[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.. and then we fade into a room inside a vacant house. Inside that room, we see the monster himself, sitting, in a corner, slumped on the ground. His long hair is draped across his face, covering his menacing hateful eyes, as he taps his fingers across his massive knees. He lowers his head, covering most of his body with the hair off his head. He slowly raises his head, shaking it side to side, cracking an eery smile, as he looks around the room. The room is very dimly lit, only by a few candles, and the moonlight. For he's alone, as always, the only way he would ever want it. He is the true monster, the true giant, the true unstoppable force...Leviticus Nelson.] Nelson: Children play all the time. They play with each other, or alone in the peacefulness of their own home. They play with toys, with their imagination, with anything that their little minds craft. Then they grow old, and suddenly find the need to fill their minds yet again. They fill their minds with marriage...with commitment...with religion. All of their sins are suddenly forgiven, as they've sought redemption, sought retribution...sought afterlife comfort. [Nelson smirks.] Nelson: Is that what you're aiming for, Kellan? Some sort of mission from a higher spirit? Some sort of mission for the "fans", to show them that "size doesn't matter"? What, shall you claim that heart is more important then size? That courage isn't measured with vital statistics, but rather with actions and determination? [Nelson chuckles slightly, as he slides his forearms and hands over his knees, looking directly into the camera, the moonlight shinning off his face.] Nelson: You're the American dream, Kellan, you really are. Wife, a family, probably even have a picket fenced laced home. All of that in hopes that you'll live a "good life". Know what Robert? I've yet to live a good life. I've got the wicked sensation of hearing the cries of the man that I killed, in my dreams. I hear him, I hear his wife...his kids...his family, all crying, all hoping what I did never happened. I sleep in someplace in which harmony and peace do not call "home". No picket fence lines my home... But rather the fires of the place I shall soon call home... 'Cause Robert? I don't seek the respect of others through bravery and "courage". I don't seek the admiration of my family through standing tall in the face of adversity, and spitting on fear. Me? I just stand before the world, looking down upon it...slowly hating every last inch of it. I stand to be employed by this company...the same company that once viewed me as the Messiah, as the second coming. Now? Now I'm relegated to what I have before me this week. A joke...a mere joke. [Nelson slowly gets up, his massive figure covering the entire screen.] Nelson: Some contorted "team" that I must be a part of. Some "team" that I must face. Ironic, isn't it? The only single warrior in the history of this company, and the history of this business. A part of a team? A part of some sort of cohesive unit? Children playing games together, for the amusement of the adults who watch. No more games...no more team...no more waiting... Robert, you've been toyed with quite long enough. Robert? You've been kept in the corner, kept alive, kept waiting...no more. Your attempts at bravery, at respect, at honor have fallen to the wayside. Your attempts to prove to the world...to your family...that you're the man you once claimed you were...have failed. For the monster hasn't run away, tail tucked...for he's been in the corner...sitting...waiting...praying that this time would come. And now it has, my son. [Nelson looks out, and up, towards the moonlight that covers his face, almost as if towards the heavens.] Nelson: My son...it's time to meet your father, your maker, and it's time for me to expedite that path, that journey. You've scaved off salvation long enough, you've dodged the sickle of the reaper for the last time. No more wicked smiles, no more glares in your direction, as you childishly look "angry" and "mean". No more... No more. It'll all come to an end soon Robert. You're failed attempts to make a name at my expense, to make your family proud...to be a shinning example to your putrid little family...they've all come to an end. For now...now it's time to make that walk Robert... That walk that I shall lead you on... [Nelson turns back to the camera.] Nelson: The walk to your maker...and to the afterlife. [Nelson glares, as the camera fades.] [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 Billy Rock.. Harisoto Mashima.. Robert Kellan.. Otto Verhoeven.. Jamison Parker.. Jaime Roth.. The Scrayper and Corey Irons..] #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou;# #Born On The Bayou.# [Flashes of the faces of Dane Levine.. Tommy Ganz.. Kendrick Lane.. City Jack.. Doyle Woodall.. Bobby Ray Wilkins.. Jack Porter.. Leviticus Nelson.. Rembrandt.. 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 Spetember 9th, 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 250-300 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: As always.. I'm your host Jacob Rodgers.. and alongside me is the budding best color commentator in the business.. Dirk Davidson! DD: And.. I had sex with your sister! [Booooo!] JR: She's been dead for ten ye-.. don't. DD: Heh. JR: Anyway fans.. what a big night of action we have in store for you! Two titles are on the line tonight as we have six monster matches to give to you! [POP!!] DD: And a helluva main event I must say! JR: In the main event.. the Heavyweight Tag Team titles will be on the line as the champs.. Robert Kellan [POP!] and Harisoto Mashima [POP!] set off to defend their belts against the dangerous and unpredictable duo of The Scrayper [BOOOO!!] and Leviticus Nelson!! [MONSTER MIXED POP!!] DD: Tonight the belts finally change hands for the better! Down with the Wifebeater! [Boo!] JR: Not that nonsense again. DD: Damn rights. JR: Also in action.. Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven [BIG POP!!] sets his sights off of Bobby Taylor and onto "The Extreme War Machine" Corey Irons! [Booo!] DD: That'll be one helluva good fight. Not much of a wrestling match.. but one hell of a brawl. JR: Amen to that. The Television title is on the line tonight.. DD: And will be defended successfully! JR: ..as the TV champ Rembrandt [BOOO!] faces off one on one against "Serial Thriller" Billy Rock!! [POP!!] DD: The gay porn star is gonna get fizzucked up hardcore! JR: Hardcore? DD: Well, not _that_ hardcore.. the physical violence type. JR: Whew, ok. Also.. "Suicide" Jack Porter [Boo!] sets his sights on the Grand Isle vet Jamie Roth! [BIG POP!!] DD: Roth is starting to get a tad edgier, but it won't be enough tonight as Porter wipes the floor with his bloody carcass! JR: We shall see about that in just a bit. Also on deck.. the debut of the Gamma Dog.. Adam Donovan [Mixed Pop!] as he must face the equally dangerous "Supreme Being" Jeremy Rhodes! [BIG POP!!] DD: He's becoming an annoying pest already, hopefully the Gamma Dog will eradicate that problem. JR: And to open the night off.. we have a big contest between two young superstars in the making! DD: Riiiiiiiight. JR: Jamison Parker and the "Deathdealer" Tommy Ganz set off toe to toe! [BIG POP!!] DD: Welcome to hell. JR: So, while we move out of this ring and prepare for that big opening contest.. let's hear some pre-recorded words from Ganz and Parker about tonight's contest. [Cut backstage, where we see a shirtless "Deathdealer" Tommy Ganz, his right arm in a sling. Tommy stands in front of an open-faced locker, his "I Tamed The Pegasus" T-shirt hanging inside. He turns his neck to one side, cracking it, then to the other, another crack heard. Finally, gingerly, Tommy slides the sling off his arm, and tosses it into the locker. Underneath the sling, Tommy's arm is wrapped tightly in heavy white bandages. He rests it against his stomach, looking down on it.] TG: I should probably be bitter. Going into a big match, with very high expectations, and a title on the line. Coming out of that big match with your arm hanging limp by your side, pain coursing through it, and nothing more than an "L" on your record to show for it. But hell, I gotta say "thanks". [Upwards glance, eyes locked on the camera.] TG: Thanks to Rembrandt for helping me prove that good old-fashioned mat wrestling isn't dead, and if done right, is just as exciting as a bloodbath. Thanks to the promoters for giving me the shot in the first place, when they could have easily given it to a more deserving contender. And thanks to the fans, in the arena and at home, for watching two men put on a wrestling clinic. [Rubbing his injured arm with his left hand, Tommy winces. He looks back down at it, and shakes his head.] TG: We didn't need any tables. We didn't need any chairs. Yet many people are calling that outing one of the best matches the GIW has presented. But maybe the tables and the chairs would have been better. Because now I have a problem. [Looking up at the camera, Tommy grits his teeth, then lifts his injured arm as high as he can.] TG: I have to wrestle with this. An injured right arm. If a chair had caught me across the temple? I might have been busted open. Might have bled all over the ring. But open-wounds can be stitched. They're relatively easy to recover from. If my body had crashed through a table, my back would be killing me. But that wouldn't take away any of the weapons I bring to the table. That wouldn't have forced me to change how I wrestled. But my arm? [Tommy shakes it, putting emphasis behind the injury.] TG: How am I going to wrestle with one arm? And against Jamison Parker, a guy who's just as capable of winning as Rembrandt did? Oh, I know what you're saying. I'm "hot". I'm on a "streak". I got this one in the bag, because Parker? He hasn't won a match yet. He hasn't busted his balls to get where he is yet. But none of that matters. Because a wounded dog is a vulnerable dog. [Wandering away from the locker, Tommy steps over and sits down on a bench a couple feet away. His glance immediately drifts back up to the camera once he's comfortable.] TG: I'm not taking Jamison Parker lightly. I wouldn't take him lightly even if I were at one hundred percent. But now? Now my attention is bullseye, right on him. I'm not worried about Rembrandt. I'm not worried about "Classy" Kendrick Lane. I'm worried about stepping into the ring, arm bruised and battered, against a man who can beat me just like anyone else could. Hopefully, Jamison Parker is doing the same. Because there's something else they say about a wounded dog. [A deep breath, as the intensity of the "Deathdealer" creeps into Tommy's eyes.] TG: A wounded dog is a dangerous dog. It's time to knuckle-up, Jamison. One-armed or not... it's time to force you to take me seriously. I'm a "Deathdealer". And you're in my sights. [Fade to black.] [Cut backstage, where referee Eli Francois walks through the shot, followed closely by GIW's most well-known rookie, Jamison Parker. The camera follows the two ...] JP: Fine, Eli. Fine. Just admit you made a mistake, OK? EF: I didn't _make_ a mistake. JP: Like hell you didn't. Your hand hit the mat three times, and you know it. EF: Porter kicked out before the three. As soon as I saw it, I waived the fall off. You were too busy losing your head celebrating to notice. Tough luck, kid ... but that's the way it goes. [Francois walks out of camera view. Parker, still not finished, yells out at him.] JP: So what, you expect me to be _happy_? Like, maybe I should jump up and down about this? Jesus Christ ... [Just then, a door swings open. And by strange coincidence (uh, yeah, right), Jamie Roth comes walking out. Roth and Parker nearly collide.] JP: Uh, hey man. JR: Hey. JP: Yeah ... uh ... well, I haven't had a chance to thank you for, well, everything ... so ... thanks. JR: No problem. Anything I can do, you know. JP: Yeah. So um ... well ... I was watching the TV last show, and saw that conversation between you and Angie. What's up with her? [Roth hesitates a bit in his answer.] JR: She's cool. A little worried about my "direction" in GIW, it seems. JP: Yeah, well, you know how women are. Always worrying and stuff. [Parker pauses.] JP: Not that I'm anyone to be giving you or anyone else advice, but you know what you need, Jamie? Some confidence. Don't go out there thinking you can win. Go out there _knowing_ you can win. Hell, go out there knowing you _will_ win. That's all you need to do. Just have some confidence. JR: Oh... [Jamie chuckles a bit, looking at Parker with sort of an uncharacteristic smirk.] JR: Don't worry. That's been taken care of... I think. JP: Yeah. Well, my match is up ... gotta go get me my first win, you know. [Parker winks.] JP: Gonna be a good day in the bayou. [Parker walks out of the shot as Roth stands there, watching him go. Fade out.] DD: What a bunch of fruits! JR: Dirk! DD: Seriously.. fruits! JR: Nice, real nice. Fans.. let's just take you over to Antonio Hervez in the ring for the opening contest introductions.. before this gets too out of hand. DD: Whawha! [Cut to Hervez, who wavers in the center of the ring.. cue card in one hand, mic in the other.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our first 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 an elbow pad on his left arm, bandages on his right, 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 with his left hand, then shuffles over to his corner, adjusting his bandage.] AH: Entering 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 [The left hand is raised, letting the fans know he's ready, which draws a pretty decent pop. But it's apparent he's hurt, as he keeps the right arm drawn close to his body.] #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.. he hails from Smithsburg, Maryland ... weighing in at 205 pounds ... JAMISON PARKER!!!!!!!! [Parker walks out from behind the curtain to quite a BIG 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: Opener Singles Match!!!! "Deathdealer" Tommy Ganz vs. Jamison Parker Written By: Dan Mari ----------------------------------------------- [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: No calls to the bookie for this one, Dirk? DD: Nope.. I've been burned too many times by this Ganz punk. I'll just wait for something else. JR: Spoken like a true gambler. DD: Are you challenging me, Jacob? JR: Heh, take it how you want it. DD: Fine. [Dirk produces his phone and hits a key. After a minute, he puts the phone down.] DD: COME ON PARKER! JR: HAHA! Well both men are circling the ring. Ganz is obviously going to be watching out for that injured arm of his. DD: As well he should. And Parker is gonna use that to his advantage. You watch. JR: Well, Parker is a rookie, but people have been starting to get behind him more and more as he shows improvement. DD: Bah.. these fans will cheer for anything. Just win, Parker, that's all you have to do! JR: Collar and elbow here to start.. Ganz quickly wrenches down on Parker's shoulders, and frees an arm, hammerlock applied, and Parker is looking to break free. Parker swings with the back elbow and connects. One mor-- [POP!] JR: Ganz ducks! Legsweep! Parker's on his back! Ganz trying for the cross arm breaker! Parker fighting it! [NICE FACE POP!] JR: Parker gets to a knee and flips over Ganz! BRIDGE! ONE!!! TWOOOOO-- NO! JR: Ganz kicks free well before a three count there. DD: So what? Parker's showing Ganz that all that technical scmechnical wrestling isn't going to work that easily. Now Parker has to capitalize. JR: Yes, it was a very nice counter. Both men charge in, and another tie up.. Ganz spins around, waistlock.. tries to lift Parker up for a German.. [POP!] DD: BLOCKED!! JR: Yes, and Parker drives an elbow back, catching Ganz in the nose. Parker free now, he sprints for the ropes, comes off, LEAPS!!! [AWESOME POP!] JR: FLYING FOREARM!! GANZ GOES DOWN! DD: YES! Win me back some of my money Parker!! JR: He just might! DD: No might about it.. he will. JR: Maybe so. Parker now, pulling Ganz up by the head. He hoists him up, and DROPS him down hard with a spinebuster. DD: Parker going for the turnbuckles here. Don't waste time, kid.. focus on the arm! Focus on the match! Screw the crazy crap! JR: Just doing what he knows, Dirk. Parker perched up there, and he leaps!! [POP!] DD: DAMNIT! JR: He missed!! Ganz rolled away, and GANZ IS RIGHT ON HIM!! Spinning toe hold applied!! He's wrenching on it real nice. He goes for it again! [POP!!] JR: Ganz catches a boot right in that injured arm!!! Parker pulls himself up by the ropes... Ganz is stumbling back, clutching that arm! DD: GET THE ARM KID!! JR: Parker grabs Ganz up, and fires him across the ring. Ganz on his way back, looking to turn it back in his favor with a clothesline.. Parker leaps- [HUGE POP!] DD: CRUCIFIX TAKEDOWN!! HE'S GOT HIM PINNED!!! ONE!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! NOO!!!!! JR: Not yet. DD: He's getting closer, though. He's getting real close. JR: I have to think that Ganz is more worried about that arm than really building up a strong offense here. DD: Probably. But I don't care... let him play defense all night while MY MAN Parker wins this match. JR: Parker grabs Ganz on his way up. Standing front face lock applied.. he goes for a suplex.. [BIG FACE POP!] JR: Ganz with a back body drop! Excellent counter! DD: Yadda, yadda. JR: You can add something useful or just be quiet from now on, Dirk. DD: EFF off! JR: Bah! DD: Heh. JR: Back to the action, Ganz has Parker down on the mat in a front facelock. Just trying to wear the kid down here, I think, Dirk. DD: Prolonging the inevitable. Ganz will never learn that this crap doesn't work anymore. JR: He's sure done an excellent job making it work thus far in his Grand Isle tenure, Dirk. DD: Shut up, Jake. Just shut up. JR: Touched a nerve.. Ganz pulling Parker up to his feet now. A quick forearm to the back, and now Ganz hooks one of the rookie's legs.. lifts him straight up!! [POP!] JR: Nice kneebreaker there, and he's going for it again!! [POP!] JR: And Ganz lets Parker fall the the mat this time. Parker clutching at his knee now. Ganz grabs him and pulls him up again.. sends him to the ropes... !!!!!!WWWWWWWHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!! [HUGE POP!!] JR: Ganz takes Parker down with a drop toe hold and MAN, did he ever hit with a thud. Ganz springs up and rolls Parker onto his back.. grabs a leg... FIGURE FOUR APPLIED! Parker sits straight up and screams!! DD: NO!! NO! DON'T YOU TAP YOU LITTLE BASTARD!!! JR: Easy on the kid, Dirk. Ganz really trying to get a Parker submission here. Parker reaching for the ropes. He landed pretty close after that drop toe hold, but if only he could find them! DD: THE OTHER SIDE!! [POP!] JR: Parker gets to the ropes and Ganz breaks clean. No tappage, but you gotta believe that Parker's knee is really starting to give him grief. Parker trying to pull himself up with the ropes, but ganz is there to help him out instead. Headlock applied. Parker running forward.. Ganz let's go, and Parker pushes him straight into the ropes.. Parker leaps!! [BIG POP!] DD: DROPKICK!! JR: Excellent technique, and he nailed Ganz in that arm as he came back.. Ganz rolling back to the ropes, and he's really grimacing now, Dirk. DD: Good.. serves the bastard right. I've had to grimace the last few weeks because of him. FEEL MY PAIN, YOU BASTARD! JR: Less coffee, more prozak. DD: Gah. Look, I think a lightbulb went off in Parker's head. JR: Yes, he sees that Ganz is really hurting. He stomps on that arm one time, and Ganz slides away, shielding that arm with his body. DD: Now you've got it kid. Tear that arm apart! JR: Parker now, pulling Ganz up. Short arms him, and drives a shoulder into that arm. Again! [POP!] DD: Once more, for me! JR: And he does it again. Ganz trying to pull away but Parker has a good lock on his hand. Parker pulls on him again, and ducks, ARM DRAG! DD: Oh, listen to that! Did you hear Ganz cry out when Parker used that arm drag! Oh ho! JR: Parker pulls him up again, and starts yanking down on that injured arm, forcing Ganz down to one knee as he grabs that arm in pain. Ganz is really in some trouble here. Parker fires him across and into the ropes, but Ganz DIVES!! [BIG FACE POP!] JR: He takes Parker's legs out from under him, spins, hooks a leg and LEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAANS BACK! HALF CRAB SUBMISSION!! Parker is dead square in the middle of the ring! DD: No! GET UP! BREAK IT! DO SOMETHING! JR: Parker pushing up, he's really trying to get free of this hold! Ganz trying his damndest to keep his balance and keep the pressure on that knee! Parker slowly moving forward here.. walking on his hands.. Ganz tries pulling him back! It's tug of war, and Parker's knee is the rope! DD: Pretend you're the lead singer of the Vines! I'm gonna get free! I'm gonna get free! JR: Parker pushes up again, and he flips onto his back. Ganz falls to his side, right on that arm, and releases the hold!! DD: WOO HOO!! [LAUGHTER POP!] JR: Parker dives for the ropes anyway, just making sure he's free of Ganz's grip. Hah! DD: You can never be too careful. JR: I suppose not. Both men trying to get up, and Parker winning that race. Parker up, shaking the funk from that knee, or at least trying to. DD: He'll be alright I tell ya! JR: Parker heads for Ganz.. [POP!] JR: Swinging Neckbreaker! DD: Ganz is down! JR: Parker headed for the top! He starts climbing, but Ganz is up! Ganz to the ropes! [POP!] JR: And Parker introduces his own midsection to the top turnbuckle! DD: Sonofabitch! JR: Ganz is on him, but Parker still has his wits, and he's fighting Ganz off. [BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!!!!!!!!!] JR: Ganz falls back to the canvas after a big elbow from Jamison Parker! Parker up, and he leaps!!! [POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--] [WWWWWWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!] [--OOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!!!] JR: PARKER WITH A MOONSAULT! HE PINS GANZ!!! THIS CROWD IS COUNTING ALONG WITH THE REF! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! THREEE----NOOOOOOOOOO! [DISAPPOINTED POP!] DD: ALMOST GOD DAMNIT!! ALMOST!! JR: INDEED! Parker up! He's feeding off this crowd now! He leaps! LEGDROP! [POP!] JR: HE HOOKS A LEG!! ONE!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TH---KICKOUT!!!! JR: Ganz is NOT going to give up! This man's pride will not let him give in! This crowd is behind BOTH of these men as much as they can be! DD: Just stay down, Ganz!! JR: Parker pulls Ganz up.. [POP!] JR: Ganz is fighting back.. he decks Parker right in the kisser, and PARKER RETURNS THE FAVOR! Back and forth! Ganz and Parker, squaring off in the middle of the ring! [ZEPPELIN SIZED POP!] JR: Parker with a kick to the gut of Ganz! DD: HAHA!! JR: Parker grabs that arm again! He whips Ganz to the ropes! JAPANESE ARM DRAG!!! DD: GO! GO! JR: Parker rolls Ganz on his back, and leaps straight up! [OOOHHH!!!!] JR: KNEEDROP! Kneedrop on that injured arm! Parker points up top! [POINTING AT THE TOP TURNBUCKLE POP!!] DD: He's going to finish Ganz off!! JR: Parker up top. Ganz on the mat, laying on his stomach, and that arm of his prone to just about anything Parker can think of! DD: FLY, ROOKIE! FLY!! JR: PARKER LEAPS!!! [ANTICIPATION-CAUSED SILENCE!] [BBOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!] [YOU FRIGGIN' MISSED POP!!] JR: HE MISSED! HE MISSED!! GANZ WAS PLAYING POSSUM! DD: ..... JR: Parker writhing in pain on the mat. Ganz is up, and he stalks over to Parker. Spinning toe hold! He's twisting on the knee he's been working on all night! Parker's face tells all! He's in a SERIOUS amount of--- DD: NO!! [NASTY LOOKING BEND POP!] JR: OH! Ganz applies a scissors lock on Parker's knee and falls to the side! KNEEBAR CRUCIFIX! DD: NO! OH MY GOD, NO! [OUCH POP!] JR: Ganz is REALLY wrenching on that kneebar submission! DD: Parker is right in center ring... JR: It's going to take an act of God to break this hold! Ganz sits up... he looks at Parker's grimacing face, and... [HUGE POP!] JR: He put everything he had into torquing that knee one more time! Parker's gotta tap! He has to! DD: NO! JR: YES!! [DING!!! DING!!! DING!!!] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. the winner of the match.. TOMMY GAAAAAAAAAAAANZZZZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [BIG-TIME POP!!! as Ganz releases the hold and raises his arms in the air.. Parker immediately clutching that leg and rolling in pain.] JR: Ganz back to his winning ways.. and what a menace he has been these past few months! DD: Goddamn Parker.. little runt bastard owes me. He owes me! JR: I doubt that, Dirk. DD: Never doubt the sure bet! JR: What a way to kick things off here tonight.. both men gave it their all and both have left the ring as we get ready for our next big con- [Abruptly cut to the backstage area of the Sand Dollar Marina. The camera focuses in on the inside of a door leading into the Marina when it abruptly swings open revealing a busty figure behind it.] [HEEL POP!] [Leading the way is none other than the heavily tattoo and petite frame of the raven haired, psychopathic beauty known to the GIW and wrestling world as Sierra Hayes. The moment she enters the ‘arena’ her chest inhales deeply causing her pert breast to stretch out the black leather tube top, scarcely concealing them. The rest of her is covered in skin tight blue jeans and a pair of black high heeled boots.] DD: DAMN!!! Our Heavyweight Champion is looking SEXY to night!! JR: She’s NOT the Champion, Dirk. DD: After what she did to City Jack two weeks ago, HELL YEAH she’s the champ! JR: What happened was an impromptu match with McBai- DD: WHO lit the table on fire?? My point exactly! [The mile wide grin on her face radiates an almost sickening cheerful presence much like the sadistic smirk that GIW TV ended on two weeks ago. After a few moments of soaking in the dingy atmosphere of the Marina as if it were Madison Square Garden itself, she walks ahead down the hallway motioning behind her.] Sierra: Come on Baby! Hurry up! [Seconds later the 6 foot 6 inch, 302 pound frame of the GIW Heavyweight Champion, "Bad Eye" McBaine slowly trudges into through the door. He’s wearing his usual black eye patch, tank top and worn out jeans but ALSO has his left arm and shoulder wrapped in sterile white gauze as a physical testament to the last show. On his shoulders he carries two duffel bags, one small and black and the other, bright red and HUGE.] JR: It appears not only does McBaine do her dirty work in the ring, but everywhere else as well. DD: If a hottie like her dedicated her body to your career, nursed you back from certain death AND was there to protect you from the jealous likes of City Jack, wouldn’t you do the same? JR: Oh boy. [The camera soon follows them to a locker room with the names "Sierra Hayes & Bad Eye McBaine" on it. She rubs her finger over the sign, eyes glazed with amazement. Quickly she turns to McBaine.] Sierra: Look Baby!! It’s my name!! I feel _soooo_ special!!! [McBaine’s one good eye narrows for a moment but only responds with silence. Sierra’s cheerful _expression soon begins to fade as she looks deeply hurt at McBaine.] Sierra: What is with you Baby? You should be _ESTATIC_ that I have my name on our locker! As your fiancée I.. [McBaine’s head turns slightly, glaring at her.] Sierra: I-I-I m-mean... since I’m _practically_ your fiancée I just think that you should try and share in my happiness. I share in yours all the time. Like on the last show, I shared your enjoyment when you put that fat bastard City Jack through the table. When he was rolling all around in the flaming rumble, I shared your happiness! You could at least do the same for me! [McBaine simply stares at her questioning face, right before pushing past her and entering the room. Once in the room he tosses the bags in the corner of the room and begins to violently shaking his head. An anxious look quickly spreads across her face as she charges towards her love.] Sierra: BABY!