[The credits for Good Times fade to black.. as darkness envelopes the screen for a few brief moments. With that, a logo displaying "GIPA 68" comes on the channel blue on white.. a simple yet effective diamond shape making the logo. A voiceover hits the air..] V/O: You are watching Grand Isle Public Access.. channel Sixty-Eight. Coming up next..watch the hard-hitting action of Grand Isle, Louisiana's local wrestling company.. Grand Isle Wrestling!! Two hours of jam-packed southern style wrestling at it's finest! Only here.. on channel Sixty-Eight! [And with that the camera fades out.. fade in on the exterior of _your_ makeshift GIW arena. Two security guards stand there... shootin' the shit.] Guard #1: Man, I'm _so_ glad I didn't make the trip to New Orleans for the supercard. I heard Bryant got drunk and started waving his di- [Suddenly, a voice rings out.] "HEY!" [The guards turn... and are quickly approached by the one true Outlaw of professional wrestling, Bobby Taylor. With a thud, Guard #1 is hurled back first against the wall. The second guard starts to move to help... but then realizes Taylor looks pissed and the GIW suits only gave their guards a fierce tone of voice to use as a weapon.] BT: Is he here? [The guard stammers, visibly nervous.] G: Wh... wh... who?! [Taylor rolls his eyes and then slams the guard into the wall again.] BT: Who the hell do you think?! Verhoeven! Is that bastard here?! [The guard shakes his head frantically... and Taylor's head whips over to look at the second guard.] BT: Is he lying to me? G2: No! No! Verhoeven's not here yet! Doyle Woodall is though. [Taylor lets the guard slump down to the ground, glaring at the second one with a confused look on his face.] BT: Who the [BLEEP] is that? [Now it's this guard's turn to look nervous.] G2: Erm... your opponent? [Taylor glares at the guard... and realizes he's not joking.] BT: [BLEEP]. [And with that, the Outlaw disappears into the building.] [The scene remain black as we hear the distinct sound of the opening guitar riff of one "Born On the Bayou" by CCR.. as we cut to a shaky handheld version of "Bad Eye" McBaine and Leviticus Nelson falling from a bed of a truck and through the windshield of a nearby car.] #Now, when I was just a little boy,# #Standin' to my Daddy's knee,# #My poppa said, "Son, don't let the man get you# #Do what he done to me."# #'Cause he'll get you,# #'Cause he'll get you now, now.# [The camera cuts to the big Royal Rumble.. as various men are brawling in the ring.. then cutting to City Jack lifting up the Television title as the fans are all on their feet.] #And I can remember the fourth of July,# #Runnin' through the backwood, bare.# #And I can still hear my old hound dog barkin',# #Chasin' down a hoodoo there.# #Chasin' down a hoodoo there.# [Clips of Roxie and Angie rolling around on the outside.. and then a clip of Shane Destiny dropping Jaime Roth square on his head unexpectedly! Then another clip of Roth locked in the Destiny Strange as the bell sounds for the draw!] #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou.# [Quick clip of Dave Bryant superkicking Doyle Woodall.. followed by a clip of "Violator" Bobby Ray Wilkins pulling down the bottom rope as Woodall flips over and to the floor.. followed by a quick clip of Johnny Black's South Texas Deathride on Bryant through a table at ringside!] #Wish I was back on the Bayou.# #Rollin' with some Cajun Queen.# #Wishin' I were a fast freight train,# #Just a chooglin' on down to New Orleans.# [Clips of Kendrick Lane cutting a promo as the fans boo.. then a clip of Reggie Calhoun blasting City Jack in the throat with the clipboard. Jake Cutler and Harisoto Mashima counterwrestling and taking it to the mat.. followed by the end clip of Brawlin'.. where Nelson, Faith, McBaine, Brady and Wilkins brawl in a blood soaked ring of barbed wire carnage.. then cutting to the stoic face of "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor as the crowd is beside itself!] #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou.# [Flashes of the faces of Jake Cutler.. Harisoto Mashima.. Robert Kellan.. Lucas McCall.. Shane Destiny.. Jaime Roth.. and Reggie Calhoun..] #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou.# [Flashes of the faces of Russ Brady.. Ryan Faith.. Kendrick Lane.. City Jack.. Dave Bryant.. Bobby Ray Wilkins.. Johnny Black.. Leviticus Nelson.. and Bobby Taylor..] #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou.# [And then the stills of one man's face.. bloodied to shit.. his eye patch caked with blood.. as we pan out.. we see the man holding the GIW Heavyweight title.. that one man being "Bad Eye" McBaine.. we freeze on this picture as the music starts to die and big bold yellow lettering lines the center of the screen..] GRAND ISLE WRESTLING TV July 31st, 2002 [With that.. the music completely dies as the camera fades in to a jam packed Sand Dollar Marina!! And only one thing can be heard.. chanting throughout the marina.. "G-I-W!! G-I-W!!" "G-I-W!! G-I-W!!" "G-I-W!! G-I-W!!" "G-I-W!! G-I-W!!" "G-I-W!! G-I-W!!" "G-I-W!! G-I-W!!" "G-I-W!! G-I-W!!"] [The crowd continues to chant as the camera swivels around from an upper level fixed position.. looking down at the ring and around the marina.. the fans are packed to the brim tonight.. standing room only behind the back rows.. shit, we may have 200-250 people in the house tonight. The camera tilts up to show the open air dome and the dark night's sky.. as moths swarm in masses around the two main overhead lights fixed above the ring.. the camera then tilting back down.] [It starts to zoom towards the ring.. the apron flaps on the side read "GRAND ISLE WRESTLING" in red lettering on black.. the mat itself your basic light blue.. plain looking right now, but we are sure to see it stained red by the end of the night. And in the ring stand our lovable broadcast team of Jacob Rodgers and Dirk Davidson.] [Rodgers is decked out tonight in a black slacks and a black sports jacket.. white dress shirt underneath.. his black dress shoes presenting a shiny glare off the camera. Dirk Davidson, on the other hand, sports a pair of blue jeans and a brown sports jacket with a black T-shirt underneath, true class at it's finest. Rodgers smiles to the camera.. raising a microphone to his lips.] JR: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE GRAND ISLE.. WELCOME TO... GRAND ISLE WWWWWWWWWWWRESTLING!!!!!!!!!!! [BIG TIME POP!!!] JR: Two weeks removed! TWO WEEKS REMOVED!.. from the Nightmare in New Orleans! [Pop!] And what a night it was.. DD: Damn right! The biggest and best night for our company to date, no doubt about it! JR: That's right.. The Nightmare broke our previous attendance, viewership, and merchandise records.. AND was nationally acclaimed by many of the top wrestling websites across America! From the Loser Leaves Town match.. to the streetfight.. to the big Television title match.. to our devilishly twisted Spidernet Trap Death Match.. we had it all! [Pop!] DD: But now it is time to move on. JR: That's right fans.. tonight is the night we start our evolution. People have taken notice that the Grand Isle is where it's at.. DD: I wouldn't go that far. [Heel Pop!] JR: Regardless of what Dirk says.. the world has taken notice and it is now our turn to shine back! And that starts tonight! [Pop!] DD: Without McBaine? Ugh.. and I hate to say this meaning anything good but.. without.. City Jack? JR: Well, casualties of war are sometimes harsh.. it's no secret that McBaine and Jack are not going to be here tonight.. [Boo!] and it's no surprise that quite a number of names in the Grand Isle have been cut loose or left due to contractual disputes over the recent weeks.. [Boo!] but that doesn't mean we don't have a host of surprises for you tonight! [Pop!] DD: True enough.. true enough. JR: Tonight.. in our main event.. the GIW TAG TEAM TITLES ARE ON THE LINE!! [Big Pop!] The ever-so-popular tag team champions, Robert Kellan and Harisoto Mashima [Pop!], face off against an odd but seemingly deadly duo in The Scrayper and "Classy" Kendrick Lane! [Big Heel Pop!] DD: C'mon guys.. if anybody is as classy as Kendrick Lane, it's gotta be The Scrayper! [...] DD: Seriously! JR: Riiiight. DD: Bah! JR: Also tonight.. Rembrandt defenses his Television title [Massive Heel Pop!] for the first time against the red hot Jaime Roth! [Big Pop!] DD: Red hot? The kid got lucky and now this company is without one of it's brightest stars! That was a good travesty! Roth should die.. and if anybody can kill.. it's Rembrandt! [Heel Pop!] JR: Destiny knew the rules and abided by them. Roth has seemingly turned the corner and just maybe he can add the TV title to his hot streak tonight. DD: Never. JR: "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor is scheduled to face the much-anticipated returning of Doyle Woodall! [BIG POP!] The dirty One returned at the Nightmare and tonight he has a chance to really make a splash against a near legend.. DD: NEAR?! Bobby Taylor is _THE_ Outlaw.. not Har- JR: Ahem. Regardless.. what a fight that's gonna be. DD: Agreed. JR: Also.. Tommy Ganz [Nice Pop!].. the resident Deathdealer has a huge task ahead of him tonight as he must go one on one with "Violator" Bobby Ray Wilkins! [Booo!] DD: Squash! Ganz ain't got a shot in hell.. he'll be lucky to leave with sight in both eyes after he gets wasted by THE LARIAT! [Booooo!] JR: THE LARIAT is a hunk of horseshi- DD: JAKE! [BIG POP!] JR: Well it is! DD: Um.. well.. what about our opener for the evening? JR: Oh.. right.. and to open things up we've got a big triangle match set between Jamison Parker [Pop!] , "Dynasty" Dane Levine [Boo!], and the debuting "Revolution" Randall Crane [Big New Guy Pop!]!! DD: Rock on. Oh.. AND fans.. do I personally have a big treat for you.. even know none of you have ever done jack squat for me.. [Boo!] but I'm just a good guy! Tonight.. you won't wanna miss my interview with "Bad Eye" McBaine.. which is some sort of weirdness.. as I spoke to him while he was in the hospital over a week ago.. trust me, you don't wanna miss it. JR: I sure won't. Plus.. we'll also have the updated condition of City Jack later on.. DD: Yippie. JR: But right now let's hear some pre-recorded comments from Randall Crane and Dane Levine about their upcoming matches just moments away.. [We settle in on a view of the backstage area of the Sand Dollar Marina. And as fortune would have it, the camera would happen to catch sight of "Dynasty" Dane Levine as he's entering the arena, dressed in street clothes which are simply a pair of blue jeans, running shoes, a pair of sunglasses, and a black T-shirt that has a picture of himself on the front posing and the word "Dynasty" written above it in glowing letters. And yes, though you might think this is the first piece of merchandise available for the Dane Levine clothing line ... sadly, it is not. Truth be told, he probably created the shirt just to please his own ego. As usual, the lovely Cassandra Davis hangs on his arm like a young groupie would cling to a rock star.] [All of a sudden, Jacob Rodgers appears from behind the camera with a microphone in his hand as he approaches Levine. Levine raises an eyebrow, as though not expecting to be interviewed. And even more confusing is who the interviewer is, especially after the last time. Levine just offers up a quick grin, however, and points his finger at Rodgers as though greeting an old friend. He wraps his arm around his shoulders so that he has Rodgers on one side and Cassandra on the other. Rodgers blinks as he gets a bit of a surprise, himself.] DDL: Jakey! Long time no see! Ain't this great? I got both of my favorite people in the whole world, right here next to me! [Rodgers just gives Levine a look as though he's out of his mind. Levine then lets him go, chuckling a little.] JR: Ahem ... Dane Le -- [Levine gives Rodgers a quick glance as though he were about to scold a puppy for pissing on the carpet.] JR: Sorry, "Dynasty" Dane Levine ... [Levine smiles.] JR: ... tonight you go into a Three Way Dance Elimination match against a couple of recent newcomers to GIW. One in particular is debuting right here tonight. How do you feel about being the favorite to win this match? [Levine's smile goes sour as he glares at Rodgers.] DDL: What the hell is that supposed to mean!? Dane Levine isn't good enough to be the favorite to win every once in awhile? Listen here, you stupid -- [Rodgers cuts him off.] JR: ALL I'M SAYING ... [Levine stops in mid-sentence and waits for him to finish.] JR: ... is that you have experience over both of these wrestlers, even if it is just by a couple of matches. Therefore, you would be the odds on favorite to win this thing. [Considering this for a moment, Levine nods his head in agreement.] DDL: Oh. Well, I suppose someone out there might think of it that way. But those who do are only half right. Because no matter how much 'experience' I may or may not have, I'm still the best here in GIW. As it stands, I'm undefeated in singles competition and I don't think there's many others who can say that. [Rodgers just stares at Levine as though he's crazy.] JR: But you've never even competed in a singles match yet. DDL: My point exactly! Who the _hell_ does the booking around here!? I've been here for how long now? JR: A month or so? DDL: A MONTH!? A month and I have yet to be put into singles competition. Can you give me some logical reasoning behind this, Jake? JR: Well, I'm not sure, but ... DDL: That's what I thought. You know what I think? I think the suits are just afraid of the damage I'll do. They don't want a rising star like me to shine too quickly, otherwise I might get gobbled up by some bigger, better promotion. See, I've finally figured it out ... it's all about protecting your merchandise. And in this case, that merchandise would be yours truly. So, by keeping their valuables at home, they get to benefit from them before anyone else can. You see what I'm saying?" [With his mouth slightly agape, Rodgers seems to be speechless. Perhaps too stupefied by what Levine just spewed out to say anything in response. Levine just grins and nods.] DDL: You know what I'm talkin' about. [He nudges Rodgers slightly with his elbow, who simply shakes his head and then proceeds with the interview.] JR: You're coming off of what could have been a pivotal victory for your career at a Nightmare in New Orleans. However, you still were not able to be the one to get the pinfall victory, which would have broke your losi -- [Levine's eyes go wide with rage as he realizes what Rodgers is about to say. And as soon as Jake sees this, he stammers for a moment and begins to rephrase the question.] JR: -- erraahhh ... I mean, which would have begun your first winning streak here in GIW. [Levine smiles.] JR: So my question to you is this ... what do you think of the opponents that you will be facing tonight and how do you plan to win this match? [Rodgers holds the microphone in front of Levine and it doesn't take long for him to come up with an answer to this question.] DDL: As they say, simple questions deserve simple answers ... in regards to the first question, I don't know a whole lot about Jeremy Parker ... JS: Jamison Parker. DDL: ... or Raymond Crane ... JS: Randall Crane. DDL: Whatever! The fact of the matter is that both of these two hapless sons of bitches are about to step into the ring with "Dynasty" Dane Levine ... and though they both would just love to walk away with a victory tonight, I'm sorry to say that it's not meant to be. Hell, they'll be lucky if they're able to walk away at all after I get through with them. As for how I'm planning on winning ... I'll let my actions in the ring answer that question. Now, quit wasting my time ... I have a match to get ready for. C'mon, Cassie. [Cassandra waves her good-byes to Rodgers with a smile, as she is led away by Levine. And as always, completely oblivious to everything that Dane Levine just said. She's just happy he said her name on TV. Rodgers rolls his eyes with an audible sigh as the camera fades out.] [The scene slowly fades in.] [The camera opens to a shot of an old wooden pier, jutting out into an unknown body of water. The wind is blowing over the area, creating small waves on the water. The sun glistens off the waves, the water so clear that it's almost transparent. A few fishermen are seen in their boats, all of them casting into the water to try their luck. From somewhere off camera, a creaking noise is heard as if someone is walking onto the pier. The camera pans around, and seen walking towards the camera is one of GIW's newest signees, "The Revolution" Randall Crane. Dressed in a sleeveless T-shirt, baggy jean shorts and a pair of sandals, he walks with a confident look upon his face. Crane stops to look over the area, nodding his head as he speaks.] RC: The question on everyone's mind is, "who are you?" I am a former EMWC World Tag Team Champion. I have sent some of the greatest teams in the business to the retirement home. The Down Boys... The Fraternity Boys... all have fallen when put in my path. I am the man who held the A1 Promotions Heavyweight Title for all but three weeks. Anyone who signed a contract was given a title shot, and each person that stood across from me was sent to the back a loser. I am one of the "up and coming" stars of this business, and am an asset to any company who I decide to sign a contract with. I am the man who will stop at nothing to be the best, and will do _whatever_ it takes to prove that to every single person watching me on a weekly basis. The name is Randall Crane... the nickname is "The Revolution." [Crane turns his attention to the camera.] RC: This is the great "Grand Isle" that I've heard so much about. Time and time again I've been told about the quality of talent that resides here. Men like Bad Eye McBaine... Bobby Taylor... even "The Butcher" decided to come out of retirement to wrestle in this promotion. It is my duty to stand next to these men and solidify my status as a legend. My quest starts on July 30th... debuting against two others. I will admit, I know nothing about either man. Jamison Parker and Dane Levine are strangers to me. However, from what I saw of them at Nightmare in New Orleans, I see that I am taller and outweigh them. Basically, the advantage stands squarely in my favor. You two might have the experience in GIW, but I know what it takes to make it. Once that bell rings, you can expect nothing short of a trip through hell and back. When the dust settles and a winner is declared, one man will stand with his arm raised in victory. [Crane slowly raises a hand into the air.] RC: You're looking at that man right now. Parker... Levine... "The Revolution" has arrived. Prepare. [With a sinister smirk, Crane slowly turns away. End. Cut back to Dirk and Jacob set up at ringside.. headsets on as Dirk smirks.] DD: Those two rock.. why does one have to lose tonight? JR: Because.. rules and rules. And anyway.. both can lose tonight.. DD: Riiiiiiiight. Jamison Parker?! BWAHAHAHAHAH!! JR: I like the kid's heart. DD: But that's all he's got. JR: Sometimes that's all you need.. speaking of.. I hear the camera crew has caught up with Jamison in the back.. let's see what he has to say about his upcoming match.. [Cut backstage, where Jamison Parker, dressed in black jean shorts and a fresh white T-shirt with the GIW logo on the front, and with a small bandage on his forehead, talks into a cell phone.] JP: ... Mom? ... Hey, Mom. What's up? ... Not much here. Got my apartment yesterday. It's a dump, but then, it was cheap too, and you know how my room always gets anyway. ... Mom, I know how to wash my clothes. I just happen to procrastinate these things. ... Yeah, Mom. I had my first match at this show in New Orleans. ... It went great, except for the stake in my head ... No, no ... No, you must have misheard me, I'm fine, really. ... Hold on for a second ... [Parker looks up as referee Eli Francois enters.] EF: Hey, Jas ... er, Jamison ... your match is first tonight. It's a triangle match against- JP: A what? EF: A triangle match. JP: What the hell is a triangle match? [Francois blinks.] EF: You don't know what a triangle match is? JP: Never heard of it. [Francois stands silently for several seconds, obviously not believing what he is hearing.] JP: Uh, dude? So, what exactly is a triangle match? [Francois takes a deep breath.] EF: Well, you'll be wrestling two other guys. First fall wins. Fairly straightforward. JP: Wait a minute. I'm wrestling _two_ men? EF: Yes. JP: At the _same_ time? EF: Yes. JP: What kind of sick place is this?! EF: Why don't you take off that bandage and look in the mirror, kid. [Parker reaches his hand up, touching the bandage and wincing with the contact.] JP: Point taken. EF: Get ready. In five minutes, you're on. [Francois departs, and Parker raises the cell phone back to his ear.] JP: Sorry about that, Mom. ... What? ... Oh, the bandage? It's just a small cut I got while ... I was fishing, and the hook ... yeah, hurt like a bitch. ... Sorry, Mom, I'll watch my language. ... Why would you think I'd be wrestling two guys? Really, Mom, wrestling isn't that bad. In fact, it's a lot less dangerous than I thought. ... I'm always careful, Mom. ... yeah, Mom ... I love you too. ... OK, say hi to my sister for me. ... Great. Bye. [Parker hits the "end" button on the cell phone ...] JR: Hey, man. [... and looks up just in time to see Jamie Roth walking through the door.] JP: Hey. JR: I watched you wrestle back in New Orleans ... not bad for your first match. JP: Thanks. JR: Sure. Anyway, I just wanted to wish you luck tonight. And if you ever need any help or advice, feel free to come to me, you know? JP: OK, sure. Hey, I appreciate that. Thanks a lot. JR: Anytime, man. Have a good one. JP: Thanks, man ... you, too. [Parker watches Roth walk away. He smiles, then starts preparing for his first ever triangle match. Fade.] DD: Hahahahaha! This kid is retarded! JR: DIRK! DD: Sorry, but he is. And to befriend Jaime Roth.. good lord.. talk about the uber-gay and beyond. JR: Good lord.. fans, let's kick it over to Antonio Hervez for the official introductions.. please.. [Cut to Hervez.. our Latino Midget Ring Announcing GOD.. who wavers with drunken delight in the ring.. attempting to read the card and speak..] