[The UPN logo flashes across the screen, and then a moment later onto a black screen, the 
following words are stamped in white text....]

         *<The following program may not be suitable for all viewers.>*
         *<It contains violence, adult language and some adult themes.>* 
          *<Viewers should not attempt any of the feats seen on this>* 
          *<program, as they are performed by trained professionals.>* 

                       *<Viewer discretion is advised>*


[Open to Larry Van Keel, standing in front of the Mid South Coliseum. He's wearing blue jeans 
and a plain white polo shirt, and it's daytime, so this was obviously recorded earlier.]

LVK: In today's wrestling world it's all about who can become the latest, greatest superstar. 
It's all about what's fresh and what's new - non-stop excitement in a world with a short 
attention span. River City Wrestling prides itself on being at the forefront of this new age
of wrestling, providing *the* most fast-paced, exciting action anywhere in the world.

[He pauses and looks back at the arena looming behind him.]

LVK: But this week we take a step back from the non-stop adrenaline rush which normally makes
up the weekly Impact broadcast. We've taken a little detour from the fast lane, and made a
stop here in Memphis, Tennessee, where behind me stands the Mid South Coliseum, the traditional
home of southern-style wrestling, and the scene of many legendary battles over the years.

[The neon sign on the arena features the words "Tonight: RCW's Tribute to Old School 
Wrestling!"]

LVK: Tonight we here at River City Wrestling pay tribute to the men who paved the way for 
wrestling as we now know it. In one night we will give homage to wrestling the way it used 
to be, and give our thanks to the legends of this sport - those whose blood was shed in 
places like the building behind me, who gave their very lifeblood to their sport.

[Pause.]

LVK: These men have never really been given the credit they deserve, but tonight they will. 
Sit back now and enjoy, as we present a very special edition of Impact. This is our....

....Tribute to Old School.

[Fade out.]

[Fade back in to a video montage, as the stirring guitar and piano opening of Kid Rock's "Only
God Knows Why" begins to play.]

"I've been sittin' here 
Tryin' to find myself 
I get behind myself 
I need to rewind myself"

[Clip: Slow motion - the original Creed, he of the red glove, pins Lord Byron to the mat, 
banishing Byron from the IIWF and winning the Intercontinental title.]

"Lookin' for the payback
Listen for the playback 
They say that every man bleeds just like me" 

[Clip: Tex Violence is down on the mat during one of his epic battles in the now-defunct 
Longhorn Wrestling Council. He cranes his head and looks up, and the camera zooms in on his
pained face, which is a crimson mask of blood.] 

"And I feel like number one 
Yet I'm last in line 
I watch my youngest son 
And it helps to pass the time" 

[Clip: Legendary "Fireball" Ken Keening celebrates after winning a match in the British
Columbia Wrestling Federation in 1978, holding six-year-old son Michael (future wrestler as
The Banshee and as half of the Ghost Dancers) triumphantly on his shoulder in the ring.]

"I take too many pills it helps to ease the pain 
I made a couple of dollar bills still I feel the same" 

[Clip: A burlap sack hangs above the ring from a hook, the side of the bag featuring large $$$
signs, in one of those old school ladder matches with money as the ultimate goal.]

"Everybody knows my name 
They say it way out loud 
A lot of folks f**k with me 
It's hard to hang out in crowds"

[Clip: A huge capacity crowd in the now-demolished Dallas Sportatorium rise to their feet,
going beserk for some kind of action in the ring.]
 
"I guess that's the price you pay 
To be some big shot like I am 
Outstreched hands and one night stands 
Still I can't find love" 

[Clip: The Epitome of Cool brawl with the Down Boys in EMWC; then a shot of the EoC holding
the World tag title belts into the air triumphantly.]

"And when your walls come tumbling down 
I will always be around"
 
[Clip: A series of short clips of Steve "the Fury" Kowalski sending unfortunate opponents into
the mat with his world-famous Skullpump finisher, then standing tall in the ring with the IIWF
World title.]

*Guitar solo*

[Clip: "Cowboy" Ken Curtis and "Outlaw" JW Hardin do battle in the now-defunct SCRA, going 
toe-to-toe with big punches, then brawl into the crowd; then Curtis waving goodbye to the fans
after losing his retirement match at RCW's Glory pay-per-view.]

"And when your walls come tumbling down 
I will always be around"

[Clip: Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven swings a wheelchair down onto the head of Requiem three
times in the now-defunct MLWO, and stops to smile sadistically.]

"People don't know about the things I say and do 
They don't understand about the s**t that I've been through 
It's been so long since I've been home" 

[Clip: A wide shot of a large tour bus, then a shot of a large wrestler climbing into the bus,
a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, but his face never showing. Finally a shot from out of
the bus window as it travels through a wide-open plain.]

"I've been gone....I've been gone for way too long 
Maybe I forgot all the things I miss 
Oh somehow I know there's more to life than this" 

[Clip: The same unidentified wrestler sits backstage, slumped forward in a chair, his long
hair hanging over his face as he rests his tired head in his hands; Another shot of the 
screaming fans inside of packed-out arena.]

"I said it too many times 
And I still stand firm 
You get what you put in 
And people get what they deserve"

[Clip: Slow motion of "Outlaw" JW Hardin hitting Joe Petrow with his Cattlebuster DDT during
the original IIeW supercard, then standing triumphant.]
 
"Still I ain't seen mine 
No I ain't seen mine 
I've been giving just ain't been gettin' 
I've been walking down that line" 

[Clip: The Outlaws stand in front of an Ultimate E-Wrestling backdrop, with a backstage 
interviewer, the Ultimate Tag title belts draped over their shoulders; then the Fraternity
Boys in the ring in EMWC.]

"So I think I'll keep on walking 
With my head held high" 

[Clip: The Down Boys strut to the ring, with the IIWF World tag title belts around their
waists, and huge smiles on their faces.]

"I'll keep moving on and only God knows why 
Only God.....only God 
Only God knows why" 

[Clip: Slow motion - Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven nails the Subway Psycho with his Meathook
Chokeslam, and pins him in the IIWF.]

"Only God....knows....why why why only God knows why"

[Clip: "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder stands over "Outlaw" JW Hardin, snarling, "Get yer ass
up, 'legend'!" at his groggy foe, before putting the boots into Hardin.]

"Take me to the river 
Won't you take me to the river...hey hey hey" 

[Clip: And finally we see "Playboy" Ronnie D and "Dreamlover" Trey Porter hanging from a 
loop holding an EMWC title belt high above the ring, as a ladder tumbles down underneath them.
The clip hits slow-motion as they hang, kicking at each other in desperation. The slow-motion
gets slower and slower until it finally freezes.]

[The music fades, and we too, fade out.]

[Black screen.]

[And then the following graphic slams into the screen....]


 
  ______  __                     
 |   __ \|__|.--.--..-----..----.
 |      <|  ||  |  ||  -__||   _|
 |___|__||__| \___/ |_____||__|  
                                 
                                 
     ______  __  __          
    |      ||__||  |_ .--.--.
    |   ---||  ||   _||  |  |
    |______||__||____||___  |
                      |_____|
 
       ________                      __    __  __               
      |  |  |  |.----..-----..-----.|  |_ |  ||__|.-----..-----.
      |  |  |  ||   _||  -__||__ --||   _||  ||  ||     ||  _  |
      |________||__|  |_____||_____||____||__||__||__|__||___  |
                                                         |_____|
    


  +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
        __   _    _   ____    _____   ____   _______
       |  | | \  / | |  _  \ /  _  \ /  __\ |__   __|
       |  | |  \/  | | |_| / | |_| | | |       | |
       |  | |      | |  __/  |  _  | | |       | |
       |  | | |\/| | | |     | / \ | | |__     | |
       |__| |_|  |_| |_|     |_| |_| \____/    |_|

  +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
                  THURSDAY JANUARY 31, 2001
  +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
  

          ___       ______         _    __         __             __      
         / _ |     /_  __/  ____  (_)  / /  __ __ / /_ ___       / /_ ___ 
        / __ |      / /    / __/ / /  / _ \/ // // __// -_)     / __// _ \
       /_/ |_|     /_/    /_/   /_/  /_.__/\_,_/ \__/ \__/      \__/ \___/
                                                                                                                                                   
         ____    _       _      _____          _                       _ 
        / __ \  | |     | |    / ____|        | |                     | |
       | |  | | | |   __| |   | (___     ___  | |__     ___     ___   | |
       | |  | | | |  / _` |    \___ \   / __| | '_ \   / _ \   / _ \  | |
       | |__| | | | | (_| |    ____) | | (__  | | | | | (_) | | (_) | | |
        \____/  |_|  \__,_|   |_____/   \___| |_| |_|  \___/   \___/  |_|
                                                                         
                                                                         


[And suddenly we're inside the Mid South Coliseum, packed with fans who are screaming at the
top of their lungs! But wait...no pyro? Where's the usual blast of intense fireworks? There's
no place for that tonight, because it's Old School baby!

The camera pans through the excited crowd, and immediately it's apparent that RCW has gone for
a different ring and entranceway set-up this week. 

There's no wide entranceway, ramp or stage this week - in fact, it's kind of hard to see where
the aisleway is. The camera zooms in to show a string of police officers making a slight 
parting in the crowd on one side, so that must be where the wrestlers are going to come from.
Back behind the crowd stands not the usual RiverTron, but a smaller old-school big-screen. 
Surrounding the ring is a *very* small ringside area, about half of what is usually there. 
The ring railing is different too - just a simple dark blue fence-like structure. The biggest
difference is that there is no padding on the ringside floor, leaving the cold, hard concrete
floor exposed. 

There isn't just the usual one ring, but two! Both rings feature a white mat, devoid of the 
usual logos. The ringropes are different as well - the top one is red, the middle one white,
and the bottom one blue. The turnbuckle covers are black, featuring the RCW logo. From the 
ring apron of both rings to the floor hangs a white apron-skirt, which bears the words "River
City Wrestling - A Tribute to Old School" in thin red lettering.

The camera pans up from the ring, and takes in first a large structure some 20 feet above the
arena floor. Supported by four large posts, is a wooden scaffold, as long as both rings 
together, and half as wide as one ring. Ladders lead up both ends of the structure. Then the
camera zooms upwards beyond even that, to show a huge metallic double-sized, roofed cage 
hanging from the rafters!

Finally the camera comes to rest on the ringside table where our esteemed presenters, Larry Van
Keel and Rick "Precious" Perle are sitting. Larry has on a dark blue suit, with a white shirt
and red tie, while Rick is also strangely wearing a suit, something which happens almost never.]

LVK: Hello everyone, and welcome to this *very* special edition of Impact! I'm Larry Van Keel,
and of course you all know my announcing colleague Rick Perle, and tonight we're going to be
bringing you a tribute to wrestling the way it used to be.

RP: Back in the good ol' days Van Keel, when I was strutting my stuff in the ring.

LVK: Yes indeed. As you just saw, the entire set-up tonight is drastically different, harking
back to the way arenas were set up many years ago. That's not all that's different - tonight's
matches will have a distinctive Old School feel to them, and for our main event, how could you
get any more Old School than a Wargames match?

[Rick bursts out into a smile.]

RP: Oh-ho man, I can't wait for that one Van Keel. To me, a Wargames match is the pinnacle of
wrestling - it's the Super Bowl of wrestling eef you weel [wink]. 

LVK: We don't yet know who's going to be competing in that match, other than that the two teams
will represent RCW boss Clint Fletcher and RCW president Miss Cherry. The huge cage is hanging
up there in the rafters, and of course we've got two rings set up for that match later on 
tonight. As you also saw, there is a scaffold set up, although we're not yet sure who will be
fighting up there.

RP: Whoever it is, I pity them.

LVK: And fans, just moments ago I learned that Chris Courtade has made a challenge for a match
with Rembrandt, and that Rembrandt has accepted. It seems that Courtade and Rembrandt have 
some bad blood after what went down on Impact last week. And get this folks....their match 
will be....

[Dramatic pause.]

LVK: ...a Texas Bullrope match!

RP: Alright!

LVK: Many of the matches for tonight have not been announced, but what we do know is that the
first match of the night, which will take place in just a few minutes, is a special 12-man 
Match Gimmick Bunkhouse Stampede. Our technicians are on their way out here now to construct
a small cage around one of the rings, and all 12 men will fight in it. After 4 of them have
been pinned or have submitted, a giant roulette wheel containing many old school match gimmicks
will be spun, to decide the next type of match. Then when another two men have been 
eliminated, the wheel is spun again, right down until we have just one wrestler left, and
they are declared the winner!

RP: It sound complicated, but that's gonna kick ass!

LVK: While our technicians get to work, let's head backstage and hear from one of the 
wrestlers who'll be competing in this opening match!

[Fade to backstage...and Rosco Riggins. Draped behind him: a banner bearing
the RCW logo. His eyes: intense. His visage: determined.

Riggins is not dressed in his normal attire but rather 'street clothes'.
Dark jeans and black, heavy boots adorn his lower body and feet, a black
t-shirt over his torso and his taped hands sheathed in brown, heavy leather
gloves. Clenching and unclenching his hands in anticipation, he looks
straight into the camera, as if trying to look into the eyes of each and
every one of his opponents. Then he speaks his voice deep, commanding yet
calm and collected.]

RR: Tonight is all about tradition. This match, a match with twelve men,
unknown rules. A match...a night with uncertainties. However one thing
_is_ certain. The wheel will spin once...twice...three times...and a
fourth. A cage, two rings, twelve men, rules and stipulation undetermined.
Some would fear the uncertainty...

I don't.

[He pauses, his hands rubbing together.]

RR: I don't feat something that doesn't exist. Tonight, here in what many
call the spiritual home of 'old school' one thing will be certain. After
four spins of the wheel, after held breaths, after the blood, sweat and
tears one thing _will_ be certain. A winner _will_ be certain.

[A point to his chest, a look of defiance, of determination, of utter,
complete, absolute certainty...and we fade.]

[Fade back in to the ring, where the cage is almost complete. It's one of those old school
cages which looks like nothing more than an oversized fence, standing no more than 9 or 10
feet above the mat. The camera then pans over to ringside, where a huge vertical roulette 
wheel has been set up, and Lindsey Catalano stands beside it.]

LVK: There's the wheel fans. Indian Strap match, First Blood match, Coal Miner's Glove match
- they're all on there! And now we're gettiing ready for the introduction of the wrestlers, 
so let's go to David Stokes!

[David Stokes stands in the ring as the cage is finally completed. He draws his microphone 
to his mouth.]

DS: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is a special Match Gimmick Bunkhouse Stampede. The 
wrestlers are allowed to come dressed how they want, and they must all battle inside of this
cage until four men are eliminated. After that, the special wheel will be spun after every 
two eliminations, until there is a winner!

[POP!]

DS: Already in the ring....Quicksilver, Brian Hale, Cal Clarke, Tommy Kain, Shane Destiny and
Chris Gotham!

[Quicksilver wears his usual silver mask, but also wears a black Slipknot t-shirt and black
jeans. Hale wears his usual blue tights, but also a white RCW t-shirt. Clarke wears his usual
black tights, and a black t-shirt which reads "Tennessee Sucks". Kain wears blue jeans and a
ripped white t-shirt. Destiny wears blue jeans and a white RCW t-shirt. Gotham wears baggy 
grey pants and a flak-jacket!]

DS: And now....

["If You Want Blood, You Got It" by AC/DC plays over the PA as Bob Jablonski makes his way
to the ring, led by Coach Grapes Gilmour. Jablonski is wearing a Flyers t-shirt, blue jeans
and cowboy boots complete with spurs.]

DS: Introducing first....one half of Team Canada....


"BONE BREAKER"


BOB JABLOOOOONNNNSSSKIIIIIII!!!!!


[Prince's "Rasberry Beret" comes over the PA as there are some slight boos
from the crowd.]

# One #
# Two #
# Three #
# One, two, three #

[Lights start to flicker to the music as Lenny Getz steps out from the
entrance portal. Getz is decked out in a pair of wrestling jeans, some
work boots, and a t-shirt. His fists are taped and he is sporting
elbowpads. Getz stands at the top of the aisle for a moment before he
heads down to the ring.]

DS: Weighing in at 233 pounds and hailing from Des Moines, Iowa. Here
is... 


LENNY GEEEEEEEEEEEETTTTTTZ!


[Getz breaks into the "Getz Strut" half way down the aisle, eliciting
another round of small boos from the crowd. Getz gets to the ring and
slides in under the bottom rope. He gets to his feet and does the "Getz
Strut" again. He stops and cackles much to his own delight. His music
stops playing.]

["Last Resort" by Papa Roach begins to play, and a shrill scream fills the air. 
Down the makeshift aisle comes Demon Boy Ishrinku, wearing his usual black army 
fatigue pants, black combat boots, a black t-shirt with a red "Screamin' Demon" 
head on the front and black tape on his forearms hands and wrists.]

DS: He is the Screaming Demon....


DEMON BOY ISHRIIIIIIIINNNKUUUUUUU!!!!


DS: Next....

[Suddenly, Sevendust's "Redefine" begins blasting over the speakers. The
crowd immediately responds with an almighty heel pop as Vic Morrison
emerges from the entrance portal, decked out _not_ in his usual ring
attire, but, strangely enough, an untucked white dress shirt and a pair of
jeans -- not exactly your standard Bunkhouse Stampede attire, save for the
jeans. Vic also has the Light Heavyweight title draped over his right
shoulder.]

DS: The current World Light-Heavyweight champion....


VIC MORRIIIISSSSOOONNNNNN!!!!!


[As Morrison reaches the ringside area, he glances up at the cage around
the ring with a rather emotionless look in his eyes -- a look that's of no
shock to anyone. After discarding the belt, Vic unbuttons the top buttons
of his dress shirt and enters the cage.]

["Sal pa Fuera" by Puya begins to play, and without his usual flair, Raya 
Oscura comes down through the sea of outstretched hands, dressed in his usual
black outfit and mask.]

DS: The former two-time Light-Heavyweight champion....


RAYA OSCUUUUUUUUUURRAAAAA!!!!


#KILLING IN THE NAME OF!#

[The excited crowd comes to their feet as Rage Against The Machine's
"Killing in the Name Of" hits over the PA system. Blue lights flash through
the arena as the entrance way is ignited with strobe like flashes. The
audience's volume increases as smoke fills the entrance way.]

[A figure steps through the smoke and the crowd let's out a positive, and
loud POP! Pausing at the top of the ramp is Rosco Riggins looks deadly
focused.]

DS: And finally, from Edmonton, Alberta, weighing in at 245lbs...


ROSCO RIIIIIIIIIIIGGINS!


[Riggins is a well built, strongly toned fighting machine. Thick legs, wide
shoulders and heavy neck show the posture and look of a true fighter. His
head is shaved clean as is his face, although he sometimes sports a 5
O'Clock shadow on both. Riggins walks with the grace and balance of a well
oiled machine, obviously strictly dedicated to his chosen endeveour. A
slightly crooked nose, strong features, tanned skin and intense demeanor
show why he has the reputation he does.

Riggins comes dressed for war. Heavy dark pants and thick boots cover his
lower body, a black T-Shirt covers his torso and brown, heavy work gloves
cover his taped hands.]



 __    ___ __      ______________________________________________________________
| _ \ /  _\\ \    / /
| U < | |_  \ \/\/ /            Gimmick Match Bunkhouse Stampede
|_|\_\\___/  \_/\_/
              \        Participants: Chris Gotham, Rosco Riggins, Cal Clarke, 
  Written by   \  Shane Destiny, Vic Morrison, Lenny Getz, Brian Hale, Tommy Kain, 
    Fletch      \   Demon Boy Ishrinku, Raya Oscura, Quicksilver, Bob Jablonski.
                 \_______________________________________________________________



*DING DING!!!*

[A big ROAR goes up as the battle commences inside the cage, turning the confines of the
metallic structure into a flurry of action.]

LVK: Remember fans, the battle will stay in the cage until four wrestlers have been 
eliminated, and then the wheel will be spun for the first time!

[Amongst the flurry of activity, certain rivalries can be spotted - Jablonski against 
Gotham, Getz against Clarke, Ishrinku against Oscura, and of course, Morrison against 
Destiny. For the most part it's kicking and punching, but the first real move comes in the
form of a dropkick from Raya Oscura, which sends Demon Boy Ishrinku crashing into the side 
of the cage....]


*KAH-LANNNNGGGG!!!*


RP: Goddamn, I hate this crap. It's too hard to see what's going on! It'd be easier to call
the fight for the last barbecue rib at the Hopper household!

[The all-out brawl continues, with punches and kicks thrown left, right and center. A few 
wrestlers go down to the mat, and combatants switch battles constantly. Suddenly a camera
catches Vic Morrison dragging Shane Destiny's head across the cage, opening a nasty cut on
his forehead. But Destiny fights back and returns the favor! Across the ring, Rosco Riggins
sends Quicksilver crashing to the mat with a German suplex.]

LVK: It really is an all-out brawl right now fans, and I think it's a fair assumption that
it's every man for himself!

[Riggins is taken down by a Tommy Kain dropkick, as Morrison leaves Destiny down in one
corner, and rams punches into both Lenny Getz and Cal Clarke, before grabbing Quicksilver 
by the mask and lifting him into the air.....]



*THUUDDDDDD!!!*



LVK: There's the first big move of the match - a brainbuster suplex by Vic Morrison!
















ONE!!!






















TWO!!!!!






















THREEE!!! 

RP: There goes Quicksilver!

[As Quicksilver leaves the cage, Morrison has no time to celebrate, as he is immediately
drawn into a melee involving Brian Hale, Bob Jablonski and Chris Gotham. Meanwhile, Tommy
Kain tries to execute a huracanrana on Rosco Riggins, but Riggins simply drops down....]



*THUUDDDD!!!!*



LVK: OH! SITOUT POWERBOMB BY RIGGINS!!

















ONE!!!























TWO!!!!

























THREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

RP: Damn, they're falling like flies!

LVK: There goes Tommy Kain, and we're down to 10!

[Kain drags himself from the cage, while Riggins and Raya Oscura start to go at it. Across
the ring, Demon Boy Ishrinku has Brian Hale backed into a corner, and fires away at him with
knife-edge chops. The Morrison-Destiny rivalry continues, as Vic sends Shane into the ropes,
but Destiny ducks a clothesline attempt. The full ring comes into play though, as Destiny 
collides with Lenny Getz, sending them both tumbling to the mat. Morrison begins to stomp
away at Destiny, but is then nailed from behind by a Chris Gotham axehandle. Bob Jablonski
sends Cal Clarke to the mat with a powerslam, but Clarke kicks out of the pin.]

LVK: Lots of action happening all over the place fans - it's happening thick and fast.

[The battle continues, but suddenly Brian Hale finds himself face down on the mat, being 
pulled into a dragon sleeper variation by Shane Destiny! FACE POP!!]

LVK: OH BOY!! DESTINY STRANGLE ON BRIAN HALE!!!

RP: He tapped!!

LVK: And that means three are eliminated. One more, and the next phase of the match comes 
into play!

[As Hale climbs from the cage, Demon Boy Ishrinku throws Cal Clarke facefirst into the cage,
and then turns to start firing punches into Vic Morrison. Clarke struggles up to his feet, 
but suddenly finds himself in the grasp of Raya Oscura. Oscura knocks Clarke back to the mat
with a spin kick, and then runs at the ropes.....]


*THUUUUDDDDD!!!!*


LVK: ASAI MOONSAULT BY OSCURA!!!!













ONE!!!!
























TWO!!!!!


























THREEE!!!! 

RP: And that's the fourth guy! Down comes the cage!!

[Within seconds, a team of backstage crewmembers attack the cage, whacking away at it at the
corners, and unhinging the four big metal sides. Then in a flash they are on their way back
up the aisle, with the cage sides between them. Hale, Clarke, Quicksilver and Kain circle
around the ring, as the battle continues in the ring.]

LVK: Well, I guess the wrestlers aren't going to stop fighting, but let's have the spin of
the wheel anyway!

[The camera cuts to Lindsey Catalano by the big wheel, looking all sexy and stuff. She gives
it a big spin.....]

*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*

*clack*

*clack*

*clack*


*clack*


*clack*



*clack*



[And the wheel slows to a stop, on.....]


LVK: INDIAN STRAP MATCH!

RP: How the hell are they gonna do that with 8 guys in the ring?

LVK: Well, it's going to be interesting to see what unwinds!

[A ring attendant appears with the leather strap, and throws it into the first ring! POP!!
There is an immediate scramble for the six-foot-long strap, but it finds its way into the
hands of two men - Chris Gotham on one end, and Demon Boy Ishrinku on the other. Meanwhile,
Riggins and Destiny have made their way into the second ring to continue to battle, while 
Morrison and Oscura pick up in familiar territory - trying to kill each other. Lenny Getz 
runs into the ropes, and does his Getz strut, to somewhat of a POP! But suddenly, Gotham 
and Ishrinku look at each other, come to an unspoken decision, and charge....]





*GYUUURRKK-THUUUDDDDDDDD!!!!!*





[BIG POP!!!!]





RP: SWEET MERCIFUL CRAP!! Gotham and Ishrinku clotheslined Getz with the strap, while he was
doing the Getz strut! THE BASTARDS!

LVK: It seems to have been a short-term alliance though, because now Gotham and Ishrinku are
going at it!!

[Ishrinku pulls on the strap, bringing Gotham stumbling towards him, where Ishrinku strikes
out in his own infamous way!]




*PFSSSSSSSSHHHHHHH!!!!*




RP: HOLY CRAP!!! RED MIST RIGHT INTO GOTHAM'S EYES!!!

[Ishrinku then begins to choke Gotham with the strap, but has his attention taken elsewhere
by a quick kick to the back of the head, courtesy of Raya Oscura. Oscura grabs Ishrinku and
throws him from the ring, before going out after him. Spotting the discarded strap, Vic 
Morrison picks up one end and attaches it to his wrist. He pulls on the strap, but suddenly
finds it taut. He looks up, and sees the other end attached to....]

LVK: DESTINY!! VIC MORRISON AND SHANE DESTINY ARE JOINED BY THE INDIAN STRAP!! THE BITTER 
ENEMIES!!!!

[Immediately Morrison and Destiny begin a tug-of-war, both pulling on their end of the strap,
in a bid for the advantage. They pull, pull, and pull, until suddenly Destiny stops pulling,
and allows himself to be pulled.....]


*THUUUDDDDD!!!*


LVK: OOHHHH!!! DESTINY WITH A THUNDERING ELBOWSHOT, AND DOWN GOES VIC MORRISON!!!

[Meanwhile, the lumberjacks come into play for the first time, as Bob Jablonski finds himself
up against Clarke, Kain and Quicksilver at ringside. He succumbs to a beating, and is rolled
back into the ring. In the second ring, Rosco Riggins tries to German suplex Chris Gotham, but
Gotham answers back with a mule kick, and then makes the cover. But Riggins kicks out at two.]

LVK: This match is getting wilder by the second fans!

[Morrison and Destiny are now free of the strap, and Destiny throws Morrison into the second
ring, before climbing in after him. But he finds himself faced with Chris Gotham first, and 
he starts to trade blows with the former two-time Gateway champ. Soon Riggins, Gotham, 
Morrison and Destiny are all brawling in a tight group in the second ring, while in the first
ring, Bob Jablonski is recovering, getting up to his hands and knees. Raya Oscura spots an 
opportunity, and runs into the ropes to gain speed, before sprinting across the first ring, 
stepping up onto Jablonski's back, and then onto the first set of ropes, springboarding 
himself into the air, and coming crashing down on all four wrestlers in the second ring!! 
HUGE HIGHSPOT POP!!!]

RP: HOLY GUACAMOLE!!! OSCURA'S A FRIGGIN' MADMAN!!!

LVK: What a move by Raya....who can always be counted on to take things to the next level in
any match!

[With Oscura, Riggins, Gotham, Morrison and Destiny all recovering on the mat in the second 
ring, the battle continues in the first ring. Getz hiptosses Ishrinku out of the ring over 
the top rope, and suddenly the Demon Boy finds himself up against four lumberjacks. Those 
aren't bad odds for the Screaming Demon though, who simply grabs a chair and begins swinging!!



*CLAAANNKKKK!!!*



*CLAAANNKKKK!!!*




*CLAAANNKKKK!!!*




*CLAAANNKKKK!!!*




RP: SWEET JESUS!!! ISHRINKU'S TAKING ON ALL THE LUMBERJACKS....AND WINNING!!!

[Back in the ring, Getz takes the strap, and begins to wrap it around the groggy Jablonski's 
neck. He wraps it a good four or five times, and then repeats what he did to Ishrinku, 
hiptossing him over the top rope. But the difference is the strap, which Getz keeps hold of!
He pulls on it, leaving Jablonski hanging from the ring...literally!! PROTEST POP!!!]

LVK: OH MY GOD!!! BOB JABLONSKI IS BEING GAROTTED!!!

RP: It's a good old southern-style lynching!! HANG THE CANUCK!!

[Ishrinku, never being one to let a good opportunity pass, turns, with the chair still in his
hands, and sees Jablonski fighting for his life. He grins sadistically, and swings....]






*KAH-LUUUNNKKKKKKK!!!!!*






[MASSIVE PROTEST POP!!!!]






LVK: OH MY GOD!!! A VICIOUS CHAIRSHOT BY ISHRINKU ONTO THE DEFENSELESS JABLONSKI!!! 

RP: Van Keel....Jablonski's not moving!!

[Getz lets go of the strap, allowing Jablonski to slump to the concrete floor, where referee 
Ray Quinn immediately rushes over to check on him. He signals for medical help.]

LVK: This doesn't look good. 

RP: Eh, another elimination. Down to seven.

[Ishrinku rolls back into the ring, and begins laying into Getz, who decides that discretion 
is the best part of valor, and high-tails it into the second ring. Ishrinku goes to chase, but
doesn't see Oscura standing by the two sets of ropes in between the two rings. Raya grabs the
ropes, jumps up, and springboards off......]




*THUUUUDDDDD!!!!*




LVK: SPRINGBOARD DROPKICK BY OSCURA!!!

[With Oscura and Ishrinku down in the first ring, the battle continues in the second ring.
Chris Gotham is playing human punching bag for Rosco Riggins, while Vic Morrison and Shane
Destiny continue their all-out war. Gotham starts to beg off, on his knees in front of Riggins,
but Riggins will have no part of it. But suddenly Lenny Getz comes running in and nails a 
dropkick right to the middle of Riggins' back, sending him tumbling from the ring. Three of
the tired, but very pissed off, lumberjacks rush over and start to beat and kick at him.]

LVK: This is real war of attrition here Rick!

RP: You've gotta have eyes in the back of your head, as Riggins just found out!

[Gotham gets back to his feet, and swings at Getz, but Lenny ducks the blow, and slams a 
forearm down onto Gotham's back. He then wrenches Gotham into a standing headscissor, and
lifts his legs into the air....]




*THUUUUUUDDDDDD!!!!!*





RP: PILEDRIVER!!!

LVK: Chris Gotham's head was driven viciously into the mat, but Lenny Getz doesn't seem to be
going for a pin!

[Getz climbs to his feet and....well, what else? He struts~!]

RP: Whoo! Struttin' his stuff!

[With Gotham flat out on his back in the middle of the ring, Getz runs into the ropes, comes
rebounding off, looking like he's about to drop an ordinary elbowsmash. But then suddenly he
jumps into the air and spins, before coming down with his outside elbow!]

RP: THE CORKSCREW ELBOWDROP!!!

LVK: And *now* Getz makes the rather arrogant cover!











ONE!!!!
























TWO!!!!!!

























THREEEEEE!!!!!

RP: Byebye Gotham. Nice to see ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!

LVK: That means we're down to six, and it's time for the next spin of the wheel!

[Cut over to Lindsey, who gives the big ol' wheel a spineroonie..er...spin.]


*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*

*clack*

*clack*

*clack*


*clack*


*clack*



*clack*



[And the wheel slows to a stop, on.....]


LVK: DEAR GOD!!! A COAL MINER'S GLOVE ON A POLE MATCH!!!

RP: What's that I hear? It's the old school corny match gimmick meter hitting overload!

[A couple of ring attendants make their way down the aisle with a huge pole between them,
while another one pulls the Indian strap from the ring. The attendants climb into the ring,
which is a bad move when a certain Demon Boy is around....]

RP: OH CRAP!!! LOOK OUT RING GUYS!!!





*PFSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHH!!!!!!!*





[HUGE SHOCK POP!!!]






LVK: MORE RED MIST FROM ISHRINKU!! THIS TIME RIGHT INTO THE FACE OF ONE OF THE RING 
ATTENDANTS!!!






*THUUUDDDDD!!!!!*





[ANOTHER SHOCK POP!!!!]






LVK: GOOD GOD!!! ISHRINKU NAILED THE OTHER ATTENDANT WITH A NORTHERN LIGHTS BOMB!!!

RP: Holy sh[bleep]! He really *is* a freakin' loon!

[Ishrinku grabs the pole the two men were carrying, but then spots the coal miner's glove 
one of them was carrying. He grabs it, and with a grin of maniacal glee, puts it onto his 
right hand! HEEL POP!!!]

LVK: HEY! That pole was meant to go up, with the first person to climb the pole being able 
to use the glove! But the pole isn't even up, and Ishrinku has the glove!

RP: Well, that's good for Ishrinku...and bad for everyone else!

[Lenny Getz is the first to try his luck, and he is quickly dispatched with a 
heavy-glove-assisted right hand. Vic Morrison jumps onto Ishrinku's back from behind, 
grabbing for the glove, but is sent tumbling to the mat by a judo throw/snapmare-type move.
Vic rolls to his feet......]

RP: DAMN! Morrison got hit by the gloved hand and went down like he got shot by an elephant
gun!

LVK: I don't really like anyone's chances of getting that glove off of the Demon Boy!!

[Letting rip with a piercing scream, Ishrinku stands in the middle of the first ring, 
beckoning for the other wrestlers to "come get some". But it's not a wrestler who steps 
forward....]

LVK: Referee Ray Quinn is telling Ishrinku that he has to give up the glove, so that it can
put up on the pole!





*THWAAACCCKKKKK!!!!*






[HUGE FREAKIN' SHOCK POP!!!!]







LVK: NOOO!!!!!!

RP: SWEET MERCIFUL CRAP!!! HE LAID OUT QUINN!!!!

LVK: THIS HAS GONE WAY TOO FAR!!

[Standing over the fallen referee, Ishrinku grins maniacally, but his expression changes 
as Raya Oscura suddenly rushes him, catching the Demon Boy with a spin kick to the back of
the head. This drives Ishrinku down to one knee. Oscura brings him back up, and attempts to
send Ishrinku into the ropes, but the Demon Boy reverses it....]




*THUUUDDDD!!!!*




RP: Big lariat by Ishrinku!!! HE'S UNSTOPPABLE!!!!

[Leaving Oscura down on the mat, Ishrinku reaches into his pants and produces two small 
objects, which he begins fiddling with. The camera cuts back to Oscura, showing him struggling
up to his feet, as Ishrinku finishes whatever he was doing, and turns towards Raya.....]









*FWOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*










[DEAFENING PROTEST/SHOCK POP!!!!!!]












RP: HOLY HOT POTATO!!!! A GOOD OLD-FASHIONED MEMPHIS-STYLE FIREBALL!!!!

LVK: GOOD GOD!!! OSCURA'S MASK IS ON FIRE!!!!

[The flames only lick from Oscura's head for a second or two, before he drops to the mat and
pats them out with his hands, but the effect is still devastating. Oscura writhes in pain, 
parts of his burnt black mask peeling away.]

LVK: WHO IS GOING TO STOP THIS MADMAN?!?!

RP: Um....that little Japanese guy?

[It's hardcore referee Happy Ichinawa! He climbs into the ring, and signals for the bell!]

LVK: I think Happy is disqualifying Ishrinku, and with good reason!!

[Ishrinku looks at the short man yelling at him in Japanese, and of course he understands 
every word that's being said, but he still doesn't show any recognition. Instead, Ishrinku 
simply grabs Happy by the hair, cocks his gloved hand, and swings....]

LVK: OH NO!!! AND NOW ISHRINKU HAS LAID OUT HAPPY ICHINAWA!!!

RP: Now what's he doing? Leaving?

[Indeed, that's what the maniacal Ishrinku does, simply sliding from the ring. The 
lumberjacks...well, they know better than to get in his way.]

LVK: Demon Boy Ishrinku has been disqualified, and he's finally leaving the match, but only
after causing complete mayhem!

RP: Wait! Oscura's getting up!

LVK: His half-burned mask is hanging from his face....

[HUGE FACE POP as Oscura looks up the aisle, sees Ishrinku disappearing into the sea of
people, and slides from the ring!]

LVK: OH BOY!!! RAYA OSCURA PROBABLY SHOULD GET SOME MEDICAL ATTENTION, BUT INSTEAD HE'S 
AFTER ISHRINKU - HELLBENT ON REVENGE!!!

[Oscura tears up the aisle, disappearing into the crowd. Back in the ring, Ray Quinn is 
finally getting back to his feet, and he sees Oscura go, and again signals for the bell.]

LVK: Now what?

RP: I think Oscura's been counted out, so that leaves us with our final four!

LVK: And another spin of the wheel!

[Cut to Lindsey, who somehow through all of this has remained unscathed, along with the wheel.
She grabs by both hands, and spins....]


*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*

*clack*

*clack*

*clack*


*clack*


*clack*



*clack*



[And the wheel slows to a stop, on.....]


LVK: A TEXAS DEATH MATCH!!! NOW WE'RE TALKING!!!

RP: This'll separate the men from the boys!

LVK: We've come down to Rosco Riggins, Vic Morrison, Shane Destiny, and newcomer Lenny Getz!

[As Morrison and Destiny continue their war in the second ring, Riggins and Getz make their 
way over to the first one. But their battle doesn't stay in the ring for very long, as Getz 
slides out to take a timeout, and Riggins slides straight out after him. They are left 
unharrassed by lumberjacks, who all seem to have congregated around the ring containing the
Morrison/Destiny battle.]

LVK: Riggins and Getz are now outside the ring, and remember fans, under Texas Death Match 
rules, falls count anywhere! Once a wrestler is pinned, if he cannot answer a ten count, he
is eliminated!

[Riggins starts to lay into Getz with forearm shots, but suddenly Lenny reaches into the
crowd and grabs a camera from a fan.....]


*SMAAASSHHH!!!!*


[HARDCORE POP!!!]


RP: YEAH! Lenny is HARDCORE!

LVK: Uh, I think that was a sign of desperation, not anything to do with being "hardcore".

[With Riggins stunned, Getz drapes him throatfirst over the ring railing, and then drops an
elbow down across the top of Rosco's back, driving his throat into the cold, hard steel!
Riggins drops to one knee, coughing and spluttering for breath. Getz, hardly at home outside 
of the ring, climbs back into the first ring. Meanwhile, in the second ring, Destiny is on the
offensive against Morrison, and is really giving it to him, which sends the crowd into a 
frenzy. He nails Vic with a series of forearm smashes, and then hooks him from behind...]




*THUUUUUDDDDDD!!!*




LVK: OH! Nasty back suplex by Shane Destiny, who suddenly appears to be a man possessed!

[Firing in a series of kneestrikes to Morrison's midsection and ribs, Destiny then quickly
hooks him, and sends him crashing down to the mat....]



*THUUUDDDD!!*


LVK: BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX!!!

















ONE!!!!























TWO!!!!!

























THR-But NO! Kickout by the World Light-Heavyweight champ!

[Destiny drags Morrison up again and hoists him skyward in a vertical suplex. But Morrison
drops down to his feet, and slams an angry fist into the back of Destiny's head, the very 
area where he wrenched free a clump of flesh and hair not so long ago. Morrison follows up
by nailing Destiny with a hard-hitting enzuigiri!]

LVK: What a kick by the champ, and now he's making the cover!!














ONE!!!!























TWO!!!!!

























THR-NO! Kickout by Destiny!!

[Meanwhile, back in the first ring, Riggins has finally made his way back in...]

LVK: OH BOY!! Rosco Riggins looks pissed off to the max!

[Riggins catches Getz and throws him into a corner, where he starts to unload with STIFF 
knife-edge chops!]



*SMACK!!!*



[Crowd: WHOOO!]



*SMACK!!!*



[Crowd: WHOOO!]




*SMACK!!!*



[Crowd: WHOOO!]




*SMACK!!!*



[Crowd: WHOOO!]



LVK: WHAT AN ONSLAUGHT BY ROSCO RIGGINS!!!

[Finally stepping away, Riggins lets Getz slump forward to the mat. He then drags the newcomer
to his feet, and applies a front chancery. He lifts Getz up into a vertical suplex, and then
in mid air turns him and drops him down into a powerbomb....]






*THUUUUUUUUDDDDDDD!!!!!!!*







[HIGHSPOT POP!!!!!]







LVK: HE CALLS THAT MOVE THE CLOCKWORK ORANGE CRUSH!!! RIGGINS WITH THE COVER!!!!





















ONE!!!!


























TWO!!!!!

























THREEEEEE!!!!!!!

[FACE POP!!!]

LVK: But remember fans, that doesn't mean that Getz is eliminated! He has ten seconds to get
up!

[Ray Quinn begins the count....]



*ONE!!*



*TWO!!!*



*THREE!!*



*FOUR!!*



*FIVE!!!*



*SIX!!!*



*SEVEN!!!*



RP: GETZ IS UP!! He had to use the ropes to get back to his feet, but he beat the count!!

[Back in ring two, Morrison nails Destiny with a series of punches, and then hooks him from
the side....]







*THUUUUDDDDDD!!!!*








RP: HOLY CRAP!!! WHAT A MOVE!!!

LVK: AN EXPLODER SUPLEX!!!

