[Cut to the main credits. The high-tempo heavy guitar riff of Black Sabbath's "The Mob Rules" thrashes away as we see footage from previous RCW matches...] # Close the city and tell the people that # something's coming to call # Death and darkness are rushing forward to # take a bite from the wall, oh [...Dave Bryant spears Orin LeBlanc into the ringsteps!... Paul Driscoll and Johnny Pleasence slug it out in the middle of the ring, the fans in the arena coming to their feet...] # You've nothing to say # They're breaking away # If you listen to fools... # The mob rules # The mob rules [...Lord Byron hits Liam Cassidy with the Coup De Grace inverted DDT neckbreaker... Orin LeBlanc hits the Beast's Burden on Ryan Faith...] # Kill the spirit and you'll be blinded, # the end is always the same # Play with fire, you burn your fingers and # lose your hold of the flame, oh [...Nolan Dorado launches himself off the ring barrier with his Golden Guillotine forward somersault, landing hard with his leg across Carmazzi's throat!...] # It's over, it's done # The end is begun # If you listen to fools... # The mob rules [...Liam Cassidy slips behind Lord Byron, and as Byron spins around, he is caught by a vicious right hook from Cassidy...] # You've nothing to say # Oh, they're breaking away # If you listen to fools... [...Vinny Carmazzi, his face and upper body covered in his own blood, launches himself backwards from on top of the steel cage, his body arcing in a beautiful moonsault, landing hard on Paul Driscoll...] # Break the circle and stop the movement, # the wheel is thrown to the ground # Just remember it might start rolling and # take you right back around [...Johnny Pleasence tosses the ring steps into the crowd, trying to take out some fans... Pleasence stands with the blood-stained RCW Championship belt held aloft...] # You're all fools! # The mob rules! [...the logo crashes onto the screen in an explosion of sparks and flame:] ___ ______ __ ___ ___ __ ______ ___ _________ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / _ \/ _ | / |/ / _ \/ _ |/ ___/ __/ / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / / , _/ __ |/ /|_/ / ___/ __ / (_ / _/ /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ /_/|_/_/ |_/_/ /_/_/ /_/ |_\___/___/ LIVE! Rose Garden, Portland, OR Thursday 12 October 2006 [The logo explodes through the screen, revealing behind it a wide shot of the jam-packed Rose Garden in downtown Portland. Pyro ignites from the rigging above the ring, showers of sparks raining down on the blue canvas of the squared circle far below. Deafening explosions drown out Black Sabbath over the PA as volley after volley of fireworks erupt from the rigging over the aisle, finally resulting in a huge explosion from the surround of the giant screen at the head of the entranceway! Once the explosions subside, we hear the voice of RCW, Don Ditka:] DD: Welcome everybody to beautiful Portland, Oregon! Welcome to the sold-out Rose Garden arena! [The camera tracks down the aisle, past the shore of the sea of faces: fans are wearing RCW apparel -- Ryan Faith's "GOT FAITH?" t-shirt, Vinny Carmazzi's "NO EXCUSES" t-shirt, the Owen Curtis green visor -- and holding up home-made banners and signs -- "FLASH ME EDDIE", "PLEASENCE FEARS COLEMAN", "SUPREME DRUNK" -- all of the fans are pumped up, shouting and gesticulating at the camera. The shot finally comes to rest on the broadcast table, in front of which stand Ditka and "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare. Ditka is dressed in his usual RCW open-necked shirt, and Shakespeare is dressed in a denim jacket with a "tragicomic" mask emblem embroidered on the lapel, and a plain black t-shirt underneath. Both men are holding microphones.] DD: Welcome everybody to RCW RAMPAGE! I'm Don Ditka, and alongside me as always is my broadcast colleague, "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare. And, folks, you are tuned into the hottest, hardest-hitting hour of television anywhere. It's great to be here tonight, Billy. BS: It's *always* great to be here, Don, in front of these incredible fans, but especially so tonight. There's something in the air here in the Garden -- as if history awaits us! DD: You may be right, Billy Shakespeare. Tonight's main event is one of the most eagerly-awaited I can remember. RCW World Heavyweight Champion Johnny Pleasence has knocked down challenger after challenger, and has yet to be pinned or made to submit here in RCW. Tonight, he comes up against red-hot rookie Mark Coleman, the young man from Tennessee having earned his status as number one contender -- and he gets his shot right here, tonight! BS: Mark Coleman's meteoric rise has been one of the great stories of the summer, Don. Will the next chapter cast him as a conquering hero, or as a footnote in the margins of Johnny Pleasence's unstoppable reign? DD: I don't know, but I can't wait to find out, along with the twenty thousand fans in attendance here tonight and the many, many more watching at home on KPDX-49. And on top of that incredible main event, we'll see the debuts of no fewer than four new wrestlers here tonight, as Giuseppe Valentine takes on Derek Rage, "Global Superstar" Ron Paris battles a mystery opponent, and two newcomers -- Big Bad Wolff and Samuel Muster -- face each other. BS: It's always exciting to see an athlete for the first time, Don. Of course, I'm more than familiar with Mr. Paris -- but he's returning to Portland tonight after eight years away, and it'll be an introduction to a new generation of fans here in the Pacific north-west. DD: Rounding out the show we'll also see "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy take on self-proclaimed RCW Supreme Champion, "Your Hero" Danny Daniels. The Supreme Championship belt ended up in the possession of Liam Cassidy some four weeks ago -- what will Daniels do here tonight to get it back? [Cut to the backstage area. Mick Silvestri, clutching a clipboard tightly, seems to be looking for someone as he cranes his neck only to sneer as he is approached by Jamie Bond.] JB: Mister Silvestri, a quick word, please. [A smile appears on the face of the the English manager as he straightens out his suit lapels and looks at the camera.] MS: Of course, Jamie, old boy. I am always glad to face the public. JB: I am actually surprised to see you here tonight. Orin LeBlanc, whom you _hit_ with a chair last RAMPAGE, has made it clear that he is looking for you. MS: Let's not blow things out of proportion here. Orin's and my coordination was a little... off, I have to admit that. But, look at the result. Victory was ours. JB: I hear that LeBlanc is not happy with the blow, the result or your continued insistence on-- [Mick jabs an angry index finger at the Bond.] MS: Listen, kid, I am as PR-friendly as anybody, but my business relations to my clients is highly confidential and I will not suffer your slandering right here. JB: But I-- MS: No buts, Bond! Before the night is over I will give you something to talk about. Now point me in the direction of Spreadbury's office so I can... [As Silvestri lowers his voice he turns his back on the camera and we cut back to ringside. Ditka and Shakespeare are now seated at the announce table, their handheld microphones gone and replaced by the regular headsets.] DD: Who knows what machinations Mick Silvestri is putting into motion even now? Well, folks, it's about time for our first match. Two of the four newcomers making their debuts in RCW tonight are set to go one-on-one. Let's get up to ring announcer Sy Simmons to kickstart the action! ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / Big Bad Wolff vs. Samuel Muster /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Sy Simmons takes up his position in the middle of the ring, and raises his microphone to his lips.] SS: Introducing first... [The fans in attendance give polite applause as a hand sweeps the entrance curtain aside. Striding through comes Samuel Muster, a wide-shouldered man with natural dark-blonde hair in a short, curly style. He's got a very picturesque face, with a solid jaw structure and clear blue eyes. Muster wears brownish-gold wrestling trunks that extend to his mid-thigh. His initials, "SM", are imprinted in black cursive letters on the upper right-hand front corner of the trunks. He also wears brown leather boots which extend nearly to the knee, brown leather wristbands, and a "NO FEAR" brand white T-Shirt. At the top of the aisle, he throws his right hand up towards the sky, pumping a fist at the fans, who cheer.] RA: ...hailing from Skyline Mountain, Montana, and weighing in at 274lbs... here is... SAAAAAAAAMUEEEEEL MUUUUUSTER! [Muster marches down the aisle at an unhurried pace, adjusting his wristbands and stretching his thick neck muscles. He hops onto the apron, and steps through the ropes into the ring, again pumping his fist at the fans. The crowd continues to applaud as Samuel whips his T-Shirt off, sending it into the crowd. "The Marine Hymn" dies down, as Samuel tugs on the top rope in his corner, testing its flex as he stretches.] BS: Where exactly _is_ Skyline Mountain, Don? DD: Montana. BS: I know _that_, but... [Shakespeare sighs.] BS: Let's just get on with it. [Ditka chuckles as the heavy metal chords of "Higher" by Tommy Lee crank out from the arena loudspeakers. The fans, unsure how to react, again give a mild pop.] SS: And his opponent... [The aisle curtain flings open to reveal a massive figure clad in a pair of black leather trousers, a pair of black motorcycle boots, padded black fingerless gloves, and a black elbow pad on his right elbow. He pauses for a moment, surveying the crowd with menacing eyes.] SS: ...hailing from Rapid City, South Dakota, weighing in at 335 pounds... here is... BIG BAD WOLFF! [The 6'8", 335 pound terror shoots a giant fist into the air, which draws another mixed reaction from the crowd. He then storms towards ringside, ambivalently slashing through the crowd of outstretched hands. Showing remarkable agility for a wrestler his size, he springs from the arena floor to the ring apron. He then steps over the top rope and stalks about the ring.] DD: Big Bad Wolff and Samuel Muster all set to lock up here during our opening match on this weeks' installment of Rampage... and there's the bell! * DING DING DING! * BS: Muster looks like he's got a case of the butterflies... and correct me if I'm wrong, but it looks like Big Bad Wolff just wants to lay the beatdown on somebody. DD: You are not wrong, my friend... as Wolff feints a collar-and-elbow tie up and opts to take a swing at Samuel Muster! Muster ducks behind him and forces the tie-up... and Big Bad Wolff just _pushes_ him halfway across the ring! [Wolff spits as Muster shakes his head and quickly gets back to his feet, a little more wary this time out...] BS: Muster's not necessarily a midget, and at over 270 pounds, I'm sure he's rarely faced someone bigger than him... until tonight. DD: Muster's going for the lock-up again... and this time he blatantly evades and slips behind Wolff... belly to back takedown! Muster spins out and around... front facelock applied! He pulls Wolff up to his feet, getting set for a front chancery... and it's a no go! BS: It's too early! [Muster tries again but Wolff's not going up... and it's the big man from Rapid City who strikes first, firing a knee into Muster's midsection before hooking a front chancery of his own, lifting Muster up and planting him face first into the canvas with a sitout facebuster! He gets in position for the cover, as the ref count...] ONE! TW- KICKOUT!!! BS: It's too early for both men to give this one up, Don. DD: How true. Wolff looking a bit agitated as he pulls Samuel Muster to his feet... [CROWD POP!] DD: And Muster's battling back with a series of right hands to the face! Wolff's getting driven back towards the ropes... [And in a shocking display, Wolff bounces off the ropes with the speed of, say a Jay Garrick or a Wally West, rushing out with a clothesline... ...but Samuel Muster is on the top of his game, as he snags his extended right arm and makes the proper adjustment, _nailing_ Wolff with a Side Effect!] DD: And that one turned the tide! Muster with a cover of his own! ONE! TWO!! ...KICKOUT!!! [And now, as they say, it's on.] DD: Muster looking to take control of this one, as he pulls Wolff up to his feet, battering him with a series of rights and lefts in the process... and he whips him into the far turnbuckle! Muster rushes in -- _huge_ clothesline! Wolff's staggering out now... gutwrench suplex! BS: Samuel Muster's got quite the head of steam! DD: Muster hooking the leg now and we have another cover attempt! ONE! TWO!! ...TH-KICKOUT!!! BS: It might look like Samuel Muster's on top of things, but I wouldn't count Big Bad Wolff out of this one... DD: Going from personal experience? BS: No -- we're watching the same match, right? The guy's _huge_. This one definitely isn't over. [Muster pulls Wolff up to his feet, but gets a thumb to the eye for his efforts! Wolff, ignoring the smattering of boos directed his way, proceeds to batter Samuel Muster with rights and lefts...] BS: What'd I tell you? DD: Samuel Muster is getting his head handed to him with those monsterous rights and lefts being tossed by Big Bad Wolff... and Muster hits the ropes... and a right damn near takes his head off! [POP!] BS: But he's not falling! DD: Wolff rears back... and a left sends Muster to the ropes again... BS: And he's still not... [Huge pop!] DD: POLISH HAMMER! Samuel Muster is showing some intensity tonight! BS: But Big Bad Wolff isn't gonna stand for it, as he's getting right back to his feet! [The crowd pops for Muster and his display, and even more so as Big Bad Wolff walks right into a series of elbowshots from Muster! On the offensive, Muster whips Wolff into the corner, following up with a clothesline... ...but he eats nothing but Wolff's left elbow! Staggering away, Muster doesn't make it too far before he gets clotheslined in the back of the head! Frustrated, Wolff stomps at Muster's somewhat prone form a couple of times before hitting the ropes... ...and nailing a _huge_ running splash!] BS: He got some height on that one! DD: Indeed Big Bad Wolff did, as he hooks the leg! [The official drops to make the count... 1... 2... ....THRE--KICKOUT! Wolff pulls Muster up to his feet and then fires him off into the corner, rushing in with an elbow. Reeling, Muster gets rocked by a couple more elbows, and then nearly collapses thanks to a blatant thumb to the throat! the crowd jeers and Wolff tries to toss Muster over the top rope, but gets distracted as the ref comes over to admonish him. Muster hits the apron hard and somehow manages to roll back into the ring, as Big Bad Wolff turns his attention onto the ref...] BS: Someone needs to tell this guy that Samuel Muster is his opponent and not the ref! DD: Wolff's seeing red... and Muster from behind! [Big pop!] DD: Rear chinlock slam with authority! BS: The kid better go for a pin now if- what?! [Pop!] DD: And he's headed up top! BS: Unwise, Don. Very unwise. DD: If he nails it, a high risk move here would be devastating and get him the win! BS: All too true... but he hasn't nailed it yet... DD: Muster leaps... [But unfortunately for Samuel Muster, his throat somehow finds its way into Big Bad Wolff's right hand...] DD: CHOKESLAM!!! BS: I think he almost went through the mat! DD: Big Bad Wolff turned the tide, but he's favoring his back in the process! BS: You ever try and spike a two-hundred-seventy pound man into the canvas with one hand? DD: Have you? BS: No, but knowing my back? It wouldn't like it all that much. DD: Cover by Wolff! [The official again drops to make the count... 1... 2... ...THRE--KICKOUT! Big pop!] DD: And the fans are behind Samuel Muster! BS: Big Bad Wolff's gonna be turning heads during this one too. Let's not discount that fact. DD: Wolff now, getting up to his feet, looking to end things... and he hoists Muster onto his shoulders! BS: His back didn't like that one bit! Look at his face! [Big Bad Wolff's doing his best to fight through the pain, and Muster's not helping matters as he wriggles his way out and sets him up...] DD: MONTANA GOLD RUSH! OUT OF NOWHERE! BS: How the hell did he do that!? What a release German suplex! [Wolff, shocked, stunned, hurt and trying to get himself back to rights, manages to push himself up long enough in order to get a kick to the midsection... ...and Muster wastes no time in hitting the Honorable Discharge!] DD: AND MUSTER'S PATENTED SIDE SHOULDER MOUNT POWERBOMB FINDS ITS MARK! BS: Try saying that five times fast! DD: The cover! [The official drops to the canvas once more, and his hand comes down... 1... 