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!?! [She drops to her knees over her bright red duffle bag, groping it to ensure that everything within it is in one piece.] Sierra: What the FUCK is the matter with you!!! You need to be more careful with my stuff!! What if you broke something!?!? [McBaine turns from her and walks over the far corner of the room as he runs his hand over the gauze covering his arm.] Sierra: First you’re all quiet all the time, making me the ONLY one giving anything in this relationship... and then suddenly in the last two weeks you keeping acting all grumpy and stuff... Baby, what’s the matter?? Talk to me! [Nothing.] Sierra: Trevo- [McBaine swiftly spins to meet her look, causing the words to choke midway in her throat.] Sierra: I-I-I... [She immediately digs into her bag, frantically searching for something. McBaine begins to stagger towards her, with emotion on his face for the first time in months. Nervously she pulls a small water bottle out of the bag along with a pill container. She then jumps up to meet McBaine head on to hands him the two items.] Sierra: Y-y-you should take these now... [McBaine stops short of charging into her and seizes the items with a smoldering look on his face. As he looks at the pill container, Sierra continues to speak while backing up towards the door.] Sierra: Y-you know what I think, Baby? I think that may we should u-up your dosage a little. Especially with all the stress you’ve been under lately, I think it will help you... [She backs up into the door to the locker room which surprises her. She quickly opens it, while still nervously watching McBaine.] Sierra: So I think you should take four of those now instead of just two. Just for a little while now, okay? [McBaine watches her for a moment without movement, before gradually opening the pill container, taking out four pills and placing them one by one into his mouth. He then opens up the water bottle and takes a short swig. Sierra’s face promptly lightens as she giggles softly to herself, mostly relieved that McBaine did as he was told. She then approaches him and places a kiss on his cheek.] Sierra: That’s the man I love... [She backs off a bit and begins to head out of the room.] Sierra: I’m gonna leave you for a little bit babe... let you have a little bit of personal time, okay? [Nothing.] Sierra: So I’ll be back before we have to address OUR fans tonight... I’ll miss ya, Blood Muffin! [She waits a moment for a similar response but only is greeted with the look that has not changed in the last minute. She tenderly slips out of the room finally leaving the stone-faced McBaine by himself.] [The camera focuses in on McBaine’s determined face just as four neon green pills slip from his mouth and fall into his open hand. His fingers envelop the pills seconds before they disappear into his pocket.] [Cut.] DD: Oh.. sheeit! Did you see that?! JR: McBaine spit out the pills!! He's onto her ruse now! DD: I wonder if he'll be able to endure the pain without his pain pills! JR: Oh c'mon! Those are as likely pain pills as you are to not having the Clap! DD: Not.. funny. JR: I'm not joking. But anyhow.. we've got a match on deck so let's hear what Jeremy Rhodes had to say about it! DD: Nothing.. hopefully. [Fade, well -- to the parking lot. "Supreme Being" Jeremy Rhodes sits on the hood of his car, thinking to himself. He's dressed out, and just waiting for his cue. Now he speaks.] SBJR: Sometimes, I forget just how hard it is. [Rhodes rubs the latest addition to his scarred forehead.] SBJR: I think about the time I spent in retirement, with my wife and son -- thinking that I was leading a better life. I wondered why the urge was still there. I wondered why I wanted to go and get my forehead shredded to little bits. [Rhodes pauses for a brief second.] SBJR: I thought it wasn't because I never held more than one title. Most wrestlers would kill for a title, and I'm happy with what I've done. I thought it was to teach the younger stars -- but that hasn't satisfied my hunger either. So I entered Grand Isle -- knowing full well what kind of competition I was up against. And -- quite frankly, I got eaten alive. Call it the arrogance of a veteran -- I call it being a daft punk. [Rhodes glares.] SBJR: I haven't forgotten what Rembrandt did to me, knocking me unconscious. He will receive his just desserts soon. However -- I have some pressing matters to attend to. Adam Donovan -- a ghost of Knoxville's past. [Another pause.] SBJR: Adam, my boy -- still full of arrogance, piss, and vinegar, I see. Still with that swollen head -- with all the hype you receive, that ego grows. But, Adam, while you are quite talented -- you can be beaten. You can be defeated. All it takes is a man with strong mind and body, not shaken by the trail of press clippings that preceeds you. [Rhodes runs his hands through his hair.] SBJR: I can't guarantee a strong body -- or a strong mind. But I can guarantee you this -- after your match with me today, you'll know you've been through a fight. [Rhodes raises his fists. Fade.] JR: Well, that's what Rhodes has to say so let's take you to the ri- # ... WHATEVER IT TAAAAAKESSSSS!!!!! ... # [GET!!!] [THE!!!] [FU--Oh ... ] [ ... you're already up.] # ... Face to face with aggression ... # # ... debolish and molish the opposition ... # # ... armored to be the stronger ... # # ... and conquer my competition ... # [Rapidly, the camera glides up the aisle and into the dim portal. We're jerked violently backward now that we've come too far, and the darkness is filled by the burly, rigid tone of the "Serial Thriller" Billy Rock's body, poured into his wrestling gear. After cracking his neck, he snaps his snarling head backward, slinging the soggy straws of sunbleached hair from his eyes.] # ... this ammunition, fills a vision that make decisions ... # # ... told you once before but it's obvious you didn't listen ... # # ... now listen closely, for next time you wanna quote me ... # # ... and take my advice would be wise to not approach me ... # [Billy throws his fist out and yanks it back to his side several times, his jaw rigorously popping as he stomps all over the aisle. He moves from one side to the other, nearly diving over the barricade and into the blossoming garden of Grand Isle fans.] JR: Here comes Billy Rock! Could be the next GIW TV Champion mingling with the fans there. [Finally within reach, Billy dives into the ring below the bottom rope and rises fluidly. He scrapes a mic off the canvas and makes a round, dragging his index finger across the house to the beat of the chant.] "BIL-LY!!! BIL-LY!!!" Billy Rock: Whoa whoa whoa! Simmer down! Compose yourselves! GET IT TOGETHER, PEOPLE! [He cracks his neck again and scratches his nuts while the ruckus caves in.] Billy Rock: Just RELAX, would yuh? [Huh?] Billy Rock: The celebration aint 'till _after_ I nail that TV title to my waist! [POP!!!] [Billy pats his chiseled abdomen and cracks a smile.] Billy Rock: Rembrandt ... I wouldn't blame yuh if yuh were prowlin' the marina right now, tryin' to sniff out some answers. Why the Serial Thriller? Why now? Why _you_? Don't be ashamed. Yuh aint alone. There's a new frequency in the air around here and you're just channelin' it. Same as Irons. Same as every other tightly wound hair in this hot, smelly crotch. [Pointing toward the entrance.] Billy Rock: Just let me tell yuh somethin', Remy. One of the few things you'll ever understand about the Ozark Beast. [Presses his middle finger against his temple.] Billy Rock: My mind is my sanctum. It's where this sinner dwells, 'cause he can always find rationalization there. Out here, Rembrandt ... in plain sight ... what happens to yuh tonight can't be justified. But in _here_ ... _inside_ ... [Stoops to one knee.] Billy Rock: ... ... [We're all feeling a bit uncomfortable now. Billy scrapes the finger down the side of his face and off his jaw bone.] Billy Rock: ... vindication aint hard to come by. Yuh people, yuh can turn your heads. Cover your ears. Close your eyes. Yuh can do what yuh need to do to make your peace with it, even if it means ... forgiveness. That's how it usually goes. _I_ don't have to make excuses, Remy. These people condone my actions _for me_. "His daddy beat him. He's just now hittin' back." "Life dealt him a tough hand. He's just playin' his cards." It's just so easy, yuh see. My trials, my hardships, they're just so Goddamn handy. It's sooooo much easier than just admitting they downright _like it_! That they _wanna_ see me snap your emaciated little neck just as easily as I would my fingers. I am each and everyone of these people's dirty little secret. I'm their guilty pleasure. And do I mind? Do I MIND? [He wags a sinister grin from shoulder to shoulder as he stands.] Billy Rock: Fuck almighty! That's better than SEX! [POP!!] DD: Told'ja he's gay, Billy Rock: I'm not just talkin' about a roll in the hay. I mean buck naked, toe curlin', bumpin' fuzzies, leave the lights on, "SMACK MY ASS!" AND "OH MY GOD YUH WANNA PUT THAT MONSTER _WHERE_?" SEX! [HORNY POP!!!] [Billy closes his eyes, having a moment to himself, and quivers all over.] DD: What the hell is that? What's that freak doing?? [He leans over, trying to catch up to some breath.] Billy Rock: O-o-o-o-h ... ... just gimme a minute. Talk amongst yourselves. I'll give yuh a topic. Corey Irons is neither "Extreme" nor a "War Machine". Discuss. DD: What the ... I ... this is OBSCENE! [Rock gathers himself and winks at a perty blonde in the front row.] Billy Rock: Sorry about that. Just had to put Mighty Kong back to sleep. And where were we? Rembrandt, right? Ok. I'll give credit where it's due, Remy. You're the champ around here. If I do say so my damn self, the _real_ champ. Week in, week out, yuh put no less than one hundred percent to the task. McBaine? He cashes the checks _you_ earn. [RESPECT POP!!] Billy Rock: But if there's so much as a fleeting thought in any corner of your mind that there's an _ounce_ of some tubby bitch from Liberty ... that there's anything _left_ of Jamison Parker ... that there's so much as a _stutter_ of Ganz skulking behind these eyes, coursing through these veins, or ringing in this tone, yuh aint just mistaken. You're tap dancin' across a mine field. Come see me, Remy. Right here where I sharpen my craft. Where I committ my sins. This is my lab ... and in just a few minutes I'm gonna drop some science on your ass. [Interrupting Rock’s segment, the opening bassline to "Would" by Alice in Chains starts out over the arena sound system. The right entrance curtain is pulled aside, and the "Extreme War Machine" Corey Irons steps through.] #Know meeeeeeee broken byyyyyy my master# #Teach theeeeeeee our child love hereafter# [Irons takes a cold look towards Billy Rock, as he comes up the aisleway. Again, the traditional confrontation between the two men. However, this time, something doesn’t seem quite right.] JR: What’s Irons got in his hand? DD: Beats me, Jacob. Best thing you can do is ask him. [In his right hand, Irons holds a document.] #Into the flood again!# #Same old trip it was baaaaaaaaaaack then# #So I made a big mistake# #Try to see it once my waaaaaaaaaaaay# [At the end of the first chorus, Irons rolls into the ring, and meets Billy Rock with a staredown as his music dies down. The crowd JEERS in approval of the two men, who just look towards one another. Billy’s lips begin to move immediately as he meets Irons face-to-face. Irons just shakes his head, and then motions for a microphone from Hervez.] Corey Irons: Ya just don’t get it, do you? Y’know Billy, let me explain something to you that I’m not quite sure you understand... Tonight, you face Rembrandt... [POP!] Corey Irons: And tonight, I face Otto Verhoeven... [POP!] Corey Irons: Yet you stand there, wasting a breath of air on me. Y’know Billy, can you, for just ONE fucking night, focus on the match at hand instead of running yer mouth at me. So let me make this clear to you, Billy... I’m sick and tired of it. [Heel pop!] Corey Irons: A week ago, I killed a giant. I put Leviticus Nelson down for the count, and hell... I’m damn proud of it! [BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!] Corey Irons: Tonight, the same thing happens. Another big man, another wrestling legend... Bring your "A" game tonight, Otto... ‘Cause I ain’t been this focused in a long time! [Irons pauses to yet another heel pop from the two-hundred strong crowd surrounding him. Rock's eyes seem to implore Irons to get on with it.] Corey Irons: Now Billy, obviously you can’t keep your mouth shut for fifteen seconds. So you stand there, going off again about God knows what. But y’see, after I figured your leechass wouldn’t go away, I decided to do a lil’ research on ya, and lookie here. Look what I found. [Irons holds up the document to the crowd.] Corey Irons: Y’see Billy, the minute you walk into the workplace, you’d think the first thing a guy would do is sign the frickin’ dotted line. [He unfolds the paper, revealing it to be a contract of some sort.] Corey Irons: So Billy, show me the damn ink, ‘cause you ain’t signed _nothing_ yet! [MONSTER HEEL POP! Irons smirks as he points towards the unsigned dotted line on Billy Rock’s contract.] Corey Irons: You want that TV title shot? [Irons points an accusatory finger towards the glare of Billy Rock.] Corey Irons: You want a piece of me eventually? [He waves his finger in a "tsk tsk" motion.] Corey Irons: Y’know what, Mr. Serial Thriller? You ain’t getting _shit_! [HEEL POP!!!] Corey Irons: You ain’t a part of this company, and you’ve NEVER been. In a place filled with giants such as Nelson, legendary names such as Verhoeven, and big walkin’ targets like McBaine... Why the _fuck_ do you think I’d waste my time on _you_!? Now get the hell outta here. [Irons pinches the top of the slip of paper with both fingers, fully intent to shred.] JR: No! Irons isn't gonna give him the chance to sign it! DD: Good! Tear it to ribbons! [Billy's lips tighten, teeth clinched.] "Pop!" [Crowd ERUPTS!!] JR: ROCK KNOCKS IRONS STRAIGHT TO HIS CAN WITH A THUNDERING RIGHT HOOK!! [The barely creased contract floats to the canvas as Irons cups his jaw.] JR: ROCK DIVES RIGHT ONTO HIM!! RIGHT HANDS!! RIGHT HANDS!! He yanks Irons up and fires him into the ropes! [The crowd supplies thick base to a bionic elbow. Irons feet fly out from beneath him.] JR: Irons pops back up! Bionic elbow! Irons up again! He succumbs to ANOTHER one! And Irons wants no more! He's taking a powder! [Rock follows Irons out of the ring, not letting him off the hook so easily. He shoves Irons straight into the barricade!] "Clang!!" DD: Rock's got a chair! Someone confiscate that thing before he-- "BANG!!" DD: ... uses it. JR: Rock took that slab of steel right to the back of Irons' skull! [Rock backs away, tapping the chair against the concrete as he waits for Irons to resurface.] DD: Not again! Someone stop him! HE DOESN'T EVEN WORK HERE! JR: Irons turns! [Rock raises the chair and takes a giant step forward, pushing off his back leg.] "BANG!!!!!" JR: DEAR GOD! IT ECHOED! DD: He busted Irons open! He's spurting like Old Faithful! [Rock throws the chair down and tilts his head, admiring his work.] DD: This guy's SICK! He's enjoying what he just did! JR: He rolls Irons back into the ring, and it seems as though a fan is trying to get his attention. What does this young lady want? [He stares at the girl for a moment before grinning and taking something out of her hand, to her delight.] DD: If that's her hotel key ... JR: It's long and slender, Dirk. That's a PEN! DD: Oh no! Don't let him! GET UP, IRONS! JR: Billy's in the ring, and he picks up his contract! DD: This is an injustice! Stop him! Irons! Rembrandt! Freaking McBaine! SOMEONE! [Billy looks at the contract, and then Irons crimson face. He kicks Irons onto his back and kneels over him, dabbing the tip of the pen against his open gash.] DD: He's not ... he wouldn't ... oh, come on, he's not THAT sick! [He flattens the contract out on Irons chest and starts scribbling.] JR: HE DID! THE OZARK BEAST IS SIGNING HIS CONTRACT _IN COREY IRONS' BLOOD_! [Billy stands up, slamming the pen down on Irons, and raising his contract triumphantly into the air bearing a clearly visible crimson signature.] [_HEEEEEYUGE_ POP!!!!] JR: IT'S A DEAL! BILLY ROCK WILL WORK FOR THE ISLE! BILLY ROCK WILL GET HIS TV TITLE SHOT! AND BILLY ROCK, BY GOD, WILL GET HIS DAY WITH COREY IRONS! # ... WHATEVER IT TAAAAAKESSSSS!!!!! ... # [Billy grabs his mic off the canvas and drags his thumb across his throat.] Billy Rock: Shut it off! [He falls to his knees, right next to Irons, and leans over his face.] Billy Rock: Get use ... to seeing _me_. That is, if you can with all that blood in your eyes ... [Snorrrrrrrrrrt ... ] Billy Rock: ... _bitch_! "Thunk!" [After dropping the mic on Irons' chest, Billy spits to the side and rolls out of the rin, leaving to the praise of the crowd.] JR: Holy Christ!! It's signed! It's on! DD: And Rock signed more than a contract. JR: How so? DD: He signed his damn death warrant once Irons gets back up and realizes what just happened. [Speaking of.. Irons is up and slipping out of the ring running full bore towards the back looking for Rock no doubt.] JR: My God.. let's finally take it over to Hervez for the official introductions to our next contest! [Cut to drunken latino midget mastermind of funk, Antonio Hervez.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest ees scheduled for one fall.. with a feefteen meenute time leemit.. introducing first.. ["Shame" by Wu-Tang & System Of A Down blasts over the PA as the fans start to boo as "Gamma Dog" Adam Donovan busts out from the entranceway with a scowl. He doesn't acknowledge the crowd as he walks with purpose towards the ring.. rolling in and just standing in a corner as he awaits his opponent.] AH: Een the ring at this time.. he weighs een tonight at 241 pounds.. and he hails from Laredo, Texas.. here ees.. "GAMMA DOG" ADAM DONOVAN!!!!!!!! [HEEL POP!!!] AH: And his opponent.. ["Scarlet Dream" by Sigh begins to play over the public address, as we anticipate the entrance of "Supreme Being" Jeremy Rhodes.] # The pseudo deaths I've been going through # # And remembrance of the past catches my soul # # The truth is raped, escape the world that I knew # # And remembrance of this future catches my soul # [Rhodes emerges from the entrance, dressed in ratty denim shorts, black construction boots, and a sleeveless black T- shirt bearing the P*WIN logo on the front. He looks rather intense as he makes his walk to the ring, carrying a bottle of water.] AH: On his way to the ring.. he weighs in tonight at 236 pounds.. and he hails from Manchester, England.. here is.. "SUPREME BEING" JEREMY RHODES!!!!!!! # Don't believe what you hear with your ears # # Don't believe in the fate that you fear # # I am blind but I know the truth is here # # I am deaf but I know revelation coming near # [Rhodes stops to feel the still healing wound on his forehead, which had the stitches removed not too long ago -- remembering just what Corey Irons and Rembrandt did to him. But he tries to put that aside as makes it to the ring steps, climbing up. After doing so, he takes off his T-shirt, revealing that awesome katakana tattoo of his name across his shoulders.] # I am the sun, I am the moon # # I'm living in the scarlet dream # # Born in heaven and raised in hell # # I'm wandering in the scarlet dream # [Rhodes steps into the ring and dumps the contents of the bottle over his head and into his mouth, getting a quick bit of hydration before his match. He throws the bottle to the side and tests the looseness of the ropes before his music fades.] --------------------------------------- Grand Isle Wrestling: Singles Debut!!!! Adam Donovan vs. Jeremy Rhodes Written By: Terry Jue --------------------------------------- [DING! DING! DING!] JR: Rhodes and Donovan lock-up...and Donovan's taken down quickly with a fireman's carry! DD: This fancy wrestling crap isn't going to get Rhodes anywhere with Donovan. He's a phenom! A certifiable stud! JR: Leave your unnatural feelings in the back, Dirk. Your man-lust is strictly on a need-to-know basis, I quite frankly...we don't need to know. DD: Ahhh...kiss my a-... *SMACK!* JR: And a stiff elbow shot takes down Adam Donovan! Rhodes brings him back to his feet and shoots him into the ropes... [As he comes back, Donovan ducks under a clothesline, shooting off the opposite side and taking Rhodes completely off his feet with a vicious spear! Heel pop!] DD: He almost tore that English bastard in two! JR: SPEAR TACKLE BY DONOVAN!! And he's brutalizing Rhodes with punches! DD: Bash his damn skull in! [The "Gamma Dog" mounts Rhodes and nails him with piston-like right hands, before Eli Francois manages to pull him off the Manchester native. However, Donovan remains undaunted, shoving Francois aside and going straight for Rhodes. He yanks him to his feet and hooks him, throwing him over his head.] _THUUUUUUUUUUDDD!!!_ JR: Huge overhead belly-to-belly suplex by Adam Donovan! [Heel pop!] JR: And now he's slapping Jeremy Rhodes in the back of the head...insulting, daring him to fight back! DD: Adam Donovan is _OWNING_ Rhodes right now. He can do whatever the hell he wants. JR: He's cocky, that's for sure. He pulls Rhodes back to his feet and lifts...[THUD!] Brainbuster drops him right on his head! [Donovan doesn't go for the pin, instead, deciding to stomp away at the downed Rhodes, drawing a chorus of boos from the crowd.] DD: You know, he should be going for the pin. JR: That's a pretty astute observation, Dirk. I'm surprised. DD: Yeah, I don't wanna' see that piece of crap Rhodes in the ring any longer either. [The youngest Donovan pulls Rhodes back up to his feet, whipping him into the ropes. He takes a few steps forward, throwing a vicious lariat, but the third-generation wrestler hooks his arm around Donovan's and spins around, catching the surprised youngster with a bulldog headlock! Face Pop!] _THUUUUUUUUUUDDD!!!_ DD: No friggin' way! JR: There's fight in him yet! Floatover into a bulldog by Rhodes...and the cover! ONE! TWO! JR: NO! Donovan kicks out! DD: With *ease*, JR. With _EASE._ JR: Rhodes picks Donovan back up to his feet and...[THWAP!] BIG CHOP! And a right hand! He's staggering Adam Donovan with these blows! DD: You're not going to finish off Adam freakin' Donovan with some drunk British-style punching and kicking! Hit a damn suplex or something! [Rhodes backs Donovan into a corner with his assault of punches and chops, finishing with an elbow strike that rocks young Adam's head back, drawing "Oohs" and "Ahhs" from the crowd! He whips Donovan into the opposite corner, charging in, only to hit the turnbuckles chest-first as the Texan leapfrogs over! Stumbling backwards into his grip, Rhodes finds himself getting thrown into the air...] _THUUUUUUUUUUDDD!!!_ DD: HOLY BUSTED HYMENS, BATMAN!!! JR: German suplex nearly folds Jeremy Rhodes in half!! DD: He's not done yet! [Donovan drags a dazed Rhodes back to his feet and throws him over his head once more...] _THUUUUUUUUUUDDD!!!_ "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" JR: RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX!!! Rhodes was thrown violently onto the back of his neck! DD: He's lucky nothing's broken! I haven't seen anything that nasty since Taylor nearly killed Verhoeven's kid! JR: It was his nephew, Dirk. DD: Close enough! [Donovan pulls Rhodes up by the hair, doubling him over with a kick to the midsection. He scissors his head and lifts him into the air, holding him up for a split-second for the crowd to see...before bringing him crashing back down onto the canvas! Heel pop!] DD: Ooh! He almost put him through the damn ring with that! JR: SITOUT POWERBOMB!! Donovan holds for the pin! ONE! TWO! TH-KICKOUT! [FACE POP!] DD: GODDAMNIT! JR: Donovan's not stopping this beating. He lifts Rhodes up and places him onto the top turnbuckle...looking for a superplex here...[BIG POP!] But Rhodes is fighting back! DD: Fight back, damnit! Don't let no instructor of she-males and incoherent hicks beat ya', Adam! [Donovan and Rhodes battle at the top, punching away at each other. However, Rhodes' years of experience and brawling proves superior to youthful exuberance, as he catches Donovan with a headbutt across the bridge of Adam's nose and a forearm smash, that sends him falling back down to the mat! Face pop!] JR: Rhodes knocks him off! What's he going for here? DD: No fuckin' way... "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" JR: MOONSAULT PRESS ONTO ADAM DONOVAN!!! DD: Call him Lydia Kellan, cause he just pulled that one outta' his ass! JR: Dirk! ONE! TWO! JR: SO CLOSE! Adam Donovan almost lost the match right there! DD: He was just shocked by the fact that a European actually fought back. JR: Rhodes picking Donovan back to his feet and sends him into the ropes...No! Reversed by Donovan! [Donovan follows Rhodes close behind, finally hitting him with a lariat, knocking him over the top rope and onto the floor. Heel pop!] JR: Donovan retakes control of the match and knocks Rhodes over the top...he's on the run now... DD: Watch this mofo fly... _THUUUUUUUUUUDDD!!!_ [HUGE POP!] JR: Somersault plancha misses! Rhodes side-steps and Donovan hits hard on the floor! DD: Goddamn! He could've broke his damn back! Damn Rhodes and his drunk Irish agility! [Rhodes slides Donovan back into the ring, driving a knee into his skull. He pulls him up to his feet and kicks him in the knee, before whipping him into the ropes, sending Donovan flipping head over feet with a dropkick to the knee!] JR: Rhodes is grounding Donovan now, targeting his knee. Adam Donovan can't do a single thing if he's stuck at a grounded position. DD: A couple of shots to the knee and you're talking like it's the end of the world! Shut the hell up, JR. JR: Rhodes grabbing Donovan's leg and pulls back on it... [The "Supreme Being" backs up, before leaping back, snapping Donovan's leg in an attempt to hyper-extend it. Donovan rolls back to his feet, grimacing in pain and limping noticeably. He charges at Rhodes, who side-steps and takes him down with a drop-toehold! He gets to his feet and nails Donovan with an elbowdrop to the back of the head, responding to his earlier insults with slaps to the back of the head of his own! Big pop!] JR: Jeremy Rhodes is teaching Adam Donovan a lesson in respect here! He's out-witting him at every turn! DD: This damn unorthodox drunken kung-fu style would give anyone fits! JR: It's called wrestling, Dirk. Look into it. *SMACK!* DD: AWWW!!! JR: And a big kick right between the shoulderblades by Rhodes! Donovan's in a hurt of pain right now! [Rhodes pulls Donovan to his feet and whips him into the corner, catching him on the rebound and slinging him into the other corner, before catching him coming out of the corner and _SLAMS_ him down with a spinebuster! BIG POP!] JR: Ring-shaking spinebuster by Rhodes! Jeremy Rhodes has been working Adam Donovan relentlessly since he took that big spill outside! DD: Big whoop. JR: A cover...[Heel pop!] ...only two! But Rhodes pulls Donovan back to his feet, grabbing that leg and kicking at it at will... [However, the last thing you want to do is have Adam Donovan standing on one foot...] _SMAAAAAAAACCCKK!