[But Morrison doesn't cover straight away. He climbs to his feet, and angrily points to 
himself, which brings a wave of boos. Finally, after spitting some angry words at the crowd,
Vic drops down into the cover.]

LVK: Here's the pin!












ONE!!!!
























TWO!!!!!

























THREE-


[FACE POP!]


LVK: NO! Destiny got his shoulder up!!

[Both wrestlers climb to their feet, and Destiny nails a quick clothesline. They climb up
again, and this time Morrison hits the clothesline. They struggle up more slowly this time,
and fight a bit, before finding themselves back to back, with their arms hooked. Morrison 
tries for a backslide, but Destiny fights back, and tries to pull off the move himself. 
Backwards and forwards they grapple for leverage.]

RP: Look at this! A classic battle to see who can pull off the backslide!!

LVK: It looks like Destiny's going to win the battle....

RP: NO! Morrison!

[Morrison drops down to his knees, and backslides Destiny, bringing a big OLD SCHOOL POP from
the crowd.]

LVK: ONE!!!!


















TWO!!!!!






















BUT NO!!

[They both climb to their feet, and Destiny swats at Morrison with a frustrated elbowshot. 
He follows up with a kneestrike to the ribs, and moves in behind the World Light-Heavyweight
champ, applying a rear waistlock......]







*THUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!*






[HIGHSPOT POP!!!]







LVK: A GERMAN SUPLEX BY SHANE DESTINY!!! AND HE'S BRIDGING.....

RP: NO! HE COULDN'T KEEP THE BRIDGE!!

LVK: Both wrestlers' shoulders are down on the mat!!!














ONE!!!!

























TWO!!!!!


























THREEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

RP: Wait? Who was pinned?

[Ray Quinn gets to his feet and then begins to count....with both hands!]

LVK: They were both pinned together! So whichever of the two can't beat the count is
eliminated!



*ONE!!*



*TWO!!*



*THREE!!*



*FOUR!!!*



*FIVE!!!*



*SIX!!!*



*SEVEN!!!*




RP: They're not getting up!

LVK: Wait! Destiny up to one knee!



*EIGHT!!!*



*NINE!!!*



[Destiny tries to get up, but falls back down!]



*TEN!!!*




[SHOCK POP!!!!]

RP: NEITHER OF THEM GOT UP!!

LVK: So that means both Destiny and Morrison are eliminated! We have our final two - they are
Rosco Riggins and Lenny Getz!!

RP: But we need another spin, right?

LVK: Yessiree! One more spin!

[Cut to Lindsey, who smiles, and then suddenly realises she has to spin. She grabs the wheel
with both hands....]


*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*
*clack*

*clack*

*clack*

*clack*


*clack*


*clack*



*clack*



[And the wheel slows to a stop, on.....]


LVK: FIRST BLOOD!! THE FIRST WRESTLER TO BLEED IS GOING TO LOSE THIS MATCH!!

RP: Man, this is exciting!

[Riggins backs Getz into a corner, and starts to fire off more stinging knife-edge chops....]



*SMACK!*



[Crowd: WHOOO!]



*SMACK!*



[Crowd: WHOOO!]



*SMACK!*



[Crowd: WHOOO!]



*SMACK!*



[Crowd: WHOOO!]




*SMACK!*



[Crowd: WHOOO!]



LVK: Lenny Getz is new to RCW, but he's getting a *big* welcoming party from Rosco Riggins!

[With every chop, Getz's body flops against the turnbuckles extravagantly, until Riggins stops
his onslaught. Realising that he can quickly get the match over by making Getz bleed, Rosco 
then changes tact, and starts to pound away at Lenny's head with punches and elbow strikes!]

RP: HOLY COW!! Riggins is potatoing the crap out of Getz!

LVK: No doubt trying to open up some kind of cut on his head!

[Having unleashed a hellish flurry of blows, Riggins then steps back, and the dazed Getz takes 
one step forward....and falls flat on his face! POP!!]

LVK: Lenny Getz can't even stand!

RP: He doesn't need to! As long as he isn't bleeding, he's still in the match!

[Riggins drags Getz back up, and sends him down to the mat again with a snap suplex. He then 
slides from the ring, and grabs a chair, before sliding back in with it.]

LVK: It looks like Riggins has a plan.

[Rosco folds up the chair and places is sideways between the top and middle turnbuckles in one
corner. Then he returns to Getz, grabbing him by the hair. He begins to drag him to his feet,
but as Getz gets to a vertical base, he strikes out with a rake of the eyes! HEEL POP! Getz,
though groggy, quickly follows up by grabbing Riggins' head....]



*THUUDDDD!!!*



RP: SWINGING NECKBREAKER!!

LVK: Getz now making the cover....but of course Ray Quinn now letting him know that there are
*no* pinfalls!

[Getz argues with the referee for a moment, and then slides from the ring. For a moment he 
simply doubles over with exhaustion, holding onto the ring railing for support, but then he
straightens, and sees a fan waving a white Rosco Riggins t-shirt. To the shock of the fan, 
Getz grabs the t-shirt and rips it out of his hands!]

LVK: Hey! That's uncalled for! That fan paid money for that souvenir!

RP: No he didn't. He must have printed it himself - why would RCW make Rosco Riggins t-shirts?

[Getz rolls back into the ring with the t-shirt, and gives Riggins a sharp stomp in the ribs
as he starts to get up. With a grin on his face, Getz then takes the t-shirt and loops it over
Riggins' head from behind, drawing it across his throat, and pulling back hard! PROTEST POP!]

LVK: HE'S CHOKING RIGGINS WITH THE T-SHIRT!!

RP: Getting choked with a piece of your own merchandise! How ironic!

[Ray Quinn tries to stop Getz, but to no avail. He chokes away happily, before stopping and 
letting Riggins flop facefirst to the mat.]

LVK: Again, that's not going to help Getz, because he has to make Riggins bleed!

[Throwing the t-shirt aside, Getz drags Riggins up again, and looks across the ring at the
chair set up in the corner. He takes Riggins by the arm, and whips him. Riggins tries to 
reverse it, but Getz fights against it - the end result being Riggins getting whipped in the
opposite direction.....right into Ray Quinn! SHOCK POP!!]

LVK: OH! Down goes the referee!

[Riggins stays up though, and Getz swings a punch at him. Riggins ducks, and finishes what 
he started, whipping Lenny across the ring towards the far corner. Getz runs but stumbles as
he nears the corner, his head dropping down....]







*CLAAAANNNNNNKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!*







[HUGE FACE POP!!!!!]







RP: HOLY SHIZNIT!!! HE WENT HEADFIRST INTO THE STEEL CHAIR!!!

LVK: Getz went down hard!

[Riggins stalks over to the corner, and drags Getz up. Getz stumbles in a daze, and then 
turns....FACE POP!!!]

LVK: GETZ IS BLEEDING!!! RIGGINS WINS!!!

RP: But there's no referee! Quinn's still out cold!!

[Riggins realises this, and rushes over to Quinn's prone body, and begins trying to rouse
him. As he does this, Getz starts to come out of his daze, and he reaches into his trunks,
fiddles around for a second, and then produces.....]

RP: BRASS KNUCKLES!!! 

[A HEEL POP goes up, as Riggins stops trying to rouse the referee, and turns back to face 
Getz.....]








*THWUUNNNNKKKKK!!!!*









[PROTEST POP!!!!]











LVK: OHHHHHH!!!!!!!! GETZ WITH THE BRASS KNUCKLES!!!!

RP: RIGGINS IS *OUT*!!

[As the fans continue to show their disapproval, Getz crouches over the downed Riggins, and
begins pounding away on his forehead with the knuckles. After about the sixth blow, Getz 
produces the desired result.]

RP: And now *Riggins* is bleeding too!

LVK: But again, Ray Quinn has been knocked out, so there's no referee to see it!

RP: Where's that crazy Japanese ref who came out before?

LVK: After what Demon Boy Ishrinku did to him, do you think he's going to rush out here again?

[Getz gets up off of Riggins, and puts the knuckles back into his trunks. He then brings a 
hand up to his own forehead. He looks at the hand, seeing blood, and begins to panic! That 
panic begins to intensify as he sees Ray Quinn beginning to come around!]

LVK: The referee is coming 'round - I guess this match will be a draw, or maybe we'll have 
another spin of the wheel until there's a winner?

[The panicked Getz looks around, and his eyes fall upon the discarded Riggins t-shirt. He 
hurries over and grabs it, and furiously begins rubbing at his forehead. This mops up the 
blood, and after a few rubs produce no more blood on the white t-shirt, Getz happily throws
it out of the ring, and rushes over to Quinn.]

RP: GENIUS!!! HE WIPED THE BLOOD OFF HIS OWN HEAD!!!

[Quinn gets to his feet, looks at Getz, then looks at the downed Riggins. He rushes over to
Riggins, takes a closer look at his head, and then calls for the bell!]

*DING DING DING!!!*

[HUGE PROTEST/HEEL POP!!!]

LVK: Don't tell me Lenny Getz's trickery has worked? He bled *first*!

RP: Yeah, but the ref didn't see it! That's absolutely brilliant!

[Getz begins to celebrate. How?]

RP: Whooo! Getz strut baby!

DS: The winner of this match.....


LENNY GEEEEEEEETTTTTZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!!!!


[Getz continues to celebrate, much to the displeasure of the crowd.]

LVK: That was a wild and crazy match, to say the least. But what a way to kick off this 
Tribute to Old School night! 

[We then fade out, to backstage. A close-up of a door bearing the words "RCW Owner: Clint 
Fletcher" to be exact. Then the door swings inwards, and a familiar figure steps into the 
office, bringing a HUGE FACE POP!! It's "Cold Blooded" Chris Courtade. Fletcher quickly 
looks up, eyes full attention. Courtade slowly walks closer to Fletcher, leaning foward...
his voice low, full of hate and anger.]

CC: Hey "boss".

[Courtade leans closer.]

CF: Uh, hey Chris. Something I can help you with?

CC: How I see it boss, you're having a little party tonight...and I've yet to get invited.

[Courtade balls up his fists.]

CC: I got f[BLEEP!]ed last week by Vasquez, and that retarded f[BLEEP!], and you god damn 
well know it. The strap wasn't the issue...but his b[BLEEP!] ass runnin' a scam sure as hell
was.

CF: Party? You mean the War Games match? 

[Courtade glares at Fletcher.]

CC: Yes, the War Games match...why the hell else would I be here. 

[Courtade inches closer, leaning closer to Fletcher.]

CC: I want in the goddamn match. I figure, you're bound to have your little prodigal sons in
that sumbitch. Kauffman's bound to be there...and any time I get to pull the cord from his 
life support...I'll take it. With Kauffman, means that the only friend I've got in this 
business will be there as well...and someone's gotta have his back.

[Courtade slowly backs off, as Fletcher begins to lean back.]

CC: And if you're smart, you'll add those two f[BLEEP!]s as well...because inside that steel
cage...

Hell hath no fury like the devil when he's surrounded by fire and pain.

CF: Well, to be honest with ya Chris, I don't even know who's gonna be in the match. You're
the first one to ask about it. But if you want in....well, you got it.

CC: That's all I ask....first in...

[Right then Dan Kauffman charges into the room ... expecting to see Fletch only, he stops cold
at the sight of Courtade.]

CC: The f[BLEEP!] do you want old man? I really don't feel like re-hashin' memories of your 
"brilliant" victory over a man that just wrestled at Glory. So, unless you're here for a 
reason ... there's the door ...

[Kauffman looks back at the door, in jest, then looks back at Courtade ...]

DK: I'm here for a reason ...

[... before turning his attention to Fletch.]

DK: I want to be in War Games. Reason enough?

[Courtade inches eye to eye with Kauffman.]

CC: How I see it, your wishes aren't my god damn concern. I've got a lil' leech, nippin' at 
my heels, wanting to make a name for himself. Last time I checked, you wormed your way into 
f[BLEEP!]in' the only friend I have in this business right in the ass at Glory.

[Courtade's chin begins to quiver with anger.]

CC: You took his pride, you took his title, and now I can't even talk to him, without 
wonderin' if he'll snap on me, the only man that he'd bleed for. So, you're f[BLEEP!]in' 
problems, aren't mine, _bitch_, do you understand?

DK: Understand? Let's start from the beginning ... I took his pride. Wrong. Everyone in this
business still knows Devon Case is a shining star who _still_ hasn't reached his potential.
The only person who actually feels I took Devon's pride is Devon himself. I took his title?
I don't see that title on _my_ waist. I don't see that title on _anyone's_ waist. So Devon
Case just happens to be your friend. That's not _my_ concern. _My_ concern is being the _best_
in RCW, and _my_ concern is being in War Games. Now do _you_ understand?

[Courtade blinks slowly, before re-opening his eyes.]

CC: You're so f[BLEEP!]in' wrapped around getting the respect you've never earned. How I see
it Kauffman, you've always been one step away from being _me_. The same one step you were away
from being _my_ best friend. So, bitch, how I figure, you went in, took his pride, and now 
think
you've got the balls to get in my face. 

[Courtade inches closer.]

CC: I didn't think you wanted to dance with the devil Kauffman, so don't start to hear the 
music in your head just yet. You want in War Games? Do you have any idea what that entails? 
Do you think that War Games is some place to handle a vendetta? You think that enclosed cage
is the place to make yourself some respect?

[Courtade balls up his fists.]

CC: War Games is the closest thing to hell on earth ... and I'm the devil that plans to make
it his home.

[Now Fletch steps in between ...]

CF: Guys, guys! ... Now Chris, if you want to make War Games your home, that's fine by me, as
long as it's on my team. And Dan ... you want in War Games? I'll be glad to have your help as
well. But guys ... at least _try_ to get along. Huh?

DK: Don't look at me, boss. Chris will decide whether or not we can get along.

[Kauffman smirks.]

DK: So, Chris ... can we?

[Courtade doesn't make a move in any direction, eyes locked at Kauffman still.]

CC: Get along ... if I were you Dan, I'd concern yourself with taking every last breath of 
your life in peace...because if you get in my way ... in that f[BLEEP!]in' cage?

[Courtade closes his eyes slowly.]

CC: I'll do what no one else could ... I'll stick the dagger in your heart, and finally bury
your miserable ass.

[With that, as Fletcher attempts to seperate the two, Courtade swipes his hand down, and heads
out of the locker room. Kauffman turns to look at Fletch ...]

DK: If I ever start believing the whole world is against me, like _he_ does, will you slap me
back into reality?

[Kauffman shakes his head, and he, too, walks out.]

[Fade back to the ring.]


*It is better to die on your feet... than to live on your knees...*


[The voice of Elquesa Hervez, the mantra of the Zapatistas. 'Cosmonaut' comes to life,
screaming over the PA with the classic freight-train momentum of At The Drive-In. The lights
are turned up to an unbearable brightness that's almost like water to squint and see through.]

# we sample from the shelves
# tore a page out from this chapter
# deface the essays in the book that you're reading
# we are the leaches that stop the bleding
# deficit attention program
# by any means necessary
# blare sirens to the library
# whisper instructions to the book-worm glossary

# is it heavier than air- tell us, is the black box lying?

[Picked out by a single spotlight, Vespasian Reed half-stumbles out of the entrance portal.
He's dressed in faded blue jeans, with a dark blue t-shirt with a pen-and-ink front-plan
drawing of an F-16 fighter jet on the chest. His title belt dangles loosely from his grip. With
no use for pomp or showmanship, despite the huge pop that greets him, he scratches the back of
his wild, black mess of hair modestly, tugs at his earlobe, and continues right on down the 
cramped "walkway"...]

[Following Reed is his partner - Elquesa Hervez. Hervez is decked out in with a pair of black
slacks and black shoes, complete with red t-shirt bearing the phrase 'ALWAYS OUTNUMBERED -
NEVER OUTGUNNED' on the front. Over the top of the t-shirt, Hever wears his three-quarter-
length leather jacket.  Hervez's long dreadlocked hair is tied back into a ponytail, while a
few loose 'locks streams down his face in black, vine-like, tendrils. Over his shoulder is
slung the tag team title belt, sparking under the fierce arena lights.]

[Approaching the ring cautiously, Reed rolls in under the ropes and gets up to his feet. Hervez
pulls himself onto the apron and steps between the ropes.]

# aeronautics hacked
# the spine of paragraphs
# prepare to indent, a coma that read-
# floating in a soundproof costume
# here comes the monolith
# brass knuckles for the hissie fit
# an abbreviation for the landing of fleets
# incoming

# is it heavier than air- tell us, is the black box lying?

[The music dies, the lights return to normal. The two men pace around the ring, Reed pausing in
the far corner to look out over the crowd and try to take it all in. David Stokes hands him the
mic, and he wanders almost aimlessly into the center of the ring, side by side with his
partner. Reed clears his throat.]

VR: Y'know, uh...

[The crowd pops big for the sound of his voice. He still can't figure it out.]

VR: ... tonight, we, uh.. pay tribute to the, uh... the *fathers* of this sport.

[OLD-SCHOOL POP!!]

VR: Next month... I'm gonna be nineteen years old. It's... it's a humbling thought, knowing
that before I was even born, years-- *decades* before - there were guys giving their heart and
soul to this industry. Guys making all this--

[He gestures around the arena loosely.]

VR: -- making it all, uh... making it all possible. It wasn't long ago I decided I wanted to
make myself part of this legacy. It's still weird to think, when I come through the airport or,
uh... when I arrive at the arena, open my bag...

[Holding up his World Tag Team Title belt, Reed looks at his own reflection.]

VR: ... and I see this. See the words... 'World Tag Team Champion'.

It's weird to think that I *am* part of it, now.

[He goes silent.]

VR: The guys like I watched on TV as a kid... the guys that were kinda like Gods to me... and
still are. It's weird to think that I'm part of the legacy now - no matter how tiny it is - the
legacy that these guys helped to create. It's just..

[A loss for words.]

VR: .. *sigh*.

[Rubbing his free hand over the back of head, and hands the mic to Hervez.]

EH: Last week...

[The crowd pop for Hervez and, like Reed, he is a little taken aback by it.]

EH: Last week... we retained these.

[Hervez motions toward his RCW World Tag Team Title belt as the crowd pop.]

EH: Last week, Reed and I competed againt two _sportsmen_. Men interested in the competition
between men. Men who wrestled us... not because they hated us.... and not because they wanted
our belts...

But men who wrestled us for _sport_.

[Hervez scratches his rough chin.]

EH: Luckily, we won our titles... but, to be honest, I don't care. I just enjoyed actually...
_wrestling_ last week.

[Pause.]

EH: Sadly, the evening was spoiled for me... for _us_ by the actions of two men...

The American Idols.

[Heel pop.]

EH: They came out and they attacked Team Canada for nothing but personal gain... for nothing
except the possibility of acension in the ranks of RCW's tag team division.

Did they acheive their aims?

[Hervez looks down, collecting his thoughts.]

EH: Yes.

Yes thay have... because now, cliche or not, they have the Tag Team Champions looking at them
now.

I don't want to sound arrogant... or egotistical. And I _certainly_ don't to dabble in cliches,
but if The American Idols wanted the limelight in RCW... they've got it...

Because any time now, they are about to share it with Culture Jam...

Because, any time now, they are about to share it with the RCW _World_ Tag Team Champions.

[POP!!]

[But just as suddenly, the pop turns to a MASSIVE chorus of boos!]

RP: You know, I kinda agree with these people...

LVK: I don't think they're booing Culture Jam, Rick. Take a look at your monitor.

RP: What?...

[Sure enough, instead of the American Idols, the PRIME TIME PLAYERS are strolling down the 
aisle. No music. No pyro. Just a slow, lazy walk to the ringside area at their own pace. 
There's something else different about them, too -- their dress. Rick Sly is wearing a pair 
of black tights with a small "RS" on the back, and black kneepads and boots. The Monster is 
wearing his usual khaki slacks, of course -- but no mask, and also sporting a black, one-strap
tanktop, the classic symbol of big men in the sport. Finally, Vanessa brings up the front. 
She's still dressed in her three-piece suit -- that much hasn't changed. Except tonight... 
instead of a kendo stick, she carries... a tennis racket? Yup, sure enough, it's a 
honest-to-goodness tennis racket, still zipped in a cover that matches her suit.]

[The trio finally makes it to ringside, climbing in one by one -- Sly and Vanessa through the
middle ropes, the Monster over the top rope. Hervez and Reed shoot them distrustworthy looks,
and rightfully so.]

[Sly takes the mic first, fighting through the chorus of jeers aimed at the ex-champs. He 
clears his throat and begins in a... familiar tone. The Monster just crosses his arms over 
his massive chest and looms in the background, large.]

[Rick Sly]
You know... [pauses] I've been wrestling in this business for forty GLORIOUS months...

[Pop of recognition at who he's emulating. It's uncanny. He even makes the same grandiose hand
gestures.]

[Rick Sly]
...And I've seen a lot of things in my time in the ring. I've seen people COME, and I've seen
them GO. But without a doubt, you two have to be THE worst champions I've ever seen.

[Heel pop!]

[Rick Sly]
I mean, how do the Culture Jams of the world stack up? You look at the great tagteams of the
past... men like the Down Boys...

[BIG POP at the namedropping. Those are two names EVERYBDOY knows.]

[Rick Sly]
...the Epitome of Cool...

[Mixed reaction for that particularly nasty team.]

[Rick Sly]
...the Outlaws...

[BIG time cheer.]

[Rick Sly]
...the Nine Inch Males...

[Another big pop!]

[Rick Sly]
...men who were the REAL pioneers in this sport. The LAST of the real men, who could look you
in the eye and give you their all in a match, and WIN. Men who proved night after night, fair
and square, that they WERE the better team. Paragons of VIRTUE in the sport of professional 
wrestling.

[The fans' reactions turn to boos quickly. Sly's facts are, as always, a little distorted, 
given the list he just rattled off. Vanessa emphasizes with a shake of her tennis racket and 
some jeers.]

[Rick Sly]
And I look over across the ring at Culture Jam, and I see a couple of young PUNKS.

[More boos!]

[Rick Sly]
A couple of youngers that had their GRAND day in the sun against two veterans, and then 
REFUSED to face them in a rematch, like the cowards they are. Y'see, you two... once you've 
had the gold, it's a HUNGER that stays with you. And I'm making an open challenge, right here
and right now -- a verbal contract -- that says we not only DEMAND, but thanks to Vanessa's
mediating skills, have *GOTTEN* a match tonight for those belts.

[The crowd buzzes excitedly. Vanessa looks gleefully proud.]

[Rick Sly]
And JUST so you two don't have any excuses when you lose -- and you WILL lose -- we'll grant
you any one -- no, just because we're THAT good, any TWO -- stipulations to the match you 
want. But make it good... because once that bell rings, I will take you down on the mat, 
where EVERYONE is the same size, and [points extravagantly, with a windup] STRETCH you until 
you say uncle. And then, at the behest of the mechanized sheep at ringside... you will BE... 
JUST... another NOTCH in my belt.

[Hervez looks over the Prime Time Players, and then brings his mic up his lips.]

EH: After 'Glory'... I thought it was over between us. I thought the four... _five_ of us had
gained some sort of mutual respect for each other. You had your day, and we had ours.

[Hervez looks deep into the eyes of Rick Sly.]

EH: It seems I was wrong.

[Pause.]

EH: Instead, you want a rematch... you want another chance to devalue and disrespect one of the
foundations upon which RCW is built. I make no great claims for either of us... but at least we
are _trying_ to turn the belts into something respectable... something the people watching
can... _look up to_.

[Hervez, trying to calm himself, pulls his leather jacket off and flings it to the outside in a
fit of rage and looks over at his partner, who solemly nods. Hervez rubs his face and regains
some composure before looking back over at the Prime Time Players.]

EH: Tonight, we'll offer you your _final_ chance against Reed and myself... If you lose, then
that is it... no more chances to earn respect for or from each other - at least until after
Caged Rage 2.

We see this thing as over... Hopefully, after this, you will too.

[POP!!]

[Hervez turns away from the Prime Time Players to confer with Reed but, suddenly and without
warning, he swings back to face them.]

EH: One more thing...

[Hervez looks straight at Vanessa.]

EH: Seeing as tonight is a tribute to the 'founding fathers' of this great... _sport_, we are
going to make our own tribute to a great tag team of this sport.... 

We want to take your advantage away from you... making this match an _even_ competition between
four men... As opposed to a match between four men... and a _woman_.

[POP!!]

EH: For this match... we want Vanessa tied up in a straitjacket - so she cannot interfere. We
lost to you once before because of your dishonesty... and I can see it happening tonight.

[Vanessa takes Sly's microphone and looks livid, waving her tennis racket madly.]

[Vanessa]
That's the SINGLE most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! I'm not doing that!

[Hervez looks at Vanessa, mic is hand.]

EH: Then there will be no match.

[The Prime Time Players look taken aback, huddling to discuss with their manager. Finally, they
break. Vanessa has the mic again, speaking frantically to try to keep Culture Jam from walking
out.]

[Vanessa]
OKAY!... Okay, I'll agree to it. But ONLY [points with her racket] because I don't want
to have to listen to you two babies WHINE and CRY [makes a crying motion with her free
hand] when you lose the match to [hikes her thumb at herself] MY Prime Time Players. In
fact... you're lucky I don't phone up my mom right NOW and get the money I'd need to
destroy the both of you! 'CAUSE I COULD DO IT!

[Pretty good sized humor pop for Vanessa at the recognition of the catchphrase.]

[Vanessa]
But no... we're gonna do it in the ring tonight, the right way. Because that's what the
Prime Time Players are all about -- winning matches the RIGHT way, fair and square.

[Healthy boos. Sly and the Monster, oblivious, nod to each other in agreement of Vanessa.]

[Vanessa]
So I'll put your STUPID little straitjacket on. But when we beat you -- one, two, three -- in
front of everyone in this arena, I don't want to hear any more complaining out of you two.

[Reed turns to Hervez, takes the microphone.]

VR: You won't. You won't hear a thing. 

[Vanessa looks a little puzzled by that last remark - but Reed's expression gives nothing away.
Their gazes locked with the eyes of Sly and The Monster, the World Tag-Team Champions step 
right through the three, dropping out of the ring and head back up the aisle. Cut.] 

[Open to one of those big backstage rooms, where groups of wrestlers seem to like to hang out.
This one has a couple of black leather couches, which are currently occupied by the sprawling,
relaxed figures of Tommy Stephens, Rembrandt and Juan Vasquez. Goku Waru sits off to one side,
with the Mysterious Suited Guy standing rigidly on guard next to him, while Anna and Edwin 
Lopez seem to be chatting in a far corner. Walking amongst this rabble of heeldom paces the 
Queen Bitch herself, Miss Cherry.]

MC: Alright, everything seems to be going to plan so far tonight.
Rembrandt....

[Rembrandt looks up nonchalantly as Miss Cherry keeps pacing back and forth,
lost in her own scheming thoughts.]

MC: ...you have the match with Chris Courtade.

[She stops and looks directly at her half-Japanese charge.]

MC: Now, you realize how much it'll mean to our plans if you can beat that
Texas southern trash tonight, don't you?

R: If I can beat him?

[He shakes his head.]

R: I assume you meant to say, "You realize how much trouble Fletcher'll be
in after you beat Courtade from one side of the arena to the other, breaking
both of his knees in the process".

[Nod.]

R: There's no doubt about this one, madame. Chris Courtade, for being such
a big Texan hardass, will be reduced to a simpering, whining little boy.

MC: Good, good. But Juan, you know what we've already talked about. We're
not
taking any chances, right?

[He smirks.]

JV: I gots it all covered, Cherry...you ain't got *nothin'* to worry 'bout.

[He turns to Rembrandt and does a goofy sort of grin.]

JV: Ain't that right, foo'?

[Rembrandt just stares at him in a, "Did you just call me a fool?" sort of
way. Juan's smile disappears as Rembrandt just glares at him. Juan, not
wanting to risk getting kicked in the head or something, just nods and moves
his attention elsewhere.]

JV: ...Right.

At any rate, me and chuckles here's got everything under control.

[Cherry goes back to pacing, looking a bit worried.]

MC: Tommy, I want to stay nice and fresh for the War Games match. That
damned
Fletcher is busy at work putting his team together....so far he's only got
Courtade and Kauffman....we've got you three, so we're looking good at this
stage. But boys, we can't afford to get complacent!

[Disinterested nods from the boys. Complacent? Yup.]

JV: ...

[Of course, Juan doesn't _KNOW_ what complacent means. Needless to say, he's
looking more confused than the rest.]

MC: We've got about an hour until the War Games match, and so far we only
have three team members. We *need* five.

[She stops pacing and addresses her...um...troops.]

MC: Alright boys, time to do some recruiting.

[None of the three move. Juan blinks.]

JV: You mean...actively go out and actually interact with people?

[Cherry nods.]

JV: Me?

MC: *All* of you.

[Awkward silence.]

JV: But...when you say "All of you." that includes me, right?

[Cherry sighs.]

MC: Yes, Juan. _YOU._

JV: And Tommy?

[Stephens looks kinda astonished that Juan acknowledged his existence. Soup
can pride!]

MC: Uh huh. Tommy too.

JV: And uhhh...you know.

[Juan sort of nudges his head towards Rembrandt's general direction. Cherry's
getting kind of annoyed.]

MC: Did you hear me!? Let's get out there and find us some ring-ins for the
night! It shouldn't be too hard to find people who hate Fletch as much as we
do.

[She smiles, and slowly Stephens, Rembrandt and Vasquez get up and begin to
leave. The camera zooms in on Cherry's confident smile.]

[Fade back to ringside.]

LVK: Things seem to be heating up backstage, with both Fletcher and Cherry strategising for
tonight's main event. Right now it's time for our next match. Just moments ago you saw a 
confrontation between World tagteam champions Culture Jam and the Prime Time Players. And it
was agreed that if the champions retain tonight, then the Players cannot challenge again until
after the Caged Rage 2 pay-per-view. But to make things interesting, Vanessa will be locked 
tightly inside of a straitjacket, so that she can't interfere!

RP: How humiliating, putting a beautiful woman inside of something like that.


*It is better to die on your feet... than to live on your knees...*

[Wearing the same as they were moments ago, and still clutching their World title belts 
proudly, Elquesa Hervez and Vespasian Reed emerge from the fan-crowded aisleway, two Police
officers leading the way.]

DS: AT A COMBINED WEIGHT OF 465 POUNDS!!...

... VESPASIAN REED! ELQUESA HERVEZ! ...

... CULTUUUUUUUUUUUURE!! JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!

[Approaching the ring cautiously, Reed rolls in under the bottom rope and gets up to his feet.
Hervez pulls himself onto the apron, steps between the ropes and travels across the ring to
his team's corner. In a tribute to his family and religion, he bows is head and crosses his
chest in the traditional Catholic way.]

# aeronautics hacked
# the spine of paragraphs
# prepare to indent, a coma that read-
# floating in a soundproof costume
# here comes the monolith
# brass knuckles for the hissie fit
# an abbreviation for the landing of fleets
# incoming

[Reed stands against the turnbuckle, conferring quietly with Hervez as the lights fade back 
to normal 'Cosmonaut' dies a slow, indifferent death. The referee hands the eighteen-year-old 
the straitjacket, and he walks out into the center of the ring, holding it. David Stokes passes
him the microphone.]

VR: Let's see if we can't, uh... evoke some... some old memories, here, huh?

[He holds up the straitjacket, to a pop. Turning, he gives it to his partner.]

VR: 'Ques is gonna tie me up in this thing... show you all how it works.

[A murmur of confusion from the crowd. Reed rubs a hand over his hair.]

VR: [in a low voice] Nothing's safe any more.

[He hands the mic back to the announcer, and slips his arms into the sleeves of the 
straitjacket. Turning, he stands there with his head bowed as Hervez buckles up the back, 
sealing him in. No sooner as he secured the final fastening than...]

LVK: SLY! MONSTER!! THE PRIME TIME PLAYERS!!

[Jumping the ring railing and sliding into the ring, the Prime Time Players quickly pounce 
on Reed and Hervez, taking them by surprise. Hervez puts up a fight against the enormous 
Monster, but Reed can do little to fight off Rick Sly, with his arms restricted by the jacket!]

RP: The kid's all tied up in the straitjacket! He's dead meat!!

[Having knocked Reed to the mat, Sly and the Monster turn their attention to Hervez, 
administering a flurry of kicks and punches, before sending him crashing from the ring. 
With smiles on their faces, and with Vanessa - tennis racket in hand - barking orders from
ringside, the Players drag the straitjacketed Reed to his feet.]

LVK: This doesn't look good for Vespasian Reed at all!

[Reed struggles against his bindings, but to no avail. He is defenseless as the Monster swats
downwards with a clubbing forearm across the middle of his back, and then aims a powerful boot
into his midsection, before wrenching Reed into a standing headscissor....]

RP: This is the craziest thing I've ever seen! A kid tied up in a straitjacket....getting
punished by a seven-foot Monster!

[The crowd lets out a collective gasp of surprise as the Monster hoists Reed up into the air,
before leaving him propped skyward for a few long seconds, and then bringing him crashing 
down.....]








*THUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!*








[HUGE SHOCK POP!!!]







LVK: GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY!!! A MONSTERBOMB!!!!

RP: And with his arms tied up like that, the impact must have been even harder on the body of
Vespasian Reed!!

[Reed rolls over a couple of times after coming down, and rolls under the bottom rope. He 
flops to the floor with a sickening thud, unable to break his own fall in any way.]

LVK: Vespasian Reed has to be in a world of hurt right now!

RP: Wait, here comes Hervez back into the ring.

LVK: And finally referee Teddy Lancaster is calling for the bell!





 __    ___ __      ______________________________________________________________
| _ \ /  _\\ \    / /
| U < | |_  \ \/\/ /               World Tagteam Championship
|_|\_\\___/  \_/\_/
              \                          Culture Jam (c)
  Written by   \                              vs
    Fletch      \                      Prime Time Players
                 \_______________________________________________________________


*DING DING!!!*

[Sly climbs out onto the apron in his team's corner, as The Monster and Hervez lock-up in the
middle of the ring.]

LVK: The two big men starting things off.

RP: It looks like Hervez is gonna have to wrestle on his own! Reed still isn't moving!

LVK: It was meant to be Vanessa wearing the straitjacket, but instead it ended up being 
Vespasian Reed, and he paid the price!

[Monster sends Hervez into the ropes, but Hervez ducks under a clothesline attempt, and 
rebounds again....]



*THUUUDDD!!*



[POP!!]



LVK: OOHHH!!! SPEAR BY ELQUESA HERVEZ KNOCKS THE MONSTER OFF HIS FEET!!!

RP: Wow, I don't think I've ever seen anyone take down the big man that quickly before!!

[Both men roll to their feet, and Hervez begins unloading big right hands, which send The 
Monster staggering backward. After five or six punches, each of which brings a cry of "BOOM!"
from the crowd, The Monster finds himself backed into a corner, and Hervez continues his 
onslaught, climbing up onto the second rope, grabbing the big man by the head with his fist
cocked! FACE POP!!]

LVK: Hervez really taking it to the mammoth Monster!



*THWACK!*



[Crowd: ONE!]



*THWACK!*



[Crowd: TWO!]



*THWACK!*



[Crowd: THREE!]



*THWACK!*



[Crowd: FOUR!]



*THWACK!*



[Crowd: FIVE!]



*THWACK!*



[Crowd: SIX!]



*THUUUDDD!!*



[SHOCK POP!!]



LVK: OHHH!!! The Monster counters the barrage of punches by simply grabbing Elquesa Hervez by
the throat and *throwing* him halfway across the ring to the mat!!

RP: Now *that's* power!

[Hervez immediately rolls to his feet, and charges at The Monster in the corner, but runs 
straight into a giant-sized boot! The Monster takes a couple of steps from the corner, as 
Hervez staggers about in a daze, and grabs the Culture Jam member by the head....]


*THUNK!*


*THUD!!*


RP: Owchie-wa-wa! What a headbutt!

LVK: Hervez is down, and unfortunately for him, his tagteam partner is still down outside of
the ring, tied up in that straitjacket!

[The Monster drags Hervez to his feet, and throws him into his team's corner, before making 
the tag to Rick Sly. The Monster then holds onto the groggy Hervez, lifting his right arm into
the air, as Sly climbs up to the second turnbuckle, and comes flying down with a fist into the
exposed ribs of the Mexican wrestler.]

LVK: Rick Sly now into the match, and it really does look like Elquesa Hervez is going to have
to wrestle this match by himself.

[Making sure to keep Hervez disorientated, Sly grabs him by the head and rakes his eyes across
the top rope, which sends Elquesa staggering away in pain. Sly stalks after him, following up
by ramming his shoulder viciously into the back of the tagteam champion's right knee! HEEL
POP!]

RP: Ah, the good old fashioned knee clip! That brings back memories.

LVK: Of when you were wrestling?

RP: No, of the time my cousin Larry was late paying his gambling debts. Only, Big Louie used
a baseball bat, not his shoulder...

LVK: Why doesn't this surprise me?

RP: Serves him right though. Who the hell bets on the New York Jets?

[With Hervez down on the mat, showing mild discomfort towards his right leg, Sly swoops in 
like a vulture. First he gives the sore knee a couple of healthy stomps, and then grabs the
leg, placing the foot across the second rope, and then jumping up and coming down across the
knee with his....well....butt. This sends Hervez rolling away, groaning in pain.]

RP: This is smart wrestling by Rick Sly. The foolish thing to do would be to try and finish
off Hervez quickly. But the smart thing is to slow things down and do the job properly.

[Again Sly grabs the leg, and twists around into a spinning toehold, once...twice...three 
times. With each move, Hervez begins to grunt and groan with pain a little bit louder. But 
then Sly does something surprising - he stands back, and gestures for Hervez to get up.]

LVK: Rick Sly sure does live up to his name - he's about as trustworthy as a Colombian 
politician.

[Hervez struggles up to a vertical base, limping slightly on his right leg. He grimaces as
he puts weight on the leg, but is suddenly sent crashing back to the mat, as Rick Sly circles
around behind him, and drives his boot into the back of the knee! HEEL POP!!]

RP: Say what you want Van Keel, but he's wrestling *smart* right now.

[Sly jabs a thumb towards his own chest, and then thrusts both arms into the air proudly,
bringing a fresh wave of boos from the crowd. He then grabs both of the downed Hervez's legs,
and begins intertwining them with his own, while dropping back to the mat! SUBMISSION MOVE 
POP!!!]

LVK: FIGURE FOUR LEGLOCK!!!

[The fans continue to scream and cheer as Sly sits back into the king of all submission holds,
while Hervez writhes about on the mat, grunting in pain. Referee Teddy Lancaster kneels close
to Hervez, asking the question, but between his pained groans, Elquesa spits out determined 
"no"s at the official. But Hervez does make the mistake of letting both of his shoulders lie
against the mat.....]

LVK: Count!













ONE!!!






















TWO!!!!
















[Hervez realises what's happening, and sits up, breaking the count. He then starts to growl,
trying to fight off the pain, before sitting up straight, and then beginning to rock from side
to side. POP!!]

LVK: Elquesa Hervez is trying to fight out of the figure four!

[While Teddy Lancaster continues to ask the question, Vanessa reaches into the ring with her
tennis racket, allowing Sly to grab it. She then pulls with all of her might, giving added 
leverage to the submission hold! HEEL POP!! Lancaster looks up, but Vanessa calmly pulls the
racket from the ring before he can see anything. When the referee's attention is turned away
again, she and Sly go back to work.]

RP: Man, I gotta give it to this Vanessa chick - she's running a well-oiled team out here 
tonight!

LVK: They certainly are pulling all of the tricks out of the proverbial bag.

[The boos continue, but they are quickly replaced by a loud surge of cheers, as Hervez again
thrusts up into a sitting position, and then rocks one way, the other, and then with a roar
of effort, throws all of his bodyweight to the side!]

LVK: Hervez trying to reverse the hold now! Can he do it?

[Sly fights not to get turned over. Fights....fights....FACE POP!!!!]

RP: ARGH!

LVK: YES!! HERVEZ REVERSED IT!!!


*THUD!*


[HEEL POP!!!]


LVK: OH! But The Monster comes in and drives a big boot into Hervez's head, cutting short his
comeback!

[Teddy Lancaster leads the Monster from the ring, and Sly and Hervez unravel their legs. They
both get to their feet, Sly limping slightly, Hervez limping noticeably. Sly drags the Culture
Jam member over to the corner...]

LVK: Tag now made to the Monster, and still Vespasian Reed is down at ringside. He took quite
a blow from that Monsterbomb, with his arms tied up in the straitjacket!

[As the tag is made, Sly applies a hammerlock to Hervez, and keeps it locked on while scooping
him up, and slamming him down to the mat. As this is happening, The Monster climbs to the 
second turnbuckle, and then falls forward...slowly.....]





*THUUUUUUDDDDD!!!!*





LVK: A rather sloppy looking falling headbutt there from The Monster.

RP: Hey, sloppy or not, when you have a seven-foot, 330-pound man crashing to the mat, it's
gonna leave a mark!

LVK: Here's the cover now by The Monster!















ONE!!!!
























TWO!!!!!


























THR-NO! Kickout by Hervez!

[FACE POP!]

LVK: WAIT A MINUTE!! VESPASIAN REED IS UP!!!

[Reed, groggy, disorientated and still locked tightly into the straitjacket, is indeed back 
to his feet at ringside. But Larry isn't the only one who's noticed. Suddenly, in the ring, 
Rick Sly climbs in and begins arguing with the referee, making an old-school "he pulled the 
hair" signal. With the official's back to Reed, Vanessa pounces into action....]





*THWAAAAAACCCKKKK!!!!*






[BIG HEEL POP!!!!]