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our opening contest of the evening ees a triangle match [Pop!].. scheduled for one fall.. with a feefteen meenute time leemit.. ["Revolution Is My Name" by Pantera begins to play over the PA System. The lights around the wrestler's entrance slowly begin to fade to complete darkness. A set of strobe lights begins to flash on either side of the entrance as well, as the fans in attendance start to boo.] AH: About to make his way down to the ring... standing six feet eight inches tall... and weighing in at two-hundred and sixty-nine pounds... he hails from Atlanta, Georgia... here is... "THE REVOLUTION" RRRRRRRRRRANDALLLLLLLLLL CRRRRRRRRRRANNNNNNNNNNE!!!!!!!!!! [The lights at the wrestlers entrance stop flashing, lighting up all around as the curtains are thrown back. Standing there is the massive frame of Randall Crane, who smiles wickedly as he takes in the boos. Crane slowly raises one arm to the crowd, as they boo even louder. It is then that Crane makes his way down to the ring, walking down the aisle at a normal pace, smirking at the insults being thrown at him. He takes a moment to talk trash to a few of the fans, then walks away from them as they boo, which is very audible to the camera. Crane makes his way to the ringside area, as he slowly climbs the steps leading into the ring. He stands at the ring apron, then lifts one leg over the top rope, followed by the other. Crane gets into the ring, ascending one of the turnbuckles, raising an arm into the air. As the crowd boos him, Crane lets them know what he thinks by flipping them off, the boos getting even louder. Crane then decends the ropes, walking over to his corner, where he takes off his shirt, handing it to one of the ring attendants. He then prepares for his match.] AH: And his opponent.. [The opening notes of P.O.D.'s "Boom" begin to play over the PA system and out from behind the curtains steps "Dynasty" Dane Levine. And on his arm is Cassandra Davis, who is always all smiles as she looks out at the crowd and back to Levine.] [Levine is of fairly average height for someone in his profession, but has a very well-chiseled build that's just about as perfect as anyone could ever want without being grotesque. He has short black hair that's spiked up just slightly, though not so much as to be considered a crew cut. He wears a pair of small rectangular sunglasses that rest on the bridge of his nose, but he makes certain everyone can still see the pair of bright green eyes that lie behind the sunglasses. He wears a pair of red tights with the word "Dynasty" written on his ass in black and a pair of black boots with red shin guards and knee pads. Cassandra wears a black leather strapless top that covers from underneath her arms down to her ribs, leaving her midriff bare and a pair of black leather pants that hug tightly to her hips, but curve down in the front and back to be a bit more revealing without showing too much of either side. She wears a pair of black somewhat platform style shoes on her feet that give her a couple more inches to her height.] AH: On his way to the ring.. he ees accompanied by the lovely Cassandra.. [Pop!].. he weighs in tonight at 247 pounds.. and he hails from Saint Louis, Missouri.. here is.. "DYNASTY" DANE LEVINE!!!!!!!!!!!! [As they reach the ring, Levine stops in front of a young boy in the front row. With a smirk on his face, he removes his sunglasses and then carefully places them on the boy's face. Backing up a bit, he takes a good look at the kid and then abruptly snatches the sunglasses off of his face, shaking his head. Looking into the camera with an arrogant grin, he mouths the words 'If ya can't make it look good, then ya shouldn't be wearin' it.' Levine then leads Davis up the steps and sits on the middle rope, allowing her to enter the ring. Dane then hops up to the second rope and outstretches his arms to his sides with that cocky smirk on his face as the whole crowd boos in unison. He just gives off an arrogant chuckle and then he hops back down to look at Davis as he says, 'They're so jealous.' to her and she smiles and nods in agreement. Levine then removes his sunglasses again and places them on Cassie's face. She smiles brightly and then exits the ring.] AH: And their opponent.. from Smithsburg, Maryland ... weighing in at 205 pounds ... JAMISON PARKER!!!!!!!! [Parker walks out from behind the curtain to quite a decent little face pop! He jaunts down to the ring sporting his black leg-length tights, black elbow and knee pads, white wrestling boots. He walks down to the ring without music, climbs the steps and steps between the ropes.. warming up as he awaits the bell.] ------------------------------------------------- Grand Isle Wrestling: Triangle Match Opener!!!!! Randall Crane vs. Dane Levine vs. Jamison Parker Written By: Jimmy Testosterone ------------------------------------------------- [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: Here we are, kicking off yet another edition of GIW TV with a three way dance, folks! DD: Whoop-dee-doo. Looks more like a squash to me, what with Randall Crane being in this match and all. JR: Didn't you like Levine before? DD: Eh... you can't really bet on that guy anymore these days. JR: Being smart for once, eh? DD: Yeah... HEY! [Randall Crane looks ready, as he's pacing around, eyeing both Jamison Parker and Dane Levine. Levine doesn't look too interested, as he just leans back against the turnbuckles, as if to wait for something to happen. Parker, however, looks a bit confused and maybe even a bit frightened.] DD: Hehe, look at Parker. He's like a scared little meece! JR: A scared little what?! At any rate, Parker is stepping out of the corner there, and... he's having a conference with Eli Francois? DD: Oh, good. So, he's going to bow out of the match and let the pros handle this, right? JR: I doubt it, Dirk. DD: Eat me. JR: I'll pass. [As Parker talks to Francois, Crane charges towards Parker...] "THHHUUUUUUUDDDDDDD!" [... and nearly knocks his head off with a lariat! Huge pop!] JR: Oh! Big-time lariat by "The Revolution" Randall Crane, who is making his GIW debut here tonight! DD: Yeah, you probably mentioned that before. Where the hell is Levine? [As Crane punishes Parker inside the ring, the camera switches to a shot of Levine outside the ring, sitting to the right of the commentary table.] JR: What the hell is he doing? He's supposed to be in that ring! DD: Oh, let him do what he wants, Jake. There's nothing against him taking a little break from the wear and tear of this sport. JR: Erm... he hasn't even _done_ anything! [Back inside the ring, Parker comes off the ropes... and Crane grabs him by the throat, hoists him up...] "THHHHHUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!" [... and sends him _hard_ down to the mat with a chokeslam!] DD: Aww yeah! JR: Crane with a chokeslam... and follows up with a cover! ONE! TWO! THR -- [Heel pop!] JR: No! Levine just made the save! DD: Now, that's a smart wrestler, Jake -- he _knows_ that he can lose this match without being pinned. He acted fast. JR: Yeah, after sitting here for like two minutes. [Levine brings a slightly dazed Crane to his feet and tries to whip the Revolution to the ropes, but ends up getting reversed. Levine bounces off the ropes instead and ducks underneath a clothesline attempt from Crane.] JR: Levine goes underneath... Crane comes off the ropes now -- "THHHHHUUUUUUDDDD!" JR: Flying forearm! He nearly knocked Levine's head off with that one, Dirk! DD: Hmm... looks like I'm gonna have to put a bit more money on this kid, no? JR: Perhaps. You might have to split it with me. DD: Hands off, bitch. [Crane quickly gets back to his feet and saunters towards Levine... but Parker, out of nowhere, rolls Crane up with a schoolboy! Shocked pop!] JR: Rollup by Parker! ONE! TWO! THR -- [Pop!] JR: Crane powers out of that one in the nick of time, and -- "THHHHHUUUUUDDDDDDD!" DD: Haha! Crane just knocked that kid's head out of the Grand Isle Marina! JR: What a clothesline by Randall Crane, who doesn't look too pleased that Parker almost scored the win over him! DD: Bah, it was a fast count by Francois. That old coot. JR: You just keep saying that. I think Parker's a talented young man. DD: Quit it, Rodgers -- not even you can hype him up. JR: Eh, you might be right. [Crane grabs Parker and throws him through the ropes, making for a rough landing on the outside for the greenhorn. Crane follows after him to continue the punishment.] JR: Parker is on the outside, courtesy of Crane, and well, things aren't looking too good for the youngster. DD: This is where it gets _real_ good. C'mon, Crane, send this kid packing with the other deadbeats! [As Parker shakes his head, trying to clear the cobwebs, Crane throws our favorite midget ring announcer, Antonio Hervez, off his chair and takes it.] DD: Not again! JR: Crane showing some massive testicular fortitude by stealing Antonio Hervez's chair! DD: What courage! [Right. Anyway, Crane stalks Parker with the chair, waiting for the kid to turn around, and as soon as he does...] "THWWWWAAAAAACKKKKKKK!" [Hardcore pop!] DD: Crane just chucked the chair into Parker's face! Lovely! JR: Good lord... Crane just threw the chair like it was a baseball and it hit Parker right on the head! Parker goes down like a ton of bricks, and Crane has him -- [Suddenly, a blur shoots through the ropes and lands on both Parker and Crane! Huge highspot pop!] JR: SUICIDE DIVE! LEVINE JUST TOOK DOWN BOTH CRANE AND PARKER! DD: Dane's lookin' good tonight, Rodgers. JR: I think Levine's straight, Dirk. DD: Suck my c[BLEEP]. JR: I'll pass. [Levine pulls himself up using the ring apron and glances back at Crane and Parker. Crane seems to be recovering well, while Parker is... well, he's still floored.] DD: Parker looks like he had two beers. JR: You can't get drunk off two beers, Dirk. DD: Well, I'm betting that's all he can handle. JR: Odds are, if the kid was an asshole, you'd like him. DD: Well... yeah. [Levine smartly picks up Parker and tosses him back inside the ring. Levine then follows up by climbing up to the top rope. He turns around, his back facing the ring, and launches off with a moonsault...] "THHHHHUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!" [Heel pop!] DD: WOO! JR: Oh, man! What a moonsault, what hangtime! [The crowd is obviously disappointed, as they'd hope that Levine would miss. Seems like the only individuals ecstatic are Cassandra and Levine himself, who quickly goes for the ARROGANT COVER~!] JR: Nonchalant cover by Levine... ONE! TWO! THR -- [Shocked pop!] DD: B-b-bwhat?! Crane just made the save, the bastard! JR: Wait a minute, I thought you had your money on him! DD: Things, er, change. JR: Obviously. At any rate, Crane knocked Levine off of Parker in the nick of time... and now, both men are in the midst of a slugfest! DD: No, come on, guys! Beat the crap out of Parker! [As Crane and Levine battle it out, Parker slowly slips under the ropes and onto the apron. He grabs the top rope, leans back, and launches himself into the ring towards both men with a springboard clothesline! Pop!] JR: Ooh! Springboard clothesline! He just knocked both Crane and Levine off their feet! DD: Noooo! JR: Nice move by Parker, who gets atop of Levine for the cover! ONE! TWO! [Mixed pop!] JR: Crane pulls Parker off! DD: Aww yeah... _now_ he's in for it. JR: Crane hooks Parker -- "THHHHHUUUUDDDDDDD!" JR: Brutal backdrop suplex! DD: [mock British accent] YOU SHOULD STAY DOWN! JR: Snatch? DD: Natch. [After some flopping, Parker stays motionless... until Crane pulls him back to his feet. Crane puts Parker in a standing headscissors, then lifts him upside down. At the same time, Levine is standing on the middle rope.] DD: This looks bad for Parker. YES! JR: I think we all know what's coming up here -- "THHHHHHUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDD!" [THEY BROKE HIS NECK POP!] JR: SPIKE PILEDRIVER! DD: Aww yeah! That was great! Did you see the kid's neck snap?! JR: You're sick, you know that? [Without skipping a beat, Crane turns on Levine as he kicks him in the gut! Pop!] DD: No, dammit! You guys were doing well! JR: Crane hooks Levine -- "CRRRRRUUUUUUNNNNCH!" JR: Fisherman's Buster! Crane calls that "World Coming Down"! DD: And indeed it did come down... on Levine! Signature move name pun flex, baby! JR: ... [Crane pulls himself up and looks down at the bodies of Levine and Parker. Crane's glance lingers on Parker and a small grin appears on his face.] JR: What the hell is going through Crane's mind? He should go for the pin right now. DD: I dunno, Rodgers, he might have something planned for li'l Parker over there. JR: I hope not. Crane's a beast compared to Parker. [Parker gets pulled up by Crane... and then knocked back down with a heavy right hand! Heel pop!] JR: Oh, come on! [Parker, crawls onto his knees and tries to pull himself up, using Crane's leg... but Crane just looks down at him condescendingly.] DD: Look at him, Jake... begging like a dog! JR: Please. This isn't warranted at all... Crane should just finish him off! This is gonna bite him in the ass and he probably knows it. [Crane grasps a handful of Parker's hair and sets him up between his legs. Crane lifts Parker up into the air! Huge heel pop!] DD: Here it comes! The Revolution's End 2000, baby! JR: I don't think so! Levine just dropkicked Crane in the chest! Parker falls on top of Crane and cradles the leg -- [Even before Francois can make the count, Dane yanks Parker right off of Crane!] JR: Dane won't let the fall happen! Levine with a waistlock on Parker! He lifts -- [Shocked pop!] DD: What?! JR: Parker is countering the German suplex! Parker with a go-behind... waistlock... "THHHHHHUUUUUUUUDDDDDD!" [Bigger shocked pop!] JR: GERMAN WITH A BRIDGE! ONE! TWO! THREE?! [HUGE SHOCKED POP!] JR: YES, HE GOT THE PIN! DD: NO, NO, NO! FRANCOIS SAYS IT'S A TWO! [Levine shakes off nearly getting defeated by Parker, who thinks he won the match. Levine hooks Parker from behind with a waistlock yet again and lifts him up and over...] "THHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!" [SHOCKED POP RISES AGAIN!] JR: OH GOD! What a German suplex by Levine, who folded Parker like an accordion! That was almost a shuttle loop buster! DD: Yeah... 'cept Parker landed on his head. [Levine begins stomping away on Parker, not realizing that Crane is creeping in from behind... with another steel chair.] DD: Uh... Dane? JR: Crane's rearing back -- "THHHHHHHWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKK!" [Pop!] JR: GOOD LORD! That chair bounced off Levine's head! DD: Ack! Crane's a monster! [Crane picks up the chair and flattens it on the mat, which seems like a difficult task since it's dented to hell after the chairshot. Crane grabs Levine, drags him to a corner, and hoists him up onto his shoulder.] JR: Crane, going for a powerslam here, as he charges foward -- "THHHHHHRRRRRAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKK!" [Hardcore pop!] DD: Yikes! Crane just slammed Levine onto that chair! JR: Levine's out... and Crane makes a cover! ONE! TWO! THR -- [Pop!] JR: Parker stops the count, though! DD: Big mistake, lad. JR: Crane looks _furious_... and Parker nails him with a set of right hands! DD: Oh, man... don't get Randall angry. You wouldn't like him when he's angry. [Crane drives a knee into Parker's solar plexus, grabs his arm, and whips him into the ropes. Parker bounces back and ducks a running lariat from Crane... and comes off the other side onto an unsuspecting Crane with a crossbody block!] JR: Nice crossbody by Jamison Parker, catching Crane off-guard! DD: Gah! JR: Francois dives in for the count... ONE! TWO! [Heel pop!] DD: Thank God! Crane kicked out! JR: That he did... but here comes Levine, looking like he's taken quite a beating... [As Crane rolls out of the ring for a breather, Levine swings Parker over with a double underhook suplex. Levine grabs Parker again and shoots him into the ropes with an Irish whip, but gets reversed!] JR: Reversal by Jamison Parker -- DROPKICK! [Pop! Levine gets hit hard in the face, sending him through the ropes!] DD: Dammit! C'mon, someone get that kid! He's making me look bad! JR: Not to mention Levine and Crane -- "THHHHHHUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!" [Huge shocked pop!] JR: Good God! Out of nowhere with a spear! Randall Crane just broke Jamison Parker in two! [Parker lies there, motionless. Immediately, Crane grabs Jamison's right leg, turns him over onto his belly... and locks on the Revolution's End '02! Heel pop!] JR: Revolution's End '02! He's gonna try to make Parker tap! DD: Bah, that shouldn't be too difficult. But, still, I think Crane should break the kid's angle for good measure. JR: You're sadistic. DD: Yeah, and? [Crane has the hold locked in tightly, and right in the center of the ring, too. Obviously, there's no chance of escape for Parker. Referee Francois asks Parker whether he wants to give up or not, but Parker just shakes his head "no."] DD: Give it up, Parker! It's over! JR: As much as I hate to say it, I agree with you, Dirk... this kid should live to fight another day. DD: Yeah, then probably get a worse beatdown. Hehe. JR: C'mon, Dirk, you gotta give him credit. He's showing great resilience here. [Crane twists the ankle more and more, prompting a guttural scream from the rookie. His arm lifts slowly, conveying that he's about to tap, but...] "THHHHHHHWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKK!" [Mixed pop!] DD: W-w-what?! JR: CHAIRSHOT! WHAT A CHAIRSHOT BY DANE LEVINE! CRANE IS _OUT_! [Levine tosses the chair aside and quickly slingshots himself up to the turnbuckle. Levine leaps off...] "THHHHHHUUUUUUUDDDDDD!" [... and lands with a senton bomb onto Crane's upper body!] JR: RISING STAR SPLASH! COVER! ONE! TWO! THREE! [DING, DING, DING!] AH: Here is your winner... "DYNASTY" DANE LEVINE!!!!!! [Monster heel pop! as Levine gets right up and leaps into the air with a cheer.. but the crowd continues to boo.. for the mammoth behind him!!] JR: PEGASUS!! PEGASUS JUST HOPED THE GUARDRAIL AND IS IN THE RING BEHIND LEVINE!! DD: CARNAGE!! JR: Levine turns.. [TTTTTHHHHHHWWWWWWWAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!! HEEL POP!!!] JR: GOOD GOD WHAT A BOOT TO THE FACE!! HE JUST SENT LEVINE TO THE MAT AND HARD!! DD: But he ain't done, Jake! JR: Pegasus lifting Levine back to his feet.. and Parker starting to come to.. as well as Crane.. but it's Levine now in a standing headscissors.. good god.. DD: He said he was gonna wreak some havoc.. and now he's here to cash it in.. JR: Pegasus about to li-, [BIG POP!!] And Parker just caught him with a spinning heel kick out of nowhere! DD: GAH! [Pegasus almost just shrugs it off as he lets Levine fall to the mat and roll from the ring.. focusing on the youthful Parker who gets back to his feet.. running right towards Pegasus..] JR: NOOOOOOOO!! DD: Clothesline? [CCCLLLLAAAAASSSSPPPP!!] JR: Pegasus just caught him with a chokehold! He lifts!!! [TTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: HUGE CHOKESLAM ON PARKER!! AND NOW THE GIANT HAS HIS SIGHTS SET ON CRANE WHO IS GETTING TO HIS FEET!! DD: Randall Crane was twenty-six. JR: Not funny. [Pegasus stalks towards Crane who stands and turns.. his eyes locking on the seven footer.. but men grinning as they tear towards each other!] [Mega-Pop!] JR: Crane accepting the challenge! Right by Pegasus! Left by Crane! Right by Pegasus! Left by Crane! Right by Peg, ducked! [POP!] And now it's Randall Crane with a flurry of rights! DD: What the hell?! JR: Another right! And another! And another! He's backing the giant all the way across the ring.. he's got Pegasus on the ropes literally as he backs up and charges! DD: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! [Crane right on target with a huge right hand discus punch that catches Pegasus right on the jaw.. ..sending him up and over the top rope.. ..and stumbles to the floor..] [POP!] JR: Good lord!! Crane just cleared the ring of the monster! Pegasus is livid.. he looks ready to explode but he's slowing backing up the aisleway! DD: There will be other nights for revenge.. you can bet your sweet ass! JR: Crane is getting a huge reception from the crowd.. he's eyeing down Pegasus but the big man lives to fight another day! DD: Damn right! JR: Fans.. coming up next.. DD: Up next is a quick interview I did just before we went on air tonight.. I feel for Bobby Ray fans, and you will to! [The words "Earlier Today" appear at the bottom of the screen as Dirk Davidson stands outside the GIW arena, mic in hand...] DD: Hello, you pitiful morons! I'm Dirk Davidson and I'm waiting here outside the GIW arena for the arrival of the "Career Violator" himself, Bobby Ray Wilkins. As you know, that sorry excuse for a human friggin' being "Dirty" Doyle Woodall drunkenly fell out of his filthy trailer back in Las Cruces and made his way to New Orleans, interrupted Bobby Ray's spotlight time, and generally made an ass of himself in front of the sold-out crowd at Nightmare. I'm hoping to get a few words from Mr. Wilkins and... [The camera pans over and catches Bobby Ray Wilkins, dressed in street clothes with a canvas gym bag slung over his shoulder and carrying a cup of coffee, walking towards Davidson...] DD: Mr. Wilkins! Mr. Wilkins! Can I get a few words here? [Wilkins smiles at Davidson and starts to make his way over when suddenly, a beat-up, rusted-out, primered pickup truck rolls up into the parking lot and skids to a stop! Wilkins turns to look at the truck when the driver's door violently open and "Dirty" Doyle Woodall jumps out of the truck, toting a baseball bat!] DD: Get outta here, Bobby! [Wilkins tosses the coffee and takes off in a full dead run with Woodall giving chase!] DDW: Get yer ass back here, Wilkins! [Wilkins blows past Davidson with Woodall gaining, and Davidson steps back as Woodall rushes past him! Wilkins swings the arena door open and runs inside as Woodall throws the bat and hits the closing door!] DDW: Sonuvabitch! What a f[BEEP]in' chicken-s[BEEP]t! [Davidson watches Woodall as he turns and heads back towards his truck. Woodall sees Davidson eye-balling him and stops...] DDW: You got somethin' to say, Davidson? [Davidson is frozen...] DDW: Huh? [Davidson shakes his head and says nothing...] DDW: Cat got yer tongue, boy? That'd be a first, wouldn't it? Well, if ya ain't got nothin' to say, I'll give ya somethin' to say. I want ya to look into that camera right there and tell yer boy Wilkins that the Dirty One _will_ catch his narrow ass pretty damned soon and when he does, the Dirty One's gonna put his boot so far up his ass, his breath's gonna smell like Kiwi polish. [Davidson is still frozen...] DDW: Well? Let's go, son! [Davidson turns to the camera...] DD: Wilkins, the Dirty One will catch yer ass... DDW: Narrow ass. DD: ... yer narrow ass pretty soon, and when he does, the Dirty One's gonna put his boot so far up your ass, your breath's going to smell like... like... DDW: Kiwi polish. DD: Kiwi polish. [Davidson turns to Woodall, who glares at Davidson for a moment, then turns and heads toward his truck. Davidson turns to the camera with a deer-in-the-headlights look as the scene fades to black.] JR: Hah! DD: Hah? Doyle Woodall is a mongoloid. JR: Huh? DD: You heard me. JR: Interesting. Well.. fans.. up next we have a battle between the promising youngster Tommy Ganz.. and the irreputable "Violator" himself.. Bobby Ray Wilkins.. let's hear what they both had to say about tonight's big match.. [We cut to the back to find the "Legendary Career Violator" Bobby Ray Wilkins dressed in a white T-shirt and blue jeans, with a duffel bag over his shoulder. Wilkins' face looks set in stone as he talks to a nameless attendant who looks like he'd rather be somewhere else...] BRW: ...an' everyone knows that Ah am a star here, but Ah ain't gonna risk my health wrestlin' tonight. A: Uh huh. BRW: There's forces beyond our control at work here, son! Ah can't go out there an risk mah life tonight! Ah gotta think about mah future, bawh! A: ...sure. BRW: Now, when ya see the owner of this joint- Ah never