2... ...3!] * DING DING DING! * SS: The winner of this match, by pinfall... SAMUEL MUSTER!!! [Big pop!] DD: What an impressive debut for Muster, and what a way to kick off this instalment of RAMPAGE! BS: It's going to be interesting to see just what Muster can accomplish here in RCW, not to mention-- DD: WOLFF! [Big heel pop!] DD: BFT! BFT ON SAMUEL MUSTER! BIG BAD WOLFF'S A MONSTER! BS: Damn right that boot's gonna be Blunt Force Trauma... he's hurt, but he's mad. I definitely wouldn't want to face him down the road... [Wolff leaves the ring to a chorus of boos...] DD: Samuel Muster picked up the win tonight, but it's far from over after what just took place. BS: The man wears size "Holy Crap" boots, Don. You definitely don't want to take a boot to the head from-- DD: What the?! [The fans roar with disapproval!] DD: BIG BAD WOLFF IS HEADED BACK TO THE RING! BS: This is... hey, security?! Get paid for something! [Muster's busy trying to pull himself off the mat to no avail... so Big Bad Wolff helps him out by lifting him up into a fireman's carry... ...and destroys him with the Big Bad Cutter in the process! About four security guards hurriedly make their way to the ring and usher Wolff from ringside, but the damage has already been done...] DD: Completely uncalled for... I think I'm sick to my stomach. BS: He's sending a message, Don... fortunately, I have enough dignity not to make a "big bad wolf" pun. DD: ...hooray for small miracles. [Ditka sighs.] DD: While we're trying to get some order out here, I'm hearing that the Curtis Brothers have just arrived at the building. [Switch to a shot of backstage. The cameraman is following the brothers, Owen and Eddie, as they walk a hallway hurriedly, turn a corner -- and there's Dan Spreadbury! Big pop from the crowd as they watch these scenes on the big screen in the arena!] DS: Well, well, well. If it isn't the owners of Ring of Truth. Or, should I say... former owners. OWEN "TRUTH" CURTIS: Hold on, Dan. What the hell are you talking about? I didn't sell my show to anyone. Because just anyone can't make a show like mine. It has to be me. Well, and him. [Points with a thumb to his brother, Eddie, standing beside him.] EDDIE "FLASH" CURTIS: Yeah. I'm pretty much essential too. OTC: Yeah. So what gives? How's it not ours? DS: This is what gives. [Spreadbury pulls an envelope out of his pocket.] DS: This just came down from a higher court than the one you got YOUR court order from. And unlike that one, this one seems to make a little sense. Let me read it: "The idea that a wrestler in a promotion can become a promoter within that promotion just because he is given a show, or a segment, is on its face ridiculous..." [HUGE CROWD POP!] DD: [voice-over from announce table] No kidding there. DS: [continues reading] "...but the particulars of this unusual contract are highly unusual and require not only further study, but perhaps the services of an arbitrator in order to resolve the contradictory provisions contained therein. In the meantime, therefore, I order that Owen Curtis immediately cease claiming any ownership or booking rights to any championship belts or matches. I order that Dan Spreadbury accommodate Owen Curtis as color commentator and Edward Curtis as referee for selected matches until this whole thing is settled either through negotiation or arbitration. It is so ordered that the parties pursue such a solution." [Owen is standing there, staring. Fuming. Eddie is just shaking his head, chuckling.] DD: Doesn't sound like you have a promotion anymore, boys. Sounds more like you work for me. You know, the way it was when you came here. Well, when Owen came here. Eddie, you don't even have a contract here at all! Why am I even talking to you? [Spreadbury turns and walks off. The camera follows the Curtis boys as they turn and walk in the other direction.] OTC: Did you hear that? Sounds like he wants to sign someone to a wrestling contract! EFC: Heh. Let's get ready for our match. Which one do you want to do, again? The title one, still? Maybe you've changed your mind? Maybe you want more than one? [The brothers stop. Owen turns around and looks right into the camera. He thrusts a finger directly at the viewer.] OTC: Wouldn't YOU like to know. But you don't get to. Buzz off. [The Curtis brothers turn back around and keep walking -- away from the camera. Cut back to the announce table.] DD: That doesn't bode well for later tonight, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Nothing the Curtis brothers have any connection with whatsoever bodes well, Don. DD: While we were watching that little exchange, Samuel Muster made his way backstage under his own steam, but he looked to be in a bad way. I'm sure he's going to want another piece of Big Bad Wolff before too long. Well, this next match ought to be interesting: the Rip City debut of Ron Paris, and he's promised us some sort of Dream Match. BS: I'm not sure who is opponent is, Don, but I have to admit that Paris can hold up his end in the ring. This will be quite intriguing. ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / "Global Superstar" Ron Paris vs. ? /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Just a mere second after Shakespeare has finished speaking, there is a loud and sharp explosion. Two sets of fireworks, one on each side of the entrance ramp, fire off at a 60 degree angle into the air, and a surprised crowd responds with "oohs" and "aahs". After that reaction starts to die down, another bit of pyrotechnics kicks in as a golden "waterfall" style display starts up from a thin bar raised about ten feet over the front of the entrance area. As it starts up, so does Soundgarden's "The Day I Tried to Live" on the Rose Garden's sound system, and the man several "documentaries" have introduced us to as Ron Paris walks out from the Gorilla position into view, wearing a black singlet with red trim and red boots. Paris stands just behind the waterfall, smiling. The crowd is somewhat ambivalent to the debuting Texan slash Global Superstar, although those that have been watching On the Wire the past few episodes respond with boos.] DD: And there is Mister Paris... but we still don't know who his opponent will be! [After the fireworks display starts to die down, Paris begins walking to the ring. Although most fans are either jeering him or indifferent, he reacts as if he's the recipient of a massive outpouring of public support, turning every few seconds with a smile on his face and arms outstretched to say "Thank you" to no one in particular. Paris continues along, getting close to ringside before arriving at a group of four fans in the front row, all wearing the same t-shirt. The four fans wearing the shirts all react as if they're a witness to the Second Coming when Paris walks over to them, flashing a thumbs up. He quickly turns and walks off to enter the ring, but our camera stays on the four fans, one of whom -- an attractive young woman -- actually faints with an exaggerated and obviously fake motion, while the three other "overwhelmed" fans react to catch her. As she is propped back up, we can now see what's on the identical white shirts the four are wearing. They all read: "Member, Official Ron Paris Fan Club".] BS: How characteristic. Paris has brought along his own professional fans. He probably even paid for those ringside seats. DD: Those seats are not cheap, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Neither is a staged publicity stunt like that. [We switch to a view of the ring where Ron Paris is now standing. Instead of warming up for a match, however, he's looking out to the timekeeper's position, asking for a microphone. Match official Bobby Belshee looks a bit put out that we'll have some more talking before the actual match starts, but there's not much he can do about it as Paris is fairly promptly given a live mic.] RP: All of you here in the Rose Garden... all of my present, and future, Parisites... you are very lucky to be here tonight! Because tonight, you get to see not only my RCW debut, but you get to see a true Dream Match! I've heard people talking about this potential match-up for years! I've heard people, in talking about how great a wrestler I am, speculating about how good a match I could take this particular opponent to all the time! And I, Ron Paris, am not one to let down his fans. So sit down and strap yourselves in, because you're about to see something special. Just... just let me go get my opponent. [With that, Paris hands the mic over to a flustered Belshee, and then heads back out of the ring, on the opposite side of the entrance ramp.] DD: I don't understand. Go get his opponent? Can't his opponent walk out here by himself? BS: And now Paris is rummaging around under the ring apron. I'm not sure I even want to know what's going on here. [Paris has indeed lifted up the ring apron on the side closest to the announce position, and he seems to be searching for something under the ring. The fans aren't sure how to react to this, which is also true of everyone around ringside. Referee Belshee, who is still holding onto the microphone, has a confused look on his face as he leans over the ropes to try and figure out what Paris is up to. After a moment's search, Paris pulls something out from under the ring, and triumphantly hoists it into the air. Most of the fans remain confused, although some groan as they see what it is -- a long, wooden broomstick, devoid of the bristles that would normally make up a fully functional broom. Paris rolls back into the ring with his broomstick in one hand, asking for his mic back with the other. A befuddled Belshee gives it to him, still not sure quite what is going on. Paris smiles as he takes it back, and then turns to address as much of the audience as he can -- and, particularly, his "fan club" members in the front row.] RP: Even though I am the greatest -- bar none, the single greatest technical wrestler alive today, I'm always up for a challenge. And over the past few years, I've seen people talking about how I am so good in this ring; I could carry anyone to a solid match. In fact, I heard about one opponent in particular... and I wanted to challenge myself to see if it was true. So tonight, you get to see a match that's been speculated about for years. You get to see Ron Paris versus... ...a broomstick. [As he says that, Paris once again raises the stick in the air, this time to a significant heel pop. He then tosses the mic out of the ring, and places the stick on the mat, holding it up with one hand to simulate his "opponent" standing. He then looks over to Belshee, who is still standing there befuddled, and points towards the timekeeper. Belshee isn't sure what to do, so now Paris yells at him.] RP: Ring the damn bell! [And with that, the young referee is eventually bullied into asking for the bell, to make this farce an official match.] * DING! DING! DING! * BS: I should have expected as much... this isn't going to be a real "dream match", this is going to be Paris making an ass of himself. DD: Wait... so are we actually going to see Ron Paris' debut match against a broomstick? We're actually giving our valuable television time to this? BS: I'm afraid so, Don. Let's just hope Paris keeps this brief. [A few fans chuckle at the thought of Paris trying to "carry a broomstick", while most boo the presumption of it. The four "fan club" members, however, react as if they're watching Flair vs. Steamboat as Paris leans forward while holding onto the top of the broomstick with both hands, as if he was locked in a collar-and-elbow tieup with it. After holding onto the "tieup" for a few seconds, Paris leans back and tosses the stick over his shoulder, following through as if he were giving the stick an armdrag. The stick clatters to the mat, while Paris pops up to his feet. He notices that his foe, predictably, is down on the mat, so he runs over to it, putting an elbow out. He spins first in one direction, then another, his movements exaggerated, before hitting the stick with a pendulum elbow drop! Most fans are unimpressed by this display of prowess against an inanimate object, although it has actually been impressive how much Paris has made the moves look similar to the versions he'd be using against a living, flesh and blood opponent. His "fan club", however, goes beyond being impressed as well as beyond credulity with their reaction of rhythmic clapping.] "THIS IS AWE-SOME!" * Clap clap, clap clap clap * "THIS IS AWE-SOME!" * Clap clap, clap clap clap * DD: We've got a four person cheering section here, I am sure bought and paid for by Ron Paris himself. This is almost sad. BS: It has to speak to a fundamental insecurity in Paris himself that he goes to such lengths to flout his own skill. I noticed it ten years ago when I feuded with him, and he hasn't changed a bit -- he still craves that attention, and he'll do anything to get it. Yes, he's a great wrestler, but he's not much of a man. [Paris massages his arm a bit, perhaps having hurt it while elbow-dropping the solid wood of the stick. Of course, the stick does not get up to attack him in that time, so he can afford the distraction from staying on his "opponent". Ron then goes back on the attack, bending down to grab the back end of the stick, placing it between his legs, and then leaning back with it in what might qualify -- if the stick had legs and was a person, let alone a wrestler -- as a Boston crab. Paris leans back into the would-be submission, and lets out a scream as if it's taking a lot of effort to torque a one pound stick. The referee moves in, presumably to ask Paris to end this joke of a match, but Paris misinterprets and yells at him to check the stick, to see if it wants to submit. Belshee, in his naivetŽ, almost starts to do so before realizing there's no way an inanimate object can submit. Once Paris sees that the ref won't play along, he lets go of the hold, and drops the stick back to the mat. As he stands back up, he picks the stick up with him and places it in a standing side headlock... err, handlelock. After a moment, he reacts as if the stick were elbowing him in the gut to escape, bouncing back while loosening his hold on the headlock and exhaling loudly.] BS: Well, at least Paris is giving his opponent some offense here. [A third simulated elbow "occurs", and Paris has almost let go of the stick, although he holds on just enough to keep it upright. He then gathers himself, and levels his fictional opponent with a clothesline, running a couple of steps past the stick as he does -- as, of course; it offers no resistance to his momentum. He then draws a thumb across his throat, as if signaling the end. A few fans respond with a sarcastic golf clap, but his fan club is much more sincere -- or sincere-seeming, at least -- in it's appreciation. "[Bleep] ÔEM UP, RONNIE, [Bleep] ÔEM UP!" * Clap clap! * "[Bleep] ÔEM UP, RONNIE, [Bleep] ÔEM UP!" * Clap clap! * Paris acknowledges only the supportive, presumably paid-off portion of the crowd, smiling in their direction, before turning around to once again pick up the fallen broomstick. He wraps his arms around its midsection, and then ducks his head down as if putting his head under an opponent's arm. From this position, he suplexes the stick over his head, holding onto it as best he can to bridge into a pin after it hits the mat. Belshee, seeing this as a chance to get the hell out of there and move the show along, decides to slide in and make a rather anti-climactic three count.] DD: Paris there, hitting a Northern Lights suplex to win this match, if you can call it a match. BS: I believe he calls that the West Texas Plex, and if he'd done it to an actual wrestler, it would have been impressive. [Paris gets up after having "won", and demands that Belshee raise his hand. The ref reluctantly does, for just long enough to satisfy Paris, before he gets out of the ring and curses being given this crappy assignment. Such is life as the ref with the least seniority. Paris, meanwhile, picks up the stick on more time, rudely throwing it out of the ring in what, were the stick an actual opponent, would be a suitable heel move. He then once again demands a mic, waiting a few seconds to get it.] DD: Come on! We've seen enough of this jerk for one night, he needs to talk more? [Once Ron gets the microphone, he smiles, and wipes the hand not holding it across