AGGRESSION 14: Tulsa, OK - 11/20/04

[DBrunkGXW]

[CUE UP: "Imperial March" - Rage Against the Machine. A video montage plays, featuring smoke-wreathed images of various wrestlers, some of them leaving blurred trails as they move.
CUT TO: Beast nailing the Absolution on Adam Benjamin.

CUT TO: Karl Brown coming off the ropes with a Quebrada.

CUT TO: Christian Sands and Lindsay Troy standing victorious in the ring.

CUT TO: Troy Douglas standing victorious on a turnbuckle.

CUT TO: Adam Benjamin delivering a Shining Wizard to Karl Brown.

CUT TO: Golem cradling his claw, smirking.

CUT TO: Boogie Smallz lighting up a blunt.

CUT TO: Lindsay Troy dropkicking Christian Sands.

CUT TO: JA and Sebastian Dodd locking up in the middle of the ring.

CUT TO: Dan Ryan sitting sedately in a chair, staring into the camera.

CUTTO: With a clash of metal, a logo slams across the screen, its edges flickering.]



[Cut to the ramp, where a wreath of pyro explodes around the EmpireTron and several bomblike, smoky explosions ripple about the entry way. The camera zooms in on the screen as the pyro finally peters out, then blurs to roving shots of the roaring crowd as a small banner in the corner briefly appears to proclaim that EPW is broadcast en Espanol. Various signs are visible in the crowd: "BEAST IS A BEAST!", "Where's Lindsay?", "'84 FORD CROWN VIC: NEW WORLD'S HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION", "CAMERON CRUISE IS SO HOT!!!", "Dirty Diaper Dodd", "Big Daddy English Rules", "WE ARE JA-AHOLICS", "Dan Ryan Will Eat Your Babies", "TRUE IDENTITY OF DIS: ELI FLAIR", and finally, "We Came To See John Doe!"]

[Cut to the announce table at ringside.]

DT: Ladies and gentlemen welcome to Aggression!!!! Alongside me as always are Mike Neely and Dean Matthews. What a show we've got lined up for you tonight as we begin the Russian Roulette Tournament to determine the new #1 Contender to Beast's EPW World Heavyweight Championship!

MN: Big Loafy's in trouble, Dave, I can feel it. Whoever comes out of this tournament is going to be primed and ready to finally take that big belt from around his waist!

DM: I wouldn't be so sure, Neely! Sure, the new #1 contender is going to be hungry, but the Champ has held that belt for an awful long time, and there's a reason for that!

DT: Great points from both sides, gentlemen, but all I know is that whoever comes out of this tournament is going to have the chance of a lifetime, and they'll put up the fight of their career for the chance to be the absolute best that EPW has to offer!

MN: Alright, enough talking! Let's get this show on the road!

DM: Sounds like a great plan to me, bo-

[ Matthews is cut off as the sounds of chanting monks fills the arena and the lights change to a deep blue. The chanting monks fade into Nickelback's "Figure You Out", and the fans pop as Beast walks out onto center stage, decked out in jeans and a black EPW t-shirt with the letters lit up in flames, and his World Heavyweight Championship slung over his left shoulder. ]

MN: Holy crap it's Big Loafy! What the hell is he doing here?

DT: Well, although the Champ isn't scheduled on this week's episode of Aggression, I guess he's got something on his mind!

[ Beast enters the ring and his music fades out as he accepts the microphone from Tony Fatora. ]

Beast: I know we've got a tournament to get to, and a new #1 contender to crown, so I'll make this as quick as I can...

MN: Great, I have time to go get a hot dog and hit the tanning salon!

Beast: But I just have a couple things that I need to say.

[ Beast lifts the his title off his shoulder and holds it high in the air. ]

Beast: This is the EPW World Heavyweight Championship! This title symbolizes being the absolute best that this company has to offer. When you carry it, you speak volumes without ever having to open your mouth. Everyone knows what you had to do to win this title. Everyone knows what you have to do to keep it.

THIS TITLE IS EPW.

Beast: And let me tell you something right now, if little pukes like Sebastian Dodd can't get that through their head, then they don't belong in this business!

DT: Whoa! A shot right out of left field from the Champ!