have, so good luck- tell 'im Ah had t'leave because things're just too damn weird around here... buncha Haitian voodoo 'r somethin'... A: ...what? BRW: Macumba, bawh! _Voodoo_! Somethin' mah grandaddy used to complain about when he was makin' moonshine back in '56. He said, "When there's no more room in Hell, th'dead'll walk tha earth"... and obviously, there's no more room in hell, because Doyle Woodall's been walkin' round like he was alive again! [Oh boy.] A: ... BRW: Yeah, an' Ah can't be goin' out and riskin' my life 'gainst a damn zombie! That wasn't in mah contract! A: ... BRW: So, yeah... tell 'im that Ah ain't gonna fight no zombie, and Ah'm walkin' out. [Wilkins heads out of the shot, and _finally_, the attendant speaks up.] A: ...but you're scheduled to wrestle Tommy Ganz. [Wilkins sticks his head back in the shot.] BRW: ...who? A: Tommy Ganz, the Deathdealer! BRW: Sh[BLEEP!], he ain't no "Deathdealer"! Only "Deathdealer" around here is yours truly! Where's Johnny Black? Dead! Doyle Woodall? He _was_ dead... now he's back! _Ah_ dish out tha death 'round here... ya know what Ah'm gonna do? Ah'm gonna teach that summabitchin' bastard a lesson! Don't nobody call themselves tha Deathdealer 'round here 'cept me, an' Ah wouldn't even call mahself that because it's a crappy nickname! [Wilkins scratches his chin.] BRW: Ah just gotta figure out how ta stop that damned ghost from ruinin' another night o' mine... hmm... [Wilkins shrugs and heads out of the shot, as the camera cuts away.] [Open on a notable first. Tommy Ganz, sitting on a steel chair in the back, a look of shock on his face. Yes, folks... "Deathdealer" Tommy Ganz is showing _emotion_. Though... not much of it. And it's still the same boring non-backdrop Tommy usually uses. Maybe one day he'll learn that part of the best promos is setting. But for now, we'll take what we can get.] TG: First I'm put in the ring with an inept partner against Dane Levine and Kendrick Lane. I fight my heart out, a one man war basically, and suffer defeat. Nothing to be ashamed of, I suppose, but still not what I wanted. I bust my ass and impress the suits, I guess. So they "reward" me with a match against "The Violater". [Slowly, Tommy shakes his head, that same shocked look etched on his face.] TG: I'm not stupid. I know for a fact that Bobby Ray Wilkins is above and beyond me. They're just feeding me to him to see how I'll do, and to test how mad Bobby Ray is without sacrificing one of their "key talents". Maybe they'll get some sick kind of amusement out of a six foot seven monster tearing into a nineteen year old kid. I wouldn't doubt it, after watching The Nightmare in New Orleans backstage and seeing the devastation that was left in it's wake. [A deep breath.] TG: But I won't satisfy their perverse need to see blood and guts. I'm going to take it to Wilkins like he were Kendrick Lane or Dane Levine, and I'm going to keep sticking and moving. I'll wear him down, and I'll pick him apart. I'm a master at the mat game. I'll utilize it, and I'll capitalize on any and all opportunities I see to take the big man down. They want me to break out chairs and brass knucks. I'm going to bust out chain-wrestling and submissions instead. I'm not playing their game. I'll beat "The Violater" playing _my_ game. [Sudden confidence exudes from Tommy, as he nods... and then breaks down, his hands going into his hands.] TG: Who am I kidding? I'm going to get murdered out there. What in the _hell_ am I going to do? God almighty, what am I going to do? [Back to ringside.] JR: Well, fans.. this one sure has the looks of an interesting match-up to say the least.. DD: If Woodall's ghost doesn't show up and harass poor Bobby Ray! JR: Riiiiiiiiiiiight. DD: Don't mock me! JR: Don't mock me! DD: Gah! JR: Fans.. let's send it over to Anto- [The crowd begins to mutter as the familiar opening chords to the tune "Would" by Alice in Chains blares over the arena sound system. At the beginning of the opening verse, the right entrance curtain is pulled aside, as a tall, scantily clad woman steps out, and stands at the top of the aisleway. The crowd jeers in approval of the woman’s appearance, as she wears nothing more than a silver colored string bikini and a pair of open-toed high heels. Her skin is a fair complexion, and she runs her hands through her long, wavy blonde hair.] # Know meeeeeeeee broken byyyyyy my masterrrrr # # Teach theeeeee our child love hereafterrrrrrr # [A moment before the opening chorus, a fairly tall, dark haired individual steps through the curtains, microphone in hand. Shirtless, he wears a black leather jacket, ripped jeans, black sunglasses, and an old pair of runners. The crowd gives a massive ovation to the sight of the well-built man, or is it for the well-built jigglies of the lady beside him? We may never know.] # Into the flood again # # Same old trip it was baaaaaaaack then # # So I made a big mistake # # Try to see it once my waaaaaaaaaay # [The music dies down. Breathing slowly, but heavily, the figure at the top of the aisleway maintains the arrogant stare on his face.] JR: Dear God! I heard he signed a contract but I thought it was merely speculation! DD: Well, I ain’t gonna complain about Jenna Jameson’s little sister standing at the top of the aisleway.. or so I was told! But this guy is even larger.. creeper in person! JR: My God is he just a monster.. he really is on board.. that’s... that’s... Corey Irons! The Extreme War Machine is coming to the ring!! [The "Extreme War Machine" Corey Irons takes a moment to absorb his surroundings, glancing towards the audience to his left, then to his right. His valet, manager, and long time fuck buddy, Exotica, runs her hands up her smooth, long legs and plays to a group of teenage boys situated behind the side guard railing. Irons raises the mic to his lips, and waits for the crowd to die down.] Corey Irons: It’s funny, y’know. I thought the welcoming committee would be a little more "grand" than this... [Irons gestures to the crowd around him, who greet him with an echoing chorus of boos.] Corey Irons: Yet I walk around backstage, and people give me an awkward glance, wondering about what the deal is with this new kid on the block, walking with his cocky-ass swagger and his Mr. Big Shot attitude. The critics look at me and say: "here’s Corey Irons, a recent top ten finisher in the major polls and the ‘fastest rising star’ in today’s market." They look at me and say that I have "potential", and they’ve recently loaded my pockets with cash so that I can throw myself into the same sellout crowd that walks among the other publicity figures in this game. And I’m loving every minute of it. In today’s wrestling industry, the scene is filled with all sorts of different individuals. For some, the established and retired "legends" of our sport will tell the tales of the past, and leave behind a collection of memories to serve as the cornerstone of this game. [Irons and Exotica slowly begin to make their way down the aisleway.] Corey Irons: And when the old dogs fail to learn new tricks, a new wave of troops marches in, filling the void and fighting amongst one another to see who can become the poster boy of the _today’s_ wrestling world. But then we have our set of prospects. We have our "up and comers", our brand of rookies, if you will. That is, we have our group of guys in their late teens, or early twenties, who put on a pair of wrestling trunks and step into the ring for the first time. We have our blue chippers, with their larger than life egos and their aching desire to prove themselves. We have our young guns, who step through those ropes for the first time, and wind up having a boot driven up their asses and their faces smeared in blood... But then we have _me_... And I’m _NONE_ of that. [Irons makes his way to the ring, circling one side, and making his way up the steel steps.] Corey Irons: Did you expect me to say otherwise? Did you expect me to walk in with some goodie-good salutations, a silly grin, and a stupid sign on my back that says "H-E-L-L-O?" Well, if it were that simple, then I’d have had my ass handed to me by now. Every professional wrestler in this industry had his "dreams" at one time or another. Each man set a goal for himself, and spent years attempting to attain certain standards. Day in, and day out, new faces hit the market. A young rookie would graduate from college, or some well-renowned wrestling institution, before beginning a life of breaking bones, shedding blood, and constantly enduring the agony of scars and bruises. They work hard, at the expense of their physical health and comfort, hoping one day that a certain "Empire" will take notice. They go through years of training, and years of messing around in the bush leagues, hoping that a well-acclaimed independent promotion will offer them a contract. Each man dreams of fame. Each man dreams of rising to the top. Each man dreams of superstardom... ...But not me... [Irons pauses, and smirks before continuing.] Corey Irons: For _five years_, I wrestled in arenas smaller than this one. For five years, I lost blood and battered my body on non-televised events. For five years, I dodged major contract signings, and declined the opportunity to make it big in this game. And for five years, I didn’t give a damn. ‘Cause none of that BS mattered to me... [Irons lowers the mic again, drawing a mixed reaction from the crowd.] Corey Irons: Some men were called "legends". Others were known as "up and comers". Ask any one of those men, and they’ll tell you that it’s both a thrill and an honor to be praised in such a manner. But me? I didn’t care what they called me. It didn’t matter. I didn’t have the same motives as those men. I didn’t share the same passion, desire, or will to succeed. I just showed up, made a few bodies hit the floor, and collected a few hundred bucks after each event. It didn’t matter who was watching, or if a certain "Empire" would be sending its scouts. I wasn’t _trying_ to make it big. I wasn’t _trying_ to make my name hit the roof. I was just a big fish in a small pond. But one day, things changed. Suddenly, Grand Isle Wrestling’s scouts showed up, and realized that this 29-year-old man was wasting his wrestling career in the wrong places, with the wrong salary. They realized that the acquisition of this newly discovered "star" might actually help their promotion. They told me about today’s top wrestlers and big time federations. Out of nowhere, my curiosity piqued, and I took a moment to reflect on life, wondering why I was taking things so slowly. But these men? They made sure I knew who was who in today’s business, and they wanted to see how I matched up. But more importantly... _I_ wanted to see how I matched up. [Irons pauses again, and tugs on the dog tag around his neck.] Corey Irons: I’d read the magazines and newspapers, keeping an occasional watch on whether Chris Courtade or Caleb Temple was winning the rivalry. I’d flip through the pages, and read column after column as to why some bookworm thinks that Devon Case or Alex Martinez will be the Empire’s next champion. I’d shuffle through one article after another, glancing through critics’ views of men such as "Bad Eye" McBaine and Leviticus Nelson. And like I said... I wanted to see how I matched up. And now I’m here. [He smirks, as the crowd begins to mutter.] Corey Irons: So, is _anybody_ back there LISTENING? Does anybody back there want to _come out_ here, and show the new kid around? Does anybody want t-- # ... WHATEVER IT TAAAAAKESSSSS!!!!! ... # [Careful watcha beg for.] JR: What the ... DD: Look! In the crowd! There's a doin's-a-transpirin'! JR: A what? DD: Beats me, sounded good! [Irons peers into a melting pathway through the crowd. And there he stands, tucked into the last row, eliciting a minor, yet devoted and decent response.] DD: Who is THAT? JR: I see the same question is burning in Corey Irons' eyes. [POD's "Whatever It Takes" is makin' all that ruckus. So he points himself toward the ring, carving his own path by punting chairs aside. Irons can do nothing but wait ... or run. Greasy tendrils of dim, sunbleached hair pour to the top of his neck from beneath a black beanie, sinking a little further in back. The sleeves of his dark green/brown flannel shirt peeled to his elbows revealing the white sleeves beneath.] JR: I can't wait to find out the story here. [The stranger brings it over the barricade, to the stairs, and across the apron. He aims a partial smirk toward the fraction of die-hards. It, however, vanishes in the time it takes him to set his eyes on Irons. It's time. He climbs through the cables and scoops a mic off the canvas, now gesturing to kill the tunes.] [Studies Corey, chewing his bottom lip.] Stranger: Corey, is it? [Irons neither confirms or denies.] Stranger: Yessir. That's probably best. [He pours his eyes over Exotica, then back to Irons.] Stranger: Yuh must've been somethin' real pretty where you came from, Corey. Big nuts in a small pond, right? Now yuh come to dip your cajones in the deep end. So, tell me, boy ... how's the water? 'Cause the "Serial Thriller" Billy Rock puttin' some thought into ... [Adjusts his batch.] Billy Rock: ... makin' a splash of his own. JR: "Serial Thriller" Billy Rock! That's household name in Canada! DD: I've heard of him, but never seen him before. Billy Rock: See, I just dove down here from Great North. They scattered dots all over the terrain up there, and I connected every Godd*mn one of 'em. So, really, I got nuttin' left to prove. To _them_. Here's the thing, Corey. The man accountable for the unmitigated fear in your eyes ... Hi. See, that man never intended to be here for that simple pleasure. All I came for was the action, man. The thrills! The chills! The spills! I wanted to see those tag team titles defended. I wanted to see Otto dust a few things off his chest. So, when I arrived, I chased down that trusty sound technician. I slipped him a disc and a ten spot. I says to him ... "If the show hits a snag ... when yuh sense the wheels stop turnin' ... yuh give this a spin and business'll pick up.". And now? Business is boomin'. [POP!] Billy Rock: There are few things I care about in life, and how on _earth_ someone managed to cram Corey Irons into a top ten list doesn't even scrape the bottom of the barrel. But now yuh got the sparkle in your eye. I can see it strugglin' with the fear. Yuh stand here to make a reputation for yourself, am I wrong? Hmm? Think "Corey Irons" is a name we shouldn't waste another day without, do yuh? Yuh think there's a deep, yawning void in our lives that watchin' some twat-rag wring himself all over that squawk stick is gonna plug up? HUH? Hey! Come up for air, man. Pull your head outta Blue's zipper for a minute. Fuck Courtade. Fuck Temple. FEAR the Empire? Please. _Fuck_ the "Empire". And on top of that, just to hit a little closer to home, fuck _McBaine_! [BIG, BIG TIME FACE POP!!!] JR: We here at Grand Isle Wrestling have nothing against the Empire, in fact, we dig the big promotion.. just don't take our talent. DD: Good cover. [POP!] Billy Rock: Screw your head onto _this_. Yuh whipped out a ludicrous challenge, Irons. Yuh slobber on about finally getting a grip on the wheel, but yuh let fate slip. Yuh lost track of the cards, and now yuh got yourself a dangerously close look the last motherfucker on God's green earth that you'd _ever_ want cuttin' your deck. Open challenges don't make yuh famous ... just vulnerable. A fella like me _knows_ what he's after. He picks up the scent and a hunt begins. You? Pssh. Here yuh are, waitin' for it to crawl into your lap. Well I know what I want. [The fans begin to chirp.] "KICK - HIS - ASS!! KICK - HIS - ASS!!" "KICK - HIS - ASS!! KICK - HIS - ASS!!" "KICK - HIS - ASS!! KICK - HIS - ASS!!" Billy Rock: I wanna _dance_, Corey. DD: He wants to what? "KICK - HIS - ASS!! KICK - HIS - ASS!!" "KICK - HIS - ASS!! KICK - HIS - ASS!!" "KICK - HIS - ASS!! KICK - HIS - ASS!!" [Billy drags his finger across the crowd.] Billy Rock: And their playin' our song. "Thunk!" [Billy drops the mic. Irons takes a step forward. Rock answers back. And we're nose to nose.] JR: Billy Rock answering the challenge presented by Corey Irons in spectacular fashion! Both men staring the other down.. you can cut the tension with a knife! DD: Sheeit's about to explode, Jake! JR: And the fans can sense it as everyone is on their feet.. both men jawing at one another as they stand nose to nose.. and look! Security starting to make their way out here just in cas- [BIG POP! as Jake can't even finish the sentence before Irons delivers a monster right to the face of rock.. who quickly launches back.. connecting with a left of his own!!] DD: AND IT'S ON! JR: Security running towards the ring.. but it's on! Big left by Irons! And Rock fires back with a right! Left by Irons! Right by Rock! Left! Right! Left! Right! DD: The fans are going nuts! JR: Both men absolutely laying into the other.. neither giving an inch! [Thud!] And to the mat they go! Both men pounding away at each other on the mat! It's broken down.. these two wanna kill each other! DD: Let 'em! [They roll and punch and kick on the mat as Irons gets on top of Rock.. firing a stiff right to the face before Rock reverses the position and sends a stiff left to the face.. and back to the mat both men go neutral style!] JR: This is insane! Security hitting the ring and trying to pry these two behemoths apart! [The crowd lets loose a mad BOOOOOOOO! as security pulls Rock to the floor.. the other three security keeping Irons in the ring.. both men trying to break free to no avail..] JR: Security has seen enough.. but the fans haven't! They want more! DD: _I_ want more! JR: Security forcefully ushering Rock out of the ringside area going towards the back while the security in the ring now escorting Corey Irons towards the back! DD: Don't let them get too close! JR: Both men.. Corey Irons.. and now Billy Rock.. both are in the Grand Isle and both seem to hate each other's guts already! DD: Gotta hate something in this world.. at least one. JR: Surely. My lord.. what a wild night so far.. DD: Amen to that. JR: Well.. looks like things are almost back to normal.. Irons getting ushering out now and through the entranceway he goes.. I'm sure he'll be looking for Billy Rock.. but we gotta move on to our next match! DD: The Violator! JR: Let's send it over to Hervez for the official introductions.. [Cut to Hervez.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest ees scheduled for one fall.. with a feefteen meenute time leemit.. introducing first.. [Keyboards. For those Faith No More fans in the audience, the song is immediately recognizable; "As The Worm Turns". For those who are not, the song has become attributed to the man whom uses it as his entrance theme. That man? The man who has stepped out from backstage, and stands stoically several feet from said entrance; "Deathdealer" Tommy Ganz.] #One day you're thinking that maybe you're feeling better #And you're probably an OK person, if only you had a job [Tommy, wearing a red singlet with a black anhk emblazoned across the chest, along with matching elbow pads, knee pads, and wrestling boots, makes his way to the ring, looking serious to a fault.] #Through the hollow tombs can see them #Through their mouths I can hear them praying for pain #But it's only a game [Rolling into the ring, Tommy uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet, then shuffles over to his corner, adjusting his elbow and knee pads.] AH: On his way to the ring.. he weighs in tonight at 234 pounds and he hails from Boston, Massachusetts.. here is.. "DEATHDEALER" TOMMY GANZ!!!!!!!!!!! [BIG POP!!] #Listen, man, I know #That things are really rough #And everybody gets you #And life is really tough [One hand is raised, letting the fans know he's ready, which draws a decent pop. Hey, he went head to head with "Classy" Kendrick Lane. He's going to get cheered.] #But I know that deep down inside #There's a feeling that rides #All the way to the end [The music fades, and Tommy knows it's go time.] AH: And his opponent.. ["Atomic Clock" by Monster Magnet begins to blast throughout the venue, as Bobby Ray Wilkins emerges from the back to a chorus of boos. Wilkins stands still for a moment, various complaints streaming from his mouth a mile a minute, as he stalks to the ring, shaking his head and not looking too happy about having to wrestle. Wilkins is dressed in a pair of blue jeans, black cowboy boots, and a black leather vest, and slides the vest off, dropping it on the floor as he enters the ring and heads to the corner, yelling a few more complaints at the crowd as he stares down Ganz.] [Wilkins then motions for Ganz to wait for a moment, as he gets a ring mic from a nearby attendant.] BRW: Hold on, son... wait a minute here, 'cuz there's somethin' Ah gotta do before Ah slap you around this here ring worse than yer daddy did when you was two years old... [There's a heel crowd pop for that, as Wilkins continues...] BRW: A man of mah stature sees many thangs in his life... Ah've seen damn near everythang there is to see in this business, and Ah thought couldn't nothin' surprise me until a ghost walked into tha Nightmare in Nawlin's... Doyle Woodall somehow came back from the dead to haunt me. [Wilkins shakes his head.] BRW: Ah know he's dead! I kilt him an' his career wit' mah own damn Lar'at! How can a dead man walk?! Ah ask you... ...how in the _hail_ can a _dead man_ _walk_?! [Wilkins shrugs, as Ganz looks like he's going to kill him.] BRW: Ah don't know about what you think 'bout all of this, Tommy... but I know one thang. GIW's got some demons runnin' round here! [HEEL CROWD POP!] BRW: What Ah gotta do tonight before this here match, and before the rest of tha show, is cleanse this ring... so, Ah got a nice lil' passage to read that a local pastor gave me... [Wilkins reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a small, clear vial with a cross on it.] BRW: An' right here Ah got some holy water... so we're gonna purify this here ring, and then Ah can kick Tommy Ganz's ass! [Wilkins grins, as he pulls out a sheet of paper, pops the lid off the vial, and begins to read the "passage", splashing "holy water" this here and that...] BRW: In th' name of the Lord Jesus... Ah, Bobby Ray Wilkins, Tha Legendary Career Violator, ask y' t'purge this here sacred ring from the evil of Satan, Bad Eye McBaine, and even Caleb Temple, should his evil spread this damn far from California. [Wilkins pauses.] BRW: Hell, even purge it of Otto's evil, 'cuz he looked at me funny when Ah asked him how he was doin' in the back, but that's small pickin's... what Ah really want ya t'do is purge this here ring from Doyle Woodall's influence, 'cuz it's castin' a bad light on GIW as a whole. Dead men ain't got no place here, Lord! [Wilkins splashes a little "holy water" in a nearby corner.] BRW: Servants of Satan... uh, begone! [Some more "holy water" goes into another corner.] BRW: Begone! ["Holy water" in the middle of the ring now!] BRW: Bego- HAW! [Wilkins splashes "holy water" into Tommy Ganz's face, and Ganz screams in pain... it wasn't holy water at all! Wilkins begins to punch away at Ganz as the bell