LVK: GOOD GOD!!! VANESSA WITH A VICIOUS SHOT ACROSS VESPASIAN REED'S HEAD WITH THAT TENNIS
RACKET!!!

RP: Reed couldn't do anything to block the shot either! He took the full brunt on the top of
his skull!!

LVK: Reed's back down on the concrete floor...what a traversty this is turning out to be!

[Smiling happily, Vanessa returns to her team's side of the ring, as Sly climbs back out to 
the apron, his distraction work done. Monster, meanwhile, drags Hervez to his feet and backs
him into a corner. A couple of big boots slump Hervez further down into the corner, and then
The Monster simply grabs him by the throat and starts to squeeze! HEEL POP!! Lancaster warns
the big man, then counts, and The Monster breaks the chokehold before he can be disqualified.]

LVK: The Prime Time Players are using every dirty trick in the book!

RP: A book which *I* wrote, of course.

LVK: Funny, I don't remember that book being in elementary school-level language.

RP: Hey! Just because I didn't go to college doesn't mean I'm unedumacated!

[The old school big man beatdown continues, as The Monster drags Hervez to his feet again, 
and clamps on....]

LVK: BEARHUG!

[~!]

RP: I love it! Squeeze the living crap out of him Monster!

[The huge Monster grits his teeth happily as he crushes Hervez in his mammoth arms, the
Culture Jam wrestler at first trying to fight the vice-like grip, but then slowly losing 
fight until he slumps limply.]

LVK: OH BOY!! Hervez could be out! We could be about to crown brand new World tagteam 
champions!

RP: Yes! Yes!

[Teddy Lancaster checks on Hervez, and then grabs his right arm by the wrist. He lifts it....




....flop.





Lifts again....






.....flop.







Lifts a third and final time......









The arm stays straight up in the air! BIG FACE POP!!!!]

LVK: NO! Elquesa Hervez isn't giving up just yet!! 

[With a growl of frustration, The Monster lets Hervez fall to the mat with a thud. He then
tags Sly, and they both take hold of one of Hervez's arms.....]

LVK: Double whip into the ropes...

[Both Prime Time Players bend down into a backdrop, but they telegraph it, and Hervez clubs
Rick Sly with a forearm to the back of the head. The Monster straightens in surprise, only
to find Hervez rushing at him.....]





*THUUUUDDD!!!*






[BIG-ASS FACE POP!!!]






LVK: OH MY GOD!!! HERVEZ WITH A THUNDERING LARIAT, AND DOWN GOES THE BIG MAN!!! ELQUESA HERVEZ
IS MOUNTING A HUGE COMEBACK!!


[HEEL POP!!]


RP: Heh, not anymore!

LVK: A nasty low blow by Rick Sly, and somehow Teddy Lancaster missed it!

RP: Gotta love blind referees!

LVK: Teddy's not blind. He just doesn't have enough eyes to watch all of the cheap tricks
employed by the Prime Time Players!

[Grabbing Hervez as he stumbles to his feet, Sly quickly clamps on a rear chinlock,
transitioning it into a....]

RP: SLEEPERHOLD!

LVK: We saw Hervez come back by quickening the pace of this match, but now Rick Sly is
slowing things down again, dictating the pace of the match to where he wants it to be!

RP: Hervez is going out! This could be it!

[Hervez tries to fight the hold, but finds no way to escape. Then his arms start flailing
slower and slower, until he slumps limply in Rick Sly's grasp. Teddy Lancaster checks on
him, and then lifts the arm....




....and it falls.






Lifts again....





....and it falls again.





Lifts a third and final time....





BIG FACE POP!!!]

LVK: Yet again Elquesa Hervez is showing us that he doesn't know the meaning of the word
surrender!

RP: That's 'cause he's Mexican. He doesn't know a lot of English words.

LVK: Cut it out. 

[The face pop continues as Hervez twists in the sleeperhold, and then starts ramming his 
inside elbow into Rick Sly's midsection. Once....twice....three times, and Sly lets go!]

LVK: Hervez is free....and....OH MY GOD!!! VESPASIAN REED IS CLIMBING UP ONTO THE APRON!!! 
AND HE'S OUT OF THE STRAITJACKET!!!

RP: Wha..? When did that happen?

LVK: I'm not sure. Our attention was taken up by Elquesa Hervez's epic struggle, but while 
that was going on, I guess Reed was freeing himself from the jacket!

[The fans, seeing Reed assume his place in his team's corner, pop bigtime, urging Hervez to 
make it over and tag out. Hervez sends Sly into the ropes....]

LVK: OHHH!!! BIG LARIAT BY HERVEZ, AND BOTH MEN ARE DOWN!!!

[Hervez struggles to his hands and knees, looking around in a disorientated daze. He begins 
crawling, his arm stretched out, but towards the wrong corner!]

RP: Ah-HAHA! Hervez doesn't know where he is! He's going towards an empty corner!

[Meanwhile, Sly slowly climbs to his feet, and suddenly Vanessa joins the mix, jumping up 
onto the apron, tennis racket in hand! Teddy Lancaster sees her right away, and approaches
her, telling her to get down. And Hervez - well, he finally figures out what he's doing 
wrong, and makes a despairing dive.....]






*SLAP!*





[HUGE FACE POP!!!]



 


LVK: TAG MADE!!! HERVEZ TAGS OUT TO REED!!!!

[But suddenly Teddy Lancaster turns around, as Reed is about to unload on Rick Sly, and grabs
Reed, pushing him back towards the corner. CONFUSION POP!!]

LVK: What's the referee doing?

RP: He's saying there was no tag! He didn't see it!

LVK: The Prime Time Players' distraction tactics have worked in their favor yet again!

[Reed reluctantly goes back out onto the apron, as Sly stuns Hervez with a kneelift, sending
him toppling back to the mat. He then holds both arms in the air, and slaps his hands together,
and The Monster comes rumbling into the ring. HEEL POP!]

LVK: There was no tag there!

[Lancaster turns back around, questions Sly, and then lets it continue, having heard an 
audible slap. Sly and The Monster grab Hervez and whip him into the ropes, before sending 
him flying through the air with a double backdrop....]



*THUUUDDD!!*



LVK: This is tragic for Culture Jam - they clearly made the tag, but now they're stuck with
Elquesa Hervez as the legal man, and he's taken a world of punishment!

[Rick Sly looks to follow up on Hervez, but then suddenly deviates, rushing over and slugging
Vespasian Reed right in the face! Reed immediately reacts, starting to climb through the 
ropes, but again finds Teddy Lancaster in his path. With the ref distracted, Vanessa throws
her tennis racket into the ring, where Sly catches it.....]







*THWAAAAAAAPPPPPPP!!!!!!!*







[HUGE HEEL POP!!!!]







LVK: OH NO!!! THE TENNIS RACKET RIGHT OVER THE HEAD OF ELQUESA HERVEZ!!!

RP: He went down like a sack of bricks!

LVK: And now Rick Sly is making the cover!!





















ONE!!!!



























TWO!!!!!


























THRE-


[FACE POP!!!]


LVK: Kickout by Hervez! My word what resilience this young man is showing here tonight!

[Sly and The Monster drag a groggy Hervez to his feet, and Sly smiles as he slaps away at the
Culture Jam member's face, with slaps which are more insulting than painful. It has its 
desired effect though, as an angry Vespasian Reed again tries to climb into the ring....]

RP: Rookie mistake by Reed! He's playing right into the Players' hands!

LVK: Well, he is a rookie....but, OH! Here comes the tennis racket again!!

[Sly grabs the racket and winds up, as The Monster holds Hervez up.....]







*THWAAAAAPPPPPP!!!!!*









[HUGE FACE POP!!!!!]







LVK: OHHHH!!!!! HERVEZ MOVED!!! SLY ACCIDENTLY HIT HIS OWN TAGTEAM PARTNER!!!

RP: DAMN!!

[As The Monster staggers back into the ropes, momentarily stunned, and Sly stands wide-eyed,
in shock, Hervez makes a desperate dive for his team's corner.....]




*SLAP!*



[BIG-TIME FACE POP!!!!!]



LVK: YES!!! FINALLY VESPASIAN REED HAS BEEN TAGGED IN!!!

[The Monster is the first to run at Reed, but he is met with a flurry of stinging right hands
to the head! But The Monster reverses a whip into the ropes, only to get nailed by a running 
Yakuza kick from Reed, which sends the big man crashing through the ropes to the floor! POP!!
Sly tries to catch Reed offguard, swinging a roundhouse punch, but it misses its mark. Reed 
easily ducks it, grabs Sly, and hoists him skyward with a belly-to-back lift. In mid-air, he
swings Sly's body out, and then drops down....]






*THUUUUDDDDD!!!!!*






[HIGHSPOT/FACE POP!!!!]







LVK: BLUE THUNDER POWERBOMB!!! THAT COULD DO IT!!!




















ONE!!!!
























TWO!!!!!


























THREEEEEEEEEEEEE-




[?]




RP: NO!! SLY KICKED OUT!!!!

[BIG DISAPPOINTMENT POP!!]

LVK: No pin there, but the main thing is that Vespasian Reed, after spending much of this
match in a straitjacket, is finally free and kicking ass!

[Reed picks Sly up, and gets ready to dish out more punishment, but suddenly finds a slender,
female hand holding onto his ankle under the bottom rope. He lets go of Sly, and turns, 
reaching for Vanessa, but finding her just out of his reach. After dispatching a few choice
words, he turns back, and ducks under a desperate roundhouse punch from Sly. But as he lifts
his head again....]




*THUUUUUUDDDDDD!!!!!*




[SHOCK POP!!!]





LVK: GOOD GOD!!! THE SEVEN-FOOT, 330-POUND MONSTER JUST NAILED VESPASIAN REED WITH A 
DROPKICK!!! A DROPKICK!!!

RP: Awesome!

[As Reed goes rolling away, in a lot of pain, Hervez runs back into the mix, but is met by
a big headbutt from The Monster. Sly and The Monster grab Hervez in a double front chancery,
turn, and then lift.....]



*THUUUUDDDD!!!*



LVK: DOUBLE FRONT SUPLEX BY THE PRIME TIME PLAYERS!!!

RP: They aren't done though! 

[The Monster pulls Hervez to his feet, and moves closer to a corner, where he drops down to 
one knee, and pushes the Culture Jam member backfirst across the outstretched knee. While this
is happening, Sly climbs to the second turnbuckle, waits for a moment, and then jumps, bringing
an elbow crashing down across the outstretched chest of Hervez! HIGHSPOT POP!!!]

RP: WHAT A MOVE!!!

LVK: Yes indeed, what an impressive double-team maneuver, and it could be enough to crown new
World tagteam champions!! HERE'S THE COVER BY RICK SLY!!!

















ONE!!!!!

























TWO!!!!!!

























THREEEEE-




[HUGE FACE POP!!!!]

LVK: NO! Kickout by Hervez! AND HERE COMES VESPASIAN REED!!!

[Reed catches Sly with an enzuigiri kick, sending the PTPer tumbling to the mat and out of 
the ring. The Monster swings at him and misses, as Hervez rolls to his feet as well. Hervez 
catches The Monster with a clubbing forearm from behind, and whips him into the ropes....]






*THUUUDDDDD!!!!!*







LVK: Drop toehold from Hervez!







*THUUUDDDDD!!!!!*






LVK: AND A FLYING ELBOWSMASH FROM VESPASIAN REED!!! CULTURE JAM ARE SHOWING THEY CAN PULL OUT
THE BIG DOUBLETEAM MOVES TOO!!!










ONE!!!!!
























TWO!!!!!!!


























THR-NO! The big man kicks out!!

[Reed and Hervez drag The Monster up, and Hervez immediately applies a bearhug! POP! Then 
Reed goes running into the ropes....]






*THUUUUUDDDDDD!!!!*





LVK: OOOOHHHHH!!!! REED WITH A BULLDOG LARIAT AS HERVEZ HELD THE MONSTER IN POSITION WITH A
BEARHUG!!! WHAT A TAGTEAM MANEUVER THAT WAS!!!

RP: It was good, but don't get carried away. There's no need to have a heart attack over it.

LVK: Here's the cover now by Vespasian Reed!!

















ONE!!!!!

























TWO!!!!!!


























THRE-NO! SAVE MADE BY RICK SLY!!!

[HEEL POP!! Hervez runs at Sly, but Sly simply sidesteps and gives the Culture Jam member a
helping hand up and over the top rope to the floor. He then drags Reed to his feet, and 
clamps him in a standing headscissor, as The Monster gets up. Then Sly lifts Reed into a 
piledriver position, and his partner grabs the feet....]









*THUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!*













[DEAFENING PROTEST POP!!!!!]













LVK: OH MY GOOD GOD!!! A SPIKED PILEDRIVER!!!! WHAT A VILE, VICIOUS MOVE!!!

RP: That's gonna bust a few braincells!

LVK: COVER BY SLY!!!












ONE!!!!

























TWO!!!!!!

























THREEEEEE-




[?]




LVK: NO!! NO!!! KICKOUT BY VESPASIAN REED!!!!

[BIG FACE POP!!!]

RP: Damn, that was close!

[As Sly gets to his feet and starts arguing with Teddy Lancaster about the count, Elquesa
Hervez suddenly comes back into the fray. He catches The Monster with a big knee to the back,
sending the big man crashing through the ropes to the floor. Sly swings at him, but misses, 
and gets dropped by a Hervez lariat for his trouble! FACE POP!! Hervez drags Sly back up, as
Reed starts climbing the turnbuckles, and lifts Sly into a vertical suplex. Reed takes 
position on the top rope, and leaps, catching the upside-down Sly with a bodypress, at which
point Hervez falls back into the suplex....]








*THUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!*








LVK: OH MY GOD!!! YET ANOTHER AMAZING DOUBLE-TEAM MOVE!!!

RP: I hate to say it, but that move *did* rock!

LVK: HERE'S THE COUNT!!!





















ONE!!!!!!

























TWO!!!!!!!

























THR-NO!! THE MONSTER PULLED REED OUT OF THE RING TO BREAK THE COVER!!!

[The Monster easily tosses Reed into the ring railing, and Reed bounces to the floor. The 
Monster climbs into the ring, where Sly and Hervez are going at it, and turns the tables the
way of the PTP with a big clubbing axehandle onto the back of Hervez's head. With ease, he 
scoops Hervez up and slams him down to the mat, as Sly climbs the turnbuckles to the top. Then
The Monster grabs Sly, lifts him off of the turnbuckle and throws him down onto Hervez with a
big slash!]






*THUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!*






LVK: WOW!!! THE MONSTER LAUNCHED HIS TAGTEAM PARTNER OFF OF THE TOP ROPE, AND SENT HIM 
ROCKETING DOWN ONTO ELQUESA HERVEZ WITH A HUGE SPLASH!!!

RP: I do believe we're looking at the new World tagteam champions!

LVK: But strangely the Prime Time Players aren't going for the pin!

[Sly quickly makes his way back to the top rope, as The Monster drags Hervez to his feet. The
big man then grabs Hervez under the arms, and pushes him into the air, before coming down in
a sitout position, as Sly launches off of the top rope....]









*THUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!*









[HUGE FACE POP!!!!]










LVK: OH BOY!!! RICK SLY WENT FOR A LEGDROP OFF THE TOP ROPE, BUT HERVEZ MOVED OUT OF THE WAY!!

RP: Dammit! After all the punishment he's taken, Hervez should be nothing more than a lifeless
vegetable right now!!

[As Sly rolling around, holding onto his back of his thighs, Hervez rolls to his feet and 
rocks The Monster with a couple of punches. Suddenly Reed is back by his tagteam partner's
side, and they whip the big man into the ropes.....]

LVK: OH YEAH!! DOUBLE DROPKICK BY CULTURE JAM SENDS THE MONSTER FROM THE RING!!!

[FACE POP!!! Hervez slides from the ring after The Monster, and Teddy Lancaster watches him
go. With his back to Reed and Sly, the official doesn't see Vanessa slide into the ring, 
tennis racket in hand....]










*THWAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!*












LVK: OOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! VANESSA JUST *UNLOADED* ON VESPASIAN REED WITH THAT TENNIS RACKET!!!

RP: Reed's out! PIN HIM!! PIN HIM!!!!

LVK: Rick Sly does just that!!
















ONE!!!!!

























TWO!!!!!!!























RP: NEW CHAMPS!!! NEW CHAMPS!!!














[?]












[But the third count doesn't come. Teddy Lancaster stops and sees the tennis racket lying next
to the pinfall. He grabs it and climbs to his feet.]

LVK: The referee sees the racket! He knows what happened!

[Rick Sly immediately rolls to his feet, and begins pleading his case with Lancaster, but the
referee walks away from him, and holds the racket into the air, as if asking the fans what
happened. This is greated by a HUGE POP, and Lancaster nods.]

LVK: I think Teddy Lancaster is going to disqualify the Prime Time Players!

RP: NO! Dammit!

[Sly begins pleading with the referee again, but before Lancaster can do anything further,
Sly is scooped up from behind into a shoulder-mount by Elquesa Hervez! The camera then pans
to show Reed making it to the top turnbuckle. He pauses, as Hervez turns, and then jumps.....]












*THUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!*












[HUGE MOTHERF**KING FACE POP!!!!!!]















LVK: GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY!!! VESPASIAN REED CLOTHESLINED RICK SLY RIGHT OFF OF HERVEZ'S 
SHOULDERS!!! WHAT A MOVE, AND IT COULD SPELL DOOM FOR THE PRIME TIME PLAYERS!!!

RP: Damn!

LVK: HERE'S THE COVER BY ELQUESA HERVEZ!!!!

















ONE!!!!!


























TWO!!!!!!!!


























THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



[THUNDEROUS FACE POP!!!!!!]



LVK: YES!!! CULTURE JAM WINS THE MATCH!! They retain their World tagteam titles, and that 
means that the Prime Time Players cannot challenge for those belts again until after the next
pay-per-view!!

RP: Goddammit!

LVK: An incredible showing by Culture Jam, as they overcame incredible odds to win a classic
tagteam match.

[Hervez and Reed swap a big high-five, as they are handed their shiny World tagteam title 
belts, which they hoist into the air to a BIG FACE POP!!!]

LVK: Culture Jam are continuing to prove why they *are* the best tagteam in RCW, and perhaps
one of the most potent duos in RCW history.

RP: Bah, I'll give them credit for this win. But they've still got unfinished business with
the American Idols. Then we'll see who's the best.

[Continuing to celebrate for a moment, Reed and Hervez then begin to leave.]

[The camera cuts to former RCW Champion Alex Extreme closing his gym bag. He then pulls out
a roll of tape, begins taping his wrists, tosses the tape on the counter, does some 
stretching, and begins doing a little shadow boxing. Out of shot step Miss Cherry and Juan 
Vasquez, Cherry smiling and Vasquez looking wary. Extreme continues doing what he's doing, 
not even looking up.]

JV: *Ahem* You gots visitors, mo' fo'.

["Mr. Excitement" whips around in a defensive posture.]

AE: Well, well if it isn't the dog and it's bitch. Now if only I knew which one was which...

[Alex smirks as the crowd cheers while Cherry and Vasquez seem unamused.]

AE: What the f<bleep>k do you want? 

MC: Alex, such hostility. 

[Extreme shoots a cold, hateful glare at the RCW President.]

MC: Look, you've said some pretty hateful things about me in the past, but I'm willing to look
past that. You know why?

[No response from the former National champion.]

MC: Because you said even worse things about Fletcher. So I'm willing to let bygones be 
bygones, because Alex, it's time you stopped sitting on the fence. It's time you made a
decision.

AE: I did make a decision and it was that I wanted nothing to do with you *or* Fletch. Neither
one of you have mine or RCW's best interests at heart. Take your bid for greed and power 
elsewhere 'cause I ain't buying it.

MC: I can see this isn't going to be easy. Alex, I want you on my team for the War Games match
tonight. And I'll do whatever's necessary for that to happen. You want a title shot? I can
organize that in a heartbeat.

AE: Yeah, I saw your idea of helping me last week. You masterfully pointed out my foot was 
on the ropes a week AFTER it happened. No, if I want a title shot, I'll earn it on my own just
like I've done every other time. 

[Miss Cherry surprisingly doesn't look taken aback. She simply smiles confidently. But then
suddenly Vasquez steps in front of her, looking none too happy.]

JV: Hey...the lady's tryin' to be nice, here. I mean, I'd gladly kick yo' ass if that's what
she wants, but the fact I ain't done so is outta' courtesy fo' Cherry. Just know this, Alex...

[He rolls his eyes.]

JV: ...*you* need us on yo' side.

[Extreme just stares at Vasquez, not revealing anything.]

JV: Well, at least that's what Cherry thinks. Personally, I think you'd just end up chokin' 
and blowin' the match like you always seem to do.

[He chuckles.]

JV: Hell, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can just sit here and listen to 
the sales pitch, ooooorrrrr...

[Juan tilts his head and rolls his eyes towards Cherry, before snapping his head back towards
Extreme.]

JV: ...I knock yo' ass out, drag you down to that cage, and proceed to use you as a 
f[bleep]in' human shield. Of course...it's up to you.

[Was that a threat? Alex stands toe-to-toe with Juan, who just smiles.]

JV: What? You gonna'...hit me?

[Well, they're downright nose-to-nose, now. Alex manages to smirk, busting out some impressive
Spanish...]

AE: Su madre chupa gallos atrás la campana del taco en los fines de semana usted no ramera de
talento. 

[This ain't a Juan Vasquez Spanish soap opera, so no translation for you! At any rate, Alex
said some nasty things about Juan's momma. Of course...Juan just grins as the two continue
their staredown.]

JV: You care to repeat that, bitch?

AE: I said, your Momma's like a shotgun, with every...

[Cherry pushes in between the two wrestlers cutting Alex off.]

MC: Hey! I didn't come in here for you two knuckleheads to start fighting. Juan, calm down
and back off.

[Juan holds up his hands and backs away.]

JV: Aight...

[Vasquez does so begrudgingly.]

MC: Alex....I didn't want to have to bring this up, but you give me no other option. Earlier,
I overheard Fletcher talking to Dan Kauffman, and Kauffman was bragging about how he taught 
you everything you know, and how he could beat you any day of the year.

[Extreme is finally listening, his brow creasing with slight anger.]

MC: You remember what happened at Glory right? You remember that *you* were robbed because the
stupid referee didn't see your foot under the ropes? How Fletcher tried to cover up that up 
so that his boy Kauffman could go down in history as the *last* ever National champion? 

[Extreme's mouth clenches into an angry growl.]

MC: Don't you think that *you* should have been the last National champion? I mean, you were
the first...you were the man who carried this company on his back for months and months, only
for Fletcher to bring in his long list of "big names" to take your place.

[Extreme slams his hand into the mirror. It shatters instantly as blood trickles from his 
hand. Alex looks at the blood then at Cherry while wrapping his hand in a towel.]

MC: I ask you Alex - don't *you* think that you owe Fletcher just a little bit of payback for
everything he's done to you? 

AE: I don't like you and I certainly don't like him. But I don't like Fletch either. Ever 
since I lost the title, he and the rest of RCW has treated me like my reign was a mistake. 
I think it's time he understood it wasn't. As for Dan...

[Alex sighs.]

AE: Never thought the day would come that his ego would be larger than my own. He's my mentor,
but a friend? No, recent statements and actions the last few years make it clear that may 
no longer be the case. Well I guess that Dan and Fletch will learn tonight what mistake they
made. Four times I've been apart of War Games and only once did I lose. Tonight, I'm gonna
up the winning percentage.

[He looks at Cherry.]

AE: One night only. But when the match is over, all bets are off.

[Cherry smiles. Mission complete.]

MC: Good. Now come with us, because we've got a lot to talk about.

[The three walk out. Fade to black.]


*EVERYTHING SUCKS!!*


[ROCKIN' FACE POP!!! "Everything Sucks (Andy Wallace Remix)" by Dope begins 
to blare through the PA system, and out through the curtain comes the owner 
of River City Wrestling himself - Clint Fletcher. The boss is all decked out 
in a black silk shirt and faded blue jeans.]

LVK: Well here's something unexpected. It looks like the bossman is out 
here...

[And as jeers start to ring from the rafters of The Mid-South Colisseum, 
Fletch waves towards the back where a handcuffed Eric Vanguard is escorted 
through the curtain by two uniformed police officers. His hands behind his 
back, Vanguard makes his way down the fan-crowded aisle, lead by a practically 
glowing owner of RCW.]

RP: Vanguard is STILL in cuffs from last week! What is going on here? Why 
does Fletch have him out here?

LVK: Well if you'd be quiet for a half a second, maybe we will find out. 
Fletch is asking for a microphone now.

[As Fletch is passed the microphone, taps his hand off the top of it a 
few times to make sure it is working - before raising it to his smirking 
lips.]

CF: Hello Memphis Tennessee! Welcome to our very special Tribute to Old School! 
This is the night when we pay tribute to the forefathers of our sport. To a time
when men were men, and an ass-kicking was an ass-kicking. Hell if any wrestling
organisation in the world embodies what's great about this sport, it's the 
goddamned ARGH...SEE....DUB.

[POP!]

CF: We've got plenty of great stuff in store for you tonight - hell even I don't
know  what everyone has up their sleeve. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the 
show..But first we have some old business to take care of.

[Slowly turning in a half circle, Clint Fletcher turns to look at Eric 
Vanguard who is sneering sinisterly in his direction. Shaking his head, 
Fletcher extends a hand towards the former prison guard.]

CF: I'm sure everyone here is familiar with this poor excuse for a human being
standing behind me. This here is Eric Vanguard, and he's part of RCW's "old school". 
He was part of RCW's first ever Main Event. He was part of the infamous Caged Rage 
match last year. He's a former President of River City Wrestling...and he is without 
a shadow of a doubt the _BIGGEST_ pain in the ass this company or any other has ever 
known. Well....maybe a close second to Miss Cherry, but that's a damn *close* second.

[YOU TELL HIM FLETCH POP!!!]

CF: Time and time again this man has used and abused power and authority 
here in River City Wrestling, without EVER getting what he had coming to 
him. Until tonight. Because for once in your life Eric, it's time to face the
damn music.

[With his sneer still on his face, Vanguard cocks his eyebrow a bit 
curiously as he starts to walk towards Clint Fletcher, but is jerked back by 
the guards.]

CF: Yeah you stand there and listen to what I have to say, you son of a bitch. 
Because last week you went above and beyond your call of duty here in River 
City Wrestling. Wrestling by nature is a violent sport, ask Tommy Stephens, 
Juan Vasquez, Demon Boy - they will confirm that. But wrestling, in case you 
haven't noticed is CONTROLLED violence...or well it should be. But what you did
in this ring last week was _NOT_ what this game is about. What you did was an 
act of malice, an unprovoked attack on one of our wrestlers, and dare I say 
it _ASSAULT AND BATTERY_!

[Nodding his head in affirmation, Fletch is kind of surprised to see 
Vanguard starting to beam at the very thought of his actions.]

CF: Your actions Eric, put me in a very difficult bind. The way I see it, I had
a few options. I could have you sent up the river for a couple of years...

[The crowd "Oooohs" at the threat of imprisonment.]

CF: I could suspend you without pay...

[There is a small smattering of applause.]

CF: I _COULD_ FIRE YOU RIGHT HERE - RIGHT NOW!

[GIGANTIC FIRE HIS ASS POP!!!]

CF: Wait a second folks, cause there IS another option. And it's the one 
I've chosen.

LVK: What could be worse than firing him?

[Smiling brightly now Fletch turns towards the rampway and raises the mic 
once again to his lips.]

CF: He's all yours!

[Silence]

LVK: Huh?

RP: What?

# Up in the hot tub, poppin bubb-ly
# Rubbin your spot love, punish me
# But it don't stop, watch the Pun get wicked
# When I stick it even Luke be like "Don't stop, get it get it"

LVK: And here comes Valentine - listen to this crowd!!

RP: Feh.

[WAKE THE NEIGHBOURS POP-O-RAMA!!! Incubus' version of Big Pun's 'Still Not 
a Player' brings the 'bling', rockin' the arena. The fans leap to their feet 
and start pushing and shoving their way to the rail, about to have their 
world rocked, their roof raised, and their lives completed by the one... the 
only...]

[Em.]

[Jiggy.]

[Vee.]

# I don't wanna be a playa no more
# I'm not a playa I just crush a lot
# But Big Punisher still got what you're lookin for
# Uptown baby, uptown
# I don't wanna be a playa no more
# I'm not a playa I just crush a lot
# But you know Big Pun and Rocks still down by law
# Who's down to crush a lot

[Tossing the curtain aside, Valentine spins out of the gate, pumping his 
fist in the air, and the crowd shakes the Mid-South Coliseum to its 
foundations with another massive pop. Dressed in black slacks and a 
wide-collared white shirt under a leather blazer, ol' Em Jiggy zig-zags off 
down the aisle, flashbulbs popping and the fans reaching out to touch him. 
Vanguard glares from the ring.]

RP: Wait... where's Fletcher going?

LVK: He's apparently handing Vanguard over to MJV, Rick... he's got no 
business here.

RP: [sarcasm] Right. He's wussin' out, is what he's doing.

[Meeting da boss (~!) in the aisle, Maddy V pats him on the shoulder and 
slips aside, leaping up on to the apron. He grimaces with the effort, 
holding his injured ribs, but manages to flash the *only* grin before 
ducking between the ropes. Picking up Fletch's mic off the mat, he goes to 
brush past Vanguard... but the former prison guard steps right up into his 
face. For a few moments, the two are toe-to-toe and pretty much 
eye-to-eye... until Valentine spins away.]

MJV: I gotta give the devil his due, Vanguard. Gotta hand it to you.

Your effort in Nashville ranks pretty high on my 'All Time Biggest, Baddest 
Beatdowns' list.

[He pauses. The man known as 'Excessive Force' surprisingly unovercome.]

MJV: Top 3? Probably, yeah. Top 2? ... eh... I guess it's possible.

Numero uno? Em Jiggy Vee's biggest, baddest beatdown of *all time*? ... 
well, we wouldn't want you to be gettin' big-headed, or nothing. So I'll 
keep you guessin'.

[A wink. Vanguard, the old party animal that he is, remains stony-faced.]

MJV: The point is... you did good, big guy. *Real* good. I mean... for a guy 
who's been on the wrong end of Chris Hopper more times than a cheeseburger...

[CHRIS HOPPER ABUSE POP!!]

MJV: ... heh... but for a guy who's gotta live with that, whoopin' on ol' 
Madison J. with the kinda poise and style you gave it has gotta be a career 
high point. Right?

[No prizes for guessing Vanguard's reaction (or lack of it). Val slips him 
some grin.]

MJV: Ok, ok. I can see you're not in the mood for small talk, so here's the 
deal, hot shot. Fletch says that you're mine for me to deal with however I 
see fit - and he's the boss, so we gotta do what he says. A'ight?

Now, don't get me wrong, here, dude... I ain't gonna make you do anything 
stupid, like dance, or nothing... I ain't even gonna make you let me stick 
that nightstick up your cornhole, or whatever it is you're used to 'back 
home'.

[POP!!]

LVK: Oh boy.

MJV: Alls you gotta do is apologise to me. Say you're sorry, and your free 
to go, move on to some happy little undercard feud and... y'know, stuff. 
Mm'kay?

RP: What? He wants Vanguard to *apologise* to him?

LVK: That may be a little optimistic on Valentine's part...

MJV: You cool with that, Sparky? We're just talking a simple "I'm sorry", 
here, after all. I'm not even gonna make you grovel, kiss my shoes, or my 
ass, or anything. Unless you really wanna, of course, I can dig it. Not the 
ass, though.

[He eyes him suspiciously.]

MJV: *Not* the ass.

So c'mon, Slick, ya' ready? Smarten yourself up, first...

[Val steps forward and straightens Vanguard's flak jacket, before moving on 
to the belt. He messes with the long, jet-black hair, styling it roughly. 
Vanguard stands stock-still, the whole time, just staring at Em Jiggy Vee.]

LVK: *Oh* boy.

RP: He's so gonna get beaten down for this.

MJV: Ok... you're ready, you're ready. *This*... this is your big moment.

So c'mon, amigo. Gimme some a' that apologisin' voodoo you do so well.

[He holds the mic in front of Vanguard's face. Unbelievably... he says 
nothing.]

MJV: Hmm. You remember what you have to say, don't you? "I'm... sorry"? 
Yeah?

Ah! I get it. You're in silent protest over your treatment in prison? That 
it?

LVK: Umm...

MJV: I mean, I saw they shaved off your Muslim beard... ['WTF?!' POP!!] ... 
and everything, but that's an improvement, trust me! You look *good* without 
it!

RP: Muslim beard?!

[Val turns to the security guards.]

MJV: What's the deal with the cuffs, anyway? There's no animosity, here, 
look! I'm a nice guy, he's... umm... sorta an ok guy, I dunno...

RP: This man is an idiot.

MJV: Don't just stand there! I own him, and I say take the cuffs off! So 
*take the cuffs off*!

[The guards glance at one another... then the one on the left reaches into 
his pocket, and sets to work on the cuffs. Val taps his foot impatiently...]

MJV: Guys - this is a *two* hour show, c'mon. Hurry it up.

RP: Does he have a death wish?! Vanguard'll kill him if they take the cuffs 
off!

LVK: If they ever *do* get the cuffs off... looks like that guard's having 
some trouble...

[Cut to a reverse angle, showing this guard not dealing with the handcuffs 
at all - in fact handing the still-cuffed Vanguard his nightstick. The 
members of the crowd who see this on the big screen sound a HUGE PROTEST 
POP!!]

LVK: What?! Vanguard's got a nightstick! That security guard just handed him 
a nightstick!

RP: Genius!


*dud!*




*THWACK!!!*




[MASSIVE SHOCKED POP!!]

RP: WHAT THE-?!

LVK: OH MY GOD-- SILVER BULLET!! VALENTINE OUTTA NOWHERE WITH THAT 
SUPERKICK!!

['Excessive Force' goes down like he's slipped on ice, as the two guards 
take their cue and bail from the ring. Valentine's momentum carries him 
through into the ropes. He shrugs off his leather jacket, and stomps around 
Vanguard's carcass as the crowd goes ape-shizzy. He picks the mic back up.]

MJV: Guess what, f[MEEEEEP!]kface?!?

[He stands over Vanguard, bends right down in his face.]

MJV: I changed my f[MEEEEEP!]kin' mind!!

*dud!*

[He throws down the mic again and straddles Vanguard. Grabbing a handful of 
hair and starts to hammer away on the former prison guard's forehead.]

LVK: OOOHH BOY!! VALENTINE BEATING THE HELL OUTTA VANGUARD!!

RP: Vanguard can't get his hands up to defend himself, Van Keel! This is 
sick!!

[Maddy V springs to his feet again pumping his arms in the air and riling 
the Memphis crowd up even further. Vanguard's nightstick is lying on the 
canvas, and he picks it up and taps it against his palm. The crowd pops, 
big-time.]

LVK: VALENTINE WITH VANGUARD'S OWN NIGHTSTICK, NOW!!

RP: Hey! Put that down, punkhead!! You're not authorised to use that!!

[Struggling in the cuffs, Vanguard rolls over on to his side, and manages to 
get to his feet. Em Jig is poised across the ring, clutching the nightstick 
with both hands. As 'Excessive Force' turns, he charges, leaping into the 
air...]


*THUD!!*


[.. and driving the end of the baton into Vanguard's forehead!! BRUTALITY 
POP!!]

RP: ARGH!!

LVK: OH MY GOD!! WHAT A BRUTAL SHOT TO THE HEAD WITH THAT NIGHTSTICK!!

RP: Where's security?! This punk's outta control! Vanguard can't defend 
himself!

[MJV throws down the nightstick, as the blood begins to flow from Vanguard's 
hairline. David Stokes scurries away from the timekeeping area as Valentine 
slides out of the ring, snatching up his chair and snapping it flat.]

LVK: And Valentine's still not done! He's got a chair, now!!

RP: Where the hell's Fletcher?! Why isn't he bringing security out here?!?

[Circling around the ring, Em Jig rolls in on the other side, chair in hand. 
He taps the edge against the canvas, as the former prison guard - who would 
be incensed at being hit with his own nightstick if he wasn't totally out of 
it - struggles back up to his feet, the claret covering his face. Val lines 
it up...]





*KRRRRACCK!!!*





LVK: OOOOOOOOOOHH GOD!!

RP: HOLY SH[BLEEP!]!!

LVK: VALENTINE JUST NAILED VANGUARD IN THE HEAD WITH THAT CHAIR!!

RP: HE BROKE THE DAMN CHAIR, VAN KEEL!! HE BROKE IT OVER VANGUARD'S SKULL!!

[Indeed, a piece of the steel goes spinning up into the air off the impact, 
as Vanguard tumbles out of the ring like dead weight, falling dangerously 
into a heap at ringside. Valentine leans over the ropes and throws the chair 
down on top of him, before grabbing the ropes and vaulting over the top to 
the floor.]

LVK: They're right out in front of us, now! MJV with a perfectly EVIL 
chairshot!

RP: He's snapped, Van Keel! Valentine's gone off the deep end!!

[Throwing up the ring apron, Maddy V rummages around underneath the ring.]

RP: Oh! Yeuch! What in the hell is that smell?!

[And Val pulls a bucket out.]

LVK: Oh my God... is that..?

RP: He wouldn't!!

LVK: That's a bucket of tar!! Valentine pulling a bucket of tar out from 
under the ring!!

[He reaches under the ring again, and pulls out a couple of pillows. The 
crowd, sensing what's on the cards for Eric Vanguard, sound a BIG-ASS 
MUH-FUH POP!!!]

RP: He can't do this, Van Keel!! Somebody stop this!!

[Taking up the bucket of tar, Mad Val pumps his fist in the air, and pours 
it all over Vanguard! The crowd goes wild as he kicks him over on to his 
stomach, and empties what remains of the bucket on to the former guard's 
back. HUGE POP!]

LVK: UNBELIEVABLE!! MADISON J. VALENTINE IS COVERING ERIC VANGUARD IN TAR!!

RP: Oh.. *cough* .. oh God.. *retch*.. that stinks! I think I'm gonna be 
sick!

[Throwing the bucket down on Vanguard's head, Val snatches up a pillow, and 
tears it open. The crowd is practically in orbit, as he shakes the contents 
out all over the man they call 'Excessive Force'!!]

LVK: VANGUARD BEING TARRED AND FEATHERED RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING!!! 
TALK ABOUT OLD-SCHOOL HUMILIATION!!

RP: *coughs and retches again*

[Grabbing Vanguard by the shoulder, Mad pulls him over on to his back again, 
before ripping the other pillow wide open and tipping another batch of 
feathers all over him!]

RP: This is a travesty!! Security!! Security!!

['Still Not a Player' hits, as Valentine, brushing the feathers off himself, 
reaches into the ring, grabs his leather coat and leaves the arena, posing 
for the crowd and shouting abuse at Vanguard. At ringside, the former prison 
guard finally comes round from that earlier chairshot, and, having coughed 
up a couple of feathers, sits up groggily...]

EV: *WHAT THE [bleep]?!?!*

[Em Jiggy Vee is milking the ovation on the stage, as Vanguard attempts to 
get back to his feet, but slips on the tar and lands flat on his face in a 
mess of feathers.]

RP: That punk better make the most of this while he can, Van Keel - because 
once Vanguard gets his hands on him, he'll probably never walk again!

LVK: Vanguard has received the ultimate humiliation in front of this 
capacity crowd, but you're right, Rick - Valentine may well live to regret 
this!

RP: You *know* he'll live to regret it! Vanguard's a psychopath!!

[A grinning Madison J. Valentine disappears behind the curtain, as Vanguard 
crawls across ringside as best he can in his handcuffs, struggling back up 
to his feet.]

LVK: Fans, we need to get the ring cleaned up, and get Eric Vanguard to a 
shower *snicker*, so let's head backstage!

[The camera fades back to the chilling image of a bullrope, being swung back 
and forth. The man holding the rope? Legend Killer...eyes glued on the 
camera, hands balled up around the rope, swinging it with a purpose, with 
passion...with hatred. He looks down, then back at the camera, as a smirk 
forms across Chris Courtade's face.]

CC: I wonder what went through your mind, as you placed your own fate into 
my hands. Was it attention...the ever growing _need_ to feel like you're 
apart of something? Was it greed...the need to have your face and name 
splattered across this business, like the cheap whore you work for? Or was 
it just a flat out suicidal tendency...did you want to place your life in 
front of your creator, and see how he's deemed your time alive?

[Courtade softly chuckles.]

CC: Either way, tonight, you pay. You ran into this company, beating up 
people, breaking ankles, and talkin' a whole lotta s[BLEEP!]. So, I assumed 
you read my blueprint for success, and just decided to ignore the copyright, 
is that right bitch? See, what you're doing..._I_ created. What you're 
attempting to do..._I've_ done all my career. You're nothing more then 
another in the long line of queers that think you're a tough sumbitch, 
'cause you run up behind people, and get a notch in your post.

Well guess what bawh?

Tonight, you get a helluva lot more then a notch in your post. Tonight, 
you're gonna get a f[BLEEP!]in' education, ya dig? I'm gonna whip your ass 
all over that ring, and make you an example to everyone that's in the back. 
You want to stick your 'tarded ass in my business...you'll pay. You wanna 
get a mark off my name, and who _I_ am...you'll pay. I hope those two 
bitches are watching as well...hell, part of me hopes they make the walk, 
down that aisle, with "evil intentions" on their minds...

Because at some point...people will realize...

[Courtade begins to chuckle yet again, deeply, slowly.]

CC: When you tempt the devil with fire...

He burns your f[BLEEP!]in' ass straight to hell.

So Rembrandt? The question is...tonight...are you willin' to play with 
matches...because if you are...

[Courtade closes his eyes.]

