[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!! A special THREE HOUR edition of jam-packed southern style wrestling at it's finest! Only here.. on channel Sixty-Eight! [The voice fades out as does the diamond.. and then we fade in.] [The eerie white mists of a fog soon engulfs all. As the moments slowly tick away, the mists slowly snake away revealing liquid blackness encasing a large, heavily scarred back. The slickness of sweat glimmers from the back as the muscles beneath the skin bulge trying to escape their fleshy prison.] {{{CLANCK}}} . .. - .. . {{{SCREEEEEEEECHHHH}}} . .. - .. . [As a mound of dirt flies over the should of the back, the little gnats of dirt hover and cling to the moist flesh. The figure turns around finally revealing a massive, scarred chest, blackish-gray stubble beneath matted, jet black hair... and a large black eye patch covering the figure’s right eye. He has become known over time and blood by that one marking... called by but one name...] [McBaine...] [In his hands he holds an oversized iron shovel as he slowly surveys the work he has done around him... a 6’ by 4’ hole deep within the earth. A small, devilish grin begins to grow across McBaine face as his mind slowly fills with visions of chaos and torment. He approaches the hole and stoops down to inspect his work as his voice is heard in a light whisper...] McB: Why must he deny my hand... [McBaine takes a deep breath as he runs his bare hands through the dirt at his feet.] McB: And at the same time, force my fist? [McBaine gathers a handful of dirt and crushes it between his fingers.] McB: All others who have joined me have been littered with main events and title shots. People speak their names with a shiver down their spines. However that is not nearly enough for that poor, miserable soul... [McBaine slowly shakes his head.] McB: No... for Russell... he only longs for but one thing... [McBaine proceeds to allow the dirt to crumple to where it first came, still lost in his own demonic visions.] McB: Not my title... oh no, that is merely a foolish means to a delusional ends... You see in this particular federation, a heavyweight title does not also come with a drenching of wealth. As wondrous as the critics claim this place to be... it cannot afford to pad the egos of its members with anything but fractured bones and swollen flesh. Russell understand that reality of that and for that single point he should be applauded... Where Russell’s delusions appear is in the realm of what holding MY belt means to the ever watching world... For me, my belt is a symbol... a remembrance of the wretched screams of pain I’ve left throughout the world... For Russell however, he believes that it will be the proof that he has finally left the chains of his only calling in life... A calling that he will always be destined to live out for all of his days... Destined to be known as nothing more than a talent less redneck... [McBaine drops the last of the dirt to the ground and proceeds to stand up.] McB:And so in his journey to escape his calling, he has devised a match in which he believes that will make him the predator... and myself the prey... [McBaine rubs the palms of his hands together crushing the last remaining pieces of dirt on them.] McB: Tell me something Russell... did I look like the prey two weeks ago as I did what I pleased... ripping the tag titles from your grasp? Did I look like that prey as I spat in the face of four men... Nelson, the tag champions and yourself? [McBaine lightly chuckles to himself as he finally approaches a rather unfinished slab of granite. McBaine sweeps the slab into his arms and trudges it over to the hole.] McB: Maybe you have gotten things a bit confused Russell... maybe YOU are truly the fly who has fallen within my web... [McBaine drops the slab at the head of the hole that now resembles more of a grave as his eye seems to envision something that only he can see.] McB: Funny about spiders though... when they trap their prey, they leave nothing left when they are done... It makes life a bit more complicated when trying to put a career to rest... [McBaine shoves the slab of granite into the grave with his foot. As he turns to the camera for the first time.] McB: Spidernet Death match... You better be careful Russell... Someone could lose an eye in that thing... But me? [McBaine slowly shakes his head, still grinning from ear to ear.] McB: Been there, done that... Now it’s your turn... [Cut.] [Fade out.. blackness. For a few seconds we stay completely black.. completely quiet.. until the opening chords of one of the coolest, greatest, most chilling songs ever recorded strums over said blackness. As "House of the Rising Sun" by The Animals starts to strum forward.. the camera opens up to a still of "Bad Eye" McBaine.. frozen in time from the end of Brawlin' as he raises the belt high over his head.. drenched in blood.. then cut to a still of Russ Brady.. the eagerness and determination bright in his Oklahoman eyes.. as the organ from the song picks up..] #There is a house in New Orleans# #They call the Rising Sun# #And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy# #And God I know I'm one# [Cut to full motion video clips this time.. the first of which is "Dynasty" Dane Levine and "Classy" Kendrick Lane delivering a killer Total Elimination to "Deathdealer" Tommy Ganz! Which then follows up with a staredown between Stevens and Levine.. ending with the breathtaking corkscrew plancha off the cage by The Scrayper onto four men below.. a true sight to behold as the music continues its eerie descent.] #My mother was a tailor# #She sewed my new bluejeans# #My father was a gamblin' man# #Down in New Orleans# [Cut to "Razorblade" Jake Cutler stretching the shit out of an unknown opponent.. then locking a vicious leglock on Harisoto Mashima. Flashover to Harisoto Mashima kicking Cutler in the stomach.. lifting and hitting the Billion Dollar Bomb! Cut to two giants standing toe to toe.. engaged in a vile staredown. Then quick flash to Leviticus Nelson with a monster sized clothesline toppling Pegasus to the floor.. followed up by Pegasus hitting his nasty Jackknife Powerbomb on the seven foot Nelson!!] #Now the only thing a gambler needs# #Is a suitcase and trunk# #And the only time he's satisfied# #Is when he's on a drunk# [The organ solo of this classic song rips through as we see three faces flash by.. the first is Robert Kellan, followed by Lydia Kellan, then followed by Lucas McCall! Quick shots of those two brawling at various locations of the Sand Dollar Marina.. cut to looks of distress followed by jubilation by Lydia Kellan as she hugs her husband.. ending with a stillshot of an anger, scowling Lucas McCall. We then cut to a catfight between Roxie and Angie.. they rool around ringside as the scene then does a flash sequence of head-dropping by "Sweet Dreams" Shane Destiny.. and the high flying skills of Jaime Roth!! Fade out to a still shot of Roth and Destiny face to face.. looks of determination emblazed on their faces.] #Oh mother tell your children# #Not to do what I have done# #Spend your lives in sin and misery# #In the House of the Rising Sun# [Cut to the smirking "Outlaw" Bobby Taylor.. the crowd seemingly booing as he heaves Gran Dragoneer Z off the top rope and to the floor sickly! Then cut to the arrogant Dave Bryant superkicking Doyle Woodall.. then cut to him coming down to the ring flanked by his two gorgeous valets! Quick flashes of Taylor hitting his Cattlebuster from different angles on the Dcotor of Love as we then cut to a staredown between City Jack and Rembrandt. Clips of the two going toe to toe.. punch for punch is shown.. and then we cut to Rembrandt ruthlessly pulling back on that cross armbreaker as City Jack flails and yells madly. We fade out from them as Jack dances in front of the cage.. Remmy on the run.] #Well, I got one foot on the platform# #The other foot on the train# #I'm goin' back to New Orleans# #To wear that ball and chain# [Finally cut to McBaine once again.. his _eye_ locked on across the ring at Russ Brady who looks stoically across.. they converge with fists. Flash to McBaine hitting his Blind Valley Driver on the concrete on Brady.. then a flash to Brady hitting The Redneck on McBaine in the cneter of the ring. They fade out.. and one picture fades in against the black.. simple yet effective.. it is the GIW Heavyweight Title. With that.. the face appears in front of it.. to the left is it's champion.. and to the right is it's challenger.. oh my what a night we have in store.. good days indeed.] #Well, there is a house in New Orleans# #They call the Rising Sun# #And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy# #And God I know I'm one# [As the song starts to wind down.. the camera then opens up to a dimly lit gymnasium.. packed a good four hundred strong!!! The camera starts at a high angle and works it's way towards the ring.. the music drowning out any other noises as we get a glimpse of the Cardinal High School Gymnasium.. chairs lined deep around the ring.. the bleachers on two sides packed pretty well as well.. the big overhead lights flooding the ring which across has a "GIW" emblazed on it in red on black. The music fades out as yellow letters come across the center of the screen that read..] The Nightmare in New Orleans 07-2-02 [As the camera hits the ring completely.. the chants start to come in hardcore as two men enter the ring.. you know the chant, don't you?] "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!!" [As the fans continue to chant.. the two men who have entered the ring look around the jam-packed Cardinal Gymnasium.. with a look of gratitude and happiness in their eyes.. who coulda expected such a crowd? Anyway, we all know the two men in the ring.. the one on the left there, that's Jacob Rodgers.. while the taller man on the right is 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 NEW ORLEANS.. WELCOME TO... GRAND ISLE WRESTLING.. AND WELCOME TO.. THE NIGHTMARE IN NEW ORLEANS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [MONSTER POP!!! from the seemingly sold-out New Orleans venue. The camera pans across the gym as rabid fans hoop and holler.. lights shining bright over the ring with no signs of gnats for once in our history.. a sight indeed! Jake smiles as does Dirk, for once, as he continues.] JR: We don't have to tell you.. but we will.. this is _the night_ in our company! This is the night to shine.. the night to make a statement.. and for some.. the night where legends may be made! [Dirk finally sighs.] DD: Oh c'mon.. let's not over-exaggerate the scenario here.. we are still some shitbird independent in the middle of Bumblefuck, Louisiana for Christ's sake! [Boooooo!!!] JR: Regardless of what Dirk thinks, fans, what a night we have in store for you! Nine.. count 'em.. _NINE_ _HUGE_ matches are signed as all singles titles will be on the line! But of course.. the biggest shroud of mystery lies in our main event.. DD: Damn right it does, Jake! All we know is that it is "our version of the Japanese Spidernet Trap Death Match".. whatever the hell that means! JR: Some of us in the biz know what the spidernet trap death match is, Dirk, but none of us have any idea what our version entails.. all I can say is that Russ Brady and "Bad Eye" McBaine are in for one of the most torturous nights of their lives. DD: Every night is torture for both men.. McBaine has a tortured existence and, well, Brady is from Oklahoma. [Boooo!!] DD: I know! Oklahoma sucks! JR: Besides our huge main event.. City Jack [Pop!] defends his Television title against Rembrandt [Boo!].. and, well, I haven't even seen the condition of City Jack yet but all signs point to him not being near one hundred percent tonight fans.. and that's a good sign for the Killer from Kyoto. DD: He doesn't need Jack injured to beat him.. Remmy is far and away the better athlete and wrestler.. not to mention human being. JR: Says you. Also.. "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor [Mixed Pop!!] is scheduled to face the man who's life he has made a living hell.. in one "Doctor of Love" Dave Bryant! [Heel pop!] DD: Dave doesn't stand a chance.. not against a highly volatile war machine like Bobby Taylor.. not a chance in hell.. and that is a shame. JR: Taylor has been on a tear and it culminated two weeks ago when he ended that poor man, Gran Dragoneer Z's, career. It was sick and ruthless.. and.. DD: Sick and ruthless, we gotcha. [The crowd boos prolly at the stubborn manner of Dirk who so easily writes off a man's life.] JR: Here, tonight.. one man will be booted out of the Grand Isle in our first ever Loser Leaves Town match! [Pop!] And to push matter further.. it will also be under Two Out of Three Falls rules! Finally, we will see which man is the better athlete.. the better wrestler.. as Jaime Roth [Big Pop!] goes toe to toe once more with "Sweet Dreams" Shane Destiny! [Boooo!!] DD: Well fans, remember to take pictures of Jaime Roth tonight.. it'll be the only thing for you to remember him by after tonight! [Heel pop!] JR: I think the young kid has it in him to be a champ someday.. and I think tonight he's gonna make the first step up the latter and exile Destiny back to the other four hundred companies he already works for. DD: Ouch. JR: Sad but true. DD: Whatever, manwhore. JR: A battle of the big men happens tonight as well.. as Leviticus Nelson [Big Pop!] is set to take on the ruthless bastard in Pegasus! [Big Boos!] DD: Cakewalk for Pegs, Nelson is a douche.. a big, oversized, seven foot douche bag. JR: Thanks for the visual. DD: No problem.. I got a carton full of em. JR: Of douche? DD: NO! Jokes, ass. JR: Finally.. finally Robert Kellan gets his hands on Lucas McCall.. one on one.. in a NEW ORLEANS STREET FIGHT!! [Big pop!!] Falls count anywhere.. all weapons are legal and encouraged.. and what a bloodbath that contest could possibly be! DD: The end of the wifebeater is at hand! [Boo!] Robert Kellan is going down, and finally Lydia will be free of a corrupt and evil man. JR: Corrupt and evil?! Are you nuts?! DD: Nope.. just realistic. JR: Riiiiiiiiiight. Three more matches are signed as well and will happen tonight so let's get thing s started, shall we? DD: About damn time. JR: So, while me and Dirk get situated at ringside.. let's take you to some pre-recorded footage taken just moments ago. [Cut outside to the high school parking lot just outside the gymnasium, where a light blue, early 1990s Toyota Corolla, looking like an ancient ruin and sounding like a John Deere lawnmower, drives up and comes to a stop near the gym's entrance. The driver's door swings open, and a rather ordinary-looking man steps out, his short black hair blowing around a little bit in the wind, his somewhat short and thin pale frame hidden behind a black T-shirt and black jeans. The man looks at the sign on the gymnasium's outer wall, then glances at a sheet of paper held in his left hand.] MAN: Grand Isle Wrestling, Nightmare in New Orleans, Cardinal High School ... [The man looks around, dismayed.] MAN: Somehow, I was expecting more. [The man then looks back at the sheet of paper in his hand, then back at the gym.] MAN: I can just hear my Mom ... (a mocking elderly female voice, not very well done) "You're gonna give up a college education and a well-paying job to wrestle?! That stuff's fake, you know? Why would you turn your back on a promising future?" (the man pauses to restore his real voice.) Well, Mom, the future you wanted for me isn't exactly the future I want. Cause somehow ... the future I want is in that gym. [The man pauses ...] MAN: Funny, isn't it? A man's future, 1,500 miles away in a New Orleans high school gym. Life is one f[BLEEP]ed up odyssey, if you ask me. [The man ducks back into his car, rummaging around in the back seat, until he pulls out a gym bag and a piece of luggage, which he sets on its wheels and pulls out the handle. Then the man shuts the door, locks up the car and looks up once more at the gym.] MAN: Well, I didn't come 1,500 miles for nothing. [The man starts walking away from his car and toward the gym. Fade back inside.] [Cut backstage, into a lockerroom. Standing there, lacing up his black boots, is GIW newcomer "Deathdealer" Tommy Ganz. Noticing the camera, he quickly finishes up, and turns to address the fans.] TG: Well, it looks like it's finally come down to this night, in this venue, in front of these fans, huh, Kendrick? [Boos at the mention of "Classy" Kendrick Lane, definitely not a crowd favorite even here in New Orleans.] TG: You've picked your fights. You've done the best you could to hit me from behind and run. You've done your best to avoid coming face to face with me. I can see it in your eyes, Kendrick. The fear of a man trying his damnedest to avoid the consequences coming to him. And that makes me chuckle a bit, y'know? [Tommy scratches his chin, pondering.] TG: You're six foot, four inches tall. Pushing two-sixty. You're not a small guy, that's for sure. Myself? I'm five foot ten. Two-forty soaking wet. You got five inches and twenty pounds on me. Yet you're running scared like a little kid who got himself caught by the teacher. But you won't have your mommy to hide behind tonight, Kendrick. And if you think that damn partner you got with you is going to help you, let me remind you that I whumped on him when I was forced to tag with you. So he's about as useful to you as a jackass in a horse race. [Exuding confidence, Tommy grabs his knee pads, and slides them on each knee.] TG: The running is over with, Lane. I didn't come all the way down from Boston to go limping back with my head held low. I didn't bust my ass with my brothers and sisters in training to have some pissant fruitcake with mental problems stomp me into the dirt. And I sure as hell am not some meek little announcer for an organization up North who's going to roll over and play dead. That might fly over in Cali, but I don't have a bum back, I'm not a woman, and I'm certainly not a puss who grew balls overnight. [~!] TG: I'm "Deathdealer" Tommy Ganz. I'm going to wear ya down, I'm going to stretch ya. And in the end, I'm going to beat ya. Don't forget that, Kendrick. Because whether or not Pheonix Stevens brings his A-game... I can handle myself just fine in that damn ring. See ya out there in a few, Lane. [Before cutting back to ringside, however, Tommy stops short and beckons the camera back.] TG: Oh, and as for you being "Classy" or some crap like that? I'll be laying an Upper-Class asswhoopin' into you. So don't worry... the screams of pain you're going to be belching out are right on your damn level. [A nod from Tommy.] TG: Until then... try to keep your "Classy" piss from spilling out all over your "Classy" pants. [Back to ringside.] JR: Tommy Ganz looks pumped and ready for tonight's big tag match as he cannot wait to get his hands on Kendrick Lane. DD: He isn't classy. The Classiah is gonna show Tommy Ganz what respect is about.. and he'll do it with class! JR: Riiiiiiight. Speaking of the "Classiah".. let's see what he had to say about tonight's big tag team contest. DD: CLASSY!!!!!!!!!!! JR: Ugh. [Scene: The scene fades into a shot of "CLASSY~!" Kendrick Lane making his way to the backstage entrance of the Cardinal High School Gymnasium. He's carrying his bags, decked all out in white. A white button-up shirt left unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and a pair of white slacks along with a gold Rolex watch on his wrist. For an Indy wrestler barely making a wage, Kendrick's sure looking pretty snazzy. Guess Kendrick brings the "bling bling" for the big shows. At any rate, as he makes his way to the entrance, fans not yet in the gym begin to hound him, swarming him, reaching out with their hands in an attempt to touch him. Kendrick keeps his arms in the air, slowly wading his way through the mass of humanity.] KL: Hey, hey! Keep your distance, Lane-iacs! [Kendrick shrugs off all the fans grabbing at him and makes as if he's going to smack'em one.] KL: I SAID HANDS OFF, GODDAMNIT!!! [The crowd backs off just a bit. Well, except for a pretty young blonde, who comes running across the way...] Girl: Kendrick!!! KL: *OoF!* [...tackling and nearly knocking Lane down with a fierce hug. Looking equally out of place with the modest crowd, this girl looks as if she stepped out of the same GAP commercial our Class-ssiah stepped out of. Kendrick has a look of absolute shock on his face as he sees the girl's face.] Girl: Don't you recognize me? [Seeing all the witnesses around, Kendrick tries to play it cool, snapping back into that cocky demeanor.] KL: You groupies look all alike. And like I always say to you...errr...misguided whores... Girl: Kendrick! It's me! [Kendrick looks around at the fans surrounding him once more, before giving a patronizing smirk.] KL: And you are? [The girl doesn't seem amused.] Girl: Stop it...it's not funny. We've been searching for you for God knows how long and we've finally found you. Private investigators, phone calls to all those wrestling promotions...but it's you, Kendrick. It's really you. [She holds him tightly. Our Class-ssiah begins to look a bit nervous. He waves her off with a dismissive hand.] KL: Heh...uhhh...I've got no idea what you're talking about little lady, but I've never seen you in my life. Now if you excuse me, your Class-ssiah has a-... [The Girl slaps his hand away.] Girl: Damnit, Kendrick! Don't you walk out on us again! Do you know how many nights mom's cried her eyes out not knowing what happened to you!? When's the last time you've even been home!? All this time and you couldn't even pick up the goddamned telephone to tell us that you were okay! Don't you know what you're doing to us!? To your own family!? Just...just come back home, Kendrick. Forget this stupid thing and come home. [Kendrick's face turns cold. It's not one of his goofy serious faces either. He glares down at the girl.] KL: You're trying my patience. I suggest you just get in your car and leave before I get angry. Forget you ever saw me and just go back to Michigan. ["Michigan?" People seem a bit confused at that. Kendrick readjusts his bag's strap across his shoulder and turns to leave.] KL: I don't have time for this. If you'll excuse me, I have a match to get ready for. [The girl doesn't move from the spot. She seems on the verge of tears, clenching her fists with rage.] Girl: God, Kendrick...just... [She wipes tears from her eyes.] Girl: ...just go to hell. [Kendrick winces at the words as the girl turns around and begins to walk away...] [Pause.] "Brianna..." [She stops.] Girl: .... [We cut back to a shot of Kendrick Lane, a look of pain and remorse on his face.] KL: T-Tell them I'm sorry, alright? [He sighs.] KL: Tell them all that I'm sorry. [Brianna looks at her brother, wipes the tears from her eyes and gives a simple nod, before walking away. The fans seem confused by the scene, but Kendrick shoots a dirty glare at them, causing most to quickly make a move to flee, leaving our Class-ssiah alone with his thoughts. Kendrick shakes his head and approaches the entranceway. Before entering, he spots the various flyers on the wall, advertising NiNO. He stares at one particular poster with him and Tommy Ganz splashed across it, ripping it from the wall. He stares at it, muttering.] KL: You bastard. [He crumples the poster in his hands.] KL: You f[bleep]ing bastard. [He throws it to the ground, stomping it beneath his feet.] KL: You ruined it all. There's nothing left for you. [He closes his eyes, trying to calm himself.] KL: Calm down, Kendrick...now's not the time. Now's the time to be... [Kendrick opens his eyes, spitting the word out with utter contempt.] KL: ...classy. [We see Lane slamming his fists into the front door, before pulling it open and slamming it shut behind him. Fade back to...confusion.] JR: ... DD: Whoa. JR: Fans, I don't know what to say.. just.. wow. Kendrick Lane showing a human side, and well, I don't wanna speculate on what just happened. DD: Was that his sister? JR: I.. don't know. DD: Man, that was odd. JR: Well, Dirk ... you might appreciate this. I was actually able to catch up with Dane Levine before tonight's show and get some comments regarding tonight's much anticipated tag team opener he is a part of. DD: You're right! I will appreciate this. And here I thought you didn't like me. JR: Anyway, on to the interview ... [The camera fades to a shot of the backstage area, where Jacob Rodgers stands next to "Dynasty" Dane Levine, who's dressed in his wrestling attire and seems ready for tonight's match. As always, Cassandra Davis is hanging on his arm with a bright smile on her face. Rodgers brings the microphone up as he begins to speak.] JR: Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here with GIW newcomer Dane Le -- [Levine grabs Rodgers' hand and pulls the mic over to himself.] DDL: Actually ... that's "Dynasty" Dane Levine. Get it right, would ya? I'd expect more from a professional broadcast journalist. [Levine releases Rodgers' hand, who looks at Levine in disbelief for a moment, but then continues.] JR: Sorry. Anyw -- DDL: Well? Didn't you have some kind of question you wanted to ask me or something or are you just gonna stand there like an idiot all night? JR: I was just getting to that. Dane Levine, tonight you go into a match that many fans have been looking forward to as you team up with Kendrick Lane to take on the team of Tommy Ganz and Phoenix Stevens. Now, just to remind the fans as to what led up to this match, here's a couple of clips from previous events. Let's take a look. [The camera switches to a TV with a little VCR hooked up to it, which plays the footage on the screen. First it shows a clip of a match between Kendrick Lane and Phoenix Stevens, where Dane Levine runs in and costs Stevens the match. After this, it shows a clip of Tommy Ganz running into the ring and attacking Kendrick Lane by locking him into the Kabel Naria. Then (after a moment of snow on the screen where it's obvious someone didn't know what they were doing when editing this film) it shows a clip of both Dane Levine and Kendrick Lane delivering the Total Elimination to Tommy Ganz, and finally ... a clip is shown of the most recent events, where Lane delivers a deadly superkick to the jaw of Phoenix Stevens that sends him right into the arms of Tommy Ganz and ends up losing them the match. The camera then backs out and shows both Levine, Rodgers, and Cassandra.] JR: After watching this, I have to ask you ... why did you cost your team the match when you superkicked Phoenix Stevens into the waiting arms of Tommy Ganz? I mean, that's not just a loss to Stevens, but to you as well. How do you justify your actions on that night? DDL: First of all, I just want to say ... that's a nice little video montage someone put together there. JR: [smiling] Well thank you ... I put it together myself. DDL: Yeah? How long did it take ya? A good minute thirty? [Rodgers' smile disappears.] DDL: Anyway, to answer the question ... how do I justify my actions? Easy. Did I get pinned? JR: Well, no, but ... DDL: Did I submit? JR: Not really, no ... DDL: Did I tap out? JR: No, but ... DDL: Then I didn't lose jack! Stevens was pissing me off and I took him out, it's that simple. He got pinned, he lost the match. Not me. JR: I see. Speaking of losing, you have yet to taste victory here in the GIW. Is there some reason behind this or would you just call it a case of a rough start? [Levine raises an eyebrow at Rodgers as though to say 'Are you out of your mind?' His face practically turns red with anger at the question, but he slowly regains his composure.] DDL: You're really pushing your luck. And you obviously have no idea what you're talking about. I have yet to taste victory? Well, I have yet to be put into a singles match, either. You think it's easy to win when you're put in tag team match after tag team match? Oh, and let's not forget my favorite ... a triple threat match! Doesn't that sound like a _great_ idea? A triple threat match! Hey, maybe we can see Levine get kicked in the nuts a few times to lose again! When are the suits gonna realize that "Dynasty" Dane Levine is not some trained monkey here to be put through a series of trials to prove his worth!? I'm one of the greatest wrestlers this company has and yet they treat me like some kind of undercard wrestler like your Phoenix Stevens or Tommy Ganz. People like them obtain their fifteen minutes of fame within my shadow. JR: But have you thought about the fact that Ganz and Stevens could very well defeat you and Kendrick Lane inside of that ring? And have you thought that if they do, then you will have officially lost your first four matches in a row here in the GIW? [Levine slowly begins to turn red again as he clenches his teeth and tightens his fist as though he's about to deck Rodgers, who flinches, raising his hands up to protect himself as Levine's redness turns into more of a cross between red and purple due to frustration. Levine shakes his fist at Rodgers a couple of time to let him know what he wants to do to him and Rodgers reacts accordingly, by taking a step or so backward.] DDL: You just don't know when to keep your yapper shut, do you? Fact of the matter is this ... Dane Levine will get his first victory once they stop dicking around and put me into a match where I can actually showcase my ability. Until that time, there's too many variables to guarantee a win. But I'll tell you this ... I got a good feeling about tonight. One way or another, I'm walking out of this event, the biggest show in GIW history to date ... with my first official victory. After all, you'd feel confident too if you had someone with as much class in your corner as "Classy" Kenny Lane! JR: Well, if you and Lane can work together as you have in the past, then perhaps you'll finally be able to break that losing streak of yours ... [Levine's just about lost it now. Cassandra even backs away from him as she's worried as to what he might due. Levine clenches his teeth again and just shakes his head slowly at Rodgers, who anticipates the worst. But surprisingly, Levine controls himself and places his hands on Rodgers' shoulders and then calmly straightens out his collar for him, holding onto it as he does.] DDL: I'll say this one more time and I'll say it slowly so that you might be able to understand me. Keep ... your ... mouth ... SHUT! If I ever hear the words 'losing streak' or anything that might even remotely resemble it and you're referring to me ... I'll pay you a little visit and it won't be pleasant. Get me? [Rodgers simply nods his head in understanding and Levine releases his collar from his grip.] DDL: Good. Now, I've got a match to prepare for ... and win or lose ... I'm still the best in the game! Now go on, get outta here! [Rodgers walks away as the camera fades out.] DD: Hahahaha!! I hope you changed your drawers before we got on air there, Jake. JR: Blow me. DD: Whoa, Jake! JR: Dane Levine is a douche, there, I said it. DD: Heh, good call. JR: Fans, let's finally take it over to Antonio Hervez for the official introductions to our opening contest here at the Nightmare in New Orleans! [Cut over to Hervez.. dressed up in a tiny Armani which shocks us all for various reasons, nevertheless, he still sports the bottle of Cuervo beside him in the ring. The crowd pops big for the little man as he speaks.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our opening contest.. ees a tag team contest scheduled for one fall.. introducing first.. [The opening notes of P.O.D.'s "Boom" begin to play over the PA system and out from behind the curtains steps "Dynasty" Dane Levine. And on his arm is Cassandra Davis, who is always all smiles as she looks out at the crowd and back to Levine.] [Levine is of fairly average height for someone in his profession, but has a very well-chiseled build that's just about as perfect as anyone could ever want without being grotesque. He has short black hair that's spiked up just slightly, though not so much as to be considered a crew cut. He wears a pair of small rectangular sunglasses that rest on the bridge of his nose, but he makes certain everyone can still see the pair of bright green eyes that lie behind the sunglasses. He wears a pair of black tights with the word "Dynasty" written on his ass in red and a pair of red boots with black shin guards and knee pads. Cassandra wears a black leather strapless top that covers from underneath her arms down to her ribs, leaving her midriff bare and a pair of black leather pants that hug tightly to her hips, but curve down in the front and back to be a bit more revealing without showing too much of either side. She wears a pair of black somewhat platform style shoes on her feet that give her a couple more inches to her height.] AH: On his way to the ring.. he is accompanied for the lovely Cassandra [POP!!].. he weighs in tonight at 247 pounds.. and he hails from Saint Louis, Missouri.. here is.. "DYNASTY" DANE LEVINE!!!! [BIG heel pop! As they reach the ring, Levine stops in front of a young boy in the front row. With a smirk on his face, he removes his sunglasses and then carefully places them on the boy's face. Backing up a bit, he takes a good look at the kid and then abruptly snatches the sunglasses off of his face, shaking his head. Looking into the camera with an arrogant grin, he mouths the words 'If ya can't make it look good, then ya shouldn't be wearin' it.' Levine then leads Davis up the steps and sits on the middle rope, allowing her to enter the ring. Dane then hops up to the second rope and outstretches his arms to his sides with that cocky smirk on his face as the whole crowd boos in unison. He just gives off an arrogant chuckle and then he hops back down to look at Davis as he says, 'They're so jealous.' to her and she smiles and nods in agreement. Levine then removes his sunglasses again and places them on Cassie's face. She smiles brightly and then exits the ring.] JR: Oh no, it looks like Levine might have something to say before we can get this match going. DD: So? Let the man speak! I want to hear what he has to say. JR: Of course you do. DD: What's that supposed to mean? [Levine is handed a microphone and he walks around the ring a little, taking a good long look at the audience before saying anything. Pausing for a moment to look into a certain part of the crowd as though he recognizes someone, he slowly brings the mic to his mouth as he points out into the audience.] DDL: Would you take a look at this right here ... it's ass-man and fatty from my first show here in the GIW! Quick, camera man ... get a shot of blimpie and stinky over there! [The camera shows that it is indeed the same two people from his debut, a balding man and a 300 pound behemoth of a woman sitting right in the middle of the fans on the floor.] DDL: I'd think they might try and leave to avoid anyone having to look at them, but by the time that woman got her fat ass out of the building the show would be over! [The crowd begins booing relentlessly, while others can't help but laugh their asses off in the background.] JR: That's terrible! How can he say things like that about these fans? They paid good money to see this show, they shouldn't have to endure this. [Dirk just laughs along with the aforementioned portion of the crowd that found it amusing. Meanwhile, the man stands up and shouts something at Levine.] DDL: What was that? [He shouts it again, this time the camera picks up a barely audible "You can kiss my ass!"] DDL: Actually, I was thinking that might be your problem. Is that fatty sitting next to you your wife, Mr. Assbag? I'm assuming so since you've both been at two different events since I've been here. [The man nods his head and says, "Damn straight she is!"] DDL: Well, then that would explain your condition, wouldn't it? I bet when you get in bed with her, you just can't seem to tell the difference between her ass and her face, so you end up kissin' the wrong end. Then you don't understand it when people are backing away from you due to that stench that trails along with you wherever you go. Y'know, there's a way to fix a condition like that ... it's called a SHOWER. But of course, that's out of the question for people in these parts. If you did that, you might get wet. [The crowd begins booing ruthlessly now and this time, nobody's laughing. Except Dane Levine, obviously.] DDL: Hell, all of you fans seem a bit inbred or something. Is thast what goes on down here in Louisiana? Hell, the only difference about this show tonight and all the previous ones is that we finally get away from that Marina. Otherwise, it's like everyone from Grand Isle got on a bus and followed the GIW here. Which wouldn't surprise me, seeing as how you've all got nothing better to do with your lives aside from looking at people who are better than you in every way imaginable. [Once again, more boos pour out from the audience as they make sure he knows that they don't appreciate his comments.] DDL: And with that, it's time once again for everyone to get their money's worth, no matter how much you don't deserve it, as I once again prove what everyone else is beginning to realize. Why this one man ... is worth an entire Dynasty. [The crowd continues to boo as Levine hands the mic back to the ringside attendant and awaits his opponents.] AH: And his partner.. [A voice rings over the PA system...] Voice: "CLA...CLA...CLA...CLASSY~!" [And with that, "Lowrider" by WAR begins to play as we see "CLASSY~!" Kendrick Lane slowly strutting his way out from behind the curtains. He's wearing a feathered fedora hat along with a sleeveless red sequined robe over his wrestling attire. Bobbing his head to the beat of the song in a completely unrhythmic sort of way, he begins to shake his shoulders and points his fingers furiously as the trumpets blare, grooving towards the ring in a bizarre and foolish looking sort of strut. The crowd begins to boo, because...hell, he looks like a damned fool.] #Take a little trip...# #Take a little trip...# #Take a little trip with meeeee...# AH: On his way to the ring.. he weighs in tonight at 258 pounds.. and he hails from Syracuse, New York.. here is.. "CLASSY" KENDRICK LANE!!!!!!!!! [As if he didn't look stupid enough already, Lane stops in front of the ring apron to sing along with his own theme music. With each chorus, he points to a section of the crowd...whom begin to throw bottles and such at him. He pulls off his robe and hands it to the ringside attendant, whips off his hat, and leaps onto the ring apron, where he...strikes a pose. He steps through the ring ropes and struts around the ring some more, snapping his fingers to the beat as the song mercifully...ends.] AH: And their opponents.. introducing first.. [As the lights dim, a guitar rift, starts banging over the Grand Isle speakers, as the crowd rises to its feet, to get a good look at the entrance. The bass leads into the lyrics of "Bullet in the Head" by Rage Against the Machine, and as the lyrics blare over the PA, a shadow appears from the back.] # This time the bullet cold rocked ya # # A yellow ribbon instead of a swastika # # Nothin' proper about ya propaganda # # Fools follow rules when the set commands ya # # Said it was blue # # When ya blood was read # # That's how ya got a bullet blasted through ya head # [Then from the back appears, Phoenix Stevens, a very well toned man, with straggily blonde hair. He smiles, as he starts to progress down the ramp, slapping fans pushed against the barriers hands. The song then kicks into full gear.] AH: On his way to the ring.. he weighs in tonight at 228 pounds.. and he hails from Salem, Oregon.. here is.. PHOENIX STEVENS!!! # They load the clip in omnicolour # # Said they pack the 9, they fire it at prime time # # The sleeping gas, every home was like Alcatraz # # And mutha fuckas lost their minds # [Stevens is wearing black and yellow styled pants, the norm, and on one of the pant legs he sports the mythical bird, the phoenix. He continues down the ramp, and slides into the ring, perching himself on the lower turnbuckle inside the ring, smiling and pointing at the fans as they applaud in approval.] # Just victims of the in-house drive-by! # # They say jump, you say how high # # Yeah # # Just victims of the in-house drive-by! # # They say jump, you say how high # # Run it! # [As the chorus to the song ends he moves toward a corner of the ring and as the lights come back on, Stevens is in his corner, with his head down, focused as ever and concentrating on the match ahead of him.] AH: And his partner.. [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 will soon become attributed to the man whom uses it as his entrance theme. That man? The man who has stepped out from backstage, and stands stoically several feet from said entrance; "Deathdealer" Tommy Ganz.] #One day you're thinking that maybe you're feeling better #And you're probably an OK person, if only you had a job [Tommy, wearing a red singlet with a black anhk emblazoned across the chest, along with matching elbow pads, knee pads, and wrestling boots, makes his way to the ring, looking serious to a fault.] #Through the hollow tombs can see them #Through their mouths I can hear them praying for pain #But it's only a game [Rolling into the ring, Tommy uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet, then shuffles over to his corner, adjusting his elbow and knee pads.] AH: On his way to the ring.. he weighs in tonight at 234 pounds and he hails from Boston, Massachusetts.. here is.. "DEATHDEALER" TOMMY GANZ!!!!!!!!!!! [BIG POP!!] #Listen, man, I know #That things are really rough #And everybody gets you #And life is really tough [One hand is raised, letting the fans know he's ready, which draws a mini-pop. He _is_ somewhat new, mind you.] #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.] --------------------------------------------------------- The Nightmare in New Orleans: Tag Team Opening Contest!! Dane Levine/Kendrick Lane vs. Phoenix Stevens/Tommy Ganz Written By: Darry --------------------------------------------------------- [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: And we're off, with the first match of Nightmare in New Orleans, with what should be a fast-paced match-up despite the style clashes displayed here... DD: I'd just like to go head and say this now, just to get it out of the way before we get any further into the show. Does anyone other than me think it's odd that the name of this show is "The Nightmare in New Orleans" and its being broadcast from Saint Louis? JR: Levine and Stevens starting our match, as Kendrick Lane seems noticeably reluctant to enter first for his team... DD: That's CLASSY~! Kendrick Lane. [Feeling out process to start, as Levine and Stevens circle into the collar-and-elbow. Levine quickly overpowers Stevens, hitting the armbar, then torquing it with rotation. Stevens counters by sending Levine into the ropes, but Dane ducks under the lariat attempt, coming through on the far side with a kick to the gut.] WHAM! JR: Beautiful Brainbuster from Levine. DD: Nice to see you putting aside your obvious bias to call what was, indeed, a beautiful Brainbuster, quite possibly the best I've ever seen. JR: That's pushing it. [Meanwhile, Levine tries to end things early, going for the quick cover...] 1... 2... Kickout! JR: Levine surely holding nothing back here, hitting that Brainbuster early, with absolutely no wearing down of his opponent. [Meanwhile, Levine jumps up from the cover, stomping Stevens in the chest. Satisfied with his handiwork, Dane saunters across the ring, mounts the ropes...] Thuuud! JR: High-angle moonsault and another cover! 1... 2... Kickout! JR: I think Levine is a little too much for Pheonix Stevens to handle here at the start. Levine heading over for the tag... [Heel pop!] JR: ...and Kendrick Lane leans back on the apron, out of Levine's reach? DD: Hey! Lane knows Levine's got this thing under control. Why should he sully such classy hands with the likes of Stevens unless absolutely necessary? [Slap!] JR: Meanwhile, on the other side of the ring, the miscommunication between Levine and Lane has allowed Pheonix to tag in his partner... DD: Lookout! [Ganz rushes Levine, but Dane turns in time to see the charge and sidestep it in a timely fashion, Ganz's momentum sending him chest-first into the turnbuckles. Immediately after, Lane reaches across the ropes, slapping Levine's shoulder and jumping into the ring.] JR: Oh, sure, now he makes the tag, with Ganz on the mat. DD: That's some CLASSY~! strategy! [Tommy gets to his knees as Lane attempts to plant his boot in Ganz's face, but Tommy manages to grab Lane's boot and hold it as he stands. Kendrick, wobbling and hopping on one leg, attempts to regain his footing, but too late. Ganz sweeps Lane's other, free leg out from under him, using the held leg to drag Kendrick into the center of the ring.] JR: Time to go to school! [Lane almost immediately begins to howl as Ganz quickly locks him into a picture-perfect figure four leglock. The official gets on hands and knees looking for the submission, and indeed, he might have gotten it before Levine rushes into the ring, drawing Stevens in from the far side. A chorus of boos meets all ears as the official stands between Stevens and Levine, attempting to push Stevens out of the ring again.] JR: Turn around, ref! WHACK! DD: Hehe! JR: A hard kick to Ganz's face, who had broken the leglock but didn't manage to get to his feet in time to avoid the blow. Now, Levine is lifting Tommy... [The crowd winces as one as Dane drops Ganz across his knee with a backbreaker. The official has since returned, administering the five-count on the double-team as Lane... remarkably... begins to scale the ropes...] JR: What in the world is he doing? DD: LUCHA LANE! [In what may be, perhaps, one of the ugliest "high flying" maneuvers of all time, Lane comes off the top rope with a kneedrop, coming within inches of missing Ganz's skull altogether as he drops a knee across Tommy's forehead. Levine, an odd look on his face, exits the ring.] JR: Lane in control now, and he's holding Ganz's legs off the mat while he stomps Tommy in the chest. DD: Go, Kenny, go! [Kendrick begins attempting to turn Tommy in a Boston Crab attempt, but Ganz, the better of the two on the mat, reverses the hold into a Crab of his own, this one of the single-legged variety.] JR: Lookout! CRAAAASH! [Mild "GIW!" chant breaks out as Levine comes off the top rope with a missle dropkick, directly in the face of Ganz, sending Tommy sprawling. Lane immediately scrambles across the ring, making the quick tag to his partner.] JR: Tag Levine, as Ganz is getting to his feet... Levine with the Irish whip in the corner, reversal by Tommy... [Dane his the turnbuckle pads hard, stumbling out of the corner. Ganz whirls him, lifting him up and dropping the bottom out with a Backdrop Driver. Floating over, he locks in a Dragon Sleeper.] JR: Nice, smooth transition offense from Ganz, the mat master. DD: Bah. Let Lane back in the ring, -he'll- show you some real matwork. [After a few moments, Ganz releases the hold. A few stomps later, Tommy's lifted Levine off the mat and into a headscissors...] THUUUUUD! JR: More punishment to the neck, now, as Ganz spikes Levine with the Tombstone Piledriver. Cover! 1... 2... Kickout! [Heel pop!] DD: Woot! JR: Might take a little more than that to put down Dane... [Almost as if on cue, Ganz locks up Levine, turning him and lifting into position for a Gory Special, much to the delight of the crowd. As Dane cries out in pain, Tommy drops and delivers a neckbreaker to finish the hold. Dane immediately grabs at his neck.] DD: Oh, Dane... JR: Don't grab a body part when Ganz's in the ring... [Like a shark that smells blood in the water, Tommy sets in with the stomps on Levine's neck, quick, rapid-fire shots. Levine rolls about the ring before Tommy picks him up, going for the Irish whip...] JR: Reversal by Dane. Belly-to-belly! DD: Tag, Dane! Tag! [Levine crawls across the ring, stretching out his hand to Lane, but yet again, the Classy one leans away from the tag, giving Ganz enough time to get to his feet, grab Dane by the leg, and drag him back into the center of the ring...] JR: What the hell was that?! DD: I think Lane was leaning back to try and remove an eyelash from his eye or somethin'... [Ganz drops a couple of elbows on the back of Dane's neck before squatting over Levine's neck...] JR: Camel clutch! Camel clutch! DD: Noooooo! JR: Ganz -really- yanking back on that sore neck of Levine's, and you can hear Dane screaming from here... DD: Suck it up, Levine! Help is just a tag away! [After over a minute in the hold, the official asks for the submission from Levine. As Dane begins to speak, Lane rushes the ring, knee-lifting Ganz in the grill and breaking the hold.] [Heel pop!] JR: It was all over there! DD: Tag! Tag, damn you! [The two begin to struggle to their feet... tag Stevens! Tag Lane!] JR: Stevens and Lane brawling in the center of the ring! Right hand from Lane! Another! Stevens is getting the worst of it! DD: And rightfully so! [Meanwhile, Levine and Ganz struggle to their feet, shaking out the cobwebs.] JR: The official is trying to get control here, but I don't know if it's gonna' happen... [Stevens, reeling, is Irish whipped into a far corner by Lane, who immediately follows with a shoulderblock to the stomach. Afterwards, he switches his focus over to Ganz, beginning to stomp away at the other as Tommy tries to get to his feet. Meanwhile, the recovering Levine takes Lane's place battering Pheonix, pushing him back into the corner and blatantly choking him...] DD: Ref's trying to break that choke... I mean... is Pheonix choking? Someone get a doctor! JR: What's Lane doing? [Meanwhile, Lane has reached into his tights, fetching out... brass knuckles!] JR: Knucks! Lane's got knucks! THWAK! DD: Teehee! JR: Down goes Ganz! -Now- the ref turns... Levine rushing over... he's choking Ganz! Now the ref is trying to break - that- up! Turn around ref! BAM! DD: Was that a tooth? JR: Dammit! Lane with a shot with those brass knuckles right in Steven's mouth! And now he's shoving them back into his tights! DD: I won't say nothin' if you don't! [Ganz and Levine begin to brawl, as Ganz has managed to fight off Levine long enough to get to his feet...] THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD! DD: CLASS ACT! CLASS ACT! JR: Kendrick Lane hit the Class Act, a fireman's carry transitioning into a Reverse DDT... now the cover! 1... 2.... [Levine blindsides Ganz with a lariat as Tommy attempts to break up the cover...] ... JR: LANE'S FEET ARE ON THE DAMNED ROPES! 