his brow.] RP: Didn't even break a sweat. [Most of the crowd boos at this, having gone from their previous indifference to being fairly unimpressed with Paris, and happy to let him know about it. As was occurring throughout the match, the four person strong fan club applauds rapturously.] RP: And that was easily three stars, huh? I guess I proved all my fans on the internet right. [At that, his four fans start shouting loudly that it was, in fact, a four star match, or perhaps even five, not just three. Few others share the opinion that this was a mat classic for the ages, and let Paris know that with continued boos.] RP: So if I could do that with a broomstick... imagine how far I could carry any of the boys in the back! And you get to watch it all. Lucky you. [With that, Paris tosses the mic to the outside, where a harried production assistant scrambles to gather it, and he heads out of the ring to the cheers of very few -- four, to be precise. "The Day I Tried to Live" plays again as Paris briskly heads to the back, his point apparently made in his mind.] DD: The last time he was on this show, I said of Ron Paris that there is no one else in this industry quite like him. BS: And I'll repeat what I said then, as well. Thank the Lord for small mercies. DD: Yes, while I believe he will find the competition here in RCW much stiffer then that he faced tonight, and I don't imagine he made any friends in the locker room with that display. BS: I don't want to downplay his ability one iota, Don, but I do have to admit I look forward to seeing someone in our locker room step up and slap the taste out of Paris' mouth. DD: You and I both. But for now, we need to move on with the show. Up next-- [Suddenly, "Do The Evolution" by Pearl Jam kicks in over the loudspeakers. The Portland faithful begin to cheer as they recognize the figure striding down the aisle towards the ring. Cordless mic in hand, Orin "The Lynx" LeBlanc is dressed casually in black jeans and a grey T-shirt, but the look on his face is dead serious and all business.] DD: Orin LeBlanc is a man on a mission tonight, Billy Shakespeare! Even after making it adamantly clear that he wants nothing to do with his managerial services, the Lynx has had to put up with the unwanted attentions of Mick Silvestri. Last RAMPAGE we even saw the Englishman unnecessarily interject himself on behalf of LeBlanc with his match against Ryan Faith and the result was a tainted win and a headache thanks to an errant chair shot! BS: "He that filches from me my good name, robs me of that which not enriches him, but makes me poor indeed." DD: "Othello"? BS: Very good, Don! DD: Lucky guess. And as we saw earlier tonight, LeBlanc has been looking for Mick Silvestri. But whether it's to finally convince Mick to give up his futile pursuit or give a more... "personal" touch on that rejection remains to be seen! [By this time, the Canadian wrestler has rolled into the ring and is signalling for the music to be cut.] OL: Ya know... I ain't one to stereotype. But Silvestri, between yourself an' that preenin' piss-poor maggot currently holdin' on to the Heavyweight belt, I'm beginnin' to think that all Brits willingly indulge in self-delusion as a lifestyle choice! DD: He _does_ remember where President Spreadsbury is from, right? [The Lynx begins to pace, the growing anger clear on his face.] OL: A guy like your man Nate Herod -- someone a bit slow on the uptake an' all -- maybe he likes bein' led around by the nose. Certainly, he don't seem to want to do any sort o' heavy thinkin'... [LeBlanc smirks a little, but it quickly fades.] But I never needed or wanted any sort o' manager in my life an' I don't plan on changin'! [Pop!] OL: Mick Silvestri... you made the mistake o' gettin' in between me an' mine one too many times. Now get your used car salesman's ass out here! I want to make sure _nothing_ is lost in the translation on where you can stick that contract o' yours... # Sweet home Alabama # Where the skies are so blue # Sweet home Alabama # Lord, I'm coming home to you [As Skynyrd's hymn to the South plays the bulky form of Nathan Herod enters the aisle. The young man is not wearing his wrestling attire but plain blue jeans and a dark green t-shirt. Herod strides down to ringside quickly as the crowd jeers and boos him.] DD: I see no trace of Mick Silvestri. BS: You can say a lot of things about Silvestri, but he's no fool. Sending Herod down here first to find out LeBlanc's intentions is way better for his health, believe me. [The music is cut off as Nathan reaches ringside. He walks up the steps and stops outside the ring as he locks eyes with Orin. A moment passes... then Herod spits an ugly-sized glob to the outside before he ducks into the ring, a few feet away from the other wrestler. Nate produces a mic and starts to speak.] NH: Ah was backstage t'night cause _my_ manager, Mistah Silvestri asked me to. "Some kind of 'nouncement", he said. But ah jus' arrived and ah see no Silvestri but you, the Frenchie with the big mouth. [Herod's face flares up red as he visibly becomes tense.] NH: You jus' come out here and call Jeremiah Herod's son a dumb piece of crap? You take 'nother dumb on Mistah Silvestri's offer? Lemme tell you something, Frenchie, these decisions do not make you look like the smart one in this ring, cause Ah am going to - MS: Boys, boys, boys! [It is Mick Silvestri, grinning like a cheshire cat, up on the video wall.] MS: There is no reason to maul each other tonight. The two of you better step away from each other and make sure that no toes are stepped on. Oh, I would have come down to ringside in person to greet you, Orin, but your invitation took place at the same time I was in Daniel Spreadbury's office and made him an offer we all will profit from. You see, in my hands, I hold a contract that has Nathan Herod... and Orin LeBlanc... TEAM UP right here on the next edition of RAMPAGE! [The crowd pops in anticipation as Silvestri waves his clipboard about. Herod leaves the ring, looking less than pleased by the development and Orin LeBlanc stares at the video wall with nothing less than a mixture of anger and astonishment.] DD: I don't believe it, Billy Shakespeare. How could Silvestri persuade President Spreadbury to go along with this? BS: There's more to this than meets the eye. MS: Don't believe me, Orin? You'd better believe it! The booking is made and you don't want to say no to our beloved President, right? In just two weeks, the tag-team of Herod/LeBlanc will debut and I am sure you will crush your opponents with extreme prejudice as a prelude to the successes the two of you will earn in the future. I am sure, you will have no love lost for the opponents, Orin. You will face... the Curtis Brothers! [Mixed pop! No doubt, while the fans relish the thought of due violence inflicted upon the brothers Owen and Eddie, they also understand that the circumstances involved are less than voluntary. And the hate-filled glares Herod and LeBlanc are shooting each other right now acutely reflect those circumstances.] DD: What a shocker if this turns out to be true, Billy Shakespeare! Both Orin LeBlanc AND Nathan Herod have had their recent efforts in the ring disrespected thanks to the Curtis' *ahem* "unique" commentary. BS: Don't remind me, Don. But all of Mick Silvestri's posturing might be for naught as I can't see how Orin and Nathan would willingly work together as a team! And in this aggressive pursuit of the Lynx, will Silvestri end up alienating the charge he already has in Herod?! DD: Speaking of alienation, President Spreadsbury should be careful that in his attempt to stop Owen Curtis' ego from running roughshod all over RAMPAGE, he doesn't make an enemy of Orin LeBlanc. It's got to be galling for the big Canadian that Silvestri played on the President's desperation and signed him up as Silvestri's unwilling hatchetman! [Meanwhile, by this time the RCW security officials have hustled down the aisle and are getting between Herod and LeBlanc, who are now both on the outside of the ring and threatening to toss more than words at each other. The thankless officials finally manage to usher both wrestlers away from each other, herding them towards the back in opposite directions.] DD: Folks, what a match that's going to be in two weeks' time. Clearly the RCW President is less than pleased with the Curtis brothers -- and he's showing it by putting them into the ring against two highly dangerous competitors, Nathan Herod and Orin LeBlanc. BS: Let's hope Herod and LeBlanc can work together long enough to rid RCW of its current case of Curtisitis. DD: Absolutely. Folks, when we come back, the fourth of tonight's four debuts, as Giuseppe Valentine does battle with Derek Rage. Stay right there! [Fade to commercials.] [Fade back from commercials to a wide-action shot of the squared circle.] DD: Welcome back to RAMPAGE, everybody. Still to come tonight, our main event, as RCW Champion Johnny Pleasence defends against hot rookie Mark Coleman -- but right now we have another blockbuster match, as newcomer Giuseppe Valentine does battle with the massive Derek Rage. Let's get back up to the ring. ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / Giuseppe Valentine vs. Derek Rage /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [Sy Simmons stands in the ring, and with practiced ease, brings the microphone to his lips.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall! [The arena is plunged into utter darkness as the sudden hard beat of Public Enemy's "Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos," thundering over the PA speakers, prompts a deafening cheer] SS: He is accompanied to the ring by Pizzazz! Hailing from Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada, and weighing in at 325lbs... this is... DEEEEEEEEREK RAAAAAAAAAGE! [The cheering grows even louder as the statuesque Pizzazz steps into the spotlight shining down at the top of the aisle, smiling for the cameras that zoom in on her and her charge behind her. Through the entrance, the towering form of Derek Rage appears, cloaked in his trademark boxer's robe, the hood pulled down to cover his head.] DD: The Intelligent Thug, Derek Rage, who we last saw disposing handily of "Nifty" Ned Norton a few weeks ago. BS: A harsh thrashing, to be sure. Derek Rage wanted Lord Byron and got a poor substitute in Norton. One can only imagine the anger Rage has pent up inside, and I wonder if a newcomer like Valentine can endure the oncoming storm. DD: I would be remiss, Billy Shakespeare, if I did not point out that Pizzazz appears to have fully recovered from the injuries she received at the hands of the currently-suspended Lord Byron. [The fans continue to cheer loudly as Rage and Pizzazz walk down the aisle. At ringside, Rage demonstrates his exceptional height by ascending up onto the ring apron in one fluid motion, and then stepping over the top rope with one sweeping scissor motion of his long legs. Pizzazz uses a more conventional approach as she ducks between the ropes. She moves to stand behind her charge as she removes his robe to reveal Rage's lean but muscled body... all 7'2" of it. While his body is chiseled and well-maintained, Rage still looks less immaculate then one would expect from the Intelligent Thug. His afro has grown out a little more since his last match-up, and the hair on his face has moved from "five o'clock shadow" to "four days without shaving." "Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos" slowly fades from the PA system, the thumping bass line retreated as Rage moves to a nearby corner, leaning over the ropes, staring out in the crowd. Pizzazz vacates the ring, leaving her man alone, waiting for his opponent.] BS: The eyes, Don, are the gateway to the soul, and one look tells me, for whatever reason, Derek Rage is a soul looking to unleash the fires of Hades itself on Giuseppe Valentine. [The doleful piano strains of "We Suck Young Blood" begin to peal over the PA system and the Rose Garden Arena falls into murky half-light. After the first few bars, as the wailing vocal enters, a spotlight pierces the gloom to the entrance...] # Are you hungry? # Are you sick? # Are you begging for a break? # Are you sweet? # Are you fresh? # Are you strung up by the wrists? # We want the young blood # [...where the curtain parts and Giuseppe Valentine for the first time steps into the theatre of Rip City Wrestling -- to be greeted by a muted and indifferent suspicion. He introduces himself to his new public with a tilt of the nose and a curl of the top lip, shoulders back and chest inflated as he strides towards the ring. Under the spotlight Valentine is a picture of _chiaroscuro_: black hair, moustache and attire stark against a lily-white complexion, all enveloped in a billowing black frock-coat.] # Are you fracturing? # Are you torn at the seams? # Would you do anything? # Flea-bitten? moth-eaten? # We suck young blood # we suck young blood # SS: And introducing his opponent... from Sacramento, California, and weighing in at two-hundred and fifteen pounds...making his RCW debut her tonight... ...GIUSEPPEEEEEEEEEEE VALENNNNNNNNTINE! [A small cheer goes up at the name from a small section of cultish followers, which seems now to tickle Valentine a little. He slashes a finger in the air above his head to signal the lights and music, and stands at the base of the stairs, grinning up at the snorting, stoic Derek Rage. A member of the crew ferries a mic over to him.] GV: [to Rage] I'll ask, Ser, if I may... ...Can I come in? [He gestures at the apron. Rage's only response is a scowl: good enough for his opponent, who plants one of his knee-high leather boots noisily upon the first step.] GV: Grazie. You'll note that Giuseppe Valentine is _nothing_ if not civil -- and a man of civility would never try to walk into the house you say that you built... [An ironic smirk flashes on the young man's face as he ducks under the ropes...] GV: ...without first indulging your delusion. [He stands up straight and raises his voice:] GV: Because it has to be said... you've built up _nothing_ in this place -- only too much fat in your arteries and a skewed sense of your accomplishments. [A collective intake of breath in the Rose Garden Arena. Rage sneers.] DD: Valentine has a vicious tongue in his head, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Pray, for his sake, it's properly wired up to his brain. GV: Understand this now, my friend: you're just the first line of defense. Presidential collateral: the first pawn pushed towards me in a much larger game. The only thing I'll gain after beating you tonight is time to consider my next move. [Rage is still impassive. Giuseppe pauses, relaxes his clenched jaw, and laughs.] GV: ...Don't believe me, then, if what I say's so ludicrous, if I've forgotten who it is you are: Derek Rage, Intelligent Thug, the ox too smart to wear the yoke. As if you could be anybody's dupe; as if a lesser mind could make you look a fool! [Suddenly, he feigns forgetfulness and holds out his free hand, clenching it.] GV: But... tell me, Ser, I meant to ask... ...How's that hand of yours healing? [He waits. There's no answer, of course.] DD: Rage's hand, injured by Lord Byron in an attack a couple of months ago... BS: Thank you, Don, I can remember for myself... GV: Because I'd swear... it was like that Englishman had you on a chain. And if he hadn't had to put blue water between himself and this hotel maid who says he knocked her up, I swear he'd still be jerking you around on it right now! [Suddenly, the arena is abuzz! A malevolent grin squirms over Valentine's face.] BS: Oh my -- that _is_ quite a tongue, Don! We better get the barristers on the phone. DD: Fans, the views expressed by Giuseppe Valentine in no way represe- BS: Is that true, by the way? DD: Billy, you know there's no word on Byron. Believe nothing Valentine says. BS: ...shame. [Valentine taunts the massive Nova Scotian, mimes a pulling-on-a-chain motion.] GV: Enlighten me, Ser: if you're as clever as you say, why do you parade your biggest weakness... with a slit in her skirt and tits pushed up to her eyeballs? [He indicates Pizzazz, who's hitherto had the attention only of those sat in the front row, immediately behind where she stands at ringside. Rage's eye twitches shut.] GV: Heh. Byron must have figured you out a hundred miles away. You say I need to find a friend? You say I need help if I'm to beat you? [Briefly, Valentine ogles her, nibbling his lower lip.] GV: Already have it. [He snaps back to Rage. Wink.] GV: I know to what part of you that chain's attached. [Heel pop! Valentine steps forward at this point, cackling, and it proves a step too far.] * WHUMP! * DD: Oh, big lariat! Derek Rage has let Valentine talk long enough! [Pat Nickrick, your referee for the evening, quickly calls for the opening bell as Rage picks Valentine up with one hand, and proceeds to HURL the much smaller wrestler into the nearby corner! The fans wince in pain as Rage follows up with a second vicious lariat, slamming into Valentine at full speed!] DD: Valentine just got sandwiched between Derek Rage and the turnbuckles! BS: Welcome to RCW, Giuseppe. You're reaping the whirlwind early. [Valentine slumps over, hanging off the turnbuckle by his arm, as Rage, his eyes wide in...well, rage...backs away from his foe for a moment. Only for a moment, though, as he runs back in and drives his foot directly into the face of Valentine!] DD: Valentine stumbles out of the corner...and falls flat on his face! Derek Rage now standing over him, and he just grinds that huge foot of his down on the neck of Valentine! [Valentine's response is appropriate. He screams loudly, clawing at the mat to attempt to get away from Rage, but he's pinned and unable to move!] BS: A unique offense from Derek Rage, but it's getting the five count from Nickrick! [At the '4' count, Rage removes his foot, ignoring the admonishments of the referee as he reaches down and easily pulls Valentine to his feet...via his hair! Valentine yells again, clawing at his scalp] DD: Rage now with an Irish Whip...but Valentine ducks the lariat...and comes back with a jumping shoulder block! BS: And he bounces back! Rage barely budged! [Valentine lands on his feet, a little wobbly. Rage stands in the middle of the ring, almost snarling, eyes boring on Valentine. The smaller wrestler proceeds to bounce off the ropes a second time, with another jumping shoulder block, but Rage easily stands his ground and absorbs the blow!] DD: Valentine looks concerned...and Rage is smirking now, and roaring for Valentine to try it again! [And he does, coming nearly full speed off of the ropes, running back Rage! He bounces off the opposite side, and leaps, slamming his shoulder into the chest of Derek Rage...and getting nothing but a step backwards!] DD: Valentine's offense ineffective so far... BS: ...and so the villain decides to settle for the easy route! And a blatant low blow by Giuseppe Valentine on the Intelligent Thug! [A quick flick of the fist to the lower abdomen is all is takes to double Derek Rage over! Pat Nickrick says a few words to Valentine, and he responds with a shrug and a simple word. "Sorry." A word directed at Pizzazz, standing nearby on the outside!] DD: I don't think Pizzazz is all that worried about...well, Derek's lower abdomen, but I supposed it's nice of Valentine to apologize anyway. BS: Sarcasm, Don? I believe that last sentence contained it. [Valentine turns back to a doubled-over Rage, grabbing the sides of his head and delivering two quick knee strikes! His knee fly upwards, smashing into Rage's face, before Valentine finishes it off by kneeling and driving Rage's face down onto the outstretched knee!] DD: Valentine REALLY had to force Rage down, giving up nearly a foot-and-a-half to him, and I don't think that final knee strike had a full effect! BS: Valentine doesn't seem to care, though...but I think he should, as Rage breaks the grip on his head! [Rage's arms fly up and he breaks the hold! Valentine's taken aback for a moment, which is all the time Rage needs to reach out and take hold of the newcomer!] DD: Rage has Valentine! And he hoists him up! SIDEWALK SLAM! Rage simply DRIVES Valentine to the mat with authority! And a quick cover, Nickrick is there! ONE! TWO! And Valentine squirms out at the last moment! [Valentine manages to get a shoulder up and pushes away from Rage. Rage follows, grabbing onto Valentine's arm and pulling him to his feet with an arm wringer] DD: A hot start to this match, as Rage now, towering over Valentine, pulls and twists on that right arm! BS: One-hundred and ten pounds, and fourteen inches. That's the advantage in size and height Derek Rage has over Giuseppe Valentine. [Valentine holds on to his shoulder, grunting loudly in pain, as Rage threads his fingers between Valentine's and grinds the arm. Valentine turns and tries to reach the nearby ropes for a break, but Rage easily keeps him away.] DD: Valentine now trying to reverse the arm wringer, but Rage easily counters! [Valentine pauses for a moment, catching his breath, and his next action is to lash out and kick Derek Rage in the knee! Rage grunts, but keeps the arm wringer on tight. Valentine's response is to repeat the action, slamming his foot into the side of Rage's knee!] DD: Valentine using the arm wringer for leverage, and he kicks Rage in the knee again...the Intelligent Thug buckles, and one more kick has brought him to his knee! [Rage finds himself on one knee, and without the height advantage, his arm wringer is quickly reversed by Valentine! Valentine now steps behind Rage, moving quickly, and puts his foot on the back of Rage's knee!] DD: Now it's Valentine's turn to do some grinding, right there on the back of the knee he just kicked! BS: There's a reason smaller wrestlers try to target the knees of bigger wrestlers, and that is because it is sound strategy! [Rage manages, after a few seconds, to push back to his feet. Valentine, though, stays behind him, keeping the arm wringer on...] DD: Derek Rage just bellowed out in pain! [...and bending back the fingers on the hand! Valentine has two of Rage's fingers in his grip, and has loosened the arm wringer, in turn bending back the digits as far as he can!] BS: Valentine may be trying to reinjure the hand of Derek Rage, a hand Lord Byron had worked over in the past month! DD: We may need to give Valentine more credit, Billy Shakespeare, because that, too, is a smart strategy! [Rage finally manages to spin around and get a hold of Giuseppe Valentine! He makes Valentine break the hold, and proceeds to Irish whip him across the ring!] DD: Rage...BACKDROP DRIVER! He just lifted Valentine up into the air and dropped him almost head-first onto the canvas! BS: Impressive to be sure, Dan! But notice, Rage is shaking his hand. I can imagine that move couldn't have felt too good on Derek Rage's end, although Valentine surely took the full brunt of that maneuver! [Valentine rolls to a sitting position, clutching at the back of his neck. Derek Rage gives the young man no chance to breathe, though, as he charges across the ring and drives his boot into the back of Valentine's head!] DD: Valentine just got creamed by at LEAST a Size 12 boot! And Rage isn't backing off, either! [Rage bends down and grabs Valentine's arm, the same one he had been working over earlier. He puts Valentine, after pulling him back to his feet, into an arm wringer, before turning and standing back-to-back with his opponent!] BS: Rage now with both hands on Valentine's wrist...and he lifts! An impressive display of strength here, Don, as Rage has Valentine caught in an over the shoulder armbreaker! DD: An impressive move to be sure, Billy Shakespeare! Look at Valentine hang! [Rage, being fourteen inches taller and leaning forward slightly, holds Valentine's arm over his shoulder, squeezing and stretching the limb! Behind him, Valentine finds that his feet are off the ground, and he can't get any traction to break the move! His yells in pain again as incredible pressure is put on his arm and shoulder!] DD: Valentine has nowhere to go! Rage has that armbreaker cinched in tight, and Valentine has nothing to grab on to! [Valentine, after a few seconds, finally reaches up with his free hand and manages to get it under the chin of Derek Rage! The fans, watching, begin to buzz at the incredible display of athleticism Giuseppe Valentine begins to show!] DD: Valentine...he's lifting himself up! He's using Derek's chin for leverage...and what a counter! Giuseppe Valentine has lifted himself up and over Derek Rage! [The much smaller man uses his agility to slowly pull his legs over his head, and he manages to flip himself over the head of Rage, landing on his feet in front of the Intelligent Thug!] BS: An impressive display of skill and conditioning from Giuseppe Valentine...and all that good will goes to waste as Valentine breaks the arm wringer with a thumb to the eye! [The fans definitely boo, their respect gone, as Rage puts a hand to his face, holding his eye. Valentine takes a quick breath, before lifting his leg and driving it into the stomach of Derek Rage! But...] DD: RAGE CATCHES THE LEG! Rage has Valentine's leg, and he's at his mercy...Dragon Screw Legwhip sends Valentine to the mat...and Rage still has the leg! [Rage holds onto the leg, pulling Valentine away from the ring ropes even as he reaches out for them! Rage forces Valentine to his feet, his opponent hopping on one leg...] DD: And a second Dragon Screw Legwhip! And Rage STILL holds on to the leg, and Valentine can't make it to the ropes...ENZUGIRI! Valentine just spun around and caught Rage square in the temple! Derek Rage is down...and Valentine is out of the ring! [Rage drops to the mat, stunned by the sudden strike to his head. Giuseppe Valentine takes the opportunity to slide outside of the ring, holding his own neck, grimacing in pain.] DD: He's a newcomer to RCW, but the fans at ringside are letting Valentine know early that they don't appreciate his actions so far in this match...OR his comments leading up to this debut here tonight! BS: I shall say this in his behalf, Don. Seeing Valentine wrestle is much more engrossing then watching Ron Paris wrestle a broom. [Valentine finally snaps at the crowd, still holding his neck. A few choice barbs received a heated response from the fans, but Valentine simply smirks...] DD: Again, we apologize to our fans, and to the FCC, for Valentine's comments. [...before noticing, out of the corner of his eyes, Pizzazz standing near the ringpost, her eyes not on him, but on her man in the ring, who's slow to get to his feet. Her eyes shift quickly, though, as Valentine takes a few steps towards her. Instead of menacing her, though, he simply bows slightly] GV: I hope my curses did not offend your lovely ears. [Pizzazz's response is to restrain the roll of her eyes, and to instead clap and try to motivate her man, who is now up on one knee] DD: Giuseppe Valentine apologizing to Pizzazz for his comments to the nearby fans. That's...unusual. BS: Perhaps not for Valentine. Or it could be a ploy to get inside Derek Rage's head. [Valentine climbs up onto the ring apron now, as Rage finally regains his footing. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, the big man turns around...just in time to see Valentine take off!] DD: SPRINGBOARD DROPKICK BY VALENTINE! He caught Derek Rage in the chest, and Rage is down! VALENTINE WITH THE COVER! ONE! TWO! Rage with the shoulder up easily! But Valentine is relentless, on his feet, and stomping on Rage's knee! BS: Two such stomps...and now a stomp right onto Rage's hand! And he grinds his boot to add insult to even more injury! [Valentine grabs onto the ropes for assistance, pushing down and pinning Rage's hand between the mat and his boot! Pat Nickrick is there, though, and Valentine breaks at the four count, brushing past Nickrick to pick Rage up and set him against the ropes!] DD: Valentine Irish whip the big man...and catches him in the chest with a discus punch! And now a chop to Rage pushes him back a bit...and another puts him to the ropes! A second Irish whip...no! Rage easily reverses! [Rage goes for a trademark lariat, only for Valentine to duck underneath and rebound off the ropes! Rage waits as Valentine leaps, throwing himself at the big man...] BS: Rage catches Valentine! He plucked him out of mid-air, and has him in a bearhug! [Rage smirks again, his long arms wrapped around Valentine, holding him in place. Valentine tries to push away, but Rage is already in motion...] DD: RAGE SANDWICHES VALENTINE IN THE CORNER! 325 pounds just drove Giuseppe Valentine back first into the turnbuckles! BS: And I do not believe Rage is done yet, as he still has Valentine in his clutches...and now Rage spins, and charges yet again! DD: A SECOND TIME, OPPOSITE CORNER! Rage goes coast-to-cast with Valentine, just abusing the smaller man right now! And...he's still not done, Billy Shakespeare! [Rage, looking out at the cheering fans, takes Valentine in both hands...and shows off his physical ability by pressing his opponent above his head! Valentine immediately comes alive, shaking his head, yelling "no, no" loudly. His cries are more seen then heard, as the Rose Garden is cheering for the Intelligent Thug as he holds Valentine above his head!] DD: He's really making Valentine think about this one, Billy! Rage now...he pumps once...pumps twice...AND PLANTS VALENTINE INTO THE MAT WITH AN IMPLANT DDT OUT OF THE GORILLA PRESS! A vicious move, and Valentine may start his RCW career 0-and-1! A cover by Rage! ONE! TWO! THRE...NO! NO! Valentine manages to kick out at the very last second! Oh, you don't get any closer then that! [Valentine rolls onto his stomach and crawls to the ring ropes, attempting to get back to his feet. Rage follows him, picking him up with one hand, and setting him against the ropes! And...chop!] DD: Ouch! Fans, that one made ME wince a little bit! BS: And Valentine didn't care too much for it either! [Valentine holds his chest, screaming in pain...as Rage puts him back into position and lands another wicked chop!] DD: Rage now...whip to the ropes...Valentine out of nowhere with a diving shoulder block! [Valentine bounces back and dives forward, driving his shoulder into the knee of Derek Rage! Rage buckles a little bit, and Valentine quickly regains his footing to follow up...] DD: Valentine with a kick to the back of Rage's knee! And Rage is down on one knee...and a kick to the other one puts Rage on both knees...and now a knee strike to the back of Rage's head! The giant is down on all fours, Billy Shakespeare! BS: And again, Giuseppe Valentine is wasting no time here! A vicious stomp directly to the hand of Derek Rage! [Another firm stomp gets a warning from Nickrick, but Valentine pays him no mind! As the Rose Garden watches, Giuseppe straddles Rage's arm at the shoulder, and proceeds to twist at his arm!] DD: He's worked on the knee, and now he's working on the arm again... Valentine is twisting that arm for all he's worth... BS: Hold that observation, Don! Valentine now has his hands around Rage's hand...oh! How brutal! Giuseppe has Rage's fingers, and he's splitting them apart! [Valentine, in a crude but sadistic move, is trying to split Rage's four fingers apart at the middle! Rage bellows in pain, his fingers being forced to bend in an unnatural way due to the actions of Giuseppe Valentine!] BS: I will say this for Valentine; he has taken full advantage every time Rage has been vulnerable! There has been incredible tenacity on his part! [Rage, after a few seconds, begins to stir! Valentine, after a few more moments of fingers bending, realizes that his opponent is active...and now standing up, pushing upwards with Valentine sitting on his shoulder!] DD: Valentine has nowhere to go but down...ELECTRIC CHAIR SLAM! That will break the hold, and let Rage go for the cover! ONE! TWO! NO! Valentine fights on, kicking out! [Rage yanks Valentine to his feet with his good hand, but Valentine pulls out a desperation headbutt that manages to catch Rage in the jaw as he's bent over! Rage stumbles back a bit, giving Valentine the advantage!] DD: Valentine sets Rage on the ropes...Irish whip...OH MY! Drop toehold by Valentine, and he managed to drop Derek Rage throat-first onto the middle rope...directly in front of Pizzazz! [Rage slams into the rope, immediately gasping for air! He tries to push up...but Valentine is faster, and drives a knee into the back of his spine! Pizzazz steps back a bit as Rage exhales, trying to get his breath back] DD: Rage is in a bad spot, Billy Shakespeare...and it gets worse, as Valentine is tying Rage's arm between the ropes! [Despite the admonishments of Pat Nickrick, Giuseppe Valentine has taken Derek Rage's right arm and tied it between the ropes! Quickly, he does the very same to the left arm, leaving Rage wrapped and at his mercy!] DD: Pat Nickrick is trying to get control and get Valentine to let Rage out...but Valentine runs to the ropes...OH! HE LEAPS AND PINS RAGE'S HEAD AND THROAT BETWEEN THE MIDDLE ROPE! [Any air Rage had recovered is quickly gone again, as Valentine drives it from his lungs!] DD: And now, Valentine is climbing on Rage's back...he's got the middle rope in both hands, and he's pulling back on it! BS: That's a blatant, illegal choke right there, Don, but I somehow think Giuseppe Valentine cares! [Nickrick is counting as Valentine, ignoring the yells of Pizzazz for the moment, yank backwards, driving the rope into the exposed throat of Derek Rage!] GV: Here's your weak spot, Rage! [Rage tries to free his arms, as his face slowly, very slowly begins to turn purple! Valentine yanks harder, cutting off as much air as possible, as he looks at Pizzazz and repeats his words!] GV: Right here, Rage, your weak spot! Your weak spot! [He's yelling wildly as he yanks back, but Nickrick finally forces his way in between the two men, and forces Valentine to break! The boos are evident as Valentine stands back up] DD: Valentine being made to break that choke...but he has Rage's leg in one hand, and he pulls back...and kicks him right in the knee! [Nickrick has had enough, and sends Valentine to the opposite side of the ring. Valentine turns and looks out at the jeering crowd, a sneer on his face at their reactions. Behind him, Nickrick and Pizzazz have worked to free Derek Rage from the ropes, and the Intelligent Thug somehow has the strength to pull himself back to his feet, leaning over the top rope, catching his breath as Pizzazz offers encouragement] DD: A sick display by Giuseppe Valentine here, Billy Shakespeare. BS: Truly, the young man possesses a violent and relentless streak. [Valentine, seeing Derek Rage free, turns and walks over to him, shoving past Pat Nickrick to get at him...] DD: Elbow to the face by Rage! Valentine was not expecting that...and another elbow! Valentine is rocked...and Rage spins around and has him by the throat! [Wait for it...that's what Valentine is doing, his hands clawing at Rage's long arms as the life is choked out of him. Nickrick counts for the Intelligent Thug to break, but Rage settles the matter!] DD: GUILOTINE SLAM BY DEREK RAGE! Valentine is down, and allow me to skip the Blue Oyster Cult reference and go right for the count as Rage covers! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Valentine kicks out, but now it's Derek Rage's turn to punish his opponent as he picks Valentine up and HURLS him into the nearby corner! BS: Valentine is down...I never would have pegged you for a "Don't Fear the Reaper" kind of guy, Don Ditka. DD: I admit, I was a Steve Kowalski fan at one point, Billy Shakespeare, but let's focus on the present as Derek Rage is introducing Giuseppe Valentine to the turnbuckle, one shot at a time! [We catch up on "four," as Derek Rage slams Valentine's head off the turnbuckle! At "ten," Valentine turns, stumbling into the middle of the ring...and falling onto his face!] DD: Derek Rage is, pardon the clichŽ, on fire! He's got Valentine down on the mat...but he picks him right back up...CLAWHOLD! Rage has the Clawhold, and we all know what's coming next! BS: Rage has Valentine dead to...NO! NO! VALENTINE GRABS RAGE'S HAND, AND HE'S BENDING BACK THE FINGERS AGAIN! [It's a desperation move by Valentine, and it worked for him earlier in the match...but Rage focuses through the pain, and lifts Valentine high into the air...but Valentine keeps bending!] DD: Rage has him up for the Hammer of God...NO! NO! Valentine manages to break the hold! He focused on Rage's hand earlier tonight, and I think it finally caught up with the Intelligent Thug! [Valentine slips/falls to the mat as Rage curses, holding his hand and gritting his teeth in pain! He slowly flexes his fingers, testing their mobility, and we see the agony on his face. But this is Derek Rage, who's been in worse pain in this very ring, and he turns back around to face his opponent...] DD: VALENTINE WITH A SUPERKICK FROM NOWHERE, AND A COVER! ONE! TWO! AND RAGE KICKS OUT! Oh, he BARELY got a shoulder up, as Giuseppe Valentine manages to find his bearings and BLAST Derek Rage right in the jaw with a devastating superkick! [Valentine is on his hands and knees, trying to recover and catch his breath, while Rage lies motionless beside him! The fans start to buzz, cheering for Derek Rage to get to his feet, encouraged by Pizzazz slapping and banging her hands on the canvas to motivate him!] DD: Nickrick is checking on both men...and Valentine grabs Nickrick! BS: No foul play here, though...Valentine is whispering something in his ear! [Nickrick steps back a bit, looking confused, as Valentine, using the referee to get to his feet, seems to repeat what he had said, but now he motions to Pizzazz!] DD: Valentine... he's telling Pat Nickrick to watch out for Pizzazz! BS: "Watch her," actually. DD: In either case, Billy Shakespeare, Pizzazz has been a non-factor in this match so far, but Valentine, now on his feet, is telling Nickrick to remove her from ringside! ["She is doing more harm then good" are Giuseppe Valentine's exact words. Nickrick is ignoring Valentine now...as is Pizzazz, still blowing him off as she yells at Derek Rage to get up and get back into the fight!] DD: Valentine is NOT happy with Nickrick downplaying his concern...but it looks like he's going to do something about it! [Indeed, Valentine throws down his hands and walks over to the ring ropes, intending to step outside and deal with Pizzazz himself! Pat Nickrick, though, is right there, grabbing onto Valentine and stopping him as he's halfway through the ropes!] DD: Valentine now going after Pizzazz, who's wisely stepping away from the ropes, but he's trying to get away from Nickrick! [Nickrick manages to pull Valentine back into the ring, and turns him around, giving the newcomer an earful! Valentine, however, simply sneers at the referee, throwing up his hands and backing away... ...into a lean, sculpted, ebony wall.] BS: Giuseppe Valentine, meet Derek Rage. [Valentine response is an exasperated sigh, almost of the "this is going to be unpleasant, and I should have seen it coming" variety. Towering behind him, Derek Rage stands motionless, glaring down at the smaller man. A moment passes...] DD: Valentine tries to spin around, but Rage is quicker! He's got Valentine tied up...OH MY! COBRA CLUTCH...INTO A BULLDOG! COBRA CLUTCH BULLDOG BY THE INTELLIGENT THUG! [Pizzazz is now clapping on the outside as Rage bends over and picks Valentine back up. Valentine looks dazed as Rage, smoothly, calmly, with all the time in the world it seems like, twist Valentine's arm into an arm wringer...and brings him close...] DD: SIDE SLAM BY RAGE! Cover! ONE! TWO! KICKOUT! Valentine, again, last moment, kicks out! Rage doesn't give him a moment to rest though...he has Valentine up...and another Clawhold! Hammer of...NO! Oh, Valentine with a second low blow! An uppercut to the lower abdomen of Derek Rage breaks the hold! [Desperate, Valentine drives his fist into the groin of Rage, breaking the clawhold! Rage drops down to one knee as Nickrick tells Valentine, in no uncertain terms, that one more incident like that would result in a disqualification! Valentine, however, doesn't seem to notice. Instead, his eyes are locked upon Pizzazz! The beauty has had enough, and is standing on the apron, finger pointing directly at Valentine!] DD: Pizzazz has finally had enough of Valentine's actions...and Valentine advances towards her! BS: Hell hath no fury, Don, a phrase we've said many a time because it is almost always appropriate. [Pizzazz is letting him have it, yelling at both him and Nickrick. Valentine, a few feet away, simply smirks. He crosses his arms, one eyebrow raised, and a look of amusement on his face. This goes on for a few seconds...before, suddenly, his face a mask of hatred, Valentine's hand lashes out and catches Pizzazz by the shoulder!] DD: Oh, no! Nickrick needs to step in here and do something before Pizzazz gets injured again! BS: No need for the authorities, Don. It appears Derek Rage is about to take matters into his own hands! [Rage has gotten to his feet, eyes wide with rage. Getting hit in the groin several times in a match will do that do a guy. He gets in an almost-three-point stance, and charges the back of Giuseppe Valentine...] DD: VALENTINE MOVES! [Valentine senses Rage, and dives to one side, out of the way of the oncoming freight train! With Valentine gone, Rage sees what he couldn't before. His valet stands on the apron, arms going up to cover her face...and it's a testament to the skill and conditioning of Derek Rage that he manages to slam on the breaks before knocking Pizzazz into the fifth row!] DD: Wow! Derek Rage almost pancaked his valet! BS: And Nickrick wisely telling Pizzazz to get down off of the apron before something else happens! [Nickrick and Pizzazz argue for a moment, but Rage turns away, his more pressing concern at the moment the whereabouts of Giuseppe Valentine.] DD: Valentine is up, and Rage stalks towards him... ...DISCUS PUNCH BY VALENTINE... AND DEREK RAGE IS DOWN! Valentine clocks Derek Rage and sends him sprawling to the mat! BS: Valentine with a fortunate shot...wait a moment...Don, look, Valentine has a chain wrapped around his fist! DD: He does! Valentine just dropped Derek Rage with an illegal move, a chain-assisted discus punch! [Valentine quickly unwraps the chain from his hand, and with the whole world watching, casually slips it back into his boot! The boos begin to rain down as Valentine quickly covers Rage!] DD: Valentine is shouting for Pat Nickrick...and Nickrick turns, and drops to the mat to count! ONE! TWO! THREE! * DING DING DING! * DD: Giuseppe Valentine wins, thanks to a chain he snuck into the ring! SS: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match, by pinfall... GIUSEEEEEEEEEEEEEPE VALENTIIIINE! [Pizzazz quickly slides into the ring, almost as quickly as Valentine slides out of it. Holding his neck, the young man wisely hits the aisle way, stopping only for Pat Nickrick to join him and raise his arm in victory. The Rose Garden faithful are NOT happy with this outcome, and the jeers and boos raining down on Giuseppe Valentine let him know it] DD: Valentine with a win here in his debut match, thanks to a chain he snuck into the ring! BS: Derek Rage is stirring a little bit... I wonder if he knows what happened to him, that he just got robbed of this match by this highwayman! [Valentine watches as Pizzazz tries to revive her man, and as he departs up the aisle way, he gives her a condescending wave, before turning and heading back behind the curtain.] BS: So far this evening, we have had a poor display of sportsmanship in our opening bout, a loudmouth braggart wrestling a household cleaning implement, and now this unpleasant ending to what was an intriguing match. DD: Say what you will about Ron Paris, Billy Shakespeare, at least he pinned the broom clean. Folks, we'll be right back after these messages. [Fade to commercials.] [Fade back from commercials to a close shot on Don Ditka at the broadcast table.] DD: Welcome back, folks, to Rip City Wrestling. And joining me now, unfortunately, is Owen "Truth" Curtis, who will assist in the calling of the next match. [The camera pulls out to show the two men sitting side by side at the announce table. Don in his usual dapper duds, and Owen in a pinstriped charcoal suit with blue striped tie. Missing is one "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare.] OWEN "TRUTH" CURTIS: Unfortunately? What the hell is that, Double D-Cup? Huh? For WHOM is it _unfortunate_ that my scintillating color commentary will make your play by play look stale and pathetic? You don't know, so I'll answer. It's unfortunate for YOU, Don. For you. Because for the viewer, it's an advantage that I'm here. More entertainment ... more spectacle ... more zazz. DD: Zazz? OTC: I know my vocabulary confuses you, because you're USED to hearing nothing but platitudes and cliches from that useless chump, "Wee" Willie Wankspeare. You'll get used to being exposed to the Truth, though. Why, I bet if we stuck a probe in your ear and connected it to a digital readout, one could see your IQ rising just from listening to me. Or try putting a Ring of Truth DVD under your pillow when you sleep. That would raise it even more. DD: I don't want anything of yours anywhere near my pillow. When you assault my hearing receptors, the only thing my brain cells are doing is screaming, "Abandon ship!" But enough about you. We have a match to call here. Let's get on with it. OTC: I think I smell something. ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / "Your Hero" Danny Daniels vs. /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy [That unmistakibly twangy "Hobo Blues" starts up, and the Portland crowd goes wild as "The Jersey Drifter" Liam Cassidy steps out into the aisle.] OTC: Well, there you go. I knew I was detecting the stale odor of soup kitchens mixed with puked-up Thunderbird wine. It's the only wrestler that ought to come in his own brown paper bag, Liam Cassidy! [Owen claps facetiously.] DD: The last time we saw Liam here on RAMPAGE, he caused quite a stir by walking out of the arena with Danny Daniels' Supreme championship belt. OTC: And since then we've seen him spill beer all over it and put it on the line in a poker game. Not against me, because I'd have cleaned him out, which believe me is quite a difficult thing to do, in more ways than one. DD: Not to mention young Jamie Bond had a run with the title before Liam took it back. OTC: Does that make Liam a two time champ, or just a one-time chump? I guess we could ask Danny Daniels. He would know. [Clad in a blue jeans and his well worn and dirty looking "JUST ONE SECOND..." wifebeater, Liam is also wearing a red plaid sweater, buttoned up half way up his chest. And of course, the first hobo of wrestling wouldn't be complete without his favorite weatherworn black fedora on his head, and a flask in his hand. Meanwhile, Sy Simmons gently cradles the microphone in his well-weathered hand and raises it to speak.] SS: This next contest is set for one fall. Entering first, hailing from Hackensack, New Jersey.... Weighing in at two hundred and fifty one pounds... "The JEEEEERSEEEY DRIFTER"... LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAMMM..... CCCAAASSSSSSSSSSSSIIIDDDYYYYYY!!!! [The happy drifter claps hands with as many fans as possible. He even goes as far as to stop and let a particularly gorgeous looking woman take a sip from his very own dented flask. An honor of some sort... Liam continues on his way until he hits ringside. Once there, the fans seated in The Hobo Section over by the announce table roar to life in admiration for their hero.] DD: The Hobo Section is in full swing tonight. I hear he took the gang out for chicken wings before the show started. OTC: Huh? Chicken wings? Oh, wait. You had me there for a second. I thought you were implying that he knew a wrestling move. You know... the chicken wing... oh, never mind. [Liam points to his followers and smirks. He makes his way over to that side of the ring and is sure to shake hands with Billy Shakespeare and Don Ditka before asking his favorite question.] LC: Where's my hoboes at?! [Which elicits a huge roar from the thirty or so fans seated in the several rows. The fans all dressed in similar hobo attire, it's getting hard to tell if it's real or an act. Given the fact Liam would give them the shirt off his back, it's safe to say it's a healthy mix of both. Liam removes his hat to reveal his mangy sandy colored hair. He sets it down on the ringsteps. Next he places his flask inside the hat. Now he removes the items from his pocket, which include the very same pair of brass knuckles Nolan Dorado and Jodee Burwick planted on him once upon a time... A lottery ticket... A mini shot of Fireball whisky... A set of keys... For some reason, a pair of women's panties... a pack of gum and a pencil. Once done removing those objects, he unclasps the chain around his neck and kisses the cross on it.] DD: I've said it before and I'll say it again, Liam has one of the most unique pre-match rituals I think I have ever seen in wrestling. OTC: You know the one thing that he never seems to remove from those pockets? Money. [Liam picks the hat up off the steps and hands it to Don Ditka for safe keeping. Liam rolls under the ringropes and pulls himself up to his feet.] OTC: Ha ha, Ditcake, I guess you're the official keeper of the hat this week. DD: It's an honour. [Once in the ring, Liam raises that famed right fist of his and salutes the crowd. As "Hobo Blues" fades, Liam begins stretching out in the corner."Nobody does it Better" by Carly Simon starts up, and Danny Daniels walks out. For once he doesn't even look at the crowd of 'his fans' as he points a finger right in the middle of the ring.] D'YH'D: YOU! [He takes two steps forward] D'YH'D: I finally found you, foul fiend! I've looked high and low, but I've finally cornered you in the squared circle. YOU! The man who stole my RCW title. [Danny strides forward purposefully, never stopping pointing his finger at an amused Liam.] D'YH'D: I don't know who you are, or why you stole my title. But your malevolent plan stops HERE! TONIGHT! OTC: Malevolent? Someone buy this kid a dictionary or something? [Danny hits ringside and quickly climbs up the stairs into the ring.] D'YH'D: Do NOT think you can escape from me this time, villain! [Not that Liam is running or anything- in fact, he's just standing there with a bemused smile on his face as Danny gets right into his face.] D'YH'D: You have two -- and ONLY two -- options at this point, mystery man. Number one, you can earn a well-deserved thrashing at the hands of... ME! "Your Hero" Danny Daniels, a man so nice they named me twice. OR!!!! Number two. You can produce my RCW title belt, right here, right now. [Danny jabs his finger into Liam's chest with each word.] D'YH'D: NOW! (jab) WHERE! (jab) IS! (jab) IT? (jab) [Liam reaches out and grabs Danny's finger and begins to bend it back. He leans over to speak into Danny's mic.] LC: Now careful there, lad. The last guy that put his finger in my face ended up getting knocked on his arse and dissapeared for eight weeks. D'YH'D: Ow ow ow ow ow.... Okay okay... [Liam lets go of his grip on Daniels' finger.] D'YH'D: Where is my title? LC: What title? [Danny's jaw drops. Can you believe the nerve of this guy?] D'YH'D: *MY* title. The Supreme title. You were caught stealing it the last RAMPAGE, and I want it back. Now. LC: Well lad, looks like we're gonna have a lil' problem, then. D'YH'D: Why is that? LC: 'Cause I ain't got your piece of tin anymore. [If Daniels's jaw could possibly drop any further, it surely would.] D'YH'D: What do you mean you don't have it? Where is it? LC: It's at Honest Ed's pawn shop, lad. I got me two hundred and forty eight bucks for it. D'YH'D: You.... did.... what....?! LC: I pawned it. I ain't got it no more. I took the two hundred and forty eight bucks and I took the lads out for wings'n'beer. Ain't that right, guys? [The Hobo Section rise and holler.] LC: I ain't got much of the money left... Only about thirty bucks or so. I can give you that after our match if it means anything to you. D'YH'D: Let me get this straight... You pawned *MY* Supreme Title for two hundred dollars? LC: Two hundred and forty eight dollars to be exact. D'YH'D: *MY* Supreme title?! The one whose value exceeds thousands of dollars? LC: Oh shite lad, you overpaid. That thing wasn't much more than a glorified belt buckle. [Suprisingly taking this news well, Daniels starts to laugh.] D'YH'D: Wait a second... I think I know what's going on here... This isn't real... LC: As Jodee Burwick said.... Come again? D'YH'D: This. All of this. [Daniels moves to the side of the ring and points to the hobo section.] D'YH'D: You... Them... All of this... [With a confident smirk that he's figured it all out...] D'YH'D: I'm on Candid Camera, aren't I? LC: Uhmmm... I don't think so, lad... There's cameras all over, though. So maybe. [Liam shrugs his shoulders.] D'YH'D: Oh you guys really had me going there.... Good one, good one... Okay. I knew a wrestling hobo was too silly to be real. So joke's over... where's my title? LC: What part of me telling you I hocked the damned thing don't you understand? I ain't got your belt. [Refusing to believe it, Daniels reaches out to Liam's plaid red sweater and tugs it up... Expecting to see the title around the Drifter's waist.] D'YH'D: Okay, joke's over.... I want my belt back now. LC: Hey, watch it... [Desparation starts to set in...] D'YH'D: Come on.... Come on!!! Give it back!!! [Danny continues to grab at Liam's shirt, desperate to find it and be let in on the joke. Sad thing is though, it's no joke. Daniels turns, running his eyes in every which way, desparate to find his belt. Liam looks at the official and shrugs before removing his sweater.] LC: Hey lad, how 'bout ringing that bell now? [Liam does a double take, looking again and realizing who the official is. Hint: He's blond. He's got on bicycle shorts. His shirt is custom-made -- striped in the back, black with white lettering on the front. The lettering says, "YOU'VE JUST BEEN F-STOPPED!" Give up?] DD: Oh dear Lord. The referee is Eddie Curtis. OTC: Weren't you paying attention earlier? That crackpot judge said I had to work with you to call this Ring of Truth match, but Eddie could be the ref still at least. We've gotta appeal to a higher court and get this straightened out. That's a Ring of Truth belt that Liam pawned and I don't even recognize him as champ. DD: The judge says you don't recognize any belts at all. That was, is, and will be a Rip City Wrestling belt. Even though Daniels invented it. I think. [Liam is still staring in bewilderment at the ersatz referee, Eddie Curtis, who orders the bell rung. DING DING!! Immediately thereupon, "Your Hero" comes charging in behind the "Jersey Drifter and starts wailing away with a veritable tornado of lefts and rights.] DD: Daniels, wasting no time, pummelling away on Liam Cassidy! He's unloading a whole barge full of whoop ass, and -- well, I don't think it's having any effect! OTC: No kidding. I think he's hurting his own fists more than he's hurting Cassidy. Did I just see a yawn? [Eddie Curtis steps between the two combatants to break up the one-sided fisticuffs, but that only gives Cassidy the opening he needs to land a haymaker squarely on the jaw of Danny Daniels!] DD: What a punch! OTC: The force of it knocks Daniels literally for a loop. And not figuratively literally. Literally literally. Because you see, I'm the only announcer in the world who uses the word "literally" correctly. [In other words, Daniels gets knocked over the top rope backwards, to the outside, flipping heels over head in the process.] DD: Got it, Captain Accuracy. Sheesh. [Watching Daniels crumpled on the outside, Cassidy turns to Eddie Curtis and -- with much panache -- horks up a HUGE loogie. He turns to Eddie Curtis and smiles.] OTC: Don't do it, Liam. Eddie will disqualify you _in a Flash_ for assaulting an official. Ha ha. "In a Flash." I kill me. [Liam thinks better of it, swallows his own spittle, and starts to head outside, where Daniels is still clutching his jaw in agony. He grabs Daniels by the hair and rolls him back into the ring. Whereupon Daniels hauls off and decks Cassidy right as he stands up!] OTC: OUCH! You could hear that to the last row! I don't think it was effective, but it sure was loud! [Cassidy just shakes his head, turns, and fires off a right hook of his own, flooring Daniels!] DD: THAT was effective. Comparing these guys' punches is like comparing near beer to Everclear. OTC: Ha ha. That's pretty good. Who'd ya steal it from? [Daniels, enraged, suddenly springs to his knees and charges at Cassidy's legs, taking him right down to the mat!] DD: Now, I don't think Liam expected that! Danny Daniels I think just reacted out of bllind rage! OTC: Even a basic takedown like that is more than Cassidy knows, or can defend against. Especially when he's not expecting it, which he wasn't. "YH"DD: [audible without his own mic] I WANT MY TITLE BACK!!!! [Daniels rips off his "Your Hero" shirt and starts choking Cassidy out with it, to which referee Eddie Curtis looks on disapprovingly. He tries to break the hold but Daniels is oblivious, red with rage as he tries to strangle the Jersey Drifter.] OTC: Well, this is totally illegal. [Eddie starts counting ... 1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... and then finally, he horks up a loogie and that gets Danny's attention enough that the hold is broken. In fact, Daniels is to his feet and in Eddie's face, to which Eddie points at Liam. Daniels redirects his attention to his foe, who hits him with an open hand! The fans and the Hobo Section in particular pop HUGE!] DD: Now that was loud! [chop!] And another! [chop!] Daniels has no shirt on to protect himself and he's turning beet red! [chop!] Not the most sophisticated offense, but effective! [Another chop!] OTC: Look, if that's all Cassidy has to do to beat Daniels, then that's all he's gonna do. [chop!] Those punches and chops are effective if you don't counter them. [chop!] Daniels needs to learn and learn quick. [chop!] He can't go toe to toe with this guy. [chop!] If this was a boxing match it'd be over already. [chop!] DD: Maybe it is. [Daniels collapses in the corner, against the turnbuckles, and falls out of the way as Cassidy tries to deliver his next chop. Out of instinct, he grabs a leg and rolls out of the ring. He stands and wraps that leg around the turnbuckle, sending a shock to the knee!] DD: I think he may be catching on. [Eddie Curtis scolds Daniels for using the ringpost as a weapon, but Daniels just ignores him, climbing back into the ring. Appearing to be in a daze, he nonetheless walks over to the prone Cassidy in the corner, who is clutching his knee, and stomps him on the hand! Then he does it again!] DD: Daniels, going to work on Cassidy! OTC: This is more like it. You want to beat a guy like Cassidy, there's two ways. One, use his power against him. And if you can't do that, then two, take his weapons away. If he can't punch, he can't win, simple as that. [Daniels crouches behind Cassidy and applies a sleeper to him. Cassidy slowly stands, with Daniels cinched in tight on his back.] DD: SLEEPER HOLD! Daniels has it locked in! [Cassidy stumbles backwards, moving away from the ropes where he could have forced a break. As he slumps, Daniels gets his feet on the ground and increases the pressure.] OTC: What can I tell you? It's an effective hold if applied properly, and Daniels has it on there good. Now, this ain't as good as my Good Night and Good Luck sleeper -- it's lacking a few technical adjustments -- but it's getting the job done. DD: What's Daniels doing now?! [With the sleeper still locked in, Daniels lifts Cassidy off his feet and steps towards the ropes, somehow lifting Cassidy, twirling him between the middle top rope, and leaving him in a hanging position with the sleeper still cinched in!] OTC: Jesus. Now what in the Dickens do you call that? DD: I don't know, but Daniels somehow has Cassidy hung out to dry! OTC: Either this guy has the best blind luck, or he's a secret genius. The Jersey Drifter has drifted off to sleep, and no wonder! Daniels has completely cut off his air! [Eddie Curtis isn't impressed though. Being that Cassidy is all tied up in the ropes, he orders a break. He counts 1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... and Daniels releases. The break unintentionally untangles Cassidy from the ropes, sending him flying to the outside -- but he hangs on to the arm of Daniels, who goes flying out as well. They both land on their feet.] DD: Daniels with a punch! Cassidy returns fire, but it was only a glancing blow! And Daniels waistlocks him around the middle and slams him back-first into a ringside barrier! This is getting out of control! [Daniels snap mares Cassidy over the barrier and into the crowd -- specifically, the Hobo Section!] DD: These fans behind us are going nuts! I don't think they're going to help Cassidy, either! They just love a good brawl! OTC: Well, they'd better watch the ring. That's where the ref is, and since it's Eddie, he's not dumb like Pat Nickrick or any of those guys. He actually, you know ... enforces the rules. Like counting these two nimrods out if they don't get back in the ring where the action is supposed to be. [Eddie, by now, is up to 3 ... 4 ... 5 ...] DD: You've heard Daniels. Daniels doesn't care. He just wants that Supreme belt back. Speaking of which, I don't hear you complaining it's not the Ring of Truth Supreme belt per court order. OTC: Meh.When I get my own champion it'll be someone better than Daniels. And if Cassidy steals their belt I'll fire his ass. [ ... 6 ... 7 ... 8 ...] DD: Daniels continues to stick tight to Cassidy, so as to avoid any punches. He knows Cassidy can end this at any time. OTC: Well, so can the guy in the striped shirt. It's called a ring-out, numbskull. [... 9 ... 10.] OTC: And there you go. [Eddie signals the timekeeper's table. DING DING!] DD: These two just got too carried away. And they're not stopping, either! [Daniels smashes a thirsty-two ouncer right over Cassidy's head, soaking him and several fans in the immediate vicinity. Cassidy responds with a headbutt!] SS: [heard over the mic, as the camera stays with the brawl in the stands] Ladies and gentlemen, referee Eddie Curtis has ruled this match ... a double count-out! [Daniels responds to the headbutt by biting Cassidy in the upper arm.] OTC: Double count out. Sheesh. Well, if this was Ring of Truth, we'd have had a more interesting ending than this. This is just Rip City Wrestling with my commentary tacked on. Not the same at all. Hobo Section. Sheesh. Ring of Truth doesn't even HAVE a Hobo Section. Speaking of which, in tonight's main event you'll REALLY see what Ring of Truth could be about. I'm calling it, Eddie's reffing it. Bam. THAT'S your Ring of Truth belt, as far as I'm concerned. I don't care what any judge says. [The two men, Cassidy and Daniels, continue to grapple in the stands, neither obtaining the other hand, as security starts to surround the melee.] DD: Folks, I'm sure they're going to try to get this cleaned up and get order restored. We'll give security that opportunity, and we'll be right back. OTC: _I'll_ be right back. [As the brawl continues, fade to commercials.] [Fade back from commercials to the announce table at ringside. Owen Curtis is, unfortunately, still present.] DD: We're back, and it took security a couple minutes to get a rabid Danny Daniels out of this arena. He just would not let up on Liam Cassidy. OTC: I see Liam Cassidy's still there. His match is done. He should be out of here. DD: Yeah, well, I can't help thinking the same is true with you, Owen. I think you've had your fun. Up next we have the title match, and I don't see what good can come of your being out here. Besides that, we know you'd like your shot at that belt soon. OTC: You know what? I would like my shot. I don't care if it's Pleasence and I don't care if it's Coleman. I beat one, and I nearly beat the other. It doesn't mean, though, that I'll root for either one or interfere. I'm completely, utterly impartial and so is Eddie. Not like Spreadbury who shows favoritism to all his old friends. [Cassidy, drinking beer in the stands behind the announce table, stops and sets down his bottle. He's noticed this discussion.] DD: You know, what you see as his unfairness is really just his failure to agree with all your prejudices and biases, Owen. OTC: Prejudices? Hah. Nice one. You may think that, but it means bupkis. Read the court order, Don. I'm out here, I'm staying out here, I'm calling this match, and Eddie is reffing it. Period. I -- [A large hand with a few taped knuckles taps Owen on the shoulder. Owen turns around.] DD: Look out! [Quickly, Cassidy lifts Owen in the air horizontally, then punches him in the gut as he falls face-first to the announce table, crashing with a thud! HUGE CROWD POP!] DD: Pikey Layover! Liam Cassidy has heard enough and seen enough from Owen Curtis these past few weeks! He's tired of the guy running his mouth, and he's done something about it! [Cassidy dusts off his hands, looking down at the crumpled Owen Curtis with satisfaction. Curtis appears to be bleeding, his head having struck a tabletop monitor.] DD: Here comes Eddie Curtis! Eddie Curtis doesn't like this one bit -- and Liam has his fist cocked and ready! [Eddie horks up a big loogie -- and Liam does the same. They both think better of spitting. Security arrives, grabbing Cassidy by the arms and pulling him away from the two Curtis brothers.] DD: I'm telling you, fans, you never know what's going to happen with Liam Cassidy around. He doesn't seek chaos. Chaos seeks him. And tonight, he had a pier-sixer with a furious Danny Daniels, followed by this run-in with the Curtis brothers. Eddie's tending to his older brother now, and I don't think Owen's responsive. I think he can forget about calling that main event, much as he wanted to do it. Too bad. [The fans cheer as Eddie pulls Owen by the pits down the aisle, dragging him out of the arena.] DD: We'll be back for tonight's main event, right after this. [Fade to commercials.] [Fade back from commercials to a wide-angle shot of the ring.] DD: Welcome back to RAMPAGE, folks. We have taken our last commercial break for the evening, and it's time for the main event. The RCW World Heavyweight Championship will be on the line when the first -- and to date the *only* -- man to hold the RCW title, Johnny Pleasence, defends against the red-hot rookie, Mark Coleman. What a match this promises to be! Any predictions, Billy Shakespeare? BS: My only prediction is that this one is going to get ugly before it's all over, Don. DD: It wouldn't be a Johnny Pleasence match if it didn't. Let's get up to the ring. ___ ______ __ / _ \/ ___/ | /| / / RCW WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP: / , _/ /__ | |/ |/ / Johnny Pleasence (c) vs. Mark Coleman /_/|_|\___/ |__/|__/ [RCW ring announcer Sy Simmons takes up his position in the middle of the ring. Head official Juan Morales is already in position in one corner.