Beast: Now, I know what you're thinking. What I have got against Dodd? We've never met one on one. We've never had issues outside the ring. But after what you said this week, Dodd, I have lost any and all respect.that I had left for you. And just because the Champ decides to name drop you in his promo, Dodd, doesn't mean that he's praising you. No, son, when the World Champion stands up and takes notice of a little punk like you and slams your ass, it's not because he's scared. It's because he's got something to say, and when the Champ speaks, rookie, you'd better sit up and take notice. You could learn something from what he has to say.

I'm gonna say this, and say this only once, so Dodd, you'd better listen and listen good.

It's time to get your head out of your ass and see the light, son. EPW World Champion, or full-time mid-carder, I am not going to stand here and listen to you spout your S(FCC) any longer! If you think that because Cross has won like bazillion World Titles all over the world - A1E included - that this makes him mean nothing to EPW, then you need someone to screw a new brain into your head. If you think that JA winning the A1E Tag Titles and the A1E Cyber Title makes him a big steaming pile of crap in EPW, you're barking up the wrong tree. And if you think that I won the EPW World Heavyweight Championship here in EPW just because of my work over in A1E, then son, you've got another thing coming. Cross, JA, and myself - we're all EXTREMELY TALENTED WRESTLERS. Cross won all those World Titles because he's a GREAT WRESTLER. JA won those titles in A1E, and he's won the EPW Intercontinental Championship because he's a GREAT WRESTLER. But I get it now, Dodd - you're just jealous that JA accomplished something here that you couldn't do. And rather than get off your ass and do something about it, you'd rather sit on your ass and complain "Waaaah! I'm hurt! Waaaah! I lost the EPW Intercontinental Championship to a better wrestler! WAAAAH MY ***** HURTS!!"

[ The crowd pops! ]

DT: Wow, Beast is really giving it to Dodd here, guys.

Beast: And I don't even have to get into the long list of people that I've defeated here in EPW to earn and hold onto this World Heavyweight Championship, Dodd. I may have got my start in A1E, but son, where were you when Dan Ryan and Paul Freeman was issuing invitations to join EPW? They sent them to - you guessed it - GREAT WRESTLERS from all over the world, trying to build a great new company from the ground up.

I got one of those invitations. I was HERE.

Where were you, Dodd, when EPW first opened its doors? I was HERE.

Where were you, Dodd, when EPW held its inaugural tournament to crown the first ever Champion?

You weren't anywhere to be found! AND GOD DAMMIT, I WAS HERE!!!

[ Another pop from the crowd! ]

Beast: Dodd, I have been here from DAY F(FCC)ING ONE! I was here when guys were kicking and scratching their way through that first tournament, trying to establish themselves in this new land called EPW. It all hasn't been roses, either. I've had my lumps. I've tasted the failure, when I lost to Christian Sands in that first title match. From day one, I've wrestled my ass off for this company. I've sat out cards when I've been asked for this company. I've won, I've lost for this company. I've bled for this company. I've had my heart torn out of my chest in front of the world for this damn company! I've worn a dress for this damned company!

And I've proved myself to be the very best in this company, and I've carried it on my god damned shoulders, all the while travelling and getting my ass kicked in A1E all at the same time! Not once have I backed down. Not once have I given up!

I've done it ALL for this company!

So when you walk in here and proclaim yourself to be the Messiah for EPW, the one that lives and breathes this company and would die for this company, all I can say is TAKE A F(FCC)KING SEAT IN THE BACK SON, CAUSE I'M FIRST IN LINE!

[ Cheers fill the arena! Beast holds the title in the air again, and leans his head back, shouting for all he's worth.]

Beast: EYE... AM.... EEEEEE PEEEEE DOUBLE-YOOOOOOO!!!

[ Pop from the crowd! A "BEAST!" chant starts in the arena! ]

Beast: Do you hear that, Dodd? Do you hear these fans? They know what the real deal is. You could have been part of that. You had your shot to come prove yourself and come after this title, and prove everything you've ever said, but instead, you sit there at home, crying in your milk about how you got screwed over, about how the MAN is holding you down, and watch as eight OTHERS get their shot at this title. If you were truly EPW, you'd have gotten back up off your ass and kept plugging away, but no, you chose the low road, and chose to piss and moan instead.

You're not EPW, son.

YOU AIN'T SH*T!

[ Pop! ]

Beast: Now, before I take up too much more time, I'd just like to take this opportunity to wish everyone in the #1 Contender Russian Roulette Tournament the best of luck, and may the best man win. I'll be waiting for you when you do. You've all got a very long, hard road ahead of you to make it to the PPV in one piece, and to claim your shot at the Gold. You're going to have to fight your asses off to get to the PPV, and just when you think it's over, that you've done it, and that your journey is over...