3!!! [Ding, ding, ding!] AH: Ladeez and gentlemen, the winnahs of the match... "CLASSY" KENDRICK LANE AND DANE LEVIIIIINNNNNEEEE!! JR: Dammit! It took brass knuckles, distracting the ref, and Lane's feet on the ropes to put this one away! DD: But away it is! JR: And now those two are stomping on Stevens...! [Heel pop, as Lane stands and he and Levine begin stomping Stevens right on the back of the neck. The beatdown continues for quite a bit, before Ganz begins to stir. As the two see Tommy making his way off the mat, they exit the ring, smirks on their faces...] JR: Lane and Levine steal one... DD: CLASSY~! JR: Let's go to the back and see what's going on.. [Fade backstage, where the man who minutes earlier pulled up in the light blue Corolla is now walking around, his gym bag and luggage in tow. A couple wrestlers walk past, oblivious to the man, before referee Eli Francois stops him.] EF: Sir, what are you doing back here? MAN: I'm here to wrestle. [Francois looks at the man, puzzled.] EF: All the wrestlers scheduled to be on the show have already arrived. Are you new? MAN: I guess you could say that ... OK, here's the story. I trained for a year in Maryland under Dan Kauffman. You heard of him? [Francois gives no reaction.] MAN: No? Damn, that's strange. The guy said he was a fairly well-known wrestler. Maybe he just has an inflated view of himself ... anyway, that's not important. What's important is, I came across this website for Grand Isle Wrestling and saw they ... well, you guys ... were having a show tonight, and I figured, what the hell, you know? So I left Maryland yesterday, and here I am. Long-ass drive, lemme tell you ... anyway, I've got my gear and I'm ready to go. [Francois shakes his head.] EF: You mean to tell me you drove halfway across the country in the last two days to get here, even though you're not even employed here? Son, the business doesn't work this way. You don't just show up at an event and get a match. God damn ... how old are you? MAN: Twenty-two. [Both guys just look at each other for a couple of seconds, neither one speaking. Then Francois takes a breath ...] EF: There may actually be an opening. I don't envy you if the opening is what I think it is ... but you've driven all this way, and you've got your stuff, so ... let me go talk to the brass and see what I can do. [Francois starts walking away, then stops and turns back around.] EF: Oh yeah ... your name? MAN: Parker. Jamison Parker. [Francois starts walking back away ...] EF: Good enough, Jason. Stay right here. JP: No, it's Jamison ... [Francois doesn't respond and quickly vanishes from view. Parker stands there, watching, before the shot fades back to ringside.] DD: Does Eli even have a conscious? If he fits this young kid into the mix, you do know who he'd be fighting, don't you? JR: [shrugs] Yeah.. what a horrible way to debut if that is the case. But last I checked, we still hadn't found the madman a match.. so.. I think this might be the match. DD: Jamison Parker was twenty-one. JR: Real nice obit, there. DD: I know! JR: Fans, let's hear what the Scrayper had to say about his openly contracted contest tonight. [In the distance, you can hear the cheers and chants of the fans already at the Cardinal Gymnasium. The camera pulls its shot down from the dark wooden ceiling, metal bars race from one side to the other.. it is made somewhat obvious that from the stomps above and the angled wood ceiling that we are under the bleachers of the gym. As the camera pulls down, we can make out the short chubby figure of none other than Jeremiah Spize, or simply Mr. Spize. He seems to be a bit on edge as his head shifts from side to side looking around as if he had lost something...] MS: I can't talk long... I fear it will find me soon. It said I would no longer be able to warn you of what it intends, and due to the pact I made with it... I cannot. [A loud stomp and Spize spins around. But seeing nothing, he spins back around and pats away at his sweat covered face with a black silk hankerchief.] MS: But, I can still warn you that tonight it plans on leaving a lasting impression. It plans on leaving everyone in this arena with a true nightmare to remember... I begged for it to reconsider, but it is one to be reasoned with. This is my only chance for a warning to you, who ever you are... stay away, stay away from the Scrayper. [Another loud stomp and Spize again turns around checking to see if it is who he is hiding from. He slowly spins around and places his hand up on one of the solid metal posts of the wheel system, with his other hand he pats away even more sweat from his face.] MS: I fear I have little time left, but just to warn you... beware of what it has hid- [Just then there's a snapping noise. Spize goes to turn around, but it seems as if his hand has been handcuffed to the metal post... Spize pulls at it a few times, but he knows who is near by.] MS: Forgive me! Forgive me! I didn't know what else to do! [From the shadows behind, the outline of a pale mask begins to take shape as it begins to walk closer to Spize. Spize stops fighting the handcuffs and instead opts to reason with it by dropping down and beg for mercy.] MS: I didn't mean to! Forgive me! I was just try- [A hand from the Scrayper pats Spize on the shoulder and Spize stops mid sentence. Scrayper then lifts a single finger to his mouth and a low "Shhhhh." can be heard. In a low hissing voice the man behind the mask begins to speak...] S: Tonight will make for a true nightmare. For that which you tried to prevent with another failed warning, will echo off of the walls and throughout this entire building. While everyone else will have the option of turning their heads, you will be stuck with only your imagination to wonder what exactly those screams are for, what the cries from mothers and fathers are for. Spize, the worst nightmare has been saved for you. [And with that, the Scrayper disappears back into the shadows. Spize is left alone and tries to pull himself from the handcuffs as we fade to black.] [Fade backstage once again, where Jamison Parker continues to stand with his bags in tow. He looks around the large locker room area as referee Eli Francois returns.] EF: Jason? JP: It's Jamison. EF: Oh. ... Whatever. You're up. JP: I'm up? EF: That's what I said. JP: You mean, I'm supposed to wrestle _now_? [Francois looks at Parker coldly.] EF: Isn't that what you wanted? JP: Well, yeah, but ... EF: No buts. You have a couple minutes to get changed, and then, you're on. I hope all that driving didn't take it out of you, because you're gonna need all the energy you have. [And Francois walks away again, leaving Parker standing there, shell-shocked.] JP: Holy shit! [Fade back to ringside.] DD: This kid is dead, Jake, Eli is a sadistic fizzuck. JR: It's not Eli's fault.. this kid came here to wrestle and we here at GIW are going to give him the opportunity. DD: To wrestle with the devil? JR: Who am I kidding.. this guy is gonna get killed. DD: Yeah, no shit.. should be fun to watch! WOOOOOOOOOOOO!! JR: DIRK!! DD: Bah, too much fun Jake, too much fun. JR: Fans.. let's kick it over to Antonio Hervez for the official introductions to our next contest. DD: Dubbed the Bloodbath! [Cut to Hervez in the ring.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest ees scheduled for one fall.. with a tweenty meenute time leemit.. introducing first.. [Antonio Hervez is handed an index card. He reads it, looks up in surprise, and the attendant nods. The announcer then regains his composure.] AH: ... from Smithsburg, Maryland ... weighing in at 205 pounds ... JASON PARKER!! [Parker walks out from the corner of the gym to absolutely no response, having changed into his rather ordinary wrestling attire ... 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, going over to Hervez. After a couple seconds, Hervez raises his mic.] AH: Correction ... JAMISON PARKER!!! [And still no reaction as the youngster awaits his opponent.] [A guitar riff starts off very slowly, it is from Slayer's "Dead Skin Mask" the music begins to echo over the gymnasium. The fans rise to their feet as they await... it.] # 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, just hearing distance, the Scrayper makes his way out from the back all alone. He wears a long black leather trenchcoat which easily covers his small frame. It is buckled up with large silver straps across the front, and the Scrayper also sports an over-sized brim black hat. 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 # AH: On his way to the ring.. he weighs in tonight at 180 pounds and he hails from South of Heaven, West of Hell.. here is.. THE SCRAYPER!!!!!!! [The Scrayper slowly makes his way to the ring. He doesn't seem to be in all that much of a hurry, as he's probably taking some sort of sickening pleasure in taunting his opponent who just has to stand there and wait for this "man" to get into the ring.] # 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 removes his large hat and slowly unhooks each and every strap on his somewhat tattered trenchcoat. He takes that off and under it is his normal ring gear, consisting of a dark red sleeveless shirt and a pair of black loose fitting satin pants. His hands are wrapped with black tape up to the elbows and down to the fingerless gloves he wears. Slowly he strides up the ring apron and into the ring. Jamison Parker gets wide-eyed and takes a big, deep breath as he awaits the bell.] ----------------------------------------------- Nightmare in New Orleans: Singles Debut!!!!!!! Jamison Parker vs. The Scrayper Written By: Jimmy Testes ----------------------------------------------- [DING!! DING!! DING!!] DD: Goddamn... I can't stand the sight of this kid, Rodgers. JR: Give him a break, Dirk. He's new. Besides, I'm sure you had a pretty shaky start when you were starting out as a bookie. DD: Uhh... well... I probably got my fingers broken twice by the Mafia. But it was THE MAFIA! They rock! JR: Liar. DD: Shut up. [The match begins with the Scrayper just standing there, glancing at Jamison Parker, who begins circling around him. The crowd, to say the least, doesn't seem too impressed.] DD: What the hell is Parker doing? Trying to make the Scrayper dizzy or something? This is a guy who left a scar on his own manager's arm, Parker... prepare to die. JR: Parker looks a bit nervous there... but he goes in and gets into a collar and elbow tie-up with the Scrayper... [Parker corners Scrayper against the turnbuckles. Referee Eli Francois gets in between them, trying to prompt a clean break. Jamison, being the good kid he is, backs off of the Scrayper.] JR: And we have a clean break. DD: Well holy hell, terrific. C'mon, Scrayper, crack his damn head open! JR: Come on, Dirk. Jamison Parker's a rare find. I think the kid's gonna be big someday. DD: Yeah, he's a rare find, alright. Someone even worse than Jamie Roth and that tub of lard, City Jack. [Parker and the Scrayper get into a collar and elbow tie-up again... but this time, the Scrayper puts a knee into Parker's gut. The Scrayper whips him to the ropes, but ends up getting reversed.] DD: Man, this is boring. Can we get someone out here to kill Parker so he can win by DQ and the Scrayper can wrestle someone worth his while? JR: Jamison comes off the ropes -- [THUD!] JR: Ooh! Flying clothesline, nearly taking the Scrayper's head off! DD: Whoopdee doo! JR: The Scrayper pops back to his feet -- hip-toss! And into an armbar, no less! DD: Holy crap... I think Rodgers is getting a hard-on over Parker! JR: Am not! [The Scrayper is downed for the moment as Jamison Parker has the armbar cinched in deep. Francois asks the Scrayper if he wants to submit, but gets a shake of the head, saying "no."] DD: You're not gonna put the Scrayper down that easily with a [BLEEP]ing armbar. Go home, will ya, kid? JR: Oh, man... this is a great match. Parker still has that armbar cinched in -- DD: Great match?! What the [BLEEP] are you talking about? This is like [BLEEP]ing NyQuil! [Scrayper manages to get back to their feet, which forces Parker to stand up, too. However, he still has the armbar locked in. Parker puts Scrayper in a lot more pain by twisting the right arm over even more.] JR: And Parker twists the arm... and you can see the Scrayper reacting in pain! DD: Ugh. C'mon, Scrayper... tear his face off, or something! [Scraper suddenly lashes out and rakes Parker in the eyes! Parker turns around, rubbing his eyes. Scrayper leaps up, springboards off the second rope adjacent to Parker, and nails the rookie with a dropkick to the head that knocks him through the ropes!] DD: Finally! Scrayper just conked Parker in the head with that dropkick and sent him out of the ring! JR: Parker got his eyes raked and then got racked with that springboard dropkick... and the kid is outside the ring, which isn't a great place to be in when you're up against someone like the Scrayper. DD: Damn straight. At this point, just keep your eyes on the Scrayper, baby. My money's on him. JR: I bet it is. DD: Did you say "bet"? JR: Uh... no. [As Parker recovers on the outside, the Scrayper leaps up to the second turnbuckle and just steps up to the third. He doesn't even take the time to aim for Parker -- the Scrayper just recklessly leaps off with a corkscrew moonsault and hits it on the rookie, just _barely_ missing him! Huge highspot pop!] JR: Oh my! Corkscrew moonsault! Welcome to Grand Isle Wrestling, Jamison parker! DD: Oh hell yeah! Kill the kid, Scrayper! Kill him! JR: The execution was a bit sloppy on the part of the Scrayper, but it put Parker down but good, nonetheless. DD: Rodgers, a small bottle of Smirnoff would put Parker down. He's that weak. JR: And you would know this how? DD: Uh... shut up! [During the commentary banter, the Scrayper slowly pulls himself back to his feet using the guardrail. He climbs back onto the ring apron and back up to the top rope, prompting some cheers from those GIW maniacs in the crowd.] JR: The Scrayper is back up top... what does he have in store for Jamison Parker? DD: One hell of an ass lashing. [Though still a bit wobbly, Parker stands up. At this point, the Scrayper leaps off the top with a huge plancha... which Jamison sees out of the corner of his eye and barely dodges...] "CRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSHHHHHH!" [... which causes the Scrayper to eat the guardrail! Shocked pop!] DD: What?! Goddamn it, he missed! JR: And he got nothing but cold, steel guardrail, folks! Parker showing a bit of smarts here as he sidestepped that plancha... but you've gotta wonder whether that was luck or not. DD: You know what I'm gonna say, Jake. That was a damn fluke and you know it. JR: I suppose so. Parker now grabs a semi-conscious Scrayper and throws him into the ring... [Parker reenters the ring and quickly makes a lateral press cover on Scrayper.] JR: Lateral press! ONE! TWO! THR -- [Pop!] JR: No, the Scrayper puts his foot on the rope! DD: The kid really should've hooked the leg... but you get this kind of stupidity from someone trained by Dan Kauffman. _Dan Kauffman_ for God's sake! JR: Hey, there's nothing wrong with Dan Kauffman, okay? DD: Oh, really? Look who he's got wrestling in the ring! It's like watching one of those educational shows on PBS! [Parker, realizing what happened, groans a bit in disappointment. However, instead of bitching, he just goes on with his business and continues wrestling.] JR: Parker sits the Scrayper up... and locks on a sleeperhold! DD: Oh, Christ. If this takes up the whole card, I'm gonna try to convince the whole roster to come out and beat the living crap out of this kid. JR: Stop being a crybaby, Dirk. This is great wrestling being showcased by Jamison Parker. Like I said, this is a rarity. DD: It's a sucktity, that's what it is. [Parker grips the sleeperhold tighter and tighter, cutting off the flow of blood to the Scrayper's face. Obviously, we can't tell whether he's still in it or going out because of the "faceless" mask. However, his body does go somewhat limp.] JR: Parker is really doing a number on the Scrayper, Dirk. He's been out of it since missing that big plancha. DD: Hey, hey... Scrayper's trying to reel the kid in, so relax. JR: Uh-huh. You could've saved some time and given us that excuse earlier. DD: Dammit, I just don't want this kid to win! It'll open up the gates of hell! JR: As if they haven't been opened up here already? [Referee Francois gets in position and lifts up the Scrayper's arm. He lets it go... and it drops.] JR: His arm just dropped... and that doesn't bode well for you, Dirk. DD: Aaargh! Shut up! [Francois holds up Scrayper's arm again... and once again, it drops.] DD: [BLEEP]! JR: Francois holds up Scrayper's arm for a third time... [The old man lets the arm go... and just half an inch away from the mat, the Scrayper manages to keep it up!] DD: Yes! He's still in this! JR: The Scrayper showing some excellent resiliency here as he is slowly getting back to his feet... [As the Scrayper does get to his feet, along with Parker, the sleeperhold is twisted into a side headlock. Scrayper backs Parker up against the ropes and then bounces him off, throwing him to the other side.] JR: Parker gets thrown to the ropes... he comes back and gets leapfrogged by the Scrayper... [Right after landing from the leapfrog, the Scrayper runs towards the ropes and does a handspring, allowing his body to bounce off. He then flips over onto his feet and tries to hit Parker with an elbow... but Parker catches him! Shocked pop!] JR: The Scrayper tried to go for a handspring elbow, but Jamison catches him with a waistlock! DD: And he's not going for a German suplex, either! What the hell is this kid doing? [The kid attempts to go for the Backlund Bridge as he forces the Scrayper forward towards the ropes while in the waistlock... but the Scrayper manages to anchor himself onto the top cable with his arms, catching Parker by surprise, sending him tumbling backwards.] DD: Haha! That was money, Jake... the Scrayper is showing Parker how the game is played. JR: The Scrayper springs off the ropes... [THUD!] DD: Springboard flying leg lariat! Now _that_ was money! JR: Indeed it was "money," nearly knocking off Parker's head! The Scrayper is in control now, as he has Parker and puts him into the corner... "SMACK!" "SMACK!" "SMACK!" "SMACK!" DD: Kick him more! Kick him more! Yeah! JR: The Scrayper just laid some harsh kicks straight to the face of Jamison Parker! "SMACK!" "SMACK!" "SMACK!" [Mixed pop!] JR: Looks like he heard you, Dirk. DD: Damn right he did. [Jamison buckles over a bit, dazed from the repeated kicks. At this point, the Scrayper slips out of the ring and fearlessly pulls the drunken Mexican midget himself, Antonio Hervez, off of his chair and takes it!] DD: Uh-oh... the Scrayper just slighted the midget! JR: Well, I'm sure he'll pay for that sometime down the line... but somehow, I doubt it. DD: Yeah, well, Antonio Hervez never forgets a grudge! Never! [The Scrayper reenters the ring with the chair to little protest from Eli Francois.] JR: Isn't Francois going to do anything about this? DD: Give it a rest, Jake. The old man's probably tired. You know how he is. JR: Right. [The Scrayper unfolds the chair and sets it up in front of the still-dazed Parker. He takes a few backs, dashes towards the chair, springs off of it...] "WHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMM!" [Hardcore pop!] DD: AIR SCRAYPER~! JR: My God! The Scrayper just used his own body to demolish Jamison Parker! What else are we gonna see from him? DD: This is just the beginning, baby. C'mon, Scrayper... tear his [BLEEP]ing face off! JR: This man's got a penchant for violence, Dirk. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to accomplish that. [Parker simply collapses out of the corner and holds his sternum in pain. The Scrayper, who seemingly injured his hip slightly, goes to pick up the chair and folds it... which doesn't bode well for the rookie.] JR: Uh-oh... the rookie's in trouble, as the Scrayper is _not_ done with that chair! The Scrayper sits the youngster against the turnbuckle and drapes that chair over his face. Come on... DD: This is gonna get pretty gory, Jake. Let's see it! JR: I think not. [The Scrayper takes a few steps back and then darts forward...] "THHHHHWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCKKKKKK!" [HUGE SHOCKED POP!] JR: HOLY SHIT! HE JUST SMASHED JAMISON PARKER'S FACE IN WITH THAT CHAIR-ASSISTED YAKUZA KICK! DD: I don't know if I should say this, but I'll say it anyway -- Devon Case, eat your heart out! JR: Not smart, Dirk. Not smart at all. DD: ... [The GIW faithful, despite having a dislike for the Scrayper, pay homage to the enigmatic athlete with chants of...] "G-I-W!" "G-I-W!" "G-I-W!" "G-I-W!" "G-I-W!" "G-I-W!" "G-I-W!" "G-I-W!" DD: It's times like these that I feel proud to be an American. JR: Uhh... [Parker, now sporting a bloody nose, collapses again. The Scrayper tosses the chair aside and covers him.] ONE! TWO! THR -- [Shocked pop!] JR: Unbelievable! Parker got his foot on the rope! DD: Coward! JR: Didn't hear you crying that when the Scrayper did it. DD: Yeah... 'cause it's the Scrayper, man. How stupid do you think I am? JR: I don't think I should answer that. DD: Damn straight, homoslice. [Angrily, the Scrayper snatches Parker back up and tosses him through the ropes onto the floor.] JR: The Scrayper tossing Parker to the outside... and once again, that does not bode well for the rookie. DD: Are you kidding me? He's gonna get sliced and diced out there. JR: The Scrayper still inside the ring comes off the ropes... [Pop!] JR: ... and launches himself through the ropes, hitting Parker dead-on with a tope! Good god! DD: Poor Jamison Parker... we hardly knew ye. Like we would've wanted to, anyway. JR: Cut him some slack, Dirk. He's had a pretty good showing here in what I do believe is his very first match... and on a supercard, no less. DD: Jamison nearly killed me with his shit wrestling. I'm not cutting him any sort of slack. [Another "G-I-W!" chant stirs up following the tope. The Scrayper, instead of standing back up, crawls towards the ring apron and flips it upwards. He begins pulling something out from underneath.] JR: Wow, what a night, Dirk. We've had some exciting action... and this is only the beginning! DD: Done shilling? JR: Shut your damn mouth. At any rate, the Scrayper appears to be searching for something here. DD: Oh my, oh my, what could it be? Hehe... [The crowd pops as the Scrayper drags out a standard issue wooden table. He begins setting it up, unfolding the legs and whatnot.] DD: Oh yeeeah... time to finally say goodbye to Jamison, no? JR: I doubt it, Dirk. Jamison's got spirit, he's got resilience. I don't think he's gonna go down that easily. DD: But you've gotta admit that you're probably not going to survive going through a table in your very first match. JR: That's true... but throw me a bone here, will you? DD: I knew you were gay. [The Scrayper grabs Jamison by the hair, pulling him up. He lays him out on the table and punches him a couple of times in the head for good measure.] JR: The Scrayper has Parker set up on the table as he goes back inside the ring. This will not be pretty, fans... I guarantee you that. DD: Nothing is pretty here in GIW, Jake. JR: Indeed. [The Scrayper bounces off the ropes and dashes towards the side of the ring where Parker is laid out on the table. Just before hitting the ropes on the opposite side, the Scrayper leaps in the air and over the ropes with a no-hands backflip plancha!] DD: HOLY -- "CRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHH!" [HARDCORE POP!] "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: HE MISSED! THE SCRAYPER MISSED THE NO-HANDS BACKFLIP PLANCHA! DD: Grr... that brat Parker moved out of the way! JR: That he did, and because of that, the Scrayper just careened through that table and hit the floor! [Eli Francois begins a slow ten-count as both Parker and the Scrayper are laid out on the floor. The crowd is on their feet, having already seen some hardcore action early in the night.] JR: Listen to these fans, Dirk! DD: What a bunch of sickos! They're happy over the fact the Scrayper just went through a table! JR: No shit. That's one of the things they basically came to see. DD: Barbarians. JR: You should talk, my friend. DD: Yeah... but... I'm an aficionado. That's classier! Hey... it's CLASSY~! JR: Be quiet. [Slowly, Parker, having regained some consciousness, gets back up to his feet. Of course, his nose is still bloody, so he wipes it off with the athletic tape around his wrists.] JR: I think the Scrayper's unconscious, Dirk. He looks straight-up out. DD: Speak for yourself. I think he's reeling Parker in for the kill just like before. JR: What are you talking about? The man just went through a table at about a hundred miles per hour! DD: Yeah, well, sometimes one has to sacrifice themselves for the sake of strategy. [Parker stumbles over to the Scrayper, grabs him, and slides him back inside the ring. Parker then climbs onto the ring apron and ascends the turnbuckles. There, he stands with his back facing the ring.] JR: Jamison Parker, going to attempt a high-risk maneuver here... let's see what he's got in store for us. [Parker leaps off with a moonsault towards the Scrayper...] "THHHHHUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!" [... but the Scrayper lifts his knees in time, driving them into Parker's midsection! Heel pop!] DD: Hah! Nothing, that's what! JR: The Scrayper, despite having taken a thrashing, managed to get the knees up to defend himself against that big moonsault from Parker! [Parker rolls away from the Scrayper, holding his ribs in pain. Francois checks on him.] DD: What a pussy. He needs old Eli to ask if he's OK! Hahaha! JR: It's a smart move, Dirk. The kid might be hurt. DD: Yeah, and your point is...? JR: At any rate, it seems like both men are at a crossroads here. Either the Scrayper needs to follow up with something or Parker has to find a way to regain the advantage. DD: C'mon, Scrayper... I've got my money on you! [The Scrayper slowly gets back to his feet, holding his ribs, which he obviously injured from his "fall." Seeing Parker on his knees, head exposed, the Scrayper rushes towards him...] "SMMMMAAAAAACKKKKK!" [... and nails him with a front dropkick to the face!] JR: Ooh! He might have broken Jamison's nose there! DD: Again, I ask you -- your point is...? JR: The Scrayper drags Parker to the center of the ring... and -- wait a minute. He's grabbing that steel chair from before... "THWWWWWWAAAAAACKKKKKK!" [Hardcore pop!] DD: Haha! That was great! JR: The Scrayper just _threw_ that chair and it hit Parker right in the face, knocking him back down! The Scrayper goes up to the top turnbuckle now... and this might be his finisher, Dirk! DD: Time for a Dream Scream, baby! Whoo! [Parker somehow gathers the strength to get back up to his feet. He quickly walks towards the Scrayper and grabs his leg, causing him to lose balance and crotch himself! Pop!] DD: No! DQ him, Francois! JR: I'm afraid that's legal, Dirk. [The Scrayper flips over and falls on his ass onto the canvas. He tries to get back up, but Parker catches him with a chinlock! Big pop!] JR: Parker has a chinlock locked on out of nowhere! DD: Dammit, c'mon, Scrayper! Do something! [Parker tightens the chinlock even more. However, the Scrayper has something else in mind. As Parker takes him down, the Scrayper begins digging in the side of his own boot for something.] JR: Wait... what the hell is he doing? He's trying to get something out of his boot, apparently... DD: I dunno. Maybe he's got an itch. JR: Why would you scratch an itch while your opponent has you in a chinlock, Dirk? DD: Maybe the Scrayper just likes to get those kinds of things out of the way? [One side of the gym pops a shocked pop as the notice what the Scrayper has pulled out of his boot. The other side, though, is oblivious. As is Francois.] JR: Oh my god... what the hell is that?! That spike has to be at least 10 inches long! DD: Would you relax? JR: Relax?! [BIG SHOCKED POP!] JR: GOOD GOD! HE JUST SKEWERED JAMISON IN THE HEAD WITH THAT METAL SPIKE! AUUGGH! DD: That's the stuff, Scrayper! That's the stuff! JR: Oh, no! Parker is bleeding profusely, Dirk! Jesus! [The blood begins pouring down Parker's face. The Scrayper quickly discards the metal spike and hooks him in a half nelson.] "THHHHHUUUUUUUUUDDDDD!" [ANOTHER SHOCKED POP!] JR: Oh, man! Sickening half-nelson suplex by the Scrayper... he bridges it! ONE! TWO! THREE! [DING!! DING!! DING!!] AH: The winner of the match... THE SCRAYPER! [Heel pop!] JR: That was just wrong. DD: Oh, come on... live a little, Rodgers. Admit that you had a little fun watching Parker his head cracked open by that spike. JR: That was a horrid move by the Scrayper, Dirk. I can't believe you could condone something like that. DD: Well, it's a good breaking in for the rookie to say the least. [The Scrayper exits the ring, but not the ringside area. Instead, he lifts up the ring apron and pulls out an ominous black bag. He throws the back into the ring and slides back in.] JR: Oh, come on. The match is over, Scrayper! DD: He won't listen to reason. Just ask Mr. Spize. Let the kid do what he wants to do and we'll all be happy. JR: Speak for yourself! [The Scrayper opens the black bag and pulls out a pair of handcuffs.] DD: Uh-oh... time to get kinky! JR: ... [Scrayper grabs Parker's wrist and drags him over to the ropes. He puts Parker one cuff... and locks the other cuff onto the top rope! Heel pop!] JR: Would someone get out here and stop this? This is really unnecessary! DD: Let's see what else he's got in that bag now! [Before Parker can come to, Scrayper nails him with a few punches to re-daze him, so to speak. The Scrayper goes back to the bag... and pulls out TWO staple guns! Hardcore pop!] JR: Oh, no... DD: DUAL STAPLE GUNS! HE'S LIKE THAT DUDE FROM DEVIL MAY CRY! [Suddenly, the crowd turns their attention towards the aisle. Mr. Spize runs towards the ring and slides in. He steps in front of the Scrayper and appears to be admonishing him.] DD: Oh, come on, Spize! Get out of there! Let him do his job! JR: It's not his job, Dirk! The match is over! I'm glad _someone_ came out here to stop this. I hope Spize can -- "KAAAAA-CHINNNNNNNNG!" [HARDCORE POP!] JR: ACK! SCRAYPER JUST STAPLEGUNNED SPIZE! DD: Well, that's better than nothing, I guess. [Spize collapses, holding his forehead, screaming. The Scrayper stands over him with a staple gun in each hand. He puts the staple guns onto Spize's back...] "KA-CHING!" "KA-CHING!" "KACHINGKACHINGKACHINGKACHING!" [SHOCKED POP!] JR: Jesus Christ! Stop that! [Spize begins rolling around the ring frantically after taking some staples to his back, screaming bloody murder.] DD: Oh my god... that was too cool. [Calmly, the Scrayper just walks out of the ring and heads towards the back. He's literally left a bloody mess in the ring -- Jamison Parker, still handcuffed to the ropes, and a stapled-up Mr. Spize.] JR: What a goddamn sicko! DD: A sicko without a conscious, that's a beautiful thing. JR: Fans, while security is out here unhooking Parker from the ropes and helping poor Mr. Spize.. DD: Poor my ass. JR: Can we continue? DD: Oh, sure. JR: Up next we've got quite a grudge match.. DD: And oncoming massacre. Jake Cutler owns this Japanese punk, and tonight, he's gonna prove it! JR: Harisoto Mashima has been waiting to get his hands on Jake Cutler, and tonight, the tag champ gets his shot at redemption. DD: Not gonna happen, Jake, no way in hell. JR: Fans, let's hear what Harisoto Mashima had to say concerning tonight's big grudge match.. DD: Me no rikey Amelican! [Normally, on the eve of battle, one would expect the warrior to be dour and serious, focused on the task at hand and those that lay beyond. However, on this eve, The Suicide Dragon is all smiles, one of the relatively shiny, relatively undented GIW Tag Team Championship title belts draped over his shoulder. Cut stone blocks serve as the backdrop for the evening, as Mashima speaks, staring out over the hardwood floors of the gymnasium within arm's reach.] HM: Finally, we've finished. Kellan and I proved all the doubters, all the naysayers, all the opponents... wrong. Robby and I walked into the cage the underdogs and walked out the champions. Now, now that it's finally finished, we don't really seem the underdogs anymore. [Mash chuckles.] HM: So, you could imagine my surprise when, following having the everloving s[BEEP] beaten out of me by Leviticus Nelson and Russ Brady, our esteemed champion saw fit to enter into the ring along with his flunkies and show me just what sort of world I'd entered. I gotta' say. I like it. [The smile fades momentarily, faltered, before returning, this time seemingly forced.] HM: Right now, my attentions are focused on two men, one that's been mysteriously... ineffectual... as of late, and another that scares the living crap out of me, quite frankly. But McBaine? Sometimes, you watch young guys getting the hell stomped out of them by the old dogs and nothing ever comes of it. You watch them getting pounded unmercifully, and nobody says or does anything to the attacker afterwards. Like I said, my attentions are focused elsewhere, at the moment. I've got my end of a title to defend, I've got payback to beat out of Jake Cutler's hide, and I've got a lunatic attempting to seriously cramp my style. Right now, I don't have the time to do it. But some day, McBaine, some day, you and I, we're gonna' have ourselves a little reckoning. You see the situation a lot. Some guy gets hit, he's busy elsewhere, and eventually, we all forget. Well, I'm busy elsewhere. But I promise you. I don't ever forget, not ever. You might have seen that as insignificant. You'll forget. But I won't, not until I've kick- started your memory. Literally. I'm busy now. But someday, someday I'll be all clear, schedule-wise. Someday, there won't be a Brazilian begging for an ass kicking, belts to defend, or a masked psychopath. Someday, I'll have a huge chunk of free time, with the only thing doing being me putting out your other eye and laughing. Maybe not tomorrow, or next week, or even next month, or the month after that. But someday. [Harisoto adjusts the belt on his shoulder.] HM: But McBaine wasn't the only person that chose to go and get himself involved with me, oh, no. I hear your name is Scrayper, boy, and you've apparently got a hard-on for the Dragon. See, that's a good thing... and that's a bad thing. The good thing? Right now, I'm on the biggest upswing of my career. Right now, there's no ceiling, and there's no limit. By the end of it, going to war with me might give us both quite the names. Maybe that's what you were thinking when you jumped off that cage. I really don't have any idea what could be going through a mind like that. But I'll tell you what I do know. The bad thing? You just picked the fight of your life. I'm always up for war, Scrayper. I live on it. I thrive on it. I never feel more alive than when I'm kicking some guy's teeth out of his head. By the end of it, going to war with me... might just see you not able to capitalize on that name you built. [The sound of cheering fans heralds the arrival of the crowd into the building. The smile returns again, that easy, broad grin, at the sight of them.] HM: That's all the future, though. That's all tomorrow, next week, and next year. Right here, right now, I've the opportunity to go out there and pay back the man that saw fit to bash my skull open with a crowbar. Jake, you've been quiet since then. I don't know what it is. Fear, maybe? You had to know tonight was coming. When you dropped that bar on my head, you had to know what would happen. You had to know that no matter what it took, I'd make it here, that I'd make it to St. Louis. You knew that, eventually, there'd be revenge for your deed. My breed of revenge. And that kind? That kind usually involves your face, my foot... your neck and the Final Angel Driver. Maybe it is fear, after all. But fear not, Jake. Soon, so very soon, that special kind of revenge will be more than happy to call your shot with the crowbar and raise you an end to your misery. It'll all be over soon. I promise. [With that, The Dragon walks away, making ready for his match tonight.] DD: Wow, I'll give the youngster credit.. he's got some brass on him.. calling out the champ, the Scrayper, and Jake Cutler? Well, he's either got balls or delusions of grandeur. JR: Perhaps a little of both. DD: _Definitely_ a little of both. JR: Regardless, Dirk, he looks pumped and primed to take it to Jake Cutler here in just a few minutes and that can't be good for the silent as of late Razorblade. DD: He can be silent all he wants, but he can also turn up the might at will. JR: We shall see about that.. lets send it over to Antonio for the introductions. [Cut to Hervez.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest ees a singles contest scheduled for one fall.. with a tweenty meenute time leemit.. introducing first.. [It's at this time that the opening strains of "More Human Than Human" by White Zombie begins to crawl through the speakers, filtering out over the P.A. system and kindling a small reaction from the die-hard Jake Cutler fans that have become more like a cult then a cheering section. The arena lights fade as the beat escalates, led by the trademark guitar riff by Rob Zombie himself as the "Razorblade" steps lithely through the curtain.] # I am the astro-creep # # a demolition style hell American freak # # I am the crawling dead # # a phantom in a box shadow in your head # # say acid suicide freedom of the blast # # read the fucker lies # # scratch off the broken skin # # tear into my heart # # make me do it again yeah # # more human than human # [The Brazilian Assassin steps forward, his head bowing down to the masses while beads of sweat drip down from his glistening, hairless scalp. He's clad in a tattered "Razorblade" shirt, the sleeveless ends grip onto his broad shoulders that reveal his defined, spider veined arms. Tight gray shorts hug his dense quadriceps, stopping halfway between his waist and kneecap and lined with a thin black stripe that spikes down into the word, "TAPOUT" on his rear side. A black ensemble of knee, shin, and elbow pads decorate the respectful body parts while his hands and feet are wrapped tightly in black tape.] AH: On his way to the ring.. he weighs in tonight at 256 pounds and he hails from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.. here is.. "RAZORBLADE" JAKE CUTLER!!!!!!!!!!!! # I am the jigsaw man # # I turn the world around with a skeleton hand say # # I am electric head # # a cannibal core # # a television said # # yeah # # do not victimize # # read the motherfucker-psychoholic lies # # into a psychic war # # I tear my soul apart and I eat it some more # # more human than human # [Finally Cutler tilts his head up, his black eyes now dead set on the ring ahead of him. The Assassin lurks down the long GIW aisle, effortlessly dragging his feet along the at times blood stained walk way.] # I am the ripper man # # a locomotion mind # # love American style # # yeah I am the nexus one # # I want more life # # fucker I ain't done - yeah # # more human than human # [Finally the Brazilian native ascends the ring steps, raising one clenched fist into the air before stepping over the middle rope. The fans, still in awe if not tantalized by the body crippler himself, begin to show some sort of reaction as they boo the mighty warrior known as Jake Cutler as the music fades out.] AH: And his opponent.. [The opening baseline for 311's "Sick Tight" begins to flow as The Suicide Dragon makes his appearance, black leather mask in hand.] ## Head rush! ## [Clad in black cords rolled in cuffs, ratty black Chucks, and a white Mashima tank top, complete with dragon biting down on a shotgun, in green, on the torso, he is the image of casual slacker hipster. Wearing a smile, he rolls under the ropes, coming up quickly for the ring introductions.] AH: Hailing from Nippon, Japan, at a weight of two hundred and thirty pounds... [Hari slips the mask over his face, adjusting the two thick, brown elastic bands attached to the sides, along the back. Cut square in the eyes and the mouth, the leather has been tooled into the image of Mikaboshi, Japanese war god and fire spirit, a harsh, scowling visage not unlike the stereotypical Asian "Oni".] AH: THE SUICIDE DRAGON... HARISOTO MASHIMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [With that, Mash runs his paces, stretching a bit before leaning against the corner turnbuckle padding in wait...] ---------------------------------------------- Nightmare in New Orleans: Singles Contest!!!! "Razorblade" Jake Cutler vs. Harisoto Mashima Written by: Mike Gilliland ---------------------------------------------- [DING!! DING!! DING!!] [POP! as Mashima tears across the rings towards Cutler.. catching him off-balance with stinging right hands!] JR: A right! And another! And another! And another! Mash wasting no time here as he backs Cutler into the ropes.. he backs away as Cutler attempts the wipe the cobwebs out.. DD: He better hurry up because Mash is on fire.. incoming! JR: Mash charging! [TTTTTHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWAAAAACCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!!!!! BIG TIME POP!!!!!] JR: MY GOD! Running Yakuza Kick just caught Cutler flush in the face and sent Cutler up and over the top and to the floor! HNarisoto is like a man possessed! DD: This definitely does not bode well for the Razorblade. JR: Cutler staggers back to his feet quickly on the outside, I don't even think he can figure out what is going on here as Mash backs away in the ring.. it looks like.. DD: It looks like he's sizing Cutler up, that is what it look like. [And Dirk is correct as Mash jumps into a dead sprint towards Cutler's side of the ring..] DD: Watch out Jake! [As Mash reaches the ropes.. he leaps.. ..springing over the ropes.. ..flipping one in mid-air.. ..flashbulb!!!!!!.. ..TTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [HUGE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: OH MY!!!! NO HANDS SOMERSAULT PLANCHA BY MASHIMA LANDS DEAD ON!! BOTH MEN ARE DOWN ON THE OUTSIDE, WHAT A MOVE!! DD: Good christ Mash is pissed off right now! JR: Harisoto has a lot of pent up frustration with this man for month's of mental torture and anguish and right now, under the hot lights of New Orleans, it's payback time! DD: Apparently so. JR: The talented purodore popping back up to his feet now as Cutler is trying desperate to gain some balance as he uses the guardrail to prop himself up.. but it doesn't look like he knows where he is. [That's right.. Cutler looks absolutely out of it as Mashima grabs him by the hair.. flinging him like a piece of meat.. right into the ringpost! CLANG! And backfirst again into the guardrail!] JR: Mashima using Cutler as a pinball as he drives him _again_ into the ringpost! [CLANG!] And again backfirst into the guardrail! I've never seen the purodore this angry before, never! DD: Me neither, this is a pretty interesting show early, it's like Mashima has just snapped. Sorta fun, but it still sucks. JR: Cutler flung back into the ring now as Mash hops onto the ring apron.. eyeing up his prey as Cutler quickly stumbles to his feet.. I'm not sure if he has any idea that Mash is targeting him on the apron behind him.. DD: Did someone drug Cutler tonight? He looks awful. JR: Some rise to the occasion, and some, well.. DD: I get your drift. JR: Cutler turning to face.. as Mashima uses the ropes.. springboarding.. [TTTTTTTTHHHHHHWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!] [BIG POP!!!!!!!!] JR: SPeingboard dropkick caught Cutler right in the jaw and his momentum sent him sliding across the ring and into a corner! Talk about being right on, my God! DD: That was a sick thud I heard.. the foot met flesh at an alarming rate and you gotta believe that'll leave a mark! JR: Time will tell. DD: If Mash doesn't just end it here.. he's a one man wrecking crew right now. [Mashima stalks over to Cutler.. dragging him to his feet as he prepares for an Irish whip as he backs Cutler into the ropes..] JR: Irish whip by Mash as Cutler is sent off the far ropes.. Mash stepping out from the ropes as the Razorblade returns.. [Thud!] and he drops Cutler hard to the mat with a drop toe hold! Mash quickly back up and lifting Cutler up.. rear waistlock.. DD: Right into a full nelson! JR: Mashima locking in that full nelson submission tight here as he takes a look behind him.. you don't think? DD: Awww yeah I do! JR: He lifts! [TTTTTTHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!! POP!!!!!] JR: DRAGON SUPLEX!!! AND MASHIMA HOLDS AND ROLLS!!! DD: My God!! He's got Mash still hooked in that full nelson as they roll back up.. and Mash is switching locks! [Yep, to a roar from the crowd, Mash goes from the full nelson to a half nelson!] JR: Half nel- [TTTTTTHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!! POP!!!!!!!] JR: HALF NELSON SUPLEX!!! AND HE HOLDS AND ROLLS AGAIN!!! DD: This is insane! JR: Mashima changing locks again.. pulling Cutler's arms back as he lifts with no hesitation! [TTTTTTTTHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!! BIG POP!!!!!!] JR: HOT DAMN!!! TIGER SUPLEX!!! DD: HE HOLDS AGAIN?! THIS IS INSANE!! JR: Mashima rolling into back up.. as fatigue seems to be setting in as each subsequent suplex gets harder and harder to perform.. DD: Just think of how Cutler feels. JR: Fair enough. [Mashima gets them both back on their feet.. locking in a standing chickenwing to a huge pop from the crowd! Wasting no time.. he lifts..] [TTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!! HUGE POP!!!!!!!!] JR: RELEASE CHICKENWING SUPLEX, AND BY GOD WAS THAT SICK! HE DROPPED CUTLER RIGHT ON HIS NECK!! DD: Evil, Mashima is a bad mutha- JR: Shut'cho mouth. DD: I'm just talkin' 'bout Mash! [...] [Meanwhile, Mashima rolls to his feet as the crowd pops for the effort.. the masked warrior staggering back into the ropes with exhaustion, as Cutler lies rather motionless of the mat.] DD: Why isn't he going for the cover? JR: Because he's not through with Cutler yet, I'm assuming. DD: I dig this attitude.. good stuff here, this is how he should always act. JR: I figured you'd say that. DD: Well, yeah. JR: The crowd roars it's approval now as Mashima is climbing atop the turnbuckle now.. Cutler rolling over onto his stomach.. the purodore scaling the top rope with such speed and precision that little time is being wasted right here.. DD: He's hitting all cylinders right now, man, I'm thoroughly impressed. JR: As am I. [Mash seems to look out at the crowd through his mask as just the turn of his head ignites a big pop! With that.. ..he leaps.. ..pumping his arms and legs together in the air.. ..flashbulbs going off in the Cardinal Gymnasium.. ..TTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [BIG POP!!!!!] JR: HUGE FROG SPLASH BY HARISOTO MASHIMA AND IT WAS RIGHT ON!! DD: He hit with such an impact that he bounced right into the air!! JR: But he landed right back on top of Cutler! The cover! One!!!!!!! Two!!!!!!! Thr-No! [POP!] Mashima pulled Cutler's shoulders off the canvas! By God, he is out for blood! DD: This rules! JR: Man oh man.. Mashima quickly back to his feet as the crowd applauds this massacre in the making.. the masked man circling his prey like a shark.. DD: Good analogy. JR: Cutler in a whole heap of trouble here as Mashima sits the prone Razorblade up.. seemingly taking aim now as he leans back.. [TTTTTHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!] [TTTTTHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!] [TTTTTHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!] [TTTTTHHHHHHHHWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!] [BIG TIME POP!!!!] JR: MY LORD!!! Four soccer style kicks right to the side of Cutler's face and the beaten Razorblade just slumps over on his side.. he may very well have been knocked out right there! DD: Knocked out, or a serious concussion at least! JR: Did you hear those shots though?! Man, all impact! DD: Mashima was holding back very little, if anything at all, right there. [The masked purodore wastes no time as he grabs Cutler by the head.. lifting him back to his feet.. ducking his head under his armpit.. hoisting him up and carrying him towards the turnbuckle.. sitting the Razorblade on the top turnbuckle. Smack! As Mashima uncorks a wicked stiff shot to the face for safe measure that staggers Cutler on the turnbuckle.] JR: Harisoto climbing up the turnbuckle now after the prone and well, damn near comatose opponent, Mash hooking Cutlers head under his armpit.. looks like he's setting up for a big superplex here.. DD: Awww yeah! JR: Mash with a grab of the tights as he lifts.. he' got Mash high in the air over the top turnbuckle! He drops back! [This doesn't look like a superplex.. ..well.. ..because the top of Cutler's head is making a b-line for the mat.. ..down.. down.. TTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MONSTER POP!!!!!!!] ["HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!"] ["HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!"] ["HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!"] ["HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!"] ["HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!"] JR: Holy shi- DD: Jake! JR: Harisoto Mashima with.. a TOP ROPE BRAINBUSTER?! My god.. Cutler's vertebrae had to compress on impact as he was dropped melon first from the top rope! DD: That ruled so hard! JR: Mashima absolutely annihilating Jake Cutler here in New Orleans, and that top rope brainbuster, well, he may very well have ended Cutler's career! DD: Is he gonna make the cover?! JR: Mashima back to his knees.. and now he leaps on top of Cutler and the hook of the leg.. and this is all but elementary at this point.. One!!!!!!!!! Two!!!!!!!!! Thr-No! [POP!] Mashima pulled Cutler off the canvas again?! DD: Ok, now this is becoming borderline sickening. JR: Agreed. Just look at the face of Cutler, he's out of it and has been for some time now. [The camera cuts to a close-up of Cutler.. face puffy from the beating.. eyes almost closed and certainly glazed over.. the recipient of a brutal ass-whippin'] JR: Mashima kipping back to his feet with a show of strength and agility as he's apparently looking around the arena again.. DD: How can you tell? [With that.. Mash takes his hand and thumb.. and does the universal throat-slash gesture to a HUGE POP! from the crowd!] JR: I think he's signalling for the end, Dirk! DD: Thank God, not even I can stand any more of this.. this is one-sided brutality fest 2002! JR: Indeed it is! The hardcore purodore sensing final blood here as he pulls the broken Razorblade back to his feet.. Mash holding him up under his own weight as Cutler is not, well, conscious I don't think.. DD: Wow, talk about an ass-whipping, sheeit! JR: For sure.. Mash trying to get Cutler to stand on his own feet which Cutler does.. but boy is he wavering! [And with that.. Mash turns away.. using his right arm to pull up his mask to a pop.. spinning.. ..AND SPITTING!!!] [BIG TIME POP!!!] JR: BLACK MIST BY MASHIMA!! HE PUT THE MASK BACK ON!! KICK TO THE STOMACH DOUBLES OVER THE BLACK-FACE CUTLER!! STANDING HEADSCISSORS AND A DOUBLE UNDERHOOK.. HE LIFTS!!!!! [TTTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [BIG, BIG, BIG TIME FACE POP!!!!!] JR: BILLION DRAGON BOMB!!! BILLION DRAGON BOMB!!! MASHIMA WITH THE HOOK OF THE LEG!!!! ONE!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!! THREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [DING!! DING!! DING!!] [MONSTER POP!!!!] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. the winner of the match.. HARISOTO MASHIMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [Another rip-roaring pop! as Mash gets to his feet.. standing over his fallen prey as the fans cheer.] JR: Justice has definitely been served tonight, as Jake Cutler has been absolutely decimated by Harisoto Mashima. DD: That was.. well.. dominating by the tag champ and I hate to say it, but he impressed the hell out of me. JR: Mashima is one of the hottest young stars in all of professional wre- ["Atomic Clock" begins to blast throughout the arena, and the crowd responds with a loud chorus of boos as "The Legendary Career Violator" Bobby Ray Wilkins emerges from the back, dressed in black jeans and a stained white tanktop. Bobby Ray seems to be in good spirits, as he's carrying a can of Old Milwaukee and actually... smiling. This brings down even more boos on him, and naturally BRW is oblivious to this as he gets a mic from ringside... Mashima passing by as Cutler is ushered out.] BRW: Heh... heh... heh heh. Y'all are some funny people... you jus' don't recognize greatness when ya see it! Ah've ended tha careers of _two_ men... two of yer damn "heroes"... Ah'm a legend in mah _spare_ time, an' when it's time ta work? Ah'm a _god_. [HEEL CROWD POP!] BRW: Don't nobody wanna face a god in this here rang... don't nobody wanna a Western Diety from Texas, which is why ain't not one o' y'all done answered mah damn challenge! Where's Levititititicus Nelson at?! He ain't here! How 'bout Russ Brady? That summabitchin' bastard ain't tryin' ta face tha Legendary Career Violator neither! Jamie Roth? Shane Destiny? City Jack? Lucas McCall? Jake Cutler? The Scrayper? Not here, not here, not here, not here, not here, aaaaaaaaand... not here! [BRW pauses and takes a long swig of his beer.] BRW: If ain't no one gonna face me tonight, then here's what Ah'm gonna do... Ah'm gonna enter mahself into tha Heavyweight Title match... And Ah'm gonna win it! [HUGE HEEL CROWD POP!] BRW: That's raight! That's raight! It's mah time! It's mah time! Ah've outgrown tha lot of ya! Y'all summabitches can kiss mah ass and bow down to tha Legendary Career Violator! Bow down, 'cuz Ah'm in yer town! Bow down, 'cuz Ah'm tha greatest Texan that e'er lived an Ah'm championship bound! Bow down, 'cuz Ah ain't playin' witcha- [Suddenly, the opening riffs of Black Label Society's "Bored To Tears" fill the arena! The crowd pops moderate, unsure of just whose arrival this music is meant to signal...] JR: Well, somebody's on their way out! DD: Yeah, but who the hell is it? [Wilkins turns towards the entrance ramp and takes a few steps towards the ropes as the entrance curtain begins to ruffle...] # Tired of this # # Done with that # # Never satisfied with where I'm at # # I sit and think what to do # # Just a motherfucking bore without a clue # [Suddenly, then entrance curtain splits and a the figure of a large man appears on the entrance ramp, his head lowered to further obscure his face...] # Shot my drugs # # Drank my booze # # Tired of joy and self-abuse # # Eternally jaded through and through # # Just a self-loathing dick without a clue # JR: Who _is_ that?! DD: No clue, Rodgers! # Bored to death # # Oh, I'm just bored to tears # # Same old shit just different day and year # # Killed myself but that got boring too # # So beyond the point where it's not true # [The man finally steps into full view, and the crowd pops crazy!] JR: GOOD LORD!!! DD: WHAT THE HELL?!?! [A wide-eyed Wilkins drops his mic and takes a step back from the ropes as the man, clad in black boots, baggy blue jeans, a wife-beater T-shirt, and a faded blue sleeveless denim shirt steps out onto the ramp, causing the crowd to pop huge!] JR: IT'S "DIRTY" DOYLE WOODALL!!! THE DIRTY ONE IS BACK IN GIW!!! DD: I'LL BE DAMNED!!! [Woodall's unruly black hair is pulled back into a pony-tail, and a black patch covers his left eye, the eye that Wilkins nearly cost Woodall with a cast-assisted lariat! Woodall grins wickedly as he slowly continues down the ramp towards the ring!] JR: Woodall is here to answer Wilkins' challenge! DD: Get outta there, Bobby! [Wilkins takes another step back as Woodall suddenly breaks into a sprint, charging down the ramp towards the ring!] JR: And here we go! The Dirty One wants some payback! [The crowd pops insane as Woodall slides under the bottom rope and pops to his feet! Wilkins charges with a clothesline, but Woodall ducks and spins around as Wilkins turns to face him! Woodall throws a big left hand! Another left! Another left! Woodall throws a big right hand that floors Wilkins! Wilkins pops up but Woodall drops him again with a hard right! Wilkins pops up again but Woodall charges, clotheslining him over the top rope and to the floor! Crazy pop!] JR: And there goes Wilkins! Woodall has sent the Violator packing! DD: Get outta here, Bobby! [Woodall pulls the rubber band from his hair and leans over the rope, beckoning Wilkins back in as he backs up the ramp, holding his shoulder! The crowd pops madhouse as Wilkins continues backing up the ramp, despite Woodall's demand that he bring it back to the ring! Woodall picks up the mic in the ring and turns back to Wilkins, who has stopped at the top of the ramp...] DDW: Where ya goin', Wilkins? I thought ya said ya wanted a fight, amigo! [Wilkins glares back at Woodall...] DDW: I can guaran-damn-tee ya there's plenty o' fight waitin' up in this ring for ya, Bobby Ray! What say ya bring that narrow ass o' yers back down here and git ya some o' the Dirty One? [Wilkins continues to stare a hole in Woodall as he beckons Wilkins back to the ring...] DDW: What's the holdup, son? All ya gotta do is put one foot in front o' the other and walk yer happy ass back down that ramp! There ain't nothin' keepin' ya outta this ring but fear an' common sense! [Wilkins looks around at the crowd then back to Woodall, but he doesn't move a muscle. Woodall grins wickedly...] DDW: That's what I thought. Well, since ya obviously ain't grown a pair while the Dirty One's been gone, I guess I'm gonna have to settle for talkin' instead o' fightin'. [Suddenly, the crowd starts chanting... "WELCOME BACK! WEL-COME BACK! WEL-COME BACK!" Woodall looks around, a bit surprised by the crowd's reaction, then turns back to Wilkins...] DDW: I'll give ya this much, Bobby Ray.... ya damned near did it. Ya damned near put the Dirty One in the cooler for good. [Woodall points to the patch over his left eye...] DDW: Ya damned near took my eye with that goddamned cast. Ya damned near put the Dirty One out o' this business. But where I come from... Damned near ain't good enough. [Crowd pop!] DDW: So here's how it's gonna go down, Wilkins. Me and you, we're gonna pick up right where we left off, right before you swung that cast and damned near took away the only thang the Dirty One's ever had that was worth a damn. [Wilkins continues to stare at Woodall...] DDW: And I really don't give a rat's ass whether ya want it or not, 'cause I didn't come all the way back to this God- forsaken place to take no for an answer. The way I see it, Wilkins, ya got two choices. Ya either come to the fight... [Woodall grins wickedly...] DDW: ... or the fight's gonna come to you. [Wilkins stares at Woodall for a moment, then turns his back, splits the curtain, and disappears.] JR: I cannot believe what we have just witnessed here, Dirk! "Dirty" Doyle Woodall has returned to GIW, and he is gunning hard for the man that nearly put him out of wrestling, Bobby Ray Wilkins! DD: Woodall is one tough customer, Rodgers, there's no doubt about that. But the Dirty One is obviously forgetting one thing... Bobby Ray Wilkins has already put him on the shelf once, and by coming back here, he may just be giving Wilkins the chance to finish the job. JR: You may be right, Dirk. But I, for one, can't wait to see these two get back in that ring! DD: You and me both, Rodgers. You and me both. [Woodall leaves the ring with a big grin on his face as the crowd is still hootin' and hollerin' for the big return of the Dirty One! He backs up the entranceway as they cheer more and more..] JR: This place has just exploded since the return of Woodall, and I for am glad to have him back in the Grand Isle! DD: I'd rather.. well.. something, I'm not sure what.. but this sucks. JR: I figured you'd say that. DD: Blow me. JR: Up next fans, we have a battle of the two biggest men in our company.. as Leviticus Nelson goes toe to toe with the man who's targeted Nelson since his first day in the company, the behemoth, Pegasus! DD: Pegs has his number.. he's always been one step ahead of the lumbering, bumbling douche bag. JR: Well.. let's hear what both men had to say about their big match tonight. [SCENE: We see Pegasus standing at a small, out of the way bar. It's pretty much your stereotypical "swampneck" hangout. It's the run down place with the wrap around porch in front. The rail has fallen in most places. A few wicker rockers sit on it. It's also got one neon "Bud Light" sign that happens to buzz and flicker every now and again.] [Pegasus stands a few feet in front of the establishment. He's decked out in a form-fitting T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. He's got his hair tied back into a loose pony tail. His hands are shoved into his pockets. He just looks at the camera... for once a serious look on his face.] PEGASUS: You never cease to amaze me, Nelson. Since I've arrived, you've become darker and darker like that's suppose to actually do something where it concerns me. Most of what you say is cryptic, and I'll give you props for some rather interesting analogies. That's it. That's where it ends, and I'm where reality begins. And might I make a suggestion? [He removes one hand from his pocket and waves the camera closer. We zoom in.] PEGASUS: Go ahead and drop it. [He waves his arm in front of him and to his right.] PEGASUS: All that's lost on this place's indigenous people. They've got the common smarts of about my shoe size, and that's not a good thing. [He shakes his head.] PEGASUS: Really. It's not. And it's going to do you more harm than good. See, if they can't figure out what you're saying? They're going to lose interest in you, which means you'll lose about half the pizazz you normally have. [He points to himself.] PEGASUS: I do find what you say as cute. [He nods.] PEGASUS: I do. But it's one thing you hit on that caught my attention. You talked about moments and hinted around being defined by moments. I agree, Nelson. I whole-heartedly do and let me explain why. [He pauses.] PEGASUS: From the moment I started my career, I've had moments, Nelson. I had the moment I started training. I had the drive to succeed like all rookies. I had the will to make whatever I thought of become true. I had the hunger to go after what I wanted and achieve it. [He nods.] PEGASUS: I started off as a tag team wrestler, Nelson. I started off with a decent enough partner in a decent enough promotion with a decent enough alliance behind my back. I walked in and said to myself I wanted the tag belts. [He points to himself.] PEGASUS: _I_ got it, Nelson. After that, I moved on. I said to myself I was going to go and conquer uncharted territory. _I_ did that. I walked into a promotion and decimated an alliance, knocking them out of the promotion to give rise to a new one. I looked at their tag belts and said to myself I wanted those. _I_ got them, and I haven't lost them since. When I told myself I wanted their hardcore belt? _I_ went out and got it. And all the time of me doing bad things to bad people? It came back to me, Nelson. I got what I'd dished out to so many others. I told myself I'd do what I could to get even, but if it didn't happen... I'd let it go and move on. _I_ did that, Nelson. When I realized there was nothing left that really had my interest? I left the spotlight. [Another pause.] PEGASUS: But I watched from the background the entire time. I saw all these moments defining people. I saw what happened when these moments became more important than the time between the moments and the next moment, Nelson. And then I realized there was _one_ thing I never did. The one thing I never did? [He pauses like he's waiting for an answer, but then continues.] PEGASUS: I never lived for the moment, Nelson. I never lived for that one great moment that would define my career, because I know better. Once someone's reached that moment? They've defined everything they're ever going to be and then they cease to be of any actual use anymore. I've seen it happen, Nelson. I watched as the UEA drove itself to the pinnacle of this business and then watched as it crumbled because it was defined by that one moment. Same with the IWF and every other promotion that's come and gone. I've watched as friends and rivals strived for that one moment in their career. I've watched them achieve it and then become an empty shell... a speck of what they once where and represented. I've saw that and promised myself I wouldn't be someone like that, Nelson. [He points to the camera.] PEGASUS: But you? You're already headed down that path, and this match? This match is that defining moment you're looking for. It's your last chance romance, to put it in bluntly. And knowing this? Knowing this gets my juices going. It gets my adrenaline pumping because I know I can break you either way you look at it. You're through. [He nods.] PEGASUS: You walked into GIW as the biggest and the baddest, Nelson. That was one moment. It lead to you conquering most of what was laid in front of you. And it led to your biggest moment... and you failed. You failed to beat McBaine, and you've been on the down swing ever since. Slowly but surely you've become what you once represented, Nelson. From there? From there you had your biggest advantage tossed back in your face. Someone else just as big, just as strong walked into this promotion and tossed you through a table like you were a two-hundred and fifty pound rag doll. [A shrug.] PEGASUS: So maybe that explains the change in attitude and talking about the reaper sweeping through the hills. Maybe you thought you'd give your hand a try at mindgames, but those are going to be as effective as your great strength is, Nelson. Hour by hour. Minute by minute that moment creeps up on both of us. You're looking for a means for the moment to define you. I plan on defining that moment by putting you out and sealing your path on the road you're traveling right now. I guess we'll find out when the moment's upon both of us, Nelson. It's what we do after the moment. You? [He snorts.] PEGASUS: You'll be like every other great "star" in this business and continue upon that road of decay until you're an empty shell and nothing more than an after thought. And me? [A half-smirk. He shakes his head.] PEGASUS: I'll do what I've done since day one. I'll look for the next moment, whatever his name may be. And I'll enjoy the road which leads me to that very moment. [He nods and continues with the half-smirk. Fade out.] [We fade into a chilling scene...Brawl on the Bayou...the tape of what many claim the best match they've ever seen. Numerous shots fly across the screen...but the picture finally slows to the gruesome sight of DeFay, the former handler of Leviticus Nelson...his eye getting crushed...him screaming in pain...and back to Nelson in the ring, releasing the grip on his neck, losing his chance. The tape stops, that same incredible sight locked in time, as a man emerges from out of the darkness, slowly walking towards the television, his deep voice comes over the room. He's the man on the screen...the man that failed...the man who's life was forever changed by _that_ moment in time...Levitcus Nelson.] Nelson: It's amazing how one second in time can alter a man's path, isn't? How one second frozen in time remains with a man...haunting a man...whispering in his ear at night...when he's alone...all alone... [Nelson slowly wipes his bangs off his forehead, as he shakes his head.] Nelson: He didn't mean any harm...he only had the best of intentions. He only wanted to do what he thought was right. For the path to righteousness is lead by the vision of truth...and honesty. In his heart, he truly believed he was right. He truly believed he was being honest...and he suffered for it... Right before my very eyes... What was I to do? Nothing...my hate frozen in time...my rage mired in confusion and ambiguity. For those sins? I paid the ultimate price...I was beaten...by a man who's mere name brings up visions of all that is wrong. The weeks after...I was lost...I was so filled with hate, so chalk full of rage...I was left to only question one thing... When would it end? [Nelson turns to the camera finally...slowly.] Nelson: The path destroyed Ryan Faith...a child...who met a monster...and paid the ultimate sacrifice. The path cleared through the road blocks of Bobby Taylor...the legend in his own right, yet a joke in reality...and of Johnny Black...a lump of a coward, screaming until you were backed into believing he was a monster. They failed...they all failed... So why did Pegasus feel he was any different? Why did he enter into the cauldron of fire, and expect to not be burned? Was he unique to seeing pain before his own very eyes? Was he naive enough to believe one single man...a single man such as himself...would _slay_ the monster? There's a fine line between confidence...and insanity...between belief...and reality...between heroic ambitions... And dying by the sword... You see Pegasus...you lifted the monster into the air...and you spiked him on his head, for the world to see. You stood over his carcass, and you looked down upon the monster, as if he was destroyed. Pegasus? The monster's still breathing...the monster's gotten back off his back, to his feet...and the monster's no longer filled with blind rage. For his rage has a clear and present target... You. [Nelson plays the tape, to rewind, only to play again...as he shakes his head once more.] Nelson: A simple second in time...that will haunt me for the rest of my life. How could I be _so_ weak? How could I let feelings, pride, compassion...cloud the unadulterated anger inside of me...how? For that mistake...for that single mistake...I vow to every man, woman or child within earshot, this one decree... Everyone will suffer...and everyone will pay for that one second... And it will start with you Pegasus...the fool that found his gold, and spent it in one night...on one second. The giant who felt that through his stature alone, he would see fear in the eyes o the monster... [Nelson slides towards the camera.] Nelson: Look at me Pegasus...no fear...no remorse...no feelings. Your path to the riches and rewards that come with slaying the monster will not be granted...not to you...not to anyone. For the monster will not be slayed...he will only stand tall...and look down upon the innocent...the weak...and the misguided... And he will destroy them all... For one second in time...for the one second the monster learned the cold, bitter truth... That compassion is the thought of a fool... Never..._never_ again... [Nelson shakes his head.] Nelson: The path of destruction will consume one more...and his name will lay amongst the others, all once filled with hopes, and desires... His name will be Pegasus. [Fade with Nelson turning his back to the camera.] DD: These two are ready to kill each other, I love it! JR: Talk about focus.. both of these men are so mentally prepared it's not even funny.. DD: It's downright frightening. JR: I second that. Antonio Hervez.. we give it to you 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.. introducing first.. [Angus Young brings the opening strains of AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long (live)" to life.] AH: Hailing from Memphis, Tennessee and weighing in at 348 pounds! Here is... PEGASUS!!!! [BIG BOOS!!!!!!Pegasus emerges from the entrance portal. His hair tied back into a loose ponytail. His ring attire consists of bi-colored, long tights. The outer and lower portion of his legs are a dark pink. The inner thigh and upper portion of the trunks are a gold color. Across his rear is a dark pink winged-horse. He's also sporting dark pink boots with the back portion of the boot being gold and the colors divided by a black line. Black brace-like elbowpads with the elbow portion being a dark pink. He strides to the ring with confidence and a smirk crosses his face. He climbs the steps to the ring apron and then steps in over the top rope. He looks out to the crowd and strikes a biceps flex.] AH: And his opponent.. ["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 Pegasus.] AH: In the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 397 pounds.. and he hails from Lufkin, Texas.. here is.. LEVITICUS NELSON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [MONSTER POP!!! as Nelson never wavers from glaring down his opponent.] --------------------------------------------- Nightmare in New Orleans: Singles Contest!!! Leviticus Nelson vs. Pegasus Written By: Dan Kauffman --------------------------------------------- [DING!! DING!! DING!!] [The bell sounds, and the two behemoths stride out to the center of the ring, both with dangerous intentions in their eyes. Nelson, his staggering 7-foot-1, 397-pound monster of a frame, almost makes Pegasus, at 6-10 and 348, look small. Almost.] JR: That is a lot of manhood in there ... you wonder how that ring can hold it. And having said that ... I don't think it can, anyway. [The two stand eye to eye, Nelson looking slightly down at Pegasus ... then in an explosion, the two men lock up. They struggle, both looking for a strength edge. Nelson finally shoves Pegasus away ... all of two feet away. Call it a stalemate, as the two men size each other up again. Another lockup, and Nelson manages to get a little lower this time, bulling Pegasus back into the corner. Referee Eli Francois comes in to break it up, and Nelson starts to back away ... only to explode forward, drilling a right back elbow into the side of Pegasus' head. Small pop as Pegs slumps down, and Francois pushes Nelson away.] DD: Already, Nelson has to do something _illegal_ to get this thing in his favor. JR: I would hardly call a back elbow in the corner illegal. [Nelson walks past Francois back into the corner, where he pumps a hard shot into the body, then a second, causing Pegs to half-slump, half-fall in the corner. Nelson then places his boot right on Pegs' neck, using the ropes for leverage. Pegasus flails uselessly, unable to breathe, and Francois rushes in again, counting to four before Nelson breaks the hold. Nelson looks at Francois almost maniacally, appearing on the verge of losing it.] JR: That is a scary, scary look, if you ask me. DD: Whatever. What has he done? An illegal back elbow, a couple punches and an illegal choke. Big deal. JR: Your boy Pegasus is slow to get up. DD: He's just taking his time, waiting for his opportunity. JR: His opportunity to what? Leave? [Nelson pulls Pegasus up in the corner, then grabs his left arm and Irish whips him hard into the opposite corner. The impact in the corner literally moves the ring, drawing an "ooh!" from the fans, and Pegasus bounces out. Nelson's waiting for him ... but it's Pegasus with the where-with-all to wrap his arms around Nelson ...] {________________ THUD! ________________} DD: What do you have to say now, Jake? [... and in an impressive display of strength and technique, lifts the huge Nelson up into a belly-to-belly suplex. Pegasus stays on top for the cover, and an out-of-position Francois races over for the count. ONE! TWO! Nelson kicks out and sits up, his eyes still somewhat glazed over from the huge suplex.] DD: God damnit! If that piece of crap Francois had been in position, it could have been over right there. JR: Right. Like one move from Pegasus is going to end this thing. If that were the case, we would be giving these fans their money back. [Nelson starts regaining his feet as Pegasus seems to hesitate ... then Pegasus walks behind Nelson and sends a stiff right-footed kick into the back of Nelson's left leg. Nelson almost goes down to his knees, but stays up. The second kick from Pegasus drops him to his knees, and Pegasus quickly runs off the ropes in front of Nelson ...] {________________ THUD! ________________} [... before running headlong into a THUNDEROUS lariat from the rising Nelson. POP! Pegasus sits up after crashing to the mat, his eyes crossed, before slumping back to the mat, and Nelson makes his first cover as Francois slides into position ... ONE! TWO! Pegasus kicks out rather easily, and Nelson sits him up before clamping on a chinlock.] JR: Nelson choosing to slow things up early here after turning the tide with that stiff lariat, himself still feeling the effects of that suplex and those kicks to his leg. DD: Slowing things up? He's desperate. Pegasus stunned him with that suplex and he was starting to systematically take out his knee. It's _Nelson_ who's fearing for his life in there right now, trust me. JR: I don't think there's a single thing in this world Leviticus Nelson is afraid of. [Pegasus starts shifting his weight around, slipping his legs underneath and starting to rise. Nelson has to adjust to a side headlock, and as he does, Pegasus gets to his feet while at the same time grabbing hold of Nelson's leg. It takes a couple of tries, but finally Pegasus lifts the bigger man off the ground, and brings his leg crashing down on his own with a kneebreaker. Nelson grimaces and falls to the mat as Pegasus maintains his death grip on his leg. Quickly, Pegasus drops down into a leg scissors, applying pressure on the joint. Nelson slumps back in the hold, gritting his teeth.] DD: See? All Nelson knows how to do is brawl. He can fight, oh sure, he can fight with the best of 'em. But put him in there with someone with size _and_ some wrestling ability, and look what happens. This is a clinic. JR: If you shut up for a second, you'll see Nelson has the ropes. DD: Just a temporary escape. [Francois calls for the break, getting it again at four before admonishing Pegasus for the slow break. ... Is this the first time "admonishing" has been used in an e-wrestling match? ... anyway, Nelson uses the ropes to pull himself up, now favoring the left leg, as Pegasus gets behind him, measures him and dives down, driving his shoulder behind the left knee. Nelson crumples along the ropes, holding on to stay up, as the crowd now solidly jeers Pegasus, who smirks before driving another shoulder into Nelson's knee.] JR: Technically, this is illegal, you know. DD: So? JR: My point _exactly_. DD: What do you ... HEY! [Nelson starts pulling himself up by the ropes again, while Pegasus, pushing aside Francois, starts to measure a third attempt ... and it is here that any wrestling fan remembers that attempting the same move a third consecutive time is a sure recipe for disaster. Sure enough, as Pegasus starts to make his move, Nelson surges up, turns around and, to a HUGE pop, wraps his meaty right hand square around the throat of Pegasus, whose eyes bulge nearly out of his head in shock and surprise ...] JR: CHOKESLAM! CHOKE ... [... and then, complete desperation, as Pegasus kicks at the left leg of Nelson once, then twice, then three, four and five times ... and to a resounding heel pop, it works, as Nelson breaks the choke hold, grimacing in pain at his injured left knee.] DD: See?! SEE?! Pegasus has done _exactly_ what he had to do. He's taken away the leg from Nelson, and in turn, it has taken some of Nelson's offense away from ... uh ... oh s[BLEEP]! {________________ THUD! ________________} Crowd: Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!!! JR: A THUNDEROUS CHOKESLAM! Nelson would not be denied! DD: How in the hell is he _standing_? JR: He's not ... he's _covering_! ONE! TWO! JR: THREE! THREE?! ... Francois is saying Pegasus rolled his shoulder up, and I'm telling you, that was three! DD: Relax, Jake. It was only two. JR: I find it unbelievably hypocritical of you telling me to relax. [Nelson wastes no time pulling the dazed and confused Pegasus up to his feet. He spins him around into the corner and starts hammering him with overhand rights, one after the other, as the crowd starts getting behind Nelson. The punches turn into an outright stranglehold, as Nelson's eyes roll back in his head and his arms strain to apply more pressure on the choke, as Francois races in and calls for the break. At four, Francois has to try to pry Nelson off Pegasus, using all his weight, before Nelson finally gives in. Nelson, possessed, backs Francois away with nothing more than a hateful stare as Pegasus slumps down in the corner.] JR: That's the second time in this match Nelson has looked ready to completely lose it. You wonder if it's just a matter of time before he snaps. DD: I'm wondering how long it will be before he gets snapped in half. [Nelson, as earlier in the match, starts to whip Pegasus across to the other corner ... but this time, he holds on, turning Pegasus around with momentum and whipping him incredibly hard into the corner he was just in. The impact once again shifts the ring a couple of inches as the crowd gasps, and shifts further still when Nelson runs in with a stiff lariat that snaps Pegasus' head back. With nowhere to go, Pegasus slumps down again.] JR: The power possessed by Nelson is nothing short of breathtaking. DD: The stupidity is nothing short of overwhelming. [Nelson slides out of the ring and walks to the post, where he reaches into the ring, grabbing hold of Pegasus' legs and pulling toward him. Pegasus falls flat on his stomach, and Nelson, still holding Pegasus' legs, allows himself a bemused and somewhat scary grin ...] DD: Please tell me he's not going to do this. [... sorry, Dirk.] P: OOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! Crowd: Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhh!!! DD: I'm gonna be sick. JR: What's there to be sick about? That was merely your run-of-the-mill fraternity hazing trick involving a pair of legs spread open, a tree and a couple frat brothers to ram your balls into said tree. Slightly modified, of course. One frat brother, rather tall and huge and, well, just plain scary, and a ring post instead of a tree. DD: We get the picture. [Nelson pulls Pegasus out of the ring, and he lands with a thud on the wooden floor of the Cardinal Gym's basketball court.] JR: This is the last place Pegasus wants to be. Outside the ring. Right where Nelson wants him. [Nelson pulls Pegasus to his feet, then in a surreal display of strength, presses all 347 pounds of him up over his head as the crowd pops!] JR: Jesus, what strength! [Nelson holds him up there for a couple of seconds, before positioning him over the steel railing. Nelson lets Pegasus drop throat-first across the railing, and Pegasus' head snaps back at impact as he falls to the wooden floor, clutching at his throat.] JR: Nelson starting to have his way out there, and is it just me, or does it look like he's enjoying himself? DD: Of course the sick bastard is enjoying himself! [Nelson, that evil smirk still present on his face, walks around looking for something. He finds what he's looking for in the ring bell, snatching it from the timekeeper's table as the crowd starts to rise in anticipation. Nelson walks back toward Pegasus, who, using the railing to pull himself up, is bent over facing the other way. Nelson lets him turn around on his own, then raises the bell and starts to swing it down, aiming for the head, when Pegasus lashes out a huge right boot, catching Nelson in the gut. Nelson doubles over, dropping the bell, and Pegasus is all too quick to grab it ...] {__________________ CLANG-THUD! ___________________} Crowd: Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohh! JR: Oh! A HUGE bell shot to the back, and Nelson's been dropped to his knees! {__________________ CLANG-THUD! ___________________} Crowd: Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhh! JR: And again! And now Pegasus walking around ... {__________________ CLANG-THUD! ___________________} Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! DD: Sweet Jesus! JR: PEGASUS TOOK A FULL SWING AND CRACKED NELSON RIGHT IN THE FOREHEAD WITH THE RING BELL! ... And I believe Nelson is busted wide open! [Nelson, by sheer force of will, rises to his feet, but is truly out on his feet as he wobbles around, blood now streaming from a gaping wound on his forehead.] DD: Ugh. That is an ugly wound. JR: Pegasus ... he's walking away from Nelson ... and now comes charging ... my God! {__________________ CLANG-THUD! ___________________} Crowd: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! JR: A RUNNING, FLYING BELL SHOT TO THE HEAD, AND NELSON IS FLAT ON HIS BACK, A BLOODY MESS! DD: Well I'll be ... Pegasus is beating Nelson at his own f'ing game ... beating the s[BLEEP] out of him. [Pegasus disposes of the ring bell, the back of which is covered in Nelson's blood. Pegasus instead walks over to the ring steps, pulling them away from the ring post and dragging them toward Nelson.] JR: Now what is this?! You'd think Pegasus would just roll Nelson into the ring and cover him, for crying out loud. DD: Oh, no. This is about proving to Nelson and everyone else that Pegasus can beat him in any fashion. Nelson was the one who took this match to the outside. If he wants to fight that way, so be it. And now, he's paying the price. [Pegasus drags a limp Nelson over, before letting go. Nelson's upper body falls forward onto the steps. Pegasus positions Nelson's head flush with the top step, and then walks away for a moment, just long enough to grab a steel chair. HEEL POP!] JR: This is going too far! I know these two men want to fight, but this could kill somebody! Where the hell is the referee, for crying out loud! DD: You remember that song, "Pop Goes the Weasel?" {_________ CCCCRRRRRAAAACCCCCCCKKKKKK! __________} Crowd: OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! JR: THAT'S ENOUGH, DAMN IT! DD: Ewww ... I'm feeling queasy. [Nelson, having just had his head sandwiched between the steps and a vile, downward-swinging chair shot by Pegasus, slumps off the steps and lies motionless on the floor. Pegasus turns toward the crowd, smirking, raising his arms as the fans greet him with a lusty heel pop.] JR: Somebody needs to check on Nelson. That was an absolutely appalling chair shot, and his head had nowhere to go. He could have a concussion. DD: Help! Help! I've been concussed! JR: You wouldn't be joking if you'd ever had one. DD: I wouldn't remember it anyway. [Turning back to his work, Pegasus drags the bloody Nelson back up to his feet, holding him by the back of the head. He then runs him into and over the security railing, as Nelson falls awkwardly over and back onto the wooden floor. Pegasus climbs over the railing, drills Nelson in the back with a clubbing forearm and starts half-dragging, half-walking him toward the gymnasium's stage. The handful of spectators over in the area pull close to get a closer look.] JR: The blood continues to pour out of Nelson's head, as Pegasus has taken full control of the match in rather surprising fashion. DD: It's only surprising to everyone else, Jake ... I knew it all along. [Once at the stage, Pegasus rams Nelson's head into the edge of it, and Nelson falls back to the wooden floor again. Satisfied, Pegasus walks toward the left, past several spectators, and grabs a table right out from two other spectators, carrying it back toward Nelson. The crowd starts to buzz and rise in anticipation.] JR: Pegasus is setting that table up just in front of the stage ... you don't think he'd ... no, no, he wouldn't ... [The table set up, Pegasus helps Nelson to his feet and sends him rolling onto the stage much the same way he would send him back into the ring. Pegasus then climbs up onstage himself while Nelson rises. Pegasus greets him with a hard right ... and for the first time since those hellish bell shots, Nelson answers back with a right hand of his own, drawing a pop from the fans. Pegasus hits another right ... another right from Nelson! Pegasus ... Nelson! ... Pegasus ... Nelson, and Pegasus wobbles! HUGE POP ... that turns into a HEEL POP when Pegasus kicks Nelson low. As in, LOW. Nelson goes cross eyed and crumples to the stage.] DD: That's it, Pegs! Hit 'im high, and hit 'em low! JR: The only thing you know how to hit is a bong. DD: Uh-huh. And your point? [Pegasus hauls Nelson back up and moves into position on the stage directly in front of and above the table below. Pegasus then hooks Nelson in a front headlock and places Nelson's arm over his head as the crowd starts to stand.] JR: No way. Absolutely no way. If Pegasus suplexes Nelson off the stage and through that table ... DD: I might need a cigarette after this. [After a moment, Pegasus bends his knees and tries to lift the huge Nelson. He gets him up all of about a foot, but not further. POP! A second try, amazingly, gets Nelson up almost halfway ... but Pegasus can't get him past vertical, and Nelson lands on his feet. Then the crowd starts to stir as Nelson starts fighting back with a right hand to the midsection ... another one ... and another one breaks the headlock. Then Nelson, digging deep, his face the proverbial crimson mask, lands a haymaker right to Pegasus' forehead, causing Pegs to lean back slightly off-balance at the edge of the stage, the table waiting below. Pegasus regains his balance just in time for Nelson to land another haymaker, and as the crowd cheers, Pegasus leans back ... and stays there for an eternity, right on the edge.] JR: One more, Leviticus! DD: No, no, no, NO! [Pegasus flails his arms forward trying to regain his balance, and finally gets it ... just in time to see Nelson charging with a lariat that spells doom ... For both of them.] {__________ CCRRRRRRRAAAAACCCCCCKKKKK - THUD! ___________} Crowd: 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: Pegasus is down! Nelson is down! The table is destroyed! There is carnage everywhere! DD: That fool! Nelson was so desperate, he put himself through the table while putting Pegasus through it! JR: Yeah, but he did what he had to. And now it's nothing more than a gutcheck ... who wants this damn thing more. [Slowly, both men begin to pull themselves up from the ruins. Pegasus is a little quicker, though there's nothing quick about it, and once he's to his feet, he half-stumbles back toward the ring. Nelson stays on one knee, wiping the blood from his forehead, before getting up and following Pegasus back toward the ring. Pegasus waits for him in front of the railing, and the two start trading tired blows, neither of them having much to give. Nelson finally shoves Pegasus back- first into the railing, which gives a little ... and another Nelson lariat sends Pegasus over the railing onto the ringside floor.] JR: Both men showing the wear and tear of this one, although you would think Nelson would be the worse of the two with all the bell shots he took. But that fall through the table seems to have taken a huge toll on Pegasus as well. [Nelson, towering over the fans, steps over the railing. He pulls Pegasus up and rolls him back into the ring, following him in. Pegasus tries to get up, and Nelson pulls him up the rest of the way before whipping him into the ropes. Another lariat attempt is ducked by Pegasus, who comes off the other side and as Nelson turns around ...] {__________________ CRACK! __________________} Crowd: Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh! JR: YAKUZA KICK! Out of nowhere! DD: Cover him! [Still hurting, Pegasus hesitates before dropping on top ...] ONE! TWO! DD: YES! JR: NO! Nelson kicked out! [Pegasus looks at the referee in disbelief, then in frustration, throws Nelson's shoulders to the mat again ...] ONE! TWO! JR: Another kickout! DD: Damnit, damnit, damnit! Pegasus had him! He had him! JR: He _almost_ had him, but Nelson won't stay down! [Pegasus drags Nelson up this time, and a stinging chop draws an "oooh!" from the crowd and backs Nelson up. A second chop backs Nelson into the ropes, and Pegasus sends him for the ride ... but Nelson explodes off the ropes with a diving shoulder tackle, catching Pegasus by surprise and driving him into the mat! HUGE POP!] JR: He caught him! And now Nelson needs to make the cover! DD: Not this way! Please not this way! [Nelson crawls back toward Pegasus, finally covering.] ONE! TWO! JR: Pegasus kicked out! He _just_ kicked out! DD: That was too freaking close! [Now it's Nelson who confronts the referee, lobbying for a three and backing Francois into the corner in anger. He goes so far as to cock a fist.] JR: Leviticus doesn't agree with the count, but he's got to be careful here! This is not the time to risk a qualification! DD: Let him have it! Get DQed! [While Nelson's "talking" to the ref, Pegasus is getting to his feet. When Nelson finally turns around, Pegasus lashes out a boot to the midsection, doubling Nelson over. That is all Pegasus needs to drill Nelson with a DDT! HEEL POP!] DD: Another idiotic move by Nelson, allowing himself to get distracted! JR: I got to agree wi-COVER! ONE! TWO! JR: Nelson gets a shoulder up! [And Pegasus isn't happy about it, as he straddles Nelson and starts sending blow after blow after blow down on Nelson's bloody head as the heel pop picks up steam.] DD: Pegasus is frustrated now, but he's not wasting his time with the ref, is he? No. He's taking it out on Nelson. [But not for long. To a HUGE FACE POP!, Nelson rolls through, switching the roles and, with a burst of energy, pummels the flailing Pegasus relentlessly!] JR: Nelson with a burst of energy, and he's all over Pegasus! [Nelson stands and drags Pegasus up with him, before lifting him off his feet and dropping him HARD into the mat with a sidewalk slam! POP! Francois slides into position ...] ONE! TWO! DD: NO, NO, NO! He kicked out! Pegasus kicked out! JR: We've had several near-falls in the last two minutes, and Nelson is finding a second wind! Could it be he was playing possum, that he wasn't as hurt as he made it seem? DD: Look at his head, Jake. It's hard to fake that. [Nelson pulls Pegasus back up, gives him a couple hard shots to the head, then fires him back into the ropes before ducking down, looking for a back body drop. But it never happens, as Pegasus stops short and, in one fluid motion, has Nelson in position.] JR: Uh-oh! What is ... HE GOT HIM UP! DD: He's gonna piledrive Nelson! He's gonna ... he's holding him up?! What in the ... [Holding Nelson up for the piledriver, Pegasus has the strength, even at this stage, to spin around, showboating to the crowd, which resonds with a lusty HEEL POP! With a smirk, a grunt and a final effort, Pegasus leaps up slightly and DRIVES Nelson's head into the mat with the piledriver.] DD: GAME OVER! That _has_ to be it! JR: But Pegasus wore himself out holding the monster up for that long! That's 397 pounds he held in the air for close to 30 seconds, and took a toll! Nelson is down, he may be out, but Pegasus is down as well! DD: Jesus Christ ... all he has to do is cover! [And finally, Pegasus starts to move toward Nelson, finally draping an arm across.] ONE! TWO! THREE?!?!?!?!? DD: HE got it! He got ... WHAT?! JR: FRANCOIS SAYS IT'S A TWO-COUNT! [INCREDIBLE FACE POP!] DD: That blind, old, stinking son of a bitch! That was three! JR: It's a _two_! This match continues! [The look of disbelief on Pegasus' face quickly turns into anger, and to a MASSIVE heel pop, locks in the dreaded Spinecrusher camel clutch, bending Nelson's back and neck back at an extreme angle!] JR: THE SPINECRUSHER! PEGASUS WANTS TO END IT RIGHT HERE! DD: There's nowhere to run, no way to hide, and no blind referee to help Leviticus now. There's only two words that will help him at all ... I quit. [Pegasus leans back, and the grimace on Nelson's face tells the story. The crowd, sensing an end, starts to rally behind Nelson, cheering him on. Pegasus smirks again and applies more pressure, wanting to end the match. But there's no quit in Nelson, who refuses to give in. Pegasus puts everything he's got into the hold. Still, Nelson isn't tapping, and isn't going to ... and Pegasus can sense it, finally letting go of the hold. Nelson lies almost motionless, in obvious pain, his blood now staining the mat under his head.] JR: The Spinecrusher may not have ended the match, but it may have taken the last ounce of energy out of Nelson. DD: Finish the deal, Pegasus ... finish the damn deal. [And, as if on cue, Pegasus slides out of the ring and starts looking under it, before pulling out ...] JR: He's pulling out a table from under the ring! [HUGE HEEL POP!] DD: How sweet. [Pegasus slides the table into the ring and slides back in himself as Nelson starts to rise. Seeing this, Pegasus leaves the table lying and lifts Nelson to his feet, throwing him back-first into the corner before pummeling him with more right hands. Pegasus attempts to whip Nelson to the corner, but Nelson reverses Pegasus ...] {________________ THUD! ________________} [... straight into a short-arm spinebuster that rocks the ring and causes the crowd to explode! Nelson, exhausted from the effort, stands all too briefly before falling backward himself.] JR: A scintillating spinebuster, but Nelson's too beat up to make the cover! Pegasus is flat on his back, and Nelson is as well! What a war! [Nelson, fighting the exhaustion, gets to his feet in shaky fashion, and then spots the table. Quickly, he reaches down to prop the legs up, and then stands it up just to the right of the center of the ring as the crowd buzzes. The table set up, Nelson turns his attention, to Pegasus, who is just starting to stir, dragging him to his feet, Nelson whips Pegasus to the ropes just past the table, and on the rebound ...] P: AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ... [... wraps a meaty right hand around Pegasus' throat. MOTHER OF ALL FACE POPS!] JR: HE'S GONNA CHOKESLAM PEGASUS THROUGH THE TABLE! DD: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! [Nelson looks right into Pegasus' eyes with his old cold, dark, almost evil stare as the crowd continues to erupt. He braces to lift Pegasus in the air ...] LN: AUUUUUUUUGHHhhhhhhhhhooooooo ... Crowd: Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhh!!! JR: ANOTHER LOW BLOW! [HUGE HEEL POP!] DD: Finish him! Finish the motherf- JR: DIRK! [Finally out of the clutches of Nelson's right hand, Pegasus places Nelson's head between his legs for the second time today, and in a burst of strength, lifts him up and over his head as the crowd gasps.] DD: POWERBOMB! POWERB- {_____________________ THUD! _______________________} Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! DD: GOOD GOD, WHAT A POWERBOMB! JR: LEVITICUS NELSON CAME WITHIN _INCHES_ OF GOING THROUGH THE TABLE, BUT HE GOT BROKEN IN HALF BY THE DAMNDEST POWERBOMB YOU'LL EVER SEE!! DD: Cover! Cover! ... God damnit, MAKE THE COVER! [But in this late stage of the match, beaten up from nearly 20 minutes of action, Pegasus is going nowhere fast, collapsing from the effort it took to lift a near-400 pounder over his head. Both men lay still for some time, the crowd cheering for Nelson, trying to inspire him to continue. Finally, it's Pegasus who starts to stir.] DD: YES! YES! GO COVER HIM! [Slowly, Pegasus crawls across to Nelson, who still doesn't move. Pegasus is three feet away ... then two ... then with one last surge, he drapes his body over top.] ONE! TWO! DD: THREE! THREE! THREE! [But despite Dirk's wishes, referee Eli Francois rises from the mat and holds up just _two_ fingers. INCREDIBLE POP!] JR: IT'S A TWO! IT'S A TWO! GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY, IT'S ONLY A TWO! HOW NELSON GOT HIS SHOULDER UP, I'LL NEVER KNOW! DD: It was three! It _had_ to be three! How ... how ... this match should be _over_! JR: It should be! It really should be! But no matter how much you may disbelieve, Dirk ... IT'S NOT OVER! [Slowly, Pegasus pulls himself up, still in shock from what he believed would be the end of the match. He walks over to the table and drags it into position, then slowly drags Nelson up, this time placing his head between his legs in direct line with the table. HEEL POP!] DD: Please, God ... please let him hit this. JR: Pegasus is going for it all _again_, and if he hits it again, this match _will_ be over! [With one last burst of effort, Pegasus lifts Nelson in the air up onto his shoulders ... where Nelson does the utterly unthinkable ...] P: AAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! [... He wraps his right hand around Pegasus' throat!] DD: NO F[BLEEP]ING WAY! [INCREDIBLE POP!] JR: NELSON IS UP ON PEGASUS' SHOULDERS, JUST ONE FALL FROM PLUNGING THROUGH THE TABLE, BUT HE'S GOT PEGASUS BY THE NECK! HE'S HOLDING ON FOR DEAR LIFE! [In more desperation, Nelson uses his left hand to punch Pegasus' head repeatedly, over and over, as the pop grows louder and louder, echoing through the gymnasium!] DD: JUST DROP HIM THROUGH THE TABLE, PEGASUS! THAT'S ALL YOU HAVE TO DO! [But with one final flurry of left hands, and Nelson's right hand still wrapped around his throat, Pegasus can't finish the powerbomb. Nelson gets off of Pegasus' shoulders, falling somewhat awkwardly to the mat, but keeping the chokehold on, so when he regains his feet, all it takes is one last effort to lift Pegasus off the ground, twist ... ... and bring every single fan in the Cardinal High School gymnasium to their feet in awe!] {___________ CCCRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAACCCKKKKK! ____________} [HIDE THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN BECAUSE THAT IS A FACE POP!] JR: CHOKESLAM THROUGH THE TABLE! DD: WHY?! HOW?! ... Awwwwwwwwwww, NOOOOOO!! [Nelson collapses to the mat himself, but it's Pegasus who is motionless among the debris of the table. Nelson, on hands and knees, crawls over to the wreckage, draping his body on top of Pegasus.] ONE! TWO! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JR: IT'S OVER! IT'S OVER! LEVITICUS NELSON HAS WON! DD: Pegasus had him! He had him ... DAMNIT! AH: The winner of the match ... LEVITICUS NELSON!!!!!!!!! [HUGE FACE POP as the bloody Nelson slowly gets to his feet. Francois raises his hand in victory.] JR: What a war! What a goddamn war! DD: RIp-off! Cheat! Bastard! JR: Pegasus gave it his all but Nelson was simply too much in the end.. his resiliency was the key, Dirk. DD: Gah! I gotta admit, Nelson showed a lot of guts tonight, but Pegs had him, man, Pegs is a stud in the making. JR: Cannot disagree there, what a breakout night for that big man despite the loss. [Cut to Nelson exiting to a pop!] JR: And now we move along to our big falls count anywhere street fight.. between two men fighting over, well, one man's family? DD: That's about right Jake, Lucas McCall is trying to pry the wifebeater away from abuse but it's fans like you that are keeping him down. JR: Riiiiiiiiight. Let's hear what Robert Kellan, the good-hearted the family man, had to say about tonight's huge match. [In.] [A newspaper fills your view, telling of stories from around the area, country and world. As usual none are too happy, the human stories left to the middle portions of the news, hidden among a throng of tragedies and sadness and war. Strong hands grip said newspaper, the voice quietly ushering forth no doubt that of the hands owner... Robert Kellan.] RK: Drunk driver kills four. Man kills four in cold blood. Serial rapist still on the run. [He pauses.] RK: Funny how the monsters _not_ under your bed or hiding in your closet or in your nightmares aren't the scariest types. [Kellan folds the paper, setting it beside him on the bench. He is not in his wrestling gear but rather faded jeans and heavy boots, hands heavily taped, a sleeveless GIW T-shirt worn over top, a New Orleans Saints baseball cap over his short brown hair. His visage is one of utter seriousness. his mind fully on the task at hand. The large man leans forward, resting his thick forearms upon even thicker thighs.] RK: The really bad monsters seem to be a lot more real then we all wish they were. They're in the news...the paper...on TV....[pause].... here in Grand Isle. [He takes a deep breath, continuing.] RK: Unlike the stories you heard as a child, the monsters aren't always stopped by heroes or slain by a knight. Instead they get free reign, terrorizing everyone, doing what they please until someone decides to step up and do something about it. Lucas McCall...I didn't just decide to up and stop you. You made me do this. You made me put on my armor, strap my sword at my side and ride into battle. [He sneers at the mere mention of McCall.] RK: Monster....hmph.... you only wish you were that bad Lucas. A monster is something deserving of our fear, you...you're deserving of nothing but pity. People like you who go so low as to play mind games with innocent women and children, low lives like you who force yourselves on other's wives...You aren't scary, you're pitiful. But don't think for a minute this knight won't shove his sword right through your heart. [He stands up to his full height, his massive frame filling the background. He stretches his neck, rolling his shoulders as he prepares to leave and do what he must.] RK: Street Fight...Last Man Standing...Louisiana Death Match...whatever you wanna call it is next and me...you...we're gonna bleed, we're gonna sweat, we're gonna hurt. It's going to be hell but it's all going to be worth it Lucas. I'm going to give the people a reason to pity you even more. I'm a family man. I will die proving it and sometimes...sometimes a family man needs to do something he won't be exactly proud of. [He chuckles lightly.] RK: You wanna be a monster, Lucas? Well pal, I ain't afraid of you and I got myself one damn big sword. [Out.] DD: Let's get this street fight on already! JR: We shall.. Antonio, take it away! [Cut to Hervez.