[We cut to the backstage area where Ryan from ewc.com is pacing outside of
an unmarked door apparently waiting for someone.]

[Ryan]
I'm standing outside the door of once again EWC Heavyweight Champion Fuego
who, coming off the heels of his incredible title victory at Hardcore
Homecoming, must defend his title tonight against TR Paker.  He was
supposed to be out here by now--I guess I'll just see what's up.

(knocks on the door)

[Ryan]
Fuego?  Fuego?

(Ryan shrugs back at the camera and decides to open the door anyway.  He
motions for the cameraman to folow and inside the room we find the champion
sitting on a folding chair with a towel over his head (covering part of his
face)--he seems to be growling.  The crowd seems to be popping like fiends)

[Ryan]
Can I have a word with--

(Fuego suddenly springs out of the chair, kicks it into a locker, and yanks
the mic out of Ryan's hands--a single glare is all it takes before he is
sprinting out of view--making a "you handle this" guesture.)

[Fuego]
(in a low snarling voice)  Chris Monroe...for years people have questioned
your sanity.  Some say you're the sickest man alive.  Others claim that
it's all an act.  You've even accused the fans of being the deranged ones.
I'm here to settle the debate once and for all.  Monroe...YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY
IN NEED OF SERIOUS HELP!!!  (he pulls the towel off his head to reveal a
large burn on his left cheek)  NO ONE WITH THE SLIGHTEST SENSE OF REALITY
WOULD BE BRAVE _OR_ STUPID ENOUGH TO DO THIS TO ME!!! You burned me--fine!
You put me through a table--good for you!  Too bad I took your best shot
and I'm still here to do something about it.  Monroe, I could care less
about the gimmicks, the goons, or the catchphrases--behind all of that you
are just one VERY DEAD MAN.  The worst part Chris, is that this won't just
be about revenge, when all is said and done I'm going to cripple you, and
I'm going to be doing it for FUN.  The hunt is on-get used to looking over
your shoulder because one day soon I'm going to be there and after that you
won't be seeing much more...

(Fuego pauses to collect his thoughts but can't help but emit several
animal-like sounds)

[Fuego]
Parker, don't think I've forgotten about you.  We've had our wars before
and they never ended decisively enough for my tastes.  Tonight I intend to
change that.  I don't consider you a stepping stone to Monroe, you're more
like an appetizer before the main course.  I hope you're fully healed
because tonight I have a lot of rage to work out.

(Fuego takes the mic and tosses it back to Ryan who sheepishly backs
towards the door)

[Ryan]
(whispering) Ummm, back to you guys.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
<<"The House That Jack Built" by Metallica kicks up over the speakers,
as C-Jack Stone and Jon Owens make their way to the ring ...>> 

<Cross>
We are back, and it's time for the North American Tag Team title defense.

<Riker>
Oh my god, do you mean that Beyond Our Control *gasp* is going to DEFEND
the tag team belts?

<Cross>
You know as well as I do that a personal emergency on the part of Murder, Inc.
was what cancelled that match...for that matter, we want to wish Frank Spinelli
and Terry Haynes luck and success as they work these issues through, and wish
them a speedy recovery.

<<As they reach ringside, the music pauses, and switches to "El Phantasmo
and the Chicken Run Blast-o-Rama" by White Zombie. Stone and Owens
roll into the ring, Stone armed and dangerous with a pair of
microphones ... he seems visibly upset, and maybe a little forced,
as he begins ...>>

[C-Jack]
OK, people, pipe down your voices and perk up your ears, because
it's time for a little C-Jack action!

<<BOOOOOOOO>>

Now, some of you may have watched that DISGRACEFUL display of
BIASED officiating and outright THEFT, of the belt that 
rightfully belongs to YOURS TRULY ... Damien, oh Daaaaaaaaaamien,
don't think you've escaped us just yet! The Power Supply WILL find
you again, and when we do, you can sign over that North American
title as payment for injuries rendered!

As to what we're going to do tonight ... LET'S GO TO THE MAP! 
MIRROR, MIRROR, ON THE WALL ... WHO'S THE COOLEST OF THEM ALL?

(The SoloTron fires up to show ... Mark & Greg, the Wave Runners?)

	<Cross>	WHAT THE HELL!?!?!?!

[Mark & Greg]
CUUUUUUUURRRR-TIIIIIIIISSS! ... CUUUUUUUURRRR-TIIIIIIIISSS! ...
CUUUUUUUURRRR-TIIIIIIIISSS! ... YOU SUCK!!!

<<*INSANE* crowd pop; C-Jack goes ballistic in the ring, 
spastically moving from one side of the ring to the next as if to
try and shut each individual in the crowd up personally. Owens seems
nonplussed, but stoic.}

[Greg]
Y'know, a lot of people think the Mark-ster and me are too dumb to
take a hint. They think we're too stubborn and stupid to let any 
common sense sink into our thick skulls. Well, we're about to 
surprise a few people. Power Dudes, we got two words for ya ...

(Some wiseguys in the crowd shout out "SUCK IT!!!")

[Mark]
Not those words, you dweebs!  That's someone else's schtick ...