rings...] ------------------------------------------- Grand Isle Wrestling: Singles Contest!!!!! Bobby Ray Wilkins vs. Tommy Ganz Written By: Chris Buse ------------------------------------------- [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: What the hell?! BRW tossing water in Ganz eyes and then attacking! But Ganz pushes off.. he's rubbing his eyes out and getting ready for war! DD: BRW rules! JR: What?! DD: That was hilarious.. and worthwhile. JR: Give me a break. [Meanwhile...they lock up again, Wilkins whipping Ganz into the ropes. Wilkins sets Ganz up for the ride, but Ganz slides over the back of Wilkins, bouncing back off the ropes. Ganz fires off the ropes, and nails Wilkins in the face with a spinning heel kick, sending Wilkins to the mat.] JR: Ganz is one of the new up and coming stars of this company...he's everything Bobby Ray Wilkins isn't. He's athletic...he's intelligent... DD: You mean...he's not a bad-ass, not cool...and someone that probably plays with himself in front of the mirror...like you. JR: God I hate you. DD: Do not...you love me...your mother loves me...your family loves me...I'm the much cooler side of all things you'd swore you'd never be! JR: Christ shut up. DD: I prefer...Jesus....first name basis...we're close, ya heard?! [Wilkins and Ganz lock up again, Wilkins being takent into the ropes, as Ganz awaits. Ganz leapfrogs over the ducking Wilkins...but Wilkins stops, and as Ganz lands, he snatches the neck of Ganz, and drops him to the ground with a neckbreaker, Ganz's head popping off the mat. Ganz rolls around a tad, as Wilkins begins to lay the boots to 'im.] DD: I told ya! I told the world! JR: Yes...great move by Wilkins...he's allowed the miracle...hell I'm sure you even got laid once without paying for it. [Wilkins continues to lay waste to Ganz in the ring, as Francois attempts to warn the now anger bastard.] JR: Wilkins assaults Ganz with big stomps from his size thirteen...attacking the quicker Ganz...keeping the match on his terms...on his playing field. DD: That's smart...even you can attest to that. JR: Sure that is...if you're a bastard like Wilkins. DD: Now, now...calm down. [Wilkins gets Ganz to his feet, and gets him to the corner, firing right hands. He fires him across the ring, and catches him coming out of the turnbuckle with a belly to belly, Ganz's head snapping against the mat.] DD: _Greeeaaaat_ belly to belly. JR: Wilkins with the high impact on Ganz...who's struggling to get this match off on the right track, after initially starting off pretty damn quickly. Wilkins staggers Ganz back again...as Ganz attempts to get his head on straight... DD: Attempts? He lost that chance, when he entered the damn ring! JR: Wilkins fires Ganz off the ropes...he's going for the lariat... [But Ganz ducks underneath, stunning Wilkins, as he whirls around...] JR: Ganz flies off the ropes! [And as he does, he latches his legs around the arm of Wilkins, stunning the brawler. Ganz rolls over, keeping his arm locked, as Wilkins tumbles with him...the arm lock continued to be in place.] JR: Flying arm cross lock by Ganz! What an amazing move! Wilkins is screaming like mad...he's in pain...Wilkins grabs for the ropes...he gets the ropes, but not before the damage is done! DD: God damn't! He...he...he grabbed his hair! JR: The hell he did...he just spun your guy around, and nearly snapped his arm in two! [Wilkins goes to the outside, and shakes his arm repeatedly, attempting to work off the pain, as Ganz springs off the ropes in the ring, heading towards Wilkins.] JR: Ganz off the ropes...sliding drop kick! Wilkins got sent into a bank of tables near the ring! Wilkins is staggering here! [Ganz immediately heads to the floor, and gets Wilkins back into the ring, where he slides under the bottom rope as well, Wilkins still struggling to get feeling back into his shoulder.] DD: Come on Bobby! JR: Ganz off the ropes... "WHACK!" JR: He just slapped the living hell out of his shoulder...and now Ganz is smiling! DD: Little son of a b-... JR: Quiet now...this is getting good. [Ganz whips Wilkins across the ring, and sends him crashing to the mat with a stiff drop kick to the face of Wilkins. Ganz gets Wilkins upright on the mat, and slides foward, locking on a a Fujiwara arm bar, as Wilkins yet again struggles for the ropes. Closer this time, Wilkins pulls himself closer, finally getting to the rope, and grabbing for his dear life, breaking the hold.] DD: What the hell was that?!? Is that even legal?!? JR: Of course it is...and Ganz is the one that had a true plan. He's working that shoulder over... DD: Taking away the lariat...DAMN HIM! DAMN HIM TO HELL! JR: Ganz fires boots to the shoulder of Wilkins, as Wilkins struggles to his feet. Wilkins gets up...but is met by Ganz... "WHACK!" "WHACK!" "WHACK!" JR: ...vile chops to the chest of Wilkins, who appears to be in serious trouble here. Ganz fires Wilkins across the ring, catching him off the ropes with a running knee lift to the shoulder of Wilkins. DD: Another one! Damn this little prick! JR: And Ganz works that arm over again!.... [Ganz locks on a cross arm breaker...Wilkins in the center of the ring...begins to look for ways out.] DD: Come on Bobby! JR: This might be it...his arm and shoulder have been assaulted by Ganz...this doesn't look good at all! [Wilkins looks for the ropes, and sees nothing...so he does what every good brawler bastard does...he punches Ganz in the face.] DD: YES! JR: That low life prick... DD: Come on Bobby! Bring it back! JR: Ganz has pin pointed Wilkins's shoulder...and he's worked it over all match long...and it's altered the way Wilkins operates... DD: Ganz is a little snarly punk...that's about to get his ass kicked. [The look on Wilkins face shows it all. Filled with pain, yet filled with anger, he gets to his feet, as Ganz does, and immediately fires a right hand, sending Ganz to the mat, as he clutches his shoulder. Wilkins waits, as Ganz gets to his feet. Ganz fires at Wilkins, as Wilkins stomps Ganz in the stomach...] DD: YES! _____________THHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!________________ JR: WICKED DDT BY WILKINS! HERE'S THE COVER! ONE! TWO! THRE... DD: DAMN'T! JR: Kick out by Ganz! Ganz is still in this one, regardless of what you think...Dirk! DD: Come on Bobby! JR: Wilkins gets the feeling back in his shoulder...but he's still hurt...that's obvious. Wilkins fires Ganz off the ropes...he catches him with a big boot to the face, sending Ganz down _hard_. DD: He's getting it back now...he's been pissed off...and that's never good! JR: Wilkins gets Ganz to his feet, and locks him in a front face lock...and hooks his tights...can he hold him for this, Dirk? DD: I'd love to say "Sure!"...but hell if I know...his shoulder's taken some punishment, but he's still got it in the tank... [Wilkins hoists Ganz in the air...setting him up for the brainbuster...but Ganz slides out of it...and locks Wilkins arm around his neck, stretching that shoulder...] JR: CROSSFACE CHICKENWING! WILKINS IS IN TROUBLE AGAIN! DD: DAMN'T! DAMN'T! DAMN'T! [Wilkins struggles...as Ganz doesn't have it locked on all that tight...yet finds the ultimate equalizer...the mule kick, as Ganz hits the mat hard.] DD: As usual! Brilliant scientific reversal by Wilkins! JR: You dolt...he mule kicked Ganz in the nether region...that's not a damn reversal! DD: Does he have the hold locked on? NO! JR: I hate you. [Wilkins struggles, as he shakes his shoulder, as Francois checks on Ganz, who's in pain on the mat. Wilkins winds his shoulder up, and calls for Ganz to get to his feet...] DD: AWWWWWW YEAH! It's comin'! It'sa...comin'! [Suddenly, some motion forms from the audience, as the crowd parts, some cheering slightly.] JR: What in the hell?! [Wilkins suddenly turns around, as Ganz struggles to his feet...and his face tells the whole story. He clutches the rope, and shakes his head, mouthing "NO". He looks to his right, then to his left...as he's clearly in disbelief.] DD: WHAT THE HELL?!? GET THAT IDIOT OUT OF HERE! [Coming through the crowd? The one and only..."Dirty" Doyle Woodall.] JR: WOODALL! WOODALL IS HERE! [Ganz quickly slides behind Wilkins, and rolls Wilkins up...] JR: SCHOOL BOY! WILKINS IS STUNNED! ONE! TWO! THREE!!!!!!!!! [DING!! DING!! DING!!] AH: The winner of the match.. "DEATHDEALER" TOMMY GANZ!!!!!!!!!!!!! [BIG TIME POP!!!] JR: YES!!!!! DD: DAMN THAT MAN! DAMN WOODALL! JR: Wilkins doesn't even care that he lost...he's sliding out of the ring, and hauling ass through the crowd! DD: Gah! JR: Hah! Bobby Ray Wilkins is out of sight.. and Woodall was just smiling! He cost BRW the match, but I don't think he even cares at this point! DD: Whatever. JR: Ganz done celebrating as he's exiting through the curtains.. Woodall giving chase through the crowd.. and up next is a big time contest between the man we just saw.. Doyle Woodall.. his in-ring return against none other than the Ou- [Suddenly...the low, slow harmonica comes over the place, as Ennio Morricone's "Man with a Harmonica" cues over the arena, as out of the back, walks the true _giant_ of this business. He wears baggy black jeans, with large boots, and a single wife beater, barely covering his massive barrel chest. Leviticus Nelson makes his way to the ring, his head lowered, a scowl on his face. A huge pop ensues, as Nelson ignores it all, slowly making his way to the apron, where he mounts the apron, climbing over the top rope, and standing in the center of the ring itself. He grabs a mic from his back pocket...and there stands the giant...] Nelson: Here I stand...the wolf finally heading to his flock...the giant towering over the masses...and yet not a single person blinks...and not a single person takes a step back. [Nelson slowly looks around the ring...shaking his head.] Nelson: Time...after time...the weak have come before me, stood proud and tall...defiantly challenging me...and time after time...they have fallen to their knees...wondering where they went wrong. McBaine? The coward that attacked a man half his size...with half his black heart...he sees me walking down a hall...and turns behind a door. For he's all things, but not stupid. What we did...Bayou...he realized what was his fate, shall he ever cross my path again. Young Ryan Faith? Large mouth...small spine...as I crushed him...without a shred of concern for his well being... Then there was Pegasus... The man that was supposed to prove to the world that he could stare the monster in his eye...and put out his flame. Yet what fate did he suffer? [Nelson slowly nods] Nelson: The same as the rest...the same as the rest. A few weeks back...the man that I once deemed trustworthy...sold me out to two cowards...and lost another chance at glory. It seems that in my only chances to gain glory...lack of heart has thrown myself a wicked curve ball. Brady, everyone's hero...everyone's spineless _bitch_. [The crowd rumbles, as Nelson grits his teeth.] Nelson: Kellan...and whatever the hell his name is...rolling over on _me_? Brady sold _me_ out...he sold out my path of destruction...and destroyed my climb to total domination. For that? Shall I see him again...I shall bury him...next to the rest...for the world to see... [Nelson slowly shakes his head.] Nelson: Across this business...the mark of the beast has changed...for it no longer resides in three numbers...for it resides in this face...in this chilling pair of eyes. For I promise, to each and every one of you...bring your Taylor's...bring your Otto's...bring them all... They shall perish like the rest of the sheep... Blood for blood... Hell hath no fury like the monster scorn... [As Nelson begins to toss the mic down...] DD: What in the hell? [The first guitar riffs of Seven Mary Three's "Cumbersome" crackle out over the Sand Dollar Marina sound system, bringing the crowd to their feet. Nelson, about to leave himself turns with seething anger in his eyes as, from the entrance, emerges one of them many men he mentioned, the _very_ popular Robert Kellan. He is dressed in his ring attire, GIW T-shirt worn over top, baseball cap crowning his brown hair. He pauses in the entrance way, GIW tag title over his shoulder, staring down the monster in the ring. Cracking his neck to one side he quickly makes his way to the ring, ignoring the fanfare he usually returns, sliding under the bottom rope and to his feet. Grabbing a microphone from a ring side official he stops, just a few feet in front of the behemoth, Leviticus Nelson. The two stare one another down, Kellan making the first move.] RK: I'm sitting back there listening to you, Nelson, listening on with...well muted interest. Everyone knows how bad you are. Everyone knows what a monster you are. I've heard it all before... it's plain and simple fact but then something caught my ear. Not you talking about taking out Faith or taking McBaine out or threatening Brady. It was me...my name that caught my ear. [Pointing to himself, he continues to look down Nelson.] RK: It wasn't too long ago when myself and Mash walked out here as dark horses, as the underdogs and faced you and Russ. Everyone..._everyone_ thought it was a foregone conclusion that you were walking out with this... [He taps his prized possession with one hand.] ...but surprise, surprise, _everyone_ was wrong. [The crowd pops as Kellan smiles towards Nelson. He simply stands there, sneering towards the tag champion.] RK: I look at you and I see a seven foot wrecking machine, Nelson. I see a man who should be tearing through everyone in GIW, everyone in the goddamn wrestling world. [He shakes his head.] RK: But seeing and hearing... two different things obviously. You're not doing anything... you're making excuses and that is something I _never_ thought I'd see from you...never. [Again, he shakes his head.] RK: You weren't sold out. You weren't screwed over. You, Leviticus Nelson were beaten... _by us_. [He utters the last part forcefully, intensity washing over him as he steps closer.] RK: You may be seven feet... you may be four hundred pounds... you may be a big damn tree in this forest but Nelson, I can swing a mean axe...and I could use just a little bit more practice. [The crowd roars as Kellan stands in defiance to the monster everyone else cowers before. Nelson steps forward, fists clenched, Kellan not backing down an inch.] RK: Nelson-- [Having enough, the monster erupts with an amazingly fast right hand, staggering Kellan! He follows in, firing away again... and again... and again, planting Kellan hard into the mat! The crowd comes to their feet as Nelson grabs the stunned fan favorite, pulling him to his feet and whipping him towards the ropes. Kellan comes rebounding back, managing to duck under a Nelson swing at the last possible second, coming off the ropes with a running clothesline of his own...one that barely staggers the monster!] DD: The wifebeater is about to get some of his own medicine! JR: But damn him, he's gonna try... and a second clothesline barely does anything! [Shaking his head in disbelief, Nelson barely staggered by the two blows, strikes that would knock down almost anyone else, Kellan backs off and charges, Nelson ducking and throwing him over the ropes! The crowd gasp...and pops as the agile Kellan lands on the apron feet first! The big man turns around, unwitting, thinking his job is done... shocked as Kellan springboards to the top rope and flies with a missile shoulder tackle! This time it affects him, Nelson nearly knocked to his feet!] JR: WHAT A SHOULDER BLOCK! DD: But Nelson still isn't down! JR: He may not be down, but that was damn close, Kellan back up... AND A CLOTHESLINE SENDS NELSON OVER THE ROPES! [BIG POP, Kellan knocking the seven footer to the floor. Nelson lands on his feet, stumbling before catching his balance. Kellan tears off his hat and shirt, yelling at Nelson from the ring, the entire audience on their feet in a frenzy! Security and officials rush out, separating the two as a fired up Kellan stands in the ring, a death glare sent his way from the monster on the floor.] JR: Robert Kellan just stood up to Leviticus Nelson and looked damn good doing so! DD: He's going to look damn good when he is laying in his coffin. No one does that to someone like Nelson and just gets away with it. He better watch himself or he's going to Ryan Faith'ed ten times over. JR: And by God is security working for their wages tonight! DD: No kidding! These guys are out here after every damn match pulling people apart! It's about time this place heated up with pure hatred! JR: Things definitely are breaking down here.. Nelson being ushered out as Kellan opting to go through the crowd as he gets a hellacious ovation! These fans really have taken to Robert Kellan! DD: Which speaks volumes for our fanbase.. a bunch of drunk, overweight, wife beatings trash. JR: That's not very nice. DD: Please, let's get on to the next match.. I'm slightly agitated the wife beater slipped through the hands of the beast.. JR: Both seven footers tasting a bit of their own medicine tonight.. can't wait to see how that pans out.. but now let's take you again to Antonio Hervez for the official introductions of our next contest.. [Cut to Hervez.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest ees scheduled for one fall.. and eet has a twenty meenute time leemit.. introducing first.. ["Back In Black" starts up to a massive heel pop from the GIW faithful for the man they want to love but love to hate. "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor strides through the curtain... in his street clothes. He's wearing exactly what he was earlier in the night when he arrived at the building: black "Absolute Fucking Zero" T-shirt, black jeans, cowboy boots, and the Stetson. He rolls under the bottom rope, ignoring the jeering fans as he snatches the mic away.] BT: Lemme get this straight... I've got a 300 pound monster coming after me. A guy they call "The Teutonic Terror". A guy they call "the German Juggernaut". A guy who back in the day laid waste to absolutely _everyone_ in his path. A guy who no one thought they'd see back in the ring ever again... ... especially in a [BLEEP]hole like this place. [Huge heel pop from the loyal GIW crowd. Taylor smirks... even when pissed off he can have fun.] BT: I've got this big [BLEEPING] beast chasing after me... for a reason I've yet to figure out... ... and the people that run this place decided I had time to wrestle some scrub named... [Taylor pauses... looking at the announcers.] BT: ... what the hell is his name? [A few shouts lets Taylor know who his opponent is.] BT: Right, right. Doyle Woodall. Last I heard, that son of a bitch ran from this company with his tail between his legs... and now he's back wanting to fight the big bad cowboy. Doyle Woodall... frankly... I just don't give a [BLEEP]. [Another huge heel pop goes up.] BT: There may be a lot of people in this company who have the time and desire to brawl all over this sandtrap with you. There may be a lot of people who think that'll make them _someone_. ... but I'm not one of them. I'm _already_ someone, Woodall... and beating you won't do a damn thing for me. So, stick to someone you've got a chance of beating and leave me to wonder what the hell I did to the big Nazi to piss him off. [Taylor pauses, scratching his chin.] BT: Seriously, I've been racking my brain since the big show... what the hell could it have been? I mean... I barely even know the guy... hell, I don't think we've ever even _spoken_ to one another. Maybe it was something with that piece of ass Heidi. [Big heel pop! Taylor smirks at the thought... and you can almost see his mind working if you're over 17.] BT: Nah, never had a chick ask me to drop a load of [BLEEP] on her chest like those German girls like. Although... if I'd ever do it... Heidi'd be the one. [Moving on.] BT: Maybe... maybe it's the fact that he was Double Eye true and true... Portland to the damn bone... and that... well, everyone knows where I come from. Everyone knows where I hang my hat. Maybe it's because we ran those sumbitches out of business... we put them in the ground, buried 'em, and pissed all over their grave. Maybe that's why he's all fired up... one final "crusade" for the choir boy himself. [Taylor nods his head, confident he's found the answer.] BT: Nah... it's the choir boy who had his balls cut off... not Otto. He's not here to do some suit's dirty work. [The Outlaw paces... still trying to come up with an answer. And then... he stops.] BT: No. Please god... no. [Taylor grabs the ropes, hurling his Stetson down to the floor.] BT: Tell me it's not Toronto, you son of a bitch! Please... [BLEEP]... tell me your ass isn't here because of what happened five years ago. Tell me you're not here for... him. [Curious?] BT: Otto... christ... ... tell me you're not here for Hardin. [Deafening pop!] BT: Son of a bitch! That's it! That's it! You're here on some kind of vengeance mission for that ol' fossil that I put in the ground years ago. You want this name I took from him? You think you deserve it? [BLEEP] you, Verhoeven! [Taylor steps out onto the apron.] BT: You want it? Over my dead goddamn body! [He waits..] [Suddenly, the opening riffs of Black Label Society's "Bored To Tears" fill the arena, bringing the fans to their feet!] JR: Here comes the Dirty One! DD: So I smelled. # Tired of this # # Done with that # # Never satisfied with where I'm at # # I sit and think what to do # # Just a motherfucking bore without a clue # [The entrance curtain splits and "Dirty" Doyle Woodall, clad in black boots, baggy blue jeans, and wife-beater T-shirt, steps out onto the ramp, causing the crowd to pop huge!] JR: Listen to this crowd! Can you believe this? DD: Nothing shocks me anymore, Rodgers. # Shot my drugs # # Drank my booze # # Tired of joy and self-abuse # # Eternally jaded through and through # # Just a self-loathing dick without a clue # [Woodall's unruly black hair is pulled back into a pony-tail, and a black patch covers his left eye. Taylor steps back and looks utterly pissed as Woodall continues down the ramp towards the ring!] # Bored to death # # Oh, I'm just bored to tears # # Same old shit just different day and year # # Killed myself but that got boring too # # So beyond the point where it's not true # JR: This is gonna be a good one, Dirk! DD: Are you kidding? Taylor's gonna beat Woodall like a rented mule. [Woodall climbs the ring steps and through the ropes into the ring, staring at Taylor. Woodall walks over towards the announce table and calls for a house mic...] JR: The Dirty One has something to say. DD: You'll have to translate for me, Rodgers, my white-trash is rusty. [A ringside tech tosses Woodall a house mic and his music is cut...] DDW: Let's cut the horse-s[BEEP]t. I thought I made it crystal damned clear back at Nightmare why the Dirty One came back to this stinkin' hole, and it damned sure didn't have nothin' to do with... [Woodall turns and points at Taylor...] DDW: ... you. Don't get me wrong, the Dirty One knows who ya are, Taylor. Hotshot legend with all kinds o' skins on the wall. Held titles all over the world. Mixed it up with all the big names. Believe me, Outlaw, there's almost nothin' the Dirty One would rather do than put yer tired old shoulders down for the