You're going to have to step into the ring with the EPW World Heavyweight Champion.

[CUE UP: Nickelback's "Figure You Out". The crowd pops as Beast leaves the ring and heads over to ringside where he takes a seat and puts on a head set.]



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DT: Powerful words from the Heavyweight Champion of the World - who even now has joined us here at ringside!

MN: Oh snap, it's Bi-

DM: MIKE.

B: Big Loafy, huh?

MN: I didn't say anything!

B: I'm watching you, Neely. I'm watching you very closely.

MN: Meep.

B: Yeah, that's what I thought.

DM: While this is certainly fascinating, maybe we should get this show on the road.

DT: Sounds like a good idea to me, Dean. Let's take it to the back!

B: Joy.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[We cut to the parking lot, where Kenny Lombardo patiently stands next to a parked limousine, the engine still running. He turns to the camera with a bright, beaming smile.]

KL: Hey guys, its Kenny here! Right now, I’m standing next to Nathan Fear’s private limo, where I’m told the members of the Crimson Calling are having a pre-match meeting inside the vehicle as I speak.

[The door is suddenly opened from within. Erik Black steps out first, looking psyched, and also as though he would go off on anybody. He pays Kenny a momentary glance, then holds the door open for his manager, Nathan Fear, to step out.]

KL: Ah, Mr. Fear! Could I have a word?

NF: Not now, I’m busy. Watch the car a minute longer, Erik...

[Straightening his tie, Fear walks out of the frame, leaving a dismayed Kenny holding a mic. Finally, Ivan Dalkichev steps out, holding with him a strong iron cane. He comes to his feet, testing his right leg out slightly, then nods satisfied.]

KL: Oh, Mr. Dalkichev! How is your leg doing?

ID: Much good, thanks.

KL: I see you’re carrying a cane... would there be any possibility that your leg isn’t 100% for this match?

[At this, Erik Black steps forward.]

EB: Here’s the deal, Ken. The strategy is to put me in the ring as much as possible to wear away at the other side. Ivan only steps in when we have absolute control, to put the nail in the coffin. The less he’s in the ring, the less of a chance his leg has to go out again. We’re taking extra special care of it tonight. As for the cane... ****, I just told him it made him look like a pimp, and he won’t let it go. I don’t even think he uses it...

ID: Big Russian Pimp, at your service! HAHAHAHA!!

[The smaller men step back a bit at his roaring laughter.]

EB: As for Dark Carnival, they’re going down. Now, I take my hat off to both veteran talents, but what have they done to impress anybody lately?

[Dalkichev lumbers away as Black is focused on the mic.]

EB: The answer is nothing! Powers and Poe are washed up! They’re HACKS, Kenny! I could probably fight them myself with my arms tied around my back! Of course, things will be too easy considering we have Ivan, who... uh, Ivan?

[Erik looks around as he notices his partner is missing, and Kenny does the same. Suddenly the spot him.]

EB: Hey, Ivy!

[The camera pans around, showing Ivan approaching the four illustrious Empire Girls, signing autographs for a pair of male fans.]

EB: Ah, geez...

[As Erik jogs after the Raging Russian, Ivan comes between Tiffany and Miyoko. With two girls on either side, his massive arms corral them closer to his barrel chest. He’s wearing a massive grin.]

ID: Good evening, ladies! Would there be interest in Big Russian Love?

Ruby: ...ew, God.

ID: They say, bigger you are, BIGGER you ARE! HAW HAW HAW!!

[The girls tremble under his boisterous laughter, and Black finally catches up.]

EB: Damnit, Ivan! You’ve gotta get this pimp stuff outta your head! Come on, we’ve gotta get ready...

[Erik leads his partner away, who favors another lustful look at the group of ladies left behind. The Crimson Calling step into the arena as the irritated Empire Girls shake their heads and look at each other.]

Ruby: Gawd, what a freak...

Miyoko: And could SMELL him? I nearly died...

Candy: Yeah... but you know, for a guy that big, I bet he IS... you know... packin’?

[The other three look at her unbelieving.]

Ruby, Miyoko, and Tiffany: Eeeeewwww...

Ruby: Candy, that is SO gross...

Tiffany: Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking about sleeping with him...

Candy: What, wouldn’t any of you, if you knew he was THAT well-endowed?