CC: Your ass belongs to me.

[With that, Courtade chuckles, as he leaves the locker room, and heads to 
the ring.]

[Fade to the ring.]

DS: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a 30 minute time limit. It will be
fought under Texas Bullrope rules!

[POP!]

DS: Both wrestlers will be attached at the wrist by a length of rope, which will have a 
cowbell attached in the middle.


# WHEN YOU'RE RIPE, YOU'LL BLEED OUT OF CONTROL, YOU'LL BLEED OUT OF CONTROL! #

 
["Elite" by the Deftones kicks in over the PA system, and the crowd immediately reacts - 
some of them cheering, others booing.  The man known simply as Rembrandt steps through the
entranceway and walks down to the ring, not bothering to acknowledge the reaction of the 
crowd, much less their existence.  Dressed in a pair of simple loose black cotton pants,
black boots, black gloves, and blue and gold shinpads, Rembrandt is focused solely on the
ring. Rembrandt quickly approaches the ringside area, ascends the ringsteps, and enters 
the ring - shouting an instruction or two at the official, shakes his head, and moves into
his corner to complete his prematch warmups.]

DS: Introducing first....weighing in at 240 pounds, from Kyoto, Japan....


REEEEEEMMMMBRANDT!!!!!!


LVK: There he is, the monster who snapped a man's ankle with his bare hands at Glory, and who 
has rolled over virtually every opponent put in front of him here in RCW.

 
#F**k you...because I _can_#


[The voice is followed by the ever familiar screeching sound...which causes the arena to jump 
up...and look towards the entrance way. The deep bass kicks over the arena, as they begin to go
wild.]

#Journey with me into the mind of a maniac
doomed to be a killer
since I came out the nutsac
I'm in a murderous mindsate
with a heart full of terror
I see the devil in the mirror#

["Natural Born Killaz" blares over the arena, as walking out of the back, to a face pop...
"Cold Blooded" Chris Courtade.]

DS: And his opponent....hailing from Dallas Texas, and weighing in at 281 pounds...


"COLD BLOODED"


CHRRIIIIIIISSSSS COUUURRRTTAAAAAAAAAADDDDEEEEEE!!!!!!!!


#Barrel one touches your motherf**kin flesh
Barrel two shoots your f**kin heart out your chest
you see I'm quick to let the hammer go click
on my Tec-9 so if you try to reck mine fool
It's your bad time feel the blast of the chocolate bomber
Infra red aimed at your head like your name was Sarah Conner
Decapitatin I aint hesitatin to put you in the funeral home
with a bullet in your dome
I'm hot like lava you got a problem?
I got a problem solver and his name is revolver
It's like a deadly game of freeze tag I touch you with a 44 mag
and your frozen inside a boddy bag nobody iller than
this grave yard filler cap peeler cause...#

[The crowd begins to sing along...]

#I'm a natural born killa#

[Courtade is wearing his now-familiar "Legend Killer" t-shirt and his usual attire. 
He steps into the ring and points at Rembrandt, while also locking an intense stare on his
adversary.]




 __    ___ __      ______________________________________________________________
| _ \ /  _\\ \    / /
| U < | |_  \ \/\/ /                 Texas Bullrope match
|_|\_\\___/  \_/\_/
              \                  "Cold Blooded" Chris Courtade
  Written by   \                             vs
    Fletch      \                        Rembrandt
                 \_______________________________________________________________


LVK: Remember, Rembrandt interfered in last week's River City title match, causing Courtade
to lose the match, and allowing Juan Vasquez to become the first ever holder of that title.

RP: Yup, and now Courtade's all pissed off. I'm not sure if that's a good thing for Rembrandt.

[Referee Teddy Lancaster holds the bullrope, and he holds it up to a HUGE POP from the crowd.
He then takes one end and hands it to Courtade, who starts fastening it around his wrist. But
before the official can give the other end to Rembrandt, he attacks!]



*CLAAANNNNGGGGGGG!!!!*




[BIG SHOCK POP!!!]




LVK: GOOD GOD!!! REMBRANDT GRABBED THE COWBELL AND SLAMMED COURTADE OVER THE HEAD WITH IT!!
AND REMBRANDT'S NOT EVEN ATTACHED TO THE BULLROPE!!

[The blow from the bell drops Courtade to one knee, and Rembrandt wastes no time in following
up with two sharp left-foot kicks to the shoulder, before dropping back and unloading a big 
right-foot kick across the Texan's chest....]




*THWAAAACCKKKKK!!!!*




[STIFF SHOT POP!!]




RP: SWEET JESUS!! Did you hear that?

LVK: That kick sounded like a rifleshot!

[The kick sends Courtade down to both knees, his fists clenched in front of his chest and his 
mouth open in shocked pain. Rembrandt doesn't give him any opportunity to recover though, 
dragging the big Texan to his feet, and sending him into the ropes. Rembrandt lashes out with
a flying leg lariat as Courtade rebounds, but the Texan ducks under the leg, and Rembrandt
falls to the mat. He rolls to his feet quickly, but suddenly finds himself in the strong
grasp of Courtade, and a BIG POP goes up as Courtade holds on for a split second, before
lifting, turning and driving Rembrandt into the mat....]







*THUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!!*







LVK: SPINEBUSTAAAHHHHH BY COURTADE!!

[Courtade quickly rolls up and mounts Rembrandt, and begins raining down punches onto the
Japan native's forehead! FACE POP!!! As this is happening, Teddy Lancaster grabs the other 
end of the rope and starts fastening it to Rembrandt's wrist. He finishes, and signals towards
the timekeeper....]


*DING DING!!!*


LVK: Finally the bell sounds, and this match is officially underway!

RP: What the hell was that ref doing? Who does he think he is, touching a superstar like 
Rembrandt?

LVK: If he hadn't done that, this match might never have started! These two would just brawl
all over the building!

[With both men now firmly attached by the bullrope, Courtade drags Rembrandt to his feet,
and whips him across the ring into the far corner, making sure to follow after him so that
the bullrope won't interfere. Rembrandt hits the turnbuckles hard backfirst, and a 
split-second later....]




*THUUUUMMMPPP!!!!*




[BIG FACE POP!!!]




LVK: Courtade with a big lariat into the corner, and we all know that *nobody* lariats harder
than the man from Dallas Texas!

[Courtade backs away from the corner, allowing Rembrandt to fall facefirst to the mat. But he
doesn't stay down for long, as Courtade grabs a handful of hair and yanks him up, while
grabbing the cowbell.....]






*CLAAAAAAAAAANNNNGGGG!!!*







*CLAAAAAAAAAANNNNGGGG!!!*







*CLAAAAAAAAAANNNNGGGG!!!*







*CLAAAAAAAAAANNNNGGGG!!!*







[HUGE MOTHERF**KING HARDCORE POP!!!!]







LVK: OH MY GOD!!! COURTADE WITH FOUR SHOTS WITH THE COWBELL TO REMBRANDT'S HEAD!!!

RP: Rembrandt's been busted open!

[Rembrandt falls back to the mat, and the camera zooms in to show a good-sized patch of blood
flowing from the middle of his forehead. Courtade stands for a second or two, admiring his
handiwork, and then grabs a loop of the thick, heavy rope, and wraps it around his fist twice.
He then simply drops down with the loaded fist....]

RP: HOLY SCHNIKIES! COURTADE'S BLOODYING HIM UP REAL GOOD!!

[Courtade climbs to his feet, the rope still looped around his fist, and then drops again,
bringing a BIG FACE POP!]

LVK: Rembrandt did something to piss off Chris Courtade last week, and now he's paying for
it!

[With blood now flowing down his face, Rembrandt is dragged to his feet. Courtade pounds a 
few punches into the oozing forehead, bringing a blood-splattered hand away after each shot.
He then sends Rembrandt into the ropes, and unloads with one of his trademark lariats. But
Rembrandt sees it coming and drops down into a baseball slide. He springs to his feet behind
Courtade's back, with the rope now between the big Texan's legs.....]

LVK: OOOOOOHHHHHH!!!!!

[Pulling viciously on the rope, Rembrandt drives it up into Courtade's crotch, bringing a
loud PROTEST POP from the crowd, and etching a look of shock on Courtade's face. Rembrandt
quickly follows up by grabbing the cowbell and rushing forward while swinging....]






*CLAAAAAAAAAANNNNGGGG!!!!!*







[BIG ASS SHOCK POP!!!]







RP: HOLY CRAP!!! COWBELL SHOT RIGHT TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD!!!

LVK: Look at the bell! It's bent out of shape in several places!

[Rembrandt doesn't seem to care though, as he rolls Courtade over onto his back, and places 
the bell on the Texan's forehead. He then stands up straight again, raises his right leg, and
quickly stomps downwards....]







*CLAAAAAAANN-CRRKKKK!!*







[HARDCORE POP!!!]








LVK: OH MY GOD!!! WHAT A SICKENINGLY BRUTAL SHOT FROM REMBRANDT!!!

RP: Are you surprised? This is the guy who broke a man's ankle with his bare hands!

LVK: I do believe that Chris Courtade is now bleeding too! 

RP: Woohoo!

[Rolling Courtade over onto his stomach, Rembrandt crouches over the middle of his back, and
grabs both arms, lifting them up into a camel clutch position. But this is no ordinary camel
clutch, because instead of cradling the chin with his hands, Rembrandt wraps the rope around
Courtade's throat and pulls back! BIG PROTEST POP!!!]

LVK: DEAR GOD!! Rembrandt is close to getting disqualified right here!

RP: Bah, like he cares!

[Teddy Lancaster begins admonishing Rembrandt, then does the traditional four-count, before
Rembrandt lets go, and allows Courtade to flop back to the mat, coughing and hacking for 
breath.]

RP: Look at the bigshot Courtade now! Rembrandt's making him his bitch!

[Rembrandt stands, the cowbell in his hand, and waits for Courtade to struggle back to his 
feet....]





*CLAAAAAANNNGGGGGG!!!!*





LVK: OH! And back down goes Courtade courtesy of another cowbell shot!!

[Again Rembrandt waits, and again Courtade struggles up, albeit more slowly this time....]





*CLAAAAAAAAAAAANNNGGGGG!!!!!*





RP: ANOTHER ONE!! Rembrandt's gonna bust Courtade's skull in!

LVK: I don't know about that, but Chris Courtade is now bleeding profusely from the head!

RP: That makes two of them!

[Looking to increase the punishment, Rembrandt then climbs up to the second rope, the cowbell
still in his hands. He waits for Courtade to struggle to his feet again, and then jumps 
off.....]







*CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!*







[BIG PROTEST POP!!!]








LVK: OH MY GOD! Chris Courtade is really bleeding now! They might have to stop the match!

RP: Like hell they will! I'm enjoying this too damn much!

[Again Rembrandt climbs to the second turnbuckle, and waits for Courtade to get up. But this 
time Rembrandt waits a fraction of a second too long, and suddenly Courtade grabs the rope 
with one hand and pulls....]

LVK: COURTADE!

[Rembrandt is pulled off of the turnbuckle, and flies through the air, right into the awaiting
outstretched arm of Courtade....]







*THUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!!!*








[DEAFENING FACE POP!!!!!]









LVK: OOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!!!!!! COURTADE PULLED REMBRANDT RIGHT INTO A TRADEMARK TEXAS LARIAT!!!















ONE!!!
























TWO!!!!!


























THR-But NO! Shoulder up by Rembrandt!

RP: He's a tough sonuvabitch alright!

[As Courtade climbs off of Rembrandt, the bloody Japan native rolls under the bottom rope to
the floor. Courtade has no choice but to roll out after him, connected as they are. Rembrandt
staggers along the tiny ringside area, and grabs a chair out of the crowd. He lazily throws it
at Courtade, but Courtade easily ducks, and pulls on the rope, bringing Rembrandt careening 
towards him.....]





*THWAAAAPPPPP!!!!*





LVK: BIG YAKUZA KICK SENDS REMBRANDT DOWN TO THE CONCRETE!!!

RP: Man, that's gonna leave some bruises!

[Dragging the stunned Rembrandt to his feet, Courtade backs him up against the ringpost, and
then begins to wrap the bullrope around him, tying him to the post! POP!]

RP: Oh crap! What's Courtade up to here?

[With Rembrandt tied to the post, Courtade then grabs the chair which Rembrandt threw moments
ago, and folds it up. He then lines up Rembrandt, and swings at head-height!]








*KAH-LAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNKKKKKKK!!!!!!*








[BIG SURPRISE POP!!!]








RP: REMBRANDT GOT FREE OF THE ROPE, AND JUST AS WELL!! 

LVK: Indeed! That chairshot could have killed him!

RP: It's incredible that we've only had one pinfall attempt so far in this match! These two
just want to destroy each other, with winning the match as an afterthought!

[The impact of the chair against the post still rattling his bones, Courtade is a sitting 
target as Rembrandt suddenly lashes out with a thrusting kick....]




*THWAACCKKK!!!*




LVK: OH BOY!! WHAT A SUPERKICK BY REMBRANDT!!!

[Rolling Courtade into the ring and sliding in after him, Rembrandt drags the big Texan to his
feet, and hooks him in a front waistlock....]



*THUUUUDDDDD!!!*



LVK: OVERHEAD BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX!! HERE'S THE COVER!!!














ONE!!!!






















TWO!!!!!























THREE-



[BIG FACE POP!!]



LVK: NOOO!! Kickout by Courtade!!

[A look of frustration showing through his mask of blood, Rembrandt drags Courtade up again,
and hoists him up onto the top turnbuckle!]

RP: Rembrandt wants to finish it! 

[Climbing up onto the top turnbuckle, Rembrandt spins Courtade around, and begins trying to
pull him into a standing headscissor up top, bringing a HUGE EXPECTANT POP from the crowd!]

LVK: I think he's going for the top-rope sit-out powerbomb - a move which has finished off
several wrestlers in the past!!

RP: This is gonna do it!

[But before Rembrandt can go through with the move, Courtade suddenly roars with effort and
surges upwards, sending Rembrandt flying through the air, flipping over and landing 
backfirst.....]






*THUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!!!!!*






RP: HOLY SHIZNIT!!!

LVK: A BACKDROP FROM THE TOP ROPE!!! AMAZING!!!

[Courtade drops down to the mat, and hunches over, collecting his breath and thoughts, as 
Rembrandt struggles back to his feet. Courtade turns to see him getting up, and suddenly spins
around 360 degrees on the spot, and unloads a huge swinging punch!]







*THUUUUUUUUUUDDDDD!!!!*








[BIG FACE POP!!!!]








LVK: OOOOOOHHHHHHH!!!! DISCUS PUNCH!!!!

RP: Goddamn that was stiff!

[Courtade remains on his feet, and he begins to wrap a part of the rope around his forearm, 
wrapping more and more until he gets to the cowbell. He pulls that against the crook of his
elbow, using the rest of the rope to hook it in place, and then waits for Rembrandt to get to
his feet....HUGE EXPECTANT POP!!]

RP: WHAT'S COURTADE DOING?

[Rembrandt stumbles to his feet in a daze, and turns to face Courtade, who suddenly rushes 
forward, thrusting the rope-and-cowbell wrapped arm out.....]









*CLAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG!!!!!*













*THUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!*












[TEAR-THE-ROOF-OFF HIGHSPOT POP!!!!!]











LVK + RP: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

[As the cowbell impacts with Rembrandt's head incredibly hard, the Japanese wrestler goes
crashing to the mat like he'd been run over by a Mack truck!]

LVK: WHAT A LARIAT!!! A WESTERN LARIAT....BUT WITH THE COWBELL WRAPPED ONTO THE ARM!!!

RP: I DON'T FREAKIN' BELIEVE IT!!!

LVK: Rembrandt may be out cold, and the pinfall now seems like a formality!













ONE!!!!






















TWO!!!!!!

























THR-







[THUNDEROUS HEEL POP!!!!]







LVK: VASQUEZ!!! JUAN VASQUEZ SLID INTO THE RING AND BROKE UP THE COUNT!!!

*DING DING DING!!!*

LVK: Teddy Lancaster has called for the bell, disqualifying Rembrandt for Juan Vasquez's 
interference!!

RP: I guess Juan's returning the favor for last week.

[Vasquez grabs the cowbell as Courtade gets up to one knee....]






*CLAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNGGGGGG!!!!!*






[HEEL POP!!!]







LVK: AND NOW VASQUEZ USES THE COWBELL ON COURTADE!!!!

RP: That bell's all bent out of shape, and covered in blood!

[Undoing the bullrope from around Courtade's wrist, Vasquez drags the dazed and bloody Texan
to his feet, and pushes him backfirst into a corner. He then backs away, before turning and 
running fullspeed at Courtade. He ducks low and launches with one of his trademark spear 
tackles....]






*THWUUUNNKKKK!!!!*






[BIG FACE POP!!!!]






LVK: COURTADE MOVED!!! VASQUEZ HIT THE RINGPOST WITH HIS SHOULDER!!!

RP: Dammit!

[Wiping some of the blood from his eyes, Courtade drags Vasquez back to a standing position, 
and slumps him against the turnbuckles. He then walks over and stomps at Rembrandt a couple of
times, and unhooks the bullrope from his wrist. Taking the rope over to Vasquez, he then 
proceeds to tie Juan to the corner! BIG POP!!]

LVK: OOOOOOOH MY!!! COURTADE HAS VASQUEZ TIED UP WITH NOWHERE TO GO!!!

[The crowd rises in unison and roars with a DEAFENING FACE POP as Courtade winds up, and then
starts laying into the helpless Vasquez with big right hands to the chin, ribs and gut!]

LVK: VASQUEZ HAS SCREWED CHRIS COURTADE OVER FOR THE LAST TIME!! HE'S A HUMAN PUNCHING BAG!!!

[After a flurry of punches leaves Vasquez slumped forward in his restraints, Courtade then 
steps back, admires his handiwork, and then forms his right hand into a claw-like position, 
staring down at it. BIG SOUTHERN POP!!!]

RP: OH....OH SH[bleep]!! HE'S NOT GONNA....DO THAT? IS HE?!?

LVK: YES HE IS!!!

[The crowd volume kicks up another notch into all-out screaming mayhem as Courtade steps 
forward, and thrusts the hand onto Vasquez's head, squeezing down on the River City champion's
forehead and temples!!]

RP: ARGGGHHH!!!

LVK: THE IRON CLAW!!! THE IRON CLAW!!!

[As Courtade clamps down on the hold with all of his might, Juan does the only thing he
possibly can. He starts to scream for his life!]

LVK: INCREDIBLE!!! CHRIS COURTADE HAS JUAN VASQUEZ TRAPPED, AND HE'S SQUEEZING THE VERY
LIFE OUT OF HIM!!!

[The screaming continues, and a trickle of blood actually starts to fall from one side 
of Vasquez's pain-reddened head! But salvation finally comes for Juan, as the bloody and
beaten Rembrandt finally gets back to his feet and saves the day....]








*THWAAAAAAAAAAACCCKKKKK!!!!*









[HUGE SHOCK/HEEL POP!!!!]









LVK: DEAR GOD ALMIGHTY!! REMBRANDT WITH A VICIOUS ENZUIGIRI KICK TO THE BACK OF COURTADE'S
HEAD!!!

RP: It broke the Iron Claw, but the damage might have already been done! He squeezed so hard
that Juan's bleeding from the temple!!

[With Courtade face-down on the mat, Rembrandt begins untying Vasquez. Juan can do little more
than slump forward against the bullrope, an expression of complete disorientation on his face.
Finally the rope comes free, and Vasquez drops to his knees, drawing his hands up to his 
pained and bloody forehead region.]

LVK: Chris Courtade has won this match by disqualification, but more importantly, he has 
inflicted some serious damage on Juan Vasquez!

RP: Yeah, and now he's gonna pay for it!

[Rembrandt helps Vasquez to his feet, and Vasquez's pained expression turns to one of anger.
Rembrandt drags Courtade to his feet, and Vasquez grabs the bullrope. He holds onto one end,
while Rembrandt takes the other, and whips Courtade into the ropes.....]








*CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNGGGGGG!!!!*









*THUUUUUUDDDDDD!!!!*









[GIGANTIC PROTEST POP!!!!]









RP: HOLY COW!!! THEY USED THE ROPE TO CLOTHESLINE COURTADE, WITH THE COWBELL CATCHING HIM
RIGHT IN THE FACE!!!

LVK: DEAR GOD! It almost took his head off!

[As Courtade slumps facedown on the blood-splattered mat, his face a mess of crimson, 
Rembrandt and Vasquez have a quick conversation, planning their next move. Vasquez, frowning
angrily, points at the ropes, and Rembrandt nods.]

LVK: Chris Courtade is bloody, he's beaten down, and he's now fully at the mercy of two of 
the most sick and twisted individuals in RCW!

RP: Juan looks more pissed than I've seen him in a long, long time. It's like that Iron Claw
did something to his brain!

[Dragging Courtade up again, Vasquez wraps the bullrope around his neck twice, and ties it
off. The fans start to go beserk in protest at the sight of this, and their disapproval gets
louder and louder as Vasquez and Rembrandt each grab an end of the rope, and then whip
Courtade at the ropes, sending him up and over the top rope!]

LVK: NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

[Courtade falls to the floor, but he isn't able to hit the floor completely, as the rope
around his neck stops him short. Vasquez and Rembrandt pull back on each of their ends of
the rope, and within seconds Courtade's feet lift off the concrete floor, but not high 
enough to let the apron be of any help to the Texan! HUGE MOTHERF**KING PROTEST POP!!!]

RP: OH MAN!! THEY'RE HANGING HIM!!! THEY'RE HANGING CHRIS COURTADE!!!

LVK: THIS IS ABSOLUTELY SICKENING!! THEY'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!!!

[The crowd's disapproval reaches an all-time high as Courtade struggles, holding onto the
rope to try and stop it from constricting around his neck, as his legs flail about in panic.
His bloody face contorting with the effort of breathing, Courtade's legs suddenly go stiff,
and then his whole body goes limp!]

LVK: Oh....OH....MY.....GOD.

RP: Holy crap - this is too much even for me!

[Suddenly half a dozen referees and other staff rush from the back and climb into the ring.
Rembrandt and Vasquez refuse to let go, but the officials finally manage to break it up. 
Smiling sadistically, Vasquez and Rembrandt let Courtade's limp body fall to the concrete,
and back away from the officials, before having a mini-celebration between them. A couple 
of the officials slide from the ring to check on Courtade, with *very* concerned looks on 
their faces.]

LVK: I have to say, this is one of the most disgusting acts of violence I have ever seen in
a wrestling ring.

[A crew of EMTs rush down to ringside, and lay out a stretcher, before beginning to work on
Courtade. The camera cuts away to Larry and Rick.]

LVK: Juan Vasquez and Rembrandt have just made it to the top of my list of all-time sick and
twisted sons of bitches. 

RP: They did their boss a big favor, because there's no way Courtade's gonna be able to 
wrestle for Fletcher's team in the Wargames now!

LVK: Who cares about that? I'm more concerned about the health of Chris Courtade!

[Cut to the backstage area of the Mid-South Coliseum, to an empty locker 
room, actually. The door swings open, and in walks Jason Sick. Walks 
might not be the right term to use, actually. He's stooped over and 
rolling in a keg. Joe Gonzo follows him, carrying three coolers, one in 
each hand and one under his left armpit. Sick's hair is dyed a deep blue 
this week, and Gonzo's wearing his favorite Rob Ray Buffalo Sabres game 
jersey. Sick has brought out his very finest "Snapcase" shirt for the 
occasion.]

Jason Sick: *bleep*, man, I thought you said we were gonna have a match 
this week!

Joe Gonzo: Well... I *bleep*ed up. Blow me.

[Gonzo drops the coolers, then goes and gets two plastic chairs on moves 
them back to where Jay is setting up the keg. Then, he rolls a TV monitor 
over and turns it on.]

JS: Where's the tap, bro?

[Gonzo opens up one of the coolers, looks into it, then closes it. Then he 
opens another one, reaches into the ice, and pulls out a tap and throws it 
to Jay.]

JS: Thanks. Well, at least we'll have a good time, anyways. Didn't even 
have to pay for tickets. Although, if you would've let me bring those two 
hotties...

JG: Those two junior-high school jailbaits, ya mean..

JS: Whatever. Anyhow, it woulda been more fun. Least we have a keg of 
Bud, though.

[Jay stabs the tap into the top of the keg, then twists it on. Then, he 
starts furiously pumping the tap.]

JS: You _did_ remember to bring cups man, didn't ya? And just what the 
*bleep* is in all those coolers, anyhow?

[Gonzo rifles through the coolers, pulling out a sleeve of cups and 
throwing them at Jay. Jay quickly opens the sleeve, grabs a cup, and starts 
bleeding the foam out of the keg.]

JG: Lessee.... some Jag, some Goldschlager, a little Rumpleminze...

JS: So we can make Dead Nazis! Rock!

JG: Some cheap vodka.... El Chico... couple of bottles of mix.... some 
stuff I pulled outta the discount bin at that liquor store... Oh, and a few 
bottles of Blue.

[Jay ponders this for a second.]

JS: Yeah, that should hold us for tonight. You wanna Bud?

JG: Sure.

[Jay pours Gonzo a Bud from the tap on the keg, and Gonzo starts gulping at 
it. Jay, meanwhile, puts the tap directly into his mouth and starts 
pouring, and pours for a good 10 seconds before letting go. Gonzo stares 
at him in a bit of amazement.]

JG: Freak.

JS: Look who's talking. Now let's get some of that El Chico over here, aight?

[Gonzo opens one of the coolers and searches for it as we fade.]

[Cut to Fletch's office ... FACE POP! ... where Dan Kauffman sits across the desk from 
Fletch. Seems we've interrupted on a conversation ...]

DK: I know, I know ... You're not happy about Glory. Fine. But all you have to do is come 
up to me _in private_ and tell me. But instead, you weren't going to tell me at all, were
you? Truth is, you were happy as can be that _I_ was your company's champion, and only 
when Miss Cherry pointed out Extreme's foot under the ropes, did you realize you had to 
say something. Then you turn 180 degrees and act like you're pissed off, when you and I 
_both_ know you were thrilled to see Case and I as the last two men fighting in that ring.
Just admit it, that's what you've wanted. That's what you've waited for. Case ... and _me_.

CF: Of course that's what I want. Case and Kauffman for the biggest prize in my company? 
Who wouldn't? But that's _not_ what was scheduled. I can arrange these things ...

DK: But now you don't have to. Because now, you've got your little tournament. And I 
_promise_ you, in the end, you'll have the match you want. And so will I.

[And with that the door flies open and to a powerful mixed pop strides in Luke Kinsey, 
ruefully grinning at both men.]

LK: Oh, I'm sorry, was I interrupting anything interesting? Wait, what was I thinking ... 
it's Father Time and Fletcher Fletcher the Child Molestor. 'Course it ain't interesting. 

[The other two seem less than thrilled to see Kinsey, who could most likely care less as he
sits on Fletch's desk, sweeping off the gold name plate in one motion.]

LK: So, Fletchmeister, rumor has it there's a War Games type match going on tonight. Dan, is
this true?

DK: That's true ... except the Father Time line.

LK: Right, right, yap yap yap. But let's be honest here Fletch, so far your lineup is a bit
underwhelming. Between Kauffman and Wyatt Earp-lite ... you have no shot. Your team needs a
star, someone to make this match distinctly not suck, so I'm gonna very graciously accept your
offer to join your team.

CF: I didn't ev-

[Kinsey keeps talking, cutting Fletcher off.]

LK: But just because I'm the captain of Team Furretcha doesn't mean I have to be all buddy
buddy with the other guys. You may have figured out that I don't particularly like Dan-o here,
and anyone who came from the same tunnel of love as Ken Curtis is no friend of mine. But just
this once Fletch, for one night only ... I'll put up with 'em.

[Luke leans over and lightly slaps Fletch on the cheek, obnoxiously smiling at him.] 
LK: Just for you ... boss.

[Kauffman laughs.]

DK: You'll put up with _me_? ... That's the funniest thing I've heard in a long time, Luke.
Keep it up, and you may have a second career. You know, between you and Wyatt-Earp-lite, I've
had a rather enjoyable night.

[With that, Kauffman vacates, leaving Kinsey and Fletch alone.]

LK: Can you believe that horse's ass, he doesn't even have the common courtesy to wait till
I leave the room to steal my lines. What an ass[bleep]. 

[Suddenly, Fletch leans across his desk, coming almost nose to nose with Kinsey.]

CF: You wanna know something Luke? I'm happy to have you on my team, but that doesn't mean 
I like you. And I sure as hell don't *trust* you.

LK: Well, if I don't hold up to your standards of virtue and righteousness, as exhibited by
Reverend Kauffman...well ain't that just a shame?

But like I said Fletchster, you can trust...if only for one night

CF: That remains to be seen. There isn't a damn thing in the world that could make me trust
you for even a split second, but I'll tell ya this. If you do anything to screw this up 
tonight...

[Kinsey stops Fletch in mid word, looking more than a bit agitated.]

LK: I've busted my ass for you Fletcher. I'm one of the originals and you still can't trust 
me? Fine, then f[bleep] you. But when I win War Games for your team, maybe you'll smarten up,
just a little bit.

[Both men are nearly nose-to-nose now, more than a bit pissed at each other.]

CF: You help me win the War Games match....maybe that'll prove something. But I'm watching 
you closely Kinsey. 

[And with that, Fletcher plops back down into his seat and begins looking through some 
papers.]

LK: Not too close, your wife may get jealous.

[And with a cackle Kinsey walks out the door, slamming it behind him. The door swings open
again, and a middle-aged man in a staff shirt pokes his head in.]

Staff guy: Boss, you need to come real quick. Vasquez and Rembrandt did a real number on 
Chris Courtade. He's still unconscious - I don't think he's gonna be able to wrestle again
tonight!

[Fletcher rolls his eyes and then shakes his head in disbelief.]

CF: Just what I need! Goddamn it!

[He walks out, slamming the door. Fade back to ringside.]

[As the crowd is milling about, we hear some appropriately old school music 
as "Born In The USA" by Bruce Springsteen brings the sound system to life. 
The crowd doesn't really seem to care all that much as The American Idols, 
"All American" Jacob Owens and "Top Notch" Zach Young make their way out from 
behind the curtains. They don't stop to soak in the spotlight, they don't 
look around at the crowd with condescending smirks and they don't take their 
time like they usually do, they make a beeline right for the ring...]

LVK: Well we weren't expecting to see these guys tonight...

RP: Look at 'em, they look pissed! The last time we saw these guys looking 
like this it was right after they lost the RCW tag titles! Haha!

LVK: They certainly seem to be all business right now.

[Getting to the ring, the Idols slide the duffel bags they were both carrying 
into the ring and than climb into the ring. Jacob walks over to the corner 
where David Stokes hands him a microphone. Although the fans don't seem to 
care either way that the Idols are back on Impact, they seem to quiet down to 
let Jacob speak as he steps to the middle of the ring. Jacob begins to speak 
almost as if he was in mid-sentence...]

"AA" JO: At times we were called the best tag-team in the world. We were 
called two of the best this sport had ever seen. The dirt sheets raved about 
our ability, calling us the next best thing, and the fans...well...the fans 
loved us sometimes and hated us most of the time...but they always respected 
us. 

[Zach is handed a second microphone by Stokes and he speaks in a cold, 
emotionless voice...]

"TN" ZY: We had all we ever could want in RCW. The respect of millions, a 
better than most paycheque, some of the best damn talent in the business 
sharin' locker rooms with us, but there was one thing that was always 
missing, and than our chance for what we were missing came, but it wasn't in 
RCW and you know what happens when opportunity comes a-knockin'...

[Jacob walks over to the ropes picks up the duffel bags and hands one to Zach 
as he begins to speak again...]

"AA" JO: We put everything we had in RCW at stake to go after this 
opportunity, to get that one thing that was missing in our careers...

[...both men reach into the duffel bags and extract the contents...two title 
belts. The crowd immediately begins to buzz, and some of the "smart" fans 
immediately begin to boo as they know what those belts are and what they 
represent...]

"TN" ZY: We put our careers and our livelihoods at stake to go after these...

[Zach lifts the title belt he is holding and the camera begins to pan-in for 
a close-up of the gold faceplate.]

"AA" JO: These belts cost us dearly in RCW...

[Suddenly, the entire crowd has decided to pay attention and they unleash a 
heel pop of biblical proportions as the camera has now fully framed in on the 
name emblazoned on the goldplate and it's clearly visible on the big screen...

...ELITE WRESTLING ALLIANCE...]

"AA" JO: And of course you now are asking...Jacob, Zach...was it worth it? 
Were these belts worth sacrificing your RCW careers? Were these belts worth 
giving up your hunt for the RCW tag team titles? Were they worth all your 
work in RCW going down the crapper? Were they worth losing all that respect 
for?

[The camera pans back out. Jacob looks down at the EWA tag team title he is 
holding with a look of absolute hatred and disgust...]

"AA" JO: Well you know what?

[Jacob looks out at the crowd with the same look and venomously spews out the 
words...]

"AA" JO: You better _BELIEVE_ THEY WERE WORTH IT!! 

*HOLY-CRAP-DID-HE-JUST-SAY-THAT POP PLUS A LIL' MO' OF DAT BIBLICAL HEEL 
HEAT!*

[Jacob stares at the crowd with hate-filled eyes, as Zach decides to give us 
the explanation the entire world is interested in hearing...]

"TN" ZY: For months, we gave to RCW. We gave our blood, our sweat and our 
tears. We fought through injuries because the tag division wasn't strong 
enough for us to take a few days off from TV. We took it on the chin when 
Fletcher wanted us to win the titles from two GOD _DAMN_ WORTHLESS _F**KS_ 
and still didn't complain when we ended up winning them from Flip Peterson 
and the Bouncer, instead. We made sure that NOBODY could dog the RCW tag 
division because even when we were down to 3 teams, down to _NOTHING_, we 
were still putting on classic matchs, week in and week out, with whoever they 
put us in the ring with. We've carried the tag division on our damn _BACKS_ 
for as long as we've been here...tag teams have came and went, but the 
American Idols have and always will be in RCW...

[Jacob is seething with anger...]

"AA" JO: And what did we get in return for it? WHAT DID WE HAVE TO SHOW FOR 
IT?!? A title reign that is a god damn running joke in the locker room? 
Bodies that still hurt from the Tablejack match we put on with Brutal Youth? 
No...we got to take a backseat as RCW brought in a bunch of teams and tried 
to make them as good as we were, are and always will be. We got to teach 
these _kids_ how to wrestle and watch as they got our spot in the big money 
matchs...

...you want to talk about losing respect? We never had any to begin with...

[Jacob looks down at the title belt, this time smiling a bit...]

"AA" JO: But now we have something to show for all that hard-work...we have 
something to show for all the un-rewarded loyalness, dedication and devotion 
to RCW we showed for so many months. Now we have these title belts that 
actually mean something...unlike the RCW pieces of leather...

[If there is one thing the RCW crowd doesn't like, it's dis-respecting RCW, 
as they unleash yet another hellish heel pop...]

"TN" ZY: It's appropriate that we are here at River City Wrestling's Tribute 
to Old School, because we _ARE_ River City Wrestling's Old School. We were 
part of the indy, high-school gymnasium River City Wrestling that built 
itself into a national, multi-million, stadium sell-out company. We were part 
of the roster when Fletch couldn't afford names like Courtade, Langseth, 
Kauffman and Case. We aren't here for a "stint", we aren't here on a 
short-term deal. We don't augment our careers with River City Wrestling for 
another extra source of income, our careers _ARE_ River City Wrestling. 

[Jacob holds the EWA tag belt up...]

"AA" JO: The American Idols have always been the RCW tag team champions, from 
day one we proved we are the best, and now we simply have the belts to prove 
it, because these belts are the rewards for everything we've done for RCW and 
for Clint Fletcher. These represent all the hell, all the pain and all the 
_BULL*bleep*_ that we've gone through with smiles on our face. RCW doesn't 
think we are worthy of it's tag titles? Well River City Wrestling can go 
STRAIGHT TO _HELL_!!

[Insane heel heat!]

"TN" ZY: From this point on...these _ARE_ the RCW tag team titles...

[The American Idols holds the EWA tag straps high above their heads and if 
you think you've heard a crowd boo before now, your idea of heel heat has 
just been changed because the Mid-South Coliseum is letting off a sense of 
hatred that can be only described as sounding like each person in the 
building wants to murder the two men in the ring right now.]

RP: Ewwwww, a Hopper led promotion.

LVK: These two guys have disgraced RCW on a very special night for this 
promotion! They should be ashamed of-

[And to a thunderous mixed pop, Luke Kinsey walks out from the back, sans 
music. He's dressed in full length red tights with the regular elbow pad on 
the right arm, wrists taped. His hair is back to it's original color of 
brown. Armed with a microphone, Kinsey stops at the foot of the ring and 
speaks up to the Idols.]

LK: Perhaps...I heard wrong. Maybe I was mistaken...but did you just say that 
the EWA tag titles meant more than RCW's? Are you aware those things are made 
of chocolate, in case Hopper got brave and decided to eat something else for 
a midnight snack instead of his usual pack of goats? Go ahead, take a bite, 
100% milk chocolate I guarantee.

[Kinsey points to Young and his "title belt".]

LK: Yours has almonds.

[Nod.]

LK: And while you're figuring that out, think about this. I've been here 
nearly as long as you have. RCW is _my_ promotion, I built this just as much 
as you have. So by bringing those twenty pound Hershey Bars in here, you've 
proved two things. First of all...

[Holds up one finger.]

LK: ...if you should ever leave wrestling, you both have second careers as 
thieves. Stealing those belts from Casa Da Hopper, none to us laymen as the 
Burger King on fifth Street, was probably the most skilled thing you've ever 
done. I've seen your matches boys and there ain't no skill in them, rest 
assured. And two...

[Luke holds up a second finger.]

LK: ...you've insulted the two men who have legit claims to being _The Man_ 
in RCW by carrying around those oversized Mars Bars. The other guy is....


V/O: ...me.


[Suddenly a clumsly, splashed, giant X fills the big screen...]

["Relax" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood blares from the arena speakers as "Mr. 
Excitement Alex Extreme walks through the entranceway to loud cheers. The 
spotlight, which alternates between pink, purple, and blue, illuminate the 
walkway as Alex heads down to ringside with mic in hand standing next to 
Kinsey.] 

AE: Boys, boys, boys--you know Hopper got those belts? He ate 293 boxes of 
Frosted C*bleep*shot Flakes!

[The crowd pops while Extreme smirks.]

AE: Hell Hopper so fat...

Crowd: HOW FAT IS HE???

AE: He's so fat, he thought those damn belts were rings for his fingers!

[The crowd cheers as neither member of the Idols look remotely amused.]

AE: Boys, since y'all are former RCW champions and obviously more delusional 
than Jim Lewis' Mom on a Saturday at the bingo parlor, I'm gonna cut you a 
break. Luke and I are gonna you three seconds to get your Hopper kissing 
asses out of Mid South Coliseum or we send those chocolate belts right up the 
Hershey Highway! 

[Beat.] 

AE: One... 

[The Idols look at each other and shake their heads. Extreme raises his eyebrows...] 

AE: Two... 

[Now Jacob and Zach are getting a little worried...] 

AE: Three... 

[Extreme and Kinsey look at each other, shrug their shoulders and...] 

*CROWD POP!* 

LVK: HERE THEY COME!!! 

[...rush the ring.] 

RP: The American Idols don't seem to want to stick around for coffee...but they have nowhere to
go!!! 

LVK: Extreme and Kinsey are closing in... 

[The Idols look frantically for an escape route, but the old Memphis Coliseum wasn't built with
a whole lot of aisles and the ringside area is PACKED with fans. Finally the Idols look up 
above the ring...] 

LVK: Wait a minute...Owens and Young are eyeing that scaff-OH BOY!!! 

RP: They ain't just eyeing it anymore...they're _climbing_ it! 

[The crowd begins to go nuts as the Idols split up and each of them begins to climb up a side
of the scaffold. Extreme and Kinsey don't miss a beat as they remain in hot pursuit, Extreme
climbing up behind Owens and Kinsey tailing Young.] 

LVK: It looks like we are about to have ourselves an impromptu SCAFFOLD MATCH!!! 



 __    ___ __      ______________________________________________________________
| _ \ /  _\\ \    / /
| U < | |_  \ \/\/ /                     Scaffold match
|_|\_\\___/  \_/\_/
              \                          American Idols
  Written by   \                              vs
     Dan        \                  Luke Kinsey and Alex Extreme
                 \_______________________________________________________________



[The two teams don't even bother waiting for the opening
bell ... Kinsey pairs off with Young to the left, Extreme
with Owens on the right, and the fists fly fast and furious
as the crowd POPS for the opening!]

LVK: You can forget about ANY kind of staredown here!
They're tearing into one another!

RP: The staredown happened backstage. If you think some
punk tag team us going to bring EWA Tag Titles in here and
Kinsey and Extreme are just gonna accept it, you're on the
good stuff.

[A particularly solid right by Extreme ...]




{______________ THUD! _____________}




[... sends Owens crashing to the scaffold, and the entire
structure shakes and creaks as if the whole thing could
crash at any second. Owens' right arm and shoulder hang off
the side, drawing a pop from the crowd, but he's not
falling. Extreme puts the boots to him.]

LVK: That scaffold ... did you hear that thing?

RP: This kind of match may be Old School, Larry ... but
it's anything _but_ safe!



{______________ THUD! _____________}



LVK: Young with a dropkick to Kinsey! Is he NUTS?!

[Seeing Owens in trouble, Young walks over and, with
Extreme's attention on Owens, Young wraps his arm around
Extreme's head ...]




{______________ THUD! _____________}

[POP!]




LVK: REVERSE DDT ON THE SCAFFOLD!