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest is a FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE STREET FIGHT [POP!].. scheduled for one fall.. with a thirty meenute time leemit... introducing first.. [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.] DD: This punk thinks he can survive in a street fight against a street fighter? You've got to be kidding me. JR: Robert Kellan has surprised us before. He's went toe to toe with McBaine, he and Mashima went through the entire tag tournament, beating all comers. I think we might be surprised one more time #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. Unlike normal Kellan doesn't wear wrestling gear, instead attired in jeans and a sleeveless GIW t- shirt, hands taped up, feet clad in heavy boots.] #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, warming up and stretching in his corner.] [BIG POP!! With a smile he hops onto the apron, turning towards the crowd before sliding in through the ropes and making his way to the corner, hopping up and raising his fists to yet another cheer. The wildly popular Kellan hops down, turning to await the opening of the match.] AH: And his opponent.. ['Protect Ya' Neck' by the Wu-Tang Clan plays over the Gee Eye Dub sound system, out from the back walks Lucas McCall, he walks gingerly to the ring, cursing at the fans as he does, plastered across his face is both a drunken daze and a shit-eating grin, nothing fancy 'bout this guy.] AH: Coming to the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 237 pounds and he hails from Boston, Massachusetts.. here is.. LUCAS McCALL!!!!!!!! [Monster boos for the drunkard as the bell sounds and Kellan slides out of the ring!] -------------------------------------------------- Nightmare in New Orleans: Falls Count Anywhere!!! Lucas McCall vs. Robert Kellan Written By: Andy Doran -------------------------------------------------- [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: KELLAN MEETS MCCALL IN THE AISLE! BOTH MEN TRADING FISTS IN FRONT OF THE RING, THEY DIDN'T EVEN MAKE IT TO THE SQUARED CIRCLE! KELLAN, MCCALL, KELLAN, MCCALL!! DD: Wifebeater blocks a right, counters with the elbow... "CLAAACK!" JR: Headfirst to the railing goes Lucas McCall! Kellan doesn't let go...McCall takes a header to the other railing! DD: Smokey's already on the job! Way to go Smoke! JR: Robert Kellan is kicking McCall in the ribs, barrel rolling him to the ringside area. He's got McCall by the hair again...HEADFIRST TO THE RING STEPS! [The Nawlin's crowd is absolutely rabid as Kellan throws McCall into the apron and Lucas bounces off into the arms of Robert, who lifts and drops Lucas into a hotshot on the railing! The Texan shovels McCall into the ring and heads toward the ringsteps, bending over and hoisting them over his head as Lucas McCall regains his bearings in the ring... "CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!"] JR: Baseball slide dropkick by McCall, and he kicked those ringsteps into the face of Robert Kellan! Kellan is buried under the ringsteps! DD: The crowd is about to get their money's worth Jakey, Lucas is grabbing one of their objects... [POP!] JR: Lucas McCall has an enlarged version of the Elvis Presley commemorative stamp, in a glass frame!! DD: Return to sender! "CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" DD: Address unknown! JR: HE SHATTERED THE FRAME OVER KELLAN'S HEAD! ROBERT KELLAN IS WEARING AN ELVIS STAMP! DD: We got blood Jake! Kellan's bleeding like his old lady after me and McCall double teamed her! JR: I hope Kellan kicks your ass next. DD: I'll beat his ass! [The brash Masshole clotheslines Kellan and Robert flips over the guardrail and lands concrete first, with a thud. Lucas follows him as the picture gets a little shakier...damn Smokey. Lucas sticks his hand out and it's soon filled with Mardi Gras beads. He looks at them for a second and shrugs... "WHAAAACK!" "WHAAAACK!" "WHAAAACK!" "WHAAAACK!" ...before going to town on the face of Kellan with them! HEEL POP! McCall knocks Robert to the ground and straddles the Texan, applying a makeshift camel clutch with the beads, while he turns around and laughs at an approaching Lydia Kellan.] DD: McCall's the man! I got fifty on him Jake, he's gonna win this fight! JR: McCall releases the camel clutch--he's walking towards Lydia! He throws the beads at her-- DD: TITTIES! WE WANT TITTIES! JR: Calm down man! [HUGE POP!] JR: KELLAN WITH A DOUBLE AXEHANDLE TO THE BACK! HE CAUGHT UP TO THAT DAMNED LUCAS MCCALL AND HE POWERS HIM OVER THE RAILING! DD: What a friggin' tightass. JR: Kellan stomps the hell out of McCall and now it's Robert who reaches into the crowd-- DD: COFFEE POT! KELLAN'S GOT A COFFEE POT! "SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSHHH!!" [HUGE POP!] JR: KELLAN SHATTERS THE COFFEE POT OVER MCCALL'S HEAD! NOW EVERYONE'S BUSTED OPEN! DD: That was sick Jake, Kellan's a mad man! JR: After all Lucas McCall did to sabotage his marriage, I'd say it's warranted! [Kellan heads back to the crowd and reaches his hand back, not looking at what the crowd will give him as McCall slides into the ring. The Texan gets the item and looks at it, laughing as he holds it up for everyone to see.] DD: Slippery When Wet! Booyah! JR: One of our insane fans just gave Robert Kellan a vinyl Bon Jovi album! This is nuts! "WHAAAACK!" "WHAAAACK!" "WHAAAACK!" [Another big pop!] JR: Three times over the head of Lucas McCall!! Holy jumpin' frickin' Jesus! DD: Son of a bitchin' Kellan broke the goddamn album! JR: Right in two! It cracked right down the center--AND NOW KELLAN STABS MCCALL WITH THE EDGE OF THE RECORD! ROBERT KELLAN HAS ABSOLUTELY LOST IT! HE'S STABBING MCCALL RIGHT IN THE FOREHEAD! DD: COME ON LUCAS! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING! [The fans are going apeshit to East Jesus while Kellan carves McCall's now gushing forehead like a turkey. The Texan makes a slight motion to his wife as he digs in deeper and Lydia disappears out of the picture, but a moment later enters back to a huge roar. Reason...?] JR: SOMEONE GAVE LYDIA KELLAN A TWO MAN KAYAK! LYDIA KELLAN IS GIVING HER HUSBAND A KAYAK TO HIT LUCAS MCCALL WITH! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! DD: Even I gotta say this is great Jake! [Kellan laughs aloud as he takes the kayak, puts it in position....and suplexes the kayak onto McCall! HUGE POP!] JR: Unbelievable! Un-friggin'-believable fans! Only in GIW will you see this kind of anarchy! DD: What a pussy! He suplexed the goddamn kayak when he could have done so much more. That's why he's a loser. JR: Perhaps this is more to your liking... "CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!" [BIGASS POP!] JR: POWERBOMB ON THE KAYAK! COVER! ONE!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KICKOUT!!!! [Heel pop!] DD: This one is far from over Jake. Far, far from over.\ JR: I think you're right, Dirk. DD: 'Course I am. [Not wasting a moment, Kellan nods to his wife who quickly produces a cowbell from the crowd! Lydia slides it into Robert, who turns around to pick the potential weapon up as McCall comes to his senses... "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" HUGE HEEL POP!] DD: A right hand to Lil' Robby and the twins does the trick! Hehehehe. JR: Kellan dropped the cowbell and Lucas has it... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" JR: Shot to the head but Kellan won't fall! "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" DD: Two's the trick! Kellan's head is redder than his wife's pu-- JR: Gah! Shutup man, will you? DD: Dirk Davidson fears no corporate FCC schmucks! Let freedom ring, I'll say what I goddamn well please! JR: McCall brings Kellan to his feet with a front facelock...DDT! Kellan got spiked on his head! [Now it's Lucas McCall's turn to hit up the crowd for a weapon and they don't disappoint, throwing a whole hard salami to McCall. Lucas does a double take at what the mutants just threw to him and shrugs, turning to a kneeling Kellan and belting him square in the face with the HARD SALAMI SHOT OF SEVERE DISCOMFORT!] DD: YES! YES! THIS IS THE GREATEST DAY IN MY LIFE SINCE I NAILED THE PROM QUEEN IN HER PARENTS' OWN BED! Lucas McCall is my Jesus! JR: I thought that was like...two weeks ago. You pederast. DD: Call the match Jake. JR: Right. [...] JR: LUCAS MCCALL IS BEATING THE CRAP OUT OF ROBERT KELLAN WITH A GODDAMN HARD SALAMI! DD: Funny, I thought it was Lydia who was all about McCall's salami. JR: Ugh. [One more salami shot does the trick and McCall turns to Mrs. Kellan, threading the salami betwixt his lower appendages and then doing the time honored "hump the ropes" move, with the cold cut...for emphasis.] DD: AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! JR: That's disgusting! Lucas McCall is disgusting! DD: No, Lucas McCall is the man. JR: Whatever he is, McCall throws Kellan out of the ring and lays in the right hands. Now McCall begins to hit heavy boots to the head of Kellan, casually putting him into a vertical headscissors! He lifts...NO!! "CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!" JR: BACKDROP INTO THE AUDIENCE! DD: GET TO WORK SMOKEY! JR: Kellan slams the neck of McCall into the steel railing... DD: STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL~! JR: ...and hops over the railing himself. [Grabbing the Bostonian by the hair, Kellan takes two steps for speed and hurls McCall into a row ov now vacated chairs, knocking most of them over. Robert takes a chair that didn't fall and folds it up, turning his attention to Lucas... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" ...and knocking him into 1973 with two horrific chairshots!] DD: Goddamnit Kellan! What kind of white bread pussy boy scout are you?!!? JR: Lucas McCall is seeing stars! Robert Kellan has got to be the chairman of GIW after those two brutal shots! Kellan drags McCall up, but McCall's got something in his hand-- "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" DD: Crowbar! Crowbar to the leg of Bitchface Kellan! JR: I don't know where the hell McCall got a crowbar but he just stopped Kellan dead in his tracks with that thing! DD: The fans dummy! Our fans came equipped tonight! JR: McCall brings Kellan up, tries for a back suplex by Robert elbows out! Standing switch in row 3, into a rear waistlock... "CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANK!" [HUGE POP!] JR: JESUS CHRIST! GERMAN SUPLEX _INTO THE RAILING_! MCCALL HIT NECKFIRST, HE COULD BE CRIPPLED!! COVER! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! T-KICKOUT!! JR: Amazingly McCall kicks out! DD: He's a tough little bastard, I'll tell ya. JR: Somehow he's back on his feet and Kellan is going after him. Boot to the ribs and a _big_ right hand to the jaw sends Lucas stumbling to the back of the gym! Another right hits McCall in the ear, Kellan's got him by the arm...whip to the door! [McCall hits backfirst, sliding down to a seated position in front of two big grey doors. Seeing this Kellan charges at his nemesis, sticking out his right leg for a Mafia kick but Lucas dives out of the way, causing Robert to slam open the doors and get his leg caught on the silver handle bars that normally open the door.] JR: Kellan's hung out to dry...KICK TO THE NUTS BY MCCALL!! ANOTHER! DD: Five to one says Kellan won't be getting any tonight, not after that. JR: Robert Kellan's free from that door handle but McCall--THROWS HIM DOWN THE STAIRS! ROBERT KELLAN GOT THROWN DOWN EIGHT OR NINE CONCRETE STAIRS AND LANDED HEADFIRST ON THE SIDEWALK! DD: Kickass! Drop him right on his empty head! JR: McCall with a nasty boot to the back of Kellan, make it two, and he slowly pulls up the bloodied Kellan...left jab to the face! Now a right hand sends Kellan stumbling back. [It should be noted that the two men are now near the street, with Kellan one step away from the curb.] JR: McCall's got the head of Robert Kellan...right into a mailbox! What a sound that made! Robert's staggering back, but he suddenly charges at McCall..... "CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANK!" JR: HIPTOSS INTO THE MAILBOX! KELLAN WENT BACKFIRST! DD: He might need to see a chiropractor after that bad boy. JR: McCall kicks him into the street, and flattens him with a clothesline! McCall scoops Kellan back up, body slam! He follows it up with a legdrop right across the throat of Kellan! DD: Razor! JR: Into a vertical headscissors...oh no! "THUUUUUDDD!!" JR: PILEDRIVER! RIGHT ON THE YELLOW DIVIDING LINE IN THE STREET! DAMN IT, DAMN LUCAS MCCALL! HE COULD KILL HIM! DD: Didn't Kellan just suplex McCall neckfirst into a guardrail? JR: Cover! ONE!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! TH-KICKOUT!! [POP!] JR: Kellan kicks out again, but these two are killing each other! I don't know how much longer they can last at this pace! DD: Shutup Jake! Lucas has Kellan, trying for another piledriver...but Kellan won't move! Goddamnit! JR: Kellan's too beaten up to move, so McCall steps back--OH! SOCCER KICK RIGHT TO THE CHIN! HOW VICIOUS! DD: And look at bitchboy, he's spitting up blood! [That he is, literal gobs of the righteous red as McCall watches, laughing. Lucas brings Kellan to a wobbly standing position, then lays into him with stiff right hands, knocking Kellan further across the street until he's up on the sidewalk opposite the high school. McCall uses a knee lift and then an uppercut to send Robert flying, knocking him into the stoop of two wooden double doors, one of which has a neon Miller Lite sign on it.] DD: Ha! McCall's taking Kellan barhopping! JR: Robert Kellan is leaning against the door of J.D.'s Pub, with blood just dripping down his face! What great placement for a bar, right across the street from a high school! DD: These people in New Orleans know their sheeeit, man. JR: Lucas throws Kellan into the bar and grabs a beer bottle off the table...oh no-- DD: Rock! "THUUD!" JR: The bottle didn't break! DD: Do it again Lucas! Smash him with it again! "THUUD!" JR: A second time doesn't break the bottle! "THUUD!" "THUUD!" [The bottle doesn't break and McCall is visibly pissed as well as somewhat embarrassed. He rears back with the bottle... "WAAAA-CRAAAAACK!" ...and finally smashes the bottle of Rolling Rock over Kellan's head! HEEL POP! Lucas grabs Kellan by his battered head and throws him headlong into the bar! Robert lands with his head and arms dangling over the bar, his feet not touching the ground.] JR: Robert Kellan looks like hell warmed over and he probably doesn't feel much better! McCall with a left to the ribs, and he slams Kellan's head into the bar itself! [Lucas turns around to gloat or catch his breathe or even bum a cig off someone. He succeeds in gloating and catching his breathe, but turns around as Kellan throws a double shot of Jack into his eyes! POP! Kellan fades back like Peyton Manning and fires a STRIKE with the shot glass into the forehead of McCall! "THUUUUUUUUUNK!" POP!] JR: ROBERT KELLAN FIGHTS FIRE WITH FIRE! MCCALL HAS A BIG WELT ON HIS FOREHEAD AS KELLAN CHARGES FORWARD...LARIAT! DD: C'mon Lucas, I got fifty on you! JR: McCall was knocked back into a table. Kellan with a boot to the gut, vertical headscissors.... "CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!" JR: JACKKNIFE POWERBOMB! THROUGH THE TABLE! COVER BY KELLAN! ONE!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! TH-KICKOUT AGAIN! [Heel pop!] JR: McCall kicks out but Kellan is just getting started! Robert grabs Lucas McCall by the hair, gets a running start... [HUGE POP from just about everywhere!] JR: ROBERT KELLAN HURLS MCCALL ONTO THE BAR AND SLIDES HIM DOWN THE ENTIRE LENGTH OF IT! LIKE A DAMN BOWLING BALL! DD: Ramming McCall into various beer mugs is painful, but probably in some ways enjoyable for Lucas. JR: Kellan picks up McCall off the bar, into a military press... "THUUUUUUNNKKK!!" JR: ...and throws McCall into the wall, like a damn lawn dart! DD: LIKE A DART! JR: My God, look at the impact that had! Robert Kellan just dented the wall of J.D.'s Pub using Lucas McCall as a battering ram! [Picking McCall back up, Robert applies a bearhug with his back to the wall, then _hurls_ Lucas up and over with a release belly to belly suplex! McCall hits the same place on the wall, and even cracks it as the bar crowd go nuts!] JR: Robert Kellan's determined to throw McCall through that wall! DD: The brute! The bastard! Can't we all just sit down and have a drink in peace?! JR: Lucas McCall finally has got himself to his feet in front of that cracked wall, but he looks like he's in a daze! DD: KELLAN! KELLAN! "CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" [MAMMOTH HOLY SHIT POP!!] JR: GREAT JUDAS PRIEST! SPEAR _THROUGH THE WALL_! _THROUGH THE WALL_! UNBELIEVABLE! DD: Wait...is that...is that a--IT IS! OHMYGOD, IT IS! [The reason for Dirk's sudden outburst is that Smokey's bad camera'ing finally clears up, and after all the dust settles Lucas McCall can be seen laying on his back on a stage of some sort. Laying just above McCall and screaming bloody murder is a chick dressed in high heels and a thong. Topless, if you will...] DD: NIPPLES! MILLIONS OF NIPPLES! [...and standing above them are a handful of other scantily clad. Some of them are standing next to one of them poles and with their surgically altered hooters swaying awkwardly to bad music.] DD: A STRIP CLUB! WE'RE IN OBSESSIONS WHICH IS OBVIOUSLY CONNECTED TO J.D.'S!! JR: Lucas McCall was speared through a while, into Obsessions and landed in, uh, some young ladies nether regions! DD: This is the greatest moment in GIW history! JR: Lucas McCall is getting to his feet, I'm not sure why and spots a charging Kellan--drop toe hold... DD: FACE FIRST TO THE COOTER! IT'S LIKE ROBERT KELLAN'S BACHELOR PARTY! [In a moment not soon to be forgotten, Robert Kellan got tripped up and landed face first into the strippers forbidden place. In a rare moment of tokenism, McCall presses Kellan's face down further but then pulls him back up, clotheslining Kellan off the stage and to the floor below, where Robert hits with a THUD!] JR: McCall's standing on that wooden stage, looking down... "THUUUUUUUUUUUDDD!" DD: DIVING HEADBUTT BY MCCALL, OFF THE STAGE! JR: COVER! ONE!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!! TH-KICKOUT AGAIN! BOTH OF THESE GUYS WON'T STAY DOWN! [POP!] DD: Although I'll wager Kellan is still up, if you follow me. [McCall is right back on his feet, reaching back on the stage and grabbing a free high heel, then stabbing Kellan right in the eye with it! HUGE HEEL POP!] JR: HIGH HEEL TO THE EYE! KELLAN IS GETTING STABBED IN THE EYE WITH A STRIPPERS' HIGH HEEL! DD: Using your surroundings to your advantage! Nobody knows more about a Street fight then someone raised on the street! JR: Robert has finally gotten that high heel out of his eye, but now McCall is digging that heel into Kellan's forehead! That's just sick! DD: Ain't it great? [With a sudden burst of power Kellan turns Lucas over, straddling him and ravaging his face with blistering right hands, before taking McCall by the hair and slamming his head onto the beer stained floor of Obsessions! POP!] JR: Kellan finally got out of that situation! He's beating the crap out of McCall and has now brought Lucas to his feet...he scoops Lucas up onto his shoulders... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDD!!" JR: DEATH VALLEY DRIVER! ONTO THAT WOODEN STAGE! DD: That thing doesn't even look that sturdy, they better stay the hell away from that before they start racking up some major damage. JR: McCall looks to be out of it, and Kellan once again scoops him up into a bearhug...now he's standing on that stage...he spins--- "THUUUUUUUUUU-CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!" [HUGE POP!] DD: JESUS CHRIST! JR: SPINNING SPINEBUSTER THROUGH THE STRIPPERS' STAGE-- DD: Try to say that five times fast! JR: --AND BOTH MEN ARE EMBEDDED IN LOOSE LUMBER AND DEBRIS! COVER BY KELLAN! ONE!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! THR-KICKOUT AGAIN! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! [POP from inside the High School.] JR: Kellan emerges from that big hole in that stage and he brings McCall with him. Good Lord, Dirk, they look like crap! DD: McCall looks as if he should be legally dead and Kellan has a goddamned hole in his forehead the size of a golf ball. JR: Robert Kellan has finally brought Lucas McCall to a vertical base--MCCALL PUSHES KELLAN BACK! [HUGE HEEL POP!!] JR: AND DROPKICKS A STRIPPER INTO KELLAN! WHAT A LOW DOWN BASTARD! [Lucas reaches off the stage for an object, and let's fly... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" ...breaking a wooden chair over Kellan's head!] JR: McCall is back in control after that shot! He shoves Robert Kellan down the steps, off the stage, and now they're both right by the DJ's booth! DD: Get the hell out of there, DJ Run! Forget about Montell goddamn Jordan! Move! [The DJ's booth, for visual references, is your basic setup with glass partitions separating him from the rest of the crowd. McCall uses this immediately.] "THUNK!" JR: Kellan headfirst to those glass barriers! One more time--no, blocked by Kellan! Robert Kellan with an elbow to the gut, and McCall goes headfirst to that glass! One more time... "CRAAAAAAAAACCCKKK!" DD: Lucas's head broke the glass! He went through that goddamn barrier! JR: Kellan now has a microphone from inside the DJ's area...right to the side of McCall's head! And another shot! The Texan throws McCall to the ground AND APPLIES A CAMEL CLUTCH WITH THAT MICROPHONE CORD! HE'S STRANGLING LUCAS MCCALL! DD: CHEATER! CHEATER! WIFEBEATER! JR: McCall let's go right away however-- DD: What a stupid move! He could have strangled McCall into submission! What a large, stinky, wart infest pussy he is! JR: You, sir, are an asshole. DD: And I'm proud of it! [Kellan whips Lucas with the microphone, socking him right in the head, and then turns Lucas onto his back and drops a fist squah in the eyes.] JR: Cover! ONE!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!! THR-MCCALL KICKS OUT AGAIN! [With a scowl Kellan brings Lucas McCall to his feet, lifting him up for a suplex but McCall slides down the back. Dropping to a knee, McCall rams his fist into the scrotum of Kellan, doubling over the big man. Lucas hits a quick neckbreaker and then turns around, spying some dude in the corner.] JR: *Now* what the hell is he doing? DD: I...I don't want to know. JR: McCall's telling that guy to get out of his seat-- DD: Oh, I know what he's doing, he's getting that guy's belt! [McCall does indeed get the belt of the proud patron and pivots... "WHAAAAAAAAAACK!" ...viciously lashing Kellan with it across the back!] JR: Dammit! "WHAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAACK!" DD: Look at those red marks forming across the back of Kellan! "WHAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAACK!" "WHAAAAAAAAAACK!" [MASSIVE HEEL POP!] JR: LUCAS MCCALL IS SADISTIC! That's just mean! DD: He's just trying to win this match, and prove what a bitch Kellan is. That's all. JR: McCall finally puts down that belt and kicks Kellan toward the door. But the damage has been done! [Closeup on Kellan's back, which is nearly all red from McCall's onslaught. And McCall stomping on it as Robert crawls toward the doors sure isn't helping matters either.] JR: McCall kicks Kellan out the door, onto the sidewalk. DD: God I love strip clubs. JR: Lucas brings Robert to his feet, and whips him--- "THUUUUUUUUNK!" JR: --right the door of a Cadillac! DD: Who the hell owns a Cadillac in this state? JR: Well, there's one, that's for sure. [McCall reaches down and pulls Kellan up by his brown-ish, blood soaked hair. Leaning him against the door of the Caddy, Lucas lets loose... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" ...with a blistering chop! Grabbing Kellan's head, Lucas turns Robert around and propels him headfirst into the window...then into the door!] JR: McCall playing pinball with Kellan's head! Robert staggers back and into a stinging uppercut by the Bostonian! Another! And another! DD: Kickass, Lucas is in control now! JR: McCall winds up, clothesline sends Kellan sprawling onto the hood of the car! Lucas goes to the other side of the car, and pulls Robert's head out, so it's sticking off the Caddy. DD: Oh! Elbow to the throat! [McCall quickly shines up onto the roof of the Caddy and turns around, then jumps off with a guillotine legdrop that strikes Kellan right in the throat, sending Robert flipping off the car to the pavement! McCall stays on the ground for a moment, in pseudo-shock, but gets to his feet with a visible limp.] JR: Lucas McCall with a death defying move and that did equal damage to both guys, I think! DD: Lucas landed right on his assbone like Miguel Caballero! JR: Huh? DD: Miguel with the blue icecream! JR: ... DD: What?! JR: McCall has thrown Kellan back onto the hood of the Caddy and seems to be dragging Robert to the roof. DD: Maybe he'll just throw him off headfirst, and end this little bastard's life. JR: McCall with a clubbing forearm to the back of Kellan, into a vertical headscissors.... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDD!!!" JR: PILEDRIVER ON THE BLUES MOBILE! COVER! ONE!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THR-KICKOUT BY KELLAN! [HUGE POP!] JR: AND WHAT A KICKOUT IT WAS! ROBERT KELLAN BENCH PRESSED MCCALL OFF OF HIM AND THREW HIM OFF OF THE CAR ITSELF! DD: Yowzah. [Lucas landed just fine though and is back to his feet within second, watching and waiting as Kellan gets to his feet. Sneaking back onto the car, McCall grabs an arm and hiptosses Kellan _off the car_.... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDD!!!! NASTY HEEL POP!] JR: KELLAN'S DEAD! ROBERT KELLAN HAS GOT TO BE DEAD AFTER LANDING ON THE CONCRETE BACKFIRST AFTER BEING THROWN OFF A GODDAMN CADILLAC! LUCAS MCCALL IS A MANIAC! DD: He's a maaniac, maaaniac! JR: Now he drops to a chokehold! Lucas McCall is choking the life out of Robert Kellan, although I think the job has already been done! DD: Kellan is just about out of this one! One more move and Lucas is gonna get the win, no doubt! JR: McCall wipes some of the blood out of his eyes, wiping it on his pants. He applies a vertical headscissors, and lifts for the Bitchmaker---KELLAN STANDS UP! ROBERT KELLAN HAS SOMEHOW STOOD UP AND HE'S GOT LUCAS MCCALL ON HIS BACK! [Kellan, just as bloody as McCall if not moreso, stumbles across the street with McCall on his back. Approaching the front lawn of the high school, Robert makes a final lunge and flips Lucas into a sitout pendulum powerbomb onto the grass! HUGE POP!] JR: Kellan with a positively _huge_ move! He drapes an arm over... ONE!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!?!?! DD: NO! LUCAS KICKS OUT AGAIN! HE'S STILL ALIVE! [Kellan rolls over onto his back, wondering just what the hell he has to do. He clears away some of the blood and dirt and assorted other shit that's pasted onto his face and rolls to his belly, beginning to crawl away to the walk way that leads to another set of doors.] JR: McCall's on his feet! Lucas McCall is on his feet...and he buries a boot into the ribs of a crawling Kellan! One more to the head, and McCall brings Kellan to his feet! Both of these guys are bloodied to all hell and they're _still_ fighting! DD: Such things for a broad, Jake. A goddamn broad. JR: McCall with a right--BLOCKED! Kellan returns fire with a right hand of his own to the jaw and a big hairy forearm to the nose! He's got McCall turned around to face the door. Headlock.,..bulldog! Right on the pavement! DD: Jesus God, what hell did these two eat this morning? Wheaties and Rocket fuel? JR: Kellan grabs McCall and brings him up, into a side waistlock...and he drops Lucas with a sidewalk slam! DD: Oh good God, the irony is deafening! A sidewalk slam...on the sidewalk! JR: Convenient, no? Robert Kellan brings McCall to his feet and grabs him by the hair... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAMM!!" JR: ...and throws him headfirst into the doors! They didn't budge, but look at the blood smears on that door! This guys are losing blood by the pint! [Zoom in on the doors and the blood gently trickling down them, as a few spectators can be heard gagging. This is broken up by the sight of McCall getting propelled into the doors again! POP!] JR: McCall's reduced to a human battering ram, but Kellan discards him to the side as he tries to get the door open. DD: You'll need a key, moron. JR: Robert trying to kick the door open and he doesn't see McCall behind him with a garbage can! "WHAAAAAAAAAAACK!" DD: GARBAGE CAN TO THE BACK OF KELLAN! ANOTHER SHOT FOR GOOD MEASURE! JR: McCall sets the can down and scoops a staggering Kellan up...and bodyslams Robert on the can! [Turning to his right, McCall spots a ticket collecting table and races over to it, scattering the people away and dragging it over toward Kellan. He quickly sets it up to his liking and hops on top, turning around and leaping off with a high splash... "KAAAAAAAAAA-RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNCH!" ...that Kellan dodges! Lucas crushes the trash can as Kellan turns him over!] JR: COVER! ONE!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THR-KICKOUT! [POP!] JR: What resiliency by McCall! He's taken a brutal beating and is still standing! DD: Yeaup. JR: Great commentary Dirk, seriously. DD: Yeaup. JR: *sigh* Robert Kellan is back on his feet and he's trying to bring McCall up with him! DD: He's got nowhere to go, them doors are locked tight! JR: Kellan's got Lucas McCall on his feet and runs toward-- "CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH!!!!" [HUGE POP!] DD: THROUGH THE WINDOW! KELLAN THREW HIM THROUGH THE GODDAMNED BATHROOM WINDOW! JR: These guys are both out of their minds! Kellan hops through the now shattered window and opens a door to one of the stalls, putting Lucas's head in between...AND SLAMMING THE DOOR ON MCCALL'S HEAD! DD: What the hell has gotten into Kellan?! Jaysus. JR: Robert throws McCall to the door of the bathroom and stands him up in front of it. If he goes for another spear he just may kill Lucas! That's how he broke down the wall to the strip joint. DD: Ahhh...memories. JR: Kellan charges.... "THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" DD: HE MOVED! MCCALL MOVED OUT OF THE WAY AND KELLAN BROKE THE DOOR DOWN! [Lucas gets to his feet and drags Kellan down the hall, throwing him up a flight of steps and following him up. McCall dumps Robert over the barricade, by way of a right hand, and follows him over, as we're now back in the audience!] JR: These two nuts have battled back into the crowd and McCall's got some guys beer...BEER MIST TO THE EYES! KELLAN'S BLINDED BY MILLER LITE! DD: He's blinded for life! JR: Kellan drops the cup and reaches into the crowd and gets handed---what the hell is that? DD: That is one of those bigass five feet tall hollow candy canes filled with M&M's! "SMAAAAAAAAAACK!" JR: BROKEN OVER THE HEAD OF KELLAN AS M&M'S FLY EVERYWHERE! He just knocked Kellan three feet back through the crowd, coming closer to the ring side area! DD: Now McCall's got a skillet! He's gonna knock Kellan out of his goddamn mind! JR: McCall winds up--Kellan ducks! Robert with a kick to the gut and now he's got the skillet... "CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNGGGGG!!" JR: RIGHT ACROSS THE HEAD! MCCALL JUST FELL DOWN LIKE HE GOT SHOT! [Kellan brings a limp McCall to his feet and hooks him for a suplex, lifting him up and hanging Lucas out to dry on the railing! POP! Robert pushes McCall back into the ringside area and jumps over the railing, dropping into a cover...] JR: ONE!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE---NOOO!!! KICKOUT BY MCCALL! INCREDIBLE! [HEEL POP!] JR: Both men are back to their feet, Kellan with a right that's ducked by McCall! Lucas with a right of his own and he throws Robert headfirst into the railing! One more time! DD: We're gonna need some major aspirin after this one. JR: McCall with a vertical headscissors...lift into a-- "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDD!!" DD: CRADLE PILEDRIVER! THAT'S THE BITCHMAKER! ONE!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREEE!!!!!!!!!!! [.........] JR: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! ROBERT KELLAN KICKS OUT! KELLAN KICKS OUT! DD: And Lucas is pissed! OH! Knee to the nuts and he's crawling back into the ring! [Robert Kellan slowly follows him into the ring and McCall meets him with some more stiff boots to the head, as he turns and is thrown a bottle of something. He waits for Kellan to get to his feet...which he does...and turns him around... "FSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHH!!!" ...spraying the Mace at Kellan!] [HUGE POP!] JR: KELLAN DODGES THE MACE!! BOOT TO THE GUT, ROBERT HAS THE MACE--- "FSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHH!!" DD: RIGHT IN THE EYES! WHAT A PRICK! JR: Kellan's pointing at the rabid crowd, signalling to them...? Maybe for a weapon? Robert lifts McCAll into a military press... DD: I know what he's gonna do!! [MAMMOTH CROWD POP!] JR: BODYSURFING! HE THREW MCCALL INTO THE CROWD WHO CAUGHT HIM! AMAZING! WHAT A MATCH! [Kellan ducks right back out of the ring and hops into the crowd, lining up a staggering Lucas McCall and smashes him with a huge lariat! McCall literally leaves his feet and flies back as Kellan rushes to where he lands, diving into a cover!] JR: ONE!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THR-KICKOUT AGAIN! WHAT DOES ROBERT KELLAN HAVE TO DO?! DD: I have no friggin' idea. JR: Kellan gets back to his feet and helps McCall up-OH! EYE GOUGE! McCall with a thumb to the eye and someone just handed him a plate-- "CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! JR: --WHICH HE SHATTERS OVER THE HEAD OF ROBERT KELLAN! DD: Booyah, back in the game! JR: Elbow to the throat and now McCall throws Kellan onto the stage in back, narrowly missing the tables stacked up in front of it. DD: Kellan's flat on his ass and Lucas goes into the wings and brings out..a toy lightsaber?! What the hell kind of weapon is that? JR: It looks like it's solid though, not retractable... DD: Oh, nevermind then. JR: McCall winds up... "THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" JR: AND BREAKS THE LIGHTSABER OVER KELLAN'S HEAD! DD: Obi-Wan has taught him well! JR: COVER! ONE!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!! THR-KICKOUT!!!!!!! [POP!] DD: Goddamnit! You do _not_ no sell a lightsaber! JR: McCall is righteously pissed, and now he's got Kellan up...big right hand--DUCKED! KELLAN WITH A BOOT TO THE GUT, INTO A VERTICAL SUPLEX AND HE'S WALKING TOWARD THOSE TABLES--- "CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSHHHHHH!!!!" "G-I-DUB!" "G-I-DUB!" "G-I-DUB!" "G-I-DUB!" "G-I-DUB!" "G-I-DUB!" "G-I-DUB!" "G-I-DUB!" "G-I-DUB!" "G-I-DUB!" "G-I-DUB!" "G-I-DUB!" "G-I-DUB!" "G-I-DUB!" "G-I-DUB!" "G-I-DUB!" JR: SILVER STAR BOMB THROUGH THE TABLES! COVER! ONE!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [.............] [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: HE DID IT! HE DID IT! ROBERT KELLAN WINS! DD: DAMNIT! DAMNIT! MORE BLACK EYES FOR LYDIA! AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. the winner of the match.. ROBERT KELLAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [MONSTER FACE POP! as the fans all gather around the stage and broken tables and cheer for their gladiator this evening!] JR: What a match, Dirk, what a goddamn war! DD: Yes, yes.. I gotta say.. that was f'n crazy! Blood, tables, the good ole outdoors.. it had it all! JR: So far tonight has not been for the weak at heart here in the Cardinal High School Gymnasium as blood has flowed freely almost all night and it just continued in one vicious street fight.. DD: I hope McCall is alive. JR: Me too.. but that fall from the stage was vile.. DD: I know, assy! JR: But I think it's time to change speeds, Dirk. DD: Huh? JR: Up next.. we have a match six months in the making with a whole lot on the line.. DD: Loser Leaves Town!! WOOOOOOOOO!! JR: That's right.. Jaime Roth and Shane Destiny have been at odds for a very long time.. and their time limit draw at Brawlin' only helped cement the hatred of the two.. but tonight.. we will see a winner.. and we will definitely see a loser.. as they go two out of three falls! And the loser? He's sent packing as this is also under Loser Leaves Town rules! DD: Fans, take a good long look at Roth tonight.. 'cause it's the last time you'll ever see him in the Grand Isle! JR: Or could it be Destiny that is sent packing? DD: Never! JR: Well.. let's hear what the two warriors had to say about tonight's career making or ending match.. [Fade in to the weight room within Cardinal High School. The clinking of weights is audible as the camera focuses on none other than Jamie Roth, doing some lat pulldowns. He's wearing a sleeveless "Rufio" T-shirt and navy blue Adidas gym shorts. Standing beside him is his manager, Angie. Yes, aside from the black babydoll with "Superbitch" emblazoned across the front in pink cursive and the short jean skirt, she's wearing a black neckbrace. She doesn't look too happy, either. Jamie continues working out for a few minutes, huffing and puffing. Finally, he just drops the weight, creating a "clang" that echoes throughout the empty weight room. Roth takes a few moments to catch his breath before glancing at the camera.] JR: So, Shane... I see you wanted to take things a step further, huh? Loser Leaves Town, you say? [Jamie pauses and lets out an uncharacteristically evil snicker.] JR: Well, that's all fine and dandy, Destiny. I've got no problem with raising the stakes to it's highest... 'cause, you see, I'm pretty confident that I can beat you. I will beat you. And you know who's fault it'll be? Yours. You've given me the motivation, Destiny... you've created a [BLEEP]ing monster. [For the first time, it seems, Jamie's cussed. Angie, who is taken aback at first, nods in agreement.] JR: I'm gonna tear you apart for what you did to Angie... and for all the things you've done to me. Two out of three falls, Loser Leaves Town -- they're just stipulations. Words. Rules. I'm not gonna entrap myself in those. I don't care about losing as long as I hurt you, Shane. [Angie raises her index finger, stopping Jamie. She glares directly at the camera... and everyone knows to whom that glare is directed.] A: Roxie. Die. NiNO. [To that, Jamie nods enthusiastically.] JR: Yeah... what she said! Oh, and Shane? Before the see the light... you must _die_. Sounds familiar, I'm sure. [With Jamie's quotation of Slayer, we fade out.] [Fade backstage, where "Sweet Dreams" Shane Destiny prepares for his upcoming match with Jamie Roth -- alone. Roxie is nowhere in sight. The legs of his wrestling pants are pulled up to his knees, as he is currently lacing his boots. He talks as he laces.] 2SD: Tonight's th' night, Jamie. Th' night where y' get th' chance t' prove y' can back up y'er worthless claims. Th' night where y' get th' chance t' show th' state o' Louisiana just what kind o' a man y' are. Y' see, Jamie -- y' tried t' sabotage m' career. Y' tried t' defame m' character. Y' tried t' say y' were more o' a man than m'. But y' see, Jamie, ain't none o' that shit is true. It's just y'er average wrestlin' talk from a below average wrestler that needs t' say dirty shit with th' hope that it'll throw th' better wrestler off his game. [Destiny pulls his pant leg down.] 2SD: Y' tried t' get th' girls involved, because that's th' only way y' would get attention, an' I think that's been taken care o'. Roxie -- she's not here. It's that time o' th' month an' I didn't feel like puttin' her through flyin' out t' some hellhole. Besides, considerin' a few circumstances -- she ain't all that concerned about y' anyway. An' besides -- considerin' th' unfortunate incident that befell poor Angie th' last time our paths crossed -- I don't think there'd b' much f'er her t' d' anyway. [A smirk.] 2SD: See, Jamie? Y' brought this on y'erself. Y' wouldn't stop at costin' m' money. Y' wouldn't stop at draggin' Roxie int' it. Y' just had t' claim y'er a better man than me -- that was y'er last mistake. I damn near broke y'er girl's neck. I cost y' a chance at a title. An' tonight? I put th' final nail in y'er coffin. I take y' out. I prove t' th' Grand Isle that _nobody_ messes with Shane Destiny an' _lives_. An' all I had t' do was destroy y'er life. [Destiny rubs his chin.] 2SD: Maybe next, I'll break th' damn midget. [He grins. Fade out.] JR: Both men exuding a ton of confidence.. and tonight they are gonna need all of and then some if they want to come out of New Orleans with a contract still intact. DD: Shane has it wrapped up. JR: We shall find out right now, Dirk, right now. [Cut to Hervez.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest is a TWO OUT OF THREE FALLS, LOSER LEAVES TOWN MATCH!!! [MONSTER POP!!] And it has no time limit.. introducing first.. [The drums of "Touched by the Hand of God (Razormaid Remix)" by New Order kick up, signalling the entrance of "Sweet Dreams" Shane Destiny. And the drums continue, as the fans wait -- and wait. For a minute, no less. The fans, getting impatient, start to boo even louder than before. Finally, Destiny makes his entrance, walking slowly. He's dressed in the usual -- zebra-striped pants, black wrestling boots, black elbowpads, black electrical tape around his wrists. He is also wearing a sleeveless black T-shirt with the words "BASTARD MESSIAH" in bold print. And notably -- he's without Roxie. Destiny looks around, staring at the fans down, as a cup of soda flies past his head. Destiny simply mouths the words "nice aim, motherfucker", as he climbs up onto the apron and steps in. He takes off his shirt after entering, and proceeds to neatly fold it while his music fades.] AH: In the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 233 pounds.. and he hails from Southern Pines, North Carolina.. here is.. "SWEET DREAMS" SHANE DESTINY!!!! [BIG HEEL POP! as the Bastard Messiah stalks the ring awaiting his opponent.] AH: And his opponent.. [The opening chords of "Single" by 26 Weeks shriek over the low budget PA system of the Cardinal High School Gymnasium. This, of course, stirs up a face pop as none other than Jamie Roth makes his way through the entrance portal, accompanied by the lovely (not to mention spunky) Angie. Roth is donning his usual ring attire: carbon-colored tights -- kneepads worn underneath -- with oraange flames going up the sides; white boots; and to top it all off, white tape wrapped around the wrists.] AH: On his way to the ring.. he is accompanied by Angie [POP!!].. he weighs in tonight at 221 pounds and he hails from Saint Louis, Missouri.. here is.. JAIME ROTH!!!!!!!!!!!! [BIG TIME POP!! as Roth just awaits the bell and his arch-nemesis standing across the ring waiting for war.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Nightmare In New Orleans: 2 Out Of 3 Falls, Loser Leaves Town Match!!! Jaime Roth vs. "Sweet Dreams" Shane Destiny Written By: Wallie Deeznuts ----------------------------------------------------------------------- [DING!! DING!! DING!!] JR: And here we are, Dirk, this match is underway and if their match at Brawlin' is any indication this is going to be a doozy. DD: Not to mention that Destiny is a pretty good favorite. Six to Two odds for Destiny, even odds that he has a shitty accent. I got my money on him. Really should put it on Roth...but not taking _that_ big a risk. JR: Ohhhhh...k. I don't know what bookie you're keeping but Roth and Destiny have had quite the heated, quit the back and forth rivalry for some time. Last time on a show this big they went to a draw, Destiny locking on the Destiny Clutch as time expired. This time it's two out of three falls...should be fantastic. [Moving from Angie at ringside, Roth moves towards the awaiting Destiny, no Roxie in his corner. The two move towards each other, eyeing each other up as they circle, finally coming within inches of each other. Neither backs down, neither looks away, the crowd buzzing in anticipation....] "SLAAAAAAP!" OHHHHHHH! JR: Safe to say this one's on! [Roth, anger smeared across his face, slowly turns back towards Destiny... SLAAAAAAP!" OHHHHHHH! ..and gets the exact same treatment, a hard slap straight across the face!] DD: Wow, treating him like a bitch, who woulda guessed? JR: Roth is pissed and --- [BIG POP as Roth lights up Destiny with lefts and rights, pistons firing at full capacity!] JR: And here we go! Roth is taking it to Shane Destiny, pouring on the lefts and rights, forcing him against the ropes! Destiny is trying to fight back but striking just isn't his strong point and that's a well known fact. DD: However, dropping people on skulls...no one does it better. [Continuing the assault, shrugging off Destiny's feeble defensive attempts, Roth pushes him to the ropes, whipping him and taking him right down with a sharp back elbow. Destiny gets up quickly, Roth once again grabbing him and whipping him at the ropes, this time taking him down hard with a spinning leg lariat to a good ovation!] DD: Wow, all this flippy stuff is fun and all but getting your neck broken eighty different ways isn't either. JR: Jamie Roth is doing everything he can _not_ to get dumped and not to get into the oh so deadly reach of Shane Destiny. he is relying on speed and it is working wonders for him right now. DD: Destiny is up though, trouble could be coming. JR: Roth staying on him, in the corner... "SMAAAAAAACK!" WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO! "SMAAAAAAACK!" WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO! "SMAAAAAAACK!" WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO! JR: Now those are CHOPS! [HEEL POP as Destiny grabs Roth and spins him into the corner, winding up and firing off one of his own!] DD: No, THAT is a chop! "SMAAAAAAACK!" WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO! "SMAAAAAAACK!" WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO! JR: Destiny lighting him up [POP!] Roth turns him around... "SMAAAAAAACK!" WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO! "SMAAAAAAACK!" WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO! "SMAAAAAAACK!" "SMAAAAAAACK!" "SMAAAAAAACK!" "SMAAAAAAACK!" [Needless to say the place loves it, Roth laying into Destiny with fervor! Grabbing his stunned opponent, he whips him across the ring, only to be reversed, Roth being sent hard into the corner by the bigger, stronger Shane Destiny.] JR: Turn around by Destiny... DD: Of course he turns it around jackass, he wasn't staying down forever. JR: Destiny charges...[SMACK!] ...right into a boot, stumbles out....SPRINGBOARD DROPKICK FROM JAMIE ROTH CONNECTS AND ANGIE LOVES IT! DD: She loves a lot of things, that ho bag. JR: Ho bag? DD: What? [Quickly Roth covers Destiny, hooking a leg for the cover!] ONE! TWO! [And as easy at that Destiny kicks out, the crowd sighing in disappointment. Roth is quickly up to his feet, pulling Destiny with him and straight into a side headlock.] JR: Roth slowing the pace down here, trying to catch his breath and it makes sense why...however not the best idea. DD: Of course it isn't. Anyone and everyone knows that this is where Shane Destiny is the most dangerous. If he can grab you, he can suplex you and _no one_ throws a suplex like Shane Destiny. I'd put 10-1 that no one does as a matter of fact. JR: Of course you would, but that isn't the only thing here. Destiny is a much more solid mat worker...and he is showing it...top wristlock on Jamie Roth. Great reversal by Shane Destiny. [Keeping on the offense, Destiny forces back, stepping behind Roth and uses his superior size and power to force Roth down to a bridge, referee Eli Francois right there to check on Roth's shoulders and look for a possible pin.] DD: Destiny is going to snap his spine in half if he keeps pressing down. No way Roth can bridge like that forever. He's a stupid punk...there's no way. JR: He's trying with all he has, refusing to budge...drops his neck...AND MONKEY FLIPS DESTINY OVER! [POP!] JR: Roth turning and charging...and right into a drop toe hold by Destiny. DD: And right to an arm bar, keeping Roth down and grounded. Now _this_ is how you number 1, make me money and number 2, wrestle. JR: Destiny certainly keeping him grounded, wrenching on that arm...and look at him smile at Angie. How sick is that. her boyfriend's arm could be broken by Destiny in this hold and he is forcing her to watch it, laughing at it! DD: OK, those odds just went 7-2. JR: Destiny pulling Roth up now, swings...arm drag! Roth up...another armdrag! [Roth is quickly up once again, this time catching Destiny with an arm drag of his own to a POP! Shane Destiny is quick to his feet, ducking a Roth clothesline and turning with his own...only to have it ducked! Both men quickly scramble, the crowd popping as both leap with a missed dropkick...and then stand off!] JR: Big stand off and the crowd loves it, Dirk, they love it! DD: Of course they do. They have athletes this caliber busting their asses...and Roth is doing well. They have nothing to complain about. JR: Are you kidding me? Roth is doing more then well....and apparently wants to shake Destiny's hand. What sportsmanship. DD: How god damn corny. Destiny isn't his friend. He doesn't want to shake hands...he wants to break them. [The fans start buzzing as Destiny looks at Roth, down at his hand and then into his face again, holding out his hand...exchanges the gesture...and kicks Roth in the stomach!] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [HEEL POP!] JR: D-D-T! D-D-T BY DESTINY! THAT BAcKSTABBER JUST SPIKED ROTH AND-- [The crowd explodes even more as Roth rise quickly to his feet, standing behind an unsuspecting Destiny, eyes flaring!] DD: What in the hell is that no sell-- JR: He's pissed off and he's up! Destiny turning around...[POP!] ATOMIC DROP BY ROTH! DD: Who in the hell does he think he is?! He can't be doing this, not after a DDT! JR: Roth on fire, Destiny turning...CLOTHESLINE...gets up...ANOTHER CLOTHESLINE! [The crowd EXPLODES as Roth is on fire, motioning for Destiny to get up again. The second he does and the second he turns towards Roth, he leaps, taking Destiny down with a quick Frankensteiner, pinning him down!] JR: The count! ONE! TWO! [BOO!] DD: No way he was going to keep him down after something that simple. JR: But Jamie Roth isn't done! [Roth gets to his feet and again Destiny gets up and again he is taken down, this time Roth charging in and planting him with a spinning headscissors! Destiny flies into a corner, popping to his feet and towards a charging Roth.] JR: Roth charging again...spinning head--BACKBREAKER BY DESTINY! DD: Awesome reversal, nearly busting Roth in half right over his knee. That's how you keep control of a match. That is how you slow the pace down. JR: Shane Destiny isn't nearly done, hooks Roth in a rear waistlock... DD: We know that this means! JR: GERMAN SU--ROTH LANDS ON HIS FEET! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD! [And hits one of his own to a SHOCKED pop!] DD: WHA?! He can't even come up with his own moves! JR: Jamie Roth taking a play right out of Shane Destiny's book! He has his opponent well scouted Dirk and knew what was coming. DD: Cheating bastid. JR: Roth with the pin! ONE! TWO! [KICKOUT!] DD: He took _way_ too long to go for that pin. JR: But he's keeping the offense on, keeping Destiny off balance as he has this first out of possibly three falls. Headlock...vertical suplex by Roth and he goes for the pin again! ONE! TWO! THR--KICKOUT! JR: Jamie Roth is getting close to pinning Shane Destiny again, lifts him again into a headlock--SUPLEX--DESTINY LANDS BEHIND! [POP! Quickly he hooks the waist and Roth makes for the ropes, holding on, Destiny trying to hold on but to no avail, instead being sent rolling backwards. Roth turns, waiting for Destiny to get back up, stomping the mat to a rousing cheer!] JR: He's loading the boot! DD: He'd have to to have it have an effect. JR: Destiny getting up, Roth taking aim--THE SUPERKICK MISSES! DESTINY WITH THE REAR WAISTLOCK AND LIFTS! GERMAN-- [HUGE POP!] --ROLL UP BY ROTH! ONE! TWO! THREE! [DING!! DING!! DING!!] [Shocked as we all are, the crowd ERUPTS in cheers, Roth flying off a surprised Shane Destiny!] AH: The winner of the first fall... JAMIE ROTH! [POP!] JR: I can't believe it and neither can a single person in here, not even Jamie Roth! That pinfall came out of nowhere and ...and wow, what a shock! DD: I didn't even think a pin would come this fast from anyone. Obviously Roth pulled the trunks. No way else he could have got the pin like that. No way. JR: Well either way you look at it, Jamie Roth took that all important first pin in this match and has the advantage whether anyone likes it or not. Shane Destiny is really going to have to work hard here to get ahead and win this one. DD: And that's exactly what he's going to do. He might need to break legs, he might need to snap arms, he might need to crush Roth's neck, but he'll do it and in grand fashion! [Francois checks on both men, making sure they are ready to continue. Destiny doesn't even glance at him, instead staring a death glare at Roth, who continues to speak over strategy with Angie. The bell rings...and Destiny explodes, attacking Roth with forearm after forearm!] JR: Destiny starting this one off quick and just laying into Roth with some of the loudest forearms I have ever heard! DD: Hey, suplexes aren't the only thing he can break necks with. JR: Destiny pouring it on, Roth staggering, trying to get away but he just can't! Shane Destiny with the Irish whip, Roth coming off the other side and ducks a clothesline...