**laughter from the audience**

[Mark]
Power Dudes ... we're sorry!

{Stone and Owens exchange confused looks, though obviously still
perturbed.}

[Greg]
Now don't let those jaws unhinge too far from your faces, dudes.
You heard right. Mark-ster and I are really really REALLY sorry for
getting under you guys' skin. We've learned our lesson from that
beatdown you laid on us at Hardcore Homecoming, and you'll never have
to worry about us getting in your way ever again.

(Mark and Greg look into the camera with dead seriousness ... which
lasts all of three seconds. They both finally bust out laughing.)

[Mark & Greg]
Naaaaaaahhhh ... WE DON'T THINK SO!!!

[Mark]
You ain't gettin' rid of us that easily, Power Pukes! Bumps, 
bruises, maybe a slight concussion ... it doesn't matter to us! We 
can take whatever you bozos can dish out, we're still here, and we're
gonna be a pain in your ass for a LONG time to come!

[Greg]
And y'know, another complaint we've heard about us is that we're
unfocused. So we like to take lessons from people who *are* focused.
People who are focused right on the SoloTron ... and not noticing 
what's sneaking up (sing-songy voice) right be-HIND yooooouuuuu ...

(C-Jack whips around ready to defend himself, but there's no one 
there)

[Mark & Greg]
PSYCH!!!

(The Runners hi-five each other.)

[Mark]
Oh man, what a doofus!

[Greg]
No kidding ...

(The SoloTron fades out, leaving an angry Owens in the ring, and an
upset C-Jack, who makes several false starts to say something ...)

[Stone]
OH YEAH?? YEAH? Well ... you two brain-dead surfers couldn't ... 
couldn't ...

{Stone drops his head, slumping in a corner, as Owens looks at him
oddly.}

[Stone]
Couldn't care less ... oh, man, WHO AM I KIDDING? I can't do this
anymore. Week after week, I come out here and tell everyone how great
I am, how I'm such a hot-<bleep> athlete and all ... and it's all 
true ... but week after week, somebody manages to show me up. Jon, man,
I can't do it -- I can't keep comin' out here actin' like C-Jack's all
that ... it's time I faced the truth, because when I LOOK in that mirror
I keep talking to, I know it, you know it, they know it, people 
watching at home know it ... I've seen the man in the mirror, and let's 
face it, C-JACK IS WHACK!

**Crowd gives a suprised shout, some people even starting a "C-JACK'S WHACK"
chant**

	<Riker>	This is NOT the Curtis Stone I've come to respect, what is 
		with him?

	<Cross>	I think losing to Damien Omega at Hardcore Homecoming has
		finally caused C-Jack to C-Snap.

[Stone]
I'm better than that, man, and it's time I started proving it. I'm tired
of waiting for my crew to win my matches for me ... I'm tired of people
telling me to shut up ... I'm tired of writing checks with my mouth that 
my body can't cash ... and speaking of checks I can't cash, Terry Magnum,
your family can sleep easy, because after droppin' 6 grand last week in
that stupid match, I can't AFFORD to get fined beating you up ...

So, as of RIGHT now ... C-Jack can take a HIKE! Go ahead call me 
whatever you want -- call me C., call me Jack, call me Stone, hell, you 
can even call me Saul Rosenfeld ... 

[Jon Owens grabs the mic.]

[Owens]
Jack - focus.  The fans aren't worth it.  The Wave Runners aren't 
worth it.  No one in the EWC is worth it, except the Power Supply.  
Now is not the time to be losing it ... focus, dammit!

[Stone]
{pushes Owens away half-heartedly} Don't EVEN get me started on the
Power Supply -- we're like the Webster's illustration for bad ideas ...
Look, let's just get this match over with, OK? {looks down the aisle}
Can somebody hit the champs' music so they can start beating us up,
already? There's a movie I want to catch ...

<Cross>
Folks, I can't believe this...apparently a very disheartened Curtis Stone
in there tonight, and that can't bode well for the Power Supply.

<<"Minstrel in the Gallery" by Jethro Tull comes on and the crowd pops>>

<Cross>
Here come the North American tag champs along with Dr. Kevin Schrapnel, but the
story here is not only Curtis Stone's sudden lack of confidence...but of some 
possible dissention among the Power Supply.

<Riker>
I think you're making a mountain out of a molehill here, Isaac.  Yeah, the
Power Supply have had some tough times, but they've got a premier athlete
in Jon Owens to keep the team focued, and Stone's got some talent too, even if
he isn't showing much backbone at the moment.

*MATCH REPORT*
Cannon and Baen decided to turn the start of this match into an all out brawl, 
which didn't fare well for the smaller BOC members to start...Owens and Stone, both
of whom outweighed their respective opponents, took control with stiff shots to the
head, then a double irish whip that actually had both members of BOC collide in center
ring.  Then they did a double whip to the ropes of each member...but Baen held the
ropes as Cannon ducked a double clothesline...then Baen springboarded off the
ropes into a double bulldog as Cannon rebounded and went low on the legs for a sort of
reverse double doozle, taking both men down.  Baen and Cannon then did a double armtwist
on Owens, then BOTH jumped over the top rope, dragging Owens by his arms over the top.