RP: Look at it sway! You're telling me those four men up
there are not thinking about their safety?!

LVK: I didn't say anything ... and I'm sure they are.

[Young gets on top of Extreme and starts throwing fists
into Extreme's head as Owens comes to his senses. Kinsey
gets up, and he drags Young off of Extreme, throwing fists
into Young's head. Young starts retaliating, when Kinsey
goes low and lifts the Idol member up ...]



Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOHHHHH!

{______________ THUD! _____________}

[LOUDER POP!]

LVK: Reverse atomic drop, into a spinebuster!





{______________ THUD! _____________}




[LOUDER POP STILL!]

RP: OWENS!

LVK: A LEAPING CLOTHESLINE OVER YOUNG'S DOWNED BODY, AND IT
FLOORED KINSEY!

RP: Well, "floored" probably isn't a good word to use
considering the "floor" is a good 20 feet down ...

LVK: Both Kinsey and Owens landed perilously close to the
edge there, but both men able to roll back toward the
center of that narrow wooden plank.

[Extreme is back to his feet, and he drags Young up ... at
least as far as he can, until ...]



Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!



[... Young low-blows him with his left arm.]

RP: That will take the starch out of you.

[Getting to his feet, Young wraps an arm around Extreme's
head for the second time in the match ...]




{______________ THUD! _____________}

[LOUD POP!]



LVK: DDT! Extreme's head has been spiked into that wooden
scaffold _twice_!

RP: My opinion is, that's the worng place to attack him.
There's not much there to hurt.

[Owens and Kinsey both start rising to their feet, Owens a
little sooner, which allows him to take a few free swings
at Kinsey. Kinsey answers with a boot to the gut, and then
grabs an arm ...]

LVK: Kinsey's trying to irish whip Owens off the scaffold!

[POP! ... But Owens pirouettes under the armlock, turning
inward, and sinks Kinsey into a front waistlock.]

RP: What in the world?

LVK: Owens ... is he trying to belly-to-belly suplex Kinsey
off the friggin' scaffold?!

[A couple quick Kinsey kneefifts prevents that from
happening, and a couple fists to the head of Owens breaks
the hold altogether.]

LVK: Young is up, and Kinsey doesn't see him!

[Young sends a forearm shot deep into Kinsey's lower back,
stunning him. Owens then places Kinsey's head between his
legs, and the crowd starts to buzz.]

LVK: Oh my God ... they wouldn't!






{____________________ THUD! ___________________}

[HUGE POP!]

RP: They sure would!

LVK: SPIKE PILEDRIVER! KINSEY WAS JUST BRAINED ON THE
SCAFFOLD! HE WAS DRIVEN LIKE A NAIL INTO THE WOOD!

RP: From behind ... EXTREME!

[Recovered from the DDT, Extreme runs into Young with a
clothesline from behind. Instead of falling facefirst,
Young stumbles forward over Kinsey's body and collides with
Owens, who is sent awkwardly backward ...]

LVK: HOLY ENCHALADAS!

[... and Owens' left leg tries to plant on nothing but air!
Owens' body starts plummeting down ...]

[SHOCKED POP!]

RP: He caught himself!

LVK: Somehow, Owens' other leg stayed up on the scaffold,
and he's using his arms to pull the rest of his body up!




{______________ THUD! _____________}

[POP!]

LVK: Extreme with a side suplex on Young ... AND HE'S
STARING RIGHT AT OWENS, WHO HASN'T PULLED HIMSELF UP YET!
Extreme ... oh, what a sick grin!

RP: Look at the look on Owen's face! He's shaking his head
no! Extreme's nodding back yes!

LVK: No! Yes! No! Yes! ...

[HUGE POP!]

LVK: YEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

[Extreme starts punching the still somewhat dangling Owens
right in the head with punches ... and Owens' right leg,
until then still up on the scaffold, slides off!]

RP: Owens is holding on by two hands now ...

[HUGE POP!]

LVK: WRONG! HE'S HOLDING ON BY ONE!





{______________ THUD! _____________}

RP: SPEAR! SPEAR! SPEAR!

[POP!]

LVK: ZACH YOUNG JUST SAVED HIS PARTNER, AND HE DROVE
EXTREME INTO THE SCAFFOLD!

RP: Finally, Owens is able to pull himself back onto the
scaffold! Look at the sweat running off his forehead!

LVK: He's lying on his back, breathing deeply, thanking his
lucky stars he didn't take the 20-foot plunge to
almost-certain injury!

RP: And he's right next to Luke Kinsey, who is just now
starting to move after that vicious spike piledriver.

[Young straddles Extreme and launches right hands into his
head as those two square off for about the millionth time
in this match.]

LVK: Extreme, for his part, has got to be sick and tired of
the gnat that is Zach Young.

[Young pulls Extreme to his feet ...]



{___________ SMMMMMMMMMACK! __________}

Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

{___________ SMMMMMMMMMACK! __________}

Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

[... and unloads two knifeedge chops to Extreme's chest,
which Extreme counters with a right hand ... and another
... to the head of Young. Young starts throwing his own
punches, and gains the advantage, until he has his punching
arm held. Young whirls around, surprised ...]





{_________________ THUD! ________________}

[HUGE POP!]

LVK: DIAMOND CUTTER! LUKE KINSEY'S BACK IN THE MATCH!

[Kinsey starts to pull Young up, and Extreme looks at
Kinsey and mouths something. Kinsey nods, and Extreme grabs
Young ... and places his head between his legs. RECOGNITION
POP!]

RP: Uh oh!

LVK: I think Kinsey wants retribution! 

[The crowd buzzes again as Extreme hoists Young up ... all
the way to Extreme's shoulders!]

LVK: HOLY GUACAMOLE! THEY'RE GOING FOR A SPIKE POWERBOMB ON
THE SCAFFOLD!

[But just as Larry wigs out, Owens comes up behind Kinsey,
who is catching absolutely no breaks in this match, and
Owens wraps his arms around Kinsey's midsection ...]




{_________________ THUD! ________________}

[HUGE POP!]

RP: GOOD LORD!

LVK: KINSEY JUST GOT GERMAN SUPLEXED ON THE SCAFFOLD!

[Extreme, left without a partner to spike-powerbomb Young
with, raises an eyebrow ... and then turns sideways with
Young ... as if ... you got it. The crowd, seeing this,
marks out HUGE!]

LVK: My God ... he wouldn't, would he?

[Young, panic-stricken, flails his arms forward and starts
gaining a little momentum, with which he starts climbing
down the back of Extreme!]

RP: Young is doing everything he can to-





{_________________ THUD! ________________}

{__ crack __}

RP: OH MY GOD!

[INCREDIBLE POP!]

LVK: BACKDROP DRIVER! And I think the scaffold itself
started to break! The crack could be heard through the
arena!

RP: This is really unsafe now!

[Owens comes over, and he and Extreme start exchanging
punches. Owens gains an advantage, and with each punch,
Extreme draws a little closer to the edge. Owens rears back
for a praticularly huge haymaker ...]

LVK: If this lands ...

[But it doesn't. Extreme blocks, and now _he_ starts
sending hard rights into Owens' skull backing him closer
and closer to the other edge as the crowd starts to chant
...]


ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB!
ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB!
ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB!

ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB!
ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB!
ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB!


[In desperation, Owens goes low and grabs a single leg on
Extreme, who hops around. An enziguiri too risky with the
narrow landing area, Extreme keeps trying to throw punches,
until Owens takes Extreme off his feet by sweeping out the
other leg ...]

RP: Extreme's head and shoulders are _dangling_ off the
scaffold!

[Kinsey comes to the rescue, getting up after the German
Suplex and taking down Owens. The two of them exchange
punches on the scaffold, while Extreme barely has time to
shift his weight so he's not hanging over the edge before
Young, still recovering from the Backdrop Driver, starts
dueling with Extreme! The crowd pops as the match
disintegrates!]

LVK: We've got an all-out brawl on the scaffold!

[Young, getting the up position, bashes Extreme's head back
into the scaffold with almost everything he has left. Six
feet away, Kinsey has taken the upper hand on Owens. Young,
seeing his partner in trouble, comes over to help out ...
But Kinsey spins around and starts nailing Young!]

RP: Kinsey is on _fire_!




{__________________ THUD! _________________}



[A HUGE haymaker sends Young flying down onto the scaffold,
and Kinsey raises his arms just for a moment as the crowd
POPS! The next instant, Kinsey turns back around ...]

[SHOCKED POP!]

RP: POWDER! POWDER!

LVK: What the hell?!? ... Owens just got up and threw some
sort of powder in Kinsey's eyes!

[HEEL POP!]

RP: Kinsey is blindlessly flailing around!

[Owens gets a little too close, and one of Kinsey's blind
flails catches him right in the jaw ...]




{__________________ THUD! _________________}



[... sending Owens back down. Kinsey continues to flail
around, and the next person he nails isn't such a good
thing ...]

LVK: KINSEY JUST NAILED EXTREME!

RP: OH MY GOD!

[LOUD SHOCKED POP!]

LVK: EXTREME JUST FELL OFF THE SCAFFOLD!




[...]









[...]





RP: BUT HE DIDN'T FALL!

LVK: HE CAUGHT HIMSELF ON THE UNDERSIDE OF THE SCAFFOLD!
ALEX EXTREME MAY HAVE JUST SAVED HIMSELF FROM SERIOUS
INJURY!

RP: What the hell is Young doing?

[INCREDIBLE POP!]

LVK: HE'S CLIMBING DOWN! HE'S GOING AFTER EXTREME!


ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB!
ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB!
ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB!

ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB!
ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB!
ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB! ARGH-SEE-DUB!


[Young climbs down so that he is right next to Extreme, and
starts hitting Extreme with punches! Extreme fires back
with his own, as the two fight underneath the scaffold!]

LVK: What an unbelievable scene here! Alex Extreme and Zach
Young are dangling 15 feet above the ring, trying to fight
off one another while avoiding certain disaster!

RP: What the hell is Young ... oh my God ...

[INCREDIBLE POP!]

LVK: YOUNG IS LITERALLY CLIMBING _ONTO_ EXTREME!

[Young starts pulling down with all his weight on the body
of Extreme, who manages to hang on even then for five ...
then 10 ... then 15 seconds.]

LVK: The strength of Extreme is unreal!

[But the body can't do such things forever, and eventually,
Extreme's grip gives way. Flashbulbs go off from all over
as the bodies of Extreme and Young plummet 15 feet ...]






















{____________________ THUD!!! ___________________}
















HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!




LVK: ALEX EXTREME AND ZACH YOUNG LAND IN A PILE ON THE
CANVAS! MY GOD, NEITHER ONE IS MOVING!

RP: Owens and Kinsey are still up top!

[Kinsey, still blinded and still flailing, is being
peppered by left jabs from Owens, who is almost taunting
Kinsey by drating in and out.]

LVK: This match is Owens' to win. He could just send Kinsey
over the side, and it would be over.

RP: No, Larry. The Idols want to prove a point, remember?
They're the best tag team in the world, and that's what
this is about.

[Finally done playing around, Owens backs up a few steps,
ready for the kill. He rushes Kinsey ...]






{__________________ WHHHACK! _________________}






[INCREDIBLE POP!]

LVK: THE BIG BANG! KINSEY'S NOT BLINDED ANYMORE! HE SET
OWENS UP! AND OWENS IS RIGHT ON THE EDGE!











{__________________ WHHHACK! _________________}








[LUNATIC POP ... THEN SHOCKED POP!]

LVK: ANOTHER BIG BANG! ...
































{____________________ THUD!!! ___________________}















HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!




LVK: AND THANKFULLY, THIS MATCH IS OVER!

MA: The winners of the scaffold tag match ... ALEX EXTREME
AND LUKE KINSEY!

LVK: Luke Kinsey has won this match, for himself and Alex
Extreme, and all four men paid a heavy, heavy price
tonight. Man, what a scaffold match that was!

RP: Young and Extreme are just starting to move, and Owens
is out. Owens flew through the air and landed right on his
back. He must have _bounced_ a good two feet.

LVK: Alex Extreme back to his feet now.

[Kinsey motions Extreme to come back up on the scaffold to
celebrate, and Extreme walks over to the ladder. FACE POP
as Extreme climbs up to the top, and Kinsey goes to raise
his hand ...

Extreme pulls his arm away.]

LVK: Uh-oh.

RP: Remember, Larry ... Kinsey was the one who caused
Extreme to fall off the scaffold in the first place!

LVK: That was an accident. Kinsey had just been blinded by
the Idols!

RP: You get up there and tell Extreme that.

[Kinsey talks to Extreme, explaining things to a pissed-off
Extreme. Extreme shakes his head ... but cooler heads
prevail, and this time, Kinsey and Extreme raise their arms
up high. HUGE FACE POP! ...]







{______________ THUD! _____________}








[... which turns into a LOUD HEEL POP!]

LVK: EXTREME DEATH DROP!

RP: I told you, Larry!

LVK: EXTREME JUST KOED KINSEY!

[And Extreme isn't done. He drags the semi-conscious Kinsey
up, and then literally flings him over the side ...]








{____________________ THUD!!! ___________________}









LVK: EXTREME THREW KINSEY OFF THE SCAFFOLD!

[MEGA HEEL POP!]

RP: It's merely evening things! Extreme got to feel what it
was like, and now Luke Kinsey knows himself!

LVK: All four men have fallen from the scaffold to the ring
here tonight, but it's Alex Extreme celebrating on top of
the scaffold. There was absolutely _no_ reason for Extreme
to do what he did, and this is far from over with Luke Kinsey.

[As Extreme climbs down, and Kinsey is helped to the back, the camera cuts to Larry and Rick 
at ringside.]

LVK: Wow, what a night this has been already, huh Rick?

RP: It's been special Van Keel. And the best is still to come!

["Would?" by Alice in Chains strums over the loudspeakers as the fans pop HUGE!!]

RP: Uh-oh.. things are about to pick up! Vegas-style!

LVK: You could say that again.

[After a few seconds Case emerges from the sea of fans that comprise the make-shift aisleway, 
a handful of police officers clearing the way for him. He has a glare in his eyes.. part anger,
part paranoia it seems. He's wears blue jeans and his black "Rated Greatest" t-shirt. He 
slides in under the bottom rope of the nearest ring, quickly pulling a microphone from his
pocket as he
eyes the crowd while standing in the center of the ring.]

[LVK]: Maybe we shall find out what happened last Impact.

[RP]: He was screwed by Fletcher.

DC: Everybody wants to know.. what was wrong with good ole Dee Cee last week. Everybody wants
to know why I hightailed away from the ring.. why I had a look of shock and disgust.. anger 
and despair.. as I parted those curtains. The reason?

National..

Extreme..

Wrestling.

[Boo!! Case nods with the boos. He paces the ring continuing his rant.]

DC: That's what River City Wrestling is becoming to me. [Boo!] It's simple. Early 2001.. there
I was.. primed for a run at the N.E.W World Heavyweight title.. when Jeremy Baltimore.. one of
the key political players.. pulled a powerplay.. a powerplay identical to that that was pulled
in this ring last week. Baltimore went on to declare their top title.. the World title.. vacant
and to be fought in an eight man single elimination tournament..

[Case smirks.]

DC: Eerie? [Bleep].. I haven't even gotten started yet.

[The crowd murmurs.. attentive for the madman from Vegas.]

DC: I.. Devon Case.. was declared the number one seed.. and wouldn'cha know.. guess who's the
number one seed this time around? 

[Case puts a finger in his chest.]

DC: And that's when things got hairy. Ya see.. one of the fellow promoters.. aside from Jeremy
Baltimore.. had it in for me.. much like Miss [Bleep].. and he was willing to put his job on 
the line to destroy me and my chances at the World title. So Baltimore and this other man put
their efforts and power into the young and brash Madison Jay Valentine.. 

[Case shakes his head.]

DC: And through their backstage bl[bleep]jobs and fistings.. they somehow gathered up enough
resources to cost me my match with Valentine.. a little interference here.. a kick to my 
luggage there.. one.. two.. three. I was _forced_ out of the company I _HELPED [BLEEP]ING 
BUILD!_

[Case's anger has apparently escalated tenfold as he stomps around the ring.]

DC: And the same [bleep] is going on right here! Fletcher wants to put that belt on Dan
[bleep]ing Kauffman.. and he's willing to go along with Miss Cherry and her goons.. and do
whatever he needs to wipe out the man who _MADE THIS {BLEEP}ING COMPANY!_

[Slight boos..]

[LVK]: Man.. he's losing it here.. and he's wrong. He came in right before it became a 
national household name.. but guys like Extreme and Vanguard made this company.

[RP]: Whoa! Let's not go that far.

DC: But this time.. this time I'm ready Fletcher.. Miss Cherry.. Dan Kauffman.. and whoever
the [bleep] else wants to attempt to derail this train. Nobody is gonna stop me from becoming
the first World champion in this company.. do you hear that?!

_NOBODY!_

[Case slams the microphone onto the mat to a big time mixed pop! He slides out of the ring and
walks with mean purpose towards the back.. finally exiting the curtains.]

[The camera fades to the back]

[Fade back up...]

V:	That co[BLEEP]ing, mother f[BLEEP]ing, son of a bitch! I swear to Christ Almighty that
if I ever get my hands around his narrow f[BLEEP]ing neck, I am going to make him f[BLEEP]ing
wish that he was never born.

[By now I am sure you are wondering who such colorful language could belong to, huh? Well no
The Gremlin hasn't miraculously appeared in the rings of River City Wrestling...No in fact the
voice is too familiar to RCW fans to belong to the King of Asswhuppery. No my friends, that 
voice belongs to one pissed off mother f[BLEEP]er...and wouldn't you be, after being tarred and 
feathered in front of a National Television Audience? You got it...That is the voice of "
Excessive Force" Eric Vanguard.]

EV:	Tar ... f[BLEEP]ing feathers ... look at me!

[Suddenly the camera comes spinning around, and rests on the reflection inside a full length
mirror. Staring almost trance-like, but extremely sinisterly is the former prison guard - his
black cargo pants, black "Iron Fist" t-shirt, and even his jet black hair all caked with the
sticky black tar.]

EV: 	I...

[But before another word can leave his lips, another figure becomes visible in the mirror.
Seeing the man standing behind him, Vanguard goes rigid with anger and blinks a few times - 
as if he can not believe his own eyes. Slowly he turns around and stares into the face of that
figure - Madison J. Valentine.]

[As the crowd inside The Mid-South Coliseum pops loudly for the face to face confrontation,
the two men just staring into one another's eyes - trying to burn a hole through one another
with the immeasurable amount of hate between the two individuals.]

EV: 	(Remarkably calm) So do you think it was funny? Did you and Fletch have a good laugh
between yourselves for...this?

[Vanguard puts his arms out, making sure Valentine gets a nice, good, long, hard look at his
handiwork from earlier in the evening.]

EV:	Because you realize that this didn't bring about an end to this situation between you
and me. This wasn't retribution my friend...this was the first shot in a long hard war, that
is going to make you sweat, going to make you bleed, going to make you cry like the little
bitch that _I_ know you are, deep down inside.

[Em Jiggy Vee continues to stare at Vanguard, his face still featuring that cocky smirk.]

EV:	What I did to you last week. When I crushed you between my body, and the steel of a 
stretcher. THAT my friend was nothing...No...it wasn't. This little prank, this little joke,
done for nothing more than a flock of easily lead automatons hurt _ME_ more than anything I 
have done to you yet...And I emphasize the word _yet_.

[Taking his eyes off Madison J. Valentine for just a fraction of a second, Vanguard cracks the
knuckles on both hands. As he returns to eye contact with MJV, he finds Valentine to be looking
past him. Not taking to kindly to it, Vanguard raises his gloved hand and grabs the chin of 
Mad, forcing him to look back into his eyes.]

EV:	(Still calm) Look into my eyes when I am talking to you - because THEY are delivering 
the real message here. They are telling you that I am serious - deadly serious - lethally 
serious, when I tell you that the end of your career is slowly creeping up on you from behind.
Your wise ass attitude, and fan pandering ways are taking their toll on you ... or should I 
say they soon will. (Vanguard nods emphatically) Oh yes...they will.

[And then slowly, menacingly, Vanguard raises his hand and points towards the door of the 
locker room.]

EV:	So do me a favor Mr. Valentine, since you are _such_ good friends with President 
Fletcher. You head over to his office and tell him that despite my emotional defeat here
tonight, that YOU are aching for a physical defeat. You have him do the paperwork. Cross 	
the T's, dot the I's, and put the finishing touches on a match between you and it ... right
here ... tonight in Memp-

[But the words of Vanguard are cut off by the huge THERE'S GONNA BE AN EXPLOSION IN MEMPHIS 
TONIGHT POP~! Hearing the pop himself, Vanguard turns and looks into the lens as if to tell 
the people to shut up, and then back at Valentine.]

EV:	You have him pick the time, you have him name the game, and then you have him call the
county coroner to help identify the body. And me, I'll do the rest. No matter what the cost, 
no matter what the risk...Even if it takes....Excessive...........Force.

[With both men's eyes deadlocked on one another, the scene fades...]

[Fade to commercials.]




[Fade in to the smiling face of Miss Cherry. She's grinning up a storm, obviously happy about 
something. Then the camera pans back to show that she's standing in front of her "troops", who
are all still lounging about in the sofas we saw them in earlier.]

MC: This is too good to be true. Kauffman and Kinsey couldn't hate each other any more if they
tried. Poor old Fletchie is stuck trying to make them work as a team, and Chris Courtade is 
wearing a backless gown in some emergency room somewhere in this hick town [giggle]. Fletch'd
have more luck trying to get Chris Hopper to lose weight than putting together a cohesive team
here tonight.

[Customary Hopper fat joke POP! Vasquez, Stephens and Extreme all share a laugh as well, while
Rembrandt merely smirks. Suddenly the door bursts open as all five whip their heads towards the
doorway. OH MY GOD! It's Hopper, come to sit on them all for being so mean! Okay, so it's not
-it's just Devon Case! Cherry and her troopps all have a look of shock as Case enters the room 
with a face full of hate and anger.. walking right towards the group.. first getting into
Rembrandt's face.. they both stare each other down.]

DC: Wipe that smirk off your face big man.. this ain't Knoxville.. we bury tough guys like you
for breakfast.. learn quickly or get your ass back to Tennessee.

[Rembrandt just glares as Case moves on to Stephens. Stephens smirks rather Stephens-like.]

DC: Got something funny to say?

[Stephens is about to speak..]

DC: No.. don't wanna hear. Don't care.. you may have the look of a man.. but all I've seen from
you is a man actin' like a [bleep]in' bitch. Is that what you are?

[Before Stephens can refute.. Case moves on to Vasquez.. but he simply just flashes the bird to
Vasquez who returns the favor.. before moving on to Extreme.]

DC: How's the neck? Recovering well I hope? You fought well Alex.. but not well enough to beat 
me.. it'll never happen.

[Extreme damn near takes a swing at Case but restrains himself as Case then moves on the Miss 
Cherry who is angry as a sumbitch for Case's disatraction and verbal thrashing of her group. 
But before she can speak.. Case puts a finger to her lips.. the good ole "Hush." gesture.]

DC: And then there was the ringleader. I know what you're thinking.. I do. You think I came in
here to start a fight.. to break the power from within.. to eradicate one of the political 
players scheming to rid me of my company. Rather on the contrary.. I'm here for one reason.

WarGames.. tonight.. I want on your side.

[You can hear the crowd boo as Cherry just smiles ten miles wide.]

DC: You see.. our time will come.. but tonight.. I want Kauffman. And since Fletcher went 
after that two-bit media whore instead of his thoroughbred.. said thoroughbred shall defeat 
his team.. come hell or high water. Tonight.. we shall rule the ring.. tonight.. the WarGames
is ours.

[Case nods as Cherry nods as well.. Case then turning and walking out of the room with purpose.]

[Fade out.]

[Fade back into the ring. Lounge music. And the rough tones of Xzibit.]

V/O: And so it was written, and after all these things,
I saw another angel come down from heaven,
Having great power and the Earth was lighted with his glory
And he cried mightily with the strong voice saying "Babylon the great has fallen,
It's fallen and has become the habitation of devils
And the home to every fowl spirit and a cage of very unclean and hateful men"


#WHAT YOU SEE IS WHAT YOU GET, NOW!!#


[And so begins Sevendust and Xzibit's testosterone-fueled version of 'What U See is What U
Get'. The lights don't dim. There's no spotlight, no pyro - no showmanship at all. Out from the
entranceway slowly and gently steps the newly reformed Eddie McIntyre.]

[Mixed pop!!]

[RP]: Punkhead alert!!

#Xzibit never wait around for kick downs, get my own shit, blowe
#Shot heard around the world
#Uplift, bench press, arm curl, keep the structure of the temple
#To make things simple my existance is to ripple through time
#Only concern is what is mine, divine, never monkey shine
#walkin' down the very thin line, holdin' wait, runnin' crazy in the streets,
#yeah
#Plus the company I keep work in overtime
#while you oversleep don't wanna see none of this evil I speak
#Around on the atlas, cume la matra, the super actress
#You all get close-lined and pinned the mattress
#All day, every day, every which way
#Who said to can't have your take, you need a tune (fuck you)
#This is a hard time on planet earth
#for what it's worth Xzibit stand station without reabilitation like this

[McIntyre, on crutches, slowly makes his way to the ring - stepping on and swinging the
crutches as he goes - making sure not to put too much weight on his broken left ankle. Eddie
looks different. A lot different. Gone are the suits, the messy hair and the stupid-ass girn.
Now, Ed is wearing a simple pair of knee-length khaki combat shorts with a black RCW polo shirt
and a mic in his hand. His hair is no longer messified. It is now cut fairly short with a
slightly spiky fringe - think Brad Pitt from 'Se7en'.]

#Pimps, players, hoes, hustlers, willes thugs, ballers, busters,
#gangstas, macks everyday, all day, shot callers, even high rollers keep it
#moving

[Eddie reaches the ring apron and slides his crutches into the ring while holding on to the
apron and steadying himself. Slowly, and rather painfully, Eddie pulls himself up onto the
apron and rolls into the ring under the bottom rope. All the time, Eddie wears a look of pure
determination and grit - almost as though he has told himself he *has* to do this. Once in the
ring, Eddie pulls himself up using the ring ropes, bringing his cructhes up with him. Once he
is vertical, stable and on his feet, Eddie looks around the audience to a big time mixed pop.
Hearing this, Eddie looks down, embaressed.]

#What you see is what you get now
#The kinda style make the whole world go wow
#Bless the child like a hoe who's on flesh 'n bone
#and no matter where I roam I feel right at home
#And that's the real shit

[Eddie, his face a wash of emotion, lifts the mic to his lips before lowering it again and
shaking his head. Trying again, he raises the mic as the music fades out, leaving a deathly
silence hanging over the arena...]

EM: I... uh... don't _really_ know where to start.

[The camera zooms in a little closer and we can see just what toll Rembrandt has exacted over
Eddie. His normally radiant and charismatic blue eyes are rimmed by red with have dark bags
beneath them from total lack of sleep, while his chin is coarse with stubble. His skin is
slightly pale and, well, he looks rough.]

EM: Coming out here with a mask on made this whole thing a lot easier...

A couple of weeks ago, I could come out here and talk all manner of s[BEELP!]t... and it
wouldn't phase me. This, though, is different. I'm stood here... open and honest... _bearing my
soul_.

And, to be honest... its painful.

If I could... I'd start grinning like an idiot and strutting around like a crippled dog and do
it all again... because it was just so... _easy_.

[Eddie rubs his tired looking eyes.]

EM: But I can't go back to that... I wont let myself...

It had no heart... and certainly no soul.

And, on top of that, I've got a job to do... I've got to battle to regain the respect I lost
from so many quarters - the quys in the back, my friends and, most importantly... the _fans_.

It's a battle I need to win... because, if I don't, I wont be the same again. I'll lie awake at
night, a broken man, with a headful of regrets and heartful of hopes...

[Eddie pauses to take a breath and calm himself down.]

EM: What have I got to do to win this war?

I need to beat the man... the _monster_, who did this--

[Eddie points to his cast laden leg.]

EM: --to me.

[Pause, as Eddie slowly looks over the arena, his brows knitted.]

EM: Rembrandt.

[Eddie looks down to the mat, before looking up and out to the crowd.]

EM: At Caged Rage II... I want my revenge... I want to lay this whole thing
to rest...

I want a rematch against Rembrandt.

[PPV POP!!]

[Eddie looks down again, relieved, after he's just taken a weight off his shoulders and his
mind.]

[LVK]: I DON'T BELIEVE IT!! EDDIE McINTYRE, A BROKEN MAN, IS STANDING UP TO THE MONSTER WHO
BROKE HIS ANKLE!!

[RP]: BROKE HIS ANKLE!! REMBRANDT _DESTROYED_ HIM... AND HE'LL DO IT AGAIN!!

EM: No gimmicks... no stipulations... no interference from Cherry or any of her other
proteges...

_Nothing_ at all. Just him and I stood facing each other in the ring.

All I want a straight rematch against Rembrandt.

I can understand if he ignores me... leaves me on the roadside as he follows his fast-track to
the title... but I hope... I hope he at least gives me a chance to-

[Eddie is interupted by the explosive 'Elite' by The Deftones launching over the PA.]

[LVK]: REMBRANDT!! REMBRANDT IS ANSWERING THE CALL!!

[RP:] Good, I thought this punkhead was never gonna shut his stupid-ass mouth.

[Dressed in the same attire we saw him in earlier tonight, Rembrandt walks down to the ring
with a purpose in mind and microphone in hand. He pauses at the top of the aisle, shaking his
head at Eddie McIntyre, and sliding into the ring. "Elite" cuts off.]

R: Eddie, I defy you to give me a reason why I should even bother with you anymore. I know
you've been pretty busy lately, telling this sob story of yours to anyone who'll listen -- how
your attitude these past few weeks was just an act, how you really wanted to make a name for
yourself by beating me, so I'll take it upon myself to fill you in on everything you've missed.

[Pause.]

R: I have moved on with my life, and, in fact? Tonight? I'll be in the main event while
you're backstage showing off your crutches to however many ringrats you can pull away from
Devon Case. Last week? I earned a shot at becoming the first RCW World Champion.

[Another pause.]

R: So tell me, boy, why should I even bother? You have no _right_ to declare some sort of
vendetta against me, because you got exactly what was coming to you, and unless you're deaf on
top of dumb, you know _exactly_ what's going to happen to you if _I_ grant you a rematch.

[Eddie looks straight at Rembrandt with his bloodshot eyes.]

EM: Like I was saying... I can understand if you want to leave me well alone. You're on the
fast-track to success. Like you said... you're a main-eventer, now.

[Eddie, not taking his weary eyes off Rembrandt, cocks his head to the side.]

EM: But, maybe you _do_ want to.

[Pause.]

EM: I don't you know you _that_ well, Rembrandt... but what I do know about you says you
couldn't resist a rematch against me. You can't leave me like this... not fully broken - job
half-finished.

You want to put an end to me... shut me up for good... end my career.

You _need_ to do it Rembrandt... your ego dictates it.

[Rembrandt spits at McIntyre's feet.]

R: My ego? Boy, what do you know about me and my ego? If you had a brain in that funny looking
head of yours, you'd realize that a victory over a Chris Courtade is more important to me in 
the grand scheme of things than kicking your ass a thousand times. I've already made you my 
bitch, kid -- so how about you start acting like it, you whiny little jagoff, and get the 
f[BLEEP] out of my ring.

[And with that, Rembrandt takes a step back, spins, and unleashes a hard kick at McIntyre --
knocking one of his crutches away from him! Heel pop! McIntyre stumbles, trying to make up for 
the sudden shift in weight, and Rembrandt laughs.]

R: What's the matter, boy? What's the matter? Scared? Gonna cry?

[McIntyre takes a swing at Rembrandt in a meager attempt to defend himself, and the killer 
easily ducks it and fires off a hook kick to the back of McIntyre's head, knocking him flat
on his face! Heel pop!]

[LVK:] He's moving in for the kill!

[Picking up the crutch he knocked out of McIntyre's grasp, Rembrandt stands over him, and 
begins to drive the end of it repeatedly down between McIntyre's shoulders! Heel pop!]

[RP:] The ankle! Get his ankle!

[McIntyre tries to push himself back up to his feet, only to catch another kick to the head,
knocking him back down. Then, Rembrandt goes for the obvious -- the injured ankle. A sick 
smile on his face, the killer stands poised over McIntyre's leg, ready to strike when...



HUGE FACE POP!



... Rosco Riggins slides into the ring behind him!]



[RP:] What the hell?! What's he doing out here?!

[POP! Riggins cinches Rembrandt from behind, much to his surprise!]




[_THUUUUUD!_]




[LVK:] GERMAN SUPLEX! GERMAN SUPLEX BY RIGGINS! HE DROPPED REMBRANDT RIGHT ON THE BACK OF HIS 
HEAD!

[Rembrandt rolls backwards out of the ring, what with discretion being the better part of valor
and all. His face turns beet red when he sees who it was that attacked him, but he still 
doesn't retaliate -- instead making his way back up the aisle, staring down both Riggins and
the recovering McIntyre.]

LVK: I don't know quite why Rosco Riggins came to the aid of Eddie McIntyre, but it's a good
thing he did, because otherwise McIntyre might have been in *real* trouble! God only knows 
what that monster Rembrandt might have done!

RP: Hell, we saw what him and Vasquez did to Chris Courtade earlier in the show. If he's not
scared of Courtade, Rembrandt's not scared of anyone. Riggins better remember that.

LVK: We're going to head backstage now to hear from Mark Langseth!

[Shot cuts to a hall of the Coliseum. Walking up the hall are the quintet known as Team 
Langseth - Langseth, Stephens, Waru, MSG, and even Dew. Langseth leads the way, turning
his head about looking for something.] 

ML: Damnit, where is that rat? I thought you said you saw him around 
    here?

[Mark turns to the group and looks to Dew, who does some hand-signaling.] 

ML: Well, maybe it's for the best. I mean, what am I thinking? Putting
    my career here in RCW on the line? I mean, sure I'll win, but what
    if Whitecross somehow cheats like he does and beats me?

TS: If you're sure you'll win, you'll win. Look, it's the only way to
    get Whitecross out of here without having him cause any long-term
    damage. He's got to be wiped out now and you're the only guy on
    our side that's done it before.

[Langseth smiles at that flattery.]

ML: Yeah, I guess... I guess I need to do this to help your cause,
    like I  said I would. To show that dope Fletcher that no matter
    who he brings in to try to rid me, he'll always fail. I'll go
    right up to that ugly mug of Whitecross...

[Suddenly, the rest of Team Langseth starts backing away with wide
eyes as Mark prattles on.]

ML: Say to him, "You're nothing. I've beaten you before and I can beat
    you  again." Yeah, and then I'll shove him down and ask him - no,
    tell him that he's putting HIS career on the line against mine
    tonight. 

[Dew takes off totally at this point.]

ML: Pfft, the coward that he is, Whitecross probably won't even have
    the guts to accept.

    
    "Oh, is *that* a fact?"

    
[... then ushers forth a deep voice from behind Langseth's left
shoulder, plunging Mark's defiant, somewhat smug expression into
an emphatic grimace of "uh-oh" horror. 

Galvanised into action, Langseth spins on his heels and takes few
faltering steps backwards. In front of him, he now sees what his
counterparts were previously seeing ; the ripped 6'4", 289lb figure of
one Gabriel Whitecross.

The grey-haired and goateed warrior, wearing his usual sleeveless
t-shirt/black denim jeans/white boots ensemble, allows himself the
merest trace of a sadistic grin before continuing to express his
thoughts.]

GW: You of all people should know that I *never* back down from a
    challenge, Mark ... And to speak the truth, the very idea of
    battling against you in a 'Loser Leaves Town' confrontation fills
    me with an enthusiasm that is wholly empowering.

[Within the beating of a startled heart, Gabriel closes the distance
between he and his old nemesis, his fists clenched, ready to war.
However, no blow is delivered, leaving Langseth feeling the icy blast
of Whitecross' breath upon his face.]

GW: For you see, Langseth, I have nothing to lose and everything to
    gain. As far as I am concerned, I came into RCW for one reason ;
    For the opportunity to deliver unto you a decimation that will
    push you onto higher plains of searing agony ... And with the very
    match you have just presented unto me, I have realised the dream I
    was seeking.

[Nose to nose they now stand, with Whitecross still in the ascendancy,
as it regards to the intimidation factor.]

GW: ... And at the end of the day, emerging victorious is neither here
    nor there for me, for you can be duly assured that when the final
    bell does ring, you will be in no condition to leave the arena
    under your own steam.

    Hell, my friend, *is* coming to home ... And now there is not
    *ONE* *DAMN* *THING* you can do about it.

[Slowly, ever so slowly, 'The Era of Defiance' then breaks the spell,
and backs away from the confrontation, intensity oozing from his 
steely stare.]

GW: See you in the ring, victim ...

[With a gulp, Langseth looks on, frozen in his spot and his eyes as 
wide as can be ... And we fade back to the announce table at 
ringside.]

LVK: OH....MY....GOD! Did I hear right? Are Mark Langseth and Gabriel Whitecross going to 
fight in a Loser Leaves Town match tonight?

RP: That's what they said! WOW!

LVK: This night just keeps getting better! Speaking of which, it's time for our next match,
which pits Eric Vanguard against Madison J. Valentine...

RP: Valentine's dead meat for what he did to Vanguard earlier. Dead friggin' meat.

LVK: Vanguard demanded a match, and left it up to Mr Fletcher to choose the match 
stipulations. I can now tell you that Mr Fletcher has ordered for Vanguard and MJV to fight
in a Memphis Rules match.

RP: What's that mean? They have to wrestle in a haybarn?

LVK: No Rick. It means that a disqualification will occur for any piledrivers, any 
off-the-top-rope maneuvers, and for throwing an opponent over the top rope. Let's cross now
to David Stokes!

[Stokesy stands in all his glory, mic in hand.]

DS: The following match is a special Memphis Rules match!

[HOMETOWN POP!]

DS: Introducing first....

# Up in the hot tub, poppin bubb-ly
# Rubbin your spot love, punish me
# But it don't stop, watch the Pun get wicked
# When I stick it even Luke be like "Don't stop, get it get it"

[LOCK THE DOGGY IN THE BARN POP!!! Incubus' version of Big Pun's 'Still Not a Player' brings
the 'bling', rockin' the arena. The fans leap to their feet and start pushing and shoving 
their way to the rail, about to have their world rocked, their roof raised, and their lives
completed by the one... the only...] 

[Em.]

[Jiggy.]

[Vee.]

# I don't wanna be a playa no more
# I'm not a playa I just crush a lot
# But Big Punisher still got what you're lookin for
# Uptown baby, uptown
# I don't wanna be a playa no more
# I'm not a playa I just crush a lot
# But you know Big Pun and Rocks still down by law
# Who's down to crush a lot

[Expensively groomed and snappily outfitted, Em Jig saunters out from behind the curtain and
into the embrace of a MONGOLIAN ALLIGATOR-EATING GIGANTOR POP!! Clad in blue trunks with a 
black-trimmed silver 'V' on the crotch and a black 'TEAM EGO' t-shirt, he spins, grins and
poses... driving the crowd through the roof.]

DS: FROM OTTAWA, ONTARIO, CANADA!! WEIGHING IN AT 219 POUNDS!!

... HE IS EM! JIGGY! VEE!

... MADISON!! JAY!! VALENTINE!!

[Holding an arm across his abdomen, he dances up the ring steps and into the ring with a flash
of *the only* grin worth talking about on planet motherfunkin' earth. Climbing up to the middle
rope, ol' Madison J. pulls the t-shirt over his head - revealing heavily taped ribs - and poses
again to a RAISE THA ROOF POP!!] 

LVK: And there's Madison J. Valentine...taped ribs and all.

RP: Lets hope they're broken ribs before the night is through.

[As a spry looking Madison J. Valentine bounces around the ring in 
anticipation of his opponents arrival, a still fuming “Excessive Force” Eric 
Vanguard pushes his way through the curtain - adjusting the straps on his 
fingerless black gloves.]

LVK: All I can really say is that this man does not look happy!

[His eyes deadlocked on Madison J. Valentine, Vanguard makes his way towards 
the ring with no music, no pyro, no fanfare. The remnants of his humiliation 
earlier in the evening is obvious as his skin is still dotted with the 
sticky remains of the tar, and a few feathers still dangle from his black 
pants.]

RP: Well would YOU be in a good mood if you were attacked while defenseless 
and then humiliated by being tarred and feathered in the middle of the ring?

LVK: It beats the hell out of getting your skull smashed in by chairshots week in and week
out.

RP: *Sniff* Those...those were beautiful moments.

[Arriving at ringside, Vanguard reaches up with a powerful hand and grips 
the top rope, pulling himself up on the ring apron - and still maintaining 
eye contact slides between the ropes. With a sinister snarl he runs his hand 
across his throat, letting his attentions be known.]

LVK: Vanguard just charged into the ring!!!




 __    ___ __      ______________________________________________________________
| _ \ /  _\\ \    / /
| U < | |_  \ \/\/ /                 Deep South Rules match
|_|\_\\___/  \_/\_/
              \                 "Excessive Force" Eric Vanguard
  Written by   \                              vs
    Terry       \                    Madison J. Valentine
                 \_______________________________________________________________




*DING DING DING*

[Caught completely by surprise, Valentine is quickly taken down by a forearm to the back. 
Vanguard begins to maul him, pouncing on the hurt Canadian and pounding away with a flurry 
of punches. He finally drags Mad back to his feet, doubling him over with a couple of knees
to the gut. He grabs him by the hair and slings him through the ropes and outside the ring
...HEEL POP!]

LVK: Eric Vanguard just completely overpowered Madison J. Valentine!