_ JR: ENZUIGIRI BY ADAM DONOVAN! Both men are down! DD: Did you hear the sound of Adam's foot bouncing off that stupid Brit's head? It was like a gunshot! JR: Donovan the first to his feet. He swings...[BIG POP!] No! Rhodes catches him with a Fujiwara armbar!!! [Heel Pop!] DD: And Adam rolls out of it! JR: Rhodes tries for an elbowstrike... DD: ...ducked! _THUUUUUUUUUUDDD!!!_ [HUGE HEEL POP!] JR: NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!!! Donovan bridges! ONE! TWO! THR- JR: Rhodes bridges up! He twists around... _THUUUUUUUUUUDDD!!!_ [FACE POP!] JR: ...DDT! Donovan got planted! DD: Foot on the ropes, damnit! Call it, Francois! JR: You're right, Dirk. Rhodes and Donovan were extremely close to the ropes and Donovan got a foot on the bottom rope before the pinfall could be counted. [Rhodes gets off Donovan and shakes his head, pulling him back to his feet. However, he's greeted with a nasty eye gouge that sends him stumbling back. Adam Donovan then gets back to his feet, charging at Rhodes...] DD: Knock his damn head off! JR: Mafia kick ducked by Rhodes! [Stopping in his tracks, Adam Donovan spins around and nails Jeremy Rhodes head-on with a spinning leg lariat that sends him crashing down. He whips Rhodes into the corner and charges in, only to catch a knee to the face!] DD: Damnit! Rhodes just won't die! JR: Rhodes hoping onto the top turnbuckle... DD: Aw fuck! [Before you know it, Rhodes has double-underhooked Adam Donovan's arms...] _____THHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!_____ [HUGE FACE POP!] DD: Son of a bitch! How'd he do that!? JR: RHODES SPECIAL '02!!!!! ONE! TWO! THREE! ["HE WON!!!!" FACE POP!!!] [DING! DING! DING!] AH: The winner of the match.. "SUPREME BEING" JEREMY RHODES!!!!!!!!!!! [ANOTHER BIG POP! as Rhodes rolls out of the ring.. throwing his arms into the air as he backs up the entranceway in a flash!] JR: What a night! DD: I feel like the worst outcome of a match keeping repeating itself over and over and over again. JR: Jeremy Rhodes getting on the winning track as Adam Donovan really showed his stuff but was taken by surprise and defeat- [MIXED POP!!] DD: What the?! JR: Donovan getting back to his feet.. but Dane Levine has just slid into the ring right behind him with a chair in hand! DD: Christ! JR: He swings! [CCCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!] ["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: LEVINE JUST DENTED THAT CHAIR ACROSS THE BACK OF ADAM DONOVAN'S SKULL!! AND THE GAMMA DOG JUST HIT THE MAT LIKE A LUMP OF BRICKS!! DD: And the fans are damn near cheering the Dynasty? Maybe it does snow in Hell! JR: Levine dragging Donovan towards the near corner.. not sure what he has in plan here as Donovan is completely out of it.. DD: More punishment I reckon. JR: He rolls Donovan onto his back now.. oh no. DD: Awww yeah.. JR: Dane Levine putting that chair over the face of the down and out Gamma Dog and he's now decided to climb the turnbuckle?! DD: This is getting better, Jake.. this is good stuff. [Levine reaches the top.. the crowd somewhat pops again as he wastes no time leaping.. and going into a slow spin backflip.. ..FLASHBULBS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.. TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MASSIVE, MASSIVE HARDCORE POP!!!!!!!!!!] JR: RISING STAR SPLASH!!! RISING STAR SPLASH JUST CRUSHED THAT CHAIR INTO THE FACE OF DONOVAN!! OH MY WHAT IMPACT BY DANE LEVINE!! DD: RULAGE!!! JR: And it looks like Levine is feeling the aftereffects of his own beating two weeks ago as he rolls off Donovan and really seems hurt as he clutches his back in pain.. DD: Well, he did get his ass relatively handed to him two weeks ago. JR: No doubt about it, but justice is sweet. DD: Amen. JR: Levine back to a knee.. and you gotta believe he feels good about what he's just done.. and although I don't condone.. I do understand. [Levine staggers up to his feet, clutching his back as he walks over toward the side of the ring, demanding a microphone from the ringside attendant, who quickly hands it to him. He walks around the ring for a moment, until he stumbles upon the bloody body of Adam Donovan. Looking down at him, a sneer crosses the lips of Dane Levine.] DDL: You've got a lot of damn nerve ... you come in here to the GIW and the first person you attack is the Dynasty!? You've got to be out of your god damned mind! Obviously, you haven't done your homework ... otherwise, you would realize that I am the single most talented superstar in this whole damn company! [HEEL POP! The crowd really lets him hear it after that remark, but nevertheless, Levine continues.] DDL: What exactly did you _expect_ would happen? Huh? You thought I'd just roll over and die like a punk ass little bitch, did ya? Well, as your ignorant ass so eloquently put it ... [Levine pauses, kneeling down next to the Gamma Dog as he puts the microphone right in between them both, their faces merely inches apart.] DDL: _Fuck_ _that_! In fact, fuck you if you can't handle someone having a good time. Oh, what was that? [Levine leans in a little closer as if trying to hear something that the unconscious Donovan might have said.] DDL: [mockingly] You don't like hearing me talk? Well, guess what? Too damn bad! Dane Levine speaks when he damn well pleases and there ain't a _fuckin'_ thing you can do about it! [Levine stands up and is practically red with anger as he thinks about the embarrassment he suffered just two weeks ago at the hands of Donovan. Most of the crowd is even a little shocked, though they're used to hearing rude comments, this is the first time Levine's actually cursed up a storm. He takes a minute to walk off the anger and frustration, calming down a bit before he continues.] DDL: You think you're good enough to take on a Dynasty? I welcome you to try. In fact, I hear that the GIW is having themselves a little 'tribute show' ... [Crowd pop for mention of the supercard!] DDL: So, since I know that you aren't just going to learn your lesson from all this and walk away like a good dog, [smirks] I'm issuing you a challenge instead. South Laredo, Texas. Laredo County Fairgrounds. There's a long list of names that belong to all the blood that's been spilled there. And On Hallowed Ground, your name will be added to the list. [Levine walks away from Donovan, headed to leave. But just before he can step through the ropes, he turns and looks back at Adam Donovan as he slowly begins to stir.] DDL: Kiss my ass, Gamma Dog. [Levine tosses the microphone out of the ring and it lands with an audible 'thump' as he steps through the ropes and leaves ringside, with a mixed reaction from the crowd as though they're not sure whether to cheer him on or if they should still hate his guts.] DD: Hot damn! Levine was pissed! JR: I've never seen Dane that agitated and he sure put the whoppin' to the Gamma Dog.. injury to insult perhaps after Adam lost his debut to Jeremy Rhodes.. DD: Gamma Dog is having a rough night, but he's one tough sonofabitch.. and Levine may soon get what is coming to him. JR: But in the meantime.. let's hear some words from Jamie roth about his match on deck. [The camera is immediately focused on Jamie Roth, who is leaning against a locker backstage in the Marina. Roth is simply standing there, his arms folded. He's clad in a sleeveless "Deftones: White Pony" shirt, along with his wrestling gear. Jamie's hair is different from the last time we saw it -- it made the transition from bleached to blood red. Certainly a different look, that's for sure. Roth looks up at the camera -- and here's something new -- he's got a shit-eating grin on his face.] JR: Porter, I saw you last week. [Jamie pauses to chuckle.] JR: You've got no hype, Porter. You're just a fuckin' redneck and people can't understand half the shit you say. [And he used to be such a nice guy. But Jamie shrugs and utters a sigh.] JR: But, I dunno, man. Maybe it's not right to make fun of your accent. It's natural. There's nothing you can do about it. Then again, at least you seem a bit more refined than Shane Destiny. Now _that_ was a hell of an accent. Shit, I'm digressing. Anyway, you've probably heard nice things about me, Porter. You've probably had people tell you that I'm a nice guy and all of that stuff. Man... [Again, Jamie chuckles, shaking his head.] JR: I hope you didn't listen to them. You're gonna be seeing a different side of me, Jack. You might be all rough and tough... but trust me, when it comes down to it, there ain't gonna be a damn thing you can do to save yourself. I'm sick and tired of being pushed around. I'm sick and tired of not living up to my full potential because I thought it was more important to be someone who actually showed some fuckin' respect for this business. Well, to say the least, I learned an important lesson. Everybody's an asshole... so if you can't beat 'em, you might as well join 'em. You're not gonna push me around like you did Jamison, Jack-o. Jamie Roth has evolved into something more. That means hell's coming your way, kiddo. That means tonight isn't gonna end to fuckin' nicely for you. You'll be "over" all right, but not in the way you think. [A long, long pause. Jamie rubs his chin, apparently thinking to himself. A moment later, he looks up, but his attention is set on someone off-camera.] JR: Hey, uh, how was that? VOICE: Nice an' mean, Jamie. [Jamie nods a self-assured nod.] JR: Hmm, cool. [The youngster walks off-screen as we fade to whatever.] DD: He needs to grow some balls.. that was a better side of him, like the hair too. JR: Jamie is definitely getting edgier.. DD: He has to, it's the Grand Isle way.. well.. for those of us with more than four teeth. JR: Riiiiight. Let's head over to Hervez for the official introductions.. [Cut to drunk bastard master man!] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest ees scheduled for one fall.. with a tweenty meenute time leemit.. introducing first.. [The opening acoustic guitar strums of "Superman's Dead" by Our Lady Peace begins resonating inside the Sand Dollar Marina. The crowd comes alive with a good face pop when Jamie Roth emerges from the entrance, led by the lovely Angie. The two of them head towards the ring, this time barely interacting with the fans.] AH: He makes his way to the ring accompanied by the lovely Angie [BIG TIME POP!!].. he weighs een tonight at 221 pounds.. and he hails from Saint Louis, Missouri.. JAMIE ROTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [Jamie looks signifigantly different -- the youngster isn't all-smiles as he was before. His eyes are fixed in the ring. His hair is blood red and thoroughly spiked up top. Besides all of the other modifications in appearance, Jamie's ring attire remains the same as always -- blue tights with flames blazing up around each leg and kneepads worn underneath, white wrestling boots, and white tape around the wrists. Angie looks as cute as always -- auburn hair let down, a black spaghetti strapped cocktail dress wrapped around her petite frame.] AH: And his opponent.. [The ominous beginning to CCR's "Run Through the Jungle" plays in the Marina as "Suicide" Jack Porter walks through the curtains. Dressed in blue trunks with a yellow stripe down each side, with kneepads, boots and wrist tape that are all white, as well as a blue denim vest and a black Stetson, Porter stands in the aisle for a minute, soaking up the atmosphere. Soon he begins to walk down the aisle, dodging the hands waving at him, slightly smiling to himself as he goes. Once in the ring, Jack shrugs off the vest and discards the hat, giving them to a ring attendant as he warms up.] AH: Een the ring at this time.. he weighs een tonight at 248 pounds.. and he hails from Corpus Christi, Texas.. here is.. "SUICIDE" JACK PORTER!!!!! [Heel Pop! as Porter just glares down Roth from across the ring.] ------------------------------------------- Grand Isle Wrestling: Singles Contest!!!!! Jack Porter vs. Jamie Roth Written By: Matt Furnish ------------------------------------------- DD: This Roth kid doesn't have a chance in hell. Look at Porter ... he's so much bigger than this Jamie Roth punk. JR: Sometimes it comes down to ability over how strong you are. DD: Yeah, right. [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: Well, I guess we'll be finding out because Porter is wasting absolutely no time at all as he goes after Roth! Porter lunging in for the tie-up and Roth ducks underneath Porter's arm to avoid the lock-up! Roth showing us that he's got a little agility and speed advantage over Porter, so you can bet that'll come into play tonight. DD: So what? As soon as Porter gets ahold of him, this thing is over. [Porter gives Roth an arrogant grin and challenges him to try it again. Porter goes in for the lock-up, but Roth once again ducks underneath ... only to get a knee right into the stomach from Porter!] DD: See that? Roth might be faster, but Porter's smarter. [Porter sends Roth toward the ropes, but then pulls back on his wrist at the last second, bringing Roth right back at him ... [THWACK!!!] ["OHHH!!!"] ... as he delivers a brutal short-arm lariat, securing an early advantage as the head of Jamie Roth is practically taken off his shoulders!] DD: AND DOWN HE GOES! JR: A little show of power there by Porter, not cutting Roth any slack right off the bat here. Wasting no time, Porter is right back on Roth as he brings him back up to his feet. Hooking him up is Porter ... [Porter wraps Roth into a front facelock and goes to lift him up ...] JR: ... and the suplex is blocked -- Roth with a small package!! [The ref doesn't expect the move and is slow to get to the count ... ONE!!!!!!!!!! DD: Porter kicks out! It's gonna take a hell of a lot more than that if Roth wants to even come close to beating this guy. [Roth back on his feet, as is Porter. Porter looks a little frustrated and he moves in to lock-up with Roth, who drops down to the mat and takes Porter with him in a drop toe hold! Roth quickly snaps on an STF, wrenching back with the hold. Porter fires back at Roth's head with an elbow, followed by another which causes Roth to break the hold as he gets back up holding his eye. Porter is up as Roth turns to face him and just as he does ...] JR: Porter scoops Roth up ... and drops him to the mat with a bodyslam! Porter off the ropes ... into the air ... [THUD!!!] JR: ... nobody home! Roth rolls out of the way of the elbowdrop attempt from Porter! [Porter gets back up, shaking his arm slightly to loosen it up after landing on it hard. As Porter turns around, Roth is right there with a perfectly placed dropkick to the jaw, dropping Porter back down to the mat!] DD: Dammit, Porter, don't let this little bastard show you up! JR: Perfectly executed dropkick from Roth and he's waiting as Porter gets back up ... Roth hooks him up ... [THUD!!!] JR: ...and takes him right back down with a snap suplex! [Roth is right back up, not even waiting for Porter to reach his feet as he runs off the ropes as Porter gets back up to a vertical base ... [THUD!!!] ... and Porter counters a high cross body attempt with a huge powerslam that _drives_ Roth right into the canvas!] DD: That's what I'm talkin' about! Stay on him! JR: Big impact with that powerslam right there and Roth is understandably slow to get back up to his feet. Porter is right there waiting as he sets Roth up ... [THUD!!!] DD: And drops Roth right down onto his head with a piledriver! Roth's skull just popped off the mat like a basketball! [Porter takes advantage and quickly rolls Roth up for the pinfall ... ONE!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! ... and Roth kicks out before the referee can even think about coming down for a three count!] JR: Roth isn't out of this thing yet. We know for a fact that this kid's got heart and he's not about to give up yet! [Porter picks Roth back up to his feet and then sends him for the ride with an Irish whip into the ropes. Roth comes off the ropes and Porter is right there to lift Roth up off his feet ... ... and Roth floats over behind Porter to counter the spinebuster as he jumps up into the air ... [THWACK!!!] ... and drops Porter to the mat with an enzuigiri! Crowd pop! Roth drops onto Porter for the cover ... ONE!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! DD: Porter kicks out! JR: Porter only down for a two count and Roth wraps him up with a headlock... [THUD!!!] JR: ... and Roth with a DDT! He goes for the cover! ONE!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! THR -- KICKOUT!!! [Angie looks on in disappointment as Porter kicks out, but then she's right back to the apron to give words of encouragement to Jamie Roth.] JR: And Porter barely gets the shoulder up in time to avoid the pinfall! DD: Are we even watching the same match? Porter was just taking a minute to get his thoughts together. JR: I doubt he's even having thoughts while he's down there. After a DDT like that, it's all you can do just to get your shoulder up off the mat before the three count. DD: How would you know? JR: I've got a vivid imagination, how about that? DD: Yeah, well there's a difference between imagining things and actually having it done to you. Why don't you go in there and find out for yourself what it feels like? JR: No thanks. I'll take my chances commentating. [Porter is back up onto his feet and Roth is there to assist him. Roth whips Porter into the ropes, Porter off the far end as Roth throws out a clothesline ... ... but Porter ducks underneath and wraps Roth up into a sleeperhold!] DD: Hah! Intelligence pays off again! JR: Porter's got that sleeper cinched in tight as he brings Roth to his knees, cutting off the circulation to the brain. Roth's trying desperately to hang in there and you can tell it's taking every last breath just to stay conscious. [Porter wrenches in the hold and Roth raises his hand up into the air to let the ref know that he's not out of this thing. Roth works his way up off of his knee, legs shaking as he tries to fight back. Roth bends forward and then delivers a hard elbow shot to the ribs of Porter! And another one sends the bigger man reeling! Roth off the ropes ... [THUD!!!] ... and Roth is dropped by a hard lariat!] JR: Porter not going for a cover after that clothesline, obviously looking to inflict more damage on Roth. Porter pulls him up off the mat and hooks him up in a rear waistlock ... [THUD!!!] DD: And Porter takes Roth down with a belly to back suplex! You could practically see the air being driven from Roth's chest after that move and Porter may have just sealed the deal! [Porter goes for the cover and referee Eli Francois is right there to make the count ... ONE!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! THR --- KICKOUT!!!] DD: Lucky little sh -- JR: DIRK! DD: What!? I wasn't gonna say nothin'! [Porter looks frustrated and he's bitching about the three count to Eli Francois, smacking the back of his hand against his palm three times to signify a three count. Francois tells him it was only two and Porter sighs, turning back toward Roth ... [THWACK!!!] ... and Porter's head is snapped backwards as Roth hits a beautifully executed superkick to the chin! Big crowd pop! Porter goes rolling to the outside and Jamie Roth raises his arms to the crowd, who all respond with a big chorus of cheers! Roth over to the ropes and he grabs hold of the top rope, measuring Porter up.] JR: Roth looking to use the ropes here ... ["OHHHH!!!"] JR: ... and he goes right over the top rope onto Suicide Jack with a plancha! [Roth and Porter are both a little slow to get back up to their feet. Roth is the first one up and he drags Porter over to the guardrail, setting him up with his back to it. Right by his side, Roth hooks his leg around Porter's ... [CLANK!!!] ... and drives his head and back right into the steel guardrail with a side Russian legsweep!] JR: Porter goes right into that steel guardrail, but I think Roth might have hurt himself with that move, also. DD: There's the ignorance of Jamie Roth. If he had any smarts at all, he'd know to throw just the _opponent_ into the guardrail and not his own body. JR: A lot of these guys are risk-takers in many different senses of the word, sometimes it's by how high you fly and others it based on how much of a beating you can take. And Jamie Roth can take a beating. Roth is the first one back up to his feet and he's just dragging Porter over to the apron and rolls him back into the ring. [Roth slides in after Porter, who's back onto his feet as well. Roth goes for a quick forearm to the head of Porter, but he ducks out of the way. Roth turns around to face Porter, who lunges forward with a lariat, but that's ducked by Roth! Porter and Roth both turn around to face each other and Roth leaps up into the air, hopping up onto Porter's shoulders with a hurracanrana ... [THUD!!!] ... but Porter reverses it into a devastating powerbomb! Porter falls on top of Roth for the cover ... ONE!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!! MASSIVE HEEL POP!!!!] DD: That's it! Porter wins his debut match! [Referee Eli Francois stands to his feet and raises two fingers up into the air!] DD: I don't freakin' believe it! JR: TWO! It was only a two count! Somehow, Jamie Roth was able to get a shoulder up, but that was one of the closest damn calls I've ever seen in my life! I could have swore Eli's hand had come down for the three and Jamie Roth gets a huge break right there! DD: You're tellin' me ... this match should be over right now! JR: Porter's getting in the face of referee Eli Francois and it looks like he's arguing the two count. DD: Damn right. Stupid official needs to learn how to count faster. [With Porter giving the referee a piece of his mind, Jamie Roth slowly gets back up to his feet and shakes off the cobwebs. Roth suddenly gets an odd look in his eyes as he sets his sights on Porter, who is still talking to the ref. Porter shakes his head in frustration and then turns back to face Roth ... and Roth drops Porter to the mat with a quick double-leg takedown! Crowd pop! Roth begins wailing away on Porter's head with a series of hard rights, not letting up at all.] JR: Roth out of nowhere with that double leg takedown and he's delivering right after right to the skull of Jack Porter! The official getting in there to break this up, but Roth just keeps firing away with one after another! DD: He's snapped! Somebody get him off of Porter! [Angie seems a little worried by the sudden change in style from Jamie Roth. Roth is threatened by the official to break it up or he'll get disqualified, but Roth keeps on pounding away on Porter's skull. Blood can be seen coming from out of Jack Porter's mouth and off of his forehead as Roth's fists continue to fly! Eli Francois suddenly grabs Roth's arm and tries to pull him away from Porter, but Roth is too strong and the referee goes falling to the canvas as Roth pulls forward!] JR: Roth's going nuts in there and Porter has been busted open! DD: Somebody needs to get control of this match! [Roth goes right back for Porter's head, but the small distraction was all Porter needed as he delivers a hard low blow to Roth, which sends him falling off of Porter!] JR: LOW BLOW! And if there's anything that will stop an onslaught like that, it's a blatant low blow like that! DD: And the best part is that the referee is down, so he didn't see a damn thing! [Suicide Jack gets back up to his feet and wipes his hand across his head, taking away some of the blood. However, it seems to just get replaced with more soon after.] JR: Porter's wound is pretty bad, but from the look on his face, I think it's safe to say that he's seeing red. DD: Jesus Christ ... how long did it take you to think of that one? JR: You're a shining example of a person to go to for encouragement, Dirk. DD: Yeah, I know. [Porter begins stomping away on the chest of Jamie Roth, obviously enraged after the beating he just took. Porter picks Roth up and delivers a hard right of his own that sends Roth reeling! Porter reels back and nails him with another one! Porter whips Roth off the ropes, goes for a clothesline, but it's ducked by Roth, Roth off the opposite side, charges Porter as he turns around ... [THWACK!!!] ... and Roth gets nailed with a huge discus punch that sends him staggering and falling right out of the ring! Heel pop!] JR: And a bleeding Suicide Jack sends Roth right through the ropes to the outside with that big time discus punch! DD: You can't tell me he didn't have that coming. [Porter follows Roth to the outside and begins pounding on him while he's on the outside. Porter breaks from the beating as he goes off to the side, grabbing a chair. Roth slowly gets back up to his feet ... [THWACK!!!] ... and Roth gets the chair right across the back from Suicide Jack, who then tosses the chair into the ring. Roth, clutching his back in pain, gets pulled back up to his feet by Porter. Porter rolls Roth back into the ring and then slides in after him.] JR: And this match is about to get even bloodier as Porter's going right for that chair! Porter's looking to cause some major damage after Roth opened up that cut on his forehead! DD: Do it, Porter! Clock him one! [Porter waits as Roth gets back up to one knee. Porter steps forward and throws all of his weight behind the chair ...] [CLANK!!!] [HUGE CROWD POP!] JR: ROTH WITH A LEAPING SPINNING LEG LARIAT INTO THE CHAIR AND THAT CAME OUT OF _NOWHERE!_ PORTER'S DOWN AND BLEEDING! DD: What in the hell ... ? [Angie jumps up in excitement as Roth connects with the move, a big smile on her face.] JR: Roth is up! Roth is up! DD: No! God dammit! Don't let it end like this! [Porter slowly staggers back up to his feet and backs right into an inverted headlock ... [THUD!!!] ... and drops Porter with an inverted DDT, right onto the steel chair!] DD: NOOO!!! JR: JAMIE ROTH WITH THE SHOEGAZER ONTO A STEEL CHAIR! AND THIS ONE HAS TO BE OVER! [Roth drops onto Porter for the cover and Eli Francois is there to make the count ... ONE!