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for tonight's main event! [Big last-match-of-the-night pop!] SS: The following contest is scheduled for one fall... and it is for the RCW World Heavyweight Championship! [Huge pop from the crowd as the lights in the arena drop and the guitar riff of Steve Earle's "Copperhead Road" kicks in over the PA.] SS: Introducing first, the challenger... hailing from Memphis, Tennessee... and weighing in tonight at 250lbs even... here is... MAAAAAAAAARK COOOOOOOOLEMAN! [A single spotlight shines down on the head of the aisle as the entrance curtain is thrown aside -- and out strides Mark Coleman, as ever dressed in his grey trunks, kneepads and boots, and as ever with a huge smile upon his face. He stops at the head of the aisle for a moment, hands on his hips, looking around at the fans, who are popping huge.] DD: Mark Coleman certainly looks as confident as always here tonight, Billy Shakespeare! BS: Coleman's fueled by his self-belief, Don. He feels he can come out here and turn Pleasence over. DD: This young man is going to need every ounce of confidence to become the first man to put a mark in the "loss" column for Johnny Pleasence, and take the RCW Championship from him. [Coleman nods, a satisfied smile curling his lips, and heads down the aisle, reaching out to fans on both sides of the aisle, who clamour to reach out and touch him. As Coleman reaches ringside, he stops and points at two particularly rowdy front-row fans, both of whom are wearing Coleman's "TENNESSEE VALLEY WARRIOR" t-shirt. Coleman winks to the camera and gives a thumbs up.] DD: I have to say, Billy Shakespeare, Mark Coleman really does appear to be in his element here tonight. BS: He looks calm, he looks ready. He's enjoying every moment of this, the biggest night in his young career. DD: But we've seen Johnny Pleasence turn back challenges time and time again, Billy Shakespeare. Will Coleman still be smiling come the end of the night? [Coleman finally climbs the ringsteps and steps through the ropes into the ring. He immediately does a couple of little jumps, instinctively testing the give in the ring boards, and then hops up onto the second turnbuckle, raising his hands to the crowd as cameras flash all over the arena.] DD: These fans are certainly behind Mark Coleman here in the Rose Garden tonight. What a reaction from this capacity crowd! [Coleman jumps down from the turnbuckle and pulls on the ropes by the buckles, his eyes now focused on the head of the aisle, as "Copperhead Road" fades from the PA.] SS: And introducing his opponent... [Immediately, the crowd begins to boo, even before Simmons has said his name. "Into The Night" by Billy Idol and Tommy Iommi kicks in over the PA.] SS: ...hailing from London, England, and accompanied to the ring by Matilda Agutter... he weighs in tonight at 237lbs... he is the reigning RCW World Heavyweight Champion... he is JOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHNNY PLEEEEEAAAAASANCE! [The lights in the Rose Garden drop, plunging the arena into almost total darkness, the crowd's reaction building as the song plays and blood-red spotlights pulse...] # And you say you wanna live forever... # And you've got all the time to kill... # And you're living in the dark forever... # In your own little private hell... # Ow! # I wanna rule this world! # I wanna walk the night! # I wanna bleed this girl # Gonna take it all night 'til the morning light- # Ow, I wanna lead this world... # I wanna wake the dead... # And all the undead souls who walk the night # They can suck my... # [The lights blaze back to full brightness as the main riff of the song kicks in, and from the back walks, to a loud chrous of jeers, the Big Bad himself, one Johnny Pleasence.] DD: Here he is, Billy Shakespeare! Here is the RCW World Heavyweight Champion! [Pleasence stands at the top of the aisle, a Camel Turkish Gold hanging idly from his lips, his big leather duster closed to the waist. With a flourish, Matilda Agutter -- tonight wearing a blood-red dress -- opens his coat, to reveal the shiny gold RCW World Heavyweight Championship belt around his waist. Pleasence throws his arms open wide, and drinks in the jeers of the fans with a smirk on his face.] DD: This man lives to be the RCW Champion. We saw him go to extreme lengths to capture the title some six months ago, and he's kept that title firmly in his grip ever since. He certainly doesn't look to me like a man getting ready to drop that belt. BS: Pleasence is just as motivated as Coleman here tonight. He knows Coleman will give him as tough a test as anybody he's faced to date -- and he's going to want to prove that this young rookie can't hang with him. [Pleasence and Matilda stride down the aisle, the champion jawing at the fans on either side of the barriers, not once looking up towards the ring, where Coleman now waits, a steely look on his face, staring down at the champion.] # Are you sure you're so clean and pure? # As you lie here in front of me now... # And you're tempting the lord of darkness... # As you see what's forbidden to see... # Ow, I wanna rule this world! # I wanna walk the night... # I wanna bleed this girl # Gonna do it all night 'til the morning light... # I wanna rule this world! # I wanna wake the dead... # And to all the undead souls who walk the night # They can suck my... # Hey, yeah! # You know it's true! # Yeah, you! # Ha ha! # Play! # [And as the song turns into total Billy Idol goodness, Johnny Pleasence rolls into the ring and immediately climbs the second turnbuckle of the nearest corner and unbuckles the gold belt from around his waist, raising it into the air with both hands to a deafening chorus of boos, cameras flashing all around the arena and glinting off the surface of the belt.] DD: That's what it's all about, Billy Shakespeare. That belt, and everything it represents. BS: Absolutely, Don. Despite the many championships I have held in my career, I never had the honour of holding a World Heavyweight Championship, and I can tell you -- if I could have the opportunity to get in that ring and wrestle for the belt right now, I'd jump at the chance. Becoming World Champion is the dream of every man who steps into that squared circle -- and at the age of just 21, Mark Coleman could make his dream come true here tonight. [Pleasence steps down from the turnbuckle and hands the championship belt to Juan Morales. Now he finally fixes his gaze on Mark Coleman, the young rookie moving out of his corner and standing just a few feet away from Pleasence. Coleman stays focused, his eyes not leaving Pleasence, despite Morales parading the title to the cheers of the crowd. Pleasence, too, keeps his eyes locked on Coleman as Matilda removes the champion's leather coat, and runs her palm down his cheek and her fingers down his chest before taking her leave and heading to the outside. The music fades over the PA, and immediately the fans start chanting...] "JOHN-NY SUCKS! JOHN-NY SUCKS! JOHN-NY SUCKS!" [Pleasence doesn't acknowledge the crowd's taunting. He continues to keep his eyes locked on Coleman, while Morales hands the belt to the timekeeper on the outside and moves back between the two men, the diminutive Mexican standing a good head below both the rangy Brit and the well-built Tennessean. The camera-mounted microphone picks up some strongly-accented words as he runs the rules down for both men, but neither champion nor challenger looks to be paying much mind to Morales, the crowd's chants now turning to a familiar three-letter mantra:] "S-C-B! S-C-B! S-C-B! S-C-B! S-C-B!" [Now it is Coleman's turn to ignore, for now, the chants of the crowd. Both men remain fixated on each other, neither man apparently even wanting to blink before the other.] DD: Here we go, Billy Shakespeare! We've got a real situation developing here, some real brinksmanship. You can feel the tension between these two men crackling through the air like electricity! BS: Each man is waiting for the other to strike first. Each man is confident, sure he's going to walk out of here with the title. One of them... one of them is mistaken. [Morales finally signals for the bell to start the match...] * DING! DING! DING! * [...and the fans go wild as Coleman comes right out of the blocks with a hard right hand, knocking Pleasence back on his heels a moment! The crowd noise surges further as a second right hand from Coleman has Pleasence staggered, and then the Big Bad finds himself whipped across the ring by the Tennessean, who goes for a big clothesline on the return -- but Pleasence ducks underneath it, whips around, and plants a big boot into the small of Coleman's back! Heel pop! Coleman arches his back from the blow, then finds Pleasence's hands around his neck, fingers locked over his Adam's apple, and Coleman is then snapped backwards by Pleasence, who drops to one knee, and brings Coleman down right onto that knee, catching him right between the shoulderblades!] "OOOOOOHH!" DD: My goodness, Billy Shakespeare! This match is starting at a hundred miles an hour, with Mark Coleman scoring a couple of early right hands, but Pleasence immediately striking back with some extremely debilitating shots to Coleman's back! BS: Pleasence knows that Coleman's upper body strength will be neutralised if he can work over the back. And Pleasence knows dozens of ways of hurting you, Don. Coleman will have to avoid Pleasence slowing this one down. [As Coleman lies prone on the mat, momentarily winded by the pain shooting down his spine, Pleasence gets back to his feet and looks down towards Matilda at ringside, who is applauding her man enthusiastically. Pleasence allows Coleman to roll onto his side, and then helps drag the young rookie back to his feet. Coleman shrugs off Pleasence's grip, and reels back, then bends low and drives his shoulder into Pleasence's gut, forcing the champion back into the turnbuckles at speed. Big pop! Pleasence's head whips back with the impact, and Coleman quickly grabs hold of Pleasence around the waist, and throws him out of the corner with a belly-to-belly release suplex! Huge pop! Coleman drops to one knee, a grimace crossing his face.] DD: Mark Coleman with a blockbuster belly-to-belly on the champion! BS: But look at him, Don -- those early shots to the back from Pleasence have weakened him. Coleman may have to pick his spots in this match. [Coleman picks himself back up as Pleasence does likewise, and the two men look at each other for a moment. Coleman gives an almost imperceptible nod, and they charge at each other again, colliding in the middle of the ring. Pleasence rocks Coleman back on his heels with a forearm blast to the chin, and then slices away at the Tennesseean's chest with a series of reverse knife-edge chops.] * SMACK! * "WHOOOOOOO!" * SMACK! * "WHOOOOOOOOOOOO!" * SMACK! * "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" [Pleasence goes for a fourth chop, but Coleman blocks -- and fires back with a chop of his own!] * SMACK! * "WHOOOOOOOO!" * SMACK! * "WHOOOOOOOOOO!" [As Coleman goes for a third, Pleasence grabs his arm in mid-swing, and nimbly hiptosses Coleman to the mat, hanging onto the arm and wrenching it back painfully, applying a wristlock and yanking the arm behind Coleman's back as he lies on his left side on the canvas.] DD: Both men's chests are left red and raw after that exchange, but now Pleasence has slowed things right down again, taking Coleman down to the mat and working on his arm. BS: Pleasence wants to eliminate Coleman's power advantage by any means necessary, Don. Whether it's the back or the arms, Coleman can't hurt Pleasence so badly if he can't lift him and throw him. [Coleman forces himself back to his knees, Pleasence hanging on to the wristlock, but as the challenger tries to force himself back to a standing position, Pleasence releases the wristlock, spins around, and hits a hangman's neckbreaker on Coleman, snapping him to the mat viciously! Heel pop! Pleasence rolls back to his feet and immediately scrapes his boot across Coleman's forehead for good measure, Coleman covering up and trying to roll out of harm's way.] DD: Official Juan Morales now, warning Pleasence about the illegal use of the boot -- but we both know, Billy Shakespeare, that Morales is very unlikely to disqualify Johnny Pleasence. BS: Morales exercises a... "liberal" interpretation of the rules, Don. He wants to see these matches end conclusively, just as we all do. [In the ring, Coleman pulls himself back to his feet using the ropes, but carelessly leaves his back to Pleasence, who immediately comes in behind him and nails him with a couple more blows to the small of the back, then drags him away from the ring and applies an abdominal stretch on the challenger. Heel pop!] DD: Johnny Pleasence with an old school move here, Billy Shakespeare! BS: It may be old school, Don, but it's effective. If Pleasence is trying to put torque on Mark Coleman's back, there are fewer better moves. [Pleasence calls to Matilda, who dutifully hops up onto the apron -- and pops a lit cigarette into Pleasence's mouth! Big heel pop!] DD: Come on! Give me a break! Mark Coleman is trapped in an abdominal stretch, and Johnny Pleasence is on a cigarette break?! BS: It's all mind games, Don. Pleasence is saying to Coleman that he's no threat to his championship. [Pleasence puffs away on the Turkish Camel Gold with a smirk on his face as Morales checks on Coleman, whose face, by contrast, is etched in a grimace. However, the rookie shakes his head when the official asks him if he wants to submit. Meanwhile, Pleasence reaches out and grabs hold of Matilda's hand, pulling on it for more leverage. The crowd continues to give a big heel pop!] DD: Come on, Morales! [As Morales straightens up, Pleasence immediately releases Matilda's hand, and she drops back to the arena floor, clapping her hands gleefully, then she leans on the apron, twisting her face up towards Coleman, taunting him as he struggles against the stretch. The fans begin to chant to get behind the fan favourite!] "LET'S GO COLE-MAN!" * CLAP-CLAP-CLAP! * "LET'S GO COLE-MAN!" [Coleman seems galvanised by the support of the fans, and he lets out a roar as he powers Pleasence off the mat, twisting the RCW champion around and slamming him to the canvas with a modified snapmare take-over! Again Coleman drops to one knee, his face showing the strain to his back.] DD: Coleman breaks out of the abdominal stretch with an impressive throw, Billy Shakespeare -- but it has cost him! BS: Mark Coleman needs to keep Pleasence off his back. [Pleasence rolls to his feet, and picks his mangled cigarette out of his mouth. He looks upon it for a moment, then tosses it to the canvas with disgust, then charges Coleman, boot raised, knocking the rookie to the mat with a hard kick to the face! Big heel pop!] DD: Aw, did Mark hurt Johnny's cigarette?! [Again, Pleasence rakes Coleman's forehead with his boot, then drops to his knees and blasts Coleman's head with a volley of punches, right hand after right hand after right hand, until finally Morales steps in to put the count on Pleasence. The champion finally relents on the count of four, then stands, chest heaving and eyes flashing with fury, as the dazed Coleman rolls out of harm's way.] DD: Billy Shakespeare -- I believe Mark Coleman has been busted open! BS: It looks like it, Don. The battering his forehead has just taken has opened him up the hard way. [Indeed, as Coleman pulls himself up on the ropes, the camera shows a small trickle of blood from a cut above his right eye. Pleasence shoves Morales aside, and bounces off the ropes on the opposite side of the ring, running across and launching himself into the air, then driving his knee into the small of Coleman's back, hitting the double whammy of hot-shotting his throat across the ropes and doing further damage to his back. Coleman snaps back into the ring, landing on his back, and Pleasence opens his arms wide to the crowd, drawing a hail of boos from the fans.] DD: Pleasence almost seems to be asking where the competition is supposed to come from here, Billy Shakespeare. BS: And these fans don't like it one bit! [Pleasence bounces lazily off the ropes, and staggers across the ring towards Coleman, then practically collapses onto the challenger, elbow outstretched...] DD: PLEASANTRIES FROM ENGL--NO! [Huge pop! Coleman rolls out of the way as Pleasence executes his lazy elbowdrop, the rookie getting back to his feet and pulling the champion back to his feet. Pleasence is furious, and shrugs Coleman off, attempting to whip him into the ropes, but Coleman holds on, sending the champion for the ride, and on the return -- HUGE POP!] DD: Tilt-a-whirl shoulderbreaker! Johnny Pleasence is down! BS: That was a big, big move from Mark Coleman. The challenger has to stay on Pleasence now! [Coleman is a little slow to get back to his feet, definitely feeling the effects of Pleasence's attacks. He wipes a trickle of blood from his head, his right eye already beginning to redden and swell. Coleman drags Pleasence to his feet and locks in a half-nelson, then lifts the champion up and *drives* him into the canvas with a half-nelson slam! Big pop! Coleman goes for the cover. Morales drops to make the count... 