RP: And look at that punkhead on the outside, holding his ribs! Ha!

LVK: Remember folks, this is a Deep South rules, match.

RP: Meaning?

LVK: No top rope manuevers, no piledrivers, and no throwing your opponent over the top rope.

RP: Pffffftttt...bbbbbbooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnngggggggg.....

[As the referee checks on MJV on the outside, we notice Vanguard tampering with the turnbuckle
pad in one of the corners. Valentine manages to roll himself back in the ring, once again 
drawing the attention of Vanguard...]









______SMMMMMMAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!______









Crowd: OH!!!

LVK: What a vile kick to the ribs!!!

RP: Adam Vinatieri, eat your heart out!

[Valentine curls up into a fetal position, clutching his midsection. With a snarl, Vanguard 
scoops up the smaller man and places him over his shoulder. He does a semi-spin, before 
charging right into the corner, ramming Valentine into the turnbuckles rib-first! Heel pop!]

LVK: Those ribs have to be damaged! Valentine just got crushed!!!

RP: Wait, he's not done yet!!!

LVK: Vanguard...









______TTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDD!!!!______









[Heel pop!!!]

RP: HOLY GUACAMOLE!!! He sent that punkhead flying!!

LVK: An absolutely brutal fallaway slam by Eric Vanguard! He nearly threw Madison J. Valentine
across the ring with that!

RP: Valentine should've known better than to mess with Vanguard...he's getting his damn butt
kicked here!

[With a sinister grin on his face, Vanguard runs at Valentine, most likely going for another
soccer-style kick to his ribs. However, Valentine looks up just in time, rolling to a side...]




[FACE POP!!!]




LVK: DROP-TOEHOLD INTO THE SECOND TURNBUCKLE!!!

RP: Argh! Stop fighting back, you punkhead! Take your beating like a man.

LVK: Vanguard hit hard on that manuever. I don't think he ever expected Valentine to do that.

RP: It was pure luck, Van Keel. Don't think for a second that Valentine's got any chance to 
compete...one good shot to the ribs and he's as good as dead.

[Getting up slowly, Valentine keeps a hand on his ribs, as he lays into Vanguard with some
stomps to the back. With much effort, he pulls the former prison guard up and attempts to 
whip him into the opposite corner, only to find Vanguard easily reversing the whip! Hitting
hard, Valentine bounces out hard and is lifted up across Vanguard's shoulders. Vanguard 
hesitates for a moment, allowing Valentine the opportunity to slip free of his grasp...]









______TTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDD!!!!______









[FACE POP!!!]

LVK: Russian legsweep by Valentine takes Vanguard down!!

RP: But the idiot hurt himself...stupid, your ribs are _INJURED._ You don't do moves that 
affect body parts that are..._INJURED._

LVK: I don't think he can hear you, Rick.

[Both men return to their feet at the same time, Valentine looking the worse out of the two.
Vanguard pulls back and swings a wild haymaker, but Em Jiggy Vee's still able to duck and with
unreal power, HOISTS Vanguard into the air...]



[FACE POP!]



[...and falls back, dropping him throat-first across the top rope!!! OLD SK00L!!!]

LVK: HOTSHOT!!!

RP: Where's he finding the will to go on!? Come on, shouldn't Vasquez've come out and bashed
his skull in with a chair by now???

LVK: There's never been any doubt about Madison J. Valentine's endurance and threshold for 
pain, Rick. He's got tremendous heart.

[Vanguard crawls to his knees, holding his throat, coughing up a storm. Valentine capitalizes,
running over and driving a knee right into his face! He pops back up and drives another knee
into the law enforcer's face. And soon...]


*THUNK!!!*


*THUNK!!!*


*THUNK!!!*


*THUNK!!!*


[Pause.]


*THUNK!!!*

RP: Holy crap, he just kneed the living hell out of Vanguard!

LVK: Valentine just hit _SEVEN_ kneedrops on Eric Vanguard and I think I see blood!

[Indeed, there's a healthy red flowing from Vanguard's nose. The former RCW president rolls
to a corner, holding his face as Valentine takes this opportunity to break off into a goofy
as heck strut across the ring! FACE POP!]

RP: Come on, don't let this punkhead Tampa-reject do this to you! Snap his damn ribs in half!

LVK: Vanguard's back on his feet and he doesn't look happy at all!!!

[Indeed, staring at his hands, Vanguard's eyes go wide as he sees the sight of his own blood. 
He runs at Valentine, narrowly missing him with a big boot. He spins around, ducking a 
clothesline attempt by Valentine and lifting him high into the air...]









______TTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDD!!!!______









[HEEL POP!!!]

RP: HOLY CHEESE, PETEY!!!

LVK: THE LOCKDOWN!!! VANGUARD JUST DROVE VALENTINE INTO THE MAT WITH THAT URANAGE SUPLEX!!!


ONE!!!









TWO!!!









THR-KICKOUT!!!

[HUGE FACE POP!!!]

LVK: No!! Valentine manages to slip the shoulder at the last second!

RP: But the damage's been done, Larry! That punkhead got his ribs smashed straight to hell!!! 

[Looking in the ring, we can't help but agree with Rick. Valentine's once again curled up in a
fetal position, clutching his ribs. Vanguard drags him back up to his feet and sends him to 
the corner, smashing his head onto the top turnbuckle! Heel pop! However, as Valentine's head
snaps back, we notice the padding slowly becoming undone.]

LVK: That cheat! He was messing with the pad earlier in the match!

RP: And his plan's come full circle, Larry! Ain't that great?

[Vanguard smashes Valentine's head into the turnbuckle once more, this time, completely 
dislodging the padding from the turnbuckle. He grabs the smaller man by the hair and attempts
to smash him into the now exposed turnbuckle, but Valentine blocks!]

LVK: Valentine's not out of it yet! 

RP: Come on, ram his head in!

[Face pop!]

LVK: Elbowshot to the gut! And another! And...

[HEEL POP!]

RP: Eye gouge! Whooo!!! OLD SCHOOL~!

[...]









______CCCLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNKKKKKKKK!!!!______









[HUGE HEEL POP!!!]

LVK: Vanguard just smashed Madison J. Valentine's head into that exposed steel!!!

RP: Is that...blood?

[Valentine pivots and stumbles out of the corner, before flopping face-first onto the canvas...
the crimson flowly from his forehead quite steadily.]

RP: It is! Whoo doggy, Jethro!!!

LVK: Did you just call me "Jethro?"

[Sensing that the end is near, Vanguard pulls the now bloody Valentine up to his feet and 
sticks his head between his legs, lifting him up for a piledriver. Heel pop! However, referee
Marc Gioffre's on the job...]

RP: What's that dumb ref doing!?

LVK: Remember the rules of the match, Rick! Piledrivers are illegal!

RP: Doh!

[Vanguard jaws with Gioffre for a second, before dropping Valentine in disgust. Instead, he
lifts the former world champion into the air in a military press and DROPS him rib-first 
across his knee! Heel pop!]

LVK: GUTBUSTER!!!

RP: That's gotta' be it!!!


ONE!!!









TWO!!!









THR-KICKOUT!!!

[HUGE FACE POP!!!]

LVK: NO!!! So close!!!

RP: Damnit, stay down! 

[Looking slightly pissed, Vanguard pulls at the taping around Valentine's ribs, driving several
forearms into the small of his back as he does so. He nails a knee to the back that arches 
Mad's back, allowing him lock on an inverted facelock. He smashes down a couple of forearms
onto Valentine's exposed ribcage, before pulling him up...]

LVK: Reverse vertical su-play...

RP: Old school~!

[However, at the apex of his lift, Valentine pushes off, landing behind Vanguard. He manages 
to somehow power up "Excessive Force," nailing him with a textbook back suplex! Face pop!]

LVK: An amazing counter by Madison J. Valentine!!

RP: Awww...what's that punkhead doing now?

[Pointing to the corner with the exposed turnbuckle, Valentine pulls Vanguard over, his 
intentions clear to all. Of course, this is also clear to one, Marc Gioffre...]


[HEEL POP!]


LVK: Marc Gioffre's blocking Valentine's path! He won't let him ram Vanguard's head into the
turnbuckle!

RP: It's about time that zebra did something right!

[Rolling his eyes, Valentine turns his attention back towards Vanguard, nailing him with a 
quick kick to the gut. He attempts to whip Vanguard into the ropes, but the big man reverses
positions with him, attempting to whip him into the corner. However, Valentine manages to 
reverse THAT whip, sending Vanguard into the corner...]




Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!




[...and crashing into Marc Gioffre!!!]

LVK: Marc Gioffre was trying to reattach that turnbuckle pad, but got caught in the middle of
that exchange!

RP: He should've been paying attention!

[Undaunted, Valentine mounts the turnbuckles and begins to punch away at Vanguard!! Heck, the
crowd even counts along!]

ONE!!!



TWO!!!



THREE!!! 



FOUR!!!



FIVE!!!



SI-

[HUGE HEEL POP!!!]

RP: GREAT GOOGILY MOOGILY!!!

LVK: Vanguard countered with a hotshot of his own...and Valentine hit that steel turnbuckle
again!!!

[The ring is filled with bodies, as a now MASSIVELY bleeding Madison J. Valentine, a stunned
Eric Vanguard, and an unconscious Marc Gioffre are all down. Vanguard is up first, immediately
pouncing on the downed Valentine and raining down punches to his bloody forehead! HEEL POP!!!]

LVK: He's opening up Valentine!!!

RP: Bee-yoo-tee-ful! Show that punkhead what's what, Vanguard!

LVK: God, Valentine's literally wearing a crimson mask!

[Finally done with his assault on Valentine, Vanguard pulls the unmoving man to his feet and 
sets him up in the pumphandle position...]

RP: Valentine's out of it. He's lost too much blood to fight back!

LVK: I think I might have to agree with you, Rick. Vanguard really opened him up with those
punches.

[Vanguard smiles at the booing crowd, flicking his fingers of Valentine's blood before he 
lifts...]






*THUMP*






[...]









______SMMMMMMAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!______









[HUGE FACE POP!!!]

RP: SWEET SASSY MOLASSY!!!

LVK: SILVER BULLET!!! SILVER BULLET!!! MADISON J. VALENTINE HITS IT OUT OF NOWHERE!!!

[Valentine takes about two steps, before collapsing atop Vanguard's body.]

RP: Argh!!!

LVK: And Marc Gioffre's crawling over!!!


ONE!!!










TWO!!!










THREE!!!

...

....

.....

......

.......

[Three?]

LVK: What happened? Gioffre stopped counting!

RP: I dunno, Larry...he's checking on Valentine.

[Suddenly, Gioffre simply shakes his head and calls for the bell.]

*DING DING DING*

[Confused pop!]

RP: What happened!?

[Hearing the bell, Valentine rolls off Vanguard and thrusts a weary arm into the air! However,
Gioffre confers with David Stokes...]

DS: Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has stopped this match due to excessive blood loss!!

[HUGE HEEL POP!]

LVK: Oh my...

DS: Therefore, the winner of the match...


ERIC VAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNGGGGGUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAARRDDD!!!!


[HEEL POP!!!]

[Valentine gets to his feet and begins to argue with Marc Gioffre, as the crowd roars with 
disapproval.]

RP: YES! IN YOUR FACE, PUNKHEAD!!!

LVK: What a miscarriage of justice.

RP: Stop being bias, Lar-...

[...]









______CCCLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNKKKKKKKK!!!!______









[HUGE HEEL POP!!!]

LVK: VANGUARD!!! HE SNUCK UP BEHIND VALENTINE AND NAILED HIM WITH THAT CHAIR!!!

RP: God, it doesn't get any better than this!

[Vanguard drags up a hurting Valentine and slaps on a half-nelson. He lifts Valentine into the
air and leaps, pushing the hurt grappler's head forward as they descend...]









______TTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDD!!!!______









[SHOCKED POP!!!]

RP: WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!??!!

LVK: Eric Vanguard calls that "The Slammer!" It's a variation on the piledriver!

[Having layed Valentine out, Vanguard gets to his feet and stares down at his opponent. 
However, he eyes the chair and a smirk appears on his face.]

LVK: What's that sick son of a bit-

RP: Larry!

LVK: What do you want me to call him??? He's beating on a defenseless man!

[Vanguard places the chair across Valentine's back and climbs to the second turnbuckle as the
crowd screams in protest...]

RP: Heh, he's still following the rules of the match!

LVK: Shut up, Rick! We need someone to come out here and stop this madman! He could seriously
injure Valent-...









______CCCLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNKKKKKKKK!!!!______









[HUGE HEEL POP!!!]


LVK: A KNEEDROP RIGHT ONTO THAT CHAIR!!! 

RP: It couldn't have happened to a nicer idiot.

LVK: Madison J. Valentine might be severely injured! Eric Vanguard just did more damage to 
those injured ribs!!! 

[Fade up to RCW owner Clint Fletcher, sitting at his desk, his feet propped up on a stack of
unmarked boxes. Sitting across the desk from him is his sister Candace, who's onscreen for the
first time since the whole SIN debacle.]

CF: Kauffman....Courtade....Kinsey. They all hate each other - how the hell are they going to
work as a team in the War Games match? And that's *if* Chris is fit to fight at all!

[Shakes his head in frustration.]

CF: Hell, I can't see them lasting five minutes without tearing *each other* to pieces. And
now Cherry has got Devon Case on her side, and she's got a full team!

Candace: You'll figure something out, big brother. You always do. 

[Fletch looks off into the distance, a worried frown upon his brow.]

CF: You see sis, I know that the War Games match isn't important in the bigger scheme of 
things. There's no titles on the line or anything like that. But it means alot to *me*. That 
bitch Cherry has been making my life miserable for months now, and if her team manages to win
in the War Games....

[Another frustrated shake of the head.]

CF: No, I can't let it happen. And Goddammit, I still don't even have a full team! 

Candace: There's still time. Miss Cherry's not the most popular person around here - surely 
you can find two more wrestlers who'd love the opportunity to go up against her boys?

[For the first time, Fletch starts to not look stressed.]

CF: You're right. I shouldn't be sitting around moping like a whiney bitch. I should be out 
there finding two more wrestlers for my team!

[Fletch gets up and starts to make for the door. He stops and smiles.]

CF: Thanks sis.

[And then he's gone. Fade to black.]

[Cut backstage one more time, where Devon Case is walking the hallways. After a couple seconds,
he turns to his right and opens the door to his locker room as the camera follows behind. Case
takes a step into the room, then comes to a stop. As the camera looks over Case's left 
shoulder, we find out why ...]

DK: I finally get it, Devon.

[Sitting in a recliner smack in the middle of the room is Dan Kauffman. He's changed to his 
wrestling attire now, with War Games looming. Case just glares.]

DC: Really, now. Pray tell what it is you "get"?

DK: Get why when Fletch announced a World title tournament last week, why you bolted from the 
ring like you'd just seen a ghost.

DC: Really? Did you happen to have a monitor you dumb fu-

DK: The NEW thing? I've heard it all before, but to hear it from the man who got screwed 
himself, and not from secondhand accounts on the newsgroups and websites? I suppose that was
worth it. Not that it was the _truth_ ... but I didn't expect that from you.

[Case just shakes his head in disgust.]

DC: The brittle boy scout ... so naive. You think I'm making this [bleep] up? Do ya? Are you
[bleep]ing stupid?

DK: Nah, that may be true. To be honest, whether you got screwed in NEW or not frankly doesn't
matter to me. But your theory that the _same_ _exact_ _thing_ is going to happen to you _here_ 
... that's not why you bolted from that ring, is it, Devon?

[Kauffman stands up ... Case just continues to glare and listen ...]

DK: It's no wonder you're best friends with Chris. Both of you have this wild theory that
somehow this business, and all the people who are in it, are out to get the both of you. Well,
wake up, Devon. There's isn't a president or owner out there today who wouldn't _kill_ to have
either you or Chris in his promotion. You put fans in the seats, you sell merchandise, you 
create a buzz, and you get reactions. In turn, more people watch Impact and more people bought
Glory on pay-per-view. In truth you and Chris do _far more_ for this business than this 
business could ever do for you.

[Kauffman shakes his head. Case nods accordingly.]

DK: But that's not good enough, is it, Devon? No. There's this little thing called your _ego_.
Maybe it doesn't run rampant as much here as it does elsewhere. You know ... that place where
you're "Mr. Match of the Year" ... the complete workrate-driven egomaniac ... the 
self-proclaimed and Todd Michaelson-approved _Golden God of Wrestling_.

[Case slips out of character for a brief moment, smiling as Kauffman finishes his sentence.]

DK: But that ego _believes_ that last week, with everything you've done for this company and 
with everything that you do for your business ... my business ... _our_ business ... that you
deserved to be _handed_ a World title. When Fletch didn't do that, you became paranoid.

[Kauffman pauses to watch Case's reaction. Case gets rather stoic ... then shaking his head as
if to say "Perhaps."]

DK: That's right, Devon. You're _paranoid_. In your mind, NEW screwed you over, and now, _in
your mind_, you see the same thing happening all over again. 

But what _scares_ you is that there's actually a chance that your ego will have to survive 
without being  the brightest star in the universe. 

What _scares_ you is that the brightest star may turn out to be a soon-to-be 35-year-old 
journeyman who's been labeled a has-been and never-was, yet keeps proving _everyone_ wrong. 

What _scares_ you is that you know you have all this God-given talent, and you _still_ don't
know if you're better than the man who's looking you in the eyes right this very second.

Get it through your head, Devon ... no one in RCW wants to see you fall. No one in RCW is 
conspiring to see you come up short.

Except _me_.

[Kauffman stares into Case's eyes for a moment.]

DK: I'll see you in War Games.

[Case watches Kauffman leave, his eyes staring a hole through the back of Dan's head until he 
turns down the hallway and gets out of view. Fade out.]

[Fade in to the ring, where David Stokes is standing.]

DS: The following contest is set for one fall, and is a LOSER LEAVES TOWN MATCH!!

[BIG ANTICIPATORY POP!!!]

[Stabbing Westward's "Save Yourself" cues up as the whole entourage known as Team Langseth
comes out of the entrance to a heavy dosage of boos. Goku Waru and the Mysterious Suited Guy 
lead the pack, followed by Tommy Stephens (who holds up his Challenger's Choice Title), and 
then finally the "Ringman of the Year" Mister Honeydew and the competitor in the match, Mark
Langseth. The four other members of Team Langseth wait by the ring as Langseth slowly creeps
up the steps, possibly for the final time in RCW, and then enters the ring... all while being
very wary of the situation at hand.]

DS: Introducing first, accompanied by the other members of Team Langseth. He weighs in at 231
pounds, from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania....


MARK LAAAAAAAAAAAAAANGSEEEEEEETTTHHH!!!


[BIG HEEL POP!!]

[Langseth's music fades out, and Nuclear Assault's "Something Wicked" starts up. Making his 
way down the aisle comes Gabriel Whitecross, wearing a tight-fitting, black KSGA [Keening
School of Grappling Arts] sleeveless T-shirt, whilst black denim jeans and short white boots
adorn his lower extremities. His fingers are heavily taped, and thick white supports encircle
his wrists. Despite his relatively young age, Whitecross sports long, grey hair, which is 
pulled back into a ponytail, and a closely-trimmed goatee beard.] 

DS: And now, from Devonshire, Oxford, England. Weighing in 287 pounds, here is....


"THE ERA OF DEFIANCE" 


GABRIEL WHIIIIIIIIIITECROOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSS!!!!


[Whitecross makes it to the ring, and doesn't even look at the Team Langseth entourage, his
gaze locked on the man who he broke into the bigtime, his former student.]




 __    ___ __      ______________________________________________________________
| _ \ /  _\\ \    / /
| U < | |_  \ \/\/ /                 Loser Leaves Town match
|_|\_\\___/  \_/\_/
              \                          Mark Langseth
  Written by   \                              vs
    Fletch      \              "Era of Defiance" Gabriel Whitecross
                 \_______________________________________________________________



*DING DING!!*

[Whitecross and Langseth walk to center ring, neither saying a word as they circle slightly,
determination etched on their faces. Finally they lock up in a collar-and-elbow, and the 
advantage quickly goes the way of Whitecross, who uses his 50-pound weight advantage to easily
push Langseth back into a corner. Referee Teddy Lancaster steps in to break it up....]

LVK: Clean break by Whitecross....



*THWACK!!*



[SHOCK POP!]

RP: Bitchslap!

LVK: A downright dirty tactic by Langseth, but then we could hardly expect anything different
from him.

[Whitecross reacts to the slap, and steps in with his fist cocked. But Langseth simply ducks
his head and shoulders between the top and middle ropes, forcing the referee to step in the
way and stop Whitecross's advance. HEEL POP!]

LVK: It's also hardly surprising that Langseth is employing mindgames from the start. 

RP: Of course it isn't Van Keel. The loser of this match gets banished from RCW - when that
much is at stake, the kiddie gloves come off.

[With Whitecross safely back at the center of the ring, Langseth ducks back in and walks
forward, looking far more cautious than usual. They lock up again, and Whitecross drives
Langseth's shoulders down to the mat with a show of power. Langseth immediately rolls away,
and begins indicating to Teddy Lancaster that his hair was pulled. HEEL POP!]

LVK: Oh come on! Enough of this - just fight!

[Back into the lock-up, and again Langseth is easily overpowered, and sent tumbling back to
the mat. This time he rolls all the way out of the ring, calling a mini-conference with his
entourage. MSG, Honeydew and Waru crowd around, but surprisingly Tommy Stephens stays where
he is, leaning up against the railing a few feet away.]

RP: This is smart wrestling by Mark Langseth. There's too much at stake to be making rash
decisions, better to have a cool head.

LVK: Would you stop it? You know damn well Langseth's nothing more than a coward. If he wasn't,
he'd be in the ring right now actually *fighting* his former mentor!

[Teddy Lancaster starts a count, but it is quickly drowned out by the crowd, who make it clear
what they think about Langseth's stalling tactics.]


*ASS-HOLE! ASS-HOLE!*
*ASS-HOLE! ASS-HOLE!*
*ASS-HOLE! ASS-HOLE!*
*ASS-HOLE! ASS-HOLE!*


LVK: This capacity Memphis crowd, which has seen its share of annoying cowards over the years,
definitely doesn't think much of Mark Langseth!

RP: Pssh, what do these trailer park trash know?

LVK: They know a coward when they see one.

RP: Did you just agree that they're trailer park trash?

LVK: Uh....that's not....

RP: Ah-HA! You did!

[Finally Langseth climbs back into the ring, making sure that Teddy Lancaster keeps Whitecross
back. Whitecross has had about enough of his former protege's crap though - he rushes forward
and stuns Langseth with a punch to the jaw, and then hooks him from the side....]


*THUUUDD!!*


LVK: Side Russian legsweep by Whitecross, and finally some action!

[Langseth arches his back, and climbs to his feet, where Whitecross scoops him up from behind
in a kind of reverse bodyslam lift, and sends him crashing front-first to the mat!]


*THUUD!!*


RP: What the hell was that move?

LVK: I don't know, but Gabriel Whitecross looks very focussed!

[Grabbing Langseth as he gets back to his feet, Whitecross whips him across the ring, adding
extra snap to the Irish whip....]





*THWUUUUNNKKK!!!*




[POP!]




LVK: Backfirst to the turnbuckles goes Mark Langseth!!

RP: Whitecross's got him again!





*THWUUUUUNNNKKK!!!*




LVK: And he repeats the dosage, to the opposite corner! I don't think Whitecross has finished!





*THWUUUUUNNKKK!!!*




[BIG POP!!!]




LVK: THAT'S THREE CORNER-WHIPS, AND LANGSETH IS IN PAIN!!

[Falling to his knees, Langseth arches his back, and then drops to his hands and knees,
grimacing with pain. He rolls onto his back, and Whitecross quickly drops in, hooking the 
leg!]

LVK: Here's the first cover of the match, by Gabriel Whitecross!!












ONE!!!






















TWO!!!!!

























TH-NO! Kickout by Langseth!

RP: The scary thing is that both of these wrestlers are just three seconds away from having 
their RCW careers ended!

[Both wrestlers get back to their feet, and Whitecross hoists Langseth up onto the top 
turnbuckle. He starts to climb up, but Langseth strikes out with a punch to the head, 
knocking Whitecross back to his feet on the mat. A short kick to the side of the head 
sends Whitecross staggering back further from the corner, and Langseth then lines him 
up, and jumps....]




*THUUUDDDD!!!*





RP: DROPKICK FROM THE SECOND ROPE BY LANGSETH!!

LVK: Cover!














ONE!!!
























TW-Not even two, as Whitecross powers out of the cover!

[Again the two combatants climb to their feet, and Langseth hooks on a front chancery. He
hoists Whitecross skyward....]








*THUUUUUUDDD!!!*







RP: Vertical suplex!!

[Rolling onto his hands and knees, Langseth grabs Whitecross's right leg by the foot and the
shin, holding it down against the mat. He then swings his legs into the air, doing a momentary
handstand of sorts, before bringing the point of his right knee down onto the ankle!]


*THUD!*


[SYMPATHY POP!!]


LVK: OH! A kneedrop right onto the side of the ankle!


*THUD!*


RP: And another one!

LVK: Could this be preparation for the anklelock which Langseth likes to call Greatness 
Personified? The very anklelock submission hold he learned several years ago from his 
then-mentor, Gabriel Whitecross?

RP: What would be sweeter for Langseth than beating Whitecross with that hold?

[Keeping his focus on the ankle, Langseth rolls Whitecross onto his stomach, and simply grabs
the Englishman's right foot, twisting it sideways! This causes Whitecross to writhe in pain.]

LVK: A lot of patience being shown here by Mark Langseth. He could have gone for the anklelock
right there, but instead he's trying to soften up the ankle first.

[Dragging Whitecross to his feet, Langseth pulls him into a standing headscissor. He grabs him
around the waist and tries to lift his legs up into a piledriver position, but Whitecross 
fights it. Langseth tries again, but again Whitecross fights it, and then surges upwards....]



*THUUUDDD!!!*



[FACE POP!!]



LVK: Counters the piledriver attempt with a backdrop!

[Langseth staggers to his feet in a daze, and Whitecross hooks him from behind in a rear 
waistlock. Langseth struggles for a moment, but then finds himself being lifted upwards and
backwards....]




*THUUUUUUDDD!!!!*




[BIG FACE POP!!]




LVK: GERMAN SUPLEX!! AND WHITECROSS BRIDGES!!!
















ONE!!!!
























TWO!!!!!!

























THREE-


RP: NO! Shoulder up!!

[As Teddy Lancaster thrusts two fingers into the air, the fans roar with a DISAPPOINTMENT POP.
Whitecross doesn't dwell on it though, dragging Langseth up by the hair again, his face etched
with focussed determination. He rams a fist into Langseth's gut, doubling him over, and then
pulls one of Langseth's arms between his own legs....]

LVK: Pumphandle lift....




*THUUUUDDDDD!!!*




LVK: ...INTO A RUNNING POWERSLAM!!! WHAT A POWER MOVE BY GABRIEL WHITECROSS!!















ONE!!!!

























TWO!!!!!!

























THREE-


[?]



[DISAPPOINTMENT POP!!!]



LVK: BUT NO! Langseth kicked out, but he was only a millisecond away from getting ousted from
RCW!!

[Finally breaking from his non-stop offense, Whitecross slumps on one knee, gathering his 
thoughts and breath. He decides on his next course of action, and gets to his feet. Langseth
climbs up slowly, and is hoisted up onto the top turnbuckle. Whitecross points to the sky, 
bringing a BIG FACE POP from the Memphis crowd!]

LVK: I think he's setting up for his Super Fisherman Buster - the Revelation of Respect!

[Whitecross climbs up, but is stopped short by a thumb to the eye from a desperate Langseth.
HEEL POP!]

RP: Greco-Roman eyepoke!

[Whitecross drops to his feet and staggers away from the corner, clutching at his face. 
Langseth stands up on the second rope, and then leaps forward....]




*THUUUUDDD!!!*




RP: BULLDOG FROM THE SECOND ROPE!!

LVK: Langseth hooks the leg!













ONE!!!!























TWO!!!!!
























THR-NO! 

[THAT WAS CLOSE POP!]

RP: The suspense is killing me Van Keel. Knowing that one of these two guys is wrestling their
last RCW match. I just hope it's Whitecross. 

[Rolling away from Whitecross, and getting to his feet, Langseth goes back to the right ankle,
dropping down with an elbowsmash across it. He immediately springs back to his feet, and 
repeats the process!]

LVK: And again Mark Langseth goes to work on the ankle. Either he thinks the anklelock is his
best bet at winning this match, or his huge ego has gotten in the way of his commonsense.

[Getting back to his feet, and stomping down on the ankle mercilessly, Langseth then grabs the
leg and drags Whitecross over to the nearest corner. There, he drops and slides under the 
bottom rope to the floor, before grabbing the leg again and dragging it out past the ringpost!]

LVK: OH NO! It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's coming next!



*CLAAANKK!!!*



[PROTEST POP!!]



RP: HOT DAMN! He slammed the ankle against the ringpost! 

LVK: Teddy Lancaster now warning Langseth that he's not going to take much more of this! I 
don't think Langseth would like to lose his RCW contract on a disqualification!

[Sliding back into the ring, Langseth drags Whitecross to the center of the ring, and then 
grabs the leg again. He stands at the Era of Defiance's feet, and holds the right foot, 
wrapping it against the inside of his own leg, and then spins....]

RP: Spinning toehold!

LVK: It doesn't get much more old school than that!

[Langseth drops the leg after a while, and walks away, turning to showboat to the crowd a bit.
HEEL POP. He then turns back to Whitecross, standing and signalling for him to get up. 
Whitecross struggles up, gingerly putting weight on his right foot, grimacing through clenched
teeth.]

LVK: Not surprisingly, that ankle is giving Gabriel Whitecross a lot of problems right now.

RP: Mark's a master technician you know!

LVK: Um, you're forgetting that Whitecross was the one who taught Mark Langseth all he knows.
Well, everything but the cheating tactics.

[Smiling, Langseth simply kicks at the sore ankle, sending Whitecross crashing back to the mat.
He takes his time, and sets up for another spinning toehold. He spins into it, but this time
Whitecross pushes his free foot into Langseth's butt, and thrusts....]




*THWUUUUNNKKK!!!!*




[BIG FACE POP!!!]




LVK: OOHHH!!! WHITECROSS PUSHED LANGSETH OUT OF THE TOEHOLD, AND LANGSETH COLLIDED FACEFIRST
WITH THE TOP TURNBUCKLE!!

[Climbing to his feet and rolling his right ankle to try and get some feeling back into it,
Whitecross ducks a sloppy clothesline attempt from Langseth. Langseth hits the ropes, comes
rebounding off....]




*THUUUUUUUDDDDD!!!*






[FACE POP!!!!]







LVK: FLAPJACK SENDS LANGSETH CRASHING TO THE MAT HARD!!!

RP: Man, did he get some height!

LVK: And now Whitecross makes the cover!!












ONE!!!!























TWO!!!!!
























THR-Kickout!

[Both wrestlers back to their feet, and Langseth reverses a whip into the far corner, sending
Whitecross for the ride. Gabe hits the turnbuckles backfirst, and Langseth comes thundering in,
right into a raised boot. Whitecross grabs the top rope and hoists himself up onto the second
rope, but suddenly Langseth turns and fires off a dropkick....]






*THWAAAAAAAAPPPPPPP!!!!!!*






LVK: DEAR GOD ALMIGHTY!! LANGSETH DROPKICKED WHITECROSS OFF OF THE TOP TURNBUCKLE, AND 
WHITECROSS WENT CRASHING FROM THE RING....RIGHT ONTO THE BARE CONCRETE FLOOR!!!

RP: Normally we have pads down, but tonight the pads are gone! Whitecross could be out cold!

LVK: No, I see him climbing to his feet. HEY! What is that clown Honeydew doing?

[Mr Honeydew heads for the dazed Whitecross, but just as he attacks, Whitecross steps out of
the way, and pushes the masked man full-force into the ringpost...]





*TWUUUUUUNNNNKKKK!!!*





[HUGE POP!!!]





RP: HOLY COW!!! DEW!! THE POST!! OUCH!!

LVK: And now the Mysterious Suited Guy is joining in!





*CLAAAAAAAAANNKKK!!!*






[BIG-ASS FACE POP!!!]





LVK: BUT HE GETS DROPPED THROATFIRST ACROSS THE RING RAILING!!

RP: Dammit! It's so hard to find good hired help these days.

LVK: I'm surprised that Tommy Stephens hasn't made his presence known in this match yet. He's
just stood there watching the whole time!

[Next to try to get in some cheap shots on Whitecross is Waru, but he stops short and decides
against it, returning to the side of Stephens. Whitecross looks ready to battle Waru if he
changes his mind, but doesn't see Langseth slide out to the floor behind him.]

LVK: OH! Langseth with a cheapshot from behind!

[Leaving Whitecross on his hands and knees on the concrete floor, Langseth slides back into
the ring, and orders Teddy Lancaster to count. He does so, and the count reaches five before
Whitecross climbs up onto the apron. Langseth grabs him and hooks on a front chancery...]




*THUUUUUUDDDDDD!!!*




LVK: Whitecross suplexed back into the ring by Langseth!

[Rolling Whitecross onto his stomach, Langseth grabs his right ankle, and goes for gold! 
SUBMISSION HOLD POP!!!]

RP: GREATNESS PERSONIFIED!!! HE HAS IT LOCKED ON IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING!!

LVK: This could be it! Mark Langseth could be about to send another wrestler packing from 
RCW!!

[Whitecross roars with pain, his teeth clenched and his face twisted with agony. Teddy 
Lancaster crouches down, expecting the tap out any second, but instead Whitecross powers 
upwards with his arms, and then rolls under, his momentum sending Langseth rolling to the 
mat as well. As they both roll, Whitecross grabs Langseth's ankle.....]

LVK: REVERSED INTO THE FAMILY NAME!!! THE *ORIGINAL* ANKLELOCK!!

RP: OH CRAP!!

LVK: Mark Langseth looking for a way to reverse it, but he's not going to find any! Gabriel
Whitecross has finished off more opponents with this hold than Langseth can even imagine!

[DISAPPOINTMENT POP!!]

RP: But Mark made it to the ropes! Phew!

LVK: Luckily for Langseth, the hold wasn't put on in the middle of the ring, otherwise it most
definitely would have been all over for him!

[Slowly the two long-time adversaries climb to their feet, both limping slightly and looking
exhausted. Whitecross attacks first, sending Langseth into the ropes, while bouncing off the 
opposite ropes himself. Langseth strikes out with a clothesline, which misses its mark.
Langseth stops, while Whitecross's momentum takes him into the ropes again. He rebounds back,
and bamboozles his former student by floating over him and grabbing his head in one fluid 
motion....]





*THUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!!* 





[BIG FACE POP!!!]





LVK: FLOAT-OVER DDT BY WHITECROSS!!!












ONE!!!!

























TWO!!!!!

























THREE-




[?]




LVK: NO! ONLY TWO!!

[Both men climb to their feet quickly, and Whitecross runs into the ropes, and comes charging
off towards the dazed Langseth....]






*THUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!!!*





LVK: FLYING CLOTHESLINE!!! AND AGAIN WHITECROSS HOOKS THE LEG!!!












ONE!!!!






















TWO!!!!!!

























THREEEE-NOOO!!! MARK LANGSETH HOLDS ONTO HIS RCW CAREER BY THE SMALLEST OF MARGINS!!!

[HUGE BUZZING POP!! The fans are by now just riding the adrenaline rush of watching two 
wrestlers battle for the right to stay in RCW. Both wrestlers are very slow to get up this
time, but Whitecross makes it back to a vertical base moments before Langseth. He runs into
the ropes again, probably going for another flying clothesline.....]




*THUUUUUDDDD!!!*





[PROTEST POP!!]




LVK: HEY! Mr Honeydew just reached into the ring and tripped up Gabriel Whitecross!

RP: Is that Mr Honeydew One? Tommy Stephens used to be Mr Honeydew Two, but is that guy the
original, or Mr Honeydew Three? 

[Whitecross climbs to his feet and turns to see who tripped him up. This gives Langseth the
opening he needs, and he capitalises....]




[SHOCK POP!!]



RP: HOLY NUTCRACKER!!

LVK: Langseth with a vicious low blow! He's going to do anything it takes to win this match!

[Whitecross slowly gets back to his feet, hunched over slightly as he clutches at his groin
region. Langseth is back to his feet a second later, and he runs at Whitecross, grabbing his
head and pulling him towards the corner. Langseth runs up the turnbuckles while holding onto
his former mentor's head, spins and swings down, landing with Whitecross's chin firmly planted
across his shoulder, in what amounts to a swinging Ace Crusher....]










*THUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!*











[HIGHSPOT POP!!!!]










RP: WHAT A MOVE!!! HE CALLS THAT 'INFINITE MAGNIFICENCE', WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT MARK LANGSETH
POSSESSES!!!

LVK: Whitecross looks to be out cold after that, and here's the cover by Langseth!!
















ONE!!!!
























TWO!!!!!!

























RP: THREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!! HE DID IT!!! 




LVK: NO!!!! TEDDY LANCASTER SAYS IT WAS TWO ONLY!!! THAT WAS *VERY* CLOSE!!!

[HUGE RELIEF POP!!!]

RP: Goddammit!!

[Frustrated at not getting the pin, Langseth gets to his feet, offers some choice words to 
Teddy Lancaster, and then stomps down on Whitecross's ankle. HEEL POP! Another stomp follows,
and then Langseth runs out of patience, simply dropping down and grabbing the ankle....]

RP: HE HAS GREATNESS PERSONIFIED LOCKED ON AGAIN!! THIS TIME IT'S OVER!!!





[HUGE FACE POP!!!]





LVK: NO IT ISN'T!!! WHITECROSS MADE THE ROPES!!!

RP: Bah!

[Langseth gets to his feet, and drags Whitecross up. He lifts him and drops him throatfirst 
across the top rope, sending Whitecross staggering away, coughing and clutching at his throat.
Langseth then runs into the adjacent ropes, and comes flying off towards Whitecross. Whether 
by reflex or by design, Whitecross turns at the last minute and scoops Langseth up, turning 
and sending him crashing to the mat in one blur or motion!]






*THUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!!!!!*







LVK: POWERSLAM BY WHITECROSS!!!










ONE!!!!
























TWO!!!!!

























THR-But NO!! Kickout at two and a half!

[Both wrestlers stay down for a few seconds, and then Whitecross gets to his feet, dragging 
Langseth up with him. He boots Langseth in the gut, and underhooks both of his arms, before
lifting and dropping down into a sitout position....]





*THUUUUUUDDDDD!!!!!*





LVK: DOUBLE UNDERHOOK POWERBOMB!!! THAT COULD DO IT!!




















ONE!!!!

























TWO!!!!!!

























THREEEEEEEEE-



[?]




RP: NOOOOOO!!!!!! LANGSETH GOT HIS SHOULDER UP!!!

LVK: So close!! OH BOY!! Now Gabriel Whitecross is signalling for his sitout tombstone 
piledriver, which he calls 'Damnation'!! THIS'LL DO IT!!

[Whitecross lifts Langseth up into the tombstone set-up position, but then drops him back 
down to the mat straight away. He rolls to the mat, clutching at his ankle, bringing a 
CONFUSION POP from the crowd.]

RP: His ankle gave out!! He couldn't hold Langseth up!!

LVK: And Langseth smells blood! He's going for the kill!

[HUGE SUBMISSION HOLD POP!!!]

RP: THE GREATNESS PERSONIFIED ANKLELOCK - FOR THE THIRD TIME!!!

LVK: Surely Gabriel Whitecross can't hold out any longer! He's put up one helluva fight, but
now he's heading the way of Adam Rogers!

[BIG-ASS FACE POP!!!]

LVK: WAIT!! NO HE ISN'T!!! WHITECROSS SOMEHOW STRETCHED OUT AND GRABBED HOLD OF THE BOTTOM 
ROPE!!! INCREDIBLE!!!

[Both wrestlers climb to their feet slowly, both exhausted and stunned. Langseth swings with 
a tired punch, but Whitecross avoids it, causing Langseth to spin around, where Whitecross
quickly clamps on a rear waistlock....]









*THUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!!!!*










[HUGE FACE POP!!!!]












LVK: RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX BY WHITECROSS!!!

RP: HOLY SHIZNIT! He threw Mark almost the whole way across the ring! 

LVK: And now both wrestlers are down!

[HEEL POP!]

RP: Waru's up on the apron!

LVK: Which can't be good news for Gabriel Whitecross, because that usually means....yep, there
it is! Mr Honeydew sliding a chair into the ring!

[Langseth and Whitecross slowly but surely get back to their feet, Langseth grabbing the chair
as he gets up.....]

LVK: Langseth now has hold of that steel chair, and Teddy Lancaster doesn't see a thing!







*CLAAAAAANNNNKKKKK!!!*







[PROTEST POP!!!]







RP: CHAIRSHOT ACROSS THE BACK, AND DOWN GOES WHITECROSS!!!!

LVK: Langseth isn't done though!

[Dropping the folded-up chair to the mat, Langseth drags Whitecross to his feet, and positions
him over the chair. He grabs him by the head, and then swings through....]







*CLAAANNNKKKKK!!!!*







[HUGE PROTEST POP!!!!]










LVK: OOOOOHHHHH!!!! NO SWEAT SWINGING NECKBREAKER ONTO THE CHAIR!!!!

RP: THAT'S IT!! IT'S OVER ROVER!! 

LVK: Whitecross isn't moving...Langseth throws the chair from the ring...and he's making the
cover!! Waru drops down, Teddy Lancaster sees the cover!!!















ONE!!!!

























TWO!!!!!

