Miyoko: ...well, maybe. But he’d have to take a shower first.

Tiffany: Yeah, definitely.

Ruby: ...just as long as it’s REALLY big...

[Cut to a commercial for EPW Aggression for XBOX.]

 

[DBrunkGXW]

Re: Aggression 14: Tulsa, OK - 11/20/04

The Crimson Calling vs. The Dark Carnival

TONY FATORA: Th' following tag-team contest is scheduled for one fall!

[Cue up: "Stay In Shadow" - Finger Eleven. Slowly, the cane-toting Ivan Dalkichev lumbers down the ramp, Erik Black sitting on his shoulders and shouting obscenities at the crowd. A few steps behind them comes Nathan Fear, unassuming but smirking.]

TONY FATORA: Introducing first, accompanied by their agent Nathan Fear... At a combined weight of SEVEN HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE POUNDS... Ivan Dalkichev and Erik Black... THE CRRRRRRRRRRIMSOOOOOOOONNNNNN... CAAAAAAAAALLIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGG!!!

[Cue up: "(Can't You) Trip Like I Do" - Filter & Crystal Method. However, nobody comes down.]

DT: That's odd. The Dark Carnival don't seem to be coming down to the ring!

B: Not that it'd make a difference. Those two have pussied out big time since showing up here. Were they even worth bringing in?

DM: Name value, champ. Name value.

[The music dies down after a moment. A white-shirted stagehand runs down the ramp and whispers something to Fatora, who nods.]

TONY FATORA: Ladies and gentlemen, I have just been informed that the Dark Carnival have missed their flight and will not be able to make it to the arena!

[CROWD: *BOOOOOOOOOO!*]

MN: Gyp! GYP!

DT: What an unfortunate turn of events here tonight-

[Before Thomas can continue, Erik Black grabs Fatora's mic.]

BLACK: Hold on just one ****in' second! We came down here expecting to pound some Carnie ass, and this is what we get? Bull****! I'll tell you right now that we ain't leaving this ring until we kick someone's ass! Now the question is... whose ass shall we kick? Hm. Well, there doesn't seem to be anyone around... except YOU, fatboy!

[With that, Black LEVELS an unsuspecting Tony Fatora with a sidekick to the face! The ring announcer hits the mat hard, only for Ivan Dalkichev to scoop him up and press slam him powerfully!]

DT: OH! This is uncalled for! The Crimson Calling are DESTROYING ring announcer Tony Fatora!

MN: Yikes!

DM: Someone get security out here!

[Yelling an unheard profanity at the booing fans, Black drags the limp Fatora to his feet, slapping him in the mouth a few times. Holding the battered announcer in place, the Indianapolis native calls to Dalkichev, who grabs his pimp cane - and drives it into Fatora's gut like a lance! Fatora collapses to his knees, and Ivan proceeds to beat the ever-loving hell out of him with the cane.]

DT: This is just wrong! Someone needs to stop this!

B: *sigh* Aaaaaalright.

[Cut to ringside, where Beast removes his headset and folds up his steel chair, carrying it to the ring and sliding under the bottom ropes. The World's Champion swings at Black, who ducks and slides out of the ring, leaving Beast alone with the monstrous Dalkichev. The two men stare each other down, one brandishing a chair, the other brandishing a cane. Finally it is Dalkichev who blinks, smirking as he backs out of the ring to slooooowly walk up the ramp with Fear and Black in tow.]

DT: God - this is -

DM: Jesus.

DT: Someone cut to an interview!



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Fade to the backstage area, where Kenny Lombardo stands outside of a dressing room door labeled “Cross”. He’s holding in front of him a stack of notecards that include some interview questions, then looks up to see the camera. Quickly, he stashes the cards away and puts on his best smile.]

KL: Hey guys! It’s me again. Right now, I’ve got the perfect opportunity to ask a few questions to one of Empire Pro’s fastest rising stars. Definitely a force to be reckoned with among the ranks... I am, of course, talking about—

[The man known as Clapper suddenly steps into the frame and cuts Kenny off with a massive clap across his back that nearly pastes the smaller man to the floor.]

Clapper: Hey, hey! It sounds like you’re talking about me!

KL: Uhh... well, if it isn’t Mr. Clapper!

Clapper: Just Clapper, Mojo. No ‘mister’.

KL: Kenny.

Clapper: ...what?

KL: I’m Kenny Lombardo. Mojo Massey worked for GWE...