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!! CROWD POP!] DD: Did he get him ... ? [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: He did! Jamie Roth has won this match! DD: I don't believe this. AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. the winner of the match.. JAIME ROTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [BIG, BIG FACE POP!!!] DD: I like his new drive, but damnit.. he's not good enough to beat Porter! JR: But he just did! And that's all that matters! DD: This night sucks balls. JR: For you. Jamie Roth leaving the ring with Angie now as Porter has rolled to the outside and is not far behind.. but definitely chugging slow and holding his head. [Without warning, a deep mellow sound of a guitar reverberates through the Sand Dollar, as a weakened voice speaks over the sound system.] #Where do I take this pain of mine #I run but it stays right by my side [Without a second more, the guitar blares to life as the Metallica's "Until it Sleeps" echoes throughout the Marina. A HUGE heel pop ignites over the jam-packed Sand Dollar as the chaos is swallowed into the night sky. A camera zooms its way up the make-shift aisle finally stopping at the curtains. Suddenly the curtains explode as Sierra Hayes burst into the isle, bouncing with unparalleled energy! As the cat calls commence, the camera focuses in on the Grand Isle Wrestling Heavyweight Championship on her shoulder.] JR: What are these two up for now? DD: I don’t know, but if McBaine really DIDN’T take those pills that Sierra has had him taking for the last couple of weeks, I’m almost scared to ask. JR: For once I agree with you. #So tear me open, pour me out #The things inside that scream and shout #And the pain still hates me #So hold me until it sleeps [After a few moments, a hand emerges from behind the curtains and slowly begins to pull one of the curtains to the side. A massive figure dressed in black jeans, boots, a tank top with a face hidden behind his matted hair appears in the aisle way. A rather large eye patch can be made out beneath the hair and a litter of scar tissue stitched closed covers the figure’s body. It is "Bad Eye" McBaine. He soon follows Sierra to the ring but unlike most nights... there is something in his eye.] JR: Look at the look on McBaine’s face. DD: It’s damn right scary. JR: It seems as though he’s all about business tonight. DD: Business? What business?? They took care of that tubby bastard last week for good! JR: I seriously doubt that. [Once both Sierra and McBaine reach the ring, the vixen is the first to grab a house mic from ring side as McBaine leans himself tiredly against the turnbuckle. Sierra eagerly surveys the crowd, licking her chops.] Sierra: GUESS WHO’S BACK??? [A chorus of ‘boos’ over take the ‘arena’ as the ecstatic look on Sierra begins to fade slightly. She brushes her raven colored hair behind her left ear as she stares out into the crowd looking almost hurt.] Sierra: Yes, that’s right!!! Your _HEAVYWEIGHT_ _CHAMPION_ has RETURNED!!! [HEEL POP!] [Sierra’s grin slowly begins to grow again over her face.] Sierra: But I know that EACH and EVERY one of you Grand Isle fans out there knew that I would return this week. AND I know exactly what’s running through each and everyone of your minds out there. That’s right, all of you out there are saying to yourselves... "What is our WONDERFULLY AMAZING champion, Sierra going to do for us this week?" [HEEL POP!] JR: So she can read minds now too? DD: I think it’s more like hear voices. JR: Good point. Sierra: After all it is _ME_ that causes all you people to run back here week after week after week. Whether it is myself teaching the two bit, keystone cop rejects around here about respect... Making an example of one of you redneck toilet cleaners out there... Or even putting that FAT, DISGUSTING, BLOB of a man, City Jac- [FACE POP!] [Sierra’s voice is all of a sudden drowned out by the masses surrounding the ring chanting the Liberty native’s name... "CIT-EE JACK" "CIT-EE JACK" "CIT-EE JACK" "CIT-EE JACK" "CIT-EE JACK" "CIT-EE JACK" "CIT-EE JACK" "CIT-EE JACK" "CIT-EE JACK" A sneer blossoms quickly from her face.] Sierra: Go ahead and call for him! It doesn’t matter!! He learned his lesson last week when _I_ put him through a _FLAMING_ _TABLE_!!! [HEEL POP!] Sierra: Yeah, that’s right! I did something that NO ONE ELSE in this federation has done! AND that’s just ANOTHER reason why this federation needs me as its Champion! Let’s face it, there isn’t another person in this federation who you really want to watch, week after week! Do you really give a FUCK if a SECOND RATE COWBOY is going to get his back broken by some OVER-THE-HILL NAZI??? Does ANYONE one out there care if some WHITE-BREAD, GOODIE TWO SHOES can survive the wrath of some OVER-GROWN OAF that my Baby has crushed already?? [The animal instincts within Sierra take over as she begins to pace around the ring, sneering at all who watch her.] Sierra: And this new INFLUX of talent?? It’s only happening because of ME and my BABY!! Every one of those never-was, no talents are in this federation because they are just PRAYING for the moment that _I_ can walk past them and my FAME and TALENT MIGHT just brush off on them! Tommy Ganz... Corey Irons... The Gamma Dog... But you fans out there don’t really care about them! The ONLY reason why you cheer them is the same reason why the Romans cheer for the Christians... ‘Cause they loved to see the lions FUCKIN’ FEAST!! [HUGE HEEL POP!] [Sierra pauses for a moment to catch her breath, as she tries to calm her heaving chest. Through all of this McBaine has stayed pretty quiet in the corner but now has made his way right behind her.] Sierra: I- [Mixed Pop!] [Suddenly McBaine grasps hold of the microphone in Sierra’s hand, yanking it away. She stares at him in disbelief but he pays no attention as he walks passed her, good eye locked on the ring floor before him. As he brings the mic to his lips, another small mixed pop can be heard.] JR: McBaine is going to speak! I think he’s had enough of this vixen speaking for him! DD: It’s the FIRST time since NiNO JR, SHUT UP and let the man talk!! [McBaine stops moving, eye still fixed on the ring floor.] McB: Months ago, a man coveting my title... my life... my reputation... thought that he would be able to take all that he wanted from me by proposing a match... A match that only did he truly know all of the details to... a fact that brought him much comfort, even though the match was one designed to steal the careers and lives of the competitors that entered it... Spidernet Death Trap... [HARDCORE POP!!] McB: I remember seeing his face before the match... As I dug a grave for his determined body... He absolved his sins, allowing himself a clean slate in which to cover with my blood... [McBaine lightly shakes his head.] McB: Once encased in the fight, to this day I can remember how much fight... how much HATE... he kept in his soul for me... it came out in each and every punch he landed upon my face... and every poured forth from every gash I made on his body... A fact which pointed but only one course of action to take... if I planned to stand here today... [McBaine finally looks up to the open sky above the Marina, eye lost in the stars.] McB: So I climbed to the Heavens... [McBaine drops his head back to the ground.] McB: And then took us both to Hell... [HUGH Hardcore Pop for the one of the defining spots in the night that barred the Grand Isle from ever participating in New Orleans in the future.] McB: It was the only way to slaughter his spirit... to douse the flame of hate that burned within him... But I lost something from my own soul as well... [McBaine runs his free hand through the jet black vines of hair hanging down in front of his face.] McB: The days following... I awoke with a piece missing from deep within me... confused... lost... alone... Struggling to fight through the haze clouding my vision... But then one person appeared and somehow the mists began to fade into the night sky... much like tonights. [McBaine turns to finally meet the love struck eyes of Sierra by his side. She clasps her hands over her mouth as her eyes trembling with excitement.] DD: HE’S GONNA PROPOSE!! What a match made in HEAVEN!! JR: More like hell! DD: Hey! [McBaine takes a step closer to her, peering deep inside her.] McB: This person entered my life and accomplished something that no one has been able to do since the faithful day the vision in my right eye was stolen and replaced with the vision of ‘enlightenment.’ I owe this person... I owe them for dragging me back from the depths that I had sunk to due to what I THOUGHT I had lost... I owe them for helping to ‘enlighten’ myself to the fact that I had never lost that part of my soul when I buried Russ Brady... no, it was never placed six feet under the Earth with career and corpse... It was just here... [McBaine points to his chest, possibly trying to point out a heart IF it ever existed.] McB: And for that ‘enlightenment’ I have something VERY important to tell them... [McBaine takes a step closer to Sierra so that they are practically nose to nose, even though he towers over her petite frame. A single tear begins to trickle down Sierra’s cheek as she waves her hands in front of her trying to breath.] DD: Isn’t this romantic?? We’re about to witness HISTORY! JR: Good Lord. [McBaine pats his jean pocket as he backs off a step from his love.] McB: But first... CITY JACK! Get your ASS OUT HERE! [The crowd gives a loud cheer as the former GIW Television Champ, City Jack, enters and makes his way to the ring. Once at the ring, he stops and kind of looks around, not knowing what to really make of the situation. But his pausing stops as he decides to just enter up into the ring, requesting a mic on the way.] CJ: So what's all this here now, huh? You... And you... [Jack points to Sierra.] CJ: ... Sure as hell don't just call out City Jack for no fun, now. Your woman can't handle that a one-armed man was still able to take whichever of you is the champion to a draw? McB: Jack... [McBaine looks deep into the face of the Liberty native.] McB: I remember the first time I had heard of your name, back in the LWC... Not the TRUE LWC... but that version they tried to resurrect after I dominated it for nearly a year. I remember you quickly became the ‘hot rising star’ of good ole South Laredo... But then things shut down, much like all independents do at some point. And then before you know it, I happen to find you standing across the ring from me, opening night of this federation... The same night I began the death of a mythical giant... you captured the Grand Isle Television Championship... And week after week you defended it... victory after victory people soon began comparing us... wondering which one of us undefeated champions would prevail in a meeting... and so they had it... which proved to have no definite victor... [McBaine looks down at Jack’s arm and chuckles a bit for the first time in months.] McB: And then of course you happened to run into Rembrandt... and well we all can see exactly where that left you... CJ: Hey there, pitbull, I know better than anyone else what's gone on in my life, especially my own career here and over there in that South Texas. If that's all this is, I ain't got no problems relivin' it on my own... And certainly don't want to hear it from a twisted puppet like you. So you got somethin' of a point or should I just go back? [McBaine doesn’t answer as the seconds multiply. Finally he speaks.] McB: The point IS... that all this history proves but one thing to me... Despite your revoltingly jovial attitude and vomit-inducing dancing... you could very well be a Champion... a REAL Champion in a federation one day... All you lack is the opportunity... And since you helped me see through my personal hard times... ‘enlightening’ the Enforcer of Enlightenment if you will... I have decided to repay you... [McBaine reaches into his pocket as Sierra’s eyes widen in disbelief. She clutches at McBaine’s arm yelling at him to which he shoves her off!] [BIG FACE POP!] JR: McBaine just push her AWAY! DD: What’s going on here!?!? I don’t understand!!! [As McBaine’s hand retrieves something from his pocket, City Jack takes a small step back watching him carefully. McBaine then opens his hand revealing a crumpled piece of paper which he hands to Jack.] McB: You offered your hand to me and pulled me through the darkness... Now I extend mine to you... that is a Grand Isle contract... signed and delivered calling for you, City Jack to call for a Heavyweight Title match WHENEVER and WHEREVER you want... [POP!!!] McB: I repay all debts, Jack... and now we are even... [McBaine extends his open palm to the Fatman, a serious look on his face.] DD: I DO NOT BELIEVE THIS! JR: McBaine GIVING a title shot to City Jack on HIS terms AND extend his hand in FRIENDSHIP??? DD: What in the HELL is going on here??? Is this the Twilight Zone?? CJ: Well this'd be a day in hell! I never thought I'd hear somethin' like that from cold-hearted bastard like you... But if that's what you want. [Jack takes McBaine's hand and shakes, to another pop.] CJ: Then that's what you've got - a deal, right there. My word... [Jack, still amazed, looks down on the contract with a smile, knowing his good deed to help even an enemy has paid off. As he goes to exit the ring, McBaine turns his attention to Sierra in the ring.] McB: AND now that brings me to you... [McBaine spins around and meets the bright eyed gaze of Sierra right behind him, still confused by what just occurred. He takes a step closer to her as she slowly begins to back away from him... not know what to expect. McBaine reaches into his pants pocket and removes his fist. He raises it to about her eye level...] McB: For all that you have done for me in the last couple of months... [McBaine slowly begins to release his fingers from his fist as she watches him intently and... SSSSMMAAAAACCCCKKKKKK!!!!! THHUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!! TREMENDOUS FACE POP!!] JR: McBAINE JUST SLAPPED THE TASTE OUT OF SIERRA’S MOUTH!! DD: NOOOOOOO!!!! JR: I’m sure that has been a LONG TIME coming for McBaine! Finally he’s freed himself of that Bitch! DD: Are you advocating VIOLENCE against WOMEN??? JR: No, but... sometimes it’s called for damnit!! She had him drugged up for weeks!! [McBaine steps over on top of Sierra who is now crawling on the ring mat, holding her face. McBaine reaches down, grabs her by her hair and yanks her up to his face.] [CROWD POP!] [Jack suddenly pauses from exiting the ring and watches what is developing in the ring.] McB: Did you not think that I would at some point realize what you were doing to me?? Did you not think that I would overcome all the drugs... all the lies... and see you for what you truly are?? [Sierra tries to squirm from his grasp to no avail, her face redden from the blow. Tears begin to stream down her face as terror tries to choke the words from escaping her mouth.] Sierra: P-p-please!! B-b-baby!! I-I-I l-l-love you... [A drip of crimson begins to slide down from the corner of her mouth as she begs for mercy. A twisted smile begins to breed across McBaine’s face as he leans in and licks the blood from her chin causing her to shudder.] McB: Sometimes love just is not enough... [WHAAAACCCCKKKKKKK!!!!!!] [THUUUUUUDDDD!!!!] JR: What a ferocious head butt by McBaine! DD: Someone has to stop this! [McBaine surveys the crowd as the devilish smile that he has been known from has finally returned. He stalks around her as she claws at his boots trying to push him away from her. McBaine reaches down and picks her up for another time.] [Mixed Pop!! ..which soon begins to be drowned out by some boos.] JR: Okay... that’s enough. She’s learned her lesson. DD: Look at McBaine’s face!! HE’S BACK!! HE’S BACK!!!! [Indeed he is... the McBaine that the wrestling world has come to love and fear can be seen in the face of the monster clinging to the neck of the woman in the ring. As she struggles for a breath of air, blood pours forth from her nose painting a gruesome sight to which McBaine seems to relish upon.] JR: City Jack doesn’t seem like he knows what to do! DD: What did you expect? Last show he wanted to do this to her himself! JR: Possibly but thing are going a bit far here! She’s barely 110 pounds!! McBaine is over 300! [Sierra despairingly tries to claw at McBaine’s face to push him away with little success.] Sierra: I-I-I... d-d-did it-t... f-for... L-love... McB: That will be sure to make things that much more pleasurable... [HEEL POP!] [McBaine all of a sudden thrusts her back into the turnbuckle, causing her knees to buckle beneath her as she crumples to the floor in agony. As tears of distress pour from her face and mix with her blood McBaine quickly leaves the ring.] JR: Finally! I think that McBaine ha- [MASSIVE HARDCORE POP!!] DD: McBaine just threw a CHAIR into the ring! [McBaine enters back into the ring and stalks over to the suffering Sierra who hasn’t been able to make it to her feet yet. City Jack, who has been just watching the events unfold, suddenly springs to action and blocks McBaine from the downed Sierra.] [McBaine examines Jack intensely.] McB: This is of NO concern to you, Jack. CJ: You don't think so? You don't think brutalizin' this twig of a woman's my concern, all while I'm this here ring? [McBaine chuckles lightly under his breath.] McB: I remember correctly... YOU were the one advocating this one to learn her lesson... whether or not it involved a ‘physical engagement.’ [City Jack nods.] CJ: I'll give that one to ya, but my teachings was to just smack the sense back into that loon there. You? You damn near killin' the woman... And, hell, knowing you the little I do, wouldn't be damned surprised if that's your thought there. So no way is this ol' sob lettin' you do any murder. [McBaine’s face turns deadly serious.] McB: Step away, Jack... [Jack, rather than moving away, just takes a firmer stance. He simply shakes his head as he looks up to the massive McBaine.] CJ: Like I said, no way... No way you makin' it past me to shed some wretch's blood. [McBaine slowly starts to nod his head as he takes a small step back from City Jack.] McB: We all make decisions in life... we all choose what we will forgo... and what we will champion... You have chosen yours... So be it... [McBaine turns his back to Jack and begins to walk away from him.] JR: McBaine is backing off! Thank the Lord! He listened to reason for once! DD: What in the HELL is happening here?? He attacks a hot girl completely in love with him AND now listens to City Jack?? JR: City Jack now turning around to check on Sier- [COLOSSAL HEEL POP!] JR: McBAINE WITH FOREARMS TO THE BACK OF CITY JACK’S HEAD!!! DD: YES!!! [City Jack staggers into the ringpost just after Sierra scurries herself out of the ring. Not to waste a second, McBaine charges at Jack with a lariet, but CJ ducks and backs out just in time.] DD: DAMNIT! JR: McBaine just hit that post chest first! And now City Jack comes running, full steam ahead! [FATMAN CRUNCH POP!] DD: That bastard's too fat for his own good! It's like a weapon, with all that blubber. JR: Jack sandwiched McBaine, and now he steps back and... And it looks like he's going for the bodyslam again! DD: Come on McBaine! Wake up and waste this fat sack of crap! [Jack revs himself up, pointing the crowd a bit before charging... HEEL POP! Right into the arms of McBaine, who easily powers Jack down with a thunderous belly-to-belly!] DD: EARTHQUAKE! JR: McBaine just pasted Jack onto that canvas and - oh no... [McBaine gets up from the move and spots the chair still in the center of the ring. He nods his head in pleasure as he stalks towards it.] JR: McBaine now going for that chair! Jack is going to be in a whole HEAP of trouble is McBaine gets it! DD: Hey, like McBaine said, City Jack chose to this. He chose to be beaten like Lydia Kellan after one of the Wifebeater's many bad days. JR: City Jack is moving now, but doesn't see as McBaine is about to pick up the cha-- [FACE POP!!!!] JR: Sierra just PULLED the chair AWAY from McBaine!! She's backed up in the corner but won't let McBaine have the chair!! DD: DAMNIT!!! Give McBaine the chair!!! JR: She looks like she's a deer caught in the headlights! DD: She better give McBaine that chair back or she's gonna be ROADKILL!! [McBaine inches closer to Sierra, her head shaking in denial. Suddenly City Jack, still on the ground grabs at McBaine's foot, drawing his attention from her.] JR: City Jack just saved this young lady AGAIN there! McBaine pulls Jack up and lays in a stiff right that staggers him a bit. And another! And ano - NO! [Crowd pop!] JR: City Jack shows some life and blocks the attempt! McBaine with the left - but Jack blocks that too! HEADBUTT! [FACE POP!] JR: Big left from Jack, and a right to follow up! Irish whip... [McBaine goes for a lariat on the return, but Jack sidesteps it and catches McBaine.] JR: City Jack with a sidewalk slam! DD: Damnit! I hate City Jack! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE! JR: And now City Jack pulls McBaine up. I have to say this isn't wise - Jack's arm still isn't a hundred percent and neither is he after the last show. There's no reason for this. DD: Have to agree with you. The longer City Jack's out here, the sicker I get. [Jack peppers McBaine a bit with a couple chops to the chest to stun the Champion before... WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!] JR: METROPILL! METROPILL! That just knocked McBaine out cold! DD: GAHDAMNIT! Why can't City Jack just die from the heart attack he's destined to? [Jack does a little dance and then looks over at Sierra, still cowering in the corner before picking up the downed McBaine and grabbing him around the waist...] [HUGE FACE POP!] DD: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! JR: BEARHUG! CITY JACK'S GOT MCBAINE IN THE BEARHUG AND THERE'S ONLY ONE THING THIS LEADS TO! DD: Come on, wake up! You've got to! JR: He better cause it looks like Jack's lining up the belly-to-belly on that chair in the ring. [As Jack's got the bearhug locked on and tries to position himself just right, McBaine tries to fight back with repeated head butts to the Fatman's face. Sierra finally pushes herself out of the corner and charges the two with the chair still in hand...] ["WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"] [HEEL POP!!] JR: NO! NO! NO!!! DD: YES! YES! YES!!! JR: That BITCH with a shot to back of City Jack's head just saved McBaine! Why would she do that?? DD: It's all for love Rodgers! JR: Love my ass! McBaine almosts KILLS her and the one man that stands up for her, she STABS him in the back!! Disgusting!! [McBaine gets his wits together and sees the chair in the ring that Sierra just tossed on the ground and the still bent- over Jack. Sierra frantically points at the chair as the Champ gets up, albeit slowly.] JR: Kick to the gut keeps Jack doubled over... McBaine powers Jack on his shoulders! [THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!] DD: BLIND VALLEY DRIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! JR: City Jack is out of it! His head just got destroyed with that death valley driver of McBaine's, right onto that chair! DD: Sweet! Maybe that fatman's neck is broken. JR: I hope not! But it looks like McBaine's not done. Damnit, just leave! You've done all you need to do! [McBaine approaches Jack, but doesn't go to hit him... Rather, he searches down into his jeans' pocket for something.] DD: YEAH! Weapon time! What do you think it is, Jake? A switchblade? Ice pick? JR: None of the above, I hope. [Well, you get your wish Mr. Rodgers...] JR: Pills? Neon green pills? ... Oh, no! Those must be the pills that Sierra's been using to drug McBaine these past weeks! DD: And we saw earlier that McBaine didn't take those four pills. Guess Jack's going to add "drug habit" to his list of disorders, right next to eating, drinking, and impotence. [McBaine gets on one knee and forcibly opens the mouth of the KO'ed City Jack to thunderous boos from the crowd. Sierra approaches the scene with delight as McBaine drops the four green pills into Jack's mouth and shuts the Fatman's mouth.] JR: THAT BASTARD! We don't know what those pills are for or what they could do to City Jack! And now he's shaking Jack's head to make sure those pills go down his throat. DD: Come on, City Jack! It's not the first time you've swallowed something. [McBaine stands up slowly the pills have disappeared down Jack's throat, smiling sadistically. Sierra runs over to him and grabs his arm which only last a mere moment due to him shoving her away from him and onto the ground. McBaine eyes her for a second, before grabbing his GIW Heavyweight Championship and exiting the ring. Sierra, frantically fighting back the tears runs after him, pleading for him to look at her. In no time they disappear up the isle.] JR: This is nuts.. City Jack being helped back to his feet by security now as he's completely out on his feet.. and just.. what are those pills?! DD: We'll prolly find out soon enough when Jack is passed out and shitting himself in the back in an hour!! AHAHAHA! JR: Not funny! DD: I thought it was. JR: Fans.. while security helps get Jack out of the ring and to the back.. let's see what the Television champ Rembrandt and his opponent, Billy Rock, each had to say about their upcoming TV title contest. [Backstage. Pacing ravenously from one edge of the scope to the other is "Serial Thriller" Billy Rock. He chokes his freshly sealed contract in one hand. The other hand simply a taped up ball of rage, still smeared with the blood of Corey Irons. He spins on his heels once more, and runs straight into a much smaller gentleman with thinning hair, wearing a cheap gray suit. After looking him over, Billy crumples up the contract and crams it into an inner pocket of the man's jacket.] Billy Rock: Make sure someone important reads that. Then yuh tell him Billy Rock aint askin' anymore. He's _demanding_ Corey Irons. Capiche? Baldy: I-- [Billy mashes his palm over the man's mouth.] Billy Rock: Just nod. [The man is obedient, and Billy releases him. Alone again, he comes to us.] Billy Rock: Yuh live. Yuh learn. The Serial Thriller doesn't like interruptions, which is what that crusty nut stain Irons can tell his snot nosed little grand pups one fine day. The same tune yuh can whistle to those same brats one day, Rembrandt, since yuh won't be producin' any of your own. It'll be a little tricky harvestin' the crops with your oats embedded in my heels. Yuh've drawn the adverse duty, champ, of findin' out that not only am I hungry ... I'm restless ... n' I'm angry. Hell, darlin', I'm straight _pissed_, and yuh can see there aint nothin' left of Irons to compensate for it. Needless to say, I'm chewin' more than that TV title off yuh tonight. [Strokes his furry jaw and grunts.] Billy Rock: I don't cushion the tread over _anyone_, and I don't fuckin' park. Red lights? In _my lane_? I roll right through 'em! There aint nothin', Goddammit, and NO ONE walkin' the globe ready to stand between me and my vocations! Not Irons! Not you, Rembrandt! Not Levine, Donovan, Nelson, or any other termite gnawin' the splinters off this barn! Top to bottom! Wall to wall! And I will _bury_ any shaving of skepticism right next to all ten shades of this Euro-nip bastard before I let you _ever_ forget it! A story will be told in that ring tonight. For two hundred Thrill Seekers out there, it'll be a tale of valor ... of truth ... of _consequence_. For one, a man named after the very same finely crushed paste he'll draw a striking parallel to when my fist unfurls ... ... it'll be a real tearjerker. [Get ready.] [You know the routine by now - one standard black backdrop, one GIW Television Champion. He's already dressed in his gear- loose black pants and a black hooded vest, and the Television Title strapped around his waist. At the moment, Rembrandt isn't even really paying attention to the camera, but rather looking off to his left, collecting his thoughts. At length, he speaks.] R: Confident, weren't you, Ganz? [Rembrandt rolls his neck.] R: Confident you were going to take my gold? Confident enough in your ability to defeat the undefeatable that you all but completely overlooked me? Watching the tape again, I wonder- have you ever seen me compete before? Did you have any idea at all what was going to happen to you prior to our match? I suspect that you didn't... But no matter. Tommy Ganz is just another body on the bonfire. [A disinterested shrug.] R: And coming up tonight? Tonight, a poor little lamb has wandered away from the flock, and is about to be slaughtered - and that poor, innocent little child iis none other than Billy Rock. [A half-snarl; Rembrandt looks away for a second, and chuckles to himself.] R: William, I can't help but question the wisdom in your coming out two weeks ago and laying down a challenge for my Television title. It makes me wonder if you, like the Ganz boy, really are as ignorant as you appear to be. You've got aspirations to come out tonight, in _my_ ring, and take me apart? You're going to end _my_ career? Dear boy, you may as well try and stop a bullet train by standing on the tracks and politely asking it to cease and desist. In other words, William, your current plan of attack is going to leave you a bloody, unrecognizable mess. [Nod.] R: The most interesting