one-two-three. But ol' Dee-Dee-Dubya's got some business that's just a little more pressin' than goin' one-on-one with you, and that's squarin' up with that chicken- s[BEEP]t coward Bobby Ray Wilkins. DD: Woodall wants out of this match! What a coward! JR: Let the man finish, Dirk! [Taylor glares at Woodall...] DDW: Don't gimme that stare, Taylor. The Dirty One's got no beef with ya and if ya know what's good for ya, you'll keep it that way. Way I see it, you got more important thangs to tend to yer damned self, so I'd appreciate it if you'd see thangs the Dirty One's way and let me go about my business. There'll be plenty o' time down the road for me and you to lock up. DD: Is Woodall drunk? Taylor just said.. [Taylor stares a hole in Woodall and Woodall glares back, for what seems like an eternity...] DDW: Yer a smart man, Taylor. Don't let nobody tell ya different. [Woodall drops the mic and turns towards the ropes. Taylor stares at Woodall for a moment, then walks up behind him. Taylor grabs Woodall by the shoulder and spins him around, and the two men come face to face...] JR: Something tells me Taylor doesn't see things Woodall's way. DD: Taylor never backs down from a fight, Rodgers. [Woodall and Taylor exchange words, and Woodall turns back to the ropes. Taylor grabs him again and spins him around, and Woodall points a finger in Taylor's face. Taylor slaps Woodall's hand down, and Woodall shakes his head and looks down at the canvas. Suddenly, Woodall shoves Taylor!] JR: Uh oh! It looks like this situation is going south! [Taylor stands his ground and shoves Woodall hard into the ropes! Woodall bounces off the ropes and throws a right hand! Taylor absorbs it and throws a right hand of his own! Suddenly, Taylor and Woodall are standing toe-to-toe, exchanging punches!!] JR: It's on! It's on! Taylor and Woodall! DD: Ring the bell, ref! [The referee calls for the bell as Woodall and Taylor continue throwing haymakers!] ---------------------------------------------------- Grand Isle Wrestling: Doyle Woodall Return Match!!! Doyle Woodall vs. Bobby Taylor Written By: Mike Gilliland ---------------------------------------------------- [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: Both men exchanging punches in the center of the ring.. neither man wanting this fight but their chemistries weren't in tune and now they stand fit to brawl! DD: Their chemistries weren't in tune? What the fizzuck does that mean?! JR: Not sure! Anyhow.. Woodall is backing the Outlaw up with vicious right hands.. [MEGA HEEL POP!!!] DD: BOBBY RAY!!! [That's right.. a very cautious.. very deliberate moving bobby Ray Wilkins appears from the entranceway.. stalking towards the ring.. foolishly trying to look like he's in "stealth-mode". Woodall, however, is so busy with Taylor at the moment that he doesn't see BRW stalking towards the ring..] JR: Good lord.. what a fool! He really does think Woodall is a ghost! DD: HE ISN'T?! JR: Gah! Taylor back on the advantage now as they fight along the farside ropes.. Taylor digging in a kidney punch.. oh and another that staggers Woodall into the ropes.. [THWAP!!!] [THWAP!!!] [THWAP!!!] [THWAP!!!] DD: OUCH! JR: Four rippling chops to the chest of Woodall.. [POP!] but he tosses Taylor into the ropes!! [THWAP!!! THWAP!!! THWAP!!! THWAP!!! BIG POP!!!] JR: And Doyle launching back some vicious knife-edge chops of his own!! Irish whip by Woodall.. reversed by the Outlaw! BRW coming up to the ring apron.. [THUNK!] [MEGA HEEL POP!!] JR: DAMNIT!! BOBBY RAY JUST HIT WOODALL IN THE BACK OF THE SKULL WITH THAT CAST!! WOODALL IS HURT!! HE TURNS AND HIS EYES HAVE JUST LIT UP!!! DD: RUN BOBBY RUN!! [But Bobby Ray seems frozen on the floor below.. as if he's.. well.. seen a ghost. Woodall is about to exit the ring to go after him when BRW points behind him.. prompting Woodall to just turn enough!] [TTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!] [MASSIVE HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!] JR: HUGE RUNNING TEXAS LARIAT BY TAYLOR JUST TURNED WOODALL INSIDE OUT!! DD: HELL YES!! JR: But Taylor isn't going for the pin?! He's looking at bobby Ray.. he's.. smiling? [And then Taylor walks out of the ring.. walking right past a completely shocked BRW who then throws out a MONSTER grin before entering the ring.. looking at a downed Doyle Woodall!] JR: Oh!! This is sick!! Taylor is walking out after getting the assist from BRW, and now Bobby Ray is gonna confront his demon now?! Real big man!! Real big man!! DD: But he's alive, isn't he? Ghosts are frightening. JR: The crowd letting BRW hear it as he's kicking the downed Woodall and yelling out.. what the hell is he yelling?! DD: I think he's saying "GHOST BEGONE! GHOST BEGONE!". HAHAHAHAH!!! JR: This is wrong.. and now BRW is seemingly done with the kick parade.. [Only because Woodall has started to stir.. which has completely freaked poor Bobby Ray.. who leaps over the top rope and stumbles to the floor to a big COMEDY POP!!] JR: Insane. He's gone. DD: He's alive, though! [BRW continues to briskly backpedal out of the entranceway as Woodall gets to his feet.. staggering.. face flushed red with anger..] JR: Woodall getting up now.. and boy does he look pissed off! DD: Bobby Ray is already long gone, m'friend! Long gone! JR: Woodall up and tearing towards the back and you better hope the Violator is gone or he is a dead man! AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. the referee has just announced.. that due to outside interference.. this match has been awarded to.. "DIRTY" DOYLE WOODALL!!! [BIG POP!!!] DD: Bah! You know what time it is? JR: No.. DD: Dirk Davidson's Interview of the Champ Time! JR: Ahhh, goodie. DD: Damn straight.. fans, over a week ago I visited the champion, "Bad Eye" McBaine at the hospital.. and I got quite a bit of odd footage on tape that all must see.. let's take you to that now. [Fade in the sterile white of a hospital hallway. Gurneys line the hallway much like cars do a street, some holding painfully ailing bodies and others containing nothing more than white sheets.] [The camera begins to pan right as we find the GIW’s very own Dirk Davidson decked out in a black and red “GIW” T-shirt and a pair of worn blue jeans. Dirk leans against a nurse’s desk, seemingly involved in a deep, philosophical conversation with a pretty, little nurse as the camera approaches them.] DD: So I was thinking I could be your Fred Flintstone... Nurse: And why would you do that? DD: Cause I could make your Bed Rock! [Dirk flashes her a million dollar smile along with a subtle wink but only receives a roll of the eyes as the nurse focuses her attention back to the work on the clipboard in front of her. Dirk shakes his head and turns to find the camera watching his every move.] DD: We’re not on yet, are we? [The cameraman nods.] DD: Oh SH- I mean, HELLO there GIW fans! This is Dirk Davidson reporting 5 days after the wrestling show to end all wrestling shows... the show that got the GIW BANNED from the WILD and CRAZY city of New Orleans... Nightmare In New Orleans! Being the wondrous reporter and commentator I am, I am here at the "Norlins" hospital in order to get an EXCLUSIVE interview and update with the still reigning champion of the GIW... "Bad Eye" McBaine! [muttering to himself] Let’s see JR try and top this! [Dirk turns back to the nurse’s desk to find that the original nurse he spoke to earlier was now replaced with one at least 7 TIMES the size of the first... and more facial hair than Dirk had himself! On her chest she wears a "Head Nurse" tag.] DD: Um... [The nurse looks up a Dirk for a moment then right back to the clipboard within her hands.] Head Nurse (HN): Whadda ya want? [Dirk stumbles through the first couple of words while tugging at his collar.] DD: Ah... hey.. I’m...I mean my name is Dirk Davidson, color commentator for Grand Isle Wrestling. I know that you’re thinking... you want an autograph, don’t ya? [The head nurse doesn’t look up for even the slightest moment.] HN: Never heard of you. [Dirk lets out a nervous laugh for a moment before continuing.] DD: We are a small organization for right now so I understand but I’m here today in order to see one "Bad Eye" McBaine. What room is he in? [She looks up, a confused look on her face.] HN: Huh? Bad Eye? [Dirk suddenly starts to motion to his own eye.] DD: Yeah, big guy with an eye patch, looked like a big piece of tenderized meat when he was brought here like 5 days ago? [The nurse’s eyes quickly flare up.] HN: That one-eyed PSYCHO who attacked one of our orderlies when he mentioned his first name!?!?! He damn near STRANGLED the poor GIRL with an IV! DD: [nodding] Yeah that sounds like the champ. HN: Damn psycho... they don’t pay us enough to handle this crap! Let me see your ID. DD: But I told you who I was already. HN: Are you part of that psycho’s immediate family? DD: Hell no! Don’t get me wrong, I think he’s the coolest bad ass ever but can you imagine a family gathering with him? He’d put you through a table for eating all the cranberry sauce! [The head nurse drops her head back to the clipboard.] HN: Only immediate family is allowed to see patients in the ICU. DD: But... HN: No ‘Ifs’, ‘Ands’ or ‘Buts’ about it! Only immediate family. DD: Can’t you make an exception this ONE LITTLE time? HN: NO! [With that the nurse drops the clip board, turns around and begins to speak into the phone behind her. Dirk quickly surveys the situation, sees no one else is watching and grabs the clipboard from off of the desk. With that he runs off down the hall with the camera right in tow.] [After a few moments Dirk finds himself standing in front of a door with the number "402" on it. Cautiously he opens the door and slips into the darkened room to find the remnants of a rather large human figure wrapped heavily in white bandages and injected from various angles with needles and tubes. Upon closer inspection, we notice a large black eye patch covering the right eye of the bandaged figure’s face. The other eye stares blankly at the ceiling of the hospital room.] [Another clipboard hanging from the foot of McBaine’s bed catches Dirk’s eye as he quickly snatches it up and skims through it.] DD: Good lord... [The words gradually escape from his parted lips as he whispers gently to the camera.] DD: Dislocated shoulder... Multiple bruises and abrasions... Internal bleeding... Cracked ribs... Dislocated ribs... Severe blood loss... Multiple concussions... Contusions... [Dirk’s flips the chart to a second page as his eyes hungrily scour the injury list. Finally his eyes glance up at the camera.] DD: Damn. No wonder why they’ve got him SO pumped up on drugs! Oh well, time to go earn my exclusive interview... [With that Dirk carefully approaches McBaine, leans over a bit towards his head and speaks to the fallen warrior.] DD: Hey there champ! Dirk Davidson here. I just wanted to see if I could get a little update and interview with the current "King of the Independents" after his wildest match to date? [McBaine only responds with silence, as his eye remains lost in his own visions.] DD: Um... Mr. McBaine sir? [Still nothing.] DD: Hello?? Anyone in there?? [Finally McBaine’s dried lips tenderly crack open as a weakened and fatigued voice is barely heard.] McBaine: Never once... DD: Huh? [McBaine’s tongue peaks out of his mouth for a mere moment in order to moisten his cracked lips.] McBaine: Never once... Even as I brought him upon my shoulder... towering over a teetering world... Never once... as I peered over the edge of the world and decided to condemn us both to a possible lifetime of imprisonment to this miserable bed... Never once... [A single bead of water frees itself from McBaine’s eye and gently crawls down the side of his face.] McBaine: Did he ever beg for _OUR_ mercy... [A look of confusion covers Dirk’s face, as he is not sure what to make of the new situation.] DD: B-But champ, y-you did what you had to do to keep the title! It’s what makes you the greatest bad ass ever! [The bandages covering McBaine’s chest little by little raise and lower in a methodical fashion.] McBaine: I held his carcass, full of life and determination on my shoulders and for one brief moment some unknown force about us quenched the fight within him... An understanding of the claw of fate gripping his neck, perchance.. maybe a realization that one of us had finally crossed a line in our mind that neither of us expected to actually cross... a line which pointed to only one outcome… But... [McBaine pauses for a brief moment, still lost in the hallucinations before him.] McBaine: Never once did he ask for mercy... Never once did he look for compassion... Never once did he try to appeal to the love that inhabits all human souls... But as we took flight to the hell below... [McBaine’s eye closes shut for the first time, apparently burned by the image before it.] McBaine: I did... [McBaine’s good eye opens again but now glazed over in a slick wetness.] McBaine: As I committed our bodies and lives to a world of horrendous suffering at best... my mind called out for the first time in an eternity for mercy from my actions... In that one instant, it all became clear to me... As our bodies sailed to a landing of pain and grief.. my soul called out for a release from what I had become… Something within me broke... And it mattered not that I was the one who had survived... [The water collecting in the corner of McBaine’s eye finally breaks free and streams down his stitched and stubbly cheek. Dirk nervously eyes this ‘new’ McBaine not quite knowing what to say.] DD: Y-you don’t really mean that champ. Yeah you may have gone a little overboard to end the match, but you did it. You won the match... McBaine: All this for a pat upon my broken back and a worthless piece of tin to wrap around my waist? DD: Well-I, ah-You got it all wrong... [Suddenly the door to the room bursts open as the large head nurse from earlier storms into the room with several bulky security guards and a second, petite sized nurse.] HN: There they are! Get them outta here!! [The security guards quickly maul both the Dirk and the cameraman and begin to yank them from the room. During the struggle, the camera falls onto a bed adjacent to McBaine’s bed as the GIW staff is dragged out of the room. Seconds later only the two nurses are left in the room. The head nurse points at McBaine.] HN: Just check on the freak and make sure that those idiots didn’t rile him up anymore. If they did, hit him with a shot of morphine again. One thing I don’t NEED is him up and attacking people again. And grab that camera and get it outta here. Toss it or return it to those jokers, I don’t care. Just get it outta here! [With that the head nurse leaves the petite, raven-haired nurse alone in the room. As soon as she is alone, she gingerly approaches McBaine who is still encompassed by the world within his mind.] Nurse: Um... excuse... Mr. McBaine... [She receives no answer, which prompts her to move closer to him.] Nurse: Ah... Bad Eye, sir? Can you hear me?? [Still no answer. Finally the nurse brings face within inches of McBaine’s. Her deep blue eyes, wide with excitement and wonder, slowly brush over the countless bandages covering what appears to be every inch of his body. She wipes a single jet black bang of hair from her face and tries once more.] Nurse: Trev-ACK!! [Within an instant, McBaine’s free hand wrapped itself around her throat cutting the mentioning of his name. She tries to squirm free but it leads to no success as McBaine, for the first time places his good eye upon her reddening cheeks.] McBaine: Do not pretend that your dictated GENDER can serve to protect you with an excuse... [The deep blue pools of her eyes tremble erratically as the breath fights to free itself from her throat.] Nurse: I-I-I-I’ soooo... Sorry... I j-j-just w-wanted t-ta see if you were... a-alright... [McBaine’s eye hungrily examines the fear etched within her face before abruptly releasing his grip.] McBaine: I haven’t been THAT in a long... long... time... [McBaine’s eye wanders back to the ceiling, while the young woman takes a single step back from the bed, happy to be free physically but seemingly still being gripped mentally.] McBaine: Ages ago... a man looked me dead in the eye and promised to make it all "alright"... And that was moments before he tried to carve my one remaining eye from my face with a bit of glass... [The seconds pass as the young woman nervously sways from side to side. Finally she breaks the silence.] Nurse: That was an _AMAZING_ match! EJ was SOOOOO lucky just to survive it! [McBaine turns his head slightly to face her again, this time the rage replaced with mild surprise.] Nurse: Um... I ah... I’m k-kind of a big fan of yours. [The young woman unexpectedly shakes her head in disgust of her own actions.] Nurse: I’m _soooo_ sorry! I haven’t even introduced myself yet! You must think I’m some kinda freak or something, with me just going on and on abou... [The woman freezes with the realization of her ramblings. She takes a deep breath and moves a couple of strands of her shoulder length black hair from her face.] Nurse: I’m Sierra... Sierra Hayes. [Sierra bites at her lower lip, waiting for some type of acknowledgement from McBaine but is only met with silence.] Sierra: I, ah...I’ve been a fan of yours for a long, long time. I’ve seen all your matches from your times with EMWC to LWC to even the HWF days! [McBaine’s look turns to one of unimpressed boredom. Sensing the turn, Sierra quickly begins to fumble with the buttons of her nurse’s uniform, trying to release them.] Sierra: I-I-I know I may sound pretty... um.. well you know, talking like all this, but I just want you to know that I’m not one of those weirdo fans that stalk wrestlers or anything... I just think that you are like the greatest and most philosophical man living on this very Earth! And that’s why I got all of these... [With her final word, Sierra opens the front of her white nurse’s uniform, revealing a black satin bra cradling her perk breasts but furthermore a physical montage of colors permanently painted into her skin. Her cream-colored canvas held image of all sorts as she anxiously peered down at them, at McBaine and back to them like a child showing off her most prized possession.] Sierra: This here commemorates the time you met Eddie Jacobs in EMWC... [Sierra quickly points to an image of what appears to be a fractured black tire iron encased in glass to the right of her navel. She then moves her finer to the left of her navel and slightly lower to an illustration of four roman pillars, standing together and the word "FOUNDATION" inscribed beneath it.] Sierra: And here is from you Foundation days! And...and here is from your Master of the Ring Title... [Sierra rubs her fingers over the design of a crown right above one of her breast. She then points to a "hanging bull" pictured on her left shoulder.] Sierra: This was your victory over Bram Black and the beginning to your strangle hold over the LWC Championship... beneath it is a barbwire band symbolizing you winning the GIW Championship! And this is my pride and joy... [Giggling lightly with a child-like glee, Sierra drops the upper part of her uniform to her waist and turns her back to expose the ominous vision of a burning coffin.] Sierra: It celebrates your LWC match with Casey James! Even though he robbed you of your championship... I still think it was the GREATEST MATCH EVER!!! [Sierra arches and flexes her back muscles to ensure McBaine can fully appreciate her artwork only to turn back around and find the same, unemotional, removed gaze still there. She rapidly begins to pull up and button her uniform for fear of looking anymore foolish.] Sierra: I’m sorry to bore you...I just thought you’d want to see... McBaine: What? Remnants of more moments in my life that brought me to his captive prison countless times before? Sierra: No...no...I just thought... McBaine: You just thought that adorning your body with the anguished moments of others would possibly play a role in relieving your own miserable existence? Sierra: I...I... [Sierra’s eye begin to quiver, soon followed by her lower lip.] McBaine: _I_ know nothing about you, nor do I EVER care to learn but in the few moments I have been cursed with your presence it has become painfully obvious that you are nothing more than a troubled little girl trying to lose herself in her own flesh... [McBaine’s eye has found its way back to the ceiling as Sierra finishes her buttoning and tenderly removes a needle and a vile from her pocket. A single tear trickles down her face as the sound of a forced confidence is heard hidden in her voice.] Sierra: I know that you’re in a lot of pain right now and with the drugs and all you’re not thinking straight, so you’re saying things that you really don’t mean... [McBaine chuckles lightly to himself.] McBaine: Woman... my condition only serves me with a mild tolerance which has worn quite thin listening to you... Sierra: My name is Sierra, and I would really appreciated it if... McBaine: Your name is of little consequence to me... [Sierra awkwardly tries to swallow the growing lump housed in her throat.] McBaine: Being able to place a name and face with the rantings of a star struck lunatic serves no interest to my life... Sierra: You are not talking like the man I’ve idolized for so long... I know him... I know everything about him... I know my "Bad Eye" McBaine... McBaine: What you know is only of the havoc and torment I have fed the world... a fact that as I lay here now, sickens my soul... You know nothing of the havoc and torment that lives within my heart... and painting yourself like a child in pre-school will not bring an understanding of it... It only symbolizes one thing... you may try to hide from it but the voices of the past will always stay with you calling to you, your TRUE name... [McBaine’s eye slips to the side in order to watch her _expression as the final words are released from his mouth like an eerie fog enveloping its prey.] McBaine: Your true _DERANGED_ name... [Sierra’s lips all of a sudden tighten as a wave of stillness washes over her.] Sierra: I... Am... Not... Crazy... [The words barely escape through her gritted teeth. A devilish grin soon grows across McBaine’s face as he looks back to the ceiling.] McBaine: Of course... that is what we _ALL_ tell ourselves at some point... [Sierra pierces the top of the vile with the needle and begins to extract its clear nectar. An unnatural calmness over takes her voice as she continues.] Sierra: I know that’s not my true hero talking... my McBaine, my blood muffin would see that this very moment was brought to us by fate... fate bringing us together... together because we belong with one another... Two kindred spirits finally rejoined as one... McBaine: I have had enough of your pathetic dribble woman... Leave me be... [Sierra removes the metallic point of the needle from the vile as her nose grasps for a breath through the stuffiness of her sorrow.] Sierra: It will all be okay... I promise that I will take good care of everything, my little blood muffin... [She reaches out to lay a comforting hand upon McBaine’s chest, which he quickly seizes by the wrist.] McBaine: Woman... I have