Clapper: ...bah, whatever. You suits all look the same to me. Anywho, I suppose you’re wanting to ask me a bunch of questions like, “What’s your strategy in this match, Clapper?”

KL: Well actually...

Clapper: Or, “Do you think Cross has a chance against you, Clapper?”

KL: The thing is...

Clapper: Or, “What brings you to Empire Pro, Clapper?”

KL: You see I’m...

Clapper: “What do you have planned for tonight, Clapper?”, “What is it you do in your spare time, like on weekends, Clapper?”, “Why are you named after a venereal disease, Clapper?” All of that crap, am I right?

KL: ...uhmmm, right. I’m here to interview you... I guess.

Clapper: Well I can tell you here and now, that I’m NOT taking this interview.

KL: ...you’re not?

Clapper: No! Damnit, why is it that every show, somebody ALWAYS has to have the lame backstage spot that deals with a reporter asking stupid questions and the guy delivering stupid answers...

KL: ...well—

Clapper: And if that’s not the case, there’s ALWAYS some sort of comic relief scene... something that usually plays on the guy’s ego and the reporters timidity. **** like that, you know what I’m saying, Mojo?

KL: Kenny.

Clapper: Whatever. The point is, I’m sick and tired of that ****! We need to see the ORIGINAL stuff! That is why, my friend... I will NOT partake in this interview. I will NOT answer any questions you direct toward me, and I will NOT ramble on in detail, delaying the next scheduled match.

KL: Well if that’s the way you see it, then—

Clapper: However, because you got all dressed up and ready for this interview—and because I couldn’t give two ****s about the guys waiting to wrestle in the next match—I’m just going to tell you what I think straight up.

KL: ...and that is?

[Clapper juts a thumb in the direction of the door they are standing beside.]

Clapper: Right now, Cross better be in there, saying his prayers... or doing his mantra, or whatever it is that religious bastard does when the time of his destruction is nigh. Simply put, in this industry, there are three kinds of people. First...

[He points into the chest of Kenny Lombardo.]

Clapper: There’s guys like you, Mojo...

KL: Kenny.

Clapper: I said Kenny. There’s guys like YOU, who have no talent, no body, and don’t even bother trying. The reporters, the commentators, the refs... you get what I’m saying.

KL: Completely.

Clapper: Then, you’ve got the wrestlers. They’re a step up above the suits. They’ve got a lot of fighting spirit, determination, and talent to boot. You can split these guys into several levels, but there is ONE that stands above them.

KL: ...and that is?

Clapper: ME, damnit! I am the apex of competitive spirit! It doesn’t matter how good the wrestlers—or THIS guy—are in the ring, because I’ve been there and done that. My skill exceeds their ring talent...

[Sighing confidently, Clapper crosses his arms over his chest.]

Clapper: And for that reason, tonight’s match will be a piece of cake...

KL: ...good to know.

Clapper: You’re ******* right it’s good to know! But I’m done answering questions for now, Kenny.

KL: ...I didn’t ask any questions.

Clapper: Whatever, Mojo.

KL: Kenny.

Clapper: I said Kenny, damnit! You callin’ me a liar?

KL: ...well, yeah.

Clapper: HAH!! You don’t even know the HALF of me you ingrate!

KL: ...what are you talking about?

Clapper: Enough! I’m done wasting my time with you...

[Clapper holds up his arms in frustration and walks away. Kenny only looks to the camera with a confused expression, and rubs his forehead.]

KL: ...now I have a head ache. What just went on here?

[Cut to a commercial for Burger Sultan.]

 

[DBrunkGXW]

Re: Aggression 14: Tulsa, OK - 11/20/04

DT: Welcome back, folks. Just to give you an update, Tony Fatora has been taken to a local medical facility to receive attention.
MN: And get a load of our new ring announcer!

[Cut to the ring, where we see... Empire Girl Tiffany, now wearing a smart business suit and glasses.]

DT: It seems Empire Girl Tiffany has offered her services as ring announcer in Tony Fatora's absence.

DM: Don't sell her short, Dave. She's the same Tiff Marais from MCW who used to run the backstage interviews. She knows her stuff.

MN: And she's hot too!

[Cut back to ringside.]

DT: Well, ladies and gentlemen, the time is near for some more tag team action, with the titles on the line!

MN: Hey, has anyone heard from my future wife?