part of your lil' tykes fillabuster was how well you have convinced -- tricked -- yourself into believing that you're this unbelievably lethal competitor. That you're far and away the single most dangerous man to ever step into a wrestling ring, just because you don't care. You don't care, William? I'm sorry to be the one to break this to you, dear boy, but while you certainly are arrogant, you're anything but capable. I believe the correct phrases would be "grossly incompetent" and "disgustingly sloppy". You're as much of a force in the ring and a threat to my title as that little runt of a ring announcer, William. You see, I understand that you have some kind of inflated vendetta against the Irons boy, and the last thing you need to do right now is further sink into this sea of illusion you've created for yourself. You're not a force to be reckoned with, William. You're barely literate. You have to walk before you can run. [He rolls his neck again.] R: And I suppose it's Corey Irons' lucky day, because I'm going to see to it that you're confined to a wheelchair for a long, long time. Who, pray tell, do you think you are, coming out like that and demanding to face me? Are you a contender? Of course you're not. Have you established yourself the world over? Honestly, I'd be surprised if you could pick out your hometown on a map. You don't make demands of the greatest talent the world has ever seen, William. You don't look down the GIW roster, looking to make an impact, and say to yourself, "Hmm. This killer from Kyoto guy looks like he's a pushover. I'll challenge him!" No, no, dear William, you make your name by crushing the Jeremy Rhodes and Jaime Roth's of the business. You don't start at the top. Deep down, I may admire your courage, but the stupidity of this challenge is almost overwhelming. It's all moot, though. You want a chance to prove your worth? Fine. Just don't say I didn't warn you, William, when you're forced to back down from Corey Irons after I teach you a lesson in respect. I'm a killer, William. You're nothing. [Fade.] DD: Yikes. That's what we call throwing down the fucking trump card. JR: Remmy certainly is pumped to show Billy Rock a lesson tonight.. but Rock seems almost demanding and cocky enough to pull this one off.. and we may very well see a new champion crowned here tonight! DD: Riiiiiiiiight. And you don't have a 3 inch peter. JR: I don't. DD: Riiiiiiiight. JR: Anyway.. let's take 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 thirty meenute time leemit.. and ees for the GIW TELEVISION TITLE!! [POP!!] Introducing first.. the challenger.. # ... WHATEVER IT TAAAAAKESSSSS!!!!! ... # [GET!!!] [THE!!!] [F*CK!!!] [UP!!!] [While POD's "Whatever It Takes" roars ... AH: About to enter the ring ... hailing from Little Rock, Arkansas ... standing 6 feet 4 inches and weighing 268 pounds ... ...a silhouette validating the description formulates in the mouth of the aisle. The figure remains idle with his right shoulder pointing toward the ring ...] AH: Here is ... ... "SERIAL THRILLER" BILLY ROCK!!! [His head droops in a swathe of darkness with his chin tucked into his chest, as the shade tints his brawny, carved physique. The tendrals of hair slithering down his face, to his upper lip, sway back and forth as they're caught in his piping hot, cavernous breaths. Then, in unison with the first spool of lyrics, the "Serial Thriller" Billy Rock snaps his head backward, whipping the damp chords of light caramel hair from his face. His mane is thick and wavy, riddled with slight curls, ranging in length from his earlobes to the lower back of his neck. He ominously twists his neck, rotating his face toward the aisle, and lashing out with a vulgar crook in his upper lip. Two large pork chop sideburns outgrow the rest of the five o' clock shadow on his face ...] [Billy calmly swings one foot out in front and visually inhales his surroundings, then walks the aisle. His chest swells chillingly as the camera spirals around him. The hands are taped heavily from his knuckles to about three inches above his wrists. The light ricochets off the gleaming material of his steel gray, thigh length tights. The back of these tights carry the emblem of a confederate flag with it's edges tattered and torn, and Billy's own twist. An orange canvas behind a pair of blue crossbones. The white stars rallying across each bone lead to a white skull in the center wearing a sinfully immoral grin. There'll be an exact replica on the front sans the orange backdrop. Billy wears steel gray knee-pads, and just below these, a pair of white and black cowboy boots ...] [He takes the steps to the apron, turns his back to the crowd, and clinches the top rope. His broad shoulders rise and fall as though a surge was just channeled from the ropes through his body, and then Billy climbs into the ring, taking a corner, awaiting the bell ...] AH: And his opponent.. # WHEN YOU'RE RIPE YOU'LL BLEED OUT OF CONTROL! YOU'LL BLEED OUT OF CONTROL! # [HUGE HEEL POP! GIW Television Title strapped around his waist, the Killer from Kyoto himself steps through the entranceway, annoyed grimace on his face. He's dressed in a pair of long loose black pants, a black hooded vest, and black boots with blood red kickguards. As "Elite" by The Deftones blasts throughout the marina, Rembrandt slowly makes his way down to the ring, focusing less on the crowd and more on Billy Rock. Upon reaching ringside, Remy pulls himself up onto the apron and steps through the ropes. He removes the Television Title and hands it to the referee, and then sheds his vest and moves into his corner, stretching out his legs as he waits for the bell.] AH: Eenn the ring at this time.. he weighs een tonight at 240 pounds.. and he hails from Kyoto, Japan.. he ees your GIW TELEVISION CHAMPION [HEEL POP!!].. here is.. REMBRANDT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [MONSTER HEEL POP!!! as he just icy stares down Billy Rock who scoffs and awaits the bell.] ------------------------------------------------- Grand Isle Wrestling: Television Title Match!!!! Rembrandt [c] vs. "Serial Thriller" Billy Rock Written By: Mike Gilliland ------------------------------------------------- [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: And there's the bell.. and the TV title match is under way! [Remmy and Rock pull out from their corners.. both circling in the center of the ring as they drive in with a collar and elbow tie-up..] JR: Quick go-behind by Remmy.. power hoist leg blocked by Rock! Another hoist.. and blocked again! Big backelbow catches Remmy on the side of the face releasing the hold as Rock runs off the ropes.. DD: Get em Rembrandt! JR: Rock on the return.. but gets caught by Remmy! [Thud! Heel Pop!] JR: And a nice overhead belly to belly suplex puts the challenger on the mat! [Pop!] And he's right back up! Remmy turns.. [Pop!] DD: Yikes! JR: Rembrandt getting peppered with huge rights and lefts by Billy Rock who's backing the TV champ into the ropes! Pushoff the ropes.. Irish whip by Rock.. Remmy off the farside.. incoming as Rock ducks! [Thud! Pop!] JR: And drops the TV champ right on his back with a _huge_ back bodydrop! Remmy back up and charging! [THUD! POP!!] JR: Powerslam!! And the cover by Rock!! One!!!!! Kickout!!! DD: Not a snowball's chance in Hell, Jake. JR: Maybe not.. but worth a try. [And the challenger wasting no time here as he pulls Remmy back to his feet.. hoisting him into the air and slamming him backfirst into the turnbuckle.] JR: Rock charging in.. and drills Remmy in the stomach with a big kneelift! And now he's just driving those knees into his breadbasket.. over and over.. Remmy starting to slump into the corner.. DD: Dayumn.. Rock is actually on fire. JR: Billy Rock pulling Remmy out of the corner.. Irish whip hard across the ring now and that has Remmy jarred in the turnbuckle! Rock charges! [But as he comes in with a big running lariat.. Remmy ducks out of the corner!] [Heel Pop!] DD: Possum! JR: Rock backpedaling from the turnbuckles.. [TTTTTTTHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!] [HEEL POP!!!!!!!!] DD: OH MY YES! JR: And Remmy with a vicious spinning roundhouse kick to the back of Rock's skull that has sent him chestfirst into the turnbuckle.. he's jarred back again.. and into the arms of the champ!! [Who hooks in a half nelson!! AND THEN HE LIFTS!!] [TTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [HEEL POPPAGE!!!!!!] DD: HALF NELSON SUPLEX WITH THE BRIDGE!!! JR: ONE!!! TWO!!!!!!! KICKOUT!!!! [Pop!!!!] DD: Damnit! I thought this would be a short and quality night for the champ.. why delay the inevitable? JR: Rock far from done here as he clutches that head.. while the champ sits up and gets his own bearings under him. DD: You think Remmy is gonna give him ANY room to breath? JR: Definitely not as he lines up the right shoulder of Rock.. and drives a knee into the socket! And another! And another! Rock clutching that right shoulder as Remmy quickly scoops him off the mat.. DD: Time for the surgeon to do surgery. JR: Quick hammerlock of that right shoulder as Remmy holds and digs Rock in with a front chancery.. he lifts.. [Thud!! Heel Pop!!] JR: And a nasty hammerlock suplex dropping Rock right on that right shoulder! And now the Ozark Beast is down clutching that right shoulder.. and Remmy has picked his part. DD: Which is what makes him more than a competitor.. this kid is dangerous, flat out hazardous. JR: and he's targeting that right shoulder of Billy Rock's.. which he now pulls up off the mat.. spins around.. and drops to the mat with a nasty arm grapevine on that right arm!! DD: WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! [Rock yelps in pain.. as he reaches out with his large wingspan towards the ropes that aren't too far away.. he keeps inching his way as Remmy sinches in that arm grapevine with nasty intent!] JR: Rock in serious pain here.. as he stabs out.. and grabs the bottom rope.. Eli Francois telling Remmy to let loose the submission.. which the champ does with no emotion in his face.. DD: He's a tactical killer.. he's not worried.. that was one of a thousand submission moves that he can put you away with. [Rembrandt pulls Rock back to his feet.. wasting no time Irish whipping him into the ropes..] JR: Rock on the rebound.. Remmy hooks and tosses.. big armwhip of that right arm as Rock hits the mat!! Remmy holds! And drops a leg right across the exposed shoulder and upper arm joint of that right arm! DD: Beautiful! JR: Remmy up.. still holding that arm.. and drops another big legdrop across the shoulderjoint that has Rock grunting in pain! The champ lets go and pulls the big man off the mat.. DD: Corey Irons has to be loving this.. he's softening up his prey for him. JR: I'm sure he's backstage quite pleased.. but that is of no concern right now as Remmy fires Rock off the ropes.. pulling a leg back as he eyes Rock on the return.. SNAP KICK!! [But Rock stops dead in his tracks and catches the leg to a nice pop! And then.. Thud!!! Pop!!] JR: Big dragon screw legwhip counter by Billy Rock and now it's Remmy holding that left leg! Rock rotating that shoulder joint trying to work it back out as Remmy is trying to get back to his feet as soon as possible. DD: And it's not gonna take him too long.. JR: Obviously as Remmy right back up and shaking that left leg as he charges out at Rock.. who instinctively drops down with a dropkick! [POP!!!!!!] JR: And catches Remmy right on that left kneecap! He just wiped Remmy out! Rock up quickly feeling it as he pulls the champ up as well! Go behind by the challenger.. he slips a head under Remmy's arm and grabs that left leg up! He lifts!! [THUD!!! POP!!!] DD: GAH!! JR: Big shinbreaker by the challenger!! And now it's Rock with the submission move!! He's locked the champ with a left leglock.. applying major pressure to the kneejoint as he twists the bottom portion of the leg with brutality! DD: Remmy can't give!! Even if he breaks that damn leg, he won't give! JR: If he breaks the leg.. the rest of the match should be relatively easy, wouldn'cha think? DD: Gah! Die! JR: Remmy slamming those paws on the mat in anger and not in submission as he's trying to inch backwards towards the ropes! [And he's close.. close enough that Rock just releases the hold.. getting up and driving one of his own fresh knees right into the left kneejoint of Remmy! And again!] JR: Remmy getting a taste of his own medicine courtesy of the challenger now.. DD: The gay porn star.. hopefully he won't try to plug any of Rembrandt's holes. JR: That's goddamn wrong. [Rock pulling Remmy back up quickly.. sorta shrugs before pulling Remmy into a standing headscissors..] JR: I have a feeling Rock is uping the level right here.. double underhook! He lifts! [And holds.. the crowd wowing as Remmy is looking straight down into the mat.. TTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MONSTER POP!!!!!!!!!!!!] DD: GOOD GOD!! JR: DOUBLE UNDERHOOK PILEDRIVER!! DOUBLE UNDERHOOK PILEDRIVER!! HE MAY HAVE KILLED THE TV CHAMP!! THE HOOK OF THE LEG!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THRE-SHOULDER UP!!!!! [SHOCKED FRUSTRATED POP!!] DD: TOO CLOSE DAMNIT!! JR: I can't believe the champ kicked out! DD: Believe it Jake, because he's still alive! But I'll give Rock his props.. that was devastating! JR: That it was, and frustration setting in on the face of Billy Rock as well.. as he gets back up and seems ready to give it a go again.. DD: He wastes no time, I see. [Rock slowly but surely peels the TV champ off the mat.. shrugging that right shoulder again before getting the crowd to pop by pulling the somewhat limp Rembrandt into an inverted fireman's carry!!] DD: Noooooo!! JR: THAT'S THE SET-UP FOR THE OZARK DEATHRIDE!! IF HE HITS THIS IT IS ALL OVER!! [But he doesn't as Remmy slips off the right shoulder out the backside.. Rock instantly clutching that shoulder in pain..] [TTHHWWAAPP!!] [TTHHWWAAPP!!] [TTHHWWAAPP!!] JR: Remmy connecting with viciously snarp snap kicks to the right shoulder of the standing Billy Rock who hasn't even been able to turn around yet.. Remmy not giving him that luxury as he jumps in with a rear waistlock! No.. now clubbing overhand rights.. Remmy locking that half nelson on the right arm again.. but this time he locks the left with a chickenwing?! DD: Oh yes!! [Remmy wastes no time.. lifting Rock into the air caught in a heavy predicament.. ..FLASHBULBS!!!.. ..TTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MONSTER HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: TIGER DRIVER '85!! REMMY WITH THE NASTY TIGER DRIVER VARIANT AND HE'S GOT THE BRIDGE?! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THR-SHOULDER UP!!!!!! [SURPRISED AND HAPPY POP!!!!!] DD: WHAT?! I demand a recount! JR: This isn't Florida! DD: This isn't a couple years late humor time neither! JR: Touche. DD: Douche. JR: Those don't sound alike. [...] JR: Regardless.. Billy Rock rolled a shoulder out to the surprise of everyone here, including Rembrandt who is sitting up and seems pissed! DD: Wouldn't you be? It's like trying to kill the unkillable ant or some sheeit. Or a fly.. or something. JR: Riiiiiight. [Ok.. back on track. Remmy has slowly gotten back to his feet.. peppering Rock's right shoulder with some heavy boots as Rock rolls onto his stomach.. giving Remmy just enough opportunity!] JR: Remmy to the mat.. he's got that right arm.. [HEEL POP!!!!!!] DD: FUJIWARA ARMBAR!!!! JR: Rembrandt is cranking up and back on that right arm and shoulder with the vicious Fujiwara armbar! DD: Lethal anywhere outside Jeff Matthews' locker room! JR: Huh? DD: Nothing. JR: Remmy cranking back and Rock is screaming with rage and pain as he's trying to use that free arm to reach for the ropes.. but they are caught nearly in the center of the ring!! DD: He's trapped!! Give up homo butt porn star guy! JR: Good lord. DD: Well, he is! JR: He's also moving slowly towards the ropes as Remmy continues to add pressure with that dangerous Fujiwara armbar.. and even if Rock can somehow fight through this.. that entire arm and shoulderjoint may be useless the rest of this entire match! [Rock grunts and groans in pain.. but is inching closer and closer to the ropes as Rembrandt continues to crank on the elbow and upper right arm.. ferocious in the least.] JR: I'm not sure how much more Billy Rock can take, quite frankly, I'm not sure how he hasn't given up already at this point! DD: His "heart" is about to run out! [POP!!] JR: It doesn't matter!! Rock reaches the ropes and Remmy is forced to release the venomous hold.. which he does quickly and deftly! DD: For a reason! JR: Remmy back up now and taking what appears to be a short breather.. before stomping away on that shoulderjoint again.. really working that arm over to the extreme.. DD: He's an assassin, Jake, a pure killer like his nickname indicates. JR: There is no doubt about that. And the Killer from Kyoto wasting little time pulling up the big challenger.. a man who has put Remmy to the test tonight.. Remmy driving a snap kick.. and another right into that right shoulder as Rock stumbles back and lands in a corner.. seemingly completely out of it. DD: He's dead to rights right now. [And Remmy senses that as he backs up across the ring.. and charges!] JR: Rembrandt charging the corner with a full head of steam.. and leaps with a knee stri-, ROCK MOVED!! [POP!!] Rembrandt hit the corner left knee first.. that worked on left knee!! He stumbles back.. AND RIGHT INTO A ROLLING CRADLE!!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THR-KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!! [SO CLOSE POP!!!!!!] JR: SO CLOSE!! REMMY ROLLED OUT AT THE LAST SECOND!! DD: And both men are cruising back to their feet?! Have they no end?! JR: Both men right back up.. Remmy charging again.. KICK TO THE STOMACH BY ROCK BENDS THE CHAMP OVER!! STEP THROUGH BY ROCK.. PUMPHANDLE LIFT!! [TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MEGA, MEGA FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: OH MY GOD!!! PUMPHANDLE MICHINOKU DRIVER!! PUMPHANDLE MICHINOKU DRIVER ON THE CHAMP!!! THE REACH OVER AND HOOK OF THE LEG!!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREEEEEEEEEEE-KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!! [SHOCKED DISAPPOINTED POP!!!!!!!!] DD: AND AGAIN REMMY KICKED OUT!! HE'S A TRUE GOD OF THE WRESTLING RING!! BOW BEFORE HIM!! JR: Amazing! And Rock is upset.. he's frustrated and who can blame him! Everyone thought he had the win.. everyone thought we had a new champ.. but no! Rembrandt just won't stay down! DD: Heh, Rock is so frustrated right now.. I bet he wants to deck Francois.. that'd make my day. [And he looks like he may.. but instead he rolls out of the ring.. lands on the concrete below and quickly starts to pace towards the timekeeper.. or more like.. his chair!] [Hardcore Pop!!] JR: And in comes the hardware! Billy Rock sensing he needs to up the violence level to become the third Television champ in our history.. and he's bringing in that chair to prove his theory correct! DD: Or.. you coulda just said.. he wants to spray Remmy's brains all over it with one baseball bat-like swing. JR: True enough. Rock rolling back in the ring with that chair in hand as he lifts it high into the air to the delight of the crowd.. Remmy slowly to a knee.. using those ropes for leverage as he fights desperately to get back to his feet.. DD: Desperation is for the weak.. he's just taking his time.. of which he has precious many. JR: Riiiiiight.. anyway, Rock slowly maneuvering to behind and to the side of Remmy to keep out of instant vision just waiting the champ to turn to face.. [Which he slowly does.. ..Rock stepping forward and unleashing hell.. ..AND MISSES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!] DD: THE BIG SWING WAS DUCKED BY REMMY!! ROCK SWUNG HIMSELF INTO A FULL ONE-EIGHTY.. HE'S BRINGING IT BACK AROUND TO FACE AGAIN!!! [TTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MONSTER, MONSTER HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: YAKUZA KICK TO THE CHAIR!!! REMBRANDT JUST YAKUZA KICKED THAT CHAIR RIGHT INTO THE FACE OF BILLY ROCK!!! HE PUT THE CHALLENGER FLAT ON HIS BACK!! WHAT A SHOT!! DD: RULAGE!!!!! JR: REMBRANDT WASTING NO TIME!! HE'S MOVING THAT CHAIR INTO THE CENTER OF THE RING!! BACK AND PICKING UP ROCK!! DD: DO SOMETHING NASTY-LIKE!! [...] JR: FRONT CHANCERY AND LIFT! [TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!] [SUPER HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: FISHERMAN'S BUSTER!! FISHERMAN'S BUSTER ON THE CHAIR BY THE CHAMPION!!! THE COVER!!!!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [DING!! DING!! DING!!] AH: The winner of the match.. and still GIW TELEVISION CHAMPION.. REMBRANDT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [RIDICULOUSLY LOUD HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!] DD: HE DID IT!! REMMY RETAINS!! JR: This man is a menace.. who can stop him?! DD: Nobody! Absolutely nobody! JR: Rembrandt pulling out more head droppage than I've ever seen from him tonight.. and it worked as he leaves the champ! DD: He's an all around wrestler, Jake.. everyone needs to realize that. [Rembrandt grabs the title from Francois and just exits the ring.. not acknowledging shit..] JR: We'll see what kind of man he is when Jeremy Rhodes gets a good piece of him. DD: Rhodes?! Tonight was a fluke for Rhodes, period. JR: We shall see soon enoug- [These two bickering has caused them not to see the big man sliding into the ring with another chair..] "CRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAACKK!!!!!!" JR: COREY IRONS! It's COREY IRONS! What on earth is he doing here!? DD: He came running in through the crowd! Obviously making sure Billy Rock doesn't play a factor in Irons' match with Verhoeven later on in the evening! [Irons stands over the fallen Billy Rock, steel chair in hand. The crowd BOOS as Irons stands over the fallen "Serial Thriller." Irons' head is bandaged from his earlier encounter with Rock.] JR: Well, Billy signed his contract with Irons' BLOOD earlier on in the evening. It wasn't a pretty sight, but neither is this! [Irons then rolls out towards ringside, and grabs an empty beer bottle from a drunken fat man in the front row. Irons pushes the drunk man to the ground, who utters a few curse words towards the "Extreme War Machine." Irons then rolls back into the ring, and reaches for his belt.] DD: Well it's about to get worse, Jacob! Look what Irons is doing! JR: Oh for crying out loud, the man is unconscious damnit! That's enough, Irons! [Irons sheathes a long, sharp-bladed scythe. As the camera zooms in, we notice the word "Butcher" engraved in it, as if an omen of sorts for his match later on in the evening.] JR: WHAT!? He's not gonna, he... he wouldn't! [SHOCKED POP!!!] JR: IRONS JUST JABBED THE TIP OF THAT SCYTHE RIGHT INTO BILLY ROCK'S GUT! DD: HAHAHA! So much for his gay porn career! [Billy Rock's unconscious body twitches as Irons jabs the scythe into Rock's skin.. security making their way to the ring but very wary of entering the ring with a man with that type of weaponry.] JR: What's the meaning of this!? SOMEBODY STOP HIM! DD: But look what he's doing, JR! He's FILLING that beer bottle up with Billy Rock's blood! [The crowd GASPS as Irons fills it up just a bit.. not too much as Rock isn't bleeding like a complete stuck pig, which is a good thing, yeah.] JR: Stop him damnit! Stop him! This is SICK! DD: Security is at ringside, Jake, if you haven't noticed. JR: And finally they are entering the ring! [Yep, an apparent hoard of security guards come to the ring, with medics to come to Billy Rock's aid. They pry Irons away, who merely laughs and backs away willingly, knowing the damage is done. He reaches for the canvas, dabbing his hand in Billy Rock's dripping blood.] JR: Oh great, what's he doing now? [The crowd boos as Irons SMEARS a dab of blood on either side of his face, now looking like a hunter going for the kill.] JR: I think I'm gonna be sick... [Irons smirks as he exits the ring, blood-filled bottle in hand.] DD: I told you Irons would get his revenge! JR: And he did.. just let him leave the damn ringside already. DD: Rock is toast when these two meet.. absolute toast! JR: Irons gone to the back but it's only going to be momentarily as he is scheduled to battle the Butcher next! DD: Death to the German! JR: But first let's take you to the back.. [The camera makes a quick cut to the backstage area, more notably the door to the "Sierra & McBaine" locker room. The door to the room suddenly bursts open as McBaine storms from the room and into the hallway with his small, black duffle bag hanging from his shoulder. A single, petite blood stained hand reaches out from McBaine and touches his bare shoulder.] [McBaine spins around quickly to find the blood and tear soaked face of Sierra Hayes. She shudders back in terror of the monster that had sadistically attacked her minutes before, as McBaine gradually licks his lips at the sight of her. Her vision drops to the ground as her whole body trembles in dread of him. He leisurely approaches her, coming within an inch of her shivering body...] Sierra: B-b-baby... [A devilish smile crosses McBaine’s face as he tenderly runs a finger down the side of her swollen face. As he reaches her chin, he hooks his finger beneath it and gently raises it to meet his gaze. She forces a nervous grin as she looks deep into her attacker’s eye with the same sparkle that has always been there for him.] [The seconds pass as they both simply gaze at each other, not saying a word. She takes a step closer to him and lifts her head slightly almost bringing both of their lips together, his finger stroking the tender skin of her throat. Her flushed lips open and mouth the words... "I love you" as McBaine deeply inhales her scent.] [He tills his head to one side, while wrapping his giant paw around her neck, bringing her face to his and… THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMP! SLAMS her back-first into the wall!] [McBaine chuckles to himself as his wounded love collapses to the ground in a weakened heap. He presses to fingers to his lips and blows a kiss to her almost motionless body. Her sobs of suffering can be heard now as McBaine surveys his work... CRAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! McBaine methodically turns towards the distraction as the pleasured look on his face is hastily sucked from his visage and replaced with a sneer. There before him is Lydia Kellan, jaw gaping, a bag fallen at her feet, tears welling in her eyes.] [They stare at each other but for a single moment, before McBaine takes a single step towards her, causing her press her body up against the wall and bury her eyes in her hands. McBaine sorts, trying to bottle a bit of laughter as he passes right by her and down the hallway.] [Lydia soon forces herself to breath as the GIW monster disappears down the hall. Her eyes, now utterly filled with the slick wetness of fear, blink over and over again fighting for their full vision as she cautiously approaches the weeping, rag-doll that was known as Sierra. Lydia kneels down besides her and begins to rubs her back, trying to comfort her.] LK: It will be alright. He’s gone now... [Sierra looks up at Lydia, eyes bloodshot from the tears, mascara running down her face mixing with the dried blood covering her face. She tries to speak, though her helpless eyes say it all...] Sierra: I-I-I... l-love him... [Lydia runs her hand through Sierra’s jet black hair and pulls her head into her chest; much like a mother does a child.] LK: I know... I know... [The two ladies grip each other tightly as the tears flow freely. Sierra buries her face into