[POP!] DROPKICK TO THE KNEE! DESTINY GOES DOWN! [And as he does, Roth gets back up, waiting for Destiny to get up. He does and Roth charges forward...] JR: Step-up Enzuiguiri--OH MY GOD-- "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [SHOCKED POP!] --CAPTURE SUPLEX! SHANE DESTINY CAUGHTT HIM HALF WAY THROUGH THAT MOVE AND DUMPED HIM ON HIS HEAD! DD: I've said it before and I'll say it again boy-o, no one throws suplexes like Destiny. JR: This could be over already. ONE! TWO! TH-- [And to a shriek from Angie, Roth kicks out, the crowd letting out a gasp. Destiny just gets up and drops a quick knee into the side of Roth's head, up and doing it again.] JR: Knee drops now from Destiny, keeping Roth down and stunned. I was sure he was done after that suplex, Dirk. DD: And he almost was...but be patient. Shane likes to take his time and make sure the job is done and done right. JR: Destiny up...another knee drop! He is slamming those knees down hard, knee after knee into the head and face and I can only imagine how that feels. DD: It looks like Destiny has had enough... "THUUUUUUD!" ...and gives Roth a big time Snap suplex. Gorgeous. JR: But he doesn't go for a pin, instead right up again and dropping an elbow across the chest of Roth, right back up to his feet...another elbow...another...picks Roth up...and fires knees into his head now. This Shane Destiny is a dangerous man and is destroying Jamie Roth right now. [Landing a couple more staggering knees, Destiny switches his hands, locking around the head of Jamie Roth with a front necklock/guillotine choke, forcing the wind and energy from his opponent. He wrenches back, hurting the neck even more, sneering as the ref tries to force him to let go for no given reason... "THUUUUUUUUUUD!" ...finally just whipping Roth up and over!] DD: DAMN! I have never seen anything like that before! JR: A necklock suplex from Destiny...he could have killed Roth right there. He could have broken his neck and ended his career and he doesn't even care. He's going for a very nonchalant pin. You're not going to make a pin like that. ONE! TWO! [KICKOUT!] DD: Well, what do you know, you were right for once. You must be so proud. JR: Destiny's ego might be getting to him right now. He isn't focusing like he should be and that could lead to another surprise pinfall. Jamie Roth isn't exactly moving right now, crawling to the corner, trying to pull himself up, trying to recover as Destiny argues with Francois over the slow count. DD: He isn't arguing...he's merely teaching Francois how to count properly. Obviously he has problems counting to three. Crap, I'd rather have the midget in there. At least we know he could do the job. JR: You know all about him and his 'jobs' according to the boys in the back. So you'd know better then I. DD: .... [Seeing Roth getting up in the corner, Destiny charges in, leaping with a knee to the midsection of Roth, almost putting him right down with that. Destiny moves and Roth stumbles out of the corner, Destiny once again charging forward, nearly knocking Roth's head into the fifth row with a lariat to the back of Roth's head...to a HUGE POP!] JR: GODDAMN! Enough already Shane Destiny. If you want to get this pinfall, do it already. You don't need to punish him even further. DD: And look at Roth run for the hills. JR: Jamie Roth rolling to the outside of the ring, looking for some measure of safety and good for him. Destiny's certifiable. DD: A certifiable champion and killer! JR: He isn't a champion. DD: Well he should have been. He should have taken the belt from the fat piece of crap City Jack...but hey, I can live with it. Jack will get his own and big time when he gets in the ring with Rembrandt. That old wreck is done. JR: Let's keep the focus on this match already, Dirk. We have quite the contest going on here and it deserves our full attention. [Keeping Roth in his sights, Destiny slides out after him, Angie getting as far away as she can. Seeing Roth hurt and dazed, he pounds into him with a stiff forearm shiver sending him crashing. Destiny doesn't relent, finally grabbing Roth and slamming him, hard, headfirst into the ring post. Roth collapses, Destiny staying on him and pulling him up once again, this time lifting and dropping him throat first against the hard steel guard railing!] JR: The crowd is letting Destiny have it and justifiably so. He is brutalizing Roth out there unnecessarily. I am quite sure he could have made the pin already, but he's out there, continuing the assault. DD: That's what's justifiable! Roth cheated to get the pin he did and now he's paying for it. Let's just call Shane Destiny our sheriff and he rounding up the drunks. JR: What he's doing is rolling Roth in...and he's going after Angie. Stay on the match and leave her alone Destiny! She didn't do a thing to you. DD: Oh...I am sure she's tried the whore. Too bad Roxie wasn't out here. She could be tearing Angie a new one. JR: Shane Destiny has Roth in the ring and slides in after him. He is dominant right now. I don't think Roth has anything left in him, not after the brutality so far. [Grabbing Roth and pulling him up, Destiny grabs him for a t-bone suplex but Roth has him well scouted and fires off a pair of dizzy elbows that stop the move.] JR: Roth stopping the exploder, swings wildly, Destiny ducks... and atomic drop from behind! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" OHHHHHHH! [HEEL POP!] JR: AND HITS A SIT OUT FACE FIRST POWERBOMB WITHOUT LETTING GO! DD: What a move by Shane Destiny, Jacob Rogers! Now _THAT_ is brutality! [BIG POP as Destiny reaches for the Destiny Strangle, Roth, despite the beating, scrambling to the bottom rope.] JR: Destiny just went for the fall ender right there. If he would have locked on the Destiny Strangle, this would be all over. DD: Damn rights it would. This match would be all over. Another fall or not they might as well just count Roth out once he gets locked in that hold. JR: Destiny keeping on the offensive, something he is so very good at, stomping Roth down, sending his boots into the back of his head, sending it bouncing off the mat. DD: Now, Jacob, that would be a unique knockout if I ever saw one. Bouncing the poor jackasses head off the mat like a basketball. Then again, if this were basketball and Jamie Roth were Sacramento, Roth'd fall for nothing and blame someone not even near him. JR: Oh.....k. Well anyhow folks, Destiny is pounding Roth's head into the corner turnbuckle, Roth can barely stand...and he isn't anymore. [Releasing him, Roth falls down to his knees, his head resting against the bottom turnbuckle as he tries to gain some wind...get rid of some pain...and get back into this match.] JR: Destiny backing off, looking like he's going to let Roth recover and... "THWAAAAAAAAAACK!" [GASP!] ...OH MY GOD! DROPKICK TO THE BACK OF ROTH'S HEAD! DD: His head was on that turnbuckle! Sick! SICK!! JR: And now Shane Destiny is just standing on the back of Jamie Roth's head. He IS sick! DD: But he's kicking Jamie Roth's flash dancing, back to the future ass...and I love it! [The referee manages to eventually get Destiny off, Roth just laying motionless on the mat, Angie inching closer to check on him. Destiny chases her away with once quick glance, pulls Roth up, hooks him.... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" ...and drops him on his head with a back drop driver!] JR(matter of factly): It's over. ONE! TWO! THREE! JR: NO! JAMIE ROTH GOT A SHOULDER UP! [The crowd, seeing this, cheers madly for him, Destiny in angered shock and letting Francois know. He argues with the ref and fans, Roth still laying on the mat with nary a movement.] DD: I think Jamie Roth is dead there pal. He isn't moving, hasn't for a while. JR: With everything Destiny has done to him so far, can you blame him? He is hurt, must be in all kinds of pain and Destiny is staying right on him, pulling him up and slams an elbow right into the back of his neck. DD: Destiny's the master. He's sticking to one body part and just brutalizing it...that being the neck. He weakens it...he locks on the Destiny Strangle...all is right with the world. JR: Destiny has him hooked...[THUD!] GUT WRENCH SUPLEX! DD: It's a clinic baby. "THUUUUUD!" JR: Another gut wrench suplex! It's like he's a cat playing with a trapped mouse in there. DD: Or in his case...a rat. No wait, that's Angie. JR: Oh come on, Dirk. DD: Fine, she's not a rat. She's a whore. Ask around, you'll find out. JR: .... [Getting to his feet again, Destiny once again wraps Roth up in a rear waistlock and heaves him over, only Roth lands on his feet to the delight of the crowd... "THUUUUUUUUUUUD!" ...and takes down Destiny with an inverted DDT out of nowhere! BIG POP! Both men are down, neither moving a ton minus clutching their necks, Roth the first to move, his second wind pushing him to the corner where he begins climbing to the top.] JR: Roth's up top! He's ready to launch, Destiny getting up...here comes Roth--CROSSBODY--CAUGHT!! [SHOCKED POP!] "THUUUUUUUD!" JR: BLOCKBUSTER SUPLEX! DD: And he bridges! When was the last time you saw that? ONE! TWO! [Roth kicks out, Destiny holding on and pulling Roth with him, adjusting his grip and sending him over with a t-bone variation, _again_ bridging!] DD: Shane Destiny rules you bitch! ONE! TWO! [KICKOUT! However Destiny isn't letting go, pulling Roth right up to his feet, ducks under and takes him over, this time with a Northern Lights Suplex!] JR: Another suplex...CROSS ARMBREAKER! FLOAT OVER TO A CROSSBREAKER! WHAT A MOVE! DD: Once again. Shane Destiny...ruleage. You...bitchmade. JR: Roth is trapped with the cross armbreaker, a deadly, deadly submission hold. This could snap his elbow or his arm and if anyone knows how to do it, it'd be Shane Destiny! DD: And he'll enjoy it. [Wrenching away, Destiny calls for Roth to quit, yelling at him, yelling at the ref that Roth quit...until Angie reaches in and when the ref isn't looking, puts the foot of Roth on the ropes. Francois turns and sees it...and orders the hold broken to a BIG POP!] JR: Destiny seen that one. Angie is in trouble. DD: BIG trouble! JR: Angie better run for her life. If Destiny get's his hands on her she is a dead, dead woman. [POP as Destiny easily catches up to her, grabbing her by the ropes...BIGGER POP as she up and slaps him right across the face!] DD: Oh no you didn't. JR: Oh yes she did and ...and she shouldn't have! That did nothing but piss Destiny off and... ROOOOOOOOOOOOTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~! [And the namesake of Jacob's yelling comes into view, leaping over the top rope with a somersault that flattens Destiny on the floor~!] G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! JR: TOPE CON HILO BY JAMIE ROTH! DD: Suddenly this match looks very different. JR: Damn rights it does, Dirk, damn rights it does! This match now looks the way it should be and that's Jamie Roth on top of Shane Destiny, trying to finish it! DD: Ewwwww JR: What the?! Shut up bitch! DD: .... [.........] "CRAAAAAAAAAACK!" [POP!] JR: What a Russian leg sweep by Roth, right into the railing! Destiny's head bounced off and it looks like the tide has turned! DD: Cheating like a whore will do that. If this was in the ring, none of this crap would be happening. [Well it looks like this is going back into the ring. Roth rolls Destiny in, climbing up after him and bodyslamming him in the middle of the ring. Quickly he moves to the corner, ignoring a pin. The crowd buzzes, having a good idea of what is coming next!] JR: Roth is heading up top! He is looking to finished off the downed Destiny right here and right now, finish this match once and for all and send him packing from GIW! DD: We haven't mentioned that much. The loser...Roth...leaves town. JR: Roth is heading up top... [HEEL POP!] ...and Destiny just pushed the ref into the ropes! Roth just had his chance ruined by another Destiny shortcut. DD: A shortcut that's gonna let him keep his job...so remember, any shortcut is a good one. [To his feet, Destiny moves in for the kill, hitting Roth with a pair of big right hands before climbing up after him...hooking his upper body.... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" ...and sending him crashing head over heels, both men down and out!] JR: HEAD AND ARM SUPLEX FROM THE TOP ROPE! WHAT A MOVE! WHAT A GODDAMN MOVE! DD: This is his chance! He needs to make the cover and tie this up. JR: He is doing just that...crawling over...and drapes am arm across the chest of Roth! ONE! TWO! THREE--KICKOUT! [FACE POP!] JR: _SO_ close! Shane Destiny was _this_ far away from tying this best two out of three falls match up! DD: Dammit, get the midget in there! Hervez knows how to count..he's a smart man. Hell, it was his idea to ....uh, nevermind. JR: Destiny is up, still strong in this match despite the attempted comebacks from Jamie Roth. Picks him up, standing headscissors... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" ...POWERBOMB--AND HOLDS ON! [In an absolute amazing display of power, Destiny holds on and heaves Roth upwards, not dropping him down but over, sending him crashing throat first on the top rope! He bounces back violently, clutching at his neck as he writhes in pain on the mat, Destiny resting up against the ropes as the fans pour on RABID heel heat!] JR: Damn! Did you see that, Dirk? He ...he could have killed Roth yet again. He has no regard for anyone's health...goddammit, this has gone to far! DD: What are you going to do about it? Shane Destiny and Jamie Roth knew what they were getting into. What happens, happens in there. No one is stopped them. JR: Roth is still clutching at his throat, this could be serious...DESTINY STRANGLE! [POP as Destiny locks his hold on firm this time, pulling back with all he has, Roth screaming out in pain. He struggles...and struggles.... ...and gets the ropes with his foot to a TREMENDOUS reaction!] JR: HE GOT THE ROPES! DD: And you think Shane Destiny is going to give him a single second of breathing room? No way, hell he's already picking him up. Fall #2, here we come. JR: Destiny's scooping him up again, this time onto his shoulders.... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" ...RUNNING DEATH VALLEY DRIVER! CALL THE BANK, THIS ONE IS OVER! DD: Worst...line...ever. JR: Here's the pin! ONE! TWO! [HEEL POP! Destiny had three. He surely did but opted to pull Roth up at the last second, no one, ref included, liking it a single bit! He gets to his feet, holding Roth quasi up by the hair, Angie looking on with near tears in her eyes. The concern overwhelms her as she turns away, Destiny pulling Roth right up again...] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD~!" JR: MICHINOKU DRIVER! ARE YOU KIDDING ME SHANE DESTINY?! DD: No, he's utterly fricking serious. Serious that Roth isn't going to be leaving anything but loved ones behind. JR: It's over, the score is tied. ONE! TWO! [And again Destiny pulls Roth up before the three count and again the crowd HAAAAAAAAAAAAATES him for it!] JR: THAT BASTARD! He had the god damn pin, why didn't he take it?! DD: Call it a life's lesson. JR: Are you kidding me? He's trying to end the career of Jamie Roth in there. What kind of lesson is that?! [Hooking Roth by the head, Destiny lifts him and drops him stomach first across the top rope, letting him hang there in pain, barely conscious. He backs off, blows a kiss to Angie and charges forward, slamming a leaping knee into the side of Roth's head!] DD: Damn, that fricking hurt Roth! JR: Destiny isn't even close to done, backs off...[CRACK!]... BIG BOOT! Right to the side of Roth's face! "CRACK!" JR: Another running boot! Roth falls off the ropes from the impact, laying in a heap on the apron. Shane Destiny is a monster here tonight. He may have lost the first fall but he is bound and determined to get this second fall and get it now. DD: And of course right after that he'll get the third count because, well, Roth'll be dead and easy to pin. [Roth tries to recover, pulling himself up on the rope. Destiny quits pacing and helps Roth up...by the hair. Getting a good grip he runs forward towards the turnbuckle and throws Roth right at it, only for him to get his foot up, the momentum sending Destiny crashing into the turnbuckle pad face first! BIG POP!] JR: This could be his chance! Destiny is stunned, Roth is getting his second wind....SUNSET FLIP BY ROTH! ONE! TWO! THREE--NOOOO! [Getting up, Roth turn...right into a massive Destiny kitchen sink, sending him flipping over and to the mat hard.] DD: So much for that. JR: Roth tried to fight back but once again Destiny caught him and stopped him in his tracks. He has Roth down again, lifting him up...and...whatpower--GORILLA PRESS! "THWAAAAAAAAAAACK!" OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! DD: And drops him right across the top turnbuckle. That'll snap a vertebrae or two, rupture a disk, give you a hernia and just damn well hurt in a billion places. JR: That was pretty damn amazing. Roth isn't a whole lot smaller then Destiny but he actually managed to lift him straight over and drop him right across with that snake eyes. Jamie Roth is in all kinds of trouble...it's going to take a miracle to pull out of this one. DD: Miracles don't exist hence he shall die now. "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [And Destiny tries to make that happen, hooking and dumping Roth with a HUGE overhead belly to belly suplex. Almost lazily Destiny gets back up, draping an arm across Roth for the pinfall attempt.] ONE! TWO! THRE--KICKOUT! [SHOCKED POP!] JR: HE KICKED OUT!? DD: Apparently. Destiny seems as shocked as we are. JR: Shane Destiny picking him up again.... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" ...EXPLODER! Jamie Roth landed high in his back with that one...and another pin! ONE! TWO! THREE--KICKOUT! [HUGE POP!] JR: Jamie Roth will not stay down for anything! Is he going to shock the world and beat Shane Destiny twice in a row? DD: ..... JR: Destiny pulling him up again, whips him into the corner and charges...ROTH CATCHES HIM! SPINNING HEADSCISSORS! [Both go down, Destiny getting to his feet quick and with an echoing SMACK catches Roth flush with a superkick. Roth simply collapses, Destiny pulling him up and into a front headlock... "THUUUUUUD!" and DDT'ing him hard into the mat, not letting go and getting up with the front headlock still intact!] DD: This is going to be good. JR: Destiny holding on to that headlock...[THUD!] SNAP SUPLEX...holds on... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [HEEL POP!] DD: He is killing Roth. JR: BIG brainbuster and Destiny is still holding on folks. He is holding on and pulls Roth right back up again, lifts....[THUUUD!] GOURDBUSTER--DRAGON CLUTCH! DD: Look where he has him! Right in the middle of the ring! It couldn't be any more perfect! JR: He has him and has him trapped...wrenching...pulling... [DING!! DING!! DING!!] [BOOOOOOOOO!] JR: ROTH TAPS! DD: WHOOOOO! AH: The winner of the second fall and making this match tied at one fall.... "SWEET DREAMS" SHANE DESTINY!!!!!! [The crowd hates him for it, getting on his case as he releases, quickly moving to his corner where he takes a deep drink of water.] JR: And he ties it up in dominant fashion. I may not like it but I have a feeling this is something Jamie Roth isn't going to be able to come back from. DD: A feeling? Indigestion is a feeling. Getting kicking in the nuts and wanting to puke is a feeling. Jamie Roth losing and leaving us happily forever is the truth! JR: The ref is giving them their one minute break in between falls, allowing each to get a rest...AND SHANE DESTINY ATTACKS! [HEEL POP as Destiny attacks a kneeling Roth, still talking to Angie. He wraps Roth, stretching back once again with the Destiny Strangle! Roth cries out in pain, tapping the mat furiously!]] DD: DESTINY WINS! YES! JR: No he doesn't, Dirk! The referee never started the final fall. The bell never went and while Roth may be tapping, this submission doesn't count! DD: Biggest...rip off...ever. JR: Destiny sure seems to think so. He is right in Francois's face, letting him have it. [Roth struggles to his feet as Destiny and the referee argue, Destiny finally having had enough and letting the ref be. Eli calls for the bell and finally things are officially underway.] JR: Roth is holding onto that top rope...SLEEPER BY DESTINY! Destiny has him around the neck and once again the ref is right there, forcing Destiny to break the count. He better watch it, Dirk, or this fall could end up in a quick DQ...and win for Jamie Roth. DD: A disqualification in...GIW? I don't think so there jack-o. The ref can count his five, Destiny will let go, he knows the rules. JR: He isn't letting go, he is tearing Roth away from those ropes... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [HEAD DROPPAGE POP!] ...AND DROPS HIM ON HIS SKULL WITH A SLEEPER SUPLEX! DD: Holy god, that was sick as shit. [Unmoving, Roth seems like easy prey but instead Destiny clambers to his feet, stomping and kicking at the upper back and neck of Jamie Roth, furthering the damage to his neck. The referee is powerless, the assault continuing until Destiny pulls him up by the hair to his feet.] JR: Roth is pulled back up...grabs the ropes for some measure of protection. He doesn't want to be dropped on his head again, that would be _the_ end. DD: The chickenshit is holding on to them ropes like it's his last meal. [Then...in another show of insane pound for pound power Destiny digs in, wraps the waist and forces Roth from the ropes, sending him flipping over backwards with a Shuttle Loop Buster, Roth landing front first and just laying there. The crowd reacts accordingly, hating Destiny and loving Roth but in awe of the suplex.] JR: DAY-UM! What a suplex by Shane Destiny! DD: And that's all she wrote. ONE! TWO! THREE! [Or not...BIG POP!] JR: ROTH KICKS OUT! JAMIE ROTH KICKS OUT! DD: WHA?! WHA?! WHA?! JR: ....what in the hell was that? DD: No fricking way that guy kicked out. That's it, I demand a drug test. JR: Yeah, our roster would really pass that just fine *rolls his eyes* DD: Hmm...good point. [Quite upset at the unexpected kickout, Destiny punches Roth in the chest, grabbing his arms and flipping him back onto his stomach, crossing the arms in front of his neck and wrenching back with all he has.] JR: Straight Jacket suplex by Destiny, again working that neck, setting up for either the Destiny Strangle or for his Air Raid Crush, both moves aimed at that very body part. DD: Textbook baby! JR: Shane Destiny is a spectacular pure wrestler and loves working that neck and stretching Roth. No way Roth can take more of this...no way. [Struggling in the very painful hold, Roth starts moving his feet, trying to get them anywhere near the ropes, hoping for a break. Destiny will have none of it though, pulling him back into the middle of the ring and forcing back on the hold once again.] DD: He's dead! Roth is going to be broken in friggin' half! Destiny is leaning back with all his weight, just stretching the living shit out of Roth. Love it. JR: Destiny calling for the submission, calling for Roth to quit [POP!] Roth gets the ropes out of nowhere! The referee is forced to break the hold and I can tell you Shane Destiny doesn't like it one bit. DD: Do you think that is going to stop him at all? Hell, he's already picking Roth up and going to work again. JR: That he is. Roth is in the corner, Destiny leaning back and driving a back elbow, hitting right on target. Jamie Roth is in big time trouble. I've said it once and I'll say it again. He needs to get out of this and get back on track. [Destiny pours it on, laying in with forearms across the chest and backelbows across the jaw, stunning Roth further. This allows Destiny to back off, walk across the ring and charge... ...and to find no one home, Roth moving and grabbing Destiny as he bounces backwards from the turnbuckles...rolling him up to a HUGE POP!] ONE! TWO! THRE--KICKOUT! [BIG AUDIBLE "OH, ALMOST!" POP!] JR: Roth almost got the huge upset pin there. In matches like this they can come out of nowhere and it almost did! Both men on their feet, Roth slower...and Destiny sneaks in a stiff boot to the gut. DD: Screw the pin when you can drop people on their heads. JR: Gutwrench... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [HEEL POP!] JR: SQUARE DRIVER! He plants Roth on his head once again, quickly up and to the corner. DD: This is something we don't normally see, Destiny looking up top. JR: Both men are pulling out everything they have to win this one. Some might fight for titles or glory or revenge but these two are fighting for their careers and lives and that right there will motivate anyone. [Quickly ascending the top turnbuckle, Destiny perches atop, leaping with a diving headbutt that finds it's mark...the back and neck of Jamie Roth. Destiny rolls him over, going for a lateral press.] ONE! TWO! THRE--KICKOUT! [POP!] JR: And Jamie Roth kicks out again. This kid has a ton of fight in him, Dirk. DD: His 'fight' is getting dropped all over the place. He has no chance at all, Destiny is just toying with him now. JR: Shane Destiny is picking Roth up again [THUD!] Snap suplex, holds on... [THUD!] ANOTHER! Two snap suplexes by Destiny, floating over for the cover. ONE! TWO! THR--KICKOUT! [And AGAIN a big pop as Roth fights through it all, getting a shoulder up.] JR: He won't stay down! Destiny is throwing everything he has at him and nothing is keeping him down for that oh so elusive three count. Destiny's staying on him though and pulling him back up. DD: Surely for another suplex. JR: Irish whip...lariat...Roth ducks...comes off the otherside...baseball slide... [BIG POP!] ...SLEEPER! DD: Wow, I'm back in the seventies. JR: Jamie Roth has that sleeper locked on Destiny and locked on good. You can't suplex someone when you're being choked out. DD: Don't tempt Shane to prove you wrong. [Roth holds on tight, doing what he can to choke the life out of Destiny and finish him off for good. The bigger man struggles, trying to reach for the ropes, finally settling with shifting to the side and pushing Roth towards the ropes. On the return he takes a swing, Roth ducking and once again locking on the sleeper to a TREMENDOUS POP!] JR: He has it on again and this time Destiny isn't getting out so easy! DD: This is the cheapest way he could have went about it. He couldn't pin him or beat him wrestling so he had to put him to sleep. You know, Jacob, it might have been easier if Roth did more promos. Everyone would be asleep then. JR: Destiny is about to go asleep here. [That he does, slumping in the standing Roth's grip, arms hanging weakly at his side. Roth continues to hold tight, Angie smiling and cheering from ringside, pounding the mat in support.] JR: The crowd can feel it! They know Destiny is about out and...and the ref is checking on Destiny! He thinks he might be done, lifts the hand....IT FALLS! [POP!] JR: Destiny is out...lifts it again...IT FALLS! [BIG POP!] JR: One more time, Dirk, one more time! DD: Ugh. JR: Destiny is done, Jamie Roth is going to send him packing from Grand Isle... The hand is lifted... It... It... Fal-- "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! [From NOWHERE Destiny shifts and wraps Roth, taking him down with a back suplex, the force releasing the hold, both men down on the mat much to the displeasure and shock of the raucous crowd.] DD: Oh you can't suplex someone from there you say? You say?! He proved you wrong boy...WRONG! JR: Destiny shocked me, Dirk. He took down Roth, escaped that sleeper, the sleeper that would have ended this match and his career here. But...but remember, both men are down right now, both are hurt. DD: For now. They just need to recover and, trust me, the safe bet is that Destiny will get up first. JR: Both are moving, Destiny still groggy, Roth clutching at what has to be a terribly pained neck and moves first...Destiny catches him...[SMACK!] HEADBUTT! Destiny can't hit the belly to belly , Roth... "SMAAAAAAAAACK!" --STEP UP ENZUIGUIRI CONNECTS! [Destiny goes down hard from the impact, trying to get up on shaky feet, nearly falling over several times as he does. Roth sees his opportunity and charges at him...gets caught... GASP~! ...thrown overhead, landing awkwardly on the floor several feet out! The crowd ERUPTS into mad chanting, loving every minute of the match!] G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! G-EYE-DUB! JR: A BELLY TO BELLY TO THE FLOOR! WHAT A COUNTER! DD: Courtesy one Shane Destiny. I am telling you pal, he's the wrong guy to be cheering, no way you can win. Hell, no way he can win...ever. JR: Shane Destiny pulled the proverbial rabbit out of the hat there, taking out Jamie Roth for the time being. DD: Oh come on, look at it . Destiny isn't going to let him just lay there. He's already rolling to the outside, fighting through the pain and going after Roth, surely to help him back in the ring. JR: Uh...huh. [Following Roth out, Destiny grabs him, slamming his head hard into the timekeepers table, the sound of skull on wood a dull thud. Roth stays on his feet somehow, victim of another head ramming, this time into the apron. Roth slumps to one knee, Destiny stepping back to catch his breath and jaw with some fat guy at ringside.] JR: Jamie Roth is really taking a beating out there. Destiny staying on him, whips him... REVERSE [THUD!] AND DESTINY HITS THE POLE! [POP!] DD: OK, enough comebacks jackass. You had your time, let Shane kill you now. JR: Jamie Roth is still in this! He still has a fighting chance...and a chair! Jamie Roth has a chair and has it sitting at ringside, Destiny getting up...[THWAAAAAAACK!] DROP TOE HOLD ONTO THE CHAIR! [The crowd erupts as Destiny's head bounces off the steel, the suplex machine landing on the floor beside it. Roth kicks the chair out of the way, shaking off the match thus far before climbing up onto the apron. Destiny sees this and follows up, wrapping a leg of Roth...the free one whipping out and sending Destiny backwards.] JR: Destiny up...ROTH! [HUUUUUUUUUGE POP!] DD: Damn! [And as gracefully as that Roth leaps up and off the middle rope, flipping and landing on Destiny with as graceful a moonsault you could see from a man who's been dropped on his head forty times tonight!] JR: WHAT AN ASAI MOONSAULT FROM JAMIE ROTH! DD: That punk actually managed to get up like that after the beating he has received? JR: Damn rights he has and he is managing to get Destiny back in the ring right now. This could be all over-- ONE! TWO! THRE--KICKOUT! [Awwwww.] JR: If he hadn't have taken so much time between the moonsault and the pin he could have very well won this match! Both men are tired, exhausted, beaten...battered. It's going to take something really big to win this won me thinks. DD: Well you thinks wrong. Destiny can finish this at any time...he's just putting on a good show for the people. JR: I won't argue with that. This match has been great so far. Roth getting up, Destiny trying to recover himself..and Roth helps him to his feet... "SMACK" WHOOOOOO! ...WITH A CHOP! [Undaunted...and angry, Destiny fires back with one of his own.] "SMACK" WHOOOOOO! [Roth leans back from the impact, whipping out another chop!] "SMACK" WHOOOOOO! [Destiny!] "SMACK" WHOOOOOO! [Roth!] "SMACK" WHOOOOOO! [Destiny!] "SMACK" WHOOOOOO! JR: These two are chopping the hell out of each other in there...Destiny tackling Roth, trying to lift him over his shoulders for his Air Raid Crush, Roth firing down elbows. This is breaking open, Dirk! DD: Destiny did the best thing he could. Get in close, where you do the most damage. Roth is just asking for an ass beating now. JR: Roth is stopping Destiny from getting him over... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" ..HUGE URANAGE FROM DESTINY! ONE! TWO! THREE! [POP!] JR: ROTH KICKS OUT! DD: Slooooooooooooooooooow count! Roth was done, dammit, done! JR: Roth was driven hard into the canvas. Destiny up and hooking him in a front headlock...he's signaling for the Destiny Strangle! DD: It's so over. [He lifts for his front layout suplex, the precursor and is about to drop when Roth hooks _him_ and falls, rolling into an inside cradle! SHOCKED POP!] JR: THE PIN! ONE! TWO! [Destiny kicks out and Roth rolls away, running and leaping. He wraps is legs upside down around the legs of Destiny, taking him over in a double leg roll clutch! POP!] ONE! TWO! JR: DESTINY KICKS OUT! ROTH UP...BACKSLIDE!! [ANOTHER HUGE POP!] ONE! TWO! [And again Destiny kicks out! Roth is quickly up, waiting for Destiny and when he sees his chance he takes it, running and leaping onto the shoulders of Destiny, sitting on top of them and...] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [DISAPPOINTED POP!] JR: OHHHHH! Roth was going for a victory roll and Shane Destiny absolutely FLATTENED him with an iconoclasm from his shoulders! This is all over. ONE! TWO! THREE... [LOUD FACE POP!] JR: He kicked out! Jamie Roth refused to lay down after being stopped in the middle of that roll he was on! DD: Hey, Shane isn't done. JR: No he isn't. He's lifting Roth back up and into the corner...and onto the top! I don't even need to tell you what's coming next. DD: Love it. [Climbing up after him, Destiny hooks his head and lifts...only to be stopped by a solid shot to the ribs. Roth slams another fist..and another, Destiny stopped by the impact. Another punch...then another...then another and soon Destiny is reeling... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" OHHHHHHHHHHH! ...and down as Roth flips over, slamming him backfirst with a sunset flip cum powerbomb!] JR: ROTH COMING OUT OF NOWHERE AGAIN-- ONE! TWO! THREE-- [BOOO!] --BUT TO NO SUCCESS! DD: Of course not! Shane Destiny is just WAY to much for him to handle. He has a zero chance here pal! ZERO! [Picking up Destiny, Roth pulls him to the ropes, visibly exhausted. Shaking out the pain he whips Destiny, turning and swinging with a clothesline...that is ducked. Destiny comes off the other side, leaping with a desperation flying forearm that connects right on target, sending Roth down.] JR: Destiny puts Roth down, turning this match around AGAIN. Roth trying to get up, clutching at his face...SPEAR! SPEAR! SPEAR! DD: And broke him in fricking half! JR: Destiny still on Roth, the ref making the pin! ONE! TWO! THREE! [BIG ASS FACE POP!] JR: NO! HE KICKED OUT! JAMIE ROTH KICKED OUT! DD: No he never! That was an obvious three count! [And to a BIG POP the referee shoots TWO fingers into the air, showing Destiny he was _this_ close to winning, Roth having got his shoulder up...barely. The camera changes to Angie at ringside, her hands covering her face in shock and joy.] JR: Shane Destiny was SO close to winning this very, very important match! He can feel it, Dirk, it's within his grasp! DD: He's what...oh, the match and winning it. I was thinking...um....I'll shut up. JR: Please, do. [Destiny gets up, pulling the dazed Roth with him and locking him a front chancery. Without warning he lifts him and DROPS him with a front layout suplex, the crowd on their feet as...] JR: DESTINY STRANGLE! HE HAS IT LOCKED IN DIRK! THIS MATCH IS OVER! DD: Damn rights it is you fricking banshee. This is the deadliest of deadly submission moves and Roth's neck, his poor, little, mashed up neck is going to be broken. JR: Jamie Roth is trying to fight it, he is trying to resist but this is too much. [The camera focuses in on the strained, pained face of Jamie Roth as he is locked in the hold, his damaged neck being bent in a manner that isn't natural. Pain and nausea washes over him, his face pale. He raises his hand, the ref right there checking for the tap. He raises it....drops it... ...but refuses to tap, balling it into a fist as he begins to shake, the crowd right behind him! Angie pounds the mat at ringside, the fans clapping right along with her as Roth struggles in the hold, looking for an escape or better yet, a rope break!] JR: Roth is fighting it, Dirk. Shane Destiny already got the submission once with this hold, but this time Roth won't quit. he won't give in. DD: He doesn't have a choice. Either he gives up or he dies. JR: He won't give up and dammit, Dirk, he's fighting! He's inching to those ropes! He is bound and determined to get the ropes and get out of this hold... [HUGE POP!] ...AND HE DOES! JAMIE ROTH GETS THE ROPES! [The crowd blows up, en fuego as Roth rolls out of the ring, clutching at his neck as Destiny argues toe to toe with Francois. Angie quickly tends to her man, checking on him and whispering close to him. Destiny rolls out right after him, chasing Angie away and rolling Roth back into the ring and into the corner.] JR: Destiny laying some more forearms into Roth. Backs off across the ring and charges...RUNNING KNEE--MISSES! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [AGHAST POP as Roth leaps up from behind Destiny, leaps onto his shoulders and flips backwards, sending Destiny crashing headfirst into the mat!] DD: What in the hell was that! JR: A reverse hurricanrana, Dirk and it could have broken Shane Destiny's neck! Sick, just sick! DD: He tried to kill him, Jacob! He tried to kill Shane Destiny. He should be disqualified and fired from the entire world of wrestling! JR: I told you they would do anything and everything to pull off a win and they are doing just that. Roth is getting back up, Destiny must be wondering what the hell hit him but is getting up somehow, fighting through the pain. He charges in, Destiny unaware...OR NOT! HE CATCHES ROTH--HOT SHOT! HOT SHOT ON THE TOP ROPE! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" DD: GERMAN! JR: And he holds on! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" JR: Another...he rolls... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [POP!] JR: ...into a fourth!! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [FIVE!] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" DD: Damn! JR: FIVE!...and he is STILL GOING! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [CROWD: SIX!] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" JR: SEVEN! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [EIGHT!] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [NINE!] "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" [TEN! The place EXPLODES as Destiny rolls away from the last suplex, exhausted from the effort. Roth, laying near the ropes, is pulled out by Angie. Destiny spins over to go for a pin...only to see Roth not in the ring! His face turns red in anger as he slides out, groggy himself, pulling Roth back up and into the ring. Roth barely moves himself, the entire crowd still on fire from the ten German suplexes in a row.] DD: Shane Destiny absolutely rules me. When was the last time you saw anyone suplexed ten times in a row? JR: He absolutely obliterated Jamie Roth with those German suplexes. Roth isn't even moving, he's just lying there and, Dirk, Destiny senses the end. He sense it is over, lifting him... DD: Look at Roth! He's not even moving at all. He is so dead limp that Destiny is having trouble picking up for the finish! JR: Destiny is trying but Roth won't go...Destiny drops him and goes for the pin. ONE! TWO! THREE! JR: Not yet! Roth kicked out! [Destiny doesn't get up, instead forcing down hard for the pin.] ONE! TWO! THREE! DD: There we go! JR: Not yet, Dirk! Roth kicked out! The ref is signaling a two...and Destiny hooks the leg this time. ONE! TWO! THREE! [The crowd EXPLODES as it looks like Roth is done...but isn't!] JR: Is it going to take a fricking train to keep this guy down?! Jamie Roth will not quit for no one or nothing. DD: But is his career really worth it. JR: Well it must be or he wouldn't be busting his ass and risking life and limb to not be beaten. Destiny knows this. He knows he needs to finish this and do it big. He's lifting Roth again and this time gets him up...over his shoulder...AIR RAID--ROTH SLIPS OUT! [Sliding down, Roth takes over Destiny in a quasi sunset flip, hooking his legs for the pinfall!] ONE! TWO! THREE--KICKOUT! [The exhausted Destiny kicks out and quickly grabs Roth's legs, flipping and bridging down on him for a pinfall of his own.] DD: OVER! ONE! TWO! THREE! JR: NO IT'S NOT! Roth kicks--BRIDGE! DOUBLE BRIDGE! [Both men bridge upwards, twisting as they do. Destiny keeps it going until Roth is leaning over his back and then stands up, holding Roth upside down!] DD: AIR RAID CRASH! [Destiny lifts... ...spins... ...and has Jamie Roth, maybe more, slip from his grasp yet one more time!] JR: ROTH ESCAPES...HOOKS... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" JR: SHOEGAZER! SHOEGAZER! JAMIE ROTH HITS THE SHOEGAZER! ONE! TWO! THREE! [DING!! DING!! DING!!] [MONSTER OF ALL SHOCKED POPS!] JR: HE WINS!! JAMIE ROTH WINS!! HE WINS!! AH: YOUR WINNER... JAMIE ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! DD: WHAT?! THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING! JR: What a HUGE upset! Not many people expected Jamie Roth to be able to defeat Shane Destiny, especially considering the beating he took in this match but he did it! He hit the Shoegazer and picked up a huge, huge win! [Roth, to his knees, raises his hands in victory, yelling out a cry of happiness as Angie runs into the ring and embraces him, wrapping her arms around his body. The two embrace, Shane Destiny still done, having rolled away to the corner.] DD: Wait...this means...oh no...NOOOOOO! JR: This means Shane Destiny is gone from Grand Isle Wrestling, Dirk. As much as it pains me to say it, I don't really wanna see him go. He was one hell of a competitor and I wish him the best wherever he goes. [Using the ropes, Shane Destiny pulls himself up, his face devoid of emotion...drained. Roth and Angie continue to hug in the middle of the ring, tears streaming from Angie's face as the _ENTIRE_ arena applauds the effort of BOTH men with everything they can. Destiny shakes his head and walks towards Roth, staring him straight in the eye, Angie stepping behind her boyfriend.] JR: Come on guys this is over. We don't need this. [And then it happens. Shane Destiny, out a job, extends his hand...and Roth returns it, the two embracing each other in a show of sportsmanship and dignity.] PLEASE DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T GO! JR: These fans are giving their sentiment despite what happened in this match, despite what has happened in the past and despite what he has done and said. They know a star, a great athlete when they see one and are showing it right now. DD: I definitely don't want to see him go...but at least he's doing it in style. [Sliding out of the ring, Destiny walks down the aisle, exchanging high fives with fans as Roth and Angie celebrate once more in the ring.] JR: Shane Destiny, we appreciate all you've done for the Grand Isle.. best wishes on wherever your journey takes you my friend. DD: Here here. [Fade in to the locker room of Bobby Taylor, moments after his match on the last edition of GIW television. Taylor storms through the door, his hair soaked with sweat and his eyes burning with rage. As he spots the camera, he turns quickly towards it.] BT: Think they got the message? [Taylor smirks.] BT: I told you all I wasn't to be [BLEEPED] with. I told you all I was someone to be respected... to be feared. Bad Eye McBaine fears me. [The Outlaw chuckles.] BT: He may not admit it... he may not even know it yet. But he fears me. And someday... ... someday the whole world's gonna find that out, champ. [Taylor throws his duster down.] BT: One body in the hospital... one more to go. Dave [BLEEPING] Bryant. [Taking a seat, Taylor shakes his head.] BT: I don't even know what to say, Doc. I've got no beef with you really. I understand you think I'm the quick and easy path to someone giving a damn if you live or die. I understand you think I'm the stepping stone to someone noticing you exist. But it ain't gonna happen, Dave. It's just not gonna happen. [Taylor leans back against the metal lockers.] BT: One body down... one more to go. See you in the Bayou, Doc. [Fade to black.] DD: I would hate to be Dave Bryant right now, Jake. JR: Same here. DD: He would be best not to show up tonight. JR: Agreed.. but men gotta do what men gotta do. DD: Hee-haw? JR: Wow.. that did come off sorta Sam Elliott-ish. DD: No doubt. JR: Well.. on that note.. let's kick it over to Antonio Hervez. [Cut to Hervez.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest ees scheduled for one fall.. with a thirty meenute time leemit.. introducing first.. [Silence...then the sound of a loud cough is heard over the PA. A few people in the crowd recognize it, and start to boo. Shortly after, a single word comes over the PA...] #Bad...# [From there, we launch full-on into Metallica's "Bad Seed", and a loud heel pop hails the arrival of the "Doctor of Love", Dave Bryant. First, his valets step through the curtain...Elena to the right, Shannon to the left. They both turn and point towards the entrance, fingers curled in beckoning gestures...then the man himself steps through the curtain, arms raised high in the air. The boos only get louder, which is fairly impressive given the size of the audience. The song reaches it's chorus as Bryant puts his arms around the waist of each valet, strutting down the aisle, the smirk plastered on his face.] AH: On his way to the ring at this time.. accompanied to the ring by Elena and Shannon [POP!!].. he weighs in tonight at 218 pounds and he hails from Las Vegas, Nevada.. here is.. "THE DOCTOR OF LOVE" DAVE BRYANT!!!!!!! #Swing the noose again Pierce the apple skin Bit more than you need Now you're chokin' on the bad seed On the bad seed... Ahh, chokin'!# [Big time boos! The trio reaches the ring, Elena and Shannon climbing up the ringsteps and parting the ropes for the Doctor, who steps through, keeping one boot on the middle rope so the ladies can step in easily. Dave makes his way to the center of the ring, then holds his arms out to his sides. Elena and Shannon proceed to remove the black silk robe, revealing a pair of royal blue tights, black kneepads, and black wrestling boots. The robe is handed off to a ringside attendant as Bryant, Elena, and Shannon stand in the center of the ring, the two women with an arm each around his waist. Dave simply grins, his arms folded in front of him. After a brief pose, the ladies make their way out of the ring and Dave stretches his arms out and rolls his shoulders, getting ready for action.] AH: And his opponent.. [Suddenly, AC/DC's "Back In Black" starts up to a huge pop from the GIW faithful that know it can only the mean the entrance of one man... "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor. Taylor storms through the entryway, a scowl plastered across his face. He pauses for a moment, in his usual black jeans, black boots, and of course, capped with the trademark black Stetson. Taylor shakes his head at the cheering fans before making his way to the ring, rolling under the bottom rope.] AH: In the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 270 pounds and he hails from Phoenix, Arizona.. here is.. "THE OUTLAW" BOBBY TAYLOR!!! [BIG TIME MIXED POP!! as Taylor doesn't bother to acknowledge the fans.. just stares intently across the ring at Bryant who smirks.] ----------------------------------------------- Nightmare in New Orleans: Singles Match!!!!!!! Bobby Taylor vs. Dave Bryant Written By: Chris Buse ----------------------------------------------- [Taylor eyes Bryant, as Bryant prances around the ring once more...carefully avoiding getting too close to Taylor, as he stops, and winks in Taylor's direction.] JR: What the hell? DD: I knneeeeeeeeeeew it! [Ding!! Ding!! Ding!!] JR: This match is officially under way...and there goes Taylor! Bryant's pissed off the Outlaw one last time! [Bryant fires off at Taylor...who slides underneath his momentum, lifting Taylor into the air, and dropping him neck first onto the top rope, hot shotting Taylor around the ring, who clutches his neck.] JR: Bryant used Taylor's momentum against him right there! DD: And he's lining him up now... [Taylor, still clutching his neck, whirls around, as Bryant slide steps forward...extending his foot...] ________WHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK!__________ JR: HE HIT IT! BRYANT HIT TAKE TWO AND CALL ME IN THE MORNING! DD: DEAR GOD! JR: HE'S PINNING TAYLOR! WHAT A DAMN UPSET!! ONE! TWO! THRE... [Taylor extends his shoulder, just as Francois comes down for the three. Bryant glares at Francois, in disbelief, as he shakes his head. Bryant gets to his feet, and clutches his head, shaking it the whole time.] JR: That was as close as close could possibly be folks. Bryant nearly pulled off the quickest defeat in the long and historic career of Bobby Taylor. DD: He actually had a damn plan...I'm stunned. JR: His plan was simple...use Taylor's unadulterated rage against him...use the momentum...and go for it early! He knows he can't outlast Taylor...the brawler...the machine that he is... DD: Bryant altered this match though...you goof. Taylor's in la-la land right now...and Bryant just needs to capitalize on it. [Taylor struggles to his feet, as Bryant continues to question Francois. Taylor gets to his feet, and heads to Bryant, who sees nothing. Taylor clobbers Bryant with a double ax handle, firing rights and lefts to Taylor.] JR: Taylor fires Bryant to the ropes...Bryant reverses...Bryant quickly follows with a knee lift...and just like that, Taylor's attempted momentum change has been stalled. DD: Bryant's just that much quicker then Taylor. JR: He clearly is...but one mistake..._one_ mistake...and Taylor will drop Bryant on his punk ass with that Cattlebuster! DD: Not a big fan of Bryant I see... JR: And you are? DD: Do I look like I have Down Syndrome? I think not. [Bryant quickly goes back on the attack on Taylor, stomping away on his back, grabbing the rope...firing boots to the back and stomach of Taylor, who balls up into the corner. Bryant looks around, smirking the whole time...as he gets Taylor on his feet...into the corner.] JR: Bryant fires right hands into Taylor...Taylor's really never gotten on track this match...not one single bit. Bryant whips Taylor across the ring...and _hard_ into the corner. DD: Bryant's such an arrogant little prick, ain't he? JR: He charges Taylor...Taylor lifts his leg up! He nailed Bryant in the chin! Bryant's stumbling around...Taylor hasn't moved yet. Bryant tries again! DD: I think he _does_, however, have Down Syndrome. JR: Taylor with another boot to the face! He grabbed Bryant...he fired him back into the corner...and the Outlaw's going to work on Bryant! He's firing right hands into Bryant's midsection...over and over and over...he's rockin' an' rollin' now! [Taylor brabs Bryant and whips him across the ring, following closely from behind, burying him back into the corner with a running clothesline, as Bryant slumps back into the corner.] JR: Taylor's gonna whip his ass tonight...I promise that much. Can't say I like Bobby Taylor...but he's earned my damn respect...that's for sure. [Taylor works Bryant over, as he slides him to the ropes. He fires Bryant off the ropes...but Bryant clutches the ropes as he gets there...and slides under the bottom rope...calling for time on the floor.] DD: Hey...say what you'd like...that's just smart, even for those with Down Syndrome. JR: Gotta figure it is...Bryant needs to slow that steam roller in the ring down, 'cause the momentum of this fight has clearly shifted. DD: Taylor's not gonna wait! JR: Taylor to the floor! He catches Bryant off guard...he fires rights to Bryant...and Bryant's reeling! [Taylor looks around the arena, as he cocks his right hand...but Bryant catches Taylor off guard, jabbing a thumb to Taylor's eye, as Taylor recoils. Bryant wastes no time, sliding back into the ring, as Taylor grabs at his face.] JR: Bryant with the ever scientific eye poke...little bastard. DD: Bastard? Hell...once again...Taylor's being outsmarted...and Bryant's doing what he can to keep him off guard... [Taylor gets to the ring apron...but Bryant's waiting, as he springs off the opposite side ropes, firing a shoulder block onto Taylor...who flies from the ring apron...straight onto the floor.] DD: Yet again! JR: I can't believe Bryant's dominating the pace of this match... DD: I can't believe he's not drooling on himself. JR: God damn't...he doesn't have Down Syndrome! DD: You ever seen his previous career stops? That man's 'tarded...I swear it! JR: Oh shut the hell up! [Bryant, still in the ring, arrogantly struts a tad, as Taylor struggles back to his feet. Taylor slowly attempts to climb back into the ring...but Bryant's ready, grabbing Taylor by the neck...] JR: Reverse neckbreaker over the top rope by Bryant...and Taylor's headed to the floor one more time! That looked pretty damn painful. DD: Bryant's not waiting this time... JR: It doesn't look like he is...Bryant to the top rope...he's lining Taylor up...Bobby...turn around! [And as he does...Bryant leaps into the air, arms extended...leaving just enough opening for a huge right hand to the solar plexes by Taylor, as Bryant lands to the floor, doubling over, collapsing to the floor.] JR: Taylor got 'im! That arrogant prick got nailed! DD: Excellent move by Taylor... JR: And their in Taylor's wheelhouse right now...they're on the outside...and Bryant's all alone! DD: Bryant's gonna wish like hell he had the cell line to some of his old "friends" to help save his ass... JR: Liar. DD: Ok...no one would want to save Bryant...but that's not the point! [Taylor, meanwhile, continues to whip Bryant's ass all over the outside, as Bryant staggers back. Taylor grabs Bryant up, and slams his back against the apron, causing Bryant to collapse forward in pain.] JR: Taylor's got a plan as well! DD: Work on that back...and Bryant's gonna slow down. JR: Damn right...the man's a master of taking someone out of his element...and it's not stopping tonight. [Taylor finally slides Bryant back into the ring, as he slides under the bottom rope, and gets to his feet. He gets Bryant up as well, and whips Bryant off the ropes, meeting him half way there, sending him high off he mat with a back body drop, as Bryant clutches his back.] JR: Taylor again works on the back... DD: And now he's just dropping a knee to the back...vicious son of a bitch he is... JR: Taylor's locking Bryant in a modified camel clutch now...and he's just yanking back on Bryant...pulling with all his might...this is by design Dirk...the Outlaw, to the surprise of no one...came into this with a plan... DD: And Bryant's laying flat on his stomach with his ass in the air...screaming in pain...big change in his life. JR: DIRK! FOCUS! DD: Gah. [Taylor breaks the hold, as Bryant clutches his back. Taylor walks around the ring, looking into the crowd. Taylor then bounces off the ropes, and drops an elbow into the small of Bryant's back yet again, as Bryant winces in pain...pulling himself to the ropes.] JR: This is taking it's toll on Bryant...I'll guarantee you that much. DD: Of course it is...and it changes this whole damn match. Bryant wanted the quick fix...and had it...almost. Now he'll have to really see if he can muster anything in that heart of his. [Taylor leans down, getting Bryant to his feet, in the corner. Taylor fires a few complimentary rights, before sending Bryant across the ring with anger and hate. Bryant hits the corner, and flips over the top turnbuckle...landing on his feet. The Outlaw lines Bryant up, who struggles to stay on his feet, and bounces off the ropes. He lines him up and sends him crashing hard to the mat with a massive right hand, Bryant falling to the floor.] JR: Taylor's really taken control of this one...but he's wasting precious time here, jaw jacking with some drunken idiot in the first row. [Taylor heads to the floor, flipping off the overly drunk patron, as Bryant still struggles to his feet.] JR: Taylor's stalking Bryant now... [But as Taylor looks to double ax smash that back of Bryant...Bryant resorts to the good ole stand by...] DD: EYE POKE! WICKED! JR: "Wicked" hell...he just poked a man in the frickin' eye...that's not wicked. DD: The hell it isn't...what's Taylor doing now? JR: Nothing, he's doubled over, shaking off his lack of sight. DD: _Exactly_..._WICKED_! JR: You're retarded... [Bryant fires rights and lefts in a short succession, sending Taylor back on his heels. Bryant then takes a running start...and nails Taylor in the face with a beautiful spinning heel kick on the floor, both men now out.] JR: BRILLIANT MOVE BY BRYANT! WHAT ATHLETICISM...! DD: He nailed Taylor in the jaw...pretty damn impressive for a man with Down Syndrome. JR: Yes, it was impressive, but he doesn't frickin' have Down Syndrome...for the last time! DD: Whatevah! Whatevah! I'll think what I want! JR: Oh Lord...back to the match...please God. Bryant's first to get to his feet...but not by much...Taylor's getting up as well...and Bryant's on the advantage...he's working over Taylor with right hands... DD: Bryant's gotta fight off the early effects of Taylor working his back over...and he's gotta use his speed advantage...he's just gonna have to find the way to get it done...period. [Bryant catches Taylor off guard again...but as he swings, Taylor blocks, and recoils a right hand. Bryant tries again, and gets the same result, as he gets sent back onto the edge of the ring. Taylor attempts to hit Bryant again, but Bryant swings underneath, and plows Taylor with a massive right, Bryant quickly sliding Taylor under the ring, and back into the ring.] JR: That's just what he's doing...and I don't blame him for one second...that's his only chance here. Taylor's to his feet...but here comes Bryant! [Bryant slingshots over the top rope...and attempts to catch Taylor off guard....but Taylor catches him...] ________THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!