[In a shocking development, Tommy Stephens prevents Teddy Lancaster from making the three 
count, by dragging him out of the ring by the leg, and decking him with one punch!]





RP: WHAT THE F[bleep]?!?





[DEAFENING SHOCK POP!!!!]





LVK: TOMMY STEPHENS BROKE THE COUNT! I DON'T UNDERSTAND IT!!

[Langseth, realising that the third count didn't come, yet Whitecross didn't kick out, rolls
to his feet to see what is going on. As he does, Stephens slides into the ring, vaults to his
feet, and meets his mentor head-on......]







*THUUUUUUUDDDDDDD!!!!!!*







[ANOTHER HUGE SHOCK POP!!!!]








LVK: STEPHENS JUST FLATTENED LANGSETH WITH A CLOTHESLINE!! WHAT'S GOING ON?!

RP: Say it ain't so!!

[Stephens rolls to his feet, standing over his fallen mentor, and trashtalking to the extreme,
although none of it is picked up by the microphone.]

LVK: It would appear that Tommy Stephens has turned against Mark Langseth....but, knowing 
these two devious men, I wouldn't be surprised if this was all a trap!

[Stephens slides from the ring, grabs a steel chair, and slides back in, as Langseth struggles
to his feet in a daze.....]






*CLAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNKKKK!!!!!*







RP: Doesn't look like a trap to me Van Keel. He just dented that steel chair over Mark 
Langseth's head!!

LVK: GOOD GOD!! What a turn of events!

[Then laying the chair down on the mat, Stephens drags the groggy Langseth to his feet, and 
hoists him up into a vertical suplex. He leaves him hanging for a moment, and then drops him
down into a brainbuster....]










*CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNKKKKKK!!!!!!*











LVK: THAT'S THE VERTICAL SUPLEX SPIKE...RIGHT ONTO THE STEEL CHAIR!!! WHAT HAS COME OVER TOMMY
STEPHENS?!?

[The fans don't know quite what to think, but they buzz at the sight of what's going on. 
Stephens then rolls from the ring, as Waru drags Teddy Lancaster up, slaps him a few times,
and rolls him back into the ring. Lancaster doesn't rouse right away, but Gabriel Whitecross
does start to come around. He lifts his head, sees Langseth laying sprawled on the mat, a 
patch of blood forming on the top of his head, and climbs to his feet.]

RP: Whitecross is getting up!

[Looking around for answers, Whitecross spots Stephens outside the ring, grinning happily. He 
looks a bit confused for a second or two, but then simply drags the limp body of Mark Langseth
up, and drops him into a sitting position on the top turnbuckle. Slowly he climbs up and hooks
Langseth in a front chancery, while grabbing one leg, and then lifts him upwards and 
backwards.....]












*THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!*













[HUGE FACE POP!!!!]















LVK: THE REVELATION OF RESPECT SUPER FISHERMAN BUSTAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!

RP: Man, Langseth's dead.

LVK: Finally Teddy Lancaster is back to his senses, as Whitecross hooks the leg!!


















ONE!!!!!

























TWO!!!!!!!

























AND THREEEEEEE!!!! THE PINFALL WAS ACADEMIC, BUT THE FACT REMAINS - MARK LANGSETH IS GONE FROM
RCW!!!!

[As the crowd continues to be somewhat silent at the attack, not sure how to react and not 
sure as to where Whitecross stands in the mess, Goku Waru quickly hands Stephens a microphone.]

LVK: What in the world have we just seen?

RP: Team Langseth imploded right before our eyes and Mark Langseth's gone from RCW forever. 
That's what you just saw.

LVK: Not to mention the exploding ego of that disgusting man in the ring. But what about 
Whitecross? Did he know? Did he have a hand in this?

RP: Langseth and him are arch-enemies. If given the chance to boot your rival out, wouldn't
you take it?

LVK: Not if meant dealing with that person.

TS: How do you like that, Mark? Huh?

[Stephens bends down and looks down on his fallen mentor. He slaps his face a couple times, 
"trying" to wake him up.]

TS: Come on, Mark, get back up. Big legend, big man. Get back up. You've still got to show 
that you can still do a match going on here.

LVK: This is sickening. I wasn't a fan of Mark Langseth or approved of half of what he did,
but no one deserves this.

[Stephens looks over to Whitecross and chuckles to himself, which slowly starts some booing 
from the crowd.]

TS: But how do you like it, Mark? Oh, you might not hear this now, but I'm sure you'll hear it 
from the ambulance they drag your dead weight in later tonight. But really, how do you like it?

[Stephens grins as he straightens himself up.]

TS: How do you like being the one on the short end of the stick, the one being left out in the
cold?

[Stephens shakes his head.]

TS: For too long now, Mark, you've held me down. What, you talk about getting me a title? The
Challenger's Choice Title? Are you kidding? Damnit, I was promised the National championship 
- I was promised glory. So far, the only thhings I've gotten I've had to claw and dig through
myself!

LVK: Oh please! Everything he had was given to him in one way or another. He didn't even 
rightfully win that title of his.

RP: Yeah, but he has a point. Stephens has just gotten into the World title tournament, and
only cause he did it himself.

LVK: Yeah, and had connections with Cherry...

[Stephens starts to get upset as the crowd gets louder in their booing. Who'd a thunk it? 
Booing cause Langseth got punked?]

TS: Ever since damned day one, you've been blocking any chance I had to do anything here. Not
one damned National title shot, Mark. Not one! Not even a Gateway title shot. I should've
listened to Waru in the first place: All you would do is eat away any chances I had and then
forget me. Hell, while you stuffing your ego against Extreme & Rogers, I was still where I
was before you showed - bottom of the damned barrel. And when you needed some second, some
human shield, oh just call on over Stephens, huh?

[Stephens shakes his head.]

TS: And then you say you want to help me? You want to be a part of Miss Cherry's movement? Why,
so I could play seconds to your overrated sack of [bleep]? No more... No more Mark. No more
stooging, no more watching you take my chances... No more you.

[Stephens walks back over to Langseth, looks down on him, and spits in his face.]

TS: Disgusting piece of trash. That's what I think of you, Mark. It's one damn good day to see
you leave. One definitely damn good day.

LVK: Terrible. Just terrible.

[Stephens gives a couple short kicks to the side of the limp Langseth to roll him out of the
ring. As Waru enters and hands Tommy his CCT belt, Stephens goes back to the middle of the
ring to where Gabriel Whitecross is, who has been just looking on at the whole event.]

TS: Hey, couldn't have done it without you, Gabe. Did a great job helping me get rid of that
blowhard. Put'er there.

[Stephens extends his hand with a wide smile. Whitecross pauses for a second, but then accepts
Stephens' hand to a large amount of boos.]

RP: Yes! Maybe Whitecross isn't the guy I thought he was. Maybe he does have a brain in 
there.

LVK: This is a dark day for -

[Suddenly, as Stephens continues to smile, Whitecross increases his grip on Tommy's hand,
which turns that smile into an expression of pain. As Whitecross continues crushing Tommy's
hand, he stares right into the Challenger's Choice Champion's eyes. Once Stephens realizes 
what's really 
going down, it's too late...]

LVK: Clothesline! Whitecross just pulled Stephens in and knocked him flat on his back!

RP: DAMN HIM! He can't do that to the Champion's Champion!

LVK: He can and is! Whitecross is stomping a hole right into the chest of Tommy Stephens! He's
probably angry that he didn't the clean win over Langseth.

[Whitecross picks up the wobbly Stephens and sets him up for a fisherman's suplex... until
Whitecross is cracked over the back with a cane!]

LVK: Waru! Goku Waru just came in and broke that cane over the back of Whitecross.

[Gabe lets go of Stephens... but then just turns around with his fiery eyes locked right on 
the cowering old Japanese man. As Waru slowly backs away from Whitecross, Tommy Stephens saves
his own hide and rolls out of the ring. Stephens then taunts Whitecross to get his attention,
which works to let Waru escape the ring unscathed.]

LVK: Damnit! They got away! Stephens and Waru deserve much more than what they got and it's 
only a matter of time before that clan gets what's coming to them.

[Waru - now joined by the barely recovered Mysterious Suited Guy - goes up the aisle as 
Stephens gives some trash talking to Whitecross as he too escapes up the aisle.]

[Fade in to the backstage area once again and to the oft used RCW banner hanging in the
background. In front stands Rosco Riggins. Looking battered, tired...and angry. His face
flush with a combination of exhaustion and frustration.]

RR: Eddie. That was brave...

[He shakes his head.]

RR: No..actually it was stupid...DAMN stupid. You have a broken ankle and you call out the
man who broke it? A very dangerous man?! New found attitude or not you just don't do that,
not if you expect to ever wrestle again, let alone walk.

[He pauses, trying to collect himself.]

RR: Rembrandt...you've been tearing up River City Wrestling. Everyone's been falling all 
around you. You're a terror. You...you remind me of someone Rembrandt. A certain someone who
came here unheralded yet won...and won...and won. You never made your reputation of your 
speaking skills. You never made it on your size. You never made it on jokes and backstabbing
and the comedy others like to. You made it on the same thing this other man did...

[He points to himself, a subtle, effective gesture.]

Because you're a dangerous mother f[BLEEP]er.

[Riggins turns, facing the camera directly.]

RR: You may think you're safe behind Cherry. You may think you're safe behind your reputation.
You may think you're safe now that Eddie, an injured man, a man on crutches, challenged you. 
You may think you're safe because you broke a man's ankle. Well Rembrandt, I challenge you. I
challenge you to prove me wrong.

Rembrandt, prove to me that the copy cat is better then the original.

[And we fade.]

[Fade into a lockerroom, where we see Em Jiggy Vee, still in his ring attire, looking a little 
worse for wear. With his ribs freshly strapped following the abuse they suffered in his match 
with Vanguard, he looks kinda like a retard with a blood-stained white medical headband and a
bunch of wadding stemming the flow of blood from that costly laceration on his forehead. His
face, chest, and upper arms are all covered in dried blood, to boot.]  

[The door swings open, and in walks "The Era of Defiance" Gabriel Whitecross, stripped to the
waist and still bedecked in his black jeans/boots ring attire. He looks more than a bit pissed
about what just went on with Tommy Stephens and Mark Langseth. Valentine offers him a casual
greeting, and Whitecross offers one back, looking very distracted.]

[Suddenly, the door swings open again , and in walks the bossman - Fletch.] 

CF: Val....Gabe....boy am I glad to see you two. 

[His train of thought broken, Whitecross turns and nods a courteous head toward his esteemed 
employer.] 

GW: Mr. Fletcher. 

[Fletcher approaches Whitecross, and gives him a hearty slap on the shoulder.] 

CF: Gabe, what can I say man? Despite what Mark Langseth thought, my main goal in life was
*not* to try and get him out of RCW, but he seemed to have a vendetta against me, so....thanks.

[Big smile and then they shake hands.] 

GW: Well, it has been my experience that what Langseth thinks is never based too far from 
undiluted and dangerous delusion ... So my being able to vehemently oppose his twisted ethics
within RCW's realms does indeed empower me ... even despite the scars that I now carry from 
this ordeal. 

CF: You've had a rough night. You too Val - all of that bull[bleep] with Eric Vanguard must
really be getting to ya. But guys, I'm gonna cut right to the chase. In just a few minutes 
the War Games main event match is taking place, and I'm still short of a couple of wrestlers
for my team. I know you two have already wrestled a couple of big matches tonight, but 
well.... 

[Before Fletch can continue, Whitecross speaks up.] 

GW: Mr. Fletcher, you need say no more. I gladly offer my assistance. It is the very least
that I can do. 

[The boss turns to Valentine.]

CF: Mad..? Can I--

MJV: -- You wanna try and stop me? 

[Throwing the black t-shirt that's wrapped around his shoulders to one side, he steps forward.]

MJV: I mean - Vasquez? Devon Case? That ankle-breakin' sumbitch Rembrandt? Cherry Pie? Now if
that doesn't sound like a 'who's who' of folks Em Jiggy Vee would *most* like to whoop the ass
of, I dunno what does.

So, uh... don't sweat it, bookerman(~!). I'm *so* there.

[Fletch smiles, but it's mainly a smile of relief.] 

CF: Guys, that's great. But you better get moving quick smart, because the match is about to
start! 

[Fletch hurries out the door. Fade to black.] 

[Cut to David Stokes, who now stands inside the double cage.]

DS: Ladies and gentlemen....


WELCOME....TO....


WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGAAAAAMMMESSSS!!!


[DEAFENING POP!]


*SHE'S MY CHERRY PIE!*


[HUGE HEEL POP!! "Cherry Pie" by Warrant abruptly transitions straight into the chorus a very
different song - "Bitch" by Sevendust.]

#Don't hesitate
Or you'll live in your own hell
Out of my way
You're surrounded by evil
Don't hesitate
You can get away
Out of my way
Out of my way (huh)#

[It's noticeable that a bigger fleet of Police officers parts the way for Miss Cherry to make
her entrance. She strides down the makeshift aisle, looking disgusted by how close the fans
are, wearing a formal black skirt suit, with a dark blue tie and the thick-rimmed glasses, and
her long blond hair tied up. She is handed a microphone as she steps up into the doorway of 
the cage.]


*SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!*
*SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!*
*SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!*

*SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!*
*SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!*
*SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!*


[With the capacity Mid South Coliseum letting her know what they think of her, Miss Cherry
suddenly looks shocked, and brings both hands up to her ears, trying to block it out.]


*SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!*
*SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!*
*SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!*

*SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!*
*SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!*
*SLUT! SLUT! SLUT!*


[Finally she brings her hands back down, and simply stands with a scorned frown on her face. 
The chant dies down, and Miss Cherry finds the resolve to continue.]

MC: What I would like right now is for you fat, inbred, Jerry Springer-watching Tennessee
hicks to shut the hell up....

[OLD SCHOOL HEEL POP!]

MC: ...while I introduce the team which is going to *win* this Wargames match. The most lethal
combination of wrestling talent ever assembled in an RCW ring....  

[After a couple of seconds the lights begin to flicker on and off as Monster Magnet's "Temple
of Your Dreams" begins to play over the PA system. Finally, the venue becomes completely 
engulfed in darkness as the crowd suddenly roars with boos, knowing full well who's coming
out.]

#Wake up baby I'm comin' to you from the future#
#Don't be suprised when I'm sittin' at the foot of your bed#
#I bring you a light you could never see in the daytime#
#Planting the seed of my perfume in your head#

[...]





_____BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!_____





[The lights return as a HUGE, LOUD, MASSIVE, BOOTYLICIOUS~! HEEL POP! fills the arena, as they
see our SAVIOR~!, the sensation sweepin' the nation and object of Katie Holmes' 
self-fingerization(Ewww!), *your* River City champion..."El Cholo" Juan Vasquez(~!), standing
in front of the curtain with an angry scowl on his face. Juan moves his head from side to
side, staring out towards the crowd, before dropping his arm, and out of the curtain walk
Tommy Stephens and Rembrandt - Stephens with an unusually-intense look on his face, and
Rembrandt with a similar, but-more-familiar look of intensity.]

DS: Introducing first.....

#Well I've wasted enough of my time on the edge of forever#
#And I've paid all the Goddamn dues that I wanna pay#

DS: Here are......


TOMMY STEPHENS....


REMBRANDT....


aaaaaaaaaaaand "EL CHOLO" JUUUAAANNN VAAAAAAAAAASSQUEEZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!!


[SUPER MEGA HEEL POP!]

#Never let them hear you beg, never let them know#
#Your pillow nest of a dripping Gods is the place you go alone#
#But late at night I hear you cry#
#Your taste for dirt just makes me smile#
#Have I got something warm for you#

[Juan's head his bandaged, as a result of the effect Chris Courtade's iron clawhold had on him
earlier in the evening. He's wearing a sleeveless black shirt with the words, "MALICE OF
ALICE" written on the front and a pair of baggy, loose-fitting black jeans. His fists are 
heavily taped, he's got an elbowpad on his left arm, and there's one of those stylish cut-out
socks that extends from his forearm to his bicep. Stephens is wearing the same clothes as when
we saw him interfere in the Whitecross/Langseth match earlier, and Rembrandt is also still 
wearing his wrestling attire from his earlier match, but now has some bandaging around his
head like Vasquez.]

#Well I've wasted enough of my time on the edge of forever#
#And I've paid all the Goddamn dues that I wanna pay#
#If I can't slip into the thirteenth house of your twilight#
#I'll plant a bomb in the temple of your dreams#
#Plant a bomb in the temple of your dreams#

[Juan, Tommy and Remy make their way to the cage and Juan looks it up and down, smiling 
deviously as the music fades out. They then climb in, under the watchful eye of their 
lovely-but-lethal leader.]

[Then, suddenly, the lights go out! Strobe lights randomly flash through the darkness and
surging hazy purple smoke as Eminem 's "The Way I Am" starts to blast through the speakers 
at full tilt...]
     
     
*FFFFFFFFFFFFFFSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!*
            

[A white light blinds the the crowd as the arena then goes pitch black.]
     
DS: And their next partner, the former National Heavyweight champion...


"MR EXCITEMENT"


ALEX EXTREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEMMMEEEEEE!!!

     
[Through the smoky purple haze and sea of fans walks "Mr Excitement" Alex Extreme. He is 
wearing a black and neon blue leather jacket, a black t-shirt with a big huge clumsly splashed
big X in neon purple on it, Ray Ban wafer shades and a pair of neon blue and black swirled 
spandex pants.  Extreme makes his way to ringside and climbs past Miss Cherry, shooting her
a distrustful glare, before warming up away from the other three.]

[Then "Would?" by Alice in Chains blasts over the speakers, and a few seconds later Devon 
Case is pushing his way through the makeshift aisle, sporting his usual long black tights on
black and dark blue.]

DS: And finally, hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada, and weighing in at 230 pounds....here is....


"MR MATCH OF THE MID-YEAR"......"DEVIOUS".....


DEEEVVOONNNN CAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSEEEEE!!!!


[Case also gives Miss Cherry a wary glance, before climbing into the cage. Referee Marc 
Gioffre quickly informs Cherry's team that they have to leave the cage, and begrudgingly
they begin doing so.]

LVK: I have to say it - Miss Cherry has put together a very formidable team.

RP: You sound surprised. Miss Cherry is the kind of woman who gets what she wants, and she 
wants to get a psychological edge on Fletcher here tonight.

[The fans begin to buzz amongst themselves as there is a moderatly-lengthy pause. But then
suddenly....]


*EVERYTHING SUCKS!!*


[BIG FACE POP!!! "Everything Sucks (Andy Wallace Remix)" by Dope begins to blare through the
PA system. A few seconds later the makeshift aisle parts, and through it walks the RCW boss
- Clint Fletcher. He's still wearing his faaded blue jeans, but has given up his black silk
shirt in favor of a black and red RCW t-shirt.]

DS: And now, introducing the team representing Mr Fletcher....

[Following close behind Fletcher come first Gabriel Whitecross, then Madison J. Valentine,
then Luke Kinsey, and finally, Dan Kauffman. Each of them are wearing the same RCW t-shirt
as Fletcher, in a show of unity.]

DS: Accompanied by Mr Fletcher, here are...


MADISON J. VALENTINE...


"THE ERA OF DEFIANCE" GABRIEL WHITECROSS....


"COOL HAND" LUKE KINSEY....


aaaaaaaaand DAN KAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUFFMAAAAAAAANNNN!!!!


[EARTH-SHAKING FACE POP!!!]

LVK: Fletcher's team all coming out together, showing real teamwork, but the fact that Chris
Courtade isn't with them has to be a real concern!

RP: Are you kidding? Without Courtade these four are dead meat! There's no way they can win
a Wargames match a man down!

[Fletcher's team assemble on one side of the ring, while Miss Cherry barks orders at her team
on the other. Case and Extreme don't look too interested in Cherry's orders, Extreme facing 
the other way and shadowboxing to warm up, while Case simply stares through the cage at Dan
Kauffman.]

LVK: The intensity is electrifying!

[Finally Luke Kinsey steps forward for Team Fletcher, climbing into the cage. He stops and
points out towards Team Cherry, and one man in particular. BIG POP!!]

LVK: Kinsey is pointing at Alex Extreme! He's clearly pissed about being tossed off of the
scaffold match by Extreme earlier in the show!

RP: Kinsey knocked Alex off first!

LVK: By *accident*!

[Extreme finally sees Kinsey pointing, and pushes past the other members of his team, climbing
into the cage! BIG POP! Miss Cherry looks taken aback by this, and starts yelling and ranting
angrily.]

LVK: I don't think this was Miss Cherry's plan, but it doesn't matter, because the cage is
being locked! Alex Extreme and Luke Kinsey are going to get us started!




 __    ___ __      ______________________________________________________________
| _ \ /  _\\ \    / /
| U < | |_  \ \/\/ /                       WAR GAMES~!
|_|\_\\___/  \_/\_/
              \       Team Fletcher (Dan Kauffman, Luke Kinsey, Chris Courtade,
  Written by   \             Madison J. Valentine and Gabriel Whitecross)
    Fletch      \                              vs
                 \      Team Cherry (Devon Case, Juan Vasquez, Tommy Stephens,
                  \                  Rembrandt and Alex Extreme)           
                   \_____________________________________________________________


[Kinsey waits in the far ring as Extreme climbs through the door, and it is shut and locked
behind him. Extreme climbs over the double set of ropes into the same ring as Kinsey, and is
immediately met with a big right hand! IT'S ON NOW POP!!!]


*DING DING!!*


LVK: KINSEY AND EXTREME - THIS WARGAMES MATCH IS UNDERWAY!!

[The anger from what happened earlier in the scaffold match boiling over, Kinsey and Extreme 
stand toe-to-toe and trade punch after punch after punch, much to the delight of the Memphis
crowd. Kinsey starts to get the better of Extreme, and slaps on a side headlock. Extreme 
quickly pushes out of it though, sending Kinsey into the ropes....]

LVK: Kneelift by Extreme! And an elbow to the back of the head!

[Kinsey doesn't go down, merely staggering a bit from the shot to the back of the head.
Extreme follows up with a knife-edge chop. WHOO! He then grabs Kinsey by the hair, and 
flings him towards the metal siding of the cage, but Kinsey manages to block it, and fights
out of the former National champ's grasp. He in turn grabs Extreme by the hair, and thrusts
him headfirst....]




*CLAAANNNKKKK!!!!!*




[BLOODTHIRSTY POP!!!]




RP: OOOHHHH!!! EXTREME FACEFIRST INTO THE STEEL CAGE!!!

LVK: And down goes Luke Kinsey!

[Extreme walks away from Kinsey and starts to argue with referee Marc Gioffre for a reason
which isn't entirely apparent. He then returns to Kinsey, dragging him up by the hair - BLOOD
POP!!!]

LVK: DEAR GOD!!! WE'RE LESS THAN TWO MINUTES INTO THIS MATCH AND ALREADY LUKE KINSEY IS 
SPOUTING BLOOD FROM HIS FOREHEAD!!!

RP: Now *THAT* is old school, BAY-BEE!

[Extreme pulls Kinsey into a standing headscissor, and then easily lifts his legs....]







*THUUUUUUUDDDDD!!!!*







[HIGHSPOT POP!!!]








LVK: PILE-DRIVAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!

RP: Pin him!

LVK: Rick, you're forgetting that there are *no* pinfalls in this match! It's submission or
surrender only, and that can only happen once all wrestlers are in the ring!

RP: Oh yeah. Then...cripple him!

[Climbing back to his feet, and standing over the fallen Kinsey, Extreme raises his arms 
triumphantly, to a huge HEEL POP from the crowd. But Miss Cherry likes what she sees, cheering
and clapping outside the cage. Extreme then moves over Kinsey, and simply drops his right knee
down onto his bloody forehead!]

RP: Ouch! That's gotta hurt like a bitch!

[Extreme gets back to his feet again, his right kneepad now splattered with thick, sticky 
blood. He smiles sadistically, and repeats the dosage. PROTEST POP!]

LVK: Alex Extreme really has Luke Kinsey where he wants him right now, and he's enjoying 
inflicting punishment on a man who was his tagteam partner earlier in the show!

[After a couple more seconds of showboating, Extreme drags Kinsey up once more, and attempts
to whip him across the ring into the far corner. Kinsey counters in mid-whip, but instead of
sending Extreme into the corner, he lets go of him a little earlier, sending "Mr Excitement"
thundering headfirst into the cage!]








*CLAAAAAAAAANNNNKKKKKKK!!!!!!*









[HUGE FACE POP!!!!!]










LVK: NOW IT'S EXTREME'S TURN TO TASTE STEEL!!

RP: Alex was busted open! Both wrestlers are bleeding!!

[Kinsey, his long brown hair matted with blood and the thick lifejuice trickling down one 
cheek,  does a cocky little strut across the ring and back, and then stomps down onto 
Extreme's face, which is also sporting blood from a cut above the right eye. He drags Extreme
up, and slaps him in a standing headscissor....]






*THUUUUUUUDDDDDD!!!!!*






[THUNDEROUS FACE POP!!!!!]







LVK: PILE-DRIVAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!! KINSEY RETURNS THE FAVOR!!!!

RP: They know they can't get a pin, or even a submission just yet, so these two are just 
trying to inflict as much damage as possible!

[Dragging the groggy Extreme to his feet, Kinsey grabs him again by the back of the head, 
and pushes him into the cage, making sure that Extreme's forehead meets the cage's structural
pole!]








*CLAAAANNNNNKKKKKKK!!!!!!!*








[WE WANT MORE BLOOD POP!!!!]








*CLAAAANNNNNKKKKKKK!!!!!!!*










[WE'RE GONNA GET MORE BLOOD POP!!!!!]











*CLAAAANNNNNKKKKKKK!!!!!!!*










RP: HOLY SHIZNIT!!! THREE TIMES INTO THE CAGE!!! THAT'S SICK!!!

[Extreme falls back to the mat, his face now the veritable crimson mask. He blinks, trying to
see through the thick red substance, which is now covering his entire forehead, into his eyes,
and one whole side of his face.]

LVK: This is incredible!! How are these two wrestlers going to last this entire match at this
rate?

[Kinsey helps Extreme to struggle up to his knees, but suddenly Alex strikes out with a punch
into the midsection, and a short and sharp headbutt. Extreme climbs to his feet, and grabs 
Kinsey by the head. But instead of throwing him into the cage, Extreme instead pushes his 
forehead into the fence-like wire, and then starts to violently pull from side to side!
ALMIGHTY  PROTEST POP!!!]

LVK: OOOOOOHHHHH!!!! WHAT A SICKENING SIGHT, AS THE METAL CAGE TEARS AND BITES INTO THE SOFT
FLESH OF LUKE KINSEY'S FACE!!!!

[Kinsey screams in pain as the blood starts to really run from his head now, the flesh slicing
apart as it is dragged across the metal cage siding. Extreme, himself a bloody mess, grimaces
in effort as he inflicts the incredible pain with determination. After about the sixth or 
seventh "run" he lets Kinsey simply drop to the mat, the camera picking up a good-sized blob
of blood as it splatters against the canvas.]

RP: Man, I hope the local bloodbanks are stocked up, 'cause they're gonna be getting two 
visitors tonight! Probably more than two!

[Kinsey is dragged to his feet again, and Extreme throws him headlong into the cage.....]







*CLAAAAAAANNNNNKKKKK!!!!!!*







[Kinsey hits, but bounces back down onto his feet, his eyes staring blankly in a daze from
behind a blood-splattered face. Extreme swings with a big roundhouse punch, but Kinsey somehow
has the state of mind to duck the blow, and hook Extreme from behind....]





*THUUUUUUDDDD!!!*





[FACE POP!!!]





LVK: BELLY-TO-BACK SUPLEX!!!!

RP: Time's up!! They're gonna have the coin toss to see who comes in next!!

[As Kinsey begins to pound into the bloody forehead of Extreme with short-and-sharp punches, 
the camera swings away to ringside, where second referee Teddy Lancaster has a coin in his
hand. He looks to Miss Cherry for the call, and she calls "tails" as the coin is flipped into 
the air. It falls to the ringside floor, bouncing a few times, before coming to a stop. 
Lancaster bends down, picks up the coin....]

TL: TAILS IT IS!

[HEEL POP!!!]

RP: OH YEAH!! Cherry called it right, which means her team gets to send in the next guy!!

LVK: Giving them a two-on-one advantage!!

[The camera cuts back to Kinsey, who is still pounding away at Extreme's forehead, his fist
now covered in blood. It then cuts back to the cage door, which is being unlocked. It swings
open, and into the cage steps....]

LVK: Tommy Stephens! Stephens is in next for Team Cherry!

[Stephens rushes into the cage, but Kinsey sees him coming and climbs to his feet. He rushes
over, meeting Stephens as he gets to the part where the two rings meet. Kinsey stuns Stephens 
with a swinging roundhouse punch, and then hooks him in a front chancery.....]





*THUUUUDDDDD!!!!*






[FACE POP!!!]





LVK: STEPHENS JOINS THE ACTION - SUPLEXED INTO THE SAME RING AS KINSEY AND EXTREME!!

[Stephens rolls to his feet, but is immediately dropped again when Kinsey rams the point of 
his right elbow into Tommy's forehead. Extreme struggles up and rushes at Kinsey, but gets
the same treatment, and he too falls to the mat.]

LVK: Luke Kinsey is taking it to both Stephens and Extreme!!

[Crowd: OOOOHHHHHH!!!]

RP: Heh, not anymore!

LVK: Cheap trick number 76 out of the Tommy Stephens handbook of cowardice - the low blow!

RP: Bah, stop playa-hating Van Keel.

[As Kinsey drops to his knees, both hands clasping at his nether-region, while his mouth hangs
open in shocked pain, Extreme and Stephens both regain their faculties, and then begin that
age-old old school wrestling tradition - the double-team mudhole stompathon!]

RP: Kinsey should have joined Miss Cherry's team, siding with his old friend Juan Vasquez, but
instead he chose to represent Fletcher. So he deserves what he's getting right now!

[Having unleashed a hellish stomping, Stephens and Extreme stop for a moment and walk away to
opposite sides of the ring, where they each face their portion of the crowd and engage in a
mini celebration - Stephens standing with his arms crossed, nodding confidently, while Extreme
holds both arms into the air, and then flips a double bird towards the booing fans. HEEL POP!!]

LVK: Team Cherry has the perfect situation, because they will never be outnumbered in this
match. And as you can clearly see, they're revelling in that fact!

[Returning to Kinsey, Extreme and Stephens look at each other warily, still not totally 
comfortable with working together. But they seem to overcome it very quickly, and set to
work doubleteaming Kinsey. They drag Luke to his feet, and Extreme holds him up, while 
Stephens climbs through two sets of ropes into the other ring. Extreme then hooks Kinsey 
in a front chancery, with Luke's back to the two sets of ropes, and a second later lifts 
him into the air. He doesn't lift him completely vertical though, instead leaving Kinsey 
hanging almost horizontally, so that Stephens can grab his legs. They both then pull 
downwards, dropping Kinsey down across the two top ropes with his chest and midsection!]

LVK: GOOD GOD!!! 

RP: WHAT A MOVE!! ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT!!

[Bouncing into the ring where Stephens is, Kinsey hits the mat on his back, and curls up into
a fetal position, his hands clutched to his chest and midsection in obvious pain. Stephens, 
his face covered in a momentary smile, then begins to stomp away at Kinsey some more. Extreme
climbs over the ropes into the ring as well, and they drags Kinsey up and send him into the 
ropes. Kinsey rebounds, and ducks a double clothesline attempt....]






*THUUUUDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!*







[HUGE FACE POP!!!!]








LVK: KINSEY WITH A DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE!!! DOWN GO EXTREME AND STEPHENS!!!

[Kinsey climbs to his feet, his face still a mess of crimson blood, and attempts to whip 
Extreme into the ropes. Extreme reverses it, but Kinsey ducks under a clothesline attempt.
He raises his head, expecting to run into the opposite ropes, but instead finds himself
heading for Stephens. Tommy steps to the side and grabs Kinsey's head, using his own 
momentum to send Luke flying through the air.....]







*CLAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNKKKKK!!!!!!*








[SHOCK POP!!!!]









RP: Well, that comeback was shorter than my attention span when Rick Styles is on the 
microphone.

LVK: Rick who?

RP: Eh, just some no-talent bum I saw on access TV.

LVK: Luke Kinsey might not be faring too well against two men, but he won't have to for 
much longer.

RP: Huh?

LVK: Look at the cage door.

[HUGE FACE POP!!! The door swings open, and in steps.....]

LVK: GABRIEL WHITECROSS IS IN THE CAGE, EVENING THINGS UP!!

RP: Bah, he's dead meat, just like Kinsey!

[Seeing the "Era of Defiance" climbing into the ring, Tommy Stephens backs away, leaving
Extreme to face the heat. Extreme runs at Whitecross, but straight into a huge powerslam!]


*THUUUUDDDD!!!!*


[FACE POP!! Stephens realises that he's going to have to face up to his fears, and he spots
his opening, rushing over and slamming a forearm shot down onto the back of Whitecross. But 
to a HUGE FACE POP, Whitecross doesn't even flinch. He turns around, his face an angry growl,
and Stephens' eyes grow wide in shock!]

RP: ARGH! Run Tommy!

[Stephens doesn't do that. He simply stands frozen on the spot, as Whitecross takes a step
towards him, fire burning in his intense eyes. For a couple of moments Whitecross remains 
motionless, but then he suddenly springs into action, swinging a stunning right hand into
Stephens' face, which rocks the Challenger's Choice champion. Another punch sends Stephens
crashing to the mat! BIG FACE POP!!]

LVK: Gabriel Whitecross has already sent Mark Langseth packing from RCW tonight, and now he's
taking it right to Langseth's former protege, the very man who turned against Langseth earlier
in the show!

[Standing over the fallen Stephens, Whitecross grabs both of his legs and holds one against
each of his hips. Then he falls back to the mat, slingshotting Stephens powerfully, so that
Tommy's face collides with the steel cage!]





*CLAAANNNNKKKKKK!!!!*






[POP! Whitecross keeps hold of Stephens' legs, allowing him to fall back to the mat after the
impact with the cage, and then simply repeats the dosage....]






*CLAAAANNNNNNKKKKK!!!!*






[POP!! And yet again Whitecross keeps hold. Stephens falls to the mat, and is then sent back
into the cage for a third time...]






*CLAAAANNNNNNKKKKK!!!!*






[BIG POP!!!]







LVK: DEAR GOD ALMIGHTY!!! THREE TIMES INTO THE UNFORGIVING STEEL CAGE!!! THREE TIMES!!!

RP: Oh geez! NOW TOMMY'S BEEN BUSTED OPEN TOO!!

[Finally Whitecross lets go of Stephens' legs, letting him fall to the mat, a deep line of
crimson cutting diagonally across his forehead.]

LVK: The blood continues to flow here inside the Wargames cage!

[Whitecross climbs to his feet, and suddenly finds himself face-to-face with Alex Extreme,
who tries to wipe some blood out of his face, but only succeeds in smearing it more. The fans,
seeing this new confrontation, let out a big POP!]

LVK: Whitecross and Extreme - I understand they used to wrestle together in New York, but 
never really crossed paths. Well, that's about to change!

[Whitecross and Extreme stand their ground, a few feet apart, their eyes locked together in
an old school staredown. Finally Whitecross is the first to move, holding out both hands and 
gesturing for Extreme to "come get some". Extreme does just that, lunging forward and swinging
a right hand into the side of Whitecross's head. Whitecross takes a step back, and then quickly
answers back with a punch of his own. Within the blink of an eye, the punches start coming 
thick and fast! BRAWL POP!!]

RP: Look at them go!

[The melee doesn't last long though, before Extreme catches Whitecross with a short, sharp kick
to the gut, which doubles over the "Era of Defiance". Extreme follows up with an elbow to the
back of Whitecross's head, and then sends him into the ropes, catching him with a jumping
clothesline!]

RP: Oh yeah! Now we're talking!

[Meanwhile, Kinsey gets back to his feet, and throws Stephens over the two sets of ropes into
the other ring, and climbs in after him. He drags Stephens back up again, and then locks on a
gutwrench hold, before lifting Tommy up and dropping him into a backbreaker! POP! Kinsey 
climbs back to his feet, and spots Miss Cherry looking very concerned outside of the ring. 
With a smile spreading across his blood-covered face, Kinsey grabs at the cage near Cherry,
and begins to thrust his hips back and forth towards her! BIG FACE POP!!!]

RP: KINSEY'S HUMPING THE CAGE!!

LVK: He's simply playing mind games with Miss Cherry, and it seems to be working!

[Cherry's mouth drops open in shock, and then she starts to throw a hissy fit, pacing back 
and forth, and then jumping up and down on the spot. She grabs at Rembrandt, signalling for
him to do something, but Rembrandt can do little but shrug.]

LVK: Does she expect Rembrandt to be able to walk through metal? There's nothing he can do!

RP: Not until he gets into the ring anyway.

LVK: Speaking of which, it's time for the next entrant into this match!

[The cage door swings open, and in walks.....]

RP: WOOHOO!! Juan Vasquez!

[A HUGE HEEL POP goes up as Vasquez climbs in, and the door is locked behind him. Juan takes a
few steps forward, and then finds himself faced with Whitecross, who leaves a bloody and 
exhausted Extreme lying on the mat. Whitecross lashes out with a kick to the ribs, but Vasquez
catches the leg. He holds it, causing Whitecross to hop on one leg for a moment, but then Gabe
jumps up and swings with his free leg....]

LVK: ENZUI-

RP: NO! Vasquez ducked it!

[Whitecross falls facefirst to the mat, and Vasquez quickly capitalises with a vicious stomp
to the back of the head, followed up by an elbowsmash across the back.]

LVK: Still no sign of Chris Courtade - it looks like Team Fletcher is definitely going to have
to try to win this match with only four men!

[Keeping with the trend of the match, Vasquez drags Whitecross to his feet, and then throws
him facefirst into the cage. Whitecross bounces off, and falls flat to the mat. In the other
ring, Kinsey tries to superplex Stephens, but Stephens counters by lifting Kinsey, and turning
to throw him over the two sets of ropes into the other ring. But Kinsey holds on, and drops 
Stephens throatfirst across one set of ropes! POP! Kinsey lands on his feet, and then turns
...seeing Vasquez standing on the opposite side of the ring, looking right back at him! 
BIG-ASS POP!!!]

LVK: OH MY GOD!! LOOK AT THIS!!! Luke Kinsey and Juan Vasquez were once the best of friends,
tagteam partners, stablemates...they were inseperable. But that relationship turned sour 
months ago, and they've managed to stay out of each other's way since then....UNTIL NOW!!!

RP: OH MAN!! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS FOR SO LONG!!!

[The crowd lets rip with an incredible MEGA POP FROM HELL as the two former Life of the Party
members keep their eyes locked together and start to walk towards each other. Closer, closer,
closer, until they finally come nose-to-nose, no words needing to be said, the intensity clear
for all to see....]





*THWACK!!*





LVK: THE FIRST PUNCH IS THROWN BY VASQUEZ.....AND IT'S ON!!! OH YEAH IS IT ON!!!

[The place goes absolutely beserk, every fan in the building on their feet, as Kinsey and 
Vasquez go punch-for-punch, letting all of their built-up emotions loose in one big flurry 
of action!]

RP: VASQUEZ! KINSEY! VASQUEZ! KINSEY! LOOK AT THE TWO FORMER BEST FRIENDS GO TO WAR!!

[But before anything can be settled, Alex Extreme joins the fray, nailing Kinsey with a kick
to the ribs. He then joins Vasquez in beating on Kinsey, and then stomp him into a corner 
viciously. HEEL POP!]

LVK: There's the numbers game again, working in favor of Miss Cherry's team!

[FACE POP! Whitecross is suddenly back up, and he sends Vasquez flying into the cage facefirst,
before taking down Extreme with a flying shoulderblock off the ropes. But as this is happening,
Stephens is in the other ring, being handed some stuff through the cage by Goku Waru. Stephens
approaches the part where the two rings meet, and Whitecross turns around....]





*PFFFFFFFFFFFFHHHHHHH!!!!!*





[BIG HEEL POP!!!]






LVK: WHITE POWDER!!! RIGHT TO THE EYES OF GABRIEL WHITECROSS!!!

RP: Waru handed it to Stephens through the cage! They're always thinking!

LVK: You mean they're always *cheating*.

[With Whitecross's face covered in the white powder, and his sight momentarily taken away, 
Stephens steps through the ropes and grabs his head, standing back to back....]




*THUUUUUDDDD!!!!*




LVK: Neckbreaker by Stephens!

[As Stephens climbs back to his feet, Vasquez and Extreme continue to stomp away at Kinsey. 
Stephens rolls Whitecross onto his stomach, and then grabs at his right ankle, which he pulls
back on! SUBMISSION POP!!]

RP: TOMMY WITH AN ANKLELOCK ON WHITECROSS!!

LVK: But a submission at this stage doesn't matter - the match can't stop until all of the
wrestlers are in!

RP: Tommy doesn't care! He wants to join Rembrandt in the Ankle-Snapper club!

[Marc Gioffre begins telling Stephens to let go of the hold, but Tommy doesn't look ready to
do anything like that. He simply pulls back on it harder. Gioffre gets angry, and begins to
pull Stephens' arms away, trying to free the hold. Finally Stephens lets go, and climbs to 
his feet, pissed off at the official. He grabs Gioffre by the shirt, but doesn't see 
Whitecross roll onto his hands and knees behind him. In the blink of an eye, Whitecross grabs
Stephens' right leg and pulls it up, before pushing down on the ankle. The pressure sends 
Stephens toppling facefirst to the mat, as Whitecross really clamps on the hold good and hard!
BIG FACE POP!!!]

RP: OH CRAP!! THE FAMILY NAME ANKLELOCK!!!