Lydia’s neck as she clings to her emotional savior with a bond not ever seen in the GIW before.] LK: We’ll get through this... [Lydia strokes her new found friend’s hair softly as Sierra looks up into her eyes with an uneasy smile, born only from the loving reassurance from their new physical and spiritual bond. Lydia forces her own smile and kisses her new friend lightly on her forehead.] [Cut.] JR: I'm no fan of Sierra Hayes, not in the least.. but that McBaine is sick and should be criminally charged for assault! DD: And who is gonna press charges? Sierra?! AHAHAHAHA!! She's too love struck to do that. And plus.. this isn't Cops man, so let the act rest. JR: Whatever man.. it's wrong. DD: I don't recall saying it was right. JR: In any case, let's hear what Corey Irons and Otto Verhoeven both had to say about their match here in a few minutes time. "They say that ‘legends’ never die..." [A cool breeze fills the nighttime air in the quiet town of Grand Isle, Louisiana. A cheap, low-quality camcorder pans to a ground level view of the Sand Dollar Marina. The crimson lettering in the top left corner of the screen repeatedly flashes the word "Rec". As we zoom in, a lone figure comes into view. Nestled against the outer wall of the Marina is the "Extreme War Machine" Corey Irons. He sits, with his legs arched, knees tucked towards his chest. He is clad in a baggy white T-shirt, boots, and a pair of long cut-off jeans. He tilts his head backwards against the wall, never once breaking his composure.] Corey Irons: For the sport of wrestling, its history can be traced back a long way. Some trace its origins to ancient times, when gladiators were forced to dazzle arenas by fighting amongst one another. Others say it evolved from various sports, and served as a form of "organized" fighting. Either way, the sport adopted its own legendary superstars, hall of famers that would serve as the cornerstone of our game. It was up to these men to leave behind memories, and etch their names in the history books. In ancient times, one gladiator would triumph at the expense of another man’s life. In the modern era, one man’s victory leads to the downfall of another man’s pride. During the late nineties, our league of "legends" and "hall of famers" emerged, thus writing the first chapter in the golden age of wrestling. And then there’s you, Otto. [He pauses momentarily, collecting his thoughts before continuing.] Corey Irons: You were a part of all that. You were there when the "Lone Wolf’s" era was in full force. You were a major superstar, competing on the same level as the original "Outlaw" and our famous "Cowboy". You were the predecessor to men such as today’s "Golden God" and "Legend Killer". You were around when Portland was the capital city of the wrestling world. _You_ held their big gold. _You_ headlined their shows. [He lifts his head from off the concrete wall behind him. Turning slightly, he gives the camera a sideways glare.] Corey Irons: You ruled in Portland. You ruled in Laredo. You’ve held world titles. You’ve locked up with the greats. But there’s just one thing wrong with this picture, big man... You’re in Louisiana now... And you don’t rule _here_, yet. Sure, you’ve stood toe-to-toe with the legends. You’ve worn your armor, and raced into battle against the monsters, dragons, and giants of this sport. Back in the day, you were a force to be reckoned with, a legendary figure all his own. You were a man who was heralded like some mythological figure, one that could move mountains, or turn things into gold. But y’see, that’s where it all ends. ‘Cause y’know what? This isn’t 1997 anymore. [He tugs on the dog tag around his neck, then proceeds to push aside a strand of his long, wavy brown hair.] Corey Irons: Yet they call you "the Butcher". They praise you as the "Teutonic Terror". They hold you in high esteem as the wrestling world’s "German Juggernaut". To you, these are the words make you proud of your past. To wrestling fans, critics, and promoters alike, these are the words that put you on that pedestal, thus keeping your name etched in wrestling’s history books. But to _me_, Otto, those words mean one thing, and one thing only... Jack shit. [He scoffs, then pulls himself up from the ground, as if to change the pace of his speech. He smirks, once again giving off that arrogant expression he is known for.] Corey Irons: So, I bet you think you’ve got me all figured out, right? I suppose the folks out there expect me to wave a finger in your face, and tell you that you’re just some washed up old has-been. They probably think I’m gonna stand here and tell you that your time, and your era are already a thing of the past. They probably believe that I’m here to tell you to wither away, while the new wave of troops takes the stage. So y’know what, Otto? Let’s _skip_ all that. So, about everything I just said? Well, Otto, contrary to popular belief, I’m not reciting all of this for the sake of telling you the same thing everyone else is gonna say. I’m _not_ here to tell you that your time is up, or that your days are numbered. I’m _not_ asking you to wither away, and step into your grave while the "new school" bastion takes the stage. They may indeed call you the "Butcher", the "Teutonic Terror", and the "German Juggernaut". So, I’m not asking you to degrade everything that you’re known for... I’m asking you to _prove_ it. [He nods.] Corey Irons: The POINT is... It’s up to you to _make_ those words mean something to me, Otto, as you have done for so many people in the past. I could sit here and tell you that your time in the limelight is over. I could sit here from now till kingdom come and tell you that it’s now my time, and not yours. But that’s not what I came to Grand Isle for. So, to put it all into perspective... I’ll be _damned_ if I have to face a washed up old has-been. [He paces, and places his hands on his sides.] Corey Irons: I didn’t lie when I said that this wasn’t 1997 no more. I know it’s been five years since you’ve been the top dog. But y’know what? _You_ can change that. You can dazzle the ring again, and dominate the roster as you once did. Hell, forget about Bobby Taylor. For _one_ night, forget about how he insulted your family name, and put your nephew on the shelf for God knows how long. Forget about your little avenger mission, and forget about your desire to stick up for your kin. For _one_ night, leave it all be. I can push Billy Rock aside, if it means getting a piece of you. I’ve said it from day one, Otto, that the reason I came to Grand Isle, was this... I wanted to see how I matched up. You’re the answer to everything that has plagued me ever since I first stepped through those curtains. And as I said, some "legends" never die. So you better be alive and kicking once that bell rings, and I come racing across the ring to knock your head off your shoulders. [He breaks his stare on the camera, pacing calmly.] Corey Irons: You better be damn ready to give me the fight of my life. I’m not here to cripple an old man, Otto. I’m not here to place the final nail in the coffin of your career. Hell, I don’t want to beat up on a man who can’t throw a haymaker the way he used to, or swing a lariat the way he once did. I didn’t call you out for the sake of paralyzing a washed up old fool. In fact... I’m here to face the _man_, the _myth_, and the _legend_ we’ve come to know as Otto Verhoeven. _This_ is the man I want to beat. _This_ is the man I _will_ beat. So bring him to me, Otto... [He stops pacing, and takes one final stare at the camera, which zooms in on the cold-blooded look in his dark brown eyes.] Corey Irons: Bring him to me... [And with that, we fade.] [SCENE: Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven is sitting on a bench in his locker room. He is already in his ring attire and very slowly taping his hands with white bandages, never looking up at the camera.] OV: So, the victim escaped. [Even while he speaks Verhoeven does not acknowledge the camera. His deep, booming voice carries no emotion. It is monotone, more like a machine than a man.] OV: I had Taylor right there in that ring and I failed to fulfill my promise ... my duty ... to avenge my nephew. Why? Why was the time not right? What went wrong? It was not supposed to go like this. [Otto is finished taping his hands and only now does he look up at the camera. There is the familiar hatred in his eyes, yet his voice remains unwavering.] OV: Taylor escaped and I was covered in the middle of the ring by a meddling runt. Ray Wilkins better savors his triumph. Few have had the chance to defeat me in the past. Perhaps I am not ready yet to achieve my goal. [Verhoeven holds his huge hand up and stares at it, his eyes narrowing as he seems to inspect every inch of it.] OV: Perhaps my absence from the ring has made me soft and vulnerable. Perhaps ... NEIN! [Suddenly Otto lashes out with his hand as he closes his eyes and shakes his head. He hits the camera and the cameraman stumbles to the side. There is a moment of static before we see Verhoeven again. He is standing now, looking way more agitated than just a moment before. There is rage now in his voice, pure, wild rage.] OV: Enough with those doubts! I am Verhoeven! The Teutonic Terror! The German Juggernaut! [He lowers his voice for the next two words as he calms down again.] OV: The Butcher. I showed weakness the last time I stepped into the ring. Tonight, it will be different. Tonight, I will show Taylor that I have not lost anything. _Anything_, you hear me? GIW throws another fighter at me that knows his way around the ring, that has tasted the rush of violence, that knows the feel of blood running down his fists. He calls himself the "Extreme War Machine" and I wonder if he knows just what those words mean. I wonder if he can imagine how a war in that ring really looks like. Casualty. A reality of war. Does that word have any meaning for him right now? Or will he only begin to recognize its terrible meaning when my hands ... [Once again, he raises his huge right hand, this time clenched into a fist.] OV: Hammers down on him again ... and again ... and again ... and again ... [Otto's gaze wanders into the distance now as he seems to remember something of the past. The behemoth nods once, then faces the camera once again.] OV: Watch, Taylor. Watch how I turn a warzone into ... a slaughterhouse. [Cut back to ringside.] JR: This match truly has the makings of the classic young budding star against aging legendary superstar of yesteryear.. DD: And the youth will always win out. JR: Let us not speculate.. Antonio.. take it away! [Cut to Hervez.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest ees scheduled for one fall.. with a tweenty meenute time leemit.. introducing first.. [The crowd stirs and waits as the opening chords of "Would" by Alice in Chains are played over the arena speakers. Exotica comes out first to a burst of cheers from the crowd. Wearing nothing more than a small pink bikini, and a pair of open-toed high heels, she runs her hands through her long, wavy blonde hair. At the start of the first verse, "The Extreme War Machine" Corey Irons steps through the curtains, and stands with an emotionless look on his face at the top of the aisleway.] #Know meeeeee broken byyyyy my masterrrrrrr Teach theeeeeee on child of love hereafterrrrrr# [Irons looks to his left, then to his right at the hundreds of fans in the audience. Irons wears a pair of black and silver spandex, a pair of black boots that reach about a foot past his ankles, and black knee and elbow pads. Brushes away a strand of long, wet brown hair.] #Into the flood again Same old trip it was baaaaaaaaaaack then So I made a big mistake Try to see it once my waaaaaaaaay# [With the look of a cold-blooded murderer on his face, Irons makes his way down the aisle and gives cold stares to people in the audience. He makes his way up the ring steps. Irons stops at the top of the ring steps and takes a good look at his surroundings. Staring upwards, he stares out towards the nighttime sky through the Sand Dollar Marina's open roof.] #Driftiiiiiing body it's sole desertion Flying not yet quiiiiiite the notion# [The lights remain dimmed in the arena as Irons steps in through the ring ropes. He stands in the center of the ring, and raises his arms in the air. Exotica kneels down in front of him, facing the crowd, running her hands up the sides of her legs. "Would" continues to play for several seconds, and as the lights come back on, Irons stretches himself by grabbing the top rope and tugging at it, then goes over to stand on the second turnbuckle, his arms raised in the air.] #Into the flood again Same old trip it was baaaaaaaack then So I made a big mistake Try to see it once my waaaaaaaay# AH: From Vancouver, BC, Canada, accompanied by Exotica, he weighs in at 258 lbs... here is the "Extreme War Machine".. COOOOOOREEEEEEEEEEEEEEYY IIIIIIIIIIIIRROOOOOOOOOONS!!! [Big Heel Pop! as Irons waves the crowd off.. awaiting the Butcher.] AH: And his opponent.. [Strobe lights start to flash in the arena as the crowd instantly POPS LIKE MAD!! In synch, the haunting theme of John Carpenter's "Halloween" starts to blare. Then the huge shape of Otto Verhoeven steps into the aisle. He stops for a moment to look at the stands with a look of disgust on his face, then marches toward the ring, not acknowledging the crowd at all. The German's movements are tense and his jaw is working all the time. He slowly climbs the ring steps to enter the ring. Verhoeven takes a moment to glare at the referee before he moves into the center of the ring and raise a gloved fist above his head. The salute lasts only a few seconds before he lumbers back into his corner.] AH: In the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 340 pounds.. and he hails from Essen, Germany.. here is.. OTTO "THE BUTCHER" VERHOEVEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [MASSIVE FACE POP!!! as Verhoeven never acknowledges the crowd.. simply glaring down a game Doyle Woodall.] ------------------------------------------ Grand Isle Wrestling: Singles Contest!!!! Otto Verhoeven vs. Corey Irons Written By: Brian Blottie ------------------------------------------ [The bell rings, and the intimidating Otto Verhoeven stands across the ring from Corey Irons, eyeing him with disgust. I doubt Otto likes the "Legend Killer" T-shirt Corey is wearing, nor could he like the man calling out to him, trying to goad him to dive right in. But, being a legend has it's positive traits, and knowing when to attack and when to hold back is one of them.] JR: Corey Irons is trying to get Otto mad. I don't know if that's such a good idea. DD: Yeah. Might have to drop the odds on him to win to 10:1. Don't want to tip the scales in his favor _too_ much. [Sick of the non-movement from Otto, Corey walks across the ring... and slaps Otto?! No hesitation from the veteran, as he slugs Corey right in the face, knocking him back. Corey stammers _very_ quickly away, and dives out of the ring before Otto can follow him and do more damage.] JR: Why would you slap Otto Verhoeven? That's just asking for punishment. DD: But it made me smile. 12:1 odds for Corey, because I like his moxy! [Jogging around the ring, rubbing his cheek, Corey Irons is just making a mockery out of this match, telling the referee to get Otto back, smirking like a hyena who sees a gazelle. The referee advises Otto to back off, at which point Corey slides into the ring, and gets back to his feet. He "dusts himself off", then waves Otto on, ready to try this again.] JR: Corey now looking for a lockup... and Otto obliges, coming in quick. Otto just muscling Corey back into the ropes, but the referee is right there, asking for the clean break. DD: Don't do it, Corey! Take the low road! The low road! JR: And a clean break?! That's something you don't see out of Corey Irons often. DD: Hey now, are you saying he's a cheater? JR: Yes. DD: Slanderer! I'm telling Corey you said that. Then I'm telling your wife what you said about her earlier. JR: What in the world... DD: Don't play dumb with me! I heard you call her a dumb ho for not having your pancakes and grits ready in the morning! JR: Why you... [Trotting around the ring, Corey comes in fast and low on Otto, trying to take a leg. Otto is wise to that trick, and gets out of the way. Big smile on Corey's face, as he's really testing "The Butcher"'s patience here. Another lockup, but this one doesn't quite happen, as Corey thumbs Otto right in the eye, then grabs a side headlock.] JR: Thumb to the eye! And a non-devastating side headlock. DD: Are you kidding me? Corey Irons has arms like those cool tentacle-penis things in Japanese animation. He could squeeze a man's head off if he so chose. But he's not here, because he pity's Otto Verhoeven. He respects senior citizens. [Wrenching on that side headlock tight, Corey seems satisfied with his work. Otto doesn't, as he shoves Corey back into the ropes, then tries firing him off... but Corey somehow holds on, keeping the side headlock on and putting on the brakes at the same time.] JR: Counter attempt, but no go, as Corey Irons' vice-like grip keeps Otto locked in place. DD: Damn straight. Otto's so screwed here. [Another push back, and another failed counter, Corey still holding on like a cowboy on the back of a bull. Otto sees where this is going, wraps his arms around Corey's waist...] _THUD!_ [... and counters the side headlock with a backdrop driver. Yes... BACKDROP DRIVAH~! Corey Irons goes scurrying out, holding his neck, and collapsing on the outside.] JR: Backdrop Driver counters that side headlock, and if he's hitting that move _this_ early in the match, what's next? DD: He cheated! He had a really tiny feather in his hand, and he tickled the ribs of Corey Irons, loosening the man's grip! Illegal use of a foreign object! DQ THAT MAN! JR: I can really see "The Butcher" using a feather... though I can see that Otto is about to use a lot more than that, because he's heading outside in pursuit! [Not sure if Corey is hurting, or just oblivious to the fact that Otto has dropped down just feet away, but he sure realizes it when Otto hauls him up to his feet, wraps his arms around Corey's waist, and drives him back first into the apron.] JR: Otto using the ring itself as a weapon! DD: He could probably use his breath as a weapon. What does he brush his teeth with? Ground beef? [Lift, pull back, and another ring-jarring slam into the apron. Corey screams out in pain, as the fans scream out in joy. Otto turns Corey, then Irish whips him...] _CRAAAAASH!_ [... right into the ring barrier!] JR: INCOMING! [Indeed he is, as Otto gets a kind of running start, and lariats Corey Irons into the front row, causing the fans to spring to their feet (those that aren't buried under Corey's body) and peer harder, trying to get a closer look at the action.] JR: Lordy be! Lariat takes Corey Irons into the front row, after Otto tore Corey's back up against the ring apron and the ring barrier. DD: Big, fat, stinky, winky, CHEATER! JR: Did you just say... naw. Couldn't be. [Reaching into the crowd, Otto pulls Corey back over the steel barrier, and lifts a knee into his gut. Standing headscissors, lift...] JR: Powerbomb coming up! DD: Not on the floor! Not on the floor! [... and realizing that he's in some big time trouble, Corey starts squirming wildly, causing Otto to take a few steps back. He steps back just far enough for Corey to throw his body weight forward, and wrap his arms around the ring post. He clings on it for dear life, knowing damn well that if Otto powerbombs him here, he might as well call it a concussion and a day.] DD: BRILLIANT! JR: Corey Irons smartly blocking the powerbomb by grabbing onto the ring post, but he's still trapped against the steel there. [Otto knows this, and pushes Corey up, off of his shoulders. He lets him go and turns around, coming in quick as Corey slides down the post, but Otto isn't expecting a mule kick, and walks right into it, getting plastered in the face by the still elevated Irons.] DD: YESSUH! We have ourselves a WINNAH! JR: Man, oh man, Corey Irons ringing Otto Verhoeven's bell with that sudden back kick, and now he drops down off the corner post, and goes to work... _SLAP!_ "WOOOOOOO!" JR: ... with knife-edge chops! _SLAP!_ "WOOOOOOO!" [Corey bails on the choppage, seeing Otto regain his bearings from the mule kick and no-selling the chops, acting as if they were merely waking him up. Into the ring slides Corey, and Otto follows suit, only to be caught with stompage to the back of the head.] JR: Very smart thinking by Corey, getting this match back into the ring, where Otto isn't so apt to grab onto a random heavy object to bean him with. DD: He also gets to tap dance all over the back of Verhoeven's head! [Not letting up at all, Corey drops to his knees, nailing Otto in the back of the head with rabbit punches. Corey quickly up to his feet, and drops a leg across the back of the head, making sure Otto doesn't get up.] JR: Corey Irons a house of fire in there, pelting Otto with everything he has. DD: That final legdrop just made sure Otto was out, and Corey was in... THE WINNER'S CIRCLE! WOO! JR: That remains to be seen. DD: I do see it. I'm psychic. [Confident, Corey drags Otto up, pushes him back into the ropes, and Irish whips him out. Off the far side goes Otto, as Corey hits the other side... and barrels into a returning Otto with a massive lariat.] JR: Lariat, the same style that defeated Otto Verhoeven last week! DD: Say goodnight, baby! Cover-time! [SLAP!] ONE! [Kickout at ONE?! On a LARIAT?!] DD: WHAT?! JR: What fortitude! What pure guttural instinct shown by Otto Verhoeven, as he took that lariat right under the chin, and kicked out as if he were hit with a body slam! DD: He's on drugs! Check his locker! He's on teh speed! [Corey Irons is as shocked as everyone else, as he hammers on the mat in frustration, and accosts the referee.] JR: That's probably not the smartest way to go about things, especially with Otto Verhoeven laying just inches away. DD: You tell him, Corey! Let that blind son of a whore know what's what! [Sick of the non-response from the ref, Corey goes back to Otto, driving a hard kick into his solar plexus (RIP, Gorilla). He brings Otto up, and locks him into a standing headscissors.] JR: Corey Irons is trying to put this one away early, and I really don't see it happening. DD: He thinks he can, he knows he can, HE CAN! His spirit is indubitable. He's like the little train that could! Only not blue! [Lift... piledriver. Otto's neck hits the mat with a thud.] JR: Piledriver, and a doozy! DD: Cover! [SLAP!] ONE! [Again, only a one count. Oh yeah, Corey is infuriated.] JR: What will it take to stop Otto Verhoeven? How much can this man absorb? This is not like a few weak little moves. These are neck-jarring, high impact maneuvers, and _still_ Otto won't stay down. DD: The drugs! The drugs! [Corey brings Otto up to his feet, and catches him with a right hand. Boot to the stomach, and it looks like another piledriver is upcoming, as he locks on the standing headscissors.] JR: If he hits this, it should be over. DD: Should?! If he hits this and Otto kicks out, I'm calling the DEA! [Attempted lift, but Otto doesn't go up. Corey looks confused, and tries it again... but nothing. Then the confusion turns to panic, as Otto lifts and dumps Corey up and over, the thud of Corey's body hitting mat bringing the fans to their feet, applauding "The Butcher" feverishly. Otto drops to his knees, clutching his neck, but not all the way down.] JR: Back body drop counter! Back body drop counter! DD: Get up Corey! Get up fast! [And Corey does get up fast, as the shock of having his move countered wears off quick, and he scrambles to his feet. Otto up as well, and Corey tries to put him back down with a right... blocked and answered! Another right attempt... blocked and answered! Now it's Otto hitting the rights, Corey not even attempting to block, as Otto has him reeling. The old boxer starts to come through, as Otto peppers him with jabs to the face. A fist to the ribs. One to the shoulder. And finally a jaw-jarring roundhouse drops Corey Irons back into the ropes...] JR: OTTO HAS BROUGHT THIS CROWD TO LIFE! DD: OPEN THE FISTS REF! OPEN THE FISTS! [... and as Irons hits the ropes, he bounces back, into the waiting arms of Otto. Grab, turn...] _THUD!