__________ JR: SPINEBUSTER! SPINEBUSTER BY TAYLOR! HE'S PINNING BRYANT... ONE! TWO! THREE... [Bryant gets his shoulder out at the last second, the spinebuster clearly working it's toll.] JR: Taylor can't believe it....so very close...Taylor's pissed too! He's barking at Francois...he just flipped Francois off...and now he's mounting Bryant... DD: ...not the first for Bryant, obviously... JR: He's firing rights and lefts at Bryant's face...Francois's counting him off...but he's not breaking it...he pulled Taylor off! Taylor wouldn't stop! DD: Taylor's showing his ole friendly self here, or so they'd say it from his "whereabouts"... JR: Taylor's all in Francois's face right now...and he's barking like mad. He needs to show some restraint here...and some focus...that's for sure. [While Taylor barks, Bryant struggles to his feet, and lines Taylor up. Bryant takes himself off the ropes and as Taylor turns around, Bryant sends him to his back with a knee lift.] JR: That's what I'm talking about...Bryant out of nowhere caught him sleeping...and now he's gotten the momentum back yet again... [Bryant quickly mounts Taylor, and returns the favor, wailing away on the face of the Outlaw, as Francois repeats the same process.] JR: Turn about _is_ fair play in this scenario...as Bryant just gave Taylor a taste of his own medicine...and it seems these two are about to throw any sort of rules out the damn window. DD: What would you expect...they're making this pretty damn personal...like this has been since the first day Taylor showed his face in this company. JR: Gotta believe this one's about more then just a dubbya...this one's pretty damn personal. [Bryant gets Taylor to his feet, and slumps his neck over the middle rope, as he fires rights to the back of Taylor...Bryant grabs the top rope...and slingshots over the top rope...dropping a leg drop to the back of Taylor's head, sending Taylor recoiling back into the ring, clutching his neck.] JR: What a vile move by Bryant...he coulda broken Taylor's damn neck. DD: I told you...this is personal now...there's no move too vile...no way to go "too far"... [Bryant struggles back into the ring, clutching his leg, as he gets to his feet...Taylor still clutching his neck. Bryant drops to the ground, and locks both hands around Taylor, double choking the Outlaw in the center of the ring. He breaks the hold quickly, as Taylor grabs at his neck once more. Bryant quickly off the ropes, bounces off, and drops to the gut of Taylor with a quick senton on Taylor. Bryant rolls back over, and attempt to pin Taylor...] ONE! TWO! THRE... JR: KICK OUT BY THE OUTLAW! DD: It's gonna take more then that by El Drooling Boy to pin the frickin' Outlaw...I'll guarantee that. JR: And Bryant's gonna see if he can get it done now. He climbs to the top turnbuckle...and lines Taylor up...Bryant leaps off... [A few people who have the money to purchase a camera...light up the ring as Bryant flies through the air...landing a text book guillitone leg drop, directly across the neck of Taylor.] JR: GORGEOUS LEG DROP BY BRYANT! He covers Taylor...Dirk this might be it! DD: DOUBTFUL! ONE! TWO! THREE... JR: NO! NO! OUTLAW! AGAIN! DD: Christ...what did I tell you, you idiot? JR: I don't know what all it will take to beat the Outlaw tonight folks...but it's gonna take more then what The Doctor of Love's brought to the table right now. [Bryant gets to his feet, and stomps the mat in anger. He begins to head to Taylor...who quickly rolls out of harm's way, as Bryant stomps the mat in frustration. Bryant corners Taylor in the corner, and begins to stomp away at the midsection of Taylor, as Taylor attempts to block out the pain. Bryant gets Taylor up and begins to work over Taylor something vicious!] "WHAP!" "WHAP!" "WHAP!" "WHAP!" JR: Vile chest chops by Dave Bryant..and the Doctor has made a house call, to the house of pain...and he's treating Bobby Taylor with his prescribed dose! DD: Did you realize, while saying that, how frickin' retarded you sounded? Seriously? That's one of the most retarded things you've ever said. Have you been eating crayons? JR: Dammit Dirk! Focus! DD: I AM! You crayon eating bastard! JR: Bryant whips Taylor far side...and follows with a clothesline, as he pulls Taylor to the mat. Bryant's heading up top once more! [Indeed he does, as Taylor rolls around the mat, Bryant sets his sights on the prone Taylor, as he leaps off...he balls his fist up...and tilts his body...] JR: FIST DROP! BRYANT SPIKED TAYLOR! THIS COULD BE IT! HE'S GOING FOR THE COVER...AND THE WIN! ONE! TWO! THREE... JR: TAYLOR AGAIN! [Bryant slaps the mat in frustration once more, as Taylor rolls around the mat, clutching at his face. Bryant gets up and questions Francois as to the speed of the count, but Francois swears it was only 2...but a hair. Taylor slowly struggles to his feet, and crawls behind Bryant, who has Francois distracted with his temper tantrum...] JR: Bryant's not looking... [And Taylor does the stereotypical thing to do in a time like this...] DD: LOW BLOW! HE PUNCHED BRYANT IN THE NARDS! JR: Damn..._that_ looked painful. [The crowd lets out a nice heel ovation for such a bastardly act, but that doesn't seem to phase Taylor, who rolls over on to his back, gasping for breath, and some time. Francois checks on Bryant, then begins to interrogate Taylor, who just swats him aside, and crawls over to Bryant.] JR: Taylor's heading towards Bryant...he's locking his hands around his neck...he's blatantly choking the hell out of him...and there's nothing anyone can do to stop him...nothing! Francois can't break the hold with a count...he had to pull him off again! DD: That frickin' French prick's about to be dealt with, if he doesn't watch out...I promise you that. JR: Taylor's a man possessed...he wants to reclaim his name...his once fabeled glory...the name that once stroke the fires of fear, and hesitation... DD: What in the hell are you yapping about? JR: SHADDUP! DD: Ok there sparky...calm down. JR: Taylor's back to his feet...and just like that...this match is completely different...momentum fully in Taylor's corner now. DD: Taylor's grabbed Bryant...it's make a wish time! JR: The hell it is...he just looked at Francois...and smirked... [Taylor then does a little "fistdrop" of his own...dropping a fist square into the nuts of Bryant once more, smirking at Francois, who warns him off a disqualification.] JR: That prick! He doesn't care! He's smirking at the official...smirking in the face of a sure fire disqualification...can you believe that crap? DD: Like I said...there's no level of "low" Taylor won't go to prove his point against Bryant...Bryant's not in his damn league...never has been....never will be..._period_. JR: Taylor's got Bryant to his feet, and he fires him off the ropes... _________WHAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!__________ JR: MASSIVE LARIAT BY TAYLOR! BRYANT DROPPED LIKE A SACK OF...OF... DD: Crap there sparky...crap... JR: Possibly...Taylor's not even pinning him! That arrogant ass! DD: Not arrogant...he doesn't want this to end for Bryant...not this soon...not like this...he wants to punish that little Down Syndrome prick for all the mouth yapping he's been doing. [Taylor leans down, and gets Bryant to his feet. Bryant staggers around, barely able to stay on his feet. Taylor merely fires a right hand, and drops Bryant, as Taylor cracks that legendary sour look on his face. Taylor lines Bryant up...and drops a knee across the bridge of Bryant's nose, as Bryant quickly covers his face in pain.] JR: Taylor's showing this company, ever man in the back...and our mysterious ownership group...just what the hell he's been talking about for the past few weeks. He's attacking Dave Bryant with hate...with anger...with pure unadulterated violence... DD: Do you do commercials as well? Damn man...shut the hell up once in a while...seriously... JR: Taylor's getting Bryant up...and he's put him in between his knees, in a standing headscissors...he's looking around the arena...and fires clubbing blows to the spine of Bryant...just beating the hell out of him... DD: He's gonna break his neck... JR: Taylor pulls Bryant up...and he locks him in... [Taylor just leaps into the air, off the ground, as he spikes Bryant's head off the mat with a textbook piledriver.] JR: Taylor's an animal...he's just killed Bryant...Bryant's damn near dead...I promise you that much.. DD: He's gonna finish this... JR: Arrogant cover by Taylor...just his hand over Bryant's face...here's the pin... ONE! TWO! THREEEEE.... JR: NO! NO! KICK OUT! Bryant's got some heart left, damn't! DD: What the hell? Stay down, you drooling fuzzball...don't ruin your life! JR: Taylor's eyeballing Francois again...he's looking mighty pissed...but he should blame Bryant...for kicking out...for showing he has heart! DD: For showing he's a damn retard...save yourself kid...save yourself! [Taylor leans down...and fires a few right hands at Bryant chin, rocking Bryant, before getting him to his feet...he hooks Bryant in a reverse head lock...and begins to take off...] JR: Bulldog by...wait! [Bryant's hooked his leg under the bottom rope, stopping the bulldog attempt. He fires a right hand at Taylor...and again...Taylor whirling his body around.] JR: Bryant's showing some signs of life...he's blocked the bulldog...he's got Taylor on his backheels... DD: Damn't...just let it go! JR: Bryant scoops up Taylor...belly to back by Bryant...he broke the headlock...Taylor's out on the mat...clutching the back of his head... DD: This prick won't stay down...period...he just won't... JR: Bryant's slowly getting to his feet...he's trying to turn the momentum around here...Taylor's up...Bryant fires off the ropes... [But Taylor's got his senses back, as Bryant springs off the ropes...] JR: Taylor caught Bryant off the ropes...... ___________THUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!______________ JR: POWERSLAM BY TAYLOR! HE USED HIS MOMENTUM TO SPIKE HIM TO THE MAT! He hooks the leg! ONE! TWO! THREEEEEEEE.... [Bryant throws his shoulder in the air...the best he can do...stopping another near fall.] JR: He did it again! DD: Bryant's not gonna die it looks like...time for the Outlaw to take this kid to class! JR: Taylor gets to his knees, and looks quite confused...I don't think he expected Dave by God Bryant to give him this much of a fight. DD: He should have expected that...Bryant hates him, as much as he hates Bryant...hate leads a man to do things he normally otherwise wouldn't. [Bryant struggles to his feet, as Taylor punches the mat in anger. Taylor heads over to Bryant, the hate and anger showing all over his face. He gets Bryant to his feet, as he whips him across the ring. Bryant bounces off the ropes...but surprises Taylor...in pure desperation...nailing Taylor in the face with a flying forearm.] JR: Bryant pulled something out of nothing right there! He caught Taylor off guard!! DD: He's truly not going to die...god damn! JR: Taylor's dazed...Bryant to his feet...he bounces off the ropes... ___________WWWWWWHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!!!__________ JR: Short dropkick to the face of Taylor...Taylor's out! Bryant's getting it back... [Bryant gets to his feet, quickly, and bounces off the ropes, dropping a sliding leg drop to the face of Taylor...] JR: Bryant's on fire...he'd heading to the ropes again...he won't give up what brought him to the dance...I promise that! [Bryant hoists himself to the ropes...] JR: Bryant's waiting for Taylor to get to his feet...he's lined him up...Taylor staggers up... [Bryant flings his body out...grabbing Taylor...] __________THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!____________ JR: TOP ROPE ACE CRUSHER! TAYLOR'S DOWN! BRYANT PULLED IT OUT! THIS HAS GOT TO BE IT! ONE! TWO! THRREEEEE.... [Taylor barely breaks the count, as Bryant is in shock.] JR: WHOA! Taylor broke the count! I'm stunned! DD: Why? He's the god damn Outlaw...is he supposed to just fall to any cookie cutter move? JR: Cookie cutter my ass...Bryant spiked his head...he nearly broke his damn neck... DD: And he still kicked out! [Bryant rolls over...exhausted...out of breath. Taylor, meanwhile, lays motionless, on the mat...the same...both men clearly been taken to the edge, yet neither broke down, and jumped. They're there...willing to risk it all...willing to die for their hatred.] JR: Both men are out...both men are spent... DD: Taylor's getting up first...typical for that damn warrior, I tell ya! JR: Bryant's up too... [Taylor heads over to Bryant...Bryant quickly locks Taylor up...rolling him over...] JR: SMALL PACKAGE BY BRYANT! THIS COULD BE IT!! ONE! TWO! THREEEEEEEE... JR: KICK OUT BY TAYLOR! DD: DAMN'T! [Taylor gets to his feet, as does Bryant...Taylor grabs Bryant's tights...and pulls him down...] JR: HAND FULL OF TIGHTS! ROLL UP BY TAYLOR!!!!! ONE! TWO! THREEEEEEEEEE... DD: NO! DAMN'T! JR: BRYANT KICKED OUT! TAYLOR HAD TIGHTS...BRYANT STILL KICKED OUT! [Bryant gets to his feet...staggering...Taylor gets to his feet...quickly locks him in a reverse headlock...] JR: TAYLOR'S GOT HIM HOOKED! RUUUNNINNNG BULLDOG!!!!! DD: YES! YES! YES! JR: COVER BY TAYLOR! ONE! TWO! THREEEEEEEEEEE... JR: NO! NO! NO! DD: DAMN! DAMN! DAMN! JR: What a sequence...both men...they nearly killed each other... [Bryant staggers up to his feet, leaning against the ropes to gather himself...Taylor gets to his feet, as he turns his head. He grits his teeth...and takes off...full speed...at Bryant...] JR: GOOD GOD!! [And continues through...spearing Bryant through the middle rope...both men falling to the floor..._very_ hard...] "H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T" "H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T" "H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T" "H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T" JR: THAT ABOUT SAYS IT ALL! HOLY *HIT! DD: Taylor! He speared Bryant's ass through the damn ropes! Both men! The floor! ONLY IN THE FRICKIN' GEE EYE DUBBYA...I PROMISE YOU THAT PEOPLE! ONLY! JR: That was one of the most astonishing things I've ever seen...Taylor...such hatred...he nearly killed Bryant! [The camera pans to each man...laying side by side...crumpled over...no movement...no nothing...just two warriors...wishing to hell this thing would just end. Each man exchanges a passing glance at the other...two tired to attempt to fight...much less stand on his own two feet. Bryant looks worse for the wear, as he rolls onto his stomach...he clutches his back.] JR: Neither man is moving...neither man...nothing...Francois is wondering what to do...he can't possibly count these two men out...period. DD: He'd get killed. JR: He's doing the right thing...he's checking on each man... [He checks on Bryant...who pushes him away...] JR: Bryant shoved him away! [He then checks on Taylor...yeaup...you got it...he pushes him away too...] JR: TAYLOR TOO! AND THEY'RE GETTING TO THEIR FEET! DD: These two men...driven by so much damn hate...damn...this is shocking. JR: Taylor's up first...Bryant's not far behind...RIGHT HANDS BY EACH MAN! THEY'RE FIRING AWAY AT EACH OTHER! THEY'RE TRYING TO KILL EACH OTHER! DD: Taylor's rocking away! Bryant's rocking away! JR: They're beating the hell out of each other! Right hands! Through the crowd now...beer is flying across this damn place...they're trying to kill each other. [Bryant and Taylor exchange rights and lefts on the floor, each man not giving an inch to each other...Taylor finally fires a knee to the stomach, rocking Bryant. Taylor follows up, firing right hands at Bryant who rocks back, catching himself onto a table. Taylor rears back, and takes a running start, and takes flight...] ___________CRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!__________ JR: TAYLOR JUST NAILED BRYANT WITH A LARIAT! THAT TABLE BROKE! THEY SHATTERED THAT TABLE! DD: Will these two ever stop? I doubt that...I know for sure Taylor won't! JR: They're still fighting...they're ignoring the damn pain! DD: Bryant's biting Taylor's ear! JR: Taylor recoiled back in pain!...They just crashed through a damn table...but they're still fighting! Taylor sent Bryant through that damn table...along with his damn self...and they're _still_ fighting! DD: Taylor's ear is bleeding...but he's still fighting! [They continue to brawl throughout the mess of a broken tables...and broken bottles. Bryant grabs a bottle...and throws it at Taylor...] JR: Bryant threw a damn bottle at Taylor's head! Jesus Christ! DD: Taylor ducked! JR: Taylor's got a damn piece of that table now...he's gonna try and hit Bryant with it... [But Bryant moves, and the piece of table shatters all over the floor. Bryant recoils in shock, as he looks at Taylor, his face in somewhat shock. Bryant then slams a right hand into Taylor's chin...and Taylor rocks back...Bryant gives another...as Taylor backs up yet again...closer to the ring. Bryant follows with a clothesline, as Taylor slams against the ring, as Bryant falls back in pain.] JR: That took something out of each man...Christ I don't know if they can follow up with anything more then this! DD: Bryant's sliding Taylor under the bottom rope...this could be it for the Outlaw... [Bryant staggers around the outside...heading over towards the announce table...grabbing a chair, and heading towards the ring. He slides the chair into the ring...and as he does, Francois grabs the chair, and slides it in the opposite direction. Bryant confronts the ref, as Taylor gets to his feet. Taylor charges Bryant, and lariats Bryant, but as he does...he takes the ref out with him...now all three men lay motionless in the center of the ring.] JR: EVERYONE'S OUT! EVERYONE'S DOWN! DD: Taylor was going to attempt to kill Bryant...but he hit Francois as well... [Taylor slowly rolls outside...as he drags himself over to a chair that's propped up on the ground. He grabs the chair, and slides it back into the ring, Bryant slowly getting to his feet. Francois still dazed, taking the brunt of the lariat, still out...Taylor grabs the chair, as Bryant does the same...each man cocks their respective chairs over their heads...and swings wildly...] __________CLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG!___________ "H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T" "H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T" "H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T" "H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T" JR: DEAR GOD! THEY KILLED EACH OTHER! THEY DESTROYED EACH OTHER! THEY'RE BOTH DOWN...THEY'RE BOTH OUT! THEY'VE KILLED EACH OTHER!!!! DD: ...that was incredible...that was...wow. JR: I'm speechless! Dave Bryant and Bobby Taylor just destroyed each other with steel chairs...and they're both out...they're both on the mat...laying dead on the ground! DD: Are either one of them even alive? JR: Hell if I know...hell if anyone knows...Francois is struggling to get his senses back...he's shaking off the cob webs...and he turns to see each man down...their chairs flew out of the ring...he doesn't have the slightest of clues what happened! DD: They're dead...they're _dead_. JR: Francois's up...he's got no choice...he's going to being to count them! DD: NOO! [Francois struggles to his feet, and begins to count each man, who lay motionless.] ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! [Bryant begins to stir on the mat.] SEVEN! [Taylor begins to stir as well...each man attempting to get to their feet.] EIGHT! [Bryant gets to his feet, as the count breaks...he lines Taylor up, and begins to slide step towards Taylor...] JR: BRYANT! HE'S GONNA HIT IT!!! [But as he begins to slide his foot forward...Taylor leaps into the air, sending Bryant to the mat with a shoulder block.] JR: TAYLOR PREVENTED BRYANT FROM HITTING HIM IN THE CHIN!! DD: Bryant woulda hit him square in the chin! That woulda done that! JR: Damn right it would have...now Taylor's drapping his arm over Bryant's chest...Francois for the count... ONE! TWO! THREEEEEEE... [HUGH SIGH] JR: NO! BRYANT KICKED OUT! DD: That son of a bitch. [Taylor and Bryant roll over to their backs, as each man gasps for air, neither man willing to hop to their feet, since neither man has the power to do so. Taylor slowly gets up, as does Bryant, each man using the ropes for leverage. Taylor heads towards Bryant, who puts a shoulder into Taylor's stomach. Taylor doubles over...Bryant sunset flips over Taylor...] JR: SUNSET FLIP INTO A PIN!!! BRYANT COULD HAVE HIM! ONE! TWO! THRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEE... [HUGH SIGH] JR: BRYANT NEARLY HAD HIM! DD: But Taylor kicked out he found the way! JR: Taylor struggles to his feet...Bryant's up...Bryant's heading to Taylor....Taylor stops him in his tracks with right hands...more right hands... [Taylor fires Bryant back, over and over again. Taylor grabs Bryant and fires him into the ropes...he attempts another lariat...Bryant ducks under...Bryant fires off the ropes...Taylor catches him in mid-air...] JR: Taylor caught him...RELEASE GERMAN! DD: Both men are out once again... [Taylor struggles to his feet...as Bryant does as well...] JR: Taylor's locking Bryant in his sights...Bryant stumbles over to Taylor...Taylor stomps him into the gut... [Taylor signals for it...as he hooks Bryant with a front facelock.] DD: YES! THIS IS IT! SHOWTIME! CATTLEBUSTER! JR: TAYLOR'S GOT BRYANT LOCKED UP! [But Bryant fires a series of right hands...rocking Taylor.] JR: BRYANT'S FIRING BACK! [Bryant hooks his arms around Taylor's waist...] JR: BRYANT! HE'S BROKEN THE HOLD! HE TAKES TAYLOR INTO THE AIR! DD: NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! [Bryant latches for his dear life...bending his body over, as Taylor hits the mat hard...Bryant locking on...bridging his back...locking Taylor's shoulders on the mat...] JR: BRYANT WITH A NOTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX! HE'S GOT THE BRIDGE ON!!! TAYLOR'S SHOULDERS ARE ON THE MAT! HE REVERSED THE CATTLEBUSTER!! ONE! TWO! THRRRRRRREEEEEEE..... DD: YES! TAYLOR KICKED OUT! JR: ...WOW! DD: HE KICKED OUT! JR: What a god damn match! What a god damn match! Taylor kicked out! Bryant reversed the damn Cattlebuster...he nearly had it...he nearly had Taylor! DD: SO CLOSE...BUT NOT QUITE!! JR: What a match...what a match...that's all I can say... [The camera focuses on the face of Dave Bryant...the face of a man that's done it all...the look of dejection...of desperation...the look of a man that's spent all he has in the reserves...] JR: There's a man that's proven all the critics wrong here tonight...the man that's earn the respect of this business...he's taken all the Outlaw had...and he's still here... DD: The Outlaw's not done! [Taylor slowly gets to his feet, as does Bryant...Bryant, with determination and hate in his eyes...lines up Taylor...the man that's haunted his career and his life for a very long time...and he slides towards him...Taylor whirls around...] JR: HERE IT COMES! [Taylor steps right into it...as Bryant begins to extend his leg...] DD: NOOOOOOOOOOOO! [But Taylor sidesteps Bryant, who sweeps at the thin air...missing Taylor entirely...] JR: HE MISSED! DD: YES! JR: HE MISSED! [Taylor spins Bryant around...kicking him in the stomach...] JR: BRYANT'S SET UP! DD: YEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!! [Front face lock is applied to Bryant....and Taylor lifts him up....] _________THHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!_____________ DD: YESSSSSSS! JR: CATTLEBUSTER! CATTLEBUSTER! HE NAILED IT! BRYANT'S OUT! TAYLOR WITH THE COVER! DD: NO ONE KICKS OUT OF THIS...NO ONE!!!!!!!! OOOOONNNNNEEEEE!!!!! TTTTTTTTTWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOO!!!! TTTTTTHHHHHHHHHRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [DING!! DING!! DING!!] DD: YES! JR: THE OUTLAW! TAYLOR WINS! [HUGE MIXED POP, MOSTLY HEEL EVEN!] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. the winner of the match.. "THE OUTLAW" BOBBY TAYLOR!!! [The fans continue to mostly boo as Taylor slowly gets to his feet.. stumbling back into the ropes with exhaustion as Bryant rolls to the floor.. nearly dead..] JR: Man, what a great match again! Everyone is pulling out all the stops here in New Or- [Suddenly, the lights go out. The fans scream in anticipation.] JR: What's going on? DD: What do you think? [Strobe lights kick in and John Carpenter's "Halloween" starts to blare out of the PA.] JR: Can you see anything? DD: Dammit no. Those freaky lights make my head hurt. I think I am getting a sei- hey, who is that? [Although details cannot be recognized someone has entered the ring. Someone huge. We can see the mystery man walk up to Bobby Taylor who has not yet seen the attacker. A big hand lunges for the tired "Outlaw's" throat and drags him over to the corner.] JR: I know that man. My god! DD: You mean you can recognize anything? Could somebody in the back please turn off the strobe lights!?! [Never releasing his victim the behemoth climbs to the second turnbuckle. There seems to be a moment of hesitation before he pulls Taylor up by the throat and falls with his to the mat to deliver a "superchokeslam".] JR: MEATHOOK! THAT WAS THE MEATHOOK!!! DD: What the hell are you talking about? Is that- [The music fades out and the regular lights are turned back on to reveal the identity of the attacker. He is about 6'8" tall with a heavily muscled upper body, which he shows off by wearing no shirt. The outfit consists of plain black jeans, with a knee brace over the right knee, and sneakers. His black hair is cut short in a very military-esque look. The man looks down onto Bobby Taylor who seems to be unconscious after the tough match and a chokeslam like that.] JR: It is him! DD: HOLY CHRIST!! [...] JR: OTTO "THE BUTCHER" VERHOEVEN!!! HE IS HERE IN GIW!!! DD: Hell. [Hell indeed. Verhoeven looks like a madman. His otherwise pale face is flushed red and he is actually trembling with rage as he stares at Bobby Taylor. The German Juggernaut is talking to Taylor, but the cameras only pick up German.] JR: What is he saying? DD: Let me translate: You mother[BLEEP] are going to get the [BLEEP] [BLEEP] kicked out of you by Otto "the [BLEEP] Butcher" Verhoeven! JR: Really? DD: You are such a gullible, little man. Look! [Verhoeven drags the now semiconscious Taylor to his feet and slaps him in the face, hard. He continues to berate him in German. With a wild look in his eyes he punches "the Outlaw" in the gut. As Taylor doubles over "the Butcher" loads onto his shoulders and lifts him into the air!] JR: Gorilla Press! DD: No, look! He is actually doing repeats! It is a military press slam! JR: What raw power - NO! [The announcer is cut short as he scrambles for safety when he realizes what Verhoeven is about to do! After the third repetition he walks slowly over the side of the ring and flings Bobby Taylor to the outside ... [CCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] ["HO-LY SHIT!! HO-LY SHIT!!"] ...straight through the announcer's table. There is a moment of static before the damaged mics are turned off. The camera focuses on a bloodied and battered Bobby Taylor, breath heavily as he lies face down amidst the ruins of the table. Otto Verhoeven just stands in the ring, his body tense, staring at the carnage he caused. Then, the frantic tunes of "Halloween" start up again and Verhoeven slowly backpedals, never taking his eyes off the fallen "Outlaw".] JR: MY GOD!! BOBBY TAYLOR IS LAID OUT IN FRONT OF US.. WE HAVE TO USE ALTERNATE MICS.. AND OTTO VERHOEVEN HAS DONE IT ALL!! THE BUTCHER IS HERE AND GOD SAVE OUR SOULS!! DD: This o rules, Jake, so rules! JR: Why is he here?! He has been retired for a few years now.. he lives in Germany.. what the hell brought him to the Grand Isle.. what the hell brought down his fury on Bobby Taylor?! DD: By God I have no idea. [The camera shows Verhoeven leave through the entranceway as the fans are still abuzz by the bombshell of Otto's return to wrestling, apparently. Taylor has started to awake as well..] JR: Dirk, I don't wanna be anywhere near this man when he comes to. DD: Me neither. JR: Fans.. up next is our TV title match and we are going to take you to some comments from both men involved in the contest.. and hopefully by then we'll have a table and will still be alive. DD: Amen to that. V: I hope you're ready, Jack. [We open up on a shaky, black and white shot of Rembrandt. The killer from Kyoto stands up against a black backdrop -- if it is a backdrop, as we can see what appears to be some kind of... pipes or vents or something above him. It's hard to tell, because the only light is provided by the cameraman. Rembrandt is dressed entirely in black - pants, shirt, and suitcoat - he's got his hair tied back in a ponytail, and he looks to be extremely upset.] R: I hope you're ready to feel the pain of a thousand deaths, buddy boy. I hope you're ready to have your arm ripped out of the socket and used against you, you stupid fat son of a bitch, because that is exactly what you've got coming to you. [He stares into the camera for a moment, and continues.] R: You come out and you stick your nose in my business, when you know perfectly well that, in two weeks time, I'm coming at you with both guns blazing? You realize that in two weeks... Two short weeks... You're in for the fight of your _life?_ And still, you come out, and you get in my way. Not a very good idea, City Jack. Not a very good idea at all. [It's been a long time since we've seen the Killer this upset - he's practically spitting his words out.] R: It's fitting that I'm going to be tearing you apart at the Nightmare in New Orleans, because that's exactly what this is going to be for you, boy - a nightmare. A nightmare so intense, truth be told, that it might almost be acceptable for you to soil yourself and start screaming, crying, bellowing out for Mommy Jack to come and rescue you from big bad Rembrandt. Pleading for Daddy to come and vanquish the monster underneath your bed. [Suddenly, he becomes almost... calm.] R: Luckily, I've got no problem with kicking your mother's face off, and I know it's going to take more than a warm glass of milk and a lullaby to stop me. Jack, you're dead in the water - you're a dozen kinds of dead for trying to humiliate me. You want to try and upstage me? You want to try and get my attention, show me that it's going to take more than just a broken arm to stop City Jack? All right, you dumb bastard, you have my attention. You're going to regret ever stepping up to me, but you've got my attention. You think you can prove something by coming out, broken arm and all, and attacking me? Fine. I have something to prove, too, now. [He nods.] R: Beyond just proving that I can kick the crap out of a one-armed tool, I have to prove -- I _have to_ -- that it's okay to go ahead and break his other arm. I have to prove that this [he jabs his thumb into his chest] so-called certifiable maniac is capable of rising to the top and grabbing the brass ring -- the ring that avoided me in Texas, in Knoxville, and in St. Louis. You think this is all a big joke to me? You think I'm just messing around? [He shakes his head to assure us that he's not.] R: You think you're better than me, Jack? You think you've got a snowball's chance in hell at a Nightmare in New Orleans? [He grins.] R: Fool. [Fade.] [Scene shows City Jack, sitting outside of his brick rowhome on one blazing hot Grand Isle day. Wearing a white T-shirt and jeans - both, by the way, drenched in sweat - and a straw hat, CJ's sits in a fold out chair to enjoy the day. He mops his brow with a handkerchief with his left hand and holds a can of beer in his right. As well, on his right hand is the cast that covers from the wrist to middle of the bicep.] CJ: Good God... [Jack tries to collect all the sweat soaking his face, but it's a futile effort.] CJ: It's one blastin' hot one... One big ol' steam tank out here. Ah... [Jack lifts his right arm and takes a guzzle of beer to cool him off.] CJ: I guess this is wear I go ahead, tell that there Rembrandt what's coming to him, right? [Jack pauses, looking off for a bit. His face isn't the normal happy-go-lucky demeanor, but rather on of a beaten man.] CJ: I... You know what? I ain't goin' to go that route today. Naw, I won't say that or this to that Rembrandt, talk about that there TV title I've been storin' these months, or even about there done match up in New O-leans. Naw, none of that today... [Jack mildly shakes his head.] CJ: Hot day like this, this injury here, all that talkin' that artist did about pain and such... Got me to thinkin'... Got me to thinkin' about my pops, way on back. [Jack pauses and takes another gulp of beer.] CJ: Now me, I rarely like to talk about my dad all that much while in this here business. And not cause he was some abusive drunken slob or nothin' like any of them cryin' stories you got running around here. No, no,... [Jack shakes his head.] CJ: My pops was a hero to me, probably the hero to me... Always was and always will be. Everythin' he taught me - from life, to love, to money, to just them old routine things - helped put me in the place I am today. He was a man of men, I'll tell you... [Jack nods.] CJ: "was", yeah, cause he done passed on by some time ago... [Jack pauses, swallowing his words as he's having a bit of a hard time getting it out.] CJ: But hey, he was a great man, had a great life. I knew that, he knew that, so his passin' back then was hard, but I understood. Great man, indeed... [Jack nods a bit and then takes in another bit of beer. He wipes at his brow with his equally soaked handkerchief before continuing on.] CJ: Everyday there, livin' in that house, was a lesson. All the way until I moved away to become my own man, my pops made sure to do all he could to show me what it is be a man mor-ales, respect, and just how it is... How it is to be a man, use what ya got and just go do your best. [Jack goes for his handkerchief, but decides just to use his left arm instead to mop his brow of sweat.] CJ: And I can say - and I don't know if he's up there lookin' down right now or nothing, but I can say he done did his job with me. And that's no pride or ego talking, that's just... Well, that's just what it is, what he was... [Jack nods.] CJ: But I tell ya, I remember all them stories he done tell me, about his own there past and all. And over the past week or two, I say I haven't been in good faiths, you done know. With my arm slinging up, pasted in this plaster here, all I could think was how in the helluva time I was goin' to continue. Not just even there wrestlin' day to day, but my career. [Jack scratches his dripping wet beard and then takes in another dosage of beer.] CJ: I was in one of them ol' mental funks. And this sob here, I never really thought about any of that stuff. Just always went out, good time, get paid, live my life, ya know? Well, I was thinking while gettin' me worried, and I done thought back to one of my pops' stories there. [City nods.] CJ: Now, my dad, he was in that Big One of a war, out in the Pacific. One of them grunts - though, ha, my dad never did like it when I said that... Naw, he prefered "special-elites", but he wasn't nothin' special. Just a normal man out there fightin' for his country. But anyway, he was out there on one of them there islands. He had some pals there - some from home Kentucky, some soldiers he met there on the way. It was a pretty there tight unit, friendship and all. Well, one of his friends there, a Kentuckian jus like him, did get all banged up raids or battles or somethin'. [Jack kind of shrugs with a smile.] CJ: I tell ya, my pops told this all much better, hah. But his friend there - Sam... Sam Howdon, I think so. He got a good wound there, put him out them hospitals and all. My pops would always say here that he had "pain like you'd never thunk it in your life". Leg hangin' by a string, breathin' problems, and all them nasty stuff. My dad there saw him one night in that field hospital... [Jack wipes away the sweat from his face again.] CJ: He went over to see how his bud was doin', make sure to wish him and all. But what that Howdon fella said to my pops, he said he couldn't do it. He couldn't hang on, didn't see the point of it all. He was ashamed, scared, and in so much pain he just said there he wasn't goin' to try to get well again. He didn't want to go back to war and didn't want to face home again. [Jack shakes his head.] CJ: And my dad there, he done tried to talk him out of it, but that Howdon fella, he was a stubborn ol' bat, he was. Kept on refusin, saying there was nothing there, anywhere, left for him now. But what my dad said... [Jack shakes his head again, but this time with a smile on his face.] CJ: My dad, he'd never give up on anything or anyone, I'll tell ya that. My pops, he told Sam there that there's always someone there for ya, always something there for ya. He done said that he can't give up, he can't just go ahead and blow on by on life. [City nods.] CJ: What my dad then said to Howdon still rings true to my ears... Brings me always out of the poor days. "Pain," my pops said, "Pain's just a thing your body does to tell ya it's hurtin'. Nothin' more, nothing less. The hurtin... Yeah, it feels bad, but it's not your body sayin' it wants an end. What it's telling ya is to get better, get up, and get on with livin'." [Jack nods, looking down at his arm.] CJ: Pain... It's telling ya to live. Howdon, he got better, and's livin' a full life. Heck, I called him up the other day, says he's doin' fine for an old sob like him, heh. But pain... [Jack shakes his head.] CJ: The hurtin's not going to make me give up, not goin' to make me do anythin' different than I always do. And it sure as hell won't make me apologize for anything I do or what I am. Me? [Jack takes a guzzle of a beer and smiles as he pats his cast on his right arm.] CJ: Me, I'll just have to get better, get up, and go on with livin'. That's... That's what I'll do. [Jack nods and relaxes back in his chair, sweating buckets as he cracks open a new can as the shot fades out.] [Cut back to a new table for the commentators.. both looking a bit white in the face.] JR: Well, those two are on a collision course here tonight.. but the big factor is how much of a problem will Jack's arm hinder him and his chances to keep the belt? DD: Too much. Pain ain't just pain or tellin' you you're hurtin'.. pain kicks your ass! JR: Um, ok. DD: What about Taylor? JR: Fans at home, be lucky you didn't see that mean sonofabitch when he got up.. he stormed to the back screaming for Verhoeven but it's highly unlikely he'll find him back there. DD: You never know, can't hurt to look. JR: Enough about that.. we got ourselves a title match to watch! Hervez take it away! [Cut to Hervez in the ring.] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. our next contest ees a singles match.. and eet ees for the GIW TELEVISION TITLE!!! [BIG TIME POP!!.. Introducing first.. the challenger.. # WHEN YOU'RE RIPE YOU'LL BLEED OUT OF CONTROL! YOU'LL BLEED OUT OF CONTROL! # AH: He weighs in tonight at 240 pounds.. and he hails from Kyoto, Japan.. here is.. REMBRANDT!!!!!! [HUGE HEEL POP! As "Elite" by the Deftones begins blasting over the PA system, the crowd comes to its feet with a loud roar of disapproval. Rembrandt steps through the curtain dressed in a simple black gi and black boots with red and black shinguards. His hair is tied back, and he has a look of total disgust and disdain on his face. He stops midway down the aisle, looking back and sneering -- snarling at a little boy -- before continuing down the aisle, entering the ring, and snatching the house mic away from the midget.] R: Let's go, Jack... I'll give you one last chance to come out here and face me, one last chance to come out here and apologize for how you've acted by surrendering the Television Title to me. It's the right thing for a man in your position to do -- I know it, you know it, and the half-dozen fans here tonight who passed the third grade know it. [Cheap heel pop!] R: The sooner you get out here and give me what is rightfully mine, Jack, the sooner you can go get drunk and start hitting on the finest five dollar whores New Orleans has to offer. Let's go, man, we don't have all night! AH: And his opponent.. ["Classical Gas" by Chet Atkins plays as the crowd gives a loud cheer for the GIW TV Champion. City Jack steps out of the entrance, waving his left arm to the crowd. His other arm, the right, is casted as a result of the previous Rembrandt attacks. Over CJ's shoulder is the title that only he's been able to hold here in GIW.] AH: On his way to the ring.. he weighs in tonight at 309 pounds and he hails from Liberty, Kentucky.. here is your GIW TELEVISION CHAMPION [MONSTER POP!!!].. CITY JACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [Continued Pop! Jack's dressed in a black GIW T-shirt thaat fits snugly over his wrestling singlet. Jack holds the title up as he passed by some fans, which some give light pats on CJ's cast as he passes by. A close-up on the cast shows "Beat Remmy" on it, which Jack's quick to point to with a smile. He finally gets to and into the ring and holds the title up on high for maybe the last time.] ---------------------------------------------------- Nightmare in New Orleans: Television Title Match!!! City Jack [c] vs. Rembrandt Written By: Terry Jue ---------------------------------------------------- [City Jack approaches Rembrandt with some caution, neither willing to make a first move. Remy drops down into a fighting stance, readying himself for anything. The two stare, waiting for that one moment to strike. They circle each other for a few seconds, before Rembrandt suddenly lashes out...] [POP!] JR: REMBRANDT WITH A KICK!!!! [Blocked!] JR: City Jack blocks it!!! He's firing back with left hands, rocking Rembrandt to the corner! DD: What the hell? Fat boy's a sitting duck! He shouldn't be fighting back...period! [Rembrandt is sent back into the corner, trying to fend off City Jack's sudden flurry, the crowd cheering louder with each blow. However, the champion's attack is one-dimensional and his weakness is obvious. With that in mind, Rembrandt smiles, waits for his opening and....] [HEEL POP!] JR: City Jack taking it right to Rembrandt...-NO!!! Rembrandt ducks...palm shot right to the jaw! DD: Awwwww yeah! Time to take fatty to school! [Stunned by the sudden blow, City Jack staggers back, leaving him wide open for...] ______SMMMMAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!______ [HEEL POP!] JR: Roundhouse kick right to the chest!!! Rembrandt's setting up for another... _____TTTTTTWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKK!!!!_____ Crowd: OH!!! JR: Whatta' kick!!! DD: RIGHT TO THE SHOULDER! JR: City Jack was stunned by that palm strike! He never saw it coming! A kick right to that broken arm! DD: Ding dong, the fat boy's dead! [Still not done, Rembrandt pivots on his foot, letting loose once more...] ______SMMMMAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!______ [HUGE HEEL POP!] JR: VICIOUS KICK TO THE HEAD!!! City Jack's down!!! DD: God, that was a thing of beauty. [City Jack lands hard on his side, onto his right shoulder. He immediately grabs for his arm, the pain almost unbearable. He manages to get to his feet, trying to retreat long enough to come up with a way out of this situation. However, Rembrandt presses on, nailing the Kentuckian with a flurry of vicious palm strikes, the last, which drives him back, sending him stumbling back down onto the canvas. Showing no mercy for his opponent, Rembrandt is on him again, mauling him with a series of stomps. HEEL POP!!!] JR: Rembrandt is absolutely vicious in there! Without the use of his right arm, I don't think City Jack is going to last much longer. DD: It's the Killer from motherf'in Kyoto in there, JR! City Jack knew what he was dealing with when he got his damn arm snapped off...I don't feel sorry for anyone stupid enough to step into the ring again after that. JR: There was no good reason...hell, there's *never* a good reason for breaking anyone's arm. Rembrandt's a damned coward. DD: Yeah...Rembrandt's a coward. That's hilarious. [Trying to cover up and protect his right arm from suffering any more damage, City Jack is sent rolling out of the ring by Rembrandt's onslaught. He remains on the outside, holding his right arm, trying to recover. The Kyoto native however...presses on, following City Jack out of the ring. But as he steps through the ropes, City Jack manages to catch him in the head with a slow, clubbing right hand. FACE POP!!!] DD: Oh come on, now! Cheater!!! JR: City Jack lured Rembrandt right into that punch! Wait, he's got him by the hair... ______TTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!______ [HUGE FACE POP!] DD: HOLY CRAP!!! JR: CITY JACK JUST TOSSED REMBRANDT OFF THE RING APRON!!! [With a grunt, City Jack pulls Rembrandt off the ring apron and flips him over, causing him to land backfirst onto the floor. The crowd is still abuzz as City Jack manages to do a little jig to the delight of his fans. However, he remains focused on the task at hand, pulling Rembrandt up to his feet with his one good arm and flinging him back into the ring. City Jack slowly rolls himself back into the ring and stomps Remy into position. He bounces off the ropes and in quite possibly, the scariest sight in a long time, leaps into the air...] ______TTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!______ [FACE POP!] DD: HOTCHIE MACHIE!!! JR: HUGE LEGDROP BY CITY JACK!!! ONE!!! TWO!!! THR-NO!!! [Disappointed pop!] JR: City Jack, with one bad arm...is dominating Rembrandt at the moment! DD: Like a bug...he squashed him like a damn...bug. There's no way to explain this. This reject from a Subway commercial should've laid down and died the first time his arm got torn off! JR: There's no questioning City Jack's heart. There's no denying his courage. But the question is how much longer can he fight back like this with only one good arm? [City Jack pulls Rembrandt back to his feet, doubling him over with a kick to the midsection. He backs up, and then catches Remy with a swinging neckbreaker!] JR: Swinging neckbreaker by City Jack! DD: That was ugly, JR...that was damned ugly. JR: City Jack had trouble cradling Rembrandt's head with that injured right arm, but he still managed to pull it off. The whole complexion of the match changed ever since Rembrandt took that hard spill off the ring apron. DD: A damn cheater...that's what City Jack is. [Dazed, Rembrandt gets back to his feet, only to catch a left hand and a hard headbutt. City Jack grabs Rembrandt by the wrist and whips him hard into the corner. He then does a little dance, before charging into the corner, slamming into Rembrandt with an avalanche! Face pop!] DD: Damn it all! JR: Rembrandt's in trouble! [Stumbling out of the corner looking as if he's about to collapse, Rembrandt leaves himself easy pickings for City Jack, who with some difficulty, scoops him up with his left arm and then powers him down with a powerslam! Face pop!] JR: That powerslam literally shook the ring! DD: There's no explaining this! Rembrandt should've killed this oompa-loompa by now! JR: City Jack back on his feet... [The crowd gets on their feet and they roar...] DD: Oh shit... JR: ...into the ropes... ______TTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!______ [BIG 'OLE FACE POP!!!] "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: A SPLASH ONTO REMBRANDT!!!! THREE HUNDRED POUNDS DRIVEN RIGHT INTO THE HEART OF THAT BASTARD!!! DD: JR! JR: Rembrandt broke City Jack's arm, Dirk...there's no way in hell I'm going to condone anything like that. If you ask me, he deserves a lot more than the punishment City Jack's dished out, so far. A _LOT_ more. DD: Bias piece of... JR: Hmm? DD: Uhhh...I said, "City Jack is a fat sack of crap." JR: Mmmhmm. [City Jack rolls off Rembrandt, clutching his injured arm. He takes a moment to recover, before dropping himself across his opponent's chest...] JR: City Jack with the cover! DD: Eep! ONE!!! TWO!!! THREE!!! [The crowd quiets down for a second, waiting for any signs from the referee. And then...] [Shocked pop!] JR: NO!!!! Rembrandt slipped the shoulder! He slips the shoulder! DD: Damn straight! Yeah! Yeah! Who got heart now, huh!? HUH!?!?! JR: City Jack's thrown everything he can against Rembrandt considering the circumstances, but it's not much help when most of his offense has been neutralized by that broken arm. DD: Boo-friggin'-hoo. Who cares? [Looking at a loss for what to do next, City Jack drags himself back to his feet and slowly pulls Rembrandt back to his feet. He catches Rembrandt with a left hand, followed up quickly with a elbowsmash right to the forehead, that staggers Rembrandt. He then attempts a move familiar to all GIW fans, but from an unorthodox position...] JR: Left-handed Metropill!!! [...which proves to be a mistake!] [Heel pop!] _____TTTTTTWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKK!!!!