said I am tired of your disturbed games... Sierra: But Trev- [But this time before McBaine can pull her relatively frail body closer to his, she jams the tip of the needle into his shoulder, injecting its contents. In an instant McBaine’s grip on her loosen to the point where she can slide free from him. She rubs her fingers over his face, lingering at his lips.] Sierra: It’s okay Trevor... I promise I’ll take care of everything... I’ve waited long enough for you to finally come to me... After all of those days turned into months, and those months turned into years... After traveling all those miles to see every one of your shows... You finally know my name... [A light smile grows gradually across her face as he deep blue eyes sparkle with the slickness born from tears of joy.] Sierra: And in time... You’ll know just how much I love you... You’ll know just how much I have _ALWAYS_ loved you... [A tear snakes down the side of her face as she leans over and places a kiss on McBaine’s almost lifeless lips. She then slowly pulls away from the bed and approaches the camera. She reaches down, picks it up and seconds later there is nothing...] JR: What the.. DD: I _told_ you that was some must see sheeit! JR: You weren't lying.. for once. What was her name? DD: Sierra.. it's like Kathy Bates from that Stephen King book turned movie.. but hot! JR: Well.. with McBaine's status out of the way, fans.. I have some tough news.. DD: YES!! TELL 'EM THE GOOD NEWS!! JR: Unfortunately the news on City Jack was much worse than we could ever have anticipated.. Rembrandt really worked out his arm at NiNO and.. well.. he's been rehabbing for weeks with little to no avail. The right arm was broken.. and the break was so unclean that he had to have bone chips removed in surgery the same night of NiNO.. DD: Oh, so sad. JR: Shut up. Normally.. he would have had to have at least four weeks recovery.. but Jack has been hinting to the front office that he may just.. well.. retire. DD: YES! JR: I for one hope he changes his mind but.. what happened to his at the hands of Rembrandt would be tough to come back from.. for any man.. even the great City Jack. I really hope we haven't lost one of the biggest names in the short but explosive history of the Grand Isle.. DD: Blah blah.. let's move on. JR: Fans.. up next we have a highly anticipated title defense.. as the new Television champ- DD: REMBRANDT! JR: Yep, Rembrandt.. sets off to face none other than Jaime Roth! DD: His luck runs out tonight. JR: We shall see.. we shall see. But first.. let's hear some comments from our Television champion taken.. well.. I'm not sure when.. DD: ROCK! [Gone is the shaky black and white shot we have gotten accustomed to seeing at the beginning of each Rembrandt promo; the Killer from Kyoto is not hiding out in a basement, the new GIW Television Champion is not camped out in front of some black backdrop. No, today we see Rembrandt sitting out in broad daylight, as shocking as that might be - he's on some beach, sitting with his knees up to his chest, looking out at the Gulf of Mexico. The camera shoots him from the side, from his right, so we can see some of the shoreline in the background - it's a pretty calm day, there isn't much wind, or really much traffic of any kind on the beach save for a dozen or so seagulls. Rembrandt is dressed in a pair of black pants and sandals, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, his hair loosely tied back.] R: Who is Jaime Roth? [He shrugs.] R: They tell me he's my next opponent, but that does not answer my question. The Television Title is going nowhere, I know that much - no man in this business, _no one_ is capable of taking it away from me. City Jack, try as he might, is never going to lay his hands on it again. Jaime Roth? Jaime Roth has absolutely no chance of taking it from me, either. I have fought too long and too hard for this belt; I have left a trail of broken dreams and careers behind me. If Jaime Roth even thinks for an _instant_ that he has even the slightest chance of defeating me, then Mr. Roth needs to be checked into some sort of home for the mentally deranged, because it is _not_ going to happen. Even still, I ask - who is Jaime Roth? [Short pause - he turns away from us, looking at something down the beach for a moment, and then looks straight ahead again.] R: They tell me he's one of the Grand Isle's many up and coming young superstars; that he's just one of the guys who has helped this promotion climb up from the gutter to be considered one of the best shows in town. Furthermore, they tell me that he's an outstanding competitor, and one hell of a guy. They tell me all the things about him that were once said... That were once said about me. GIW pursued me because I was, apparently, the future of this business. They saw what I did in Knoxville, they saw what I did in St. Louis, and they told me what so many others were saying to me at the time - "Rembrandt, you're a fantastic competitor, your intensity is unmatched - come work for us! We'll make you a star!" [He slowly shakes his head.] R: And as I fade into the background, I see Jaime Roth coming forward, and they tell me he's a superstar. Well, well, a bonafide superstar stepping into the ring with yours truly... I feel honored. But again, that doesn't answer my question - who is Jaime Roth? They say he's a talented guy, they say he's a superstar, but I didn't ask what he is - I asked who he is. [ Nod.] R: Who is Jaime Roth? [Another short pause, another wayward glance up the beach.] R: He's just man - nothing more. [A shrug.] R: You have all forgotten one thing - I made my name breaking superstars. I made my name crushing men like Jaime Roth, the supposed brightest and best; exposing their weaknesses, breaking their spirits, and casting them aside. I made my name bursting the overinflated egos of more wrestlers, more "superstars" than I care to remember. In some circles, putting him in the ring against him might be considered a good challenge for _me_, but I assure you, one and all, that while Mr. Roth might be thought of as a driven and noble competitor, he isn't going to look like a superstar when he's being carted off on a stretcher after I _effortlessly_ knock him out. There is no issue over whether or not I can beat Jaime Roth, because the two of you out there who can actually read know, in your heart of hearts, that the only issue in this match is whether or not I decide to break any of his bones. [He nods, and we realize that he most definitely means what he says.] R: Who is Jaime Roth? [A smile.] R: Nothing. [Fade.] DD: Did you hear that Jake?! He's NOTHING! N-O-T-H- JR: I heard him. DD: Good, good. JR: Fans.. let's kick it over to Antonio Hervez for the official introductions to our big Television title match! [Cut to Hervez.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest ees scheduled for one fall.. and eet ees for the GIW TELEVISION TITLE!! [BIG POP!!] Introducing the challenger.. [The crowd comes alive with a big face pop as "Single" by 26 Weeks begins screeching over the PA. As usual, Jamie Roth and Angie emerge from the entrance portal and walk towards the ring. Roth is wearing his usual ring attire. The lovely Angie is dressed in a black halter top and second-skin leather pants, along with a black neckbrace.] AH: On his way to the ring.. he ees accompanied by the lovely Angie [POP!].. he weighs in tonight at 221 pounds.. and he hails from Saint Louis, Missouri.. here is.. JAMIE ROTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [Roth enters the ring to a BIG TIME POP! He starts to warm up.. stretching out as he awaits the champion..] AH: And his opponent.. # WHEN YOU'RE RIPE, YOU'LL BLEED OUT OF CONTROL, YOU'LL BLEED OUT OF CONTROL! # ["Elite" by the Deftones kicks in over the PA system, and the crowd immediately reacts - some of them cheering, others booing. The man known simply as Rembrandt steps through the entranceway and walks down to the ring, not bothering to acknowledge the reaction of the crowd, much less their existence. Dressed in a pair of simple loose black cotton pants, black boots, black gloves, and blue and gold shinpads, Rembrandt is focused solely on the ring. Rembrandt quickly approaches the ringside area, ascends the ringsteps, and enters the ring - shouting an instruction or two at the official, shakes his head, and moves into his corner to complete his prematch warmups. Oh, and he's got that belt slung over his shoulder eliciting big boos!] AH: In the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 240 pounds and he hails from Kyoto, Japan.. he ees the GIW TELEVISION CHAMPION [MEGA-HEEL POP!].. here is.. REMBRANDT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [Another monster hee pop! as he hands the belt over to the ref.. glaring down at the young man from Saint Louis.. both awaiting the bell.] ------------------------------------------------ Grand Isle Wrestling: Television Title Match!!! Rembrandt [c] vs. Jamie Roth Written By: Terry Jue ------------------------------------------------ [DING!! DING!! DING!!] [Roth approaches Rembrandt, but is nailed with a swift kick to the ribs and quickly taken off his feet with a legsweep. A dazed Roth is pulled to his feet and quickly taken down with a snapmare. Rembrandt backs up, aiming for a kick...] DD: Kick his friggin' skull in! JR: Rembrandt with a big kick... [Face pop!] JR: DUCKED! Roth showing amazing flexibility! DD: Damnit! [Taken completely off-balance by Roth's sudden movement, Rembrandt overshoots his kick and stumbles forward, giving Roth ample time to get back to his feet and duck under a defensive high kick from the champion. He shoots behind Rembrandt and catches him with a waistlock...] *THUUUDDD!!!* JR: RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX BY ROTH!!! DD: He dumped Rembrandt on his head! [The crowd's enthusiasm quickly dies down, as they see Rembrandt rise slowly to his feet, a look of defiance in his eyes. Jaime Roth turns around, expecting a downed opponent, but his jaw drops as he sees Rembrandt back on his feet.] JR: No...way. DD: You see that, JR? You see that man??? That's not some fat-ass with dance moves. That's the Killer from Kyoto! [Before Roth can even make his next move, Rembrandt unleashes...] *THWACK!* *THWACK!* *THWAACCKKK!!!* [HUGE HEEL POP!!!] JR: Three devastating kicks by Rembrandt! Roth never stood a chance! DD: You're damn right he never stood a chance! [Roth takes the final kick directly in the head, sending him falling face-first onto the canvas. Rembrandt grabs him by the scruff of the neck and pulls him back to his feet, before throwing him over his head with a belly-to-belly suplex! Heel pop!] DD: He threw the boyscout over his head like he was nothin! JR: Brutal overhead belly-to-belly suplex by Rembrandt! DD: He's not done yet! [Rembrandt then drags a dazed Roth back to his feet, hammerlocking an arm, before grabbing him in a waistlock...] ______THHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!______ [HEEL POP!!!] DD: Booyah! JR: HAMMERLOCK NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!!! ONE!!! TWO!!! KICKOUT!!! [FACE POP!] JR: No! Roth slips a shoulder! DD: Argh! [Both men get back to their feet, Roth clearly the worse of the two. Rembrant grabs Roth and whips him into the ropes. He misses with a back elbow, as Roth ducks and continues running. He rebounds off the opposite ropes and flies, nailing Rembrandt with a flying forearm! FACE POP!] DD: No! JR: Roth's not out of it, yet! He catches Rembrandt with that forearm! [Both men get back to their feet...] *THHHUDDD!* [FACE POP!!!] JR: Running bulldog drives Rembrandt's face into the canvas! DD: Get out of the ring, man! Buy yourself some time! JR: Roth's on a roll, now! He's waiting for Rembrandt to get back to his feet... [Rembrandt gets back up to his feet, completely disoriented. Roth steps off the Kyoto Killer's knee and kicks off, leaping into the air...] ______SMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCKKKK!!!!______ [FACE POP!] DD: HOLY CRAP!!! He almost kicked his head off! JR: Enzuigiri to the back of the head! Rembrandt gets a taste of his own medicine! ONE!!! TWO!!! KICKOUT!!! [Heel pop!] DD: YES!!! In your face! JR: Rembrandt kicks out in the nick of time! [Rembrandt pops back up, only to receive kick to the gut. Roth grabs him into a front facelock and takes him over with a snap suplex! He holds on and nails the Television champion with another snap suplex. Still holding on, Mad gets up a bit slower this time, mustering up all his strength and lifting Rembrandt into the air...] ______THHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!______ [FACE POP!!!] DD: DEAR GOD, MAN! Right on his neck! JR: BRAINBUSTER!!! Cover that man! ONE!!! TWO!!! TH-...KICKOUT!!! [HEEL POP!!!] DD: Hell yeah! Ain't no skinny flippity f[bleep] going to beat Rembrandt! JR: Jaime Roth needs to continue to control the tempo of the match. If he can keep at it like this, he'll stand a good chance of winning! DD: Like hell he will. He'll mess up sooner or later and then...it's game over. [Roth picks Rembrandt back up and attempts to throw him into the ropes. However, the Kyoto native holds on, refusing to budge. Roth counters by pounding on Rembrandt with several stiff shots, clearly frustrated by the champion's resilience. However, Rembrandt blocks one of the punches, responding with a brutally stiff palmstrike to the face! Heel pop!] *SMACK!!!* JR: Shotay by Rembrandt!!! DD: See!? What'd I tell ya? Only an idiot would try to slug it out toe-to-toe with this man! [Rembrandt is relentless with his assault, keeping on Roth and following him, catching him with a flurry of palmstrikes to the head and chest, flattening him with a final, running palmstrike that sends Roth tumbling out of the ring! Rembrandt follows him outside, chasing Angie away from the fallen Roth. He grabs Jaime by the hair and harshly tosses him into the ringsteps...] *CLANK!* [Heel pop!] JR: Rembrandt just tossed Jaime Roth shoulder-first into the ringsteps! DD: Hey...I just thought of something. Maybe he'll break this fool's arm too! Wouldn't that be great? We'd be rid of City Jack *and* Jaime Roth! JR: Oh God, Dirk...don't even give this lunatic any ideas. [Rembrandt throws Roth back into the ring. He takes him down with an ipponzei and begins stomping away at his shoulder. He pulls Roth back to his feet and nails him with a series of short-armed shoulderblocks, softening up his right shoulder. Rembrandt then pulls Roth in, going for a high kick...] JR: NO! Jaime Roth slides underneath that kick! [Holding onto Rembrant's arm, Roth ducks under the kick and appears behind his opponent. He grabs Rembrandt by the tights...] ______THHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!______ [HUGE FACE POP!!!] JR: PUMPHANDLE SUPLEX OUT OF NOWHERE!!! DD: Damn! I'll give Roth credit. For a effeminate girly man, he's doing pretty good in there! JR: Roth whips Rembrandt into the corner... [Face pop!] JR: ...and follows in with a spinning heel kick! Rembrandt's in trouble! DD: Come on man, keep it together! [The momentum carries Roth out of the ring, where he lands safely onto the apron. He grabs Rembrandt by the hair, yanking back, hard enough to pull the champion back and slam him into the canvas. Roth then slingshots himself back into the ring, springboarding himself off the adjacent second rope and flipping through the air, landing onto Rembrandt with a moonsault! HIGH SPOT POP!!!] DD: Great Caesar's Ghost! JR: Amazing moonsault variation by Jaime Roth! DD: Wait...he's going back up top! [Roth leaps onto the top rope and readies himself...] ______THHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!______ [BIG 'OLE FACE POP!!!] DD: WWWWWOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH NELLY! JR: CORKSCREW MOONSAULT!!! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE-...KICKOUT!!! [HUGE HEEL POP!!!] JR: He kicked out! Rembrandt kicked out!!! DD: Yes! Yes! YEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!! JR: Jaime Roth hit Rembrandt with _THREE_ huge moves and the champion absolutely refuses to be pinned! What's it going to take??? DD: Obviously something that Roth doesn't got. [Roth motions for Rembrandt to get back to his feet, kicking at him and berating him with some harsh words. Finally, he just yanks the Television champion back to his feet and throws him out of the ring to some scattered cheers.] JR: Throughout this entire match, it's almost as if we've been watching a completely different person in there. This has been a more aggressive and vicious Jaime Roth. DD: Get real, JR. It's the same punkass kid we've been seeing all throughout his run. You think some a little attitude and some mean looks is going to change the fact Rembrandt's going to cave his damn skull in? JR: It doesn't look like Rembrandt's going to be doing much of anything at this rate. DD: I...hate you. [The St. Louis native leapfrogs over the top rope and to the outside. He grabs Rembrandt and whips him into the guardrail, causing the Kyoto Killer to scream out in pain as back meets steel. Face pop! The crowd then crescendos to a roar as they see...] JR: ROTH HAS A CHAIR!!! DD: Awww s[bleep]... JR: Rembrandt doesn't see him! [And...] *SMACK!* [FACE POP!] JR: Chairshot to the back drives Rembrandt to his knees! DD: Damnit, disqualify this punk! This crap has no place in wrestling! JR: Right, Dirk...and barbwire spidernet death matches do? DD: Hell yes! [Roth screams at Rembrandt to get back to his feet...and the Television champion complies. Roth readies his swing and connects with another chairshot to the back! FACE POP!!] JR: Another chairshot to Rembrandt's back and-...oh man. Crowd: OH!!! [However, this time, Rembrandt stands straight up, absorbing the blow without so much as a flinch. He turns around to face Roth and smirks, wagging his finger in the youngster's face. HEEL POP!] DD: Get the hell outta' there, Roth! Take your slut and get the hell outta' there! JR: He's a machine! A cold, unfeeling machine! How else can you explain this!? He shrugged off that chairshot completely! [Undaunted, Roth swings the chair at Rembrandt once more, only to have him grab the chair out of Roth's hands in mid- swing. Rembrandt holds the chair high over his head, ready to crack it over his adversary's head. However, Roth quickly catches Remy with a kick to the gut, causing him to drop the chair, before grabbing him in a front facelock...] *CLANK!!!* [FACE POP!!!] JR: DDT ON THE CHAIR!!! Jaime Roth's got Rembrandt on the ropes! DD: Gah! [Trying to scramble to his feet as quickly as possible, Roth throws Rembrandt back into the ring and climbs up onto the ring apron. He grabs onto the top rope and pulls himself back in, somersaulting over the ropes and dropping a leg across Rembrandt's throat! BIG FACE POP!!!] JR: Slingshot somersault legdrop! That might be it! DD: No! I still believe in ya', Remy! Kickout! Kickout! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE-...FOOT ON THE ROPES!!! [SHOCKED POP!!!] JR: Roth was less than a second away! He was *this* close to being Television champion! DD: That's as close as he's gonna' get, JR! No way in hell he's walking outta' here champ! [With the crowd firmly behind him, Jaime Roth bends down to pick up Rembrandt. However, the champion suddenly pulls him down, clamping on a fujiwara armbar! Heel pop!!!] JR: FUJIWARA ARMBAR!!! THIS IS THE SAME MOVE HE USED TO BEAT CITY JACK!!! DD: Scream, bitch....scream!!! JR: No! Roth's fighting it! [Roth manages to maneuver himself around, spinning... spinning... around... and around... ...until he finally breaks the hold! Face pop!] JR: He escapes it! Roth broke the hold! DD: Don't look now... *THWAACCKKK!!!* [HEEL POP!] JR: SPIN KICK RIGHT ON THE MONEY!!! Rembrandt caught him as soon as Roth got to his feet! DD: Awwww yeah! JR: Rembrandt dragging Roth up to his feet...TIGER SUPLEX!!! DD: That's gotta' be it! [Rembrandt holds on and bridges as Eli Francois drops down to count the pin. He slaps his hand down on the mat once, twice...] Crowd: OH! JR: NO!!! Only a two count! DD: Damnit! [Rembrandt gets back to his feet, pulling Roth up along with him. He grabs a rear waistlock and heaves...] JR: Release German suple-...Roth lands on his feet!!! [FACE POP!!!] DD: Die, damnit! Just die! JR: Forearm to the back of the head! Roth going for...