LVK: AND TOMMY STEPHENS IS TAPPING OUT!! IT DOESN'T MATTER BECAUSE THE MATCH CAN'T END YET,
BUT GABRIEL WHITECROSS HAS STEPHENS IN A WORLD OF HURT!!!

[Crowd: OOOHHH!!]

RP: But there's Vasquez to make the save!

[With a vicious stomp to the back of the head, Vasquez breaks it up. But then suddenly the
cage door is unlocked, and it swings open....]

RP: Here comes the next member of Team Fletcher....

[HUGE FACE POP!!!]

LVK: DAN KAUFFMAN!!! THE LAST MAN TO HOLD THE NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP IS IN THE CAGE!!!

[Vasquez turns to see Kauffman running at him, but can't get out of the way of a huge 
clothesline. Extreme stops his stomping of Kinsey and turns to see what is happening, and
he too gets flattened by a clothesline from Kauffman. He drags Extreme back to his feet by
a handful of blood-soaked hair, and throws him over the two sets of ropes into the next ring,
before climbing up onto the top turnbuckle, and waiting for Extreme to struggle up to his 
feet. Extreme gets up, and Kauffman leaps onto him with a double-axehandle shot, but Extreme
sidesteps and rams a fist into the exposed midsection of his former mentor! POP!]

LVK: OH BOY! Down goes Dan Kauffman courtesy of a vicious punch to the midsection by Alex 
Extreme! The teacher and the student doing battle again!

[As Extreme pounds away on Kauffman, Whitecross gets back to his feet in the other ring, and
he starts to pound on Stephens in one corner. In the opposite corner, Kinsey lays into 
Vasquez. The two Team Fletcher members then turn, nod to each other, and whip Vasquez and 
Stephens out of the corners.....]





*THWAAACKKK!!!*





[BIG FACE POP!!!]





LVK: OH YEAH! VASQUEZ AND STEPHENS COLLIDE IN CENTER RING!!

RP: Dammit!

[In the other ring, Extreme sets Kauffman up for a vertical suplex, and hoists him into the 
air. But Kauffman wriggles free and falls to his feet behind his opponent. Extreme spins 
around, right into a front waistlock by Kauffman, who lifts, spins and drives him into the 
mat! POP!]

LVK: POWERPLANT SPINEBUSTER BY KAUFFMAN!!

[Leaving Extreme lying on the mat, Kauffman climbs into the other ring. He comes face to face
with his former arch-rival Luke Kinsey, and they stop inches apart, their eyes locked together.
A few feet away, Juan Vasquez gets to his feet, and approaches, but without even looking, 
Kinsey and Kauffman turn as one, and both unload with big right hands, connecting at the same
time and sending Vasquez crashing to the mat! BIG POP!!!]

RP: Well, I guess that means Kinsey and Kauffman are gonna try to work together.

LVK: Luke Kinsey gave his word to Mr Fletcher, and despite the fact that I've never really 
liked Kinsey's attitude, I've never known him to go back on his word.

[Extreme climbs back into the first ring, meaning all six wrestlers are now in the same ring.
He goes after Whitecross, nailing him with a forearm shot in mid-ring. Kauffman drags Vasquez
back to his feet and locks on a side-headlock, while Kinsey and Stephens start to trade blows.
Suddenly all three members of Team Fletcher grab their respective opponents by one arm, and 
in a moment of pure lucha libre, they whip them into the same set of ropes at the same time....]






*THUUUUUDDDDDDD!!!!*




*THUUUUUUUUDDDDD!!!!*




*THUUUUUUDDDDD!!!*





[THUNDEROUS FACE POP!!!]





RP: HOLY SCHNIKIES!!

LVK: SIMULTANEOUS BACK-BODYDROPS, SENDING VASQUEZ, STEPHENS AND EXTREME CRASHING TO THE MAT AT
THE SAME TIME!!!

[But that's not all. Kinsey, Kauffman and Whitecross all quickly grab their respective 
opponents - who are all down on the mat - by the legs, and start intertwining them....HUGE
SUBMISSION POP!!!]

RP: NO FREAKING WAY!!!

LVK: TRIPLE FIGURE FOUR LEGLOCKS!!! INCREDIBLE!!!

[The fans of course go absolutely nuts at the sight of three wrestlers simultaneously locking
figure four leglocks on their opponents! Vasquez, Stephens and Extreme start writhing and 
thrashing in pain.]

LVK: I can truly say I've *never* seen anything like this!

RP: Thank God! Time's up!

[The cage door is unlocked, swings open, and through it thunders a man on a mission....]

LVK: REMBRANDT!!

[Rembrandt thunders into the ring and plants a big boot down into the midsection of first 
Kauffman, then Kinsey, and finally Whitecross, all in quick succession, breaking all of the
figure four leglocks. Whitecross rolls to his feet, and is quickly met with a kick to the 
ribs by Rembrandt, who then just as quickly hooks on a rear waistlock....]






*THUUUUUUUUDDDDD!!!!*






RP: RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX!!!

[Kinsey is the next to run at Rembrandt, but Rembrandt simply drops to one knee and lashes out
with a palm-thrust to the midsection. This doubles Kinsey over, and Rembrandt follows up with
an axe kick to the back of the head, which drives Kinsey to the mat! STIFF SHOT POP!]

LVK: REMBRANDT'S ON FIRE!!

[Finally Kauffman comes face to face with Rembrandt, but he lets Rembrandt take the first
swing, with a roundhouse kick. Kauffman ducks it though, and Rembrandt falls back to his 
feet, but finds himself being grabbed by Kauffman....]







*THUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!!!!*







[FACE POP!!]







LVK: A DDT BY KAUFFMAN FINALLY STOPS REMBRANDT!!!

[Crowd: OOOOHHH!!]

RP: Yup, but Kauffman's got his own problems to worry about!

LVK: Namely that blatant low blow Juan Vasquez just hit him with!

[The tally stands at this - Rembrandt recovering on the mat, Kauffman on his knees in pain,
Vasquez getting to his feet, Stephens also getting up, Whitecross recovering in a far corner,
and Extreme and Kinsey now fighting in the other ring. Everyone but Kauffman and Rembrandt is
bleeding profusely, and Rembrandt only because his bandages have managed to stay on, unlike 
Vasquez's.]

LVK: This huge double cage structure is really living up the name Wargames, because the two 
rings look like a battlefield right now. The blood has flowed thick and fast, and we've got
seven men in there right now fighting for survival!

[Vasquez climbs to his feet and rams a knee into the side of Kauffman's head viciously. 
Stephens soon joins in on the fun, grabbing Kauffman by the head and placing it between his
knees. He then jumps up and lands back on his feet on the mat, the impact driving his knees
together against Kauffman's head. Vasquez walks the couple of steps to the nearby corner, and
begins climbing, and Stephens pulls Kauffman into a complete standing headscissor.]

LVK: What on earth are Vasquez and Stephens up to?

RP: Well, Kauffman is the defacto leader of Team Fletcher, so they're going right for the top!

[Vasquez stands on the second rope, facing into the ring, and Stephens lifts Kauffman's lower
body up. Vasquez grabs the legs and jumps....]









*THUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!*









[DEAFENING PROTEST/HEEL POP!!!]











LVK: OH MY...GOOD...GOD!!! A SPIKE PILEDRIVER BY STEPHENS AND VASQUEZ, AND DAN KAUFFMAN COULD
BE OUT COLD!!!

RP: Did you see how his neck bent when the top of his head hit the mat? Brutal!

[Stephens and Vasquez aren't done though. Stephens drags the limp Kauffman up again, as 
Vasquez returns to his spot on the second rope. Again Vasquez grabs the feet, and jumps....]












*THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!*











[EARTH-SHAKING SHOCK/PROTEST POP!!!]











RP: A SECOND SPIKE PILEDRIVER!!! THEY'RE TRYING TO KILL HIM!!!

LVK: I have a lot of faith in Dan Kauffman, but after *two* vicious spike piledrivers, I've
gotta think that his night is over.

[With Kauffman lying limp on the mat, Vasquez and Stephens share a little fist-to-fist.
Teamwork~! But their celebration is short-lived, as Whitecross comes running in, catching
Vasquez with a clothesline to the back of the head, sending him crashing into and through 
the two sets of ropes between the rings. Whitecross then grabs Stephens and begins pounding
away with punches. However, Stephens stops the onslaught with a deft thumb to the eye. In the
other ring, Kinsey sends Extreme to the mat with a hiptoss, and follows up with a jumping 
elbowsmash across his chest.]

LVK: This is not looking good at all for Team Fletcher. First Chris Courtade has to pull out
of the match after the beating he took at the hands of Vasquez and Rembrandt, and now Dan 
Kauffman is lying on the mat unconscious. 

RP: Ain't it great? This is the night Miss Cherry proves her dominance over RCW!

LVK: I hate to say it, but I don't see a way for Team Fletcher to come back from this.

[Stephens grabs Whitecross by the hair and throws him facefirst into the cage. Whitecross 
bounces back to his feet, so Stephens does it again, and this time the Era of Defiance crashes
to the mat.]

RP: Tommy's getting some payback from getting catapulted into the cage three times earlier. 

LVK: Whitecross now bleeding not only from his head, but also from his mouth. 

[Whitecross spits a big wad of blood onto the mat as he climbs to his hands and knees. With a 
look of complete determination on his face, Stephens walks over and drives his right foot up
into the ribs of Whitecross, sending Gabriel spinning over onto his back. Stephens follows up
by simply dropping a knee down onto Whitecross's bloody forehead.]

RP: Isn't it ironic that Whitecross trained Mark Langseth....and Langseth then trained Tommy
Stephens, and now Tommy's beating the crap out of his mentor's mentor? 

LVK: Tommy Stephens is clearly unhappy about being thrown into the cage three times earlier,
and about being made to tap out by the anklelock. But he's taking advantage of the match rules
- he knows that nothing matters until all tthe wrestlers are in the ring. 

RP: Exactly. It's all about who's standing at the end, and I like the way Tommy's wrestling
this match. 

[In the other ring, Vasquez has now joined in the battle between Kinsey and Extreme, swinging
the advantage back to Extreme. They send Kinsey into the ropes, and catch him as he comes off,
lifting him into a double flapjack, but then spinning so that Kinsey pendulums and falls 
backfirst to the mat!]

LVK: Wow, what a move by Vasquez and Extreme! Who would have thought those two could work well
together?

RP: I didn't think Juan could work well with anyone but himself, but he's proving me wrong
tonight!

LVK: The time period has expired, and with no sign of Chris Courtade, there's just one Team
Fletcher member to come in here!

[The cage door opens, and Madison J. Valentine comes rushing in. He starts to lay into 
Rembrandt with a series of punches, catching the dazed Team Cherry member offguard. He sends
Rembrandt crashing facefirst into the top turnbuckle, which sends him toppling to the mat. MJV
then rushes at Tommy Stephens, knocking him flat with a clothesline. FACE POP!!!]

LVK: The numbers are evened up again, but not really, because Dan Kauffman is still down and
in a bad way. 

RP: And no Chris Courtade! This is it for Team Fletcher! Devon Case's coming in next, and then
it's all over!

[Seeing Kinsey getting manhandled in the other ring, MJV rushes over to the double set of
ropes, and slingshots himself up onto the closest set. He springboards off, soars through the
air, and comes crashing down with a flying forearm onto Vasquez's face, knocking the River
City champion flat!! MJV kips up to his feet, but is suddenly met with a flying leg lariat
from Extreme, knocking him down. Extreme turns, and he too is met offguard, by a flying
headscissors from Luke Kinsey! POP!]

LVK: What a flurry of action in the far ring, and now Extreme, Kinsey, Vasquez, Valentine -
they're *all* down!

[In the near ring, Kauffman staggers back to his feet, now bloody and clearly in a 
disorientated daze. He swings a blind punch at a big patch of thin air, then another, which
Rembrandt easily avoids. Rembrandt then jumps into the air, swinging his legs around so that
the leading foot catches Kauffman brutally across the back of the head! STIFF SHOT POP!!]

RP: YE GOD! WHAT AN ENZUIGIRI!!

LVK: And now Dan Kauffman is back in la-la land! He has really been taken out of this match by
Team Cherry, who obviously view him as the heart of Team Fletcher!

[With Kauffman facedown on the mat and not moving, Rembrandt climbs back to his feet and goes
back to helping Stephens beat on Gabriel Whitecross. In the other ring, Vasquez is back to 
his feet, and he drags Kinsey up, throwing him through the double set of ropes into the near
ring, before climbing through himself.]

LVK: Even though the numbers are even, Team Cherry clearly has the advantage right now, and
they still have Devon Case to come!

RP: Ain't it great? I'm loving this!

[Vasquez drags Kinsey to his feet again, and whips him into the far corner. Kinsey hits hard
backfirst, and Vasquez rushes in, jumping up into the air with his right knee on target with
Kinsey's head....]







*THWAAPPP!!*







*CLAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!*







[HUGE FACE POP!!!]








RP: ARRRRGGHHHH!!!!

LVK: KINSEY MOVED, AND VASQUEZ HIT THE TOP TURNBUCKLE WITH HIS KNEE, BEFORE COLLIDING HEADFIRST
WITH THE STEEL CAGE!! INCREDIBLE!!

RP: Juan hit facefirst! He's gotta be....hey, what's Kinsey doing?

LVK: I think Vasquez's impact with the top turnbuckle might have loosened the top rope! 

[With the top rope sagging noticeably, Kinsey begins working on the turnbuckle. A few seconds
later he rips it free, and the whole top rope falls to the floor. All that is left is a 
foot-long metal rod sticking out from the ringpost, which Kinsey pulls free with a hefty tug.
GIANT-SIZED HARDCORE POP!!!]

LVK: GOOD GOD!!! LUKE KINSEY HAS A METAL ROD!!!

[Kinsey, bleeding buckets and staggering like a drunk man, turns and swings the rod blindly, 
missing everybody. But then Rembrandt rushes in....]






*THWAAAAAATTTTTTT!!!!*







[HUMONGOUS HARDCORE POP!!!!]






RP: ARGGGGHHHHH!!!! HE NAILED REMBRANDT IN THE HEAD WITH THE METAL ROD!!!

[Kinsey turns 180 degrees, as Stephens rushes at him....]








*THWAAAAAAAAATTTTTT!!!!*








[ANOTHER HUGE HARDCORE POP!!!]









LVK: AND NOW STEPHENS GOES DOWN AFTER TAKING THE METAL ROD TO THE MIDSECTION!!! LUKE KINSEY 
IS HITTING ANYTHING THAT MOVES!!!

[Kinsey takes another step with the rod, swings blindly, missing everything, and then simply
flops forward, hitting the mat facefirst. The blood-splattered mat in the near ring now 
features the bloody and beaten figures of Kinsey, Vasquez, Stephens, Rembrandt, Kauffman and
Whitecross. In the far ring, Extreme and Valentine are doing battle, oblivious to what's been
happening in other ring. Extreme backs MJV into the ropes, and then leaps up and nails him 
with a dropkick, sending MJV flying over the top rope. He hits the cage siding and falls down
between it and the ropes, as Extreme also stays down.]

LVK: MY GOD! All eight wrestlers who are currently in this match are down! 

RP: They oughta call this match Wargames: The Massacre in Memphis!

LVK: I don't think I've *ever* seen this much blood in one match, in all of my 10 years of 
announcing!

[As Valentine lies awkwardly between the cage and the ropes, a figure comes surging through
the crowded aisleway! HEEL POP!!!]

RP: VANGUARD!! 

[Brandishing his nightstick in both hands, Eric Vanguard heads to the piece of cage where MJV
is. He lines himself up, and then thrusts the nightstick through the cage into Valentine's 
ribs, bringing a loud howl of pain from Em Jiggy Vee! BIG HEEL POP!!!]

LVK: ERIC VANGUARD ISN'T EVEN IN THIS MATCH, AND HE'S PUNISHING THOSE INJURED RIBS OF MADISON
J. VALENTINE!!

RP: Man, this hatred between Valentine and Vanguard just keeps reaching new levels! They plain
hate each other!

[Several more thrusts of the nightstick meet with MJV's ribs, until finally Valentine finds a
way to crawl through the ropes back into the ring. At that moment, security arrives to escort
Vanguard from the area, but the damage is already done. Valentine rolls from side to side on
the mat, clutching at his ribs, agonized groans escaping from between clenched teeth.]

LVK: Madison J. Valentine looks like he's really hurt! 

RP: Yeah, those ribs took a beating at the hands of Vanguard a week ago, and again in their
match earlier tonight, and this latest incident looks to have really finished the job.

LVK: The news doesn't get any better for Team Fletcher, because here comes Devon Case!

[A big HEEL POP goes up as the cage door is unlocked, and Devon Case climbs in. He heads
straight for Dan Kauffman, who is finally getting back to his feet in a daze. Case wastes
no time in starting to pound away at Kauffman with punches, each strike rocking Kauffman and 
threatening to cause his wobbly legs to give way. But Case stops before he falls, grabbing 
Kauffman by the head and running across the ring....]





*THUUUUUUUUDDDDDD!!!!*




LVK: Running bulldog from Devon Case, and it's clear that he's only really concerned about one
thing, or should I say, one man. The man who beat him for the National title at Glory!

RP: Do you have to remind me?

[Case gets to his feet, and stands over Kauffman, gesturing for him to get up. Kauffman climbs
to one knee, but then falls back to the mat, the toll of the match, especially the two spike 
piledrivers, proving too much for him. But Case's attention is suddenly taken away by Luke
Kinsey, who grabs Devon by the shoulder, spins him around, and grabs his head....]





*THUUUDDDDDD!!!!!*




[FACE POP!!]




LVK: SWINGING NECKBREAKER BY LUKE KINSEY!!

[Kinsey and Case both stay down, but Rembrandt and Whitecross are now back to their feet. They
start to swap stinging knife-edge chops....]




*THWACK!*



[Crowd: WHOOOO!!!]




*THWACK!*



[Crowd: WHOOOO!!!]




*THWACK!*



[Crowd: WHOOOO!!!]




*THWACK!*



[Crowd: WHOOOO!!!]




*THWACK!*



[Crowd: WHOOOO!!!]




LVK: They're both drenched in their own blood, exhausted beyond belief, but Rembrandt and 
Gabriel Whitecross are standing toe-to-toe, refusing to take a backward step!

[Rembrandt lashes out with a kick, but Whitecross blocks it with his shin. Rembrandt tries 
again, but again it is blocked. But then suddenly behind them Alex Extreme clambers to the 
top turnbuckle, climbing from the far ring, and launches into the air towards them.....]







*THUUUU-THUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!!*








[HIGHSPOT POP!!!!]








LVK: EXTREME WITH A MOONSAULT BODYBLOCK ONTO BOTH WHITECROSS *AND* REMBRANDT!!!

RP: Miss Cherry looks livid about Extreme taking out his own teammate!!

[As Whitecross, Extreme and Rembrandt recover on the mat, Vasquez climbs back to his feet and 
spots MJV climbing to his feet slowly in the far ring. He immediately climbs through the
double set of ropes into that ring. Vasquez goes straight for the knockout punch, grabbing 
the dazed and pain-ridden MJV by the head and throwing him headlong into the cage!]






*CLAAAAAAAAANNNNNNKKKKK!!!!!*







LVK: There's yet another collision between wrestler and cage! This steel structure is literally
dripping with blood!

[Valentine goes down, and Vasquez drags him back to his feet, and this time doesn't fully 
throw him into the cage, instead dragging him close to it, and then ramming his forehead into
it....]




*CLAAANNKK!!!*




*CLAAANNKK!!!*




*CLANNNKKKK!!!*




*CLAAANNKKKK!!!*




[BIG-ASS POP!!]




RP: HOLY CRAP!!! VALENTINE'S STILL ON HIS FEET!!!

LVK: And Vasquez can't quite believe it!

[Vasquez, getting a little bit frustrated, drags MJV and throws him back into the cage 
headlong.....]







*CLAAAAAAAANNNNNNKKKKKK!!!!!*






[...and this time Valentine goes down. But he rolls straight back to his feet, his glazed-over
eyes staring out from beneath a thick layer of blood, which is splattered over his upper body.
Then MJV stares right at Vasquez and gestures for more! HUGE FACE POP!!!]

LVK: INCREDIBLE!! VALENTINE HAS BEEN BATTERED FROM PILLAR TO POST, AND HE STILL STANDS 
DEFIANT!!!

[Vasquez's eyes grow wide in shock as he sees the fight Em Jiggy Vee still has in him. He
snaps out of it though, grabbing MJV by the arm and sending him into the ropes. MJV ducks
under a clothesline attempt, stops and spins. Vasquez also spins on the spot....]






*THWAAAAAACCCCCKKKKKK!!!!!!*







[DEAFENING FACE POP!!!!]







LVK: OOOOOOHHHHHH!!!! SILVER BULLET SUPERKICK!!!!

RP: How the hell does he still have the energy?

[After the kick, MJV takes a step forward, and then falls to the mat.]

LVK: I think that probably took the last of Valentine's energy!

RP: Well, the second referee is indicating that the time period's up. No Chris Courtade - so,
does that mean the sudden death period starts now?

LVK: I guess it does. Wait...second referee Teddy Lancaster is starting a count. I guess once
this count is over, the sudden death begins!


*TEN!*



*NINE!*



*EIGHT!*



*SEVEN!*



*SIX!*



*FIVE!*



*FOUR!*



*THREE!*



LVK: No sign of him. 



*TWO!*



LVK: That's it. The sud-







#F**k you because I can#





[GET OUT THE RICHTER SCALE, 'CAUSE THAT'S A MOTHERF**KING FACE POP!!!!]





RP: WHAT?!

[As the entire arena rises in unison in the biggest face pop of the night, and "Natural Born
Killaz" blares over the PA, Courtade comes rumbling down the narrow aisle, pushing through 
the sea of outstretched hands. It's obvious that the Legend Killer isn't 100% - his neck 
sports a large black-and-purple bruise around the front, and clean stitches have only 
recently been put into his forehead - but the fire burning in Courtade's eyes is unmistakable.]

LVK: I DON'T BELIEVE IT!! THE LEGEND KILLER IS HERE - HE'S CLIMBING INTO THE CAGE!!!

RP: Oh....sh[bleep]...

[The door is slammed behind Courtade and locked by Teddy Lancaster, who signals to indicate
the Sudden Death Period is underway. But Courtade doesn't see any of that - his focus is 
locked on Rembrandt, who climbs to his feet just in time to meet the oncoming freighttrain
known as Chris Courtade.....]





*THWAAAACCCKKKKKK!!!!*





[BIG FACE POP!!!]





LVK: DEAR GOD!!! WHAT A LARIAT BY COURTADE!!!

[With the fans going beserk, Courtade turns to find Tommy Stephens coming at him with the iron
bar that Kinsey was wielding earlier. Courtade ducks Tommy's shot, and then spins....]







*THWAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!!*







LVK: AND TOMMY STEPHENS GETS THE SAME TREATMENT!!!

[Courtade next sees Alex Extreme getting to his feet, and slams a right hand into his head,
before quickly wrenching Extreme into a standing headscissor. Without hesitation Courtade 
swings the former National champ into the air....]








*THUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!*










LVK: AND NOW A HIGH IMPACT POWERBOMB FOR ALEX EXTREME!!! CHRIS COURTADE IS HELLBENT ON A PATH 
OF DESTRUCTION!!!

[Standing over the downed figure of Alex Extreme, Courtade slowly turns and his eyes lock onto
a target in the other ring. A target who is slowly getting to his feet. A target by the name
of....]

LVK: VASQUEZ!!! COURTADE SEES VASQUEZ - HOLD ONTO YOUR SEATS!!!

[With the crowd noise escalating to a new high, Courtade climbs through the double set of
ropes, his eyes never leaving his target. Vasquez doesn't realise what's going on at first,
but then turns, and his eyes grow as wide as saucers as he sees the advancing Texan. Dropping
to his knees instantly, Juan does what he does best - he begs for his life!]

LVK: JUAN VASQUEZ JUST LOOKED INTO THE EYES OF A MAN WHO HAS BEEN SENT OVER THE EDGE!! A MAN
WITH DEADLY INTENT!!

RP: Oh crap....run Juan! RUN!

[While this is happening, MJV climbs into the other ring, and Extreme makes his way into the
one where Courtade and Vasquez are. He sneaks up behind Courtade as the big Texan inches 
closer and closer to the cowering River City champion. Extreme reaches out, grabs Courtade's
shoulder, and spins him around, before unloading with a big right hand!]

RP: Uh oh.

[A HUGE FREAKING FACE POP goes up as the punch has no effect. Not even a flinch out of 
Courtade. Extreme drops his hand, his mouth dropping open in shocked panic, and he freezes
on the spot. Courtade takes a step forward, stares right at Extreme, and then unloads!]

[Crowd: BOOOMMM!!!]

LVK: A BIG RIGHT HAND, AND EXTREME GOES DOWN LIKE A TON OF BRICKS!!!

[Crowd: OOOHHHH!!!]

RP: Ah-HA! But Juan with the equalizer!

LVK: Yet another low blow! Team Cherry continues to sink to new lows!

[Having snuck up behind Courtade and planted him with a groin shot from behind, Vasquez 
staggers to his feet, looking totally relieved to have dodged a bullet. He walks over drags
Extreme up to his feet, the two of them wobbling on unsteady legs. Then, the crowd comes 
alive with an instant FACE POP FROM HELL as Courtade rolls to his feet, and Vasquez and 
Extreme turn to see it happening. A second later, Courtade thunders forward....]









*THWAAAAAAAACCCCKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!*









[HUGE FACE/SHOCK POP!!!!]









LVK: OOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!!! VASQUEZ PULLED EXTREME IN THE WAY OF THE COURTADE LARIAT!!! HE 
SACRIFICED HIS TEAMMATE TO SAVE HIS OWN HIDE!!

[Sensing that he just pulled one over on Courtade, Vasquez turns to the crowd and taps his
right index finger against his forehead, indicating that he's the smarter man. But he winces
and cringes, and then rubs at his temple through the bandages, before turning.....]







*THWAAAAACCCCKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!*







[HUGE FACE POP!!!!!]








LVK: BUT VASQUEZ TASTES THE HARDEST GODDAMNED LARIAT IN THE SPORT!!! HE EVADED IT MOMENTARILY,
BUT STILL GOT IT IN THE END!!!

[As Courtade mounts Vasquez and begins ripping at the bandages on his head, Madison J. 
Valentine climbs to the top turnbuckle of the other ring, then steps over onto the top 
turnbuckle of the ring which Courtade and Vasquez are in. Extreme is also in it, still down
on the mat, and MJV lines him up, and then leaps, drawing his legs and arms under him, and
then thrusting them out as he falls.....]










*THUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!*












[SHOCK POP!!!]












LVK: OH MY GOD!!! VALENTINE WENT FOR HIS AIR VALENTINE FROG SPLASH, BUT EXTREME MOVED!!! THAT
HAD TO DAMAGE HIS INJURED RIBS EVEN MORE!!!

[Indeed, MJV writhes on the mat, clutching again at his ribs in agonizing pain. In the other
ring, Case and Kauffman are both back up, and Case sets up Kauffman in a standing headscissor.
He tries to lift him, but Kauffman fights it, and then counters with a back-bodydrop. He drags
Case to his feet and throws him into the other ring, before climbing in after him. Once in 
there, he starts to go for a Fujiwara armbar, but Case fights his way out, and nails a kick
to the gut, before hooking Kauffman's head....]







*THUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!!!!!*









[SHOCK POP!!!]











RP: THE STRIP!!! CASE NAILED KAUFFMAN WITH THE STRIP!!!

LVK: But again, there are no pinfalls, just submissions and surrender!

[Case gets to his feet, but right into the clutches of Gabriel Whitecross, who has also made
his way into the far ring. Whitecross sends Case into the ropes, and launches him into the air
in a flapjack lift. On the way down, Whitecross grabs his head and drives him into the mat 
with a Diamond Cutter-like jawbreaker move....]








*THUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDD!!!!!!*











[BIG ASS FACE POP!!!!]










LVK: What a move by Whitecross....AND NOW HE'S ROLLING IT INTO DRAGON SLEEPER-TYPE HOLD!!! HE
CALLS THIS HOLD 'DAMNATION'!!!

RP: OH CRAP!!!

LVK: THIS COULD BE IT!! THIS COULD BE-




*THWAAAATTTT!!!!*




[ALMIGHTY PROTEST POP!!!!]




LVK: OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! REMBRANDT WITH THAT IRON ROD ACROSS WHITECROSS'S HEAD!!!

RP: Great save!!

[Courtade has ripped the bandages off of Vasquez's head, and he has the groggy River City 
champion up against the ropes. He holds Vasquez up with one hand, and lifts the other into 
the air....]

RP: NO!! NOT THAT AGAIN!!!

[But before Courtade can lock on the Iron Claw again, Rembrandt comes running over with the
iron rod....]






*THWAAAAAAATTTTTT!!!!!*






[MEGA PROTEST POP!!!!]










LVK: NOOO!!! REMBRANDT WITH THAT IRON ROD, DRIVING IT RIGHT INTO COURTADE'S BACK!!!

RP: Chris Courtade should have stayed in the hospital!

[As Courtade falls forward to the mat in a heap of pain, Rembrandt turns and sees MJV lying
on the mat, clutching at his ribs in agony. Extreme also rolls to his feet, and he and 
Rembrandt converge on Valentine. The ring looks like a warzone, with Courtade, Vasquez,
Kauffman, Whitecross and Case all sprawled out on the mat.]

LVK: Oh no! Extreme is signalling to Rembrandt that Valentine's ribs are injured. I think 
they're going to go right after his weakness!

[That's exactly what they do. Rembrandt tosses the iron rod to Extreme, and grabs both of 
Valentine's arms, stretching them out and holding them against the mat. Extreme then stands
over MJV, the rod in both hands, and thrusts it downwards into the ribs! DEAFENING PROTEST
POP!!!]

RP: OH MAN!! THAT'S BRUTAL!!!

[Vasquez staggers back to his feet, and joins in on the fun. He takes the bar from Extreme,
and yells down at MJV to give up. When no surrender comes, Vasquez drives the rod down into
the ribs again. Still no surrender, so he drives it a third time.]

LVK: Incredible!! Madison J. Valentine is refusing to surrender, despite the fact that he has 
to be in ungodly pain!

RP: He's gonna *have* to give up - Juan'll just keep driving that rod in until ribs start 
breaking! No man's going to hold out through that!

[As the torture of Valentine continues, Stephens and Kinsey find themselves alone in the other
ring. Stephens sends Kinsey into the ropes, and scoops him up in a sideslam position. But 
Kinsey spins right through it and lands on his feet. Stephens turns, and Kinsey grabs him in
a front chancery. But Stephens rams his free hand up into Kinsey's chest, and breaks his other
arm free, locking Kinsey into a front facelock. In an instant Stephens jumps up and falls back
to the mat.....]







*THUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!!!!*






LVK: OH! Look in the other ring! Tommy Stephens just nailed Luke Kinsey with a DDT!!!

RP: But Juan's signalling for Tommy to come and help them make Valentine surrender! He knows
that they've got MJV on the brink, whereas it's going to take a lot of work to get Kinsey to
surrender!

LVK: But Stephens is shaking his head! He wants to finish off Kinsey!

[Stephens hoists Kinsey up onto the top turnbuckle, and then climbs up, hooking Kinsey for a
superplex. But with Stephens standing on the second turnbuckle, Kinsey breaks free with a 
punch, knocking Tommy back to the mat. Tommy gets up and runs back to the corner, but straight
into Kinsey's right boot. This turns Stephens around, and Kinsey quickly grabs his head in an
inverted facelock, and pushes out of the corner. He spins and swings, before coming down to 
the mat with an inverted tornado DDT!! BIG FACE POP!!!]

LVK: EGO TRIP!!! KINSEY NAILED THE MOVE HE CALLS THE EGO TRIP!!!

RP: Dammit! I knew Tommy should have gone and helped with Valentine! His damn ego got the
better of him!

LVK: WAIT!! KINSEY'S ROLLING STEPHENS OVER...GRABBING HIS LEGS....

[BIG-ASS FACE POP as Kinsey quickly locks Stephens in a cloverleaf leglock, and then pulls 
back on it extra hard.]

LVK: MOONLIGHT DRIVE!!! KINSEY HAS STEPHENS LOCKED IN THE MOONLIGHT DRIVE!!!

[Marc Gioffre, who had been watching the three-man torture of MJV for a submission or
surrender, suddenly sees what is going on in the other ring and dives through the ropes. 
He skids to a stop inches from Stephens' face, which is contorted with pain and effort. 
Gioffre asks the question......]











[SHAKE-THE-FOUNDATIONS FACE POP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]











LVK: STEPHENS TAPPED!!! STEPHENS TAPPED!!!! TEAM FLETCHER WINS!!!! 

RP: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Vasquez, Rembrandt and Extreme suddenly realise what is happening, but it's too late to do 
anything. Vasquez drops the iron rod, and kicks at the ropes, while Rembrandt climbs into the
other ring angrily. Kinsey isn't about to stick around - he hastily makes his exit, where he
is greeted by a jubilant Fletcher on the ringside floor.]

LVK: WHAT AN INCREDIBLE MATCH!!! TEAM FLETCHER HAS COME BACK FROM INCREDIBLE ODDS TO WIN IT,
AND MISS CHERRY IS LIVID!!!

[In stark contrast to Fletcher's broad smile, Miss Cherry is fuming, slamming her hands 
against the cage in frustration. Back in the cage, Gabriel Whitecross gets to his feet in 
the confusion, and quickly grabs Valentine, dragging him from the ring. Kauffman also slides
into the other ring, and makes his exit, joining Kinsey, Whitecross and Fletcher in 
celebration! MJV is too pained to celebrate, and he is led away by Teddy Lancaster to seek
medical attention. The fans share in the jubilation, keeping up their HUGE FACE POP!!!]

RP: I can't believe it! They had Valentine ready to give up any second....I blame Tommy 
Stephens! He should have stuck with the team, instead of going for individual glory!

LVK: Devon Case is back up now, and he's getting right in the face of Stephens! He's pissed
that Stephens lost the match for Team Cherry!

[Case and Stephens argue animatedly, but Case finally turns to walk away. Stephens turns
away as well, but this is what Case wanted, as he quickly turns back and hooks Stephens by 
the head....]





*THUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD!!!!!*





LVK: CASE NAILED STEPHENS WITH THE STRIP, SHOWING HIS ANGER AT LOSING THE MATCH!!!

[Miss Cherry climbs into the cage, and looks on his shock at what Case just did. Devon simply
walks past her, shooting her an angry and disrespectual glare as he passes, before leaving up
the aisle. Team Fletcher - minus Courtade, who is still down in the cage - continue to 
celebrate with the crowd.]

RP: We all thought it was Team Fletcher which would have problems working together, but it 
turned out to be Team Cherry that came apart when it mattered most!

LVK: LOOKOUT!! COURTADE'S BACK UP AND LOOKING READY TO KILL SOMEONE!!

[The fans POP bigtime as the bloody Courtade suddenly has his hands on Vasquez, and Juan can
do nothing but cower and prepare to be decimated. But, as the story of Courtade's night has
been, Rembrandt breaks it up with a forearm shot to the back of Courtade's head, followed by
a stiff kick to the head, which drives the Legend Killer down to one knee.]

LVK: Any time Chris Courtade has had his hands on Juan Vasquez tonight, someone has come in
to save Vasquez's hide! 

RP: Hey! Juan has the iron rod!

LVK: Not that damn rod! Someone's going to get killed!






*THWAAATTTTT!!!*






RP: ONE SHOT TO THE GUT!!!







*THWAAAAATTTTTT!!!!!*







RP: AND ANOTHER ACROSS THE BACK!!!

LVK: Wait just a GODDAMN MINUTE!!! MISS CHERRY IS LOCKING THE CAGE!!! SHE HAS THE KEYS!!!

RP: Courtade's screwed now! He's in there with four guys who hate his guts, and there's no way
for anyone to save him!!

[Courtade is dragged back to his feet by Vasquez and Rembrandt, hardly able to stand on his
own. He swings blindly, but the punch misses its target. Rembrandt catches him with a short
and sharp kick to the gut, doubling Courtade over, and then pulls him into a standing
headscissor. Grabbing Courtade by the midsection, Rembrandt lifts his legs into the air,
and Vasquez grabs them.....]










*THUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!*










RP: SPIKE PILEDRIVER!!! JUAN AND REMY DO THAT BETTER THAN JUST ABOUT ANYONE I'VE EVER SEEN!!!

[Security is by now trying to get into the cage, but Miss Cherry simply smiles inside the door
and waves the keys at them mockingly. Rembrandt and Vasquez drag the super-groggy Courtade
back up, and this time Vasquez puts him in the standing headscissor. He lifts, Rembrandt grabs
the legs.....]









*THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!*










LVK: AND ANOTHER!!! THIS IS SICKENING!!! AS IF VASQUEZ AND REMBRANDT HAVEN'T DONE ENOUGH TO
CHRIS COURTADE TONIGHT!!

RP: Well, he chose to come back here and compete in this match. He should have stayed in the
hospital, but he didn't, so now he gets what he deserves!

LVK: No man deserves this much! And certainly not two-on-one!

[Dragging Courtade up again, Vasquez grabs him by the back of the head and throws him headfirst
into the cage. Courtade isn't even able to get his hands up, as he smashes into the steel 
structure and flops back to the mat like a ragdoll - a blood-drenched ragdoll.]

LVK: Somebody please put a stop to this!

RP: Who? The cage's locked!

[Miss Cherry climbs into the same ring as the action, and reaches into her blouse~!]

LVK: What is she doing?

RP: HANDCUFFS! SHE HAS HANDCUFFS!!

LVK: Oh...God.

[She throws the cuffs to Vasquez, and slaps them around Courtade's left hand, then hooking the
other part around the cage, just above the top rope. This leaves Courtade slumped in a sitting
position, one arm strung skyward. Vasquez takes a step back and smiles sadistically, and then
bends down and grabs the iron rod!]

LVK: NO! NO!! THIS HAS TO STOP!!!

[Vasquez doesn't use the rod as a bludgeoning weapon this time though. He holds it length-ways
in both hands, and strikes downward, right into the blood-drenched open cuts on the top of 
Courtade's forehead! GIANT-SIZED PROTEST POP!!]

RP: Fletcher's team may have won the match, but this night belongs to Miss Cherry's boys! Juan
Vasquez, Rembrandt, Tommy Stephens - they've made a strong statement here tonight Van Keel. 
There's a new force to be reckoned with here in RCW, and anyone who gets in their way is going
to end up just like Mark Langseth, just like Madison J. Valentine....and just like this piece
of redneck trash!

[Having driven the rod repeatedly into the shredded flesh of Courtade's forehead, Vasquez 
pauses for breath, and steps away, dropping the blood-covered rod to the mat. Somehow Courtade
grabs hold of the top rope with his free hand and tries to lift himself to his feet, but that
is stopped short by a knee to the face from Rembrandt. Vasquez catches his breath, and brings
a hand up to his face, to rub away some of the blood. He brings his hand back away, and looks
down at it...then at Courtade's, and back at his own. Suddenly something seems to click in 
Vasquez's head.....]

LVK: Vasquez has a look of complete insanity in his eyes - what the hell's going on?

RP: I could swear his expression just got colder as he looked at Courtade's free hand.

[Pushing Rembrandt aside, Vasquez grabs Courtade's free hand by the wrist....and pulls back
on a finger....]












*snaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap!*












[Stunned silence.]














RP: Uh....oh......HOLY F[bleep]IN' SH[bleep]!!! F[bleep]!!!

LVK: DEAR GOD - TELL ME HE DIDN'T DO IT!!! TELL ME HE DIDN'T JUST BREAK CHRIS COURTADE'S
FINGER WITH HIS BARE HANDS?!?

[Most of the fans are shocked into complete silence, but some let rip with SHOCK POP as 
Courtade begins grunting with pain, pulling his hand to his chest and letting loose short
screams of pain. Vasquez simply continues to stare down with a maniacal wide-eyed look on
his face, and then he grabs the hand again....]










*snaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap!!*










RP: ANOTHER FINGER!!! JUAN HAS LOST IT COMPLETELY!!! IT WAS THE CLAW!!! THE CLAW SENT HIM
OVER THE EDGE!!!

LVK: I'm....I....

RP: TWO FINGERS!!! COMPLETELY BROKEN - THE BONES SNAPPED BY JUAN VASQUEZ!!

[Vasquez undoes the handcuffs, letting Courtade fall to the mat, now just groaning in a 
pain-induced trance. Juan stands over him, his face a mask of unadulterated insanity, the 
usually cocky Vasquez replaced by something akin to a serial killer after a kill. He stays 
still for a moment, but then simply raises his right foot.....]







*TH-CRCCCKKKK!!!!*






[....bringing it down on the twisted and broken hand, eliciting a loud scream of pain from the 
Legend Killer.]

LVK: I....I think I'm going to be sick.

RP: TAKE A LOOK RCW!!! TAKE A LOOK AT THE NEW STANDARD!!! GET IN THE WAY OF THIS BAND OF
MONSTERS AND YOU COULD BE NEXT!!!!

[Finally breaking out into a smile, Juan turns and pats Rembrandt on the shoulder for a job
well done, before thrusting his arms into the air triumphantly. HUGE STUNNED HEEL POP!!!]

LVK: That's....uh....we really need to...go....

RP: SEE YOU NEXT WEEK! WHAT A NIGHT!! WHAT A FRIGGIN' NIGHT!!

[Fade to black with a final shot of Vasquez, Rembrandt, Miss Cherry and now Tommy Stephens,
celebrating in the cage.]



(c) RCW Incorporated, 2002.