_ [... and a hellish twisting spinebuster drives all the air out of Corey.] JR: Beautiful spinebuster slam, but can it be enough?! [Otto's certainly going to see.] [SLAP!] ONE! [SLAP!] TWO! [Kickout!] DD: NOSIR! JR: So close! Just inches away! DD: Horseshoes and hand grenades, baby! [Undeterred, Otto hauls Corey up to his feet, wraps his massive arms around the man's hurting torso, and belly-to-belly suplexes him down to the mat, OLD-SCHOOL STYLE, turning his body and landing on top of Corey Irons with a thud. No cover, as Otto pushes himself up and takes a few deep breaths, trying to slow his heartrate and take the pace down.] JR: Amateur-style belly-to-belly, but that isn't an amateur in the ring delivering it! DD: It's an old, decrepit man! JR: Now Otto is slowing the pace down, doing things his way. That can't bode well for Corey Irons, because he needs to keep this fast paced, or else Otto will overpower him and make him hurt in ways I doubt Corey Irons ever thought possible. DD: Get your mouth off his jock. And wipe the cobwebs out afterwards. [Pulling Corey up to his feet, Otto wraps Corey's arm over his neck, lifts, and drops him with a belly-to-back suplex.] JR: Another nice suplex, and more damage to Corey Irons' back. We can see where the pain is being administered. DD: To my pride and checkbook! GET UP, COREY! GET UP! [A little bit of wandering, and Otto yanks Corey back up, then military-presses him...] JR: What power! Two-hundred and fifty pounds in the air! DD: Not anymore! [... and down comes the slam.] JR: Otto definitely keeping things slowed, trying to make Corey Irons suffer little by little. DD: He's a bastard. Bastard I tell ya. [More lifting, as Otto ain't through yet. This time he yanks him up horizontally, holds him and looks around, then tosses him up and over his head, driving him into the mat.] JR: Fallaway slam! And now a fist drop! DD: Sloppy cover! [SLAP!] ONE! [SLAP!] TWO! [SLAP!] JR: Yes! DD: FOOT ON THE ROPES! FOOT ON THE ROPES! [Indeed, and the referee points it out, as Corey Irons had the presence of mind still to know his ring positioning after the fallaway slam, and get his foot on the ropes at the last possible second.] JR: Incredible knowledge of where he is in that ring at all times. Corey Irons is a man to be wary of. DD: He's muh boy! [Nodding his head, Otto acknowledges the smart thinking, and drags Corey back up. Push to the ropes, Irish whip out. Corey off the far ropes, and it looks like Otto is going for a lariat, but Corey _dives_ coming off the far ropes, clipping Otto into the right knee. Otto flip-sells, landing on his back, clutching at his knee like it was shot point blank with a rifle.] DD: BRING THE PAIN! BRING THE PAIN! JR: Corey Irons has to have Otto scouted, because he knew to go right after Otto's right knee, the same right knee injury that shelved Verhoeven for an extended period of time. DD: He better get his pension in order, because Corey's not done by a long shot. [Indeed, he is not, as Corey gets up to his feet, grabbing at his back, but still knowing to stay right on "The Butcher" kicking away at Otto's right knee. Corey drags Otto to the ropes, slings the right leg onto the middle ropes, positions himself over it, then leaps into the air, coming down right across that knee. Verhoeven pulls himself away from the ropes with one hand, the other desperately trying to keep his knee pieced together.] JR: It's times like this that I wonder why ring veterans like Otto come back to the game. He knew his knee would be the target of every attack out there. Yet he still came back, and he's not just risking his career anymore, but now the very ability to walk. DD: Aw, so sad. I'd be glad if "The Butcher" was never be able to move under his own freewill again. And I'm sure when Bobby Taylor gets his hooks into Otto, he'll be trying his damnedest to make my fantasy a reality. [Staying right at the injury, Corey grabs the right knee, and yanks it away from Otto's clutching hand. What looks like a figure-four at first is instead an Indian Deathlock, and Otto screams in pain, as Corey drops to the mat, Otto's leg locked and bent in a very awkward position.] JR: This could very well be a submission here. Yes, this is "The Butcher". Yes, his never say die attitude goes against ever tapping out. But if he wants to have his chance at getting revenge on Bobby Taylor, it would be in his best interests to give up this match and let Corey Irons walk away with the victory, while he is able to _walk_ away. DD: That's the smartest thing I ever heard you say. Well, other than the whole "walk away" part. Because I want a ligament torn. Or a bone popped out of place. I want to hear Otto scream so loud that all of his past victims smile because they've been avenged. [Corey pulls himself back up, but drops down again immediately, really making sure the leg is good and gone. He releases the hold, gets up, and reapplies, but instead of going for the Indian Deathlock, he instead goes right to the figure-four. Hooked in... and the leglock.] JR: Figure-four leglock! One of the single most devastating leg submission in existence. It's only a matter of time now. DD: Ladies and gentlemen, get our your video tapes; the end of Otto's walking days is upon us! [Wrenching back, Corey only pulls himself to a seated position to yell at Otto to give it up. He just as quickly falls back down to the mat, reapplying the pressure to the leg.] JR: The leg torn asunder, the physical pain and exhaustion that Otto has to be feeling right now. This man may be the toughest son of a bitch alive, but no one in their right minds would sacrifice their ability to walk for a meaningless win. The fans won't hold it against you, Otto! Give it up! Come back to fight another day! DD: Hold on Otto! Just until you hear the snap, crackle, and pop of your kneecap! [But there is no give in Otto Verhoeven. Not even a little, as "The Butcher" muscles it up, bites his bottom lip, and somehow, someway, finds the strength to slowly... but surely... turn Corey Irons over!] JR: REVERSAL! REVERSAL! DD: EEK! [Corey scrambles out of the hold, as Otto doesn't have the strength to prevent it, but at the very least Otto stopped the pressure on his own knee.] JR: The wily old bastard has somehow reversed what I was sure would be the end. But Corey Irons is too fresh, and he's going right back for that knee. DD: Get him, Corey! Finish him for good! [Right back to the right knee, Corey grabbing hold of it, but Otto suddenly jerks it forward, sits up, and takes a big ol' swing with his right hand, connecting with a right that would drop an elephant. Corey flies backwards off of it, turning and landing throat first on the middle rope. He just hangs there, seemingly knocked clean out, while Otto Verhoeven musters up whatever strength is left in him to get up. He wobbles, and seeing that he's not going to be able to stay up for long, he just throws his entire body against Corey Irons', the ropes choking the life out of Corey as the three-hundred and fifty pounder lays over the top of him.] JR: My God! Otto Verhoeven has shocked me here. He's shocked everyone. DD: Ornery bastard needs to stay _down_! JR: I don't think he has it in him to stay down! I don't think he has it in him to _ever_ say "I Quit"! [And if he does, he's not showing it, as he pulls himself up using the top rope, off of Corey Irons. Even though he's been knocked for a loop, and just had one of the biggest men in GIW using his throat for a cushion, Corey Irons gets up and off the ropes, stumbling away. Corey doesn't know where he is, because he turns right around... right into Otto Verhoeven's waiting right hand. CROWD POP!] DD: NOOOOOOO! JR: Could it be?! Could he... [Lift... wince... but still holding him up... and Otto _drives_ Corey Irons down across his knee with the chokeslam. HUGE POP!] JR: SLAUGHTERSLAM! DD: The dumb bastard just dropped a two-hundred and fifty pounder donw on his bad knee! [Indeed, he did, as Otto collapses, his knee finally giving out on him, possibly for good. Corey Irons convulses on the mat, the work on the back earlier in the match probably not helping the fact that he was driving from almost seven feet up in the air down across another man's knee. And the crowd comes alive, but for a different reason than the action in the ring.] JR: Oh no... not now. DD: YES! YES! YES! [Bobby Taylor is making his way down, brass knucks on his hand, bad intentions in his eyes.] JR: The last thing we need is Bobby Taylor down here. The last thing we need is him ending _another_ career. DD: If he does end Otto's career, again, that'll be one hell of a notch on his bedpost. And it probably won't be his last, either. Ya know why? Huh? JR: Because Bobby Taylor is an asshole. DD: DING, DING, DING! We have ourselves a WINNAH! [The referee is checking on the condition of the two men in the ring, not knowing whether to call the match or let it continue. Suddenly, Otto sits up, shaking a bit, but actually sitting up.] JR: Get out of there, Otto! Before Taylor gets to the ring! DD: Too late! Time for the slaughter! [Slowly, Otto pushes himself up. He tests his leg gingerly, but drops down to one knee, not able to keep himself all the way up. Once again, he's up, testing his leg. He takes an apprehensive step, and almost falls over, but somehow remains up.] JR: OTTO UP! DD: BOBBY ON THE APRON! [Measuring up Otto, brass knucks in hand, Bobby Taylor waits for Otto to turn around. Otto limps gingerly, turning slowly around...] JR: NO! DD: YES! [... and Bobby Taylor swings for the fences...] [... but comes up with nothing but air, as Otto ducks the attempted blow, then shoves Bobby Taylor off the ring apron. Bobby's shift in balance combined by the shove causes him to falls back...] _CRRRRRRRRRASH!_ [... jaw first on the ringside barrier! CROWD POP!] JR: YES! YES! DD: NO! NO! [Collapsing against the ropes, Otto again has to test his legs. But he's taking way too much time. Clutching his back, angry as hell, Corey Irons gets to his feet.] DD: KILL HIM, COREY! KILL HIM! JR: Otto turning around... [... and doesn't expect Irons up, as his leg gives out on him, and he falls into Corey Irons' waiting arms, which quickly lift him...] _THUUUUUUUUD!_ [... and _drills_ him with the damnedest Extreme Smasher you're likely to ever see. HEEL POP!] JR: EXTREME SMASHER! OH GOD, THE EXTREME SMASHER! DD: GOODNIGHT, KIDS! THE PARTY'S OVER! [Corey Irons grabs "The Butcher"'s right leg, and hooks his with both his arms, yanking back _hard_ on it, using it to keep Otto Verhoeven's shoulders down.] [SLAP!] ONE! [SLAP!] TWO! [SLAP!] THREE! [No doubt about it, it's over.] JR: What a match... DD: GOODNIGHT, YOU BIG BASTARD! GO BACK TO GERMANY, AND JOIN TOMMY IN THE INFIRMARY! [Ding!! Ding!! Ding!!] AH: The winner of the match.. "EXTREME WAR MACHINE" COREY IRONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [MONSTER HEEL POP!! for the kid who rises to his feet.. smirks at the downed Otto Verhoeven and exits the ring.. walking past Bobby Taylor as they both pace back down the aisleway!!] DD: AWESOME!! JR: What a travesty.. Bobby Taylor will get his damnit, he will get his!! DD: Taylor is just smiling as he exits the marina entranceway.. he's gotta be loving every second of this! JR: Oh you know he is.. but just wait until the shoe is on the other foot! Voice: Uncle Otto! [The crowd murmurs, then reacts with a face pop when Tommy Verhoeven rolls down towards the ring in a wheelchair. The fans recognize Otto's nephew from his previous stints in wrestling, before Bobby Taylor ended his career. He is in a bad shape tonight. A scraggly beard has grown on his face and his shoulderlength, unkempt hair looks greasy. He is wearing a Transformers T-shirt with an Autobot logo and blue jeans as he rolls closer to the ring, mic in hand and look of concern on his face.] TV: Uncle Otto, please, I have to talk to you. [Otto wipes some blood from his face and stares at Tommy in obvious disbelief. TV: Please! [Slowly, the Butcher rolls out of the ring and walks towards his crippled relative. Tommy looks up at his uncle, his idol and when he speaks, his voice wavers.] TV: Uncle Otto, I want you to know that I am more than thankful for what you have done for me. You ... [He chokes for a moment. It is obvious that Tommy is close to tears.] TV: ... you were there for me when I lay in that hospital bed, in a coma. You paid the bills of the doctors. You flew in German specialists who examined my brain and my spine. You always said that family ... [Tommy sobs. Otto towers over him, his face unreadable, a single trail of blood slowly running down his massive chest.] TV: ... family had to look out for each other, and you did that. When I heard that you wanted to return to wrestling, that you wanted to make Bobby Taylor pay for what he did to me, I was overjoyed. Hatred blinded me as it fuels you even now. I wanted you to cripple the Outlaw as he crippled me, shatter his spine with a Slaughterslam as you have done it with other men in the past. But ... [Tommy looks up at his uncle and shakes his head.] TV: This is not worth it. Please, uncle Otto, I realized what you must know. It is not just your knee that is barely holding together. Your back ... I saw the medicine you have to take to numb the pain after each match. Look at you ... please, I appreciate the gesture, but this is not worth it. You have Heidi at home in Germany, and your little son. What use will the two of us be in a wheelchair? In your condition, you cannot defeat the Outlaw. I do not want to be responsible for your ... [Verhoeven snatches the mic from Tommy's hand. For a long moment, he gives his nephew a long, hard look. Then he speaks.] OV: Thomas ... you make me sick. [He lets those words sink in as Tommy's jaw drops.] OV: You always have. You were always a loudmouth, a feeble-armed youth who got more beatings in rings around the world than a Kauffman or a Quigley. You think I do all of this ... just for you? You pathetic little rodent. I do this for _my_ family. For my dead father. For my young son. For every single member of my blood who bears the name Verhoeven. You, Thomas, you smeared our name with filth when you _allowed_ Taylor to injure you like this. When you laid down and accepted the beating he gave you like a dog. I have to do this, Thomas, not for you, but for our name. You ... you are dead to me. Dead as your father. Dead as can be. [Verhoeven drops the mic into Tommy's lap and walks past him. "Halloween" cues up again.] TV: Noooooooooo. [Tommy starts to wail and sob. He buries his head in his hands and trembles.] JR: Look at that poor kid. He has lost everything. His mobility, his uncle ... DD: His pride. He is pathetic. Otto did the right thing in ... hey, the big man is turning back? JR: Perhaps he has realized that he was too hard on the young one. Hell, Tommy is paralyzed. You should treat him with some pity. [Indeed, Verhoeven hesitates, then walks back to his nephew. The crowd pops as he lays a hand on the shoulder of Thomas, who is still crying without restraint. Verhoeven whispers to him ... and then wraps a hand around his throat!] JR: OH MY GOD! DD: DO IT, OTTO! SHUT THE CRYBABY UP! [The world seems to freeze for a few seconds as "the Butcher" holds on to Tommy's throat ... until he lifts him up and brings him crashing down again, executing a chokeslam that puts him _through_ the wheelchair!] JR: MY GOD! WE NEED A DOCTOR DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW! HE IS A MADMAN! DD: Hah, I knew it. The Butcher does not tolerate weaklings in his family. [Otto does not even look at his fallen nephew as he resumes his walk back towards the entrance. EMTs rush past him, but the German Juggernaut seems to be oblivious to them.] JR: Folks, I don't know what to say. Terrible scenes here as Otto Verhoeven has just chokeslammed his own, paralyzed nephew through a wheelchair. This has to be one of the most vile, disgusting things I have ever seen. DD: What about your wife when she steps out of the bathtub? JR: Can it. I gotta ask.. as EMTs are putting that poor kid on the gurney.. do you think Bobby Taylor has driven Otto to the extremes of his behavior? I mean.. this is sick.. I respect Otto, we all do, but this is wrong. DD: Bobby Taylor has made a career out of fizzucking with people's heads.. and Otto's is no different. Except now, if I'm Taylor, I'm a bit worried. JR: That's the last type of Otto I'd wanna see in the ring across from me. DD: Exactly. [The crowd cheers nicely for Tommy who gets carted off slowly by the EMTs..] JR: Tommy being sent to the hospital and we all wish him the best, truly and deeply.. but up next we are down to our big main eve- [A familiar percussion beat. A familiar rhythm. And then...the lyrics...] #All my friends know the low rider# #The low rider is a little higher# [HUGE HEEL POP! The Marina crowd roars with boos as they see "CLASSY~!" Kendrick Lane strutting out from behind the curtains. He's dressed in an extremely loud-looking Hawaiian shirt, a black T-shirt reading "NO FAT CHICKS" across the chest, and a pair of Bermuda shorts. He stops in the middle of the aisle and begins to...walk like an Egyptian! Getting out of that mid-80's funk, Kendrick completes his strut down to ringside and with one leap, lands on the apron and gyrates his hips for the ladies, before finally stepping into the ring.] KL: I've got some sad news, folks. [Kendrick drops his head.] KL: I hate to break it to you Lane-iacs, but yes...your Classiah did in fact get his shoulders pinned down to the canvas for the one...two...three. And far be it for anyone to say that Kendrick Lane isn't a man of his word. So, as much as I hate to admit it, Dane earned the $10,000 prize. [Kendrick waves the check around, looking a bit humbled. The crowd meanwhile, revels in the moment. Not too many times you get to see Kendrick Lane in the dumps, ya know.] KL: That is... ["That is...?" The crowd doesn't like the sound of that.] KL: ...if he wasn't such a big... ...CHEATER!!! [HEEL POP!!] KL: LIAR!!! [Heel pop!] KL: THIEF!!! [Heel pop!] KL: CHEATER...CHEATER... [Deep breath, now.] KL: __CHEATER!!!!!!!!__ [Heel pop!] KL: I'd be glad to give Dane my money, but the fact is...he doesn't deserve a single cent! How obvious is it that he got old man Francois to call the match his way? I was assaulted...*assaulted!* by an official in the ring. As a matter of fact...after I'd already won that match! [The crowd throws some trash into the ring, which Kendrick of course...dodges. He's agile!] KL: So, in reality, my faithful Lane-iacs...your Classiah won! Dance, rejoice...get funky with your bad-selves! That second match? It doesn't even count as far as I'm concerned. Once again, I fall victim to another conspiracy by Tommy Ganz and the GIW to hold me back. Thought you could part me from my money, huh? But I won't let you have the last laugh. As a matter of fact, as of right now.... [He smiles, reaching into his shirt pocket.] KL: ...there's another $10,000 check on the line. But no...this is for something of a more *personal* nature. You see, what you did to me just wasn't classy, Dane. Even though you've been brainwashed by Ganz's evil manipulations, I expected so much more from the likes of you. You should've known better! What you did, *friend*... It wasn't classy at __ALL.__ [Finally, Kendrick produces...the other check. Some groans from the crowd. How the hell does an indy wrestler come up with all this money???] KL: This check...this check you see here...this check is reserved for the man that brings me the head of Dane Levine!!! [Shocked/Heel pop!] KL: So forget our partnership! Forget our friendship! Forget it all! You're dead to me, Levine. You brought this all down on yourself. I mean, heck... ...you're not even that good of a dancer! [Irony heel pop! Just to prove his superior dance skills, Kendrick busts out a mini-cabbage patch.] KL: This could've been avoided. You could've saved yourself the trouble of having me bring down the wrath of God on you and your she-male manservant. But you had to take that low road, Dane. You just *had* to prove to me that you're as bad as Ganz. That in the end, you just weren't... [He grins. The crowd groans. We all know what's next.] KL: ...CLASSY~! [HEEL POP! Lane leaves the ring and starts to head to the back.] JR: What a two-faced liar! DD: I know, Francois should be suspended! JR: Not him! DD: Oh, well.. um.. whatever! JR: Fans.. up next is our huge tag titles main event.. so let's hear some words from the tag champs themselves.. as well as from the volatile man known as The Scrayper. [In.] [Harisoto Mashima laces his boots in the background. His leather mask sits beside him, not hiding the look of utter determination and concentration upon his face. He pays no heed, going about his preparation in this locker room. In the foreground... Robert Kellan. "The Lone Star" stands, prepared both physically and mentally. He is dressed in his dark blue and silver ring attire. A Marlins baseball cap crowns his head and a T-shirt bearing the words "America: Proud _and_ Free" covers his torso. The massive Kellan... firefighter... father... husband stands, hands clenched, fierce intensity in his eyes.] RK: You handcuffed me last week... but you went after bonds much tighter, much stronger and MUCH more important. You went after something you never should have, Scrayper. You went after my wife. _My_ wife... That is something you are going to regret for a long time. Trust me... [He sneers ever so slightly, the remembrance of the incident still fresh.] RK: We have carried these belts... [He looks quickly back to his partner.] ...for a while now. We have met all challengers and won. We've done everything asked of us and here we are, once again putting these (he taps the title belt over his shoulder) on the line. [He pauses.] RK: It's different this time. It's not about the competition or being a champion. It's about being a man, a lesson you two are going to find out is a very painful one. Beating the [edit] out of me is one thing. Beating the living hell out of Mash is one thing. Putting your hands on my wife... ...is one thing you'll wish you never done. No games, boys. The fun is over. Myself and Mash are coming with something you've never seen. [Kellan rubs his hands together... anticipation.] RK: You're a seven foot demon, Nelson. You're a sick man, Scrayper. But tonight I am going to put on a mask and show you what kind of monster I can be. I am going to give you a taste of your own medicine. I am going to fight fire with fire. We're all going to burn... but I can tell you this... it isn't me going to hell Nelson. It isn't me going to hell Scrayper. That is left for higher powers to decide. [He pauses, his gaze becoming that much sharper.] RK: But tonight... here... over these belts... over this... [He taps his chest with his index finger.] ...I am going to give you a little sample of what hell is all about. [Out.] [Fade in... to a staplegun. From beyond, we can hear that familiar voice with the faint Japanese accent.] HM: Interesting tool, the staplegun. Created to expedite creation, in the hands of someone like Scrayper, it transforms itself into a weapon of destruction. [Wide-angle of the Mashima-san, extending the aforementioned silver staplegun at arm's length, aiming it with one eye closed, as one might take aim with a handgun.] HM: I tried to remember how many staples you've driven into my skull with a staplegun just like this over the past weeks, Scrayper, but I lost count. It seems like every week I'm tasting the bite of this metal snake. [The staplegun is dropped to the floor unceremoniously, clattering as it impacts the concrete floor of the "backstage" area of The Pit, in favor of Hari's tag team title belt.] HM: I give my blood freely. It seems like each week, someone wants to make me bleed. These past weeks, that someone's been you, Scrayper. Over my short career, I've bled enough to run the Nile red. But for all that red, I've had very little gold. I know that concepts like pride don't translate well into a mind like yours. You'll never be able to understand just what I feel for what I've accomplished. [Absently, as if to accentuate his words, Mashima's hand finds its way to the rather fresh cut in his forehand, the result of the attack on his person by Scrayper on last week's GIW Television.] HM: Our relationship is one of give and take. You see what I can give you to take. You try to push me in hopes that you can push me to the point of no return. You get off on it. You enjoy seeing how I react to the things you do to me. You feed off my emotion. I'm not so stupid that I can't see it. You enjoy watching me lose my control because I'm so furious. So far, you've been in the driver's seat. But tonight, I'm the one doing the driving. [Hari's face contorts, as he visibly forces a strained smile.] HM: Violence has its place. I know that. I admit, I enjoy torturing you. I always enjoy revenge. I'm vindictive, I'm a small person for it, but there's no helping it. But tonight isn't about violence. Every night we've crossed paths, the violence has been the goal. Tonight, you aren't my nightmare. Tonight, you aren't a psychopath in a mask made of skin that wants to dismember me. As hard as it is to let your face fade into obscurement, tonight, Scrayper, you're just another man that wants to take from me what I earned. Before tonight, violence was the goal. Tonight, violence is the tool I'll use to dispatch of two men that are challenging for what Robert and I have spent a lifetime trying to achieve. Because, in the end, even my hate for you is miniscule in comparison to my pride over this. You're faceless. You're John Doe. I feel nothing but purpose. [Slowly, Mashima bends and retrieves the staplegun...] HM: But know this. Once I've finished defending my end of the titles... our game starts anew. I don't just mean to take control tonight. I mean to take control for good. I saw your reaction to the Billion Dragon Bomb. You seemed... confused. I understand your relationship with violence. You are a true sadist. Always the giver, never the receiver. You seemed shocked that I could even think of hurting you. In your twisted mind, I think you were truly surprised that I, or anyone else, was capable of breaking the way you see the world, of rising up from being anything more than a mass of meat for you to beat on. I wonder... if you love violence so much, Scrayper... I wonder how you'll love me visiting a little violence on you, tonight, madman? [Click. Click. Two staples fall to the ground.] HM: I think I'm beginning to like this. [Fade out.] [We fade into the back area of the Sand Dollar. The first reaction to the shot should be a shudder or a chill up your spine, because in front of the camera is the masked head of the Scrayper. The top part of the mask with the small rubber hair-like add-ons of the mask hang down with his head. Behind him is one of the concrete walls of the Marina, and the rusted pipes that seem to be the norm in this place.] S: I'm going to have to try harder. [The flash of metal, and the rather familiar outline of a staple gun makes its presence known.] S: Because someone just seems to refuse to leave my thoughts. [The camera pulls back and the shot picks up the Scrayper, he's decked out in a black sleeveless shirt and a pair of dark red satin pants or just his ring gear. His knees are up with his arms draped over them as he sits up against the wall. In his one taped black hand sits the staple gun, his other arm though just sits there.] S: Why won't you leave? [The Scrayper turns over his arm over and holds up the staple gun with the other one] S: Why? [And with that the Scrayper begins to pump the staple gun over and over and over into his arm. And he quickly pulls the staple gun back, nothing, nothing at all. It seems as if the staple gun no longer has anything in it.] S: I'll find my catharsis elsewhere. [And with that, we fade.] JR: All three men ultra-focused.. and we heard from Nelson back at the opening of the show so we know he's ready to capture the gold that eluded him back in late May of this year. DD: Maybe his partner won't be such a fraud like Brady was, this time. JR: Sure.. I bet. Let's send it over to Hervez for the official introductions.. [Cut to Hervez.