP: ...been a bit of a bugger, I have. [Pleasence takes a drag off his cigarette.] JP: Been playin' this image up too much... wearin' my greatness on my sleeve and all that... when, ducks, the fact of the matter is? I didn't have to go about it like this. [Matilda cocks her head.] MA: What's my Johnny saying? Is his heart growing three sizes too tall? [Pleasence chuckles.] JP: No, pet... what I'm saying is... [Pleasence leans in close.] JP: I've been lying to myself. Showin' a different side of me than I know I got... showin' them something _expected_. People see me, and they see some cheatin', cocky, stallin' bloke... but what if that's what I _wanted_ them to see? What if... I'm something _much_ worse? [Matilda nibbles at her index finger with anticipation.] MA: ...are you? [Pleasence doesn't answer.] MA: Tell me you are! Please! _Please_! It's what I've wanted! It's what I've dreamed of! [Pleasence just winks. Giddy, she squeals unintelligibly.] MA: All an act? JP: ...that would be telling. MA: But there'll be blood, yes? JP: A sacrifice, pet. Something's gotta be given back before the true pain begins. Gotta throw the past away, Ruffles... I gotta move forward, so I figured I'd tell you first. MA: And what of our friends? [Pleasence shrugs.] JP: They know the end's coming. Bryant and Faith -- hell, the both of them are good blokes when it comes down to it. They know I'm going to do whatever it takes, but the one thing they don't know is how far I'm going to go to _cement_ my soddin' legacy here in Rip City. If they want to stand by me, they can... I won't stop them. But, ducks? MA: Yes, my sweet? JP: Could you leave? There's something I have to say alone. [Matilda's eyes go wide, as she smiles and leaves the shot. Johnny Pleasence takes a drag off of his cigarette and flicks it off screen before looking at the camera.] JP: Paul Driscoll... this is the last thing I'm gonna say to you. _Ever_. [Pleasence cracks his neck.] JP: I've been a lot of places in this business -- wrestled damn near everywhere, and had a lot of fun being the "typical bad guy". No more of that, mate. No more telegraphed antics. No more "expected" shenanigans. From here on in, it's just going to be me... and _RCW_ standing in my way. You? You don't even _fit_ into what I have planned... and when it comes down to it? You're just going to be a stepping stone. From what I've _allowed_ you to see, you probably think you have me all figured out -- you probably think you know each and every trick I'm going to pull... but, old son -- you have _no_ idea. You have _no_ idea as to what I'm capable of. The stalling? The cheap shots? It's all been _too easy_. [Pleasence spits.] JP: Everything I've done from the time I came to Rip City until our soddin' match has been a _sham_. At Wild Summer Night, you get to find out exactly just _what_ the Big Bad really is... and it'll be a nightmare. Every crappy experience you've had in each and every little dive you've wrestled in throughout your soddin' career won't compare to what I'm willing to do to you in order to walk out of that arena with my title. Folks like to say that five years ago, you could have been me... well, five years ago? I was already better than you are _now_. But, that's me being too damned honest. If you wanna toss out facts, then here's one for you, "Pistol": I know you're gonna fight with all you've got in you, Paul. You're gonna ignore that bum knee of yours, and try and prove once and for all that you _do_ _matter_... ...but you won't at Wild Summer Night. You're gonna be a footnote. You're gonna be a little asterisk next to the term "championship match" in the write-up about the event on the bloody Internet. In the end, you're going to be _just another body_ counting the lights. I know what I have to do, and it goes far beyond the RCW World Championship. I have to ascend. I have to become what I _always_ have been. And, above all things, this time? [Pleasence glares at the camera.] JP: I will _not_ be denied. [Fade to black. Cut back to Ditka at his desk, the Wild Summer Night logo still on the screen behind him.] DD: Folks, it's going to be an absolutely fascinating encounter to cap off what promises to be an incredible night of wrestling action. So what are you waiting for? Get in touch with your local cable operator right away to find out how you can be a part of Wild Summer Night, coming up Sunday, July 16th, only on pay-per-view! [Ditka turns to a secondary camera.] DD: Well, folks, that will do it for this edition of On The Wire. The countdown to Wild Summer Night is on, and it's shaping up to be the most memorable night of RCW action yet. Until then, this is the voice of RCW, Don Ditka, signing off, and wishing you all a good night, everybody! ["Bodies" kicks in over the PA again as the lights fade in the studio, Ditka shuffling his papers into a neat pile as the camera pulls up, coming to rest on the big blue RCW logo mounted at the top of the set. Fade to black.] ____________________________________________________________________ / Copyright (C) 2006 Rip City Wrestling, Inc. All rights reserved. / / www.ripcitywrestling.com / /___________________________________________________________________/