Once outside, Baen and Cannon did a double whip of Owens into the steel ringsteps,
then Cannon monkey flips Baen into the air into a makeshift senton bomb ON THE STEPS
on Owens.  Meanwhile, in the ring, Stone is taking a little longer than usual to shake
it off.  Cannon manages to lift Stone into a suplex position, but instead gourdbusters
him on the safety divider....to allow Baen to hit a twisting plancha legdrop on 
Owens' head.  At this point, Cannon rolled back into the ring...where Stone was finally
up and started laying boots on Cannon.

Stone grabs Cannon, sends him to the ropes and hits an elbowsmash on Baen.  He picks him
up for a suplex, but Baen dropkicks Stone in the back, allowing Cannon to fall forward into
a cravat bulldog.  Cover, count of two.  Cannon picks up Stone, tags Baen, both men
send him to the ropes, double spinwheel kick.  Baen grabs Stone in a headlock and runs up
the ropes for an Acid Drop, but Stone holds him up in the air...and throws him over
the top *through* the timekeepers table.  Camera shot of Stone is a mask of hurt
and frustration.  Stone rolls out, grabs Baen, who looks really out of it, and rolls
him back into the ring.  At this point, Owens grabs Cannon from behind and German Suplexes 
him on the outside.  Stone motions for the tag, tags in Owens.  Owens locks on the STF, 
the referee checks Baen, and signals that he is unconscious and calls for the bell.

WINNER:  The Power Supply, by submission  4:12

<Cross>
And the Power Supply have struck gold again, they are the new North American Tag Team
champions, but the story is in the ring right now, as Jules Baen is out *cold*.  
Paramedics are checking on him as we speak.

<Riker>
Meanwhile, the new North American champs don't look to be very happy at the moment - 
Owens is berating Stone for not helping him on the outside, and Stone doesn't seem
to care very much.

<Cross>
Folks, they're trying to get Baen out of here safely, we're going to a commercial.....

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
-Only one thing kills one in 3 people that use it.  Tobacco.
-Come into TGI Fridays for the Jack Daniels grill.
-RollerCoaster Tycoon for the PC, and now - Corkscrew Follies expansion pack
-EWC IMPACT for the Sega Dreamcast.  Over 40 EWC superstars of today *plus* Grim Weibaq,
	"Suicidal" Sean Altman, the Savages, and 20 other legends of the EWC
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
{The lights dim for a moment, then flicker to the sounds of thunder
crackling, in the opening of "Couldn't Stand the Weather" by Stevie 
Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble ... on the second thunderclap, the 
flicker of "lightning" concentrates itself on the entrance ramp, 
where Glenn Turner and Toshiro Kenzake emerge, once again in matching
black turtlenecks, sunglasses, white slacks, and white leather 
trenchcoats ... they pause to hoist the World Tag Team titles into 
the air before heading to the ring ...}

[Turner]
{doing a fairly decent imitation of a certain direct-to-video
voiceover ...} What do you get when you start with the biggest,
toughest martial artist in our sport today ...

... add a cowboy with rep for breaking all the expectations ...

... put them in a match devised by a crazed ex-tooth-obsessed
wierdo ...

... and pit them against a pair of violent egomaniacs with delusions
of Hollywood stardom?

[Kenzake]
{leaning in} You get NEW CHAMPIONS, and WE get our BELTS BACK!!!

[Turner]
That's right, DK -- and it looks like nobody was going to break 
Frozen Hell loose THIS time ... but we couldn't have done it alone, 
so in the grand Frozen Hell tradition, it's time to make some Cable 
ACE Award thank-you's ... let's start with the boys in the boardroom 
at EWC, for giving us the title shot we knew we could make the most 
of. That's twice somebody back there has taken a chance on a coupla 
longshots that nobody thought would pay off. 

Next, there's the lovely Frieda, who apparently wanted script approval
for her fellas at Hardcore Homecoming the way they get it in their 
movies. I gotta tell you, big Tosh here was all set to pull out his 
one-of-a-kind reverse shooting star press to wrap things up ...

{The expression on big Tosh's face suggests even he would dispute 
that claim ...}

... but that little take-two on your part made things academic. 
'Course, anytime, Frozen Hell, anytime you want to claim you got the 
short end, just come on down and let's see Bad Brad's RSS-press, and 
we'll sign you a rematch right there.

[Kenzake]
Why wait that long? We can take them ANY time.

[Turner]
Hey, they're entertainers, right? Anyway ... we got one last thank 
you to make before hittin' the road for tonight.

[Kenzake]
Hai ... thank YOU -- ALL of you, who cheer for the Weapons of Last 
Resort from the first night we wrestle, who let us know we are not 
alone in that ring!

[Turner]
Couldn't have said it better myself, DK ... so until next time, 
remember ... {doing the voice-over voice again} WEAPONS of LAST 
RESORT ... coming to a WORLD tag team title match near YOU!

<<The crowd pops loud again as the tag champs head back to the back>>

<Cross> 
World Title Match, coming up NEXT!!!!