[HUGE POP!] THE SHOEGAZER!!! DD: Fight out of it!!! Fight it!!! [Jaime Roth attempts to twist himself and Rembrandt around, but he finds resistance, as Rembrandt nails him with a series of elbows. He gets a standing switch, but Roth also goes for a back elbow. However, Rembrandt ducks it and quickly grabs the arm and slams Roth down into the canvas with a single-arm DDT! HEEL POP!!!] JR: Standing switch....Roth with the elbo-...No! Single-arm DDT...into a Cross-armbreaker!!! [HUGE HEEL POP!!!] DD: Tap! Tap you punk! JR: Jaime Roth's trying to fight it, but he's stuck in the middle of the ring with nowhere to go! [The crowd roars, cheering Roth on. Angie pounds on the ring apron, as Jaime takes one look at his valet and tries to fight the pain, attempting to drag himself to the ropes. However, finally, the pain is too great...] [DING!! DING!! DING!!] [HUGE HEEL POP!!!] JR: HE'S TAPPING!!! JAIME ROTH TAPPED OUT!!! DD: YES!!! AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. the winner of the match.. and STILL GIW TELEVISION CHAMPION.. REMBRANDT!!!!!!!!!!!! [MASSIVE HEEL POP!! but not for the outcome so much as for the fact that he's not releasing the hold!] JR: Goddamn it!! This man is a nut! He's not releasing the hold, by God.. he already tapped Rembrandt, what more is there to prove?! DD: He's eliminating a piece of trash! JR: This is horrible.. some- [BIG POP!!!] DD: WHAT?!! JR: JAMISON PARKER!! PARKER IS COMING DOWN TO THE RING!! [Yep.. the brash, green youngster flies down to the ring like a bat out of hell.. hopping onto the apron.. and instantly leaping..] [TTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!] [BIG TIME POP!!!!!!!!!] JR: OH MY!! HUGE SPRINGBOARD LEGDROP ACROSS THE NECK OF REMBRANDT JUST RELEASED THE HOLD!! AND PARKER IS UP AND CHECKING ON ROTH!! DD: HAHAHAHAHAHA!! BUT LOOK AT REMBRANDT!! JR: Good.. Lord. [The crowd is even quite silent as Rembrandt has popped right back up as if he didn't get touched.. glaring evilly at the back of the bent down Parker.. who has no idea what is going on.. yet.] [HEEL POP!!!!] JR: Rembrandt has Parker by the back of the head.. [TTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: OH MY GOD!!! REMBRANDT JUST TOSSED PARKER NECKFIRST ONTO THE MAT WITH A VILE HALF NELSON SUPLEX!! AND HE'S NOT DONE!! DD: THIS RULES!! JR: Rembrandt lifting Parker back to his feet.. this is sick.. the poor kid was just trying to help out a guy who was kind enough to point him in the right direction earlier tonight.. and now he's in the clutches o- [But before Jake can finish.. the crowd let's into a MONSTER, MONSTER FACE POP!! as a guy slides into the ring behind Rembrandt.. chair in tow.. getting back to his feet stomping the chair on the mat as if to get Remmy's attention!] DD: WHAT THE?! JR: IS THAT?! [Remmy turns.. TTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: JEREMY RHODES?! THE SUPREME BEING IS HERE AND HE JUST CAUGHT REMBRANDT FLUSH IN THE SKULL WITH A CHAIRSHOT!! DD: BUT HE'S NOT GOING DOWN!! [Nope, but he did drop Parker.. attention fully on Jeremy Rhodes, in street clothes.. who smiles and winds up again!] [TTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: AND ANOTHER!! AND THAT ONE HAS STAGGERED REMBRANDT BACK INTO THE ROPES!! [TTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!] DD: GOOD CHRIST!!! JR: AND A THIRD SENDS REMBRANDT THROUGH THE ROPES AND TO THE FLOOR!! THE PLACE HAS ABSOLUTELY LOST IT!!! THEY ARE CHEERING ON RHODES!! DD: I hate this guy already! JR: By God, look at Rembrandt! [Yep, the TV champ glares towards the ring.. blood streaming down his face.. but oddly he looks unphased.. menacingly grinning towards Rhodes in the ring.. who holds the chair up to the air to a huge pop!] JR: Rembrandt leaving ringside.. Jeremy Rhodes has sent him packing! And Jaime Roth is recuperating with Angie and Jamison Parker at ringside! DD: This sucks.. who is this guy? JR: Jeremy Rhodes! DD: Musta been in Grizzly Fro- JR: HELL NO! DD: Get that scum out of our rings, man! JR: Rhodes leaving with Roth and Angie and Parker as Rembrandt storms back through the entranceway and man oh man, I'm not sure if Rhodes picked the right guy to defy.. Rembrandt looked truly unstoppable tonight.. DD: Rhodes is a goddamn dead man. JR: Can this night get any hotter though?! Corey Irons.. Billy Rock.. now Jeremy Rhodes?! DD: Screw Jeremy Rhodes, big flamboyant homo.. JR: Huh? DD: You heard me. JR: Fans.. the ring has been cleared and we are just a few minutes from our big main eve- ["Halloween" and strobe lights kick in simultaneously to announce the arrival of Germany's premium athlete.] JR: Here comes the German Juggernaut! DD: Wow, he really is back again. I love my job. [Indeed he is. Otto Verhoeven steps into the aisle to a round of cheers from the crowd. The people are glad to see that the "Butcher" is back in wrestling, but the German is not distracted by the positive fan reaction, as he has a frightening scowl on his face. The massive man, this behemoth, makes his way down to the ring at a determined pace. He is wearing a plain clothes, black jeans and a black sweatshirt. Without missing a beat Otto climbs into the ring via the steps. In the ring, he is handed a mic. The ring announcer quickly moves out of the way as Verhoeven casts a withering glance in his direction. Then, his eyes lock on the camera, eyes that seem to ooze hatred. Then he speaks, in a deep, booming.] OV: Robert Taylor! Outlaw! Victim! [He pauses to let the words sink in.] OV: How did you like it, Taylor? How did you like being manhandled like a child? How did it feel, to have my fingers close around your throat ... [He makes a grasping motion with his right hand, mimicking how he chokes the life out of an imaginary Bobby Taylor. Speaking of.. the crowd erupts in boos as Taylor steps out from behind the entranceway curtain.. looking right at Otto who looks back.. they glare at one another as Otto continues.] OV: ... only to be driven into the mat with a Meathook chokeslam? What did you think when I flung you through the air like a dart and sent you crashing through that table? I am not simply talking about the pain, Taylor. I want you to remember the feeling, how helpless you were when you lay there amidst the rubble, knowing that it took me only moments to turn your great triumph into a agonizing downfall. [Another pause.. as they share a deathly glare at one another.] OV: People wonder why I have chosen this time to return, why I have assaulted you, Taylor, like I did. Nein, this has nothing to do with national pride or the German people or even our past in California. This is personal. [From under his sweatshirt, Otto pulls out a small piece of cloth, neon green, with a red Z imprinted on it and a blotch of red staining the side of it.. he holds it for all, including Taylor, to see.] JR: That is the mask of Gran Dragoneer Z. DD: ... the hell? What has that loser to do with Verhoeven? JR: Let the man explain. OV: Do you remember Gran Dragoneer Z, Taylor? Do you remember how you took him apart in that ring? Do you remember how the paramedics tended to him while you made your way to the back, content to have ended another career? I remember. Because Gran Dragoneer Z was not just another faceless Japanese grappler who appeared and disappeared just like that. Behind that mask was my nephew, Thomas Verhoeven. [Shocked gasp from the crowd.. which turns to booes as Taylor starts to actually chuckle!] OV: The nephew who was encouraged by my success to start wrestling. Despite a lack of talent he tried time and time again to find his place in the world. Last month, he decided that he wanted to succeed without his name ... my name standing in his way. [His rigid stance becomes even more tense.. Taylor still chuckling with glee, oddly.] OV: Now, even one month after you mauled him, Taylor, he is still tied to the hospital bed. My people are trying to find a doctor on the face of the Earth who will tell us that he is not that Thomas will be able to move without a wheelchair. [Another pause.] OV: You crippled him, Taylor. You crippled my brother's son. You crippled a Verhoeven, who only stepped into a wrestling ring because of me. That is why I came to GIW. That is why I had to retaliate. That is why I am _far_ from finished. Your suffering has only just begun. Welcome ... [He only whispers the next few words.] OV: ... to the slaughterhouse. ["Halloween" starts up again as Verhoeven continues to glare at the now slightly hunched over Taylor.. who stands back up and tall.. pointing and laughing at the German monster.. the Teutonic Terror.. the Butcher. Rage filling his eyes unmatched before.. Verhoeven climbs over the top rope and hops to the ground.. charging at Taylor.. Taylor charges as well!] [ROOF-BLOWING POP!!!] JR: HERE COMES VERHOEVEN!! HERE COMES TAYLOR!! BOTH MEN CHARGING DOWN THE AISLE TO MEET EACH OTHER, BY GOD!! DD: KICK HIS ASS, BOBBY! [And to an explosion of cheers they converge midway down the aisleway.. neither man putting up defense as they exchange massive overhand right for massive overhand right!] JR: GOOD GOD!! THESE TWO MONSTERS ARE TEARING AT EACH OTHER WITH NO MERCY!! NOBODY HOLDING BACK AN INCH!! DD: Neither man giving in! JR: Right by Taylor! Right by Otto! Right by Taylor! Right by Otto! Kneelift to the stomach by Taylor.. DD: BUT OTTO SHRUGS IT OFF! WHAT THE?! JR: AND A BIG KNEELIFT BY OTTO.. [Fight Pop!] BUT TAYLOR SHRUGS IT OFF! [The crowd still completely losing it as they both back off.. look at one another.. both sweating and both of their faces beat red from the onslaughts..] JR: What are they doing now? Both men backed off.. DD: Uh.. [POP!] JR: AND AGAIN THEY CONVERGE!!! LEFT BY OTTO!! RIGHT BY TAYLOR!! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! DD: THIS RULES! JR: THIS IS INSANE!! IT'S AS IF NEITHER MAN FEELS THE PUNISHMENT THEY ARE TAKING.. FUELDED BY ANGER.. BY RAGE.. THEY FIGHT ON! [BIG TIME HEEL POP!!] AND HERE COMES SECURITY!! DD: Goddamn these guys.. you have any idea what kind of carnage we would have in total tonight had it not been for these pesky security guards?! JR: Eight! Eight guys trying to pry these two monsters apart.. four men on each and they can barely pry them apart! Both men clawing at the other!! DD: They can't break them fully apart! Who can?! JR: I don't know.. but they must try! [And another small heel pop! as the security team finally completely separates the duo.. both men kicking and yelling curses at the other.. Taylor even spitting in Otto's direction.. as they try to pin Taylor down while pulling Otto to the back..] JR: A complete and total breakdown of a night, fans.. something I hope none have missed because this is truly something to be seen! Taylor is neutralized.. Otto is being pushed out through the entranceway curtain.. and you gotta believe this is far, far, far from over! DD: Gran Dragoneer Z.. was his nephew? JR: Apparently so.. and boy, if Otto has a blood fued with Taylor on his hands.. the days of being even slightly healthy may be numbered for the legendary Outlaw. DD: Bah! Otto Verhoeven isn't all that and a bag of chips! We just saw Taylor hold his own with Otto once.. he can and will do it again! JR: We shall see.. we shall see.. [The camera cuts to the security taking Taylor to the back now.. as he cusses them out.. yelling for Otto.. hurrying through the curtain to the back perhaps in pursuit..] JR: My God.. fans.. up next is our much anticipated Tag Team titles defense.. as the champs.. Robert Kellan and Harisoto Mashima are set to defend the belts against a dangerously crafty team of The Scrayper and Kendrick Lane! DD: Classy! Not to mention The Scrayper.. who has had Mashima's number since the first day he showed up! JR: Let's see what the competitors involved had to say about tonight's big contest.. [Fade into the back part of the Sand Dollar Marina. The water drips off of the pipes that are in dire need of refurbishing onto the floor needs to be redone, but in the middle of the room sits a man with his back to the camera. He sits in a wooden chair, with his head hung low and his arms folded in front of him. The camera begins to spin in the darkened room, and slow the face of the man is revealed. It is Jeremiah Spize, or simply Mr. Spize, his head has been bandaged up and you can see on his hand that it is as well wrapped up. Spize pats away sweat from the part of the brow that isn't wrapped with his black handkerchief.] MS: Alright... I'm here... [The camera focuses on his face, and from an unseen part of the room, a low familiar hiss of a voice speaks up... this of course, is the voice of the Scrayper.] S: Your interference was unexpected Spize... but, I think I made myself clear. Those shots to your head, hopefully, reminded you exactly who you're dealing with.. [Spize seems nervous, and starts to shift in his chair. Spize pats the bandages on his head and says in a stern, defiant voice.] MS: No more, I will have no more part of this! [There is a silence. And that is when two fingerless covered slip over the shoulders of Mr. Spize, stopping him from moving around anymore. Spize now looks a little more terrified than before, but he bites down on his lip and readies himself for just about anything.] S: Spize... if you weren't just a jelly-filled fat man, I might have taken that as an insult. But lately, yes, I have noticed that you've been rebelling more and more against my goals... but I don't think you'll going to disappear just yet. [Spize wipes his brow again with the black handkerchief, from sheer nervousness, Spize sweats bullets.] MS: And why is that? Why should I stay with you? I've been cut, and I've been stapled... I no longer want any part of this. S: Oh, but you will Spize. MS: No more, our pact is over! [Another pause from the Scrayper.] S: Don't think you're doing it for me... you're doing it for Isabelle. [And with that, the jaw of Mr. Spize drops.] MS: How... how... how do you know that name? [There is no response to this.] MS: How do you know that name!? [There is no response, but eventually the low hissing voice of the Scrayper can be heard.] S: Tonight Spize, tonight we remind everyone exactly what I came to this company for. Remember those words? How did they go again Spize? [The Scrayper pushes into the back of Mr. Spize. Hesitantly Mr. Spize starts to speak... he drops his head, though as he begins to slowly speak.] MS: Let them go forth and be the tellers of tales of the worst thing they ever witnessed... let them all seek out the closest ear and talk about a masked man and how he reminds them all of their worst nightmare come to life. [There is a pause from Spize.] S: Is that it? [And again Spize hesitates...] MS: So sayeth, Jeremiah Spize. [And with that, the grip of the Scrayper from around the neck of Mr. Spize disappears as the now broken man sits in his chair with his head hung low... we fade to black.] [A handful of silver-sparkle staples, stained red. The Mashima-san's palm is extended, the small metal prongs cupped on the lines of the tape around his hand. On his face, a strained smile. Grasped in his heavily-taped free hand, fisted tightly, one of two GIW Tag Team Championship belts.] HM: I'll help you here, if you can't see them clearly. [Harisoto tilts his hand from side to side slowly, letting the staples slowly slide across his palm.] HM: Nine. There are nine here. I say "here" because there should be ten. I've misplaced one. These are the staples I pulled out of my skull with tweezers, two weeks ago, standing in the bathroom of my motel room. I tore away paper that was attached to my face and soaked with my blood. Two GIW fans watched. I handed the paper to a ring hand. That was my contract for NiNO - I signed it with my own blood. [Mashima turns his hand over, letting the staples fall silently onto the floor.] HM: Last week, I fufilled my obligations. Jake Cutler paid the price for fing with the Suicide Dragon. With that finished, I'm free to focus on the two things that matter most to me. This... [Hari raises the title belt...] HM: ...and those. [...and points to the floor, to the dropped staples.] HM: So, you can understand why I'm smiling. Tonight, I've been given the opportunity to defend my half of the tag titles against Kendrick Lane... and The Scrayper. Against the bastard child of the Nature Boy and Gigantor and GIW's newest, and some say brightest, addition. Against a man I don't know and a man that put ten staples in my head. [The smile falls.] HM: Lane, I'm doing you a favor and leaving you to my tag team partner. Robert's on top of the world, and I'm sure he'd like nothing more than to continue his dominance by giving you a CLASSY~! ass-kicking. Because I guarantee you this. If you stand between me and him tonight, I will hurt you. I will fing murder you. Not that I think you will. If your match with Levine last week was any indication, you'll be a smart boy and stay out of the way. Which would leave you and me, Scrayper. Through all that's happened, I don't think the two of us have been properly introduced. [Mash extends his hand.] HM: My name's Harisoto Mashima. You can call me Hari or Mash. I'm one half of the GIW Tag Team Champions of the world. I enjoy long walks on the beach, candle-lit dinners, and animals. I'm a Scorpio. I am the physical manifestation of the single worst mistake of your career. They say you're sick in the head. They say you can take a lot of punishment. That's good. That's real good. Tonight, we're going to see just how much punishment you can take. [The Dragon lifts the belt, hoisting it onto his shoulder and patting the main plate.] HM: My name's Harisoto Mashima, the man you stapled ten times in the head. And you're the man that's going to learn the lesson that Jake Cutler learned about laying your hands on me while I manage to successfully defend my tag gold. [Fade out.] [Robert Kellan sits not with the usual happy visage but one of...annoyance. A rare emotion for him indeed but he tries to fight for it, tying his boots, the last remaining piece of his attire to be secured and attached. He pauses, tying the last loop and sitting up on the cold wooden bench he calls a seat at this moment. Wiping strong hands over a young face, he takes a deep breath, exhaling worry and anger, frustration and disappointment.] RK: I did something in New Orleans I never wish I had done. I went against a man I hated. I went against him and damn near killed him. I'm here, making a couple bucks to fee my wife and kid... ...and he's eating through a tube. [He shakes his head, looking down to the floor in shame.] RK: I still haven't been able to talk to my pops. How can I walk up to my father when he just saw me hurt...damn near kill a man. I am a normal man, I am not no superhero...I have my faults. I make my mistakes. I just wonder some times if what I did was just too much. I hated a man so much that I actually tried to kill him. I hurt him to such a point he won't wrestle anymore. Am I proud? [He looks straight up, pointing at his face.] RK: Does this look like a man who is proud? [He shakes his head, his lips pursed in self anger.] RK: But I am also not a man that will wallow in pity. I've seen worse. I've been to hell... [He takes a breath, closing his eyes as he tries to shut away memories he'd rather not have.] RK: But you know what? Like everyone else who was there. Like everyone else who went through hell...I've simply got to come home and get back to where I should be. If I have to redeem myself to do so...I will. I will. Nelson saw tonight what I'm willing to do. I can only stand around so much and watch a man say things that aren't true....say things that aren't meant to be said. I defended my family...and I paid for it..._they_ paid for it. The sleepless nights...the headaches...that still uncomfortable feeling I get sometimes when I think about what happened. But then I think about where I came from. I think about how we got to where we are and that shame in me. That little sliver of darkness...it gets a light shone on it. Whether that light be my son...my beautiful wife...my family...my friends...no matter what something brings me out of it. [He pauses, exhaling once more, seemingly relaxing as he speaks.] RK: But like so many people in this sport, like the cowboys who paved the way for the rest of us...sometimes a guy just has to do things on his own. Sometimes a guy has to figure out things all by himself. It's a long road...but I've got my walking boots on and have some time to spare... [Robert smiles, standing to his full height. He reaches down, pulling on a baseball cap, standing up and continuing.] RK: Through all this...I got commitments and a man never forgets those. He never breaks a promise and he never misses a date. Me and Mash didn't miss our date with Destiny and I ain't about to let this relationship dissolve. [Staring downwards, he gaze fixates upon the shining leather and gold strap that is one half of the GIW Tag Team Championships.] RK: I told Mash that as long as he needed me, as long as we carried those... [He points down towards the strap.] ...I'd be right there for him. I haven't let him down...he hasn't let me down...we got a good thing going. Scrayper...Lane...yeah, you might be together only because everyone else is hurt but don't think for a moment we are taking you lightly or something. Mash still has that staple...he still remembers you sticking him right in his skull. _I_ remember you sticking him straight in the skull. You go and think it is about some personal vendetta. You go think it is some blood feud. Me...Mash...when we put those straps over our shoulders or around our waists it's all about business... ...and it looks like things are picking up. [And he does indeed do that, picking up the strap and lifting it over one massively thick shoulder.] RK: I may not be proud of what I did...but I'll be damned if I am not going to do anything about it. I'll be damned if my lil boy ain't proud of his old man. I'll be damned. [He nods, adjusts the strap and opens the door...disappearing into the dark hallway.] [Fade.] JR: Let's take you over to Antonio Hervez for the official introductions to tonight's big main event.. [Cut to Hervez.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest ees our main event of the evening [Pop!].. and eet ees for the GIW TAG TEAM TITLES! [BIG POP!!] Introducing first.. the challengers.. [A voice rings over the PA system...] Voice: "CLA...CLA...CLA...CLASSY~!" [And with that, "Lowrider" by WAR begins to play as we see "CLASSY~!" Kendrick Lane slowly strutting his way out from behind the curtains. He's wearing a feathered fedora hat along with a sleeveless red sequined robe over his wrestling attire. Bobbing his head to the beat of the song in a completely unrhythmic sort of way, he begins to shake his shoulders and points his fingers furiously as the trumpets blare, grooving towards the ring in a bizarre and foolish looking sort of strut. The crowd begins to boo, because...hell, he looks like a damned fool.] #Take a little trip...# #Take a little trip...# #Take a little trip with meeeee...