1... 2... ...and Pleasence gets his shoulder up! Disappointed pop!] DD: Mark Coleman was less than one second away from capturing the RCW World Heavyweight Championship right there, Billy Shakespeare! [Coleman rises back to his feet, his jaw set with determination, and drags the champion up with him. Coleman slings Pleasence's arm over his shoulder and attempts a suplex -- but his back twinges, and Pleasence is able to counter, yanking Coleman down to the mat with a small package! Morales is there to make the count... ...but Coleman rolls through and turns it into a small package! Morales restarts his count... 1... 2... ...and again Pleasence kicks out! Disappointed pop!] DD: Unbelievable! Coleman had the presence of mind to roll through that small package from Pleasence, and he nearly stole this one right there! BS: Notice though, Don, that Coleman only got into that situation because he couldn't instantly muster the strength for a suplex. Pleasence has succeeded in doing some damage to his opponent's lower back. [Both men having sprung apart in the ring after Pleasence kicked out, they both get back to their feet, and now the furious Pleasence charges at Coleman, who ducks Pleasence's charge, and lifts up the RCW Champion, going for his trademark kneebreaker into a... HEEL POP!] DD: Coleman was going for his trademark kneebreaker followed by a clothesline, but Pleasence had it scouted! He just took Coleman down with an armbar takedown! [Pleasence wrenches on Coleman's arm, applying as much torque as possible, then motions to Matilda on the outside, and she immediately disappears under the ring.] DD: Now where's that harpy going?! [Pleasence keeps the armbar applied, Coleman face down on the mat. The fans chant for the challenger:] "S-C-B! S-C-B! S-C-B! S-C-B!" [Moments later, Matilda re-emerges from under the ring, and she has dragged out a trestle table, which she sets about erecting outside the ring, at the foot of the aisle.] DD: Oh boy, a table. BS: Now what could Pleasence want with a *table*?! DD: It doesn't require too much imagination, Billy Shakespeare. [The crowd pops as Matilda finishes setting up the table, running her hands over the wood as if she is touching finest silk or velvet. Pleasence now drags Coleman to his feet, and runs with him at the ropes -- then throws him over the top rope in the direction of the table!] DD: But Coleman hangs on! Coleman hangs on! [Indeed, Coleman manages to keep hold of the top rope, and lands on the ring apron outside the ring. Pleasence turns, having expected to hear the crash of splintering wood, and sees Coleman there on the apron. He charges at Coleman, attempting to barge him off the apron, but Coleman dodges out of the way, and nails Pleasence with a hard right hand! Big pop!] DD: Now... now Mark Coleman is trying to suplex Johnny Pleasence out of the ring and through that table! [Coleman slings Pleasence's arm over his shoulder, and goes to lift him over the ropes -- but Pleasence blocks, and tries to suplex Coleman back into the ring instead! Coleman blocks *his* attempt, and tries to life the champion again -- but Pleasence again blocks, and finally he is successful in suplexing Coleman back into the ring, where he lands with a bump. Disappointed pop from the fans!] DD: Thank goodness neither man went through that table, Billy Shakespeare. This is supposed to be a wrestling match, not a car crash. [Pleasence drags Coleman back to his feet and grabs hold of the back of his trunks with one arm, driving his fist and forearm into the small of his opponent's back with the other, yanking Coleman towards him between each shot. Then Pleasence grabs Coleman with a rear waistlock... and throws him over behind his head with a brutal German release suplex! Heel pop!] DD: Johnny Pleasence is returning to working on the back of Mark Coleman. BS: It's a smart move. Pleasence is being methodical, trying to pick apart his opponent, neutralise his strengths. And I have to say, Don, I think it's working. DD: Don't count out this young man, Billy Shakespeare. He may not have the experience that the veteran Pleasence has accrued, but he's a top flight competitor in his own right. [Pleasence stays on Coleman, moving to drop the elbow on Coleman's chest -- but somehow Coleman keeps hold of the arm, and flips him over onto his belly. He crosses Pleasence's ankles, and the crowd immediately gives a huge pop!] "T-V-L! T-V-L! T-V-L!" DD: Coleman is going for the Tennessee Valley Lock -- and he's got him! He's got him! [Indeed, Coleman leans forwards and traps Pleasence into a cross-face submission, his own trapezius muscles straining to wrench the champion's back!] BS: This is an extremely debilitating submission hold, Don! DD: Could we have a new champion, right here, right now?! [As Coleman continues to grimace, applying as much pressure as he can, the right hand of the champion reaches out ahead of him, fingers outstretched, looking for the bottom rope... Morales watches like a hawk, his eyes on Pleasence's hands, one reaching for the ropes, the other lying palm downwards on the mat.] DD: Pleasence can't reach the ropes! He can't reach the ropes! [But then suddenly the bottom rope *is* in Pleasence's hand! Big heel pop! Morales motions to Coleman to break the hold, while on the outside Matilda smiles and curtseys to her man, after letting go of the rope she had gently pushed towards him.] DD: That... that witch helped Johnny Pleasence escape from the TVL! [Coleman drags himself back to his feet, wiping the blood from around his swollen right eye, while Pleasence rolls out of the ring. Coleman complains to Morales about Matilda's interference, but the rotund Mexican protests that he saw nothing untoward. Meanwhile, Pleasence pulls several objects out from under the ring -- a cookie sheet, a large spanner, and... big heel pop!] DD: Oh my goodness, Billy Shakespeare. Johnny Pleasence has just retrieved what appears to be a... a can of gasoline from under the ring. BS: What on earth is gasoline doing under the ring?! DD: Your guess is as good as mine, but it certainly appears that Pleasence has evil intentions! [Pleasence pulls the cap off the spout on the can of gasoline, and liberally douses the table in the clear liquid.] DD: Ugh! Can you *smell* that, Billy Shakespeare? BS: I'm afraid I can, Don. That is most definitely gasoline. DD: We... we need some help out here. There's a gasoline-soaked table out here, and... this could be very bad. [Coleman has seen enough, and grabs Pleasence by his hair, dragging him up onto the ring apron by force, drawing a huge pop from the crowd. Pleasence wriggles free and wheels around, jamming a thumb into Coleman's eye, and then climbs back through the ropes, before lashing out at Coleman with his boots, staggering the rookie. Pleasence whips Coleman into the ropes, and on the return hits him with a big sidewalk slam. Coleman arches his back in pain. Big heel pop!] DD: Pleasence back in control here, Billy Shakespeare, but we really do need some help out here to deal with this fire hazard. [Pleasence yanks Coleman up off the canvas and drops him right back down again with a jawbreaker. Heel pop! Pleasence grabs Coleman by the hair, pulling him up from the mat, and points to the corner, drawing a hail of boos from the crowd. Pleasence drags Coleman to the corner, and goes to lay a right hand on him -- but Coleman fires out of the corner, trading places with the champion, and starts driving Pleasence's head into the turnbuckle repeatedly! The crowd chants along!] "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE!" DD: Mark Coleman is scrambling Johnny Pleasence's egomaniacal brains! "SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE!..." [Morales steps in to force Coleman to unhand Pleasence, and Coleman complies. Pleasence turns and stumbles back towards the middle of the ring, and...] "TEN!" [Coleman floors Pleasence with a huge clothesline, drawing a big pop from the fans!] DD: This has been a back and forth contest, Billy Shakespeare! [Coleman drags Pleasence to his feet, and slings his arm over his shoulder. With a grunt, he hoists Pleasence up into the air for a vertical suplex -- but Coleman takes a step, his legs seem to buckle, and Pleasence comes tumbling down, holding onto Coleman -- and rolling him up for an inside cradle! The crowd is on its feet as Morales drops to make the count... 1... 2... ...and Coleman kicks out! Big relieved pop!] BS: The damage done to Coleman's back is really taking its toll here, Don. DD: Coleman has had a lucky escape there, Billy Shakespeare! [Both men get back to their feet, and Pleasence whips Coleman into the corner turnbuckles, then charges in after him, nailing him with a boot to the gut. Big heel pop! Pleasence softens Coleman up further with a couple of big forearm uppercuts, then lifts him and seats him on the top turnbuckle. The fans pop as Pleasence climbs up onto the second turnbuckle, pulling Coleman up to his feet.] DD: This is a very dangerous situation, Billy Shakespeare! Johnny Pleasence is positioning Mark Coleman up here on the top turnbuckle, and they are standing above that... hang on a moment! [The crowd pops as Matilda produces a lighter from her decolletage, and theatrically flicks it open, holding it above the table.] DD: Oh... this could be very bad. Is Matilda Agutter about to set that table on fire?! [On the top turnbuckle, both men jostle for position. Pleasence yells to Matilda, and with a cackle, she drops the lighter onto the table, which is immediately ablaze!] DD: My God! You can feel the heat from that fire right over here! We need some help out here! [Indeed, two blue-shirted security guards carrying fire extinguishers appear at the head of the aisle, dashing down towards the ring -- but at that same moment, Pleasence and Coleman tumble from the top turnbuckle... towards the flaming table! They twist in mid-air, and then...] * CRAAAAAAAASH! * "HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!" [The arriving men with fire extinguishers quickly douse the table and both wrestlers with high-pressure foam.] DD: We... we need to see a replay of what just happened there, Billy Shakespeare. [We are shown a split-screen. On one side, live action shows Coleman and Pleasence lying in the wreckage of the table as Morales puts the count on both men. On the other, we see them perched on the top turnbuckle just moments before. In slow motion, Pleasence leaps, carrying Coleman with him, but in mid-air they twist around, and it's Pleasence who bears the brunt of the impact through the burning table, before both men are doused in foam.] DD: Billy Shakespeare, both of these men may have severe burns, on top of the injuries sustained from falling from the top turnbuckle all the way to the outside through a table. BS: And it looks as if the champion came off worse, Don. He wants to keep that title at absolutely any cost, but the cost could be very great indeed here tonight. [We cut back to live action. As Morales's count reaches five, both men stir. Coleman rolls to his knees, and drags Pleasence up to his feet, rolling him back into the ring. Matilda shrieks with fury as Coleman rolls back into the ring after the champion.] DD: How either of these two men are still able to move after what they've just been through, Billy Shakespeare... unbelievable! [Coleman drags Pleasence to his knees, and puts his head between his legs. He hoists him up into the air into a crucifix powerbomb position. The fans go absolutely wild!] "S-C-B! S-C-B! S-C-B! S-C-B!" DD: Coleman has him up. He has him up -- and *DOWN*! [Huge pop as Coleman spikes Pleasence down to the mat, then rolls onto him to make the cover. Morales drops to make the count, and the crowd chants along...] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" * DING! DING! DING! * [The crowd is on its feet as Coleman comes back to his knees, his eyes wide. Morales reaches down and raises his left arm in victory!] SS: Here is your winner... and *NEEEEEEEEWWWWW* RCW World Heavyweight Champion... MAAAAAAAAAAAAARK COOOOOOOOOOOLEMAAAAAAAAAAAN! [Coleman can't believe it for a moment -- but then Morales puts the RCW World Heavyweight Championship belt into his hands, and that trademark smile spreads across his face. Matilda pulls Pleasence from the ring and he is immediately set upon by two EMTs who have arrived at ringside. Another paramedic enters the ring and attempts to tend to Coleman, but the young man from Tennessee shrugs off his approach, and climbs to the top turnbuckle, holding the belt aloft, cameras all over the arena flashing, fans everywhere on their feet!] DD: Billy Shakespeare, Johnny Pleasence has been toppled from the peak of the mountain -- and the young man who has done what so many others have failed to do in these past six months is rookie Mark Coleman! BS: Unbelievable, Don! But you have to say that Pleasence's attempt to try and end the career of this young man before it had hardly begun by sending him through that flaming table was a contributing factor in his downfall. DD: Certainly that plan backfired, and Pleasence is now being tended to by emergency medical professionals here in front of us -- but Mark Coleman is feeling no pain at this moment. At the age of just 21 years, Mark Coleman has become the first man to pin Johnny Pleasence here in RCW, and has captured the RCW World Heavyweight Championship! What a night! [Coleman finally comes down from the top turnbuckle, cradling the RCW title belt in his arms, and now the EMT is able to put a blanket around his shoulders. Suddenly, a volley of fireworks erupts from the rigging high above the ring! Huge pop! Cut to a wide-angle shot of the ringside area as sparks rain down from above, the fans continuing to cheer!] DD: We are right out of time here tonight, folks! The celebrations will continue here in the Rose Garden for quite some time -- but both Mark Coleman and Johnny Pleasence will have to be taken to a nearby medical facility for treatment. We'll be back next Thursday night to discuss all the fall-out from tonight's show, but until then, for my broadcast colleague Billy Shakespeare, this is Don Ditka signing off. We have a new World Heavyweight Champion! [As Coleman once more shrugs off the EMT to go to the side of the ring and hold up his newly-won championship belt to the fans in the floor section of the arena, we fade to black.] ____________________________________________________________________ / Copyright (C) 2006 Rip City Wrestling, Inc. All rights reserved. / / www.ripcitywrestling.com / /___________________________________________________________________/ Writers: Adam Griffin, John deWolfe, Chris O'Brien, Curt Kipp