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest ees scheduled ees the MAIN EVENT of the evening [Pop!!].. and it is for the GIW TAG TEAM TITLES!! [BIG POP!!].. introducing first.. the challengers.. ["Bad Blood" by Sepultura kicks up, as Leviticus Nelson begins his slow walk to the ring. The crowd pops big as Leviticus nods, closing his eyes, and heads towards the ring. As the song continues, Leviticus lifts a leg over the top rope and enters the ring. Leviticus grabs the top rope, and closes his eyes, beginning a slow prayer, as you can see in detail, the massive amount of tattoo's on his arm. His large hands grip the rope tightly, as he stops the prayer, opens his eyes, and slowly turns around, glaring towards Irons.] AH: In the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 397 pounds.. and he hails from Lufkin, Texas.. here is.. LEVITICUS NELSON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [HUGE MIXED POP! as Nelson just awaits his partner.] AH: And his partner.. [A guitar rift starts off very slowly, it is from Slayer's "Dead Skin Mask" the music begins to echo over the arena.] # 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) # [With no Spize in sight the Scrayper makes his way out from the back all alone. He wears a sleeveless, white T-shirt with holes and blood stains, among other things and a pair of black satin pants. The outfit is completed with both of his hands and wrists wrapped in a black tape. This doesn't cover his pale white featureless mask, however, and that freaks out the crowd.] # 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 slowly makes his way to the ring. He never looks towards the crowd, and just keeps walking at a slow casual pace.] AH: On his way to the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 180 pounds and he hails from South of Heaven, West of Hell.. here is.. THE SCRAYPER!!!!!!!!! [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 # [The Scrayper climbs up onto the apron and then slowly climbs into the ring. He adjusts the tape on his wrists a few times before he finally settles down. The music fades.] AH: And their opponents.. [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.] AH: And his partner.. [The opening thumps of "Move Bitch" by Ludacris, feat. Mystikal and ODB fire up over the public announce...] AH : Approacheeng the ring at thees time... ## Move, bitch, get out the way, get out the way, bitch, get out the way... ## [The Mashima-san begins to walk the aisle in those trademark dogeared black Chuck Taylor All-Stars. One of the GIW Tag Team Championship title belts is thrown over the shoulder of his canary yellow Suicide Dragon tee-shirt, featuring an asian-styled dragon, in green, holding a shotgun in its mouth. When the crowd jumps onto its feet, he smiles his lopsided smile, his icy blue eyes gleaming.] ## Move, bitch, get out the way, get out the way, bitch, get out the way... ## AH : Weighin' in at two hundreed thirteey five pounds... from Nippon, Japan... ## Move, bitch, get out the way, get out the way, bitch, get out the way... ## ## Move, bitch, get out the way, get out the way, bitch, get out the way... ## ## Oh, no, the fight's out! ## ## I'm 'bout to punch yo' lights out! ## ## Get the f[BEEP] back, guard ya' grill... ## ## There's somethin' wrong, we can't stay still... ## ## I've been drankin' and bustin', too... ## ## And I been thankin' of bustin' you... ## ## Upside ya' motherf[BEEP]in' forehead! ## [The fans chant along as the chorus rises up again...] ## Move, bitch, get out the way, get out the way, bitch, get out the way... ## [...and The Mikaboshi enters the ring. He tosses the belt to a ring hand, running a hand through his coarse, straight black hair before fetching the now-familair black leather half-mask out of the back pocket of his black cords, cuffed at the leg.] AH : He is one half of the GIW Tag Team Champeens of the World... [Mashima slips the mask over his face, displaying the Oni tooled into the leather over the face, scowling in anger...] AH : HARISOOOOTOOOOOO MASHIIIIIMAAAAAAA! [BIG POP!!!!!!!! as he looks over his partner and then his opponents.. awaiting the bell.] ----------------------------------------------------------------- Grand Isle Wrestling: Main Event!! Tag Team Titles Match!!!!!!!! Robert Kellan/Harisoto Mashima [c] vs. Leviticus Nelson/Scrayper Written By: Mike Gilliland ----------------------------------------------------------------- [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: And there's the bell for this highly anti- [POP!] and there goes Kellan right after the Scrayper?! DD: What the?! [Thud!] JR: Kellan just lambasting The Scrayper with a running clothesline as Nelson and Mashima walk to their respective corners on the apron.. obviously Kellan wasting no time going after the man who had his wife by the wrist two weeks ago.. DD: Talk about bearing a short-range grudge, sheesh! JR: Kellan quickly pulling the smallish Scrayper back to his feet.. Irish whip.. Scrayper on the return.. and the big man hoists him high in the air with a gorilla press!! [THUD!! POP!!] JR: OH MY!! Gorilla press right into a psinning spinebuster and Robert Kellan just _planted_ The Scrayper right into the mat! DD: He's the proverbial house of fire.. not unlike most angry wifebeater types. JR: Lord. [The big man wastes no time as he peels the Scrayper off the mat.. sending him towards his corner with an Irish whip..] JR: And there goes the Scra- [Heel Pop!].. The Scrayper with a running forearm shot right to the skull of Mashima in his corner.. he took advantage of the Irish Whip and is now clawing over the top rope at the kneeling Mashima on the apron! He really wants a piece of the man he's been obsessing about for months now! DD: Obsessing my ass! He just wants carnage! JR: Oh my! And here comes Kellan! You want carnage? He's about to bring it as he grabs The Scrayper by the top of the mask.. and right into a full nelson! Kellan spinning them into the center of the ring and lifts! [THUD!!! POP!!!] JR: _Huge_ full nelson slam by the tag champ! The quick cover! One!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Two-Kickout!!!!!! DD: No way in hell. Not even a two count. JR: It's never too early to try a pin after an impact move like such. DD: Whatever you say, shortround. JR: Kellan back to his feet, giving a short glance at Nelson just glares on.. I'm sure he wants a piece of Kellan and vice versa quite badly.. DD: It'll come. JR: The Scrayper pulled back to his feet now.. Kellan just hoisting Scrayper all the way across the ring into a neutral corner! Here he comes! And catches Scrayper right in the midsection with a shoulderblock! He backs up again.. and ano-no! The Scrayper up and over and landing on his feet behind Kellan who just stopped himself from hitting the ringpo- OH!! [Ouch Pop!!] DD: He didn't stop himself from getting a backkick in the nuggets though, did he? JR: No he did not.. and The Scrayper turning the tide with the usual kick to the groin that has Kellan bending over stuck between the turnbuckles in the corner.. [The Scrayper backs into the center of the ring.. and just sorta flashes a look of the mask right at the mask of Harisoto Mashima.. the crowd popping at the apparent staredown.. before Kellan stumbles out of the turnbuckle and turns..] [TTTTTHHHHHHWWWWWWAAAAAAACCCCKKKKKK!!!] JR: YAKUZA KICK!!! THE SCRAYPER USING ONE OF MASHIMA'S TRADEMARK MOVES ON HIS PARTNER!! DD: And hot damn did he hit it flush on the temple! JR: The big tag champ is on the mat as Mashima just shakes his head.. you gotta believe he wants in more than badly. DD: Better be legal. JR: Of course. DD: NELSON! [Slap! Mixed Pop!] JR: And the tag to Nelson.. and in comes the giant of the Grand Isle. He stalks the kneeling Robert Kellan.. picking him up.. scoop with one arm! [Thud!] And a big one arm scoop slam! Nelson off the ropes.. he leaps! [TTTTHHHHUUUUUUDDDDDD!!!!!] [MIXED POP!!!!] DD: YIKES!! JR: BIG RUNNING SPLASH!! ALL FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTY POUNDS RIGHT DOWN ON THE STERNUM OF THE TAG CHAMP!! AND THE COVER!! One!!!!!!!!!! Two!!!!!!!!!! Kickout!!!!!! [WHEW POP!!] DD: Very close! JR: Too close for the tag champs right there.. but I'm somewhat shocked he could even kick out! His ribs could be crushed! DD: Let's hope. JR: Nelson lumbering himself back to his feet.. looking out at the crowd momentarily before pulling Kellan back to his feet.. a big elbow.. and another.. and another backing the tag champ into the ropes.. Irish whip.. reversed by Kellan.. DD: Dumb ass. JR: Nelson off the ropes.. Kellan ducking down.. but Nelson sees it coming, head claw!! [Recognition Pop!!] JR: Could it be?! Descention Into Hell already?! He lift-, no! Kellan kicking out the right leg of Nelson.. once, twice, and a third releases the hold as Kellan drops down.. and kicks out the leg with a dropkick! DD: But the giant hasn't gone down! JR: Kellan off the ropes.. chopblock right into that right leg! DD: And still Nelson hasn't gone down! [But boy is he close.. teetering on one leg.. Kellan tries a different tactic.. going off the other side ropes.. where Mashima tags himself in.. and instantly springboarding to the top rope..] JR: Mash tagged in.. Kellan off the ropes with another chopblock to that right leg!! Nelson refuses to stay do- MASHIMA!!!! [CCCCCRRRRAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!] [BIG TIME FACE POP!!!!!!!!] DD: GAH!! JR: AND MASHIMA DROPS THE BIG MAN BY SPRINGBOARD DROPKICKING OUT THAT LEFT LEG!! DD: Clever, I'll give'em that! JR: And now Mash is the legal man in and talk about giving up size.. this is the epitome of it.. DD: But unfortunately size don't mean shit when you are on the mat. JR: Correct.. and Mash with the upperhand here as he starts to stomp out both legs of Nelson who grunts and doesn't even bother to cover up.. DD: Why bother? Mash is a pansy. JR: Mashima not wasting any time as he hoists the right leg of Nelson up a foot or so.. pulling it and settling it on the bottom rope of the nearby ropes.. DD: What's the point? JR: The Japanese sensation now climbing the top rope.. leaping up in one swift manuever! [Pop!] And he's giving Scrayper a quick look before he leaps!! [TTTTTTTHHHHHHUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!] [YOUCH POP!!!!!!!!] DD: UGH!!! JR: Mashima with a wicked guillotine legdrop across the elevated right leg of the monster Leviticus Nelson! He coulda broke that leg right there! DD: It's as easy to break his leg as it is to chop down a Redwood with a fizzucking spoon, dillweed. JR: Point taken. [Regardless, that has Nelson actually clutching that leg and Mashima back to his feet.. embellishing in the cheers. And then he does the not so safe but so fun and risky.] JR: Hrm.. Harisoto pulling the monster off the mat.. off the comfort zone and to his feet.. a forearm shot.. and another backs the monster up a foot or so.. just far enough to get him backfirst into the ropes.. Irish whip by the tag champ sends Nelson into the ropes.. maybe they are trying to take the legs and wind from the big man.. DD: Riiiiight. That's called exhibiting intelligence. JR: Nelson on the retur-, YAKUZA KICK! [MIXED POP!!] SWATTED AWAY LIKE A FLY BY NELSON!! DD: Hahaha! JR: Mash spun around.. he turns back to face! Double choke by Nelson!! He lifts!! [TTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MIXED POP!!!!!!!!!] JR: DOUBLE ARM CHOKESLAM!!! THE COVER!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [WHEW AGAIN POP!!!] DD: Getting closer to glory!! JR: That was awfully close, but close don't count in our business. DD: Thanks for that update Captain Douche. JR: Hey, that's uncalled for. DD: Sure, but it's also too fun to stop. JR: Oh, kinda like masturbation? DD: Well, hrm... yeah. [...Anyway. Nelson shakes off that right leg and somewhat limps to his corner.. tagging in a _very_ eager Scrayper.. who vaults onto the top rope.. and leaps!!.. ..and flips.. TTTTTTTTHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!] JR: SENTON BOMB BY THE SCRAYPER!!! Talk about making an impact right out of the chute! DD: The poopchute? JR: Now just stop. DD: Fine. JR: The Scrayper right back up.. running towards the ropes he goes.. springing onto the second rope!! He flips back in!! [TTTTTTTHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: WHAT A BEAUTIFUL SPRINGBOARD MOONSAULT THAT LANDS FLUSH ON HIS ARCH-ENEMY!! THE QUICK COVER!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TH-KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!! [SIGH OF RELIEF POP!!!!!!!] DD: Just a matter of time!! The champs are being pushed way past their brink right now! JR: They've never had a challenge quite like this and boy this may be their last.. The Scrayper and Leviticus Nelson have anger, pride, and a whole heap of nastiness they bring to the table and it is showing here early. DD: And look at poor Kellan.. he looks like he wants in so bad, hahahahaha!!! [That he does.. he looks irate and so full of excitement to get back in and help out his partner..] JR: The Scrayper back to his feet.. angrily stomping once.. now twice.. now thrice on the back of Mashima's skull before pulling the masked purodore back to his feet.. [Thwack! Boo!] Yikes! The Scrayper with a spinning backfist out of nowhere puts Mashima back on dream street.. he's just sorta wobbling on his feet! DD: That was quite unexpected and utterly cool! JR: Quick go behind by The Scrayper as he drops into a rear waistlock.. he lifts! [And releases.. FACE POP!!!!!] JR: RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX BUT MASHIMA FLIPPED OUT AND LANDED ON HIS FEET!! MASHIMA OFF THE ROPES.. SCRAYPER OFF THE FAR ROPES!! INCOMING!!!!! [SSSSSSSSSSSSSSMMMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] ["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!!"] DD: HOLY SHIT! JR: STEREO YAKUZA KICKS!! BOTH MEN HIT EACH OTHER FLUSH IN THE FACE WITH YAKUZA KICKS AND BOTH MEN ARE DOWN AND IN BAD SHAPE!! WHAT SICK IMPACT!! DD: Both men had all the momentum going into their own manuevers that they had no chance to brace for their own incoming punishment! JR: And both ate mat.. but Francois refuses to signal for a ten count since that's not our style, never has been.. DD: And thank God for that.. or Mash and Kellan may have been able to squeak out of this with the belts intact. [Both men writhe in pain on the mat.. holding their respective masks.. both men crawling in the direction of their respective corners as the crowd starts to cheer louder and louder for no one in particular, but we'll figure it's for Mash for the obvious reasons. What? You want the reasons? Go fuck yourself, that's the reason.] JR: Both men crawling to their corners.. but it's quite obvious who's gonna make it to their's first.. DD: Damn straight it is! [Slap! Mixed Pop!] JR: And in comes Nelson! He's charging across the ring as Mash is just inches out of rea- [Booo!].. DD: Not anymore! JR: Nelson just drove a running boot right into the side of the skull of Mashima who crumpled over like a ton of bricks! DD: And now he's just staring down Kellan who looks livid on the apron! JR: You gotta believe Kellan wants a piece of that man one on one.. full strength to full strength.. man to man.. DD: No, I think that was Billy Rock. He's the gay porn star, remember? Kellan is just a lowly wifebeater. JR: And one with gold around his waist and a family to support. DD: So you admit it! JR: No! DD: WHOOOOOOO!! [Meanwhile.. Nelson lets out a sick smile at Kellan before driving another boot.. and another.. and another into his partner's skull. He then easily hoists Mash to his feet.. looking at Kellan one more time before Irish whipping the purodore off the ropes..] JR: So psychology at work here by Nelson as Mashima on the rebound.. Nelson walking out and catching him.. and a gorilla press of his own!! [TTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [SOMEWHAT HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: AND TURNED INTO A SPINNING SPINEBUSTER OF HIS OWN!!! AND THE COVER!!!!!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREEEEEE-SHOULDER UP!!!!!!! [SHOCKED BUT HAPPY POP!!!] JR: I THOUGHT IT WAS OVER!!! WHAT RESILIENCY BY THE PURODORE!! DD: GODDAMN BLIND FRANCOIS!! BLIND AND SLOW AND SHIT! JR: Neither nor! DD: Double negative! JR: Whoops.. regardless, Mash kicked out and Nelson is irate! I think he wanted to finish off Kellan's partner and tag title reign with one of Kellan's trademark manuevers! DD: And he did.. if it wasn't for that cheap ass ref we have. [As if it mattered. Anyway.. Nelson slowly back to his feet.. and quickly grabs Nelson by the mask.. dragging him right up to his feet..] JR: Nelson has Mash at his mercy here as he lets Mash stand on his own.. [SLAP!!] oh my! Nelson slapping the absolute taste right out of the kid's mouth.. spinning him around.. [Mixed Pop!] and right into that back of the head claw again! [BIG, BIG TIME FACE POP!!!!!!!] DD: CHEAP!! JR: AND MASHIMA JUST KICKED BACK WITH A DESPERATION SHOT TO NELSON'S GROIN!!! THE GIANT IS DOUBLED OVER AND MASHIMA IS FREE!! HE'S STAGGERING!! SLOWLY!! HE'S GONNA MAKE IT!! NELSON SUCKING IT UP AND CHARGING!!!! ... ... ... [SLAP!!!!!!] [MEGA-POP!!!!!!] JR: THE TAG TO KELLAN!!! IN COMES THE BIG TAG CHAMP!! NELSON WITH AN OVERHAND RIGHT!! BLOCKED BY KELLAN!! BIG LEFT!! AND ANOTHER!! AND ANOTHER!! DD: CHRIST!! JR: KELLAN A HOUSE OF FIRE OPENING UP A CAN ON NELSON WHO'S BACKING UP WITH EVERY MEATY LEFT HAND BY THE TAG CHAMP!! INTO THE ROPES.. KELLAN WITH THE IRISH WHIP!! NELSON ON THE REBOUND!! [TTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!] [MONSTER FACE POP!!!!!!!!] JR: HOLY CHRIST!! ROBERT KELLAN NEARLY DECLEATING THE GIANT WITH A RUNNING LARIAT THAT PUT HIM FLAT ON THE MAT!! DD: HOT DAMN THAT WAS SOMETHING!! GRANTED!! JR: Kellan with a quick lift-up of Nelson! Kellan looking around the arena to some MONSTER CHEERS!! He.. OH NO! DD: You gotta be kidding me! JR: Standing headscissors by Robert Kellan!! HE LIFTS!! [And amazingly.. ..he GETS HIM IN THE AIR!!!.. ..and with all his might.. ..he whips him down.. ..down.. ..down.. ..TTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MASSIVE, MASSIVE FACE POP!!!!!!!!!] JR: GOOD GOD!! GOOD GOD!! POWERBOMB ON NELSON!!! POWERBOMB ON THE GRAND ISLE TITAN!! THE EXHAUSTED COVER BY KELLAN!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREEEEEEEEE-SHOULDER UP!!!!!!!!!! [SHOCKED AND FRUSTRATED POP!!!!] JR: HOW?! DD: HE'S A TITAN!! JR: HOW IN THE HELL?! LEVITICUS NELSON KICKED OUT!! AND EVEN KELLAN CAN'T BELIEVE IT!! DD: CAN YOU?! JR: NO WAY! [Kellan sits up.. exhausted.. asking Francois about the count which Eli just puts up two fingers and a right shoulder.. Kellan shaking his head in disbelief. In fact, he's so shocked by that.. while he's sitting.. he doesn't notice the body hurling towards him!!] [TTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MEGA-HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!] DD: YES!!! YES!! JR: GODDAMN IT!! THE SCRAYPER FLYING FROM THE TOP ROPE OUT OF VIRTUALLY NOWHERE WITH A DROPKICK RIGHT TO THE FACE OF KELLAN!! NOW BOTH LEGAL MEN ARE DOWN AND SCRAYPER IS BACK UP QUICKLY.. JUST LOOKING DOWN AT KELLAN.. AND NOW CHARGING MASHIMA ON THE APRON!! DD: Go kill the prick! JR: Scrayper charges in with an overhand right, but Mash ducks! He grabs Scrayper by the throat and drops off the mat.. snake eyes across the top rope! Scrayper clutching his throat in the ring.. one hand on the turnbuckle as he bends down clutching the throat.. Mash back on the apron.. now climbing the ropes! [SLAP!!] JR: A big slap backs The Scrayper up as Mash climbs over and sits on the top turnbuckle! Front chancery!! HE LEAPS!! [And swings.. ..and plants.. TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MEGA-FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] DD: CHRIST!!! JR: TORNADO DDT!! TORNADO DDT!! HARISOTO MASHIMA JUST PLANTED THE SCRAYPER!! THE SCRAYPER INSTINCTIVELY ROLLING TO HIS CORNER APRON CLUTCHING THAT HEAD AS MASHIMA IS RIGHT BACK UP AND RAISING HIS ARMS TO THE CROWD!! DD: And meanwhile.. Kellan AND Nelson are both back to a knee! [He's right for once.. they are. Both men climbing to their feet slowly.. as Scrayper drops off the apron..] JR: What is Scrayp-, and both big men back up and both falling into opposite sides of the ring ropes! Both of these big men exhausted here as they eye each other down with revitalized hatred! They charge! [BIG POP!!!] [BOOOOOOO!!] JR: And Nelson going low with a knee right to the stomach of the charging tag champ! Irish whip.. SCRAYPER HOPPING ONTO THE APRON AS KELLAN IS INCOMIN- [SNAP!] [MEGA-MEGA HEEL POP!!!] JR: AND THE SCRAYPER JUST STAPLEGUNNED KELLAN IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD!! KELLAN STUMBLING BACK TOWARDS NELSON!! [TTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!] [HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!] DD: MASSIVE POWERSLAM!!! JR: AND THE COVER!!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THR-KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!! [WHEW, WHEW TOO CLOSE POP!!!!!] JR: KELLAN KICKING OUT AGAIN!! AND OH MY GOD!! DD: HOLY CHRIST!! [MASSIVE HARDCORE POP!!!!!!!!!] [And this isn't for the in-ring scene.. but what Scrayper has just brought to the party. Standing on the ring apron..Mashima does not hold that usual staplegun.. instead.. one long, thick ass florescent light tube!!!!] JR: Where in the bleu hell did he get that?! DD: Under the ring.. you can find anything under there apparently! JR: Nelson apparently seeing this as well as he's up and dragging the body of Robert Kellan towards their corner! How can he condone this at all! DD: Gold makes you do many things.. hatred makes you do _anything_. JR: Good insight for once.. and Kellan is now dragged perfectly near the corner of the challengers' side of the ring.. [Slap!!!] JR: and the tag to the Scrayper now as the insane little man starts to scale that top rope.. lighttube in hand!! DD: This is gonna goddamn rule!! This is gonna make the staple in the back of Kellan's head look like child's play! JR: Scrayper surveying the crowd who are booing madly.. he leaps!! [And kicks his legs out.. ..pulling the lighttube under him.. ..he drops down.. ..down.. ..FLASHBULBS!!!!!!!!!.. ..CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MASSIVE, MASSIVE FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: ARABIAN FACEBUSTER WITH THE LIGHTTUBE MISSED!! ROBERT KELLAN ROLLED OUT OF THE WAY AND THE SCRAYPER TOOK THE LIGHTTUBE ON HIS ASS AND INTO THE BACKS OF HIS LEGS!!! MY GOD WHAT IMPACT AND THE SCRAYPER IS ROLLING AROUND IN PAIN ON THE MAT!! DD: GODDAMN IT!! THAT SO DESERVED TO BE IN THE FACE OF ROBERT KELLAN!! [Who is getting up, feeling the adrenaline full bore.. picking up The Scrayper as well.. dragging him towards their corner before hooking him by the pants and lifting him high into the air..] DD: Vertical Suplex this close to the rop- JR: NO!!! [Instead.. Kellan somewhat shocks the masses by kicking Scrayper out in front of him.. ..dropping him down.. ..down.. ..and sitting down with it.. TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [BLOW THE ROOF OFF FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: SILVER STAR DRILLER!!! THE ORANGE CRUSH BOMB BY ROBERT KELLAN!! HIS BREAD AND BUTTER!!! HE KEEPS THE COVER!!! HERE COMES NELSON!!! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [Nelson is charging.. ..but Mashima springboards up and onto the top rope and leaps.. ..chatching Nelson with a top rope dropkick that stops the momentum long enough!!!] THHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [DING!! DING!! DING!!] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. the winners of the match.. and STILL GIW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS.. ROBERT KELLAN AND HARISOTO MASHIMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [SUPER, SUPER POP!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: YES!! THEY DID IT AGAIN!! DD: THIS SUCKS.. AAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!! JR: Mashima back up.. but right in the clutches of Nelson! Who hoists! [THUNK!!!!] [HEEL POP!!!] JR: And just heaved Mashima all the way across the ring and into a corner!! AND NOW KELLAN IS UP!! AND RIGHT INTO THE FACE OF THE GIANT!! [MASSIVE POP FOR THE STAREDOWN!!!] DD: Another staredown!! Something must give!! JR: Something has to give.. but neither man moving an inch! [And then the silence is broken as Nelson.. the giant.. the titan.. sneers and snorts and turns away.. which prompts Kellan to look at Mashima.. the opening needed for..] [CCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MEGA-HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!!] DD: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTTT!! JR: NELSON JUST TURNED BACK AROUND AND LEVELED KELLAN WITH A SICK LARIAT THAT JUST SENT THE TAG CHAMP UP AND OVER THE TOP ROPE AND TO THE FLOOR!! NELSON IS LEAVING THE RING TOWARDS THE ENTRANCEWAY NOW AS KELLAN IS RIGHT BACK UP AND CLUTCHING HIS BACK ON THE FARSIDE!! DD: FIGHT ANOTHER FOOL!! JR: BOTH MEN LOCKING EYES THROUGH THE ROPES AS LEVITICUS NELSON TOOK THE CHEAP SHOT AND NOW THE CHEAP WAY OUT!! DD: CHEAP WAY?! The smart way! JR: NELSON BACKING OUT OF THE ARENA.. HE'S TO THE ENTRANCEWAY.. GLARING DOWN AT KELLAN WHO HAS MADE HIS WAY AROUND THE RING!! [BIG POP!!! as Nelson exits.. and immediately Kellan goes into a dead sprint!!] JR: KELLAN GIVING CHASE!! THOSE TWO ARE FAR FROM OVER AS ENEMIES!! IT MIGHT NOT TAKE JUST ONE NIGHT IN THE RING FOR THOSE TWO TO SETTLE THEIR DIFFERENCES!! [And with all this excitement.. we forgot the other two in the ring hate each other perhaps as equally as the former two..Mashima stands, smiling evilly, behind Scrayper as the latter rises off the mat. Whereas before, Harisoto's eyes were blank, now, rage flickers across his face.] DD: What's he doing...? This match is over! JR: I don't know... [As Scrayper turns, Hari kicks him square in the gut, double-underhooking and lifting...] THUUUUUUUUUD! [MEGA-MEGA POP!!!] JR: BILLION DRAGON BOMB! Mashima hits the Billion Dragon Bomb on Scrayper... and now he's exiting the ring... DD: Good riddance! [The crowd gasps.] DD: Is that...? JR: Oh my god! Harisoto Mashima just reached under the ring... and pulled out a knife! And now he's getting a chair! DD: WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE, JAKE?! WHAT IS WITH KNIVES AND SCYTHES TODAY?! JR: I honestly have no idea! [Slowly, the Mashima-san rolls under the ropes, leaving the chair to rest on the mat, and stands. He kneels beside Scrayper's head...] DD: What is he doing with that knife!? He could be cutting Scrayper to ribbons! This is too much! [FACE POP!] JR: Mashima's cut some of Scrayper's mask! He's just cut away a portion of Scrayper's mask, right on the forehead! Crowd : Oooooooh! DD: Oh, s[BEEP]... [Slowly, Harisoto raises his arm above his head, a staplegun in hand.] JR: Looks like a knife wasn't the only thing Mashima fetched from under the ring! KA-CHINK! KA-CHINK! KA-CHINK! KA-CHINK! DD: GOOD LORD! KA-CHINK! KA-CHINK! [MASSIVE, MASSIVE POP!!!] JR: HARISOTO MASHIMA IS STAPLING THE HELL OUT OF SCRAYPER! DD: Thank god! He put the staplegun down! [Slowly, Mashima rises, tossing the staplegun aside. The anger on his face has bee replaced with an scary calm.] DD: I don't think I've ever seen that Jap look that way... JR: DIRK! DD: After what he's done, you're lucky that's what I said! You don't want to even know what I just thought! WHAAAAAAAACK!!! DD: WHAT THE... [Methodically, Mashima begins to slam the steel chair he brought into the ring along with the staplegun into Scrayper's limp body.] WHAAAAAAACK! WHAAAAAAACK! WHAAAAAAACK! [BIG TIME POP!!!!] DD: First staples, now this? Mashima should be arrested for this! JR: You're blaming him!? Week after week, Scrayper has come down here and destroyed the Suicide Dragon. Now, you're surprised he's snapped like this? DD: Uh... what's he doing...? [FACE POP!] DD: Oh, god... JR: Mashima has scaled the top rope! He's picked up the staplegun and placed it on Scrayper's face! He's got that chair in his hands... he's pointing down at Scrayper...! [He Leaps!] TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] ["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!" "G-I-W!" "G-I-W!"] ["G-I-W!" "G-I-W!" "G-I-W!" "G-I-W!"] JR: HARISOTO MASHIMA WITH AN ARABIAN FACEBUSTER RIGHT ONTO THE STAPLEGUN! THE SCRAYPER'S BLEEDING LIKE A STUCK PIG! BLOOD SPILLING FROM THAT OPEN WOUND AS BOTH MEN ARE DOWN!!! DD: NUTS!!! ABSOLUTELY INSANE!! JR: AND WE ARE OUT OF TIME!! FANS, WE ARE JUST A MONTH AWAY FROM OUR NEXT SUPERSHOW!! MORE TO COME IN THE WEEKS AHEAD!! GOOD GOD WHAT A NIGHT!! GOODNIGHT!! [Briefly.. we stay on the live feed of Scrayper and Mashima.. bleeding.. in the center of the ring.. laid out.. before actually cutting to the back, behind the stands, where one City Jack is still receiving medical attention from the attack & pills incident from earlier. Around him are some of the GIW medics, all of whom are keeping track of the GIW star. Thankfully, though, he seems to be coming out of his daze as he tries to lift his arm to his head, very, very slowly.] CJ: ... I... Wh... Good God... What in the... Medic: City Jack, just remain still and lie down. The best thing for you to do now is to just try and get those pills out of your system. CJ: P... Pills? Medic: Yes, we tried a stomach pump, but that didn't work since the drugs from the pills were already digested and taken into your body. If that McBaine didn't prevent us, we might - [With that name, City Jack ignores the medic's orders and props himself up - not mightily or quickly, though, just slowly. With a heavy breathing and a glassy-eyed look.] CJ: McBaine! Got... Got to get that bas- Medic: No! You're staying right here. That medicine you took in has some adverse affects if you try to get up and walk around. It's best to rest! CJ: No! He... I... He made me swallow them pills? Well, I'll put somethin' down... Down his mouth... [Jack makes a fist - a FIST people - as he tries to get up, but stops at one knee before wobbling around.] CJ: I - Medic: It's useless anyway, Jack. I saw McBaine and that crazed woman of his leave the Marina some time ago while you were under. Just rest here until the ambulance comes around to pick you up, ok? [Jack starts to refuse, not really even knowing the whole situation, but then slumps back down on his rear in a daze as we fade on that sad scene.] Grand Isle Wrestling 2002