# [As if he didn't look stupid enough already, Lane stops in front of the ring apron to sing along with his own theme music. With each chorus, he points to a section of the crowd...whom begin to throw bottles and such at him. He pulls off his robe and hands it to the ringside attendant, whips off his hat, and leaps onto the ring apron, where he...strikes a pose. He steps through the ring ropes and struts around the ring some more, snapping his fingers to the beat as the song mercifully...ends.] AH: In the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 256 pounds.. and he hails from Syracuse, New York.. here is.. "CLASSY" KENDRICK LANE!!!!!!!!! [BIG HEEL POP! as Lane jaunts around the ring.. awaiting his partner and the his opponents..] AH: And his partner.. [The lights in the arena go completely black... total darkness. A guitar riff starts off very slowly, it is from Slayer's "Dead Skin Mask" the music continues to play, but what you should be paying attention to is the bright white pale beam that slowly widens near the entrance portal.] # How I've waited for you to come # # I've been here all alone # # Now that you've arrived, please stay awhile # # And I promise I won't keep you long.. # # I'll keep you forever (forever) # [The light beam shows none other than the "Twisted" Mr. Spize standing in the aisle with a rather twisted looking smile on his face. The light shines down on his balding head, as he adjusts the collar to his black jacket and begins to head towards the ring... at a regular pace. As Mr. Spize exits the light, the only light in the arena, soon walking behind him is one figure. The house lights slowly light up as he walks slowly towards the ring. He is the one called "The Scrayper".] # Graze the skin with my finger tips # # The brush of dead cold flesh appeases the means # # Provoking images delicate features so smooth # # A pleasant fragrance in the light of the moon # [The Scrayper wears a long black leather trenchcoat which covers his small frame, it is completely buckled up and sports a couple of rips and tear here and there. But that's not the oddest thing, he wears a pale white mask in the style of Micheal Myers. It is deviod of any human characteristics, except for the white hair which has been fused into the top of the mask.] AH: On his way to the ring.. he is accompanied by Mr. Spize [Heel Pop!].. he weighs in tonight at 180 pounds and he hails from South of Heaven, West of Hell.. here is.. THE SCRAYPER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [BIG TIME HEEL POP!!] # Dance with the dead in my dreams # # Listen to their hallowed screams # # The dead have taken my soul # # Temptation's lost all control # [They make their way to the ring, completely freaking out the crowd as they pass. Mr. Spize pulls the buckles apart quickly, and then removes the coat from the body of the Scrayper. He wears a pair of dark red loose fitted satin pants, this is topped off with a plain white sleeveless T-shirt. His upperarms are covered in scars from all of his wars and his forearms are taped to the bottom of his wrists in white tape... his hands are then covered in fingerless black gloves. The music fades as he climbs into the ring.] AH: And their opponents.. [The opening baseline for 311's "Sick Tight" begins to flow as The Suicide Dragon makes his appearance, beginning to walk the aisle, black leather mask in hand.] ## Head rush! ## [Clad in cuffed black corduroy slacks, ratty black Chuck Taylor All-Star sneakers, and a white tank top shirt featuring the image of a green Asian-style dragon biting down on the end of a double-barreled shotgun, Mashima takes in the fans with a smile. Around his waist, glittering under the dirty lights surrounding the ring, is one of the black-backed GIW Tag Team Championship title belts.] AH: Hailing from Nippon, Japan, at a weight of two hundred and thirty pounds... [Hari slips the mask over his face, adjusting its back - two thick, black elastic bands attached to either side of the leather and criss-crossing one another. Cut square in the eyes and the mouth, the mask has been tooled into the image of Mikaboshi, Japanese war god and fire spirit; a harsh, scowling visage not unlike the stereotypical Asian "Oni".] AH: One half of the GIW Tag Team Champions of the World... The Suicide Dragon... [The Dragon passes his title belt off to the official, patting rubbing it affectionately before loosing his hold....] HAAAAARIIIISOOOOTOOOOOO... MAAAASHIIIMAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! [With that, Mash runs his paces, stretching a bit before leaning against the corner turnbuckle padding in wait...] AH: And his partner.. Cue: Seven Mary Three "Cumbersome] [The crowd comes to their feet as they await the entrance of the up and coming star in Robert Kellan. He hasn't even appeared yet but they are standing...clapping...cheering.] #She calls me Goliath and I wear the David mask# #I guess the stones are coming too fast for her now# #You know I'd like to believe this nervousness will pass# #All the stones that are thrown are building up a wall# #I have become cumbersome to this world# #I have become cumbersome to my girl# [Finally the curtains do part and lo and behold the fans do get that much louder, cheering as the thick form of Robert Kellan comes through the curtain, the intensity, emotion and volume from the crowd shocking him. A large smile creases his face as he starts down the aisle, exchanging high fives and hand shakes with every single fan that reaches out a hand.] #I'd like to believe we could reconcile the past# #Resurrect those bridges with an ancient glance# #But my old stone face can't seem to bring her down# #She remembers bridges, burns them to the ground# #I have become cumbersome to this world# #I have become cumbersome to my girl# AH: From Beaumont Texas, weighin' in at 271lbs...one half of the GIW Tag Team Champions... ROBERT KELLAN! [HUGE FACE POP!] [Kellan is a large, thickly built, young man. Only in his mid/late twenties, he sports a babyface, usually clean shaven, and short cropped, spiked brown hair to go with green-ish eyes. Kellan is quite muscular, obviously a hard worker, with heavily chorded arms and neck, wide shoulders and a thick back. Attractive in a rugged way, Kellan is a hit with the ladies. In the ring Kellan wears a pair of dark blue wrestling shorts with a silver star on the back of them. He also wears silver knee pads, black boots and heavily tapes his hands and wrist in white tape.] #Too heavy too light, # #Too black or too white, # #Too wrong or too right, # #Today or tonight# #Cumbersome# #Too rich or too poor,# #She's wanting me less and I'm wanting her more# #The bitter taste is cumbersome# [Circling the ring in full, he continues the exchange with the fans, _his_ fans, hopping up onto the apron and raising his fists in salute. He sling shots himself into the ring, the smile still there, still big and wide as he removes his baseball cap and T-shirt, warming up and stretching in his corner.] ------------------------------------------------------------------ Grand Isle Wrestling: Main Event! Tag Team Titles Contest!!!!!!! Harisoto Mashima/Robert Kellan [c] vs. The Scrayper/Kendrick Lane Written By: Mike Gilliland ------------------------------------------------------------------ [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: And there's the bell.. as the Scrayper and Robert Kellan exit the ring.. leaving Kendrick Lane and Harisoto Mashima to start this one off.. DD: It's doesn't get much classier than when Kendrick enters the ring! JR: Riiiiiiiight. DD: It doesn't, dingleberry! JR: anyway.. Lane and Mashima to start as they circle each other in the center of the ring.. Lane flashing a smirk at Mash before diving in for the collar and elbow tie-up.. quick armwringer by the self-proclaimed Classiah has Harisoto grimacing and looking for a way out.. DD: No way out! JR: Opting to reverse the hold with an armwringer of his own to the urging of the crowd that contorts Lane's face to a grimace.. Kendrick using his body weight to back Mashima into the ropes.. and uses his strength to push Mash off to the farside in a modified Irish whip attempt.. DD: My Classiah. JR: Mash on the return as Lane jumps forward with a vicious Yakuza kic-, ducked by Harisoto! [Pop!] Lane turns around.. and right into a stiff forearm! And another! And another! Mashima backing Lane all the way into a neutral corner with those ringing forearms!! DD: Cheap! [Mash stops driving the forearms and instead uncorks a vicious short-arm lariat that rattles Lane in the corner.. before grabbing him by the arm and sending him to the farside corner with a thud!] JR: Mashima following up.. handspring!! Backelbo-, no! Lane just hoped onto the turnbuckle.. He hooks Mash in a front facelock! DD: He's gonna try to end it early! A Diamond Dust! Lane jumps and flips! [But as he flips over.. Mash smartly goes with the moment.. and lays down a knee.. in which Lane lands ass first onto!!] [Big Pop!] JR: OH MY! Mashima countered the Diamond Dust with some sort of modified atomic drop and now Lane is hopping around the ring holding his posterior! He's turning to face Mash who leaps.. [Thud! Pop!] and catches Lane square in the face with a spinning heel kick! The quick cover! One!!!! Two!!!! Kickout!! [Not shocked Decent Pop!] DD: Not even close! JR: Far closer than you think, Dirk! A big two count and early. DD: Doesn't matter! [Slap!] JR: Mashima tagging out to the big man from Texas, Robert Kellan.. who gets a big ovation as he enters.. quickly coming over to Lane who is back to a knee.. DD: They gave Lane too much time to recuperate.. now he'll show 'em! JR: Kellan stalking the Classiah.. grabbing him by the hair now as he pushes Lane to the ropes.. Irish whip, reversed by Lane! Kellan off the far ropes as Lane comes out to the center of the ring.. Kellan hopping over a Lane drop down as he goes off the near side.. back again.. Lane leapfr- [THUD!!! POP!!!] DD: YIKES! JR: Robert Kellan turning that leapfrog attempt into a spinning spinebuster! And now he's right back up after planting Lane into the mat.. he's sizing up the downed Classy One as he jumps.. [Thud!] and catches him right between the eyes with an old-school fistdrop! The cover! One!!!! T-[Thud! Heel Pop!] DD: And The Scrayper broke that up quickly with a springboard legdrop across the neck of Kellan.. or back.. it's wasn't quite on target or crisp.. but that's not what Scrayper is about.. JR: That's right.. he's about destruction in any form he can present it! And it broke the pin promptly as he rolls out of the ring.. Mash coming in but Francois pulling him back as Kellan and Lane are both down for the moment. DD: Courtesy of the coolest crazy mofo since.. um.. er.. yeah! [...] [Both legal men are stirring.. Kellan obviously quicker than Lane.. but Lane gets to a knee and is trying to shake the cobwebs loose by the time Kellan gets back up and gets through with a quick scowl at the Scrayper on the ring apron..] JR: Kellan with a handful of Lane's hai-, [Heel Pop!] but Lane with the ever-so-standard equalizer.. the fist to the groin that doubles over the tag champ.. Lane wasting no time sprinting off the ropes.. and back he comes.. [Thud! Heel Pop!] JR: And deposits Kellan to the mat hard with a beautiful swinging neckbreaker! DD: That was the classiest swinging neckbreaker in the business, Jake! JR: Perhaps.. it was quite crisp, I'll give him that.. [Slap!] JR: Uh-oh. DD: The Scrayper is in! JR: Fans, he may only be 190 pounds physically.. but this madman fights like a psychotic 300-pounder.. DD: It pays to be a complete psycho in this business. JR: The Scrayper is hardly fluid.. and hardly technical.. and he's going right at the downed Kellan with stinging boots to the ribs.. to the face.. to the legs.. anywhere on the man's body is his target right now! DD: And that is exactly what makes him so tough to decipher.. he's unpredictable! [That he is.. and the crazy little bastard sits Kellan up.. immediately running off the far ropes as Kellan sits up dazed..] JR: Off the ropes he comes.. [THWACK!! HEEL POP!!!] JR: Good God what a running dropkick square to the face of the then sitting Robert Kellan! The cover! One!!!!!!!!!!! Two!!!!!!!!!!! Kickout!!!!!!! [Big Pop!] JR: Close, but not close enough! DD: Thanks, douche. JR: Bite me. DD: Eh. JR: And the Scrayper wasting no time at all as he's quickly scaling the top rope of the nearby neutral corner.. DD: Blast him Scrayp! JR: He leaps! [And flips.. ..TTTTTTHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!.. ..and MISSES!!] [BIG TIME FACE POP!!!] JR: The Scrayper with a senton bomb but nobody was home!! Robert Kellan rolling away at the last second and now's his chance to get back to his feet! Now's his chance to turn the tables on the Scrayper who is clutching his back but not completely phased! DD: Get up Scrayper! Mashima wants in with bad intentions, do not let that happen! JR: Harisoto Mashima is indeed beside himself on the apron cheering on his partner for the hot tag! Kellan is almost there.. Scrayper starting to make his way to his partner.. [Slap! Big time pop!] JR: AND MASHIMA IS IN! HE'S MAKING A B-LINE FOR THE SCRAYPER WHO DOESN'T SEE HIM! DD: WATCH OUT!! JR: Mashima grabs Scrayper by the back of the he-, no! [HEEL POP!!!] DD: Hell yes! He felt him coming!! The Scrayper has eyes in the back of his head and just back kicked Mashima right in the nuts the instant he felt Mashima bearing down on him! He's got the Japanese punk doubled over.. [Slap!] JR: And he tags Kendrick Lane in! Lane quickly in and circling behind Mashima as he grabs Mashima in a rear waistlock.. SCRYAPER! [SSSSSMMMMMMAAAAAAACCCCCCCKKKKKKK!!] JR: What a superkick by the Scrayp- [TTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!] JR: AND NOW LANE DUMPED MASHIMA ON HIS SKULL WITH A GERMAN SUPLEX!! AND THE BRIDGE!! WHAT A COMBINATION!! ONE!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!! THR-KICKOUT!!! [Whew Close One Pop!] DD: Damnit! I thought they had him! JR: They were a fraction of a second away from becoming the new champions, but Mashima slipped a shoulder out! [And with that, Lane looks at and then admonishes the referee for what he feels was a slow count, as The Scrayper leaves the ring.. dead skin mask and all. Robert Kellan trying to get the crowd behind Mash as he pounds the turnbuckle..] JR: Kendrick Lane done yelling at Francois and now pulling the masked man from Nippon back to his feet.. pushing him into a corner.. DD: Time for electric jab session! JR: Yes indeed.. Lane floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee as he unleashes well timed jabs to the face of the Suicide Dragon.. three.. four.. five.. six.. and now Lane stops as he grabs Mashima by the arm.. Irish whip.. and into the corner goes Mashima.. DD: This match reminds me of that N.E.R.D song "Rock Star"! JR: Huh? DD: It's almost over now! It's almost over now! JR: That... was horrible. DD: I can't be great all the time. JR: Lane following up into the corner now.. with a running clothes-, no! [Pop!] Mashima leaping up.. twisting and coming over the top of Lane! OH MY! Twisting sunset flip out of the corner! Flash pin! One!!!!!!!!! Two!!!!!!!!! Kickout!!!!! [Oh My Close Pop!] DD: GAH!! Too close! JR: Both men quickly up.. Lane unleashes a superkick, but Mashima catches the leg!! He pulls him in! [TTTTTHHHHHUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!] JR: BIG CAPTURE SUPLEX BY THE TAG CHAMP!!! [Slap!] DD: And instead of the pin, he tags out?! Is he insane?! JR: The big man from Texas back into the ring as he and Mashima go over to the downed Lane.. Kellan lifting him.. [And impresses the crowd with some power as he heaves and holds Kendrick Lane over his head.] JR: Big gorilla press by Robert Kellan as Mashima stands beside him.. Kellan drops him forward.. [TTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!] [BIG, BIG TIME POP!!!!!!!!!!!!] DD: GOOD CHRIST!! JR: GORILLA PRESS SLAM INTO AN ACE CRUSHER BY HARISOTO MASHIMA!! THE COVER BY KELLAN!!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THR-SHOULDER UP!!!!!!! [GOOD GOD SHOCKED HEEL POP!!!] DD: He's still alive! JR: I can't believe it!! What resiliency by Kendrick Lane! DD: He needs to tag out and bad! JR: That he does.. but he's in no shape to tag out, and Robert Kellan is in no mood for sympathy as he pulls Lane back to his feet as Mashima exits the ring.. big Irish whip by Kellan as Lane goes off the farside.. [And gets a pretty heel pop as he holds onto the ropes and just hugs them.. exhausted and hoping Kellan just leaves him be.. but Kellan charges..] JR: Kellan with a stinging lar-, no! Lane ducks and flips Kellan up and over the top rope! [BIG POP!] But Kellan landed on the apron! Lane is stumbling out towards the center of the ring thinking he dumped Kellan to the floor.. and boy is he in for quite a surprise as he turns around! DD: GOOD GOD!! WATCH OUT, KENDRICK! JR: Lane turning.. and Kellan grabs the top rope and springboards.. springboard shoulderbl- [TTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MEGA-HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!!] DD: YES!! YES!! YES!! JR: LANE COUNTERED THE SPRINGBOARD SHOULDERBLOCK OUT OF NOWHERE WITH A DDT!!! HE TOOK KELLAN'S OWN MOMENTUM AND DROVE HIM HEADFIRST INTO THE MAT WITH IT!! HE DRAPES A TIRED ARM OVER FOR THE COVER!! DD: NEW CHAMPS!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREEE-KICKOUT!!!!!!! [SHOCKED POP!!!!] DD: GAHDAMN IT!! JR: Yeehaw? DD: Shut up! That slipped! JR: Kendrick Lane fighting exhaustion as he gets back to his feet and lunges.. [Slap! Heel Pop!] DD: And back in comes the Scrayper! JR: And right to the neck of Kellan he goes with a running legdrop.. back up.. another legdrop.. now an elbowdrop.. ruthless assault by the smallish Scrayper.. who is back.. running towards the corner.. DD: Jesus! JR: The Scrayper just scaled the ropes like it was nothing! He leaps.. [And spins.. ..and spins.. ..AND HITS!!] JR: HUGE AND PICTURESQUE 450 SPLASH BY THE SCRAYPER!! He just bounced right off of Kellan who has rolled to his side of the ring.. and to the floor rolls the big man.. Mashima looking down at his partner on the floor.. DD: Don't take your eyes off the Scrayper! [Heel Pop! as Dirk's prediction is right.. as The Scrayper unleashes a running solebutt.. high angled enough to catch Mashima flush in the jaw.. sending him off the apron and to the floor beside his partner and fellow tag team champ!] JR: The tag champs trying to recover on the floor as they are helping each other up.. both also using that guardrail.. The Scrayper seemingly watching them cautiously from the far side of the ring.. DD: He's sizing them up, Jake. JR: You don't think? DD: I know. JR: The tag champs back to their feet.. regaining a breathe.. and by God.. here comes The Scrayper! [He's sprinting towards their side of the ropes.. taking off.. ..he vaults over the top rope using no hands.. ..FLASHBULBS!!!!!!!!!.. ..he spins.. ..and falls down.. ..down.. CCCCCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] DD: HELL YES!! THE SCRAYPER IS GOD!! JR: THE SCRAYPER WITH A HUGE NO HAND CORKSCREW PLANCHA FROM THE RING ONTO THE TAG CHAMPS RECOVERING ON THE FLOOR!!! ALL THREE MEN ARE DOWN ON THE CONCRETE!! INSANE!! DD: The new breed of GIW is here! JR: I sure hope not! DD: And Lane is just looking on with a smile from the apron.. no reason to get his hands bloodied in this.. JR: I bet. [It doesn't take the smallish dead skin masked warrior to stand up amidst the wreckage as he grabs Kellan by the hair.. prompting the big man to move with him towards the ring.. slowly but surely pushing the mammoth Kellan into the ring..] JR: The Scrayper is as quick as a flash as he hops onto the apron.. springboard.. [Thud!] senton right across the chest of Kellan! The cover!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THR-SHOULDER UP!!!!!!! [SHOCKED FACE POP!!!!!!!!!] JR: And again Kellan gets a shoulder up!! What resiliency shown by Kellan now!! DD: And frustration on the fac-, err.. wait! That's not a real face! AHAHAHAHAH!! I love myself! JR: That's disgusting. DD: But true! JR: The Scrayper back to his feet.. taking a last chance to stomp at the downed big man.. [Big POP! as that seems to awaken Kellan into anger as he slowly but surely rises to his feet.. staring a hole through The Scrayper.. who charges..] [THUD!!] JR: What a big boot by Robert Kellan! He absolutely turned the smallish Scrayper inside out! DD: I hate that bastard! JR: Mashima getting back to the apron.. as Kellan heaves Scrayper ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE RING! He wants Lane in.. and Lane.. [HEEL POP!!] he just gave Kellan the finger! [Slap!] DD: And now he's tagged himself in! He's a giant killer.. he's the Classiah.. and he's gonna do it for all his Laneiacs! JR: Good christ. [Both men.. Lane actually not looking intimidated.. as they both converge in the center of the ring.. trading fists as the crowd explodes into excitement!] JR: Left by Kellan! Right by Lane! Left! Right! Left! Right! [Heel Pop!] And Lane with a rake of the eyes backs the tag champion up.. Lane hooking him in from the side.. [Thud!] and delivers a textbook Russian legsweep! DD: Classy! JR: And Lane right back up.. and he's.. pointing to the top rope?! DD: That's right! Time for Lane to go aerial suicida! JR: I highly doubt that.. but Lane is going to the turnbuckle as he starts his slow.. but steady ascent towards the top turnbuckle.. DD: It's over baby! [Lane scales the top rope.. not wasting any more time as he spots the downed Robert Kellan.. he leaps..] JR: FLYING KNEEDROP!! [TTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!] [BIG FACE POP!!!!!!!!!] JR: BUT KELLAN WAS PLAYING POSSUM!! LANE LANDED RIGHT ON HIS KNEE!! KELLAN DIVES.. [Slap!] [Big Pop!] JR: AND MASHIMA IS IN! HE'S GOING FOR BROKE!! HE LIFTS LANE OFF THE CANVAS WHILE KELLAN IS BACK T HIS FEET PROVIDING COVER!! FRONT FACELOCK.. HE GRABS LANE BY THE LEG.. HE LIFTS.. [TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MONSTER, MONSTER POP!!!!!!!!!!!!] DD: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! JR: HUGE, HUGE, HUGE FISHERMAN'S BUSTER BY MASHIMA!! HE MAKES THE COVER.. AND THE SCRAYPER ISN'T EVEN MAKING AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE AS HE'S DROPPED OFF THE APRON!! THE COUNT!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: YES! YES! YES! DD: NO!! NO!! NO!! AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. the winners of the match.. and STILL YOUR GIW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS.. HARISOTO MASHIMA.. AND ROBERT KELLAN!!!!!!!!!! [MONSTER, MONSTER FACE POP!! once more as Mashima wastes no time rolling to the floor where we last saw Scrayper.. who is now ducking and looking under the ring for something..] JR: The tag champs are successful.. but Mashima is not done! He wants the Scrayper in the worst of ways! And he's trying to get to him before Scrayper conjures up whatever he is looking for! DD: Hurry up Scrayp! JR: He turns the corner.. and the Scrayper is backing out from under the ring.. he's back to a knee as Mashima charges.. [But the Scrayper sees him coming.. jumping up.. showing off what he was searching for..] DD: STAPLEGUN!!! JR: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! [But Mashima can't stop his momentum.. only able to puts his hands up as Scrayper pulls up the gun.. CCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!! CCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!! CCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!] [MEGA-HEEL POP!!!] JR: MY GOD!!! THREE QUICK STAPLEGUN SHOTS WITH THE GUN AIMED RIGHT AT THE MASK OF MASHIMA!!! I'M NOT SURE IF HE TOOK THEM IN THE HANDS OR NOT.. BUT EITHER WAY HE HAS BENT DOWN AND IS IN OBVIOUS PAIN!! DD: THE SCRAYPER RULES!! JR: Mashima is hurt, and hurt bad.. or so he appears as the Scrayper drops the staplegun and turns to leave his "work in progress" to live in agonizing pa- [MASSIVE FACE POP!] JR: Mashima just jumps out at The Scrayper.. he spins him around.. kick to the stomach by the Suicide Dragon! [He then puts the Scrayper in a standing headscissors.. taking a brief moment to show the crowd the staples piercing the skin of his hand.. blood streaming from it.. before double underhooking Scrayper's arms..] DD: GOOD GOD NO!!!! JR: MASHIMA LIFTS ON THE CONCRETE!! [TTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] ["G-I-W!! G-I-W!!"] ["G-I-W!! G-I-W!!"] ["G-I-W!! G-I-W!!"] ["G-I-W!! G-I-W!!"] JR: HOLY CHRIST!!! THE BILLION DRAGON BOMB ON THE CONCRETE!!! THAT DEVASTATING TIGER DRIVER JUST WASTED THE SCRAYPER ON THE OUTSIDE!! DD: This man is sick.. Mashima is a lunatic! JR: He's fed up.. he's gotten his redemption.. his sweet reveng- [But before Jake can finish the crowd absolutely loses it.. and not for Mashima.. but for the Scrayper who turns onto his face and pushes himself up to a knee.. the Suicide Dragon standing with his hands on his hips.. a definite look of shock under that mask, that is for sure. The Scrayper has blood streaming down the sides of his mask.. and is definitely wobbling but.. well..] JR: No way. DD: God, Jake.. he's a god. JR: I can't believe this. DD: and neither can Mashima.. believe you me. JR: And here comes Mash as the Scrayper is unbelievably back to his feet.. big knee to the stomach doubles over Scrayper again.. and now Mashima is dragging him towards the apron.. climbing onto it as he pulls the Scrayper up as well.. you don't think.. DD: I absolutely hope not! JR: He is?! Mashima setting The Scrayper back in that standing headscissors.. on the apron.. DD: DON'T DO IT!! JR: DOUBLE UNDERHOOK!!! HE LIFTS!! AND LEAPS!! [As they go down.. ..down.. ..down.. TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] JR: HOLY SHI- DD: JAKE!! THAT WAS GODDAMN SICK!! JR: FANS.. HARISOTO MASHIMA MAY HAVE GONE TOO FAR!! HE'S JUST BILLION DRAGON BOMBED THE SCRAYPER OFF THE APRON AND TO THE CONCRETE FLOOR!! HE COULD HAVE KILLED THE MAN!! THIS IS SICK!! BOTH MEN ARE DOWN.. PARAMEDICS ARE RUSHING TO THE SCENE.. AND WE GOTTA GO!! DD: WHAT?! JR: SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS!! DD: GOOD LORD! [The camera fades out to the eerie scene of both men laid out on the concrete below.. Mashima moving.. but the Scrayper.. well.. he's not.] Grand Isle Wrestling 2002