_____ Crowd: OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! JR: Rembrandt with the superkick out of nowhere! DD: Hell yeah! I never doubted you for a second, Remy! Never doubted you for a second!!! [The kick surprises City Jack, who tried to deflect the blow with his right arm(unfortunately). He falls to the ground, but immediately gets back to his feet, trying to show that the move didn't hurt him. With a snarl, Rembrandt sends City Jack back down with another kick, this time purposely striking him in the right arm! HEEL POP!] JR: City Jack's in big trouble. He may be risking permanent damage to that arm. DD: That cast is like a bull's eye with a big 'ole red dot in the middle. Rembrandt's going to attack that sucker until the cows come home. [Rembrandt grins, lifting his foot to stomp on City Jack's broken arm. However, he suddenly stops himself and shakes his head, instead choosing to drive his foot down onto the Television champion's left arm! HEEL POP!!!] JR: That son of a bitch! DD: Oh hell, that's even better! Break the other arm!!! JR: Shut up, Dirk. [City Jack screams in pain, but Rembrandt refuses to let up, pulling City Jack to his feet and catching him with a standing wristlock. He then proceeds to pull on the arm, driving his shoulder into the champion with a series of short- armed shoulderblocks, each one visibly paining City Jack. With one last tug, Rembrandt suddenly spins, flipping City Jack over with an ipponzei shoulder toss! Shocked pop!] DD: Holy sheeeiiittt!! JR: Rembrandt using that martial arts expertise, taking City Jack down with that judo throw. It's clear now that he's hellbent on injuring City Jack's other arm as well. DD: Ain't it great? JR: You sicken me, Dirk...you truely do. [Rembrandt immediately drives a knee down onto City Jack's left shoulder, before lifting the big man back to his feet. He hammerlocks the left arm, before wrapping an arm around the champion's waist and lifting him up for a back suplex, dropping him squarely onto the hammerlocked arm! Heel pop!] JR: A modified back suplex by Rembrandt! He suplexed City Jack right onto his left arm! DD: This is brilliant, JR! Soon, fat boy's not going to have any arms to use! JR: It's a despicable action, but I have to admit it's an extremely effective strategy on Rembrandt's part. If City Jack can't use his left or right arm, we might as well be crowning ourselves a new Television champion. DD: Pffft...JR, sometimes you're a real moron. You're acting as if Rembrandt wouldn't have kicked the living crap outta' City Jack and taken that damn title if he had two good arms anyway. JR: I am. DD: *Gasp!* [Rembrandt pulls City Jack back to his feet, doubling him over with a swift kick to the midsection. Using the same leg, he follows up with a sweeping arc, raising his foot high into the air and swiftly driving the point of his foot down onto City Jack's left shoulder! HEEL POP!] JR: AXE KICK RIGHT TO THE POINT OF THE SHOULDER!!! DD: This is a complete physical dissection, JR. Pure and simple. It ain't a matter of whether or not Rembrandt's going to win. It's a matter of how and when. JR: I hate to agree with you, Dirk...but I can't imagine anyone winning a match single-handedly...hell, and now...without any arms at all. Not even City Jack. DD: "Not even City Jack?" What the hell are you smoking??? [Content with taunting City Jack with little kicks to the side of the head every time he tries to get to his feet, Rembrandt finally grabs the champion by his arm, pulling him to his feet harshly, yanking hard on that left arm that he's been working on all match. He shoots City Jack into the corner, following in close behind and leaping into the air with a spinning heel kick, hellbent on decapitating City Jack. However, the champion still has some fight in him left...] Crowd: OOOOHHHHHHH!!!!! DD: What the hell!?! JR: CITY JACK DUCKS!!! Rembrandt went for a spinning heel kick in the corner and ended up flying over the turnbuckles! [Indeed. Without City Jack's head to stop his momentum, Rembrandt goes sailing over the top turnbuckle, lands awkwardly on the ring apron and takes a hard spill onto the ring floor for the second time tonight. City Jack shakes his left arm, trying to get some feeling back into it, before rolling out of the ring. Face pop!] JR: And here comes City Jack! DD: Impossible...he's got no arms! He's gotten the crap kicked out of him! JR: City Jack won't lay down for anyone, Dirk...you know that as well as I do. DD: Crap! You're right! [Meeting a dazed Rembrandt on the floor, City Jack catches the "Killer from Kyoto" with a clumsy left hand and then grabs a handful of hair, slamming Rembrandt head-first into the ringsteps! FACE POP! Suddenly, a smile appears on City Jack's face as he realizes just how effective that may be...] DD: What the hell's that fat ass doing... JR: I think you know exactly what he's doing, Dirk... [Why don't we just count along?] "ONE!!!" *CLANK!* "TWO!!!" *CLANK!* "FOUR!!!" *CLANK!* "FIVE!!!" *CLANK!* "SIX!!!" *CLANK!* "SEVEN!!!" *CLANK!* "EIGHT!!!" *CLANK!* "NINE!!!" *CLANK!* [HUGE FACE POP!!!] JR: He's dancing! DD: Fat man out of control!!! [...] "TEN!!!" *CLANK!* [The crowd rises to their feet with a standing ovation as City Jack releases a now bloody Rembrandt, who takes about two full steps backward, before falling face-first onto the floor! FACE POP!!!] JR: City Jack just slammed Rembrandt head-first into the steel steps not once, not twice...but TEN times!!! And listen to this crowd...listen to this ovation for the Television champion!!! DD: This is crap!? Where the hell's Francois!? [We cut to a shot inside the ring, where the elderly referee looks around in confusion, not quite sure WHERE the wrestlers are.] DD: God, hire Marc friggin' Gioffre if you have to! Get Hervez to pull double duty! Anyone but this guy! JR: City Jack back to his feet... [City Jack carefully uses his left arm to bring the bleeding Rembrandt back to his feet....before throwing him towards the ringpost, so hard in fact, he takes himself off his feet! Rembrandt tries to bring his arms up in time, but...] ______CCCCCLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!______ [HUGE POP!!!] JR: REMBRANDT HITS THE RINGPOST HEAD-FIRST!!! DD: Damnit...he's like one of those undead...not...DYING guys! JR: The stress getting to you Dirk? DD: Just a little. [With the crowd firmly chanting "CITY JACK!!!", the big man from Kentucky slides himself back into the ring, hoping that he's bought himself enough time to recover from the assault Rembrandt's given him so far. Nudging Eli Francois just a bit, City Jack motions for him to make the countout! Pop!] DD: Wait...wait a second! JR: City Jack just might retain his title! [The crowd counts along, as Eli Francois throws a finger into the air!] *ONE!* DD: This is a friggin' joke! You expect me to accept this!? JR: As much as you expected me to accept Rembrandt winning despite City Jack having a broken arm. DD: T-that's different! *TWO!* DD: Come on, Remy- JR: ...-stay down! DD: HEY! *THREE!* JR: Still no signs of life from Rembrandt. DD: He got his damn brains scrambled by a lunatic fatman! What do you expect!? *FOUR!* JR: City Jack using this time to recover...smart move on his part. DD: What about Rembrandt!? He's bleeding like a stuck pig on the outside! Where'd the sympathy you City Jack-whore!? *FIVE!* [Finally...Rembrandt begins to stir...] *SIX!* JR: Rembrandt's trying to get to his feet now... DD: Yes! Yes Yes Yes! *SEVEN!* [Up to all fours, Rembrandt staggers to his feet, stumbling back into the ring apron.] *EIGHT!* [He tries to drag himself back into the ring...] *NINE!* [And just as Francois is about to reach ten...] *TE-..* [HEEL POP!!!] JR: He makes it back in! Rembrandt makes it back into the ring by the skin of his teeth! DD: YES!!! Whew! Don't do that to me, man! [City Jack pulls Rembrandt back to his feet, clubbing him over the back with his left arm. However, Rembrandt fires back with a palm strike to the midsection. City Jack absorbs the strike and fires back with a punch from his right arm, severely rocking Rembrandt into the ropes in the process. However, City Jack immediately grabs for his arm, having done himself just as much harm. Undaunted, the Television champion whips Rembrandt into the ropes, who goes for running Mafia kick, which is ducked. Rembrandt spins around just in time to take a quick kick to the gut and a DDT! FACE POP!!!] JR: DDT OUT OF NOWHERE!!! COVER THAT MAN!!! DD: Ah crap...not like this! ONE!!! TWO!!! KICKOUT!!! JR: No! Rembrandt kicks out! DD: The boy's a machine! An unstoppable juggernaut! A... JR: A Japanese guy bleeding all over the ring? DD: Shut up! [City Jack slaps the mat in frustration, but doesn't let his emotions get the best of him. He bends down to pull Rembrandt back to his feet, only to receive a thumb to the eye! HEEL POP! Having stunned the big man, he follows up with a kick from the lying position, nailing Jack in the back of the head with his shin! Once he's at a vertical base, Rembrandt unloads...] ___SMMMMMMAAAAAAAACCCCCCCKKKK!!!___ Crowd: OH!!! JR: Whatta' kick! DD: OUCH!!! [He snaps out with another...] ___SMMMMMMAAAAAAAACCCCCCCKKKK!!!___ Crowd: OH! [And another!] ___SMMMMMMAAAAAAAACCCCCCCKKKK!!!___ Crowd: OH!!! JR: Rembrandt's kicking the living hell out of City Jack! How he's still on his feet, I don't know! DD: He's too stupid to know he's hurt! Fatty's out on his feet! JR: Rembrandt's measuring him up for one more... [FACE POP!!!] JR: NO!!! City Jack catches the foot! DD: Kick him with 'yer other foot! JR: Enzuigiri...-DUCKED!!! [And watch the fans go wild...] *THUD!* JR: I think we all know what City Jack's doing here! DD: Not the endless elbowdrops... JR: THE ENDLESS ELBOWDROPS!!! *THUD!* *THUD!* *THUD!* *THUD!* *THUD!* *THUD!* [With the crowd giving an "Ooo!" with each massive elbowdrop landed, City Jack finally stops, dragging himself back to his feet, looking quite flushed. He stands up straight for a split-second, before falling forward...] ______TTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!______ [BOOTYLICIOUS FACE POP!!!] JR: BELLY FLLLLLOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!! DD: Dear God! ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE-NO!!! FOOT ON THE ROPES!!! [HEEL POP!] JR: City Jack almost had him! He's taken a horrible beating, but he's sucked it up. He's using every resource available to him to keep that Television title! DD: He's just kidding himself, JR. Sooner or later, that gas tank is going to be running on empty and that...as we say...is that. [City Jack pulls Rembrandt to his feet and whips him into the ropes. He telegraphs a backdrop, which Rembrandt easily evades by rolling off the big man's back and landing behind him. He clubs City Jack in the back with a clubbing forearm and grabs a waistlock...] ______TTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!______ Crowd: OOOOHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! JR: RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX!!! Rembrandt got the champion up!! DD: Just like that, JR...the tides have turned. Just...like..._THAT._ [Rembrandt charges...] *SMACK!* [Heel pop!] JR: Short dropkick to the face!!! He just dropkicked City Jack in the face!!! [Rembrandt pulls a woozy City Jack back to his feet and whips him towards the ropes. Suddenly, he pulls him back towards him and drops down...] [HEEL POP!!] JR: FUJIWARA ARMBAR!!! Rembrandt's got that reverse armbar locked on!!! DD: Squeal, boy!! Squeal like pig!!! JR: He's trapped with nowhere to go! City Jack's trapped in the middle of the ring! [City Jack grabs for the ropes, but he can't reach them. He tries to pull himself towards the ropes, but is unable to, receiving resistance from Rembrandt, who pulls back on the arm. City Jack lunges, but misses the rope, much to the disappointment of the fans.] DD: He's going to tap! He's going to tap! JR: No way! If I know City Jack, he's going to fight this hold with all he's got! DD: Quit kidding yourself, JR! This man's one good tug away from becoming a permanent cripple...he might as well throw in the towel and come back to fail another day! [City Jack tries to roll out of it amazingly enough, but Rembrandt holds on, his grip firmly on the left arm!] DD: Listen to those screams, JR! Listen to your champion scream! JR: Come on...you can fight out've this... [The crowd begins to clap in rhythm, cheering for their hero to escape the hold...to find one last miracle that'll keep that title around his waist. Trapped with nowhere to go, paralyzed with excruciating pain, City Jack looks around desperately for an escape, his face grimacing in...a smile?] DD: What the hell!? He's smiling??? JR: I don't believe it... [Rembrandt looks confused...as City Jack rolls along, driving himself up with his knees...enough to free his right arm. The one with the heavy cast...] DD: Oh, he wouldn't... JR: Don't! [Too late now...] ______SMMMMAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!______ [HUGE HUGE FACE POP!] DD: GODDAMNIT!!!!! JR: METROPILL!!!! METROPILL!!!! METRRRRROOOOOPPPPPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!! DD: Bullshirt! [The sound of the cast cracking across Rembrandt's exposed jaw leaves a loud, reverberating echo ringing throughout the gymnasium. The crowd continues to cheer in a frenzy, but City Jack remains lying facedown on the canvas, screaming in tremendous pain. Meanwhile, Rembrandt is down and out.] JR: City Jack did the last thing he wanted to do! He used that broken right arm...that cast to break out of that fujiwara armbar, but paid for it dearly. DD: Kiss that arm goodbye, JR. It's not going to be used for a long, long time. [City Jack gets to his feet and falls back into a corner, cradling that right arm. He tries to get back to his feet, but the pain is too great. He remains in the corner recovering as Rembrandt tries to regain his bearings.] JR: Rembrandt's trying to move, but his body's just not cooperating. DD: Damn that City Jack...using that broken arm to his advantage! JR: Karma, Dirk...karma. DD: Kiss my ass. [Rembrandt gets to his feet, standing on unsteady legs. He drops back to his knees and holds his head, before falling onto the canvas. With considerable effort, City Jack pulls himself to his feet and stumbles over to Rembrandt, laying into him with some stomps, trying to regain control of the match.] JR: City Jack looks at a loss at what to do. He took that risk with the cast, but it seems to have taken just as much out of him as it did Rembrandt. DD: That's easy for you to say you lover of fat men! Your guy didn't get hit in the head with a block of solid plaster! [City Jack pauses for a moment and rubs his right shoulder gingerly, cursing himself silently.] JR: And City Jack looks to be regretting using that right arm as well. Without it, he won't be able to use the Metropill...or heck, the Metroboom when it comes time to finish the match. DD: Cry me a river, JR. Tell someone who gives a damn. [City Jack tries to pull Rembrandt to his feet, but Remy's dead weight and that left arm is almost as damaged as the right. City Jack tries again, but suddenly, Rembrandt stuns him with a lightning quick strike to the throat! HEEL POP!] JR: He was playing possum! Rembrandt with a thrust to the throat! DD: Yeah! Always thinking on his feet! ___SMMMMMAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKK!!!___ Crowd: OH! JR: KOPPOU KICK!!! [Not stopping for one second, Rembrandt pulls City Jack to his feet and places him into a standing headscissors. He lifts...] ___THHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!!!___ JR: PILEDRIVER BY REMBRANDTI!! ONE!!! TWO!!! KICKOUT!!! [FACE POP!!!] JR: NO!!! City Jack lives! DD: Die! [Without a wasted breath, Rembrandt quickly pulls City Jack back up, hammerlocking his left arm behind his back and lifts...] JR: HAMMERLOCK NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!!! DD: Count it!!! Count it!!! ONE!!! TWO!!! KICKOUT!!! [HUGE FACE POP!!!] JR: City Jack kicks out again! Rembrandt with huge move after huge move and the champion REFUSES to lose! DD: What the hell??? Seriously....what the hell is this guy on!? [Looking frustrated beyond belief, Rembrandt yanks City Jack up to unsteady feet. However, perhaps regaining a second...probably third or fourth wind, City Jack uses his size advantage and begins to take control with a series of stiff left-handed punches that leave Rembrandt staggered. However, Rembrandt answers back with a headbutt that wobbles City Jack's knees. He whips Jack into the ropes, but it's reversed and City Jack follows up by catching him with the biggest goddamned dropkick in GIW history. HUGE SHOCKED POP!] JR: DROPKICK BY CITY JACK!!! BY GOD, A DROPKICK!!! DD: The man's not human...I'm convinced. He's not human. [Stunned by the fact he even ATTEMPTED to do that, City Jack waits for Rembrandt to get back to his feet, before missing with the lariat attempt. However, before Rembrandt can even counter...] JR: THE CITY SLEEPS!!! HE'S GOT THAT COBRA CLUTCH LOCKED ON!!! DD: Fight that! Bite him in the arm! Hit him with one of those Hong Kong Fooey kicks! Come on, Rembrandt!!! [Finding it difficult to keep the move on with his two injured arms, City Jack tries his best to keep Rembrandt locked in, but the man from Kyoto quickly lunges forward, grabbing the ropes to a huge groan from the crowd.] DD: Hey! Let go of the hold, damnit! JR: City Jack's trying to pull Rembrandt off those ropes... [With a final effort, City Jack tears Rembrandt away from those ropes...] ______TTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!______ [HUGE FACE POP!!!] JR: COBRA CLUTCH BULLDOG!!! City Jack pulled Rembrandt off the ropes and _SLAMS_ Rembrandt face-first into the canvas!!! DD: Fluke!!! [City Jack sits up, placing his left arm close to his chest, while his right arm dangles harmlessly at his side. He shoots his left arm into the arm and manages to drop himself across Rembrandt's chest...] ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE-KICKOUT!!! [HEEL POP!!!] JR: NO!!! ONLY TWO!!! DD: Whew! [Rembrandt manages to roll his shoulder at the last possible second, giving the crowd a collective heart attack. City Jack is slow to his feet, but brings Remy up with him. He attempts to send Rembrandt into the corner, but his opponent holds onto his wrist, pulling City Jack forward and catching him flush on the temple with a high kick! Heel pop! Without even a moment's delay, Rembrandt grabs City Jack and with all his strength, lifts...] ______TTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!______ [MASSIVE HEEL POP!!!] JR: FISHERMAN'S BUSTER!!! FISHERMAN'S BUSTER ON CITY JACK!!! DD: THAT'S IT!!! NEW CHAMPION, BABY!!! ONE!!! TWO!!! THREE!!!! [HUGE HEEL/FACE/CONFUSION POP!!!] JR: NO!!!! NO!!!! CITY JACK GOT THE SHOULDER UP!!!! CITY JACK KICKED OUT!!! DD: AAAAAARRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!! I can't take this! This is killing me!!! [Rembrandt holds his head in disbelief and screams out in frustration.] JR: Rembrandt can't believe this! He thought he had him! He thought he had the title won! DD: He did! Francois doesn't know what the hell he's doing out there!!! [With a look of rage in his eyes, Rembrandt begins stomping and kicking viciously at City Jack, focusing the bulk of his stomping on his arms and shoulders!] JR: It looks like Rembrandt's snapped! He's hit City Jack with everything he's got and nothing's worked! DD: I'd be going crazy too! He..._JUST WON'T DIE!!!_ God, someone get me a shotgun and lets get this thing over with! JR: You know Dirk...I'm willing to bet even that wouldn't stop him. DD: Bite your fuckin' tongue, JR...bite your fuckin' tongue. [Having grown tired of stomping away at the near defenseless City Jack, Rembrandt rolls out of the ring, shoving the timekeeper out of the way and taking his chair. The crowd erupts with a chorus of boos, but Rembrandt just doesn't care.] JR: Come on now! You don't need a chair! DD: Desperate times call for desperate measures. [Rembrandt rolls back into the ring, waiting for the rising City Jack to turn around. However, as he readies himself to smash the chair over City Jack's head, the least likely of individuals stops him... ...Eli Francois. HUGE FACE POP!!!] JR: Francois grabs the chair! He's not letting Rembrandt use the chair!!! DD: Damnit, old man! Get out of the way!!! [However, Rembrandt manages to throw Francois off him, shoving him down harshly. He turns his attention back to City Jack, but that moment of distraction was all the champion needed...] ______SMMMMAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!______ [MASSIVE, HUGE, ORGASMIC FACE POP!!!!] JR: LEFT-ARMED METROPILL!!!! DD: NO!!! [Rembrandt drops the chair and staggers back into the ropes, which keep him up, causing him to bounce off the ropes and right into another...] ______SMMMMAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!______ [HUGE FACE POP!!!!] JR: AND ANOTHER METROPILL!!! DD: If City Jack pulls this off, there is no God... [Rembrandt falls, but he refuses to stay down, pushing himself to his knees. City Jack, not sure what to do now, stares at his limp right arm and smiles.] JR: What's he...no!!! Don't do it, Jack! DD: Oh crap... [City Jack locks his left hand with his right and lifts his arms into the air. With one, final desperate charge, he brings up his right arm, aiming for another casted Metropill. Rembrandt turns in time to see City Jack lumbering towards him....] ______CCCCCCCCCCLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!______ [HUGE HEEL POP!!!!!] JR: REMBRANDT BROUGHT UP THAT CHAIR!!! CITY JACK HITS THE CHAIR!!! DD: YESSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!! [City Jack immediately collapses onto the canvas as Rembrandt immediately pounces down on him...] [MASSIVE HEEL POP!!!] JR: FUJIWARA ARMBAR ON THE LEFT ARM!!!!!! DD: TAP, YOU FAT PIECE OF CRAP!!! TAP!!!! [City Jack tries to fight it with all the strength he has left, clawing for the ropes... Eli Francois begins to stir, checking for any signs of submission.... Meanwhile, Rembrandt pulls...pulls on that arm for all he's got...] JR: He's fighting it...he's... DD: ...He's passed out, JR! Don't waste your breath. JR: No... [City Jack's struggling ceases and Eli Francois holds his arm into the air... It drops once. It drops twice. He holds it up one last time... ...it drops for a third time!] [DING!! DING!! DING!!] [MASSIVE HEEL POP!!!!!] DD: YES!!!! YES!!! DING DONG, THE FATBOY'S DEAD!!!!!!!! JR: He lost...I can't believe City Jack lost. DD: Deal with it!!! NEW CHAMPION!!! EH: THE WINNER....AND NNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEWWWWWW GIW TELEVISION CHAMPION... RREEEEEEEEEMMMMMMMMBBBBBBBBRRRRRAAAAAANNNNNNNTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!! [The crowd tears into another nasty HEEL POP! as the new champ gets up and smiles a sick grin.. as Francois goes over to retrieve the belt from Hervez.. Remmy cutting him off and quickly ripping the belt out of the midget's hand to another round of booes!] JR: What a lack of respect! DD: Forget that! We got a new TV champ! No reign of undefeatedness for you anymore tubby! Back to square one! JR: Fans, a few paramedics are on their way down here as Rembrandt, the new TV champ, leaves the ring with his new title.. and you gotta believe City Jack is in serious trouble and definitely pain! DD: Not really.. he is passed out! JR: Give him some damn credit, man! DD: Hey, I'll tell you what Jake.. Jack showed more heart and will to fight by not tapping out when he could have.. that he earned just an inkling of my very hard-earned respect. Tough sonofabitch, I'll give him that.. but he's no Rembrandt. JR: Rembrandt is quite the menace and tonight he proved it as he finally handed City Jack his first loss in the rings of the Grand Isle Wrestling. DD: Rock on, he is now my hero.. my hero! JR: Settle down ratster! DD: Rat?! Why you little! JR: Fans.. we all know what is up next.. the special Grand Isle version of the famous Spidernet Trap Death Match.. made famous in the rings of Japan.. but with our own special twist. Ring crew are frantically putting up the two sides of barbed wire ropes in spidernet fashion and it seems like the open sides with no ropes are gonna have boxes of spidernet traps on the floor.. good lord. DD: Death at its finest! Lots of barbed wire.. lots of glass.. lots of light tubes! JR: Right down your alley, but you forgot the main key. DD: What? JR: The GIW Heavyweight title. DD: Doh! JR: That's right.. McBaine and Brady.. finally to meet for the biggest prize of them all. As the ring and it's contraptions continue to be set up.. let's take you to some final words by Russ Brady and then to a special video montage as we wind down to out main event! DD: Wooooooo! [Open to a rundown two story house, stuck in the middle of the country. It's white paint is nearly chipped off altogether and a few wooden planks can be seen hanging from the back. On the porch the screen door is...not actually attached to the threshold, rather stood up against it. There is a swing sagging to the ground, only one metal chain still attached. And to the far right, quietly rocking in a chair is Russ Brady. Dressed in rolled up khaki's and a brown leather vest, the normally angry Brady looks...well, serene.] RB: Ah ain't gon' lie'n say 'at Ah'm a frequent attendee o' Church...but every now'n agin ever'body needs some Church'n. Even guys in mah perfession. So 'ats where Ah was t'day, tellin' 'em men o' the cloth all o' mah misdoin's, gettin' fergivin' fer alla stuff Ah been carryin' 'round with me. A man cain't go on livin' with that amount o' sins on his chest. 'specially when he's aimin' ta commit a whole lot more. [Brady nods to himself and keeps rocking back and forth, keeping his calm.] RB: This heap o' wood b'hind me is where Ah grew up. The Brady mansion ya might say. Learned alot in 'is place, shit, Ah learned alot on th' sides'n 'round back too. One time, Ah'd say it was in th' winter, a bunch o' punks came'n tried to rob the old place. So Pop runs down th' hall, gets me outta bed'n says somethin' bout pertectin' the castle. So we went outside an' we pertected th' goddamn castle. There was four of 'em...two of us. Ah still dunno where Pop buried 'em. [Shrug.] RB: 'Course, Pops was heavy inta th' booze. He could drink mah share'n yer share...th' man could drink. 'Cept he sometahms couldn't handle the after 'fects. When Ah was ten he came an' got me after some boozin', tells me ta put 'em up. Says we gon' fight like men, er somethin'. So he took one swing at me, an' Ah fell down. 'at went on an' off fer eight years. Till Ah was eighteen. Then one day Ah knocked his front goddamned teeth out. He learned. Took 'em eight years, but mah Pap learned. Ah'm beginnin' ta wonder though...how long's it gona take 'fore you learn your lesson, McBaine? [Brady rocks forward, staying in the air for a second and flashing a condescending look at the camera.] RB: Y'see Bad Eye...Trevor...Ah ain't 'fraid o' you. Ya may have scared the livin' hell outta some people 'round these parts, but one man you ain't impacted is me. Russ Brady. Ah had ya pegged the moment ya walked in th' door. Remember? Th' firs' GIW show. Ah was busy runnin' that piece o' trash George Stevens outta town. An' you was the myst'ry man in 'at battle royal. Ever'one was real quick to crown ya as the king o' th' Bayou but Ah wasn't ready jes' yet. Ah needed a lil more evidence 'en jes' some moron announcer. _That's_ why Ah came after ya at Brawlin', Ah wanted ta see whut kinda man ya were. The answer? Jes' as I suspected. A coward. Fer alla talk about the legend o' Bad Eye McBaine, ya ran an' ya hid from me. Offered yer hand as mah partner, but didja really thank 'at Ah'd fall fer that shit? Ah knew you was jes' dodgin' th' inevitable. [Russ nods again, diggin in his pocket to strike up a lucky.] RB: When ya cos' me 'at match 'gainst the dancin' fatman, Ah knew what you was about. Alla mind games? Alla bravado? 'ats false advertisin'. Cause you jes' _hadda_ come back out'n save face. You jes' hadda get th' last word. The unshakeable Bad Eye McBaine, too cool ta bother. All a lie. Yer a fraud McBaine, a liar. Ever'thang you claim ta be, you ain't, an' ever' read cent you make off yer own bullshit is a slap inna face ta me and another small knife in tha back o' the GIW. Ah ain' never been no company man, not here or anywhere, but whut Ah am is a man o' mah word. [Brady's voice gets softer, more intense, as he stops rocking for a second.] RB: If Ah say Ah'm gonna fight you nose ta nose, eye to eye, then goddamnit Ah'm gonna do it. An' if Ah say Ah'm gonna shatter that layer o' bullshit that you got everyone believin' er die tryin'...then goddamnit Ah will, or Ah will. That's why I went ta Church. Ah made mah peace with the maker, McBaine, Jesus loves me. Mah slate has been wiped clean, an' Ah'm primed ta start all over 'gain an' Ah'm primed ta waste 'em all on you, McBaine. Spidertrap Death Match. It won't be pretty but wrasslin' seldom is. Ah ain't gotta tell ya, that it's gonna come down ta will. Which man has the bigger will ta live. But now 'at mah conscience is clean, Ah ain't lookin' to come out o' this match safe. Ah ain't even tryin' ta make it outta this match alive. But b'lieve me boy, if Ah should draw mah las' breath in 'at ring, if the Saga o' Russ Brady comes to an end in Nawlins, the last scene is gonna be the GIW title draped over mah shoulder an' Bad Eye McBaine...dead. Right next ta me. [Brady exhales a large cloud of smoke and the scene fades...to...black.] [We stay at black for a few moments..] [Fade in on an intense shot of Russ Brady and "Bad Eye" McBaine standing toe to toe in the middle of a GIW ring. Neither man makes the slightest motion as the sultry strumming of guitar strings can be heard. After a few moments, a second guitar joins the first as Staind's "Outside" begins to play.] # And you... can bring me to my knees... # [Cut to shot of McBaine's chain wrapped fist slamming into Brady's blood soaked forehead as he crumples to his knees.] # ... again... # # All the times... that I could beg you please... # [Brady's glossy eyelids raise in slow motion to meet McBaine's grinning face as the final blow collapses his body to the ground.] # ... in vain... # # All the times... that I felt insecure... # [Cut to a shot of a blood stained Brady leaning against a chain linked fence, his body visibly battered and fatigued.] # .. for you... # # And I leave my burdens at the door... # [Brady lifts both fists to the camera, hands clentched in hate as he drops them to his sides and pushes passed the camera. Cut to a montage of McBaine clashing with the monster Nelson at Brawlin'.] # I'm on the outside - I'm looking in # # I can see through you - see your true colors # # Cause inside you're ugly - ugly like me # # I can see through you - see to the real you # [As the song's powerful guitar riffs echo thourgh the air, McBaine is seen lifting the mammoth Nelson onto his shoulders. As McBaine plants Nelson with the Blinder Valley Driver on a pile of chairs and barbwire the scene slowly fades out.] # All the times that I felt like this won't end... # [Cut to the shot of McBaine and Brady still standing toe to toe. Finally McBaine out stretches an open hand to Brady, who in response merely glances at it, turns his back and walks away.] # ... it's for you... # # And I taste, but I could never have... # [As Brady walks from McBaine, the champion's face suddenly swells with rage as he thrusts the Heavyweight title into the air, yellying at Brady.] # ... words from you... # # All those times that I tried... # [Cut to a shot of Brady wearing a referee's shirt and holding the Heavyweight championship, eyes lost in the belt as a sweaty McBaine yells at him to hand it over to him.] # ... my intention full of pride... # # And I waste more time than anyone... # [Brady hands the belt tenderly to McBaine seconds before kicking him in the gut, grabbing him by the waste and piledriving him face first in the middle of the wrestling ring. Cut to a montage of Brady easily pounding the everloving crap out of Ryan Faith at Brawlin'.] # I'm on the outside - I'm looking in # # I can see through you - see your true colors # # Cause inside you're ugly - ugly like me # # I can see through you - see to the real you # [The electric guitars explode into powerful riffs as shots of Brady's movements soon begin to flow into slow motion until finally he stands over Faith's broken body.] # All the times that I've cried... # [Cut to shots of both Brady and McBaine marred in their own blood, screaming in pain from past matches.] # ... all this wasting - it's all inside... # [Flash to Brady struggling with a look of pure grit and determination on his face as he pulls himself up using the ring ropes.] # And I feel all this pain... # [Flash to McBaine on his knees calling for City Jack to hit him once more with a steel chair.] # ... stuffed it down - it's back again... # [City Jack waffles McBaine with the chair crumpling the champion to his hands and knees. Jack then looks out to the crowd for a moment which was all that McBaine needed to spring up and launch a visicous spear, crushing Jack into the turnbuckle.] # And I lie here in bed all alone... # [Cut to a shot of Brady laid out in the middle of the ring on his back. His eyes blink open, but only his head moves slightly to the side.] # ... I can't mend... # [Flash to McBaine doubled over in the corner turnbuckle. A trickle of blood escapes his lips as his chest heaves heavily.] # And I fear tomorrow will be okay... # [Cut to a swollen and battered Brady gingerly lifting up a black duffle bag onto his back and walking down a darkened highway.] # I'm on the outside - I'm looking in # # I can see through you - see your true colors # # Cause inside you're ugly - you're ugly like me # [Cut back to the opening scene of Brady and McBaine, nose to nose, neither backing off an inch.] # I can see through you - see to the real you... # [Fade out.] [And then back in.. to a warmachine known as the GIW ring. On two sides.. the ropes have been replaced by barbed wire which make an X in the middle as though it was formed as a spiderweb. On the other two sides there are no ropes at all.. but on the floor around ringside at both sides lay big ass wooden boxes. As the camera angles over them enough.. we can see that some are filled with light tubes.. some are filled with glass.. ALL are laced in spidernet barbed wire.] [And then there is the scaffold. Perched a good twelve to thirteen feet above the ring is a scaffold which is basically some heavily fortified plywoof held up and braced by metal tubing.. put together at the ends with metal pipes. The only way up or down is by climbing the siding of pipes to the top.. no ladded.. no footholds.. a death trap unto itself. The fans are continually murmuring and cheering as the construction is finally created to it's fullest.] JR: Well.. just look fans, words cannot describe this contraption of death. DD: Amen to that. JR: Two men.. one shared hatred.. one Heavyweight title.. and this is all that stands between them. In this trap lies the fate of two men.. and perhaps their lives are at stake as well. DD: ... JR: Fans.. this is our Spidernet Trap Death match.. Antonio.. take it away. [Cut to a somewhat frightened Antonio Hervez who stands in hell.. making the call..] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. this is the SPIDERNET TRAP DEATH MATCH [BIG TIME POP!] and it is our MAIN EVENT OF THE EVENING! [ANOTHER POP!].. AND IT IS FOR THE GIW HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE [BIGGEST POP!!] The rules are as follows: There is no time limit, no disqualifications, and no countouts. The first man unable to answer a standing ten count loses! [Pop!] Introducing first.. the challenger.. #BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNGGG# #BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNGGG# [The church bells chime and "For Whom the Bell Tolls" by Metallica cranks up to a righteous face pop as the curtains sweep open and Russ Brady slowly walks out of the back. The lights flicker on and off as the Angry One stops at the beginning of the aisle. Clad in black jeans and a Friday the 13th tee shirt, with white tape wrapped all around his arms, from his knuckles to mid-forearms. His blonde hair is loosely tied back as Brady stomps to ringside, looking at the hell hole he's about to enter. Carefully entering the ring, Brady goes to the center and shoots up a right fist to the crowd, an action the crowd mimics as they cheer the warrior on.] AH: In the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 307 pounds and he hails from Tulsa, Oklahoma.. here is.. RUSS BRADY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [RUTHLESSLY WICKED FACE POP!!! as Brady keeps the arm in the air.. eyeing down the entranceway and his destiny.] AH: And his opponent.. [Suddenly a deep mellow sound of a guitar reverberates through the Cardinal High School Gymnasium, 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# [Suddenly the guitar blares to life as the Metallica's "Until it Sleeps" echoes throughout the Gym. A HUGE heel pop ignites over the jam-packed Sand Dollar as the chaos is swallowed into the night sky.] #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# [A camera zooms its way up the make-shift isle finally stopping at the curtains. 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 isle way. A rather large eye patch can be made out beneath the hair and a litter of wounds stitched closed cover the figure’s body. It is the one eyed warrior known to the Grand Isle as "Bad Eye" McBaine. In his left, fingerless gloved hand he drags the Grand Isle Wrestling Heavyweight Championship by his side.] [McBaine slowly makes his way to the ring, eyes never leaving it. Once McBaine reaches the ring, he tosses the championship belt in to the center of the ring as he slides under the barbwired bottom rope. McBaine slowly spins around studying the screaming masses as his lips slow contort into a wicked smirk.] AH: In the ring at this time.. he weighs in tonight at 302 pounds and he hails from the Valley of the Blind.. he is the GIW HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!! [BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!].. here is.. "BAD EYE" McBAINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [BIGGEST HEEL POP OF THE NIGHT!!! as McBaine just points a finger at Brady.. telling him to bring it on.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Nightmare in New Orleans: Spidernet Trap Death Match for the Heavyweight Title!!! Main Event!!! "Bad Eye" McBaine [c] vs. Russ Brady Written By: Mike Gilliland ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ [DING!! DING!! DING!! Big Main Event Pop!] JR: And there's the bell folks, and the main event of one of the damndest shows in the Grand Isle's history is on it's way, will it be McBaine coming away with the belt once more, or will Russ Brady finally be able to dethrone the champ? DD: Like that's even a question?! Russ Brady doesn't have a shot, man, not a shot at all. JR: An opinion shared at least by one, Dirk, as the two warriors set towards the center of the ring.. the looks in these men's eyes tell it all, both are fueled by rage and hatred for the other.. [As they get to the center of the ring.. the equally sized duo get nose to nose.. the fans popping at the face to face staredown, both men exchanging words nobody but themselves can hear as McBaine quickly steps back.. SSSSLLLLLLAAAAAAPPPPPPP!!!] [Boooo!] JR: Youch! McBaine slapping the taste right out of the challenger's mouth! And Brady just returned the glare of glares! [Pop!] And it's on! Brady tearing into McBaine with a huge right! And another! And another! And now McBaine fighting back with an overhand right of his own! And another! Brady with a left! McBaine with a r-, blocked by Brady! DD: Oh my, fight night at the Cardinal Gymnasium! JR: Brady with clubbing rights just backing up the champ towards a side of the spidernet ropes! DD: Watch out McBaine, don't let him turn your back to ground beef! JR: McBaine trying desperately to hold his ground towards the razor-sharp barbed wire ropes here as Brady stops the onslaught.. Irish whip! McBaine barreling down towards the far side net.. [But the fans boo! as McBaine does the good ole-fashioned baseball slide stop.. popping back up a foot and half or so away from the web of destruction. He turns to look at Brady, then points to his brain as to say "Not so fast, Russ."] DD: Hehehe, mindgames in full effect! JR: McBaine making sure the challenger knows he's come to play for keep here as [Pop!].. Brady gives him the clever middle finger in return! DD: Oh, real clever.. Russ Brady trying to prove how mentally stunted he is, and doing quite a wonderful job at it. JR: The duo charges back towards the center of the ring.. and back to the war of fists we go! DD: This is what I've been waiting to see all night, a knockdown drag-out fight! JR: It's a Pier Six Br- DD: ACK! Don't say those words! JR: Both men exchanging punches now.. and they aren't holding anything back as both men's faces are getting beat red.. McBaine with a right! Brady answers with a right of his own! Right by McBaine! Left by Brady! [Ohh!] And the champ goes to the breadbasket with a knee doubling over his challenger.. [With that, McBaine reigns down a few clubbing forearms across the back of Brady.. dropping him to his hands and knees before.. THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! HEEL POP!] DD: Good lord! JR: Brutal soccer style kicks to the stomach by McBaine.. four in all.. and Brady has rolled over onto his back and is definitely feeling the effects of those shots as he clutches his stomach. DD: Now Brady knows what it feels like to be on the bad side of the Bad Eye! JR: Cute. DD: Wasn't meant to be, dick. JR: The champ stomping away at the back and the neck of the prone Russ Brady as the fans seemingly are on edge.. the hatred for our "esteemed" champ knows no bounds.. DD: Hillbillies don't appreciate greatness. JR: McBaine seemingly done toying with his prey as he picks Brady back up off the canvas.. looking around the crowd as they boo and hiss.. and now he's got Brady in a standing headscissors! Wasting no time.. he lifts! [But only gets Brady halfway up before the challenger fights it and gets dropped back to his feet to a nice pop!] DD: More power this time.. with meaning damnit! JR: McBaine lifts again.. but Brady fights again! Brady lifts this time.. [Thud! Pop!] JR: Big back bodydrop counter by the challenger foils the champ's plans at least for the time being! Both men popping to their feet as Brady is dangerously close to the open side of the ring where those traps lay in wait on the floor! DD: Oh no.. McBaine! Don't.. too risky! [What Dirk is foreshadowing is McBaine's now sprint towards McBaine and the open side of the ring.. damn near a suicide mission!] JR: McBaine charges.. shouldertack-, no! Brady sidestepping and sending McBaine _OFF THE APRON_!!!!!!!! DD: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! [McBaine sails to the outside.. at an alarming rate.. [Thud! Crash! Disappointed Pop!] JR: McBaine's momentum carried him right on by the traps and into the guardrail on the outside! Talk about getting lucky, my God, the champ must have a horseshoe lodged somewhere up his ass! DD: Jake! That was actually somewhat clever! JR: Thanks. DD: Hah! Look at poor Brady, so disappointed! [That's right, Brady is visibly angry at McBaine's fortune although he did go torpedoing shoulderfirst into the guardrail, but he miss the deathtraps in front. The challenger wastes little more time carefully jumping off the open- ended apron and to the floor between the traps.. as he makes his way to McBaine who is trying to prop himself back to his feet using the now dented guardrail.] JR: Brady stalking over to his prey as the champion rubs out that right shoulder.. I'm not quite sure he sees Brady coming as Russ charges with a double axehand-, no! McBaine saw him coming and drove an elbow into his stomach! McBaine with a handful of hair.. as he attempts to ram Brady's face into the steel.. [Pop!] but Brady blocks putting his hands onto the railing! DD: Gah! JR: Backelbow by Brady now staggers McBaine! [Thunk! Pop!] And now it's the champion's face that hits steel! [Thunk!] And again! Brady grabs the champ by his armpits and heaves him.. [Crash!!!!! BIG POP!] JR: Into the first row he goes! The champ flung like a ragdoll over the guardrail and careening off a whole row of chairs as the fans spread out of the way of the champ and the predator! DD: G'damn it! Brady is firing on all cylinders right now, and that sucks donkey balls! JR: For you! But for the rest of us, there is nothing finer than what we are seeing right now! DD: Riiiiiiiight. JR: Brady hopping over the guardrail now as McBaine is crawling around trying to shake the cobwebs loose, but he better hurry.. because Brady has just folded a chair! [Big Pop! as Brady holds the metal folding chair above his head before.. THWACK!!!] JR: _Huge_ shot to the shoulderblades of the champ! And that dropped him to the floor! And now Brady is looking to drive the butt of the chair.. [THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!] [BIG TIME POP!!] DD: CHRIST! JR: OH MY!! Brady just driving the butt of that chair down into the champ's spine as McBaine just recoils in pain clutching his back to the elation of the fans here in the Cardinal Gymnasium. DD: That isn't fair.. nor it is justifiable! JR: Oh, ye poster boy of what is fair and justifiable! DD: Damn straight! [Brady drops the chair to his side.. as he smiles a tad to a nice crowd pop before grabbing McBaine by the sweat- drenched hair.. slowly peeling him off the concrete floor.. Brady using his other hand to point at a row of chairs still intact! BIG POP!!!] JR: Brady signalling for something big onto the row of chairs! He's going for broke early here, maybe he has no need for the scaffold.. or the spidernets.. just some good ole fashioned chairs! DD: You've seen McBaine's resiliency, don't ever count him out! JR: Standing hea-, no! [Heel Pop!] McBaine driving a fist right into the nether regions of Russ Brady and that doubles over the big man from Oklahoma and breathes new life into the champ who staggers back to his feet! DD: Get 'em Bad Eye! JR: McBaine with a vicious European Uppercut rights Brady up who staggers back.. and now forward.. [Clasp!] right into a chokehold by the Champ! He lifts!!! [TTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!! CCCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!] ["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: JE-SUS. DD: Awww yeah! The Bad Eye with a chokeslam into a row of chairs!!! Brady broke through a few.. dented the others.. and by God he's gotta be out like a light! Broken back, here comes Russ! JR: What a turn of events here as it's now Brady on the brink of destruction.. the champ proving he's come to play and tends to keep his belt! DD: Well, duh! JR: Eli Francois out to issue the standing ten count.. taking just a bit to get around the traps and such.. DD: He's wasting precious time! JR: Not like he needs it since McBaine is waving Francois off with a wicked eye.. apparently he knows what all of us can feel.. that Brady is far from done. DD: If you say so. JR: The champ standing over Brady.. who's.. yes, seems to have been busted open on the top of his head from that big chokeslam moments ago.. as he desperately crawls out of the wreckage looking for something to prop up onto.. DD: He won't need to, the champ is here to help him back to his feet. JR: Oh, that's reassuring. [McBaine does grab Brady by the now crimson-laced hair.. picking him up and just tossing him.. ..CCCCRRRRRAAAASSSSSSHHHH!!.. ..deep into the rows of chairs as they get farther back into the gymnasium!!!] DD: This rules! And it looks like they are making their way closer and closer to the bleachers set up behind the first ten or so rows of chairs.. and that can only mean good times to be had by all! JR: Brady being tossed around like a rag doll here as the champ.. pushes some fans aside as he continues to make a b- line for his opponent.. the fans in the arena letting loose with the booes to let McBaine know just exactly how they feel about him. DD: Like he cares? JR: Probably not.. but that won't stop our faithful fans here in New Orleans, not on a night where we've seen the return of Otto Verhoeven! DD: Oh christ, let it go already. [McBaine kicks aside a few stray chairs as he grabs Brady back to his feet.. driving a knee.. and then another.. and one more into his stomach.. holding him up as he sets a downed chair beneath them!] DD: Goodness, too much fun right here! JR: Brady at the champion's mercy here as McBaine is setting them both up under that chair.. this is just brutally dangerous right here.. DD: Brutally awesome! JR: McBaine ducking Brady under his armpit.. and now a double underho-, no! [Pop!] Brady fighting the double underhook.. shot to the kidneys of the champ.. and another.. and a third! McBaine is forced to let go! Brady staggering back in front of the bleachers.. DD: Gah! Get him! [McBaine charges..] JR: Right into a drop toe ho-[THUD!!! POP!!] AND McBAINE GOES FACEFIRST INTO THE BOTTOM STEP OF THE BLEACHERS!! MY GOD!! BLOOD JUST SPURTED OUT OF HIS MOUTH ON IMPACT!! DD: Sick! JR: Brady with a desperation move and it paid off tenfold as he has busted open the mouth of the champion who has rolled to the floor beside the bleachers clutching his mouth! DD: Bastard! That Brady is sick! JR: He's doing what he has to to give himself a chance to win, and that's all he can ask for! DD: Whatever. [Brady kicks aside some chairs as he gets to his feet.. walking around the end of the bleachers which are about four feet to his left.. the fans popping in anticipation as he's gone behind them in perhaps a search of the unknown.. [BIG POP! as Brady comes back around the corner with a _table_ over his head!] DD: Uh-oh! JR: Uh-oh is right, for McBaine! Brady quickly propping out the legs at the base of the bleachers now as the champ has tried to make his way up the bleachers but has fruitlessly only gotten to nearly the second step.. a good four or five feet off the ground.. DD: He's baiting Brady! JR: We shall see, as the big man from Oklahoma finishes propping the table and just smirks as he sees the champ's face gushing blood.. the helpless man crawling away in fear! DD: Fear?! Fear my ass! JR: Whatever it is, it looks like the champ wants none of his challenger! DD: Die, Jake, just die! JR: Brady stepping up onto the bleachers as he sets his sights on the stumbling and bloody champ.. Brady feeling the back of his head as if just noticing the cut atop his own melon.. DD: Courtesy of McBaine! JR: That it was.. and it seems to serve notice to Brady who grunts audibly.. hovering above McBaine on that third step up.. McBaine resting his head on the wooden bleacher row.. the challenger lifting the face of the champ up.. [Thud!] and drives it hard into the step! [Thud!] And again! [Thud!] And again! [Thud!] And a fourth time as the crowd cheers and McBaine's lifeforce splatters across the seating arrangement! DD: I doubt whoever was sitting there would want his or her seat back now. JR: Heh, no doubt. [The fans gather around the table at the base of the bleachers as the two big men battle it out a few rows up.. a good five or six feet from the floor. Brady, in obvious control.. pulls McBaine up and sits him down on his own pool of blood..] JR: McBaine at the mercy of the challenger here as Brady now taking potshots at the champ who takes each right hand flush in the mouth.. staggering and waving back and forth.. out on his feet! DD: Technically, he's not on his feet. JR: Thanks Mr. Wizard. DD: Huh?! JR: I don't know.. regardless.. Brady looking back at the crowd for approval.. but this could be a bad move as he's opening up just enough room for.. [And before Jake can finish.. Brady turns..] [Boo!] DD: Eye poke by the champ! He's got Brady walking back and forth on the row of the bleacher rubbing at his eyes! Brilliant counter by the champ who needs this time to recuperate badly! JR: Yes, yes he does.. as Brady tries to recover as quickly as possible.. but it may be too late as McBaine is up off his ass on the bleachers and just waiting for Brady to turn to face! DD: Yes!! He's back! Time for carnage supreme! JR: McBaine.. blood streaming from his mouth as he's just staring down his challenge who turns to face! Kick to the stomach double over the challenger! Standing headscissors on the bleachers! He lif-, no! [POP!] Brady dropped and went low!! He caught McBaine right in the jewels with an uppercut! McBaine is holding onto the bleachers lest he fall to the floor below! DD: This sucks.. Brady is a goddamn cheater! JR: The challenger, Russ Brady, is back to his feet.. standing headscissors of his own now! He lifts! And he turns to face the front of the bleachers with McBaine up on his shoulders! GOOD CHRIST!! HE'S GONNA LEAP!? DD: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! [And he does.. ..leaping off the third row of the bleachers.. ..a good six feet from the floor.. ..leaping out and towards the table on the floor.. ..will he make it.. ..YES!!.. ..CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] ["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: HOLY CHRIST!!! SITDOWN POWERBOMB OFF THE THIRD ROW OF BLEACHERS... _THROUGH_ THE TABLE ON THE BASE OF THE FLOOR!!! THE FANS HAVE ABSOLUTELY LOST IT AS BOTH MEN ARE DOWN!!! DD: That was fizzucking nuts, Jake! Nuts.. and I dig McBaine.. but it ruled so hard! JR: Eli Francois is scurrying over there and you gotta believe that one of these men may very well not make it up by the mandatory ten count! DD: And who could blame either of them, really? JR: No one, Dirk, no one. DD: Amen to that. [Eli makes his way to the carnage.. a mix of sawdust and blood in the air as both men are in heaps on the floor.. neither moving much at all. He starts his count..] ONE!!!! TWO!!!! THREE!! [Both men begin to stir as Brady seems to make more progress.. rolling onto his stomach..] FOUR!!! FIVE!!! [Brady does a push-up.. climbing to his knees and then to one knee to a HELLACIOUS POP! McBaine, however, is also now on his stomach.. both trying to beat the clock..] SIX!!!! [BIG TIME POP! as Brady gets to his feet.. almost falling backwards but using a nearby row of chair to catch his fall.. McBaine now onto a knee..] SE-[BOOOOOOOOOO!! as the count is cut off as a bloddied and wartorn McBaine rises to his feet.. his shirt cut to shit in the back.. his face bleeding nicely.. his eyes glazed over.. but he is up!] JR: My lord! What resiliency by both men! DD: You see?! McBaine didn't even need eight.. much less ten seconds to get up.. he's a warrior! JR: No denying the strength and stamina of our champion. DD: Damn rights! JR: McBaine leaning down now as he's rummaging on the floor for something.. I really can't tell what he is doing and furthermore.. it looks like Brady isn't about to give him time to do his scavenger hunt! DD: Boo! [Brady stalks over to McBaine.. grabbing him by the hair.. but it gives the champ the opening he needs.. as he brings his hand up off the ground.. and drives it into the top of Brady's forehead..] [SICK HEEL POP!!!] JR: MY GOD!! McBaine has a piece of that table in his hand!! He's gouging at the skull of Brady with that jagged piece of table!! That was what he was doing all along, baiting the challenger! DD: Damn right he was! Why do you ever doubt this man.. seriously? JR: Not sure.. but this is sick! He's got Brady bleeding like a stuck pig from the forehead now as Brady staggers away through the crowd clutching his head as McBaine just drops the wooden shard at his side.. the damage obviously already done! DD: This rules so hard man, so hard! JR: McBaine giving chase now as they both seem to be carrying themselves towards that stage which has seen it's fair share of brutality already tonight.. DD: Brutality knows no bounds like a McBaine match! JR: True enough.. McBaine right on the heels of Brady.. charging now.. and taking him down with a vicious running forearm to the back of Brady's skull.. sending him crashing into the base of the stage headfirst! BY GOD! DD: Maybe he broke his neck.. answer a ten count after that, I dare ya! JR: That's a real classy thought there. DD: Hey, not all of us can be role models like the Classiah. [The champ kicks a few chairs out of his way as he stalks up behind Brady who is clutching his neck at the base of the battlefield known as the Cardinal High School stage. McBaine looks around.. then points over towards the small concession area off to the right of the stage.. a haven of unused tables set up behind it..] DD: Awwwwwww yeah! Payback is a bitch, Russ, trust me.. you are about to find out just how big of a bitch it can be! JR: McBaine obviously seeing what he likes as he's picking up Brady onto his shoulder.. standing back and he charges.. [Thud! Heel Pop!] JR: And just drives Brady backfirst into the stage! He backs up! [Thud!] And again! The champ letting his prey fall to the base of the stage now as Brady slumps onto his side.. clutching that back with a look of sheer pain shining through the crimson-mask! DD: Great imagery my man! JR: Appreciated! DD: Looks like the Bad Eye has his sights set back on those tables, wooooooo! JR: Why yes he does.. DD: And look at the people at the concession stand scatter! [Yes, like the damn things from the Critters are coming to town.. everyone in the area scatters for their lives.. leaving only McBaine and a stack of unpropped, unused tables in the area. McBaine pulls out one.. now two.. dragging them under his arm as he turns the corner and back to the front of the stage. He drops them to the floor in front of the stage.. as the fans pop.. not so much for Brady who is back on his knees.. but for the first table being propped up in front of him.] JR: This just has bad intentions written all over it, Dirk. DD: Obviously, people don't use tables because it's fun.. they use em because they maim, damnit! JR: McBaine has one table up.. and is now propping open that second one.. seemingly trying to position is beside the first one.. slowly building himself a trap of doom.. and to think.. all that stuff in and near the ring.. the barbed wire.. the scaffold.. the traps.. none of which have been used.. DD: _Yet._ JR: Perhaps. DD: No, trust me.. even if he wastes Brady here.. he'll take him to hell.. which is currently back at ringside. JR: We shall see.. as the second table is propped.. McBaine setting his sights back on the challenger who is leaning up against the wall of the stage.. DD: And seemingly out of it, now, too! JR: McBaine methodically stalking over to Brady.. as he fires a big right into the face of the prone challenger.. Brady giving no signs of defense at all as McBaine scoops him up.. [The crowd pops decently for the power shown by McBaine as he military presses the near three-hundred pounder.. they pop maybe in thoughts of him being disposed through the tables as they boo when McBaine dumps him onto the stage itself!] DD: Why boo, dumbasses! Bigger and better things await up there, goddamn inbreds! JR: Dirk! DD: Like they can hear me?! JR: They can on TV! DD: Has that been invented yet in Louisiana? JR: [sighs] We apologize for Dirk Davidson, fans.. as the champ is back over towards those stacked tables.. the fans letting him hear it as he grabs another two tables.. under his arm again as he makes his way back to the front where two tables are already propped side by side.. DD: Rock on, McBaine! Set those bitches up.. leave no room for error! [The crowd pops BIG as McBaine opts to prop the next table ON TOP of the first one.. making the infamous double decker tables! He quickly sets up that second one on top of the second table on the ground! This has the fans absolutely lose it as he powers himself up and onto the stage.. and right into the waiting fists of Russ Brady!!!] JR: McBaine wasted too much time setting up those tables and now it's Russ Brady raining down the fists on the top of McBaine's head.. not giving him time to get back to his feet! Brady now opting to switch to clubbing forearms across the back of the champ who tries to cover up but to no avail! DD: G'damn it! I hate Russ Brady.. not as much as I hate the now _uncrowned_ City Jack.. but nonetheless! JR: Brady.. a mask of red.. picking up the champ.. knee to the stomach.. and another.. and another.. man is he really digging those knees deep into the stomach of the champ! He spins them both in front of the stage! DD: Noooooo!! Not again! They gotta be another six feet up or so.. gah! JR: Brady looks to be setting McBaine up for the fall through those tables! [The fans are all on their feet, cheering madly.. bloodthirsty in the least.. as Brady rips McBaine down and between his legs with a standing headscissors!] DD: NOT AGAIN!! PLEASE!! JR: Brady going for broke again! He lifts! [But this time.. McBaine counters! BOOOOOOOOOO!!] DD: Fight it Bad Eye!! Fight it with all you got! JR: Brady tries again.. but he can't get McBaine up all the way! And now it's McBaine lifting! But Brady won't go over the top! Big forearms to the back by Brady as he tries to soften up the champ for one more go! He lifts.. DD: But McBaine blocks again! He drops to a knee! [Collective OHHHHHH! Pop! as McBaine digs a fist into the midsection of Brady.. then popping up and cinching him in! Lifting and throwing!] JR: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! [..As Brady is hurled up and over the stage.. ..falling down.. ..down.. ..CCCCCCRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! ..CCCCCCRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!] ["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: McBAINE.. WITH A T-BONE SUPLEX OFF THE STAGE!!! BRADY JUST GOT SENT THROUGH ALL FOUR TABLES WITH THAT SICK SUPLEX!!! TABLES SCRAPS AND SAWDUST IS EVERYWHERE.. AND McBAINE IS JUST SMILING AT THE TOP OF THE STAGE!!! HE'S SIC.. HE'S GONE!! DD: HE RULES!! JR: McBaine is just looking over the edge.. and now he's.. he's backing up?! [With little time for any to breathe.. McBaine takes a running start.. ..and leaps off the stage.. ..twisting with an elbow turned downward.. ..landing in the pile of Russ Brady and table scrap!!!!!!!] ["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!!"] DD: McBaine is my fucking hero!!!!!! JR: MY LORD!!! McBAINE JUST LEAPT OFF THE STAGE AND LANDED.. I THINK.. A SUPER-SIZED ELBOWDROP ACROSS THE BODY OF RUSS BRADY AMIDST THE WRECKAGE!! ALL I KNOW IS THAT BOTH MEN ARE DOWN AND SOMEWHERE IN THE MESS OF TABLES!! DD: McBAINE FOR PRESIDENT!! JR: Eli Francois is near what can only be called a crash site.. and it looks like he's ready to administer another ten count! DD: You think?! JR: And here comes the count! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!! FOUR!!!!!!!!!!!! [The crowd begins to murmur as wood scraps start being displacing by the two underneath them.. a hand raising out of the wreckage to booes.. as it is McBaine's that is helping the big man off the ground.. getting him firstly to his knees. Bloodied to shit.. while Brady is still nowhere to be seen.] FIVE!!!!!!!!!!!! SIX!!!!!!!!!!!!! SEVEN!!!!!!!!!!! [The crowd rips into a boo as McBaine gets to his feet.. then pop like mad as Brady props up from the wreckage unbeknownst to McBaine.. getting onto a knee.. ready to drive himself up to his feet!] JR: Can he do it?! DD: I hope now! EIGHT!!!!!!!!!!! [MEGA-POP! as Brady gets to his feet.. a complete crimson-mask covering his face from laceration on his forehead and squarely on top of his skull.] JR: MY GOD, HE IS UP!!! AND McBAINE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW IT YET! DD: Damnit, turn around Bad Eye! JR: McBaine musta thought he had this won as he is catching his breath leaning on a chair a few feet from the carnage.. as he wipes some blood out of his eyes.. Brady sees the opportunity to strike! He dives towards McBaine! [TTTTTTHHHHHHUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!!!!!! HUGE POP!!!!!!!] JR: RUNNING BULLDOG SENT McBAINE FACEFIRST INTO THE SEAT OF THAT CHAIR!! WHAT A DESPERATION MOVE BY THE CHALLENGER! DD: I hate Brady.. Argh!!!!!! JR: Settle down Gigantor! [...] Both: AHHHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAH!! DD: Ok, you got me there Jake. JR: Russ Brady back to his feet and now he gets the liberty to wipe the blood from his eyes as the champion rolls on the concrete clutching his mouth which has to be busted all to hell.. maybe a lost tooth or three.. DD: In the least man, his mouth has been brutalized. Like he was suckin' on your mom's brass dil- JR: Dirk! DD: Had to do it, man, even if it meant dissing the champ. An opportunity is an opportunity. [Brady stalks over to McBaine.. grabbing him by the blooddrenched hair and starts basically dragging him back towards the deathtrap known as the GIW ring and surrounding area. The crowd begins to murmur again as they await more destruction as Brady fires McBaine past a few rows of chairs.. CCCCCLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNGGGG!!!] JR: Backfirst into the guardrail and _hard_ goes the champ! Brady charging! Clotheslin-, ducked by the champ who dumps Brady up and over the guar-, but Brady lands on his feet! The champ turns! [SSSLLLLLAAAAAAPPPP!!] What a ringing right hand slap by the challenger that took the starch out of the champ.. Brady looking behind himself now! [And right behind him is one of the deathtrap.. a big box with barbed wire in spidernet fashion lacing the top.. with what seems to be a pine or two of uncut glass directly underneath! The crowd begins to pop big as Brady turns back and hooks McBaine under his armpit!] DD: NOOOOOOOOOO!! JR: Brady lifts McBaine into the air!! Vertical suplex?! Brady drops back towards that spidernet! [Almost like slow motion.. ..we see them both fall backwards.. ..McBaine from a much higher angle.. ..down.. ..down.. CCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MONSTER, MONSTER, MONSTER FACE POP!!!] JR: GOOD LORD!! VERTICAL SUPLEX INTO THAT BOX OF BARBED WIRE AND, NOW, BROKEN GLASS!!! McBAINE TOOK THE BRUNT OF THE HIT.. BUT EVEN BRADY IS ROLLING OFF THE BOX CLUTCHING AT HIS BACK.. AS THE BACK OF HIS T-SHIRT WAS CUT TO HELL BY THE RAZOR-SHARP BARBED WIRE!! DD: But what about McBaine?! JR: Just look at the champ! His legs are lying motionless outside the box as he landed almost neck and upperbody first into the box of barbed wire and glass.. he's gotta be out of it.. and this could be the big momentum changer Brady was looking for! DD: Shit, it could be over! Screw momentum changed.. those boxes are serious shit, man! JR: And to think, that is only one of four boxes around ringside.. two on each open side.. another sits only a foot away from the edge of this one.. and that is littered with light tubes as well.. DD: Insane, man! [Eli Francois is about to count.. when Brady waves him off to a big pop from the crowd!] JR: Damn, Brady has a lot of retribution at hand and he refuses for the referee to make the count on this one! DD: He would gotten up anyhow! JR: The big man from Oklahoma kicks aside some loose barbed wire strands and shards of glass as he reaches down into the trap.. pulling out the head of McBaine.. and by God! McBaine's got a nasty gash of the top of his head, that's.. DD: Fizzucking disgusting. JR: For a lack of better words and underemphasis, yes indeed it is. Brady pulling the champ out of the wreckage and he's having to use all his power to lift the dead weight of the champ to his feet.. DD: McBaine is hurt bad, man, I think he may be unconscious.. and if so, Brady is wasting a huge opportunity not having the ten count issued. JR: I have to agree with that, you gotta take what is given to you. [Brady drags McBaine by the crimson-laden hair out of the spidernet as glass crack under their boots.. McBaine with a surprise effort, drives the blunt of his thumb into the eye of Brady which staggers the challenger back a few feet, McBaine buying himself just enough time to escape.. or try.. as he rolls into the ring and onto his stomach, his chest heaving with deep breathes as Brady staggers around on the outside trying to get his vision back.. the crowd booing at the ever-so-cowardly act.] JR: Brady with a look of pure anger as he looks around ringside for McBaine, finally spotting the champ back in the ring.. trying with all his might to push himself off the canvas.. DD: It's another baiting technique.. JR: I doubt it this time, Dirk, he's taken quite a brutal beating so far.. and that meeting with the spidernet trap had to take a lot out of him. DD: When are you gonna realize McBaine is not human in the least? JR: Lord. DD: Exactly. JR: Brady climbing up onto the apron now.. back into the ring goes the challenger with his eyes set upon his opponent.. and perhaps that GIW Heavyweight title at stake. DD: Bah! Don't count your chickens! JR: Before they hatch? DD: Exactly! JR: Brady stalking over to McBaine who is on one knee.. the challenge lifting him to his feet.. Irish whip! McBaine barreling down towards the spidernet ropes! [But the crowd sighs in disappointment as McBaine stops just inches from the ropes.. dead in his tracks with a look of surprise on his face, perhaps at the fact that he put the brakes on so fast..] JR: So close right there, but the champ evaded.. for the moment! Brady charging towards the back of McBaine! The champ turns! DD: Catch him! JR: Brady with a cloth-, NO! McBaine catches and heaves him backwards! [TTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [MONSTER, MONSTER HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!!!] DD: HOLY GOOD GOD YES!!! JR: McBAINE COUNTERED AND DROPPED BRADY CHEST AND NECKFIRST ACROSS THE SPIDERNET BARBED WIRE ROPES WITH A HOTSHOT!!! GOOD GOD WHAT A MOMENTUM CHANGER AS BRADY IS JUST STUCK IN THAT WEB OF DESTRUCTION!! DD: That is what the spidernet style is used for! It absolutely traps it's captive in barbed wire! It's beautiful! JR: Brady is hollering in pain but he's got no way out!! Everytime he moves he just cuts his chest, arms, and neck up even more! And look at McBaine! [The fans boo madly as McBaine smiles through the bloody face.. in pure ecstasy as he has his opponent at his mercy.. stuck in the barbed wire ropes.] JR: McBaine slipping out of the ring as Francois really can't make a count since Brady is not technically down at this time.. he's just, well, trapped. DD: That's so badass man, this makes the Brawlin' main event look like a fizzuckin' Patty Cake convention! JR: I wouldn't say that at all, although, I have no idea what the hell a Patty Cake convention entails. DD: Hrm, same here.. that was a damn stupid statement by me, disregard please. JR: I usually do. DD: Dick. JR: McBaine past the traps now.. and he's leaning over the guardrail.. [Heel Pop!] oh lord no! McBaine has a chair.. and you gotta believe he's getting ready to.. DD: Use Brady's back and skull as target practice! JR: This is sick.. Dirk, that's just so wrong! DD: And a ring filled with barbed wire and glass and lightbulbs is right? JR: Well.. hrm, good point. [McBaine rolls back into the ring on the farside of Brady.. chair in hand as he slowly gets to his feet using the chair to aid him.. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! as McBaine slams the chair onto the mat.. as he approaches Brady.. who is still stuck on the barbed wire ropes.. his back exposed.. his shirt already tore to shit from the box on the outside..] JR: McBaine truly has his challenger at his mercy right here as he gets in striking distance.. he lifts the chair high over his head.. and here it co-, NO! [MONSTER POP!] Brady with a desperately backkick that caught McBaine right in his family jewels! McBaine is bent over with that chair still firmly in his hand.. but he's hurtin' and hurtin' bad! DD: Goddamn this Oklahoma hillbilly! JR: McBaine trying to get his bearings under his as Brady.. [BIG POP! erupts across the gym as Brady yells out with pain and anger as he forcefully rips himself off the barbed wire.. his chest and neck showing fresh blood and tear wounds flowing freely.. not a pretty sight at all. But he's up.. and waiting for McBaine to turn around.. chair in hand..] JR: Brady is free and McBaine has no idea as he's still holding his jigglies in one hand and the chair in the other.. DD: Watch out, Bad Eye, he's right behind you! JR: Yeah, he heard you Dirk, no, truly, he did! DD: Shut it! JR: McBaine turning with that chair up at face level ready to strike but he has no idea! DD: Sheeit! JR: Brady dives forward! [TTTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [RIDICULOUSLY HUGE FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] JR: LUNGING LARIAT TO THE CHAIR BY BRADY!!! HE PUT THAT CHAIR RIGHT INTO THE FACE OF THE CHAMP AND HE HIT THE GROUND LIKE A LUMP OF BRICKS!!! WHAT A WICKED SHOT BY THE CHALLENGER!! DD: GAHHHHHHHHH!!! JR: Brady is pointing at Eli to make the call as he's barely able to stand, but he's up and that's all that matters right now! DD: Bullsheeit! JR: Francois on the call! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [McBaine rolls onto his stomach.. small pools of bled are left from where he was laying.. and a new pool forming where he is now.. really tough scene for the faint of heart.. as Brady also takes this time to whip his face away from the blood and rough cuts all over his face, shit, his whole body even.] FOUR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [McBaine yells as he powers himself into a push-up position.. ready to get up as the count is broken with a running elbowdrop to his back by Brady! POP!!] DD: Damn cheater!! Let the man get up first, you coward! JR: Brady saw that McBaine was going to get up and decided to get back on top of him while he was prone, smart maneuver by the challenger if you ask me. DD: I didn't. JR: True, but I don't care if you did or not. DD: Pooface. JR: Dingleberry! [And while our commentators take us back to grade school.. Brady has peeled McBaine into a kneeling position as he drags him facefirst towards the unprovoked as of yet other section of spidernet barbed wire ropes! BIG SICK POP!!!] JR: Brady has McBaine's face mere inches from the bottom strands of the barbed wire but the champ is fighting with all his might to keep his face out of harm's way! They both fight but Brady has the leverage!! He's gonna.. he's gonna.. [HUGE POP!!!] facefull of barbed wire for McBaine!! DD: JESUS! JR: BRADY IS JUST RAKING THE CHAMP'S FACE ACROSS THE RAZOR SHARP BARBED WIRE, BY GOD THAT IS SICK!!! HE WON'T STOP.. FRANCOIS IS EVEN BEGGING HIM TO STOP, BUT HE WON'T THE FANS ARE ABSOLUTELY LOSING IT HERE, THEY LOVE IT! DD: Sick southerners! This is sick, disgraceful, and not befitting of a champion! [Brady continues to rake the face of the champ on the barbed wire.. as McBaine manages a few grunts and yells of pain as he takes it full-on.. Brady yelling himself as he rakes with force and precision..] JR: Brady relentless here as.. thank God.. he finally stops the assault, as he opts to let McBaine rest his face in a state of crimson bliss on the barbed wire.. now dropped to the mat as blood is.. well.. forming in pools underneath the champ.. DD: This man is certifiable. JR: Brady backing away and hearing it from the crowd as they pop in approval of his actions, people have seen the lows for which the champ has stooped before, they are glad to see the shoe on the other foot. DD: Riiiiiiiiiight.. this is nutty and people are cheering, but if McBaine did this.. the place would become a near riot zone. JR: A price McBaine pays for being an assho- DD: Jake! [Brady lets McBaine roll around on the mat while he takes a much needed breather, McBaine rolling himself off the side of the apron and to the floor right next to two undisturbed spidernet traps.. the opposite side of which they fought earlier. Brady smiles as he sees McBaine flee.. seemingly ready to go after him.] JR: And back to the outside it goes.. and you gotta believe this is the last place McBaine wants to be right now. DD: How would you know? Ever been in this situation? JR: Well, no. DD: Then can it. JR: The champ back to his feet on the floor.. wiping the blood that has masked his face as the challenger runs across the ring.. [The crowd pops as Brady leaps off the apron.. TTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!!] [BIG TIME POP!!!!!!!!!] JR: OH MY!! BRADY WITH A DIVING SHOULDERBLOCK OFF THE APRON AND THAT CAUGHT McBAINE FLUSH IN THE SHOULDER AND SENT HIM CRASHING BACK INTO THE GUARDRAIL! DD: But lookat the "Bad Eye" he won't go down! JR: McBaine staggering back towards those traps.. and every so closer to Brady who quickly climbs back to his feet ready to seize the opportunity.. DD: Oh, not good afterall, it looks like the champ is basically out on his feet! JR: McBaine just staggering.. [POP!] and he's found himself right in front of the undisturbed spidernet trap with the barbed wire and lighttubes! Brady is just smiling through the blood.. he knows he has the champ at his mercy! DD: Christ, no! C'mon champ.. snap out of it! [But he's not.. the champ wobbles barely on his feet standing just in front of the trap.. Brady two feet in front of him.. gearing up.. and then pulling back with a right fist.. twisting his shoulder back for more torque!] JR: Could we see shades of Friday? DD: Huh? JR: When Devo absolutely crushed that kid who wanted his bike back with an uppercut from hell! DD: Ahhh, good movi-, hey wait! SHIT! JR: Brady unleashes forward.. [HEEL POP!] but McBaine ducked! DD: Yes! JR: Brady's momentum has spun him in a complete one eighty.. McBaine quickly and fiercely grabbing him into a rear waistlock.. good God no.. GOOD GOD NO!!! HE LIFTS!! [..Flashbulbs!.. ..as they both barrel backwards.. ..and down.. CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] ["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!!"] DD: JESUS CHRIST! JR: MY GOD!! McBAINE.. McBAINE WITH A RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX RIGHT INTO THE SPIDERNET TRAP OF BARBED WIRE AND LIGHTUBES!! BOTH MEN WENT IN HARD.. BOTH MEN WENT IN SKULLFIRST!! AND BOTH MEN ARE DOWN AMIDST THE SMOKE AND WRECKAGE LEFT OF THE LIGHTTUBES AND BARBED WIRE!! DD: That.. RULED! [The camera cuts to the trap.. now just a big, true deathtrap in it's worst. Pieces of lighttube exploded out from the trap and litter the ground.. strips of barbed wire raise over the trap.. the legs of both men can be seen dangling out from within the box! Their heads and upper torsos? Well, that's another thing altogether!] JR: Both men could very well be dead, Dirk! Cool for a moment.. but this is serious.. that was the worst.. I don't even know what to call it anymore! DD: That was torture.. McBaine knew the repercussions.. but he said screw it! Brady bore the brunt of that menacing suicidal maneuver! JR: He's lost it.. he's one hundred percent gone, Dirk! DD: And that is why he is the champ! [Meanwhile.. Eli has made his way to the wreckage.. and starts the infamous ten count of doom!] ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [Both men's feet start to move.. slowly.. showing signs of life that elicits some excite from the crowd.] FOUR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [Hands.. of who's we cannot tell.. creep over the edges.. white powder mixed with dripping crimson red blood jut out of the hands.. two in all..] SIX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [With that.. the champ sits up.. barbed wire and pieces of light tube stuck in his HEAD AND BACK! which gives out a menacingly sick pop.. blood pouring from everywhere on his upper torso really.. he looks around with sick amazement.. Brady seems to be moving as well.] DD: This is over, Jake. SEVEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [It is this time when McBaine yells as he pulls a hand down into the barbed wire.. pressing up and getting to his feet.. standing in the trap.. alive! The crowd rips into a sick HEEL POP for the bloodied to all hell champion.. as he looks down at Brady.. Who sits up!] DD: McBaine is up! The champ is up! Brady ain't gonna make it! JR: We shall see! Can Brady get up to his feet, will he, can he?! NINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TE- [MEGA, ROOF BLOWING POP!!!!!!!!! DD: NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! JR: BRADY IS UP!! HE LEAPT TO HIS FEET IN DESPERATION AS ELI FRANCOIS WAS ABOUT TO ISSUE THE FINAL SECOND OFF! BOTH MEN ARE TOE TO TOE.. AND NOW EYE TO EYE STANDING IN THE PIT OF BARBED WIRE AND LIGHTTUBES!! DD: THIS IS ACTUALLY QUITE AWESOME! [Dirk is right, for this is a scene where the entire place goes into small flashbulbs.. as the two beaten, bloodied, disgustingly cut warriors of the Grand Isle merely look at each other face to face.. eye to eye.. nose to nose.. no words being said, only bad energy.. only unspoken hate.. a sight to behold.] JR: Nothing but hate between these two men.. nothing but pure, unadulterated hate!! And neither can seem to finish the other off! DD: Maybe they don't want to? JR: Huh? DD: Maybe to both of them it's more fun to continual punish than to outright destroy. JR: Actually.. logical.. at least for McBaine. DD: Regardless, this staredown is downright freakish.. look at the cut and blood running down their heads.. their backs.. their chests.. their faces.. this is getting hard to watch Jake, even for me! JR: Yes, yes it is.. and they continue to sta- [HUGE, HUGE FACE POP!!!] JR: AND THERE GOES BRADY WITH A HUGE RIGHT HAND TO THE FACE OF THE CHAMP!! AND McBAINE FIRES BACK WITH A RIGHT OF HIS OWN!! LEFT BY BRADY!! RIGHT BY McBAINE! LEFT!! RIGHT!! LEFT!! LEFT!! LEFT!! BRADY HAS GOT THE CHAMP ON HIS HEE-, [HEEL POP!] BUT THE CHAMP WITH A RAKE TO THE EYES STOPS THE ASSAULT AND NOW IT'S McBAINE HIGHTAILING IT AS HE ROLLS BACK INTO THE RING!! COWARD! DD: Coward my ass, he's saving himself.. I mean.. let's face it.. there is still a mountain to climb here. JR: If you mean the mountain that is this scaffold above the ring, then yes, I agree. But it doesn't have to come to that, I hope.. because that could spell the end of a career, and who knows, a life if it all comes down to that. DD: Russian roulette is just fine by me.. as long as I'm not the one playing. JR: Very compassionate. [Brady rubs his eyes.. getting the blood out of the way as well as he rolls in after McBaine.. becoming the focal point of some brutal stomps by the champ!] DD: McBaine got on the top of Brady and used it to his advantage.. brilliant. JR: The champ with the advantage as he rains down big boot after big boot across the back of the head of the challenger.. the ring littered with pools of blood and a single dented chair left over from a little while back.. DD: Not to mention the barbed-wire that is still intact unlike at Brawlin' JR: Well, that was part of the focal point of the construction this time.. reinforcement of the ropes.. DD: I bet Brady appreciated that! HAH! JR: The champ stopping the assault momentarily here as he staggers around the ring.. you can just see the big gulps of air he's taking in as both of these men must be absolutely exhausted right now.. DD: Not to mention near the brink of passing out from blood loss.. it looks like a fizzuckin' Jason movie in there right now, Jake. JR: Yes, yes it does.. I'm personally having trouble taking it all in, but my job is my job, and damnit, we shall go on! DD: How noble. [McBaine wipes more blood out of his eyes as he walks over to the chair.. kicking it over into the center of the ring where it spins itself to a stop.. the crowd murmuring as Brady uses a bloody hand to rise to a knee.. grunting loudly as he stands up.. unaware of what is standing behind him..] JR: Brady is up.. but he looks out of it! DD: Turn around you hillbilly assclown! Meet your maker baby! JR: The challenger in real trouble here although I don't even think he knows it! He turns.. [Heel Pop!] and McBaine scoops Brady into a fireman's carry! DD: Do it, McBaine!! Blind Valley Driver!! JR: McBAINE GOING FOR IT ALL HERE! [POP!] BUT BRADY SLIPS OUT THE BACK! DD: Gah! JR: McBaine turns to face.. kick to the stomach double over the champ! Standing headscissors!! [BIG TIME POP!] BRADY IS GONNA GO FOR THE REDNECK ON THE CHAIR!! HE LIFTS!! [Disappointed Heel Pop! as McBaine fights it and gets set back down on the mat feet first!] JR: Brady lifts again! And again McBaine fights! And now it's the challenger with huge clubbing right forearms to the back of the champ trying to soften him up still.. that chair beneath the both of them.. blood, sweat, and tears being spent here in the Cardinal Gymnasium as the fans are on their feet! DD: Screw this inbred.. he's spent.. he can't even lift the champ into position for the Redneck.. JR: Dirk may be right.. as Brady goes for it a third time! [And again McBaine fights it.. this time using his upperbody to pull Brady up and over.. TTTTTHHHHHHUUUUUUUDDDDDDD!!!] DD: Back bodydrop and the back of Brady's head seemed to have hit the edge of the chair! Thank God, champ, you the man! JR: McBaine stumbling forward now as Brady rolls onto his face.. trying desperately to keep the momentum his.. trying to shrug off the minor chair nick of his skull.. trying to fight through the adversity! McBaine stumbling and looking more worse for wear than even Brady as he teeter close to the open end of the left side of the ring where they both were dumped just minutes ago with that giant-sized German suplex.. DD: Oh lord.. this can't be good.. that one trap is still undisturbed! JR: Oh.. my. [Yes, yes it is. The one with barbed wire and unbroken glass sheets.. a treacherous sight indeed!] JR: The challenger back to his feet.. looking up at his prey turning to face near the edge of the apron! DD: Hurry up and turn, McBaine, please! JR: And here comes Brady into a dead sprint across the ring!!!!!!!! McBaine turning but will he have time to move even if.. DD: GOOD GOD NOOOOOOOOOOOO!! [McBaine almost turns fully before being absolutely decleated by a running Russ Brady.. ..who tackles McBaine with a sick thud.. ..as flashbulbs go off instantaneously.. ..the momentum carrying them both off the apron.. ..propelling them down.. ..down.. ..down.. CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!] [UNEARTHING FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!] ["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: RUSS BRADY.. HE JUST.. HE JUST SPEARED McBAINE OFF THE RING APRON AND THEY BOTH LANDED RUTHLESSLY SQAURE IN THE MIDDLE OF THAT SPIDERNET FILLED WITH BARBED WIRE AND GLASS!!! GLASS FLEW EVERYWHERE.. THE FANS ARE GOING NUTS.. AND BRADY LIES MOTIONLESSLY ON TOP OF McBAINE IN THAT TRAP!!! GOOD GOD WAS THAT A SICK FALL!! THIS IS OVER, FANS, NEITHER MAN COULD POSSIBLY GET UP FROM THAT FALL.. DD: NO SHIT, MAN!! This one is done! JR: Eli.. the referee.. he's even stunned as he looks over into that trap from the ring apron.. and if looks can tell you anything.. he is almost green in the face.. he may even regurgitate right here! DD: Great.. fantastic. Just what we need. [Francois.. seriously looking sick to his stomach, apparently sucks it up.. and starts his inevitable count to ten.] JR: Game.. set.. match.. wheel out the gurneys now, we lost two fine warriors. DD: That's a tad ominous.. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FOUR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SIX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SEVEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [And it is after the seven, that Russ Brady.. virtually out of nowhere.. crimson-masked and rather crimson-bodied lifts his head up.. pulling back and grunting as he sits down on whatever is beneath him.. barbed wire.. glass you have it!] [MEGA-FACE POP!!!!!!!] JR: Brady is back in black!! The challenger is moving and making strides to get to his feet! And no sign of the champion! DD: This is bad.. oh so very bad! EIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [At eight.. Brady pushes himself to his feet.. to a wickedly VICIOUS FACE POP!!!! Unfortunately.. it turns into a slight boo as McBaine, a sick and twisted mess of a man, sits up out of nowhere as well.. running a cut to shit and bleeding profusely hand down the side of the contraption, looking for a brace.] DD: C'mon champ! Brady has climbed back into the ring, Champ!! Don't let him beat you with him on higher ground.. that's a goddamn disgrace! JR: WHAT?! DD: Motivation, damnit! MOTIVATION!! NINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TE-[DEAFENING HEEL POP, MAYBE THE BIGGEST SO FAR.. As McBaine in desperation leaps to his feet.. using the apron to break his apparent fall.. which he would have taken if not for the apron itself!!] DD: FIZZUCK YES!!! HE'S ALIVE!! JR: UNBELIEVABLE!! SERIOUS.. I CANNOT BELIEVE HE GOT UP, HELP OF THE RING APRON OR NOT.. THAT'S INSANE!! DD: and neither can Brady.. who's got a look of shock.. or anger.. or whatever, sprayed across his face.. along with the nasty gashes of war! JR: I cannot believe what I am seeing as these two continue to defy the laws of nature.. these two should have been gone long ago from blood loss but neither refuses to give an inch for the other! [McBaine stands with his head down.. dripping blood onto the apron that he leans his hands against.. everything of his bleeding profusely.. the same of which goes for Brady who stands wobbly in the ring as well.. but the challenger must press on as he walks over to McBaine.. popping him in the side of the face with a low angled kick.. staggering the champ who holds his ground.] JR: Ouch! That'll slap the taste right out of your mouth. DD: Not if you've strictly been tasting blood like these two have for the past forty-five minutes or so! JR: True enough, true enough. The challenger, the beaten and bloody Russ Brady pulling the champion and equally worn and torn "Bad Eye" McBaine up to the apron.. a hand full of blood-drenched hair in his grasp as he slowly pulls McBaine to his feet in the ring itself.. and by God.. look at McBaine's back! [Yes, what used to be a t-shirt is now a few torn strips with the white powder of the now broken lighttubes.. and red streaks of fresh flowing blood cutting through. Brady takes a look out around the area as he holds the champ at his mercy.. inciting quite the massive FACE POP!!] JR: Brady trying to regain some steam from the fans here in New Orleans.. a group that have seen perhaps the best of the best in independent wrestling put it all on the line tonight, culminating in this.. bloodbath. The champ in serious trouble now as the challenger looks revitalized through the crimson-mask.. he's seeking vengeance long overdue and that Heavyweight title.. DD: Wow.. nice, Jake! Almost gave me wood! JR: Good lord I hope not. DD: Indeed. JR: Brady pushing the champ back a tad now.. seemingly measuring the Bad Eye.. [Pop!] as he starts to pop him with right jabs.. big left hook.. he's using the champ as a punching bag! Brady drives a knee into the stomach of McBaine doubling the champ over.. and another dug in deep.. and one more! McBaine's body wanting to hit the mat but the challenger not letting him! DD: That Russ Brady is a damn bastard! JR: Brady holding up his prey.. searching where to go next.. [Pop!] and my oh my! He's pointed to the barbed wire ropes! He's gonna shred McBaine up just a tad more! DD: This man is sick! [Brady carries McBaine by the head towards the barbed wire.. McBaine possibly feeling danger coming as he resists as much as he could, but it's rather futile as a whole as Brady gets him within a foot of the barbed wire!] JR: The crowd is on it's feet here as Brady has a holds of McBaine's head from behind.. pushing it towards those strands of incoming pain and destruction! McBaine is in serious troub-, [MONSTER HEEL POP!] OH MY! HE WENT LOW!! McBAINE KICKED BACK AND GOT BRADY RIGHT IN THE NUGGETS!! THAT DROPPED THE CHALLENGER TO THE MAT!! DD: HELL YES!! FAIR IS FAIR! JR: Fair is fair.. what the hell do you mean by that?! DD: I don't know.. just let me speak.. I'm at a loss. JR: For a job, maybe! DD: Blow me! JR: That backkick gave the champion some time for a much needed rest as he's been brutalized as of late.. the challenger in Russ Brady absolutely taking it to McBaine but now on the canvas sucking wind and holding the family jewels.. DD: Man, I don't even know if McBaine meant to kick him there.. he looks so out of it.. [Cutting to the face, the sick bloody pulp of a face of McBaine.. with his eyes glassy and glazed over actually confirms Dirk's position.. but nevertheless.. McBaine lazily, it appears, drops off the apron and starts to walk to the side of the barbed wire ropes and metal bars that lead up to the scaffold high above the ring.] DD: Oh yeah! Would he even dare?! JR: I don't know.. but it really looks like the champ wants none of one Russ Brady even with Brady only on a knee on the mat.. trying to get his head with him again.. the champ walking over and placing a hand on the first metal bar of the siding! [The crowd absolutely LOSES IT WITH A MAD POP! as McBaijne slowly but surely puts his hands on the second bar.. a large metal pole that extends the four or five feet across the bridging of the side.. driving one boot.. and slowly the second onto the first rung.. effectively making his first step towards the top!] JR: My.. lord. DD: Go for broke, big man! He's gotta climb to follow.. and by then.. well.. JR: He'll be ready to pounce.. I'm not even sure if that's his idea.. I'm not sure if he's not just climbing to buy time to get away from Brady or not.. DD: Nonsense! JR: Russ Brady back to his feet now.. he's really wobbly and I'm not sure if he's anything but out on his feet as he looks around.. he's going up, Russ! DD: Like he can hear you? I'm not sure he doesn't think he's in Tulsa right now. [Brady, wobbly kneed, looks around ringside for his opponent, his hated rival, finally catching McBaine with his feet on the second rung of the siding of the scaffold.. only three more steps to glory as each is a good two and a half feet apart. Brady slowly, but with some purpose in those eyes, towards that side of the ring.. hoping to the side near the barbed wire as McBaine gets a foot onto the third rung..] JR: And here comes the challenger! Brady reaching up.. [POP!] and he's got McBaine's left foot snagged.. he's trying to pull McBaine off the side of that scaf-, [Oh!] Ouch! But the champ got the foot free and damn near took Brady's arm off with a kick as he thrusts the leg up onto the third rung! DD: And that keeps him out of Brady's reach without him having to climb along to catch him! JR: That's right fans.. Russ Brady is gonna have to climb the scaffold to get to the champ and perhaps his destiny! [Pop!] And there he goes! DD: Now.. this is going to get interesting! JR: going to _get_ interesting? What the hell have you been watching tonight? DD: Porn. JR: Oh. [With that dropped.. Brady does climb onto the first rung.. grasping the second step with his hands.. fully perched.. he takes a grab at McBaine's foot but it's too late as he makes it to rung number four! _Everybody_ is on their feet as Brady slowly but surely starts to get one boot.. and now the second onto rung number two..] JR: Brady climbing at just about the same pace as the champ.. taking a swipe at the feet of McBaine.. but the champ kicks them away futily.. DD: Like a fl- HOLY SHIT! [With that.. the entire place turns their heads to the entranceway where at least six.. maybe eight security guards burst out from behind the entranceway.. yep, eight in all, four on each side as they carry the damndest contraption you've ever seen!] JR: What in the good hell is that?! DD: I.. don't know.. but it's big and long.. like my johnson! [Kidding aside.. it seems to be as long as two spidernets on the floor put side to side.. and about two feet wider.. nearly taking up the entire width of the entranceway.. we still can't see what is in side of the contraption.. which seems about a foot thick and bordered by solid wood. They continue to haul the big piece of whatever towards the ring..] JR: It looks like things, as you would say, are about to get interesting! DD: I did and you bashed me! JR: Heheheh, I know! DD: And look at McBaine.. he's near made it to the top! JR: That's right.. in all the excite of that trap.. or whatever the hell it is.. I forgot that the duo are still trying to beat the clock and make it to the top of that scaffold, and by God McBaine is pushing himself up and over onto the wooden.. DD: Plank? JR: It's as thin as one.. and just a foot wider.. like I've said many times.. we can't affor- DD: Jake, spare it! We know man, we know. JR: McBaine heaving himself onto the platform stomach first as Brady has now reached the fourth rung and is only a few paces behind him at best! DD: This rules! And in comes the box! [Yep, the box has moved past the commentators as Jake and Dirk stand up to peer inside.. we hear them sigh with amazement, yep, as it passes them.. the security now pushing it into the ring as they carefully sidestep the floor boxes..] JR: My.. God. DD: Is that what I think it was? JR: The biggest goddamn spidernet trap I have ever seen in my life! And everything was in it.. DD: I saw man! Barbed wire spidernet style.. lighttubes.. glass.. SCORPIONS! JR: SCORPIONS?! DD: Ok, no scorpions.. but glass and tubes and barbed wire and stuff, it's insane! JR: And it looks like they are positioning it square in the center of the ring!! Right over the scaffold that is hanging a good twelve feet above.. where Brady has just gotten to the top.. McBaine crawling towards the middle still, my God! [The fans are absolutely going nuts and eating this up like mad as both warriors.. bleeding profusely from everywhere.. have made what we can only imagine as their final destination of the evening.. twelve feet above a box of death.. on a scaffold.. with the biggest prize of them all on the line! I'll let Jake say it.] JR: Does it get any better than this? DD: No it doesn't Jake, no it doesn't. JR: Both men are lying flat on their stomachs on the platform high above the ring as it's now McBaine trying to scramble to his feet.. using the scaffold and now the wires or braces right above it to steady himself as Brady prepares to do the same! DD: This is pretty simple.. the first mistake loses.. well, maybe, everything. JR: Reality setting in for Dirk finally as he is absolutely right.. more is on the line here than just a title, although that's what'll be in the paper and our newsletter and the media.. lives are at stack here! DD: Well, it's not like Saddam or Osama are up there, but we get your point. [The crowd is just explosive, like um diarrhea, as Brady and McBaine both get to their feet.. McBaine turning around to face his challenger at opposite ends of the scaffold now that slightly sway from side to side.. both men freezing as the blood drips off their foreheads.. chins.. shirts.. pants.. eyes locked right onto each other.. McBaine pointing down at the contraption below that gets the crowd BOOING LIKE MAD! That is until Brady grins devilishly.. doing the universal throat slash with his thumb to the neck blowing the roof off the place.. and infuriating the champ who charges!] JR: HERE COMES McBAINE CHARGING ACROSS THE SCAFFOLD!! AND BRADY IS CHARGING TO MEET IN THE CENTER!!! THE PLACE IS GOING NUTS AS THEY COLLID WITH FISTS A FLAILIN'! DD: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! JR: Left by the champ! right by Brady! Left by McBaine! Another right by the challenger! Left! Right! Left! Right! Neither man giving a single inch as they play Russian roulette high above the ring.. high above that sick demonic trap set below! DD: Somebody is going to the fizzuckin' morgue! JR: You may be right, Dirk, you may be right! DD: And they still trade punches atop the scaffold.. man, this rules! JR: Both men laying into the other as blood splashes to the ground with every right and left that connects! [OHHH POP!!] And finally McBaine breaks the absolute melee with a vicious knee to the gut! HE TRIES TO PUSH BRADY OFF THE SCAFFOLD.. BUT THE CHALLENGER BREAKS THE PUSH WITH A BACKELBOW FREEZING THE CHAMP IN HIS PLACE! DD: Dude.. JR: I'm getting a Dell? DD: Fuck off. I'm trying to tell you.. look at the scaffold.. that shit ain't gonna last all that much longer! [Dirk is right, for once.. the reinforced.. plywood it seems.. is teetering side to side and seems to be slowly but surely bending to the point where it may break and splint in half at any given moment.. of course, our two warriors have no idea.. yet.] JR: You are right.. but it's not about the ominous fate of the scaffold right now, but rather on those standing tall above the ring! Both men trying desperately to maintain balance and get the upperhand as the crowd is absolutely on the edge of their seats.. as am I! The champ trying to regain his balance after that backelbow.. but he doesn't get a chance as Brady delivers a stiff kick square in the stomach of the champ.. DD: Oh no! Don't double over from the pain.. not here! JR: McBaine is doubled over.. and BRADY PUTS HIM IN THE STANDING HEADSCISSORS!! THE CROWD IS GOING NUTS AS HE'S GONNA ATTEMPT TO END IT HIGH ABOVE THE RING WITH THE REDNECK.. HIS FACE FIRST PILEDRIVER!! HE LIFTS!! [Major disappointed pop! as McBaine wriggles free again, for at least the fifth time this match!] DD: Lift him Bad Eye! JR: The Bad Eye using his back muscles.. [TTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!] [OH SO CLOSE HEEL POP!!!!!!!!] DD: BIG BACK BODYDROP NEARLY PUT BRADY OFF THE SCAFFOLD AND IT DEFINITELY SHAKED THE FOUNDATIONS OF THIS HANGING CATASTROPHE! JR: AND NOW IT'S THE CHAMP IN CONTROL.. BUT NOT FOR LONG [POP!] AS BRADY POPS RIGHT BACK TO HIS FEET! McBAINE HAS NO IDEA HE'S UP.. HE TURNS!! DD: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! JR: KICK TO THE STOMACH AGAIN!!! STANDING HEADSCI-, NO!!!!! [DEAFENING HEEL POP!!!] McBAINE IMMEDIATELY WENT LOW AND NOW HAS THE CHALLENGER VULNERABLE!! DD: GET EM CHAMP!! [With the opportunity at hand.. McBaine lifts Brady onto his shoulders.. the fans letting loose a horrible heel pop as he looks down..] JR: Don't do it Bad Eye!! DON'T DO IT!!!!!!! CHRIST!! HE'S GONNA LEAP!!!!! DD: YYYYYYYEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!! [And he does.. ..the champ leaps forward off the scaffolding.. ..into a sea of flashbulbs throughout the gymnasium.. .as him and the challenger fall down.. ..down.. ..down.. ..McBaine starting to pull Brady's neck down towards the Earth.. ..down.. CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!] [BIGGEST MOTHERFUCKING HIGHSPOT POP OF THE NIGHT!!!! s shit truly goes everywhere!!!!!!!!!!] JR: HOLY FUCK- DD: JAKE!!!!!!!!! JR: SCREW THIS!! MY FUCKING GOD!! McBAINE JUST LEAPT TWELVE FEET OFF THAT SCAFFOLD.. HE LEAPT AND HIT THE BLIND VALLEY DRIVER INTO THAT KING OF THE SPIDERNETS BELOW!!! HE KILLED THEM BOTH!! THEY ARE BOTH FUCKING DEAD!! MY GOD, THAT WAS SUICIDE.. AND HE DID IT WITHOUT THINKING!! BARBED WIRE AND LIGHTTUBES AND GLASS SHOOT EVERYWHERE AND I THINK EVEN SOMEFANS MAY HAVE FALLEN VICTIM TO THE DROP OF THE MASSIVE MONSTERS HURTLING INTO DOOM!! UNBELIEVABLE!! DD: BELIEVE IT JAKE!! McBAINE WILL DO ANYTHING.. AND HE HAS!!! A DRAW IS NO TITLE CHANGE MY MAN!!! THIS IS RULAGE! JR: ELI FRANCOIS IS CHECKING TO SEE IF BOTH MEN ARE ALIVE.. BUT THAT'S FUTILE!! JUST RING THE BELL.. JUST RING THE GODDAMN BELL! [It will not be so.. as Francois looks around as the crowd is actually somewhat quiet in shock as blood.. barbed wire.. glass shards.. and residue and pieces of light tube are _everywhere_. There is really nothing else Eli can do.. but count.] ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JR: Over, done.. finito.. man, what a brutal affair! DD: Don't count your chickens. TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FOUR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SIX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SEVEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [The fans start to buzz fucking huge as a hand arises from the big ass box.. so caked in dried and fresh blood that we really can't make out who it belongs to! Nevertheless they pop!] JR: WHOSE HAND IS THAT?! DD: I have no idea! JR: At least one man is alive! EIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [A head.. equally caked to hell with blood and stuck with barbed wire is seen.. but through the lighttube residue and everything.. we can't make out who the hell it can be..] NINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [And as Francois nearly signals for ten.. a man lunges up.. vaulting himself out of the box.. catching and snagging onto the barbed wire ropes.. keeping him up!] DD: HOLY SHIT!! JR: HOLY SHIT IS RIGHT!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!! TEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [DING!! DING!! DING!!] AH: Ladies an' gentlemen.. the winner of the match.. ..AND _STILL_ YOUR GIW HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD.. "BAD EYE" McBAINE!!!!!!!!!!!! [THE MOTHER OF ALL HEEL POPS ERUPTS!! as the one-eyed champion is held under exhaustion and pure unconscious, really, by the barbed wire ropes.. McBaine almost looking without care as to what is holding him up as long as it does the trick..] DD: HE DID IT AGAIN!! HE FIZZUCKING DID IT AGAIN!! JR: McBAINE ISN'T HUMAN, DAMNIT, NOBODY COULDA SURVIVED THAT FALL.. AND BRADY SURE AS HELL DIDN'T.. HERE COMES THE PARAMEDICS AND YOU GOTTA BELIEVE BOTH MEN ARE GONNA NEED THE ATTENTION AS THE CHAMP IS NOW PASSED OUT LAYING ON THE BARBED WIRE ROPES AND BRADY IS STILL STUCK IN THE TRAP!! THIS IS DISGUSTING.. BRUTAL.. DD: AND THE PERFECT WAY TO END THE MIGHTMARE IN NEW ORLEANS! JR: DEFINITELY.. MOST DEFINITELY!! FANS.. WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS AND DIDN'T GET SICK, BUT WE GOTTA GO.. SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS.. GOODNIGHT!! WHAT A GODDAMN NIGHT!! [We fade out to the scene of paramedics rushing the scene.. as the fans are now sitting in shock with hope that _both_ big men are ok. Neither of these men will ever be the same, that one thing.. is for certain.] Grand Isle Wrestling 2002