DT: I'm pretty sure that if Troy heard you calling her your future wife, she'd rip your juggular right from your throat.

MN: Like Bruce Lee? Sweet!

DM: I don't think our bird-brained friend quite knows the ramifications of his words sometimes.

DT: Quite right. But again, I don't know if Christian Sands knows the ramifications of the match he was booked for this week.

DM: Christian will be fine, he always is when his back is against the wall...or against the bed, if you know what I'm sayin. Heh.

DT: Let's just move away from the sexual innuendos for a second and talk about some cold facts here. No one has seen Lindsay Troy since Wrestleverse I from Denver. There's been so much speculation as to where she's been and so many rumors floating around.

MN: Oh yeah? Like what.

DT: One rumor is that Craig Miles...

MN: THOU SHALT NOT NAME THAT NAME ON EPW PROGRAMMING!

DT: You're such a twit. Anyway, it's rumored that the Cocky-one made good on a promise to get to Troy in whatever fed she stepped foot in after opposing him in fWo. It's also been rumored that she might have been kidnapped, perhaps by Melton.

DM: Do you really think Melton would be that stupid? Or desperate?

MN: Why I oughta...

DT: Cool it Neely. All these are just rumors, although it is a coincidence that Melton hasn't been seen or heard from since the pay-per-view either. But all that is just speculation.

DM: I hope it didn't come to the two of them running off and getting married. Christian would be devastated.

MN: As would I...

DT: Let's just talk about some facts now, shall we? Like I said, no one's seen her since Wrestleverse I. No one's been in contact with her. I talked to Christian earlier tonight, he hasn't heard from her and Dan Ryan wasn't available for comment.

DM: Our thoughts go out to Lindsay Troy, wherever she may be right now.

MN: COME BACK TO US, TROY! DON'T LET CHRISTIAN GO AT IT ALONE!

DT: Neely...

DM: ...you're an idiot.

[Without any indication or warning, "Stay In Shadow" by Finger Eleven slams over the PA system.]

MN: What the hell?

DM: Now what's this about?

[Erik Black appears from the entrance and makes his way down to the ring, receiving the usual Crimson Calling crowd reaction. He pays them no mind as he comes down the ramp.]

DT: It's Erik Black! What is he doing here?

DM: Oop, better watch your chair, Mike!

MN: You can bet I am, this very minute!

[Black comes around the ring, toward the commentary table. He takes an unused chair from nearby and takes a seat next to Mike at the table, donning his own headset.]

DT: Well it... it seems as though Erik Black has come to join us at commentary.

DM: What a pleasant surprise...

EB: Hey, guys...

MN: Uhh... howdy-doo, Mr. Black! You aren't here to take my chair again, are you?

EB: Nah, that's okay, Mike... I found one already.

DT: Well, while you're here, I think you should be congratulated for your victory earlier tonight against the Dark Carnival...

EB: Hey, thanks Dave, but let's not get into that now. We have a match to get to, don't we?

DT: That's very true... I think the Second Coming are ready to arrive.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


EPW World Tag-Team Championship
Christian Sands/"The Queen of the Ring" Lindsay Troy (c) vs. Second Coming

["The Final Countdown" by Europe. As the opening chords of "The Final Countdown" play, the arena goes black. As the introduction of the song continues, the words "A New Time Has Come" flash on the big screen above the ramp. As the words "The Final Countdown" are heard for the first time, an elaborate display of fireworks and lights signal the entrance of Matt Johansson and Bryan Storms. They walk swiftly past the tables and chair surrounding the ring, before sliding simultaneously under the bottom rope to pose on opposite turnbuckles, taunting the crowd.]

TIFFANY MARAIS: Introducing first, at a combined weight of four hundred and seventy pounds... "The Perfect Ten" Matt Johansson, "The New Icon" Bryan Storms.... your new #1 Contenders to the EEEEEEEEPW WORLD Tag Team Championships... SECOOOOOOOOOOND... COOOOOOOOOOMIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!!!!!

EB: I think someone should let these guys know their song is lame...

DT: Yes... as we all well know, it was the Crimson Calling that unfortunately took a loss last week at Aggression to the Second Coming, after Ivan Dalkichev's leg had apparently sustained an injury.

DM: How is Ivan doing, Erik?

EB: Not bad... he merely stretched it in a wrong way during that match. Had I not broken things up at the time I did, it would have very likely been broken. So, we took a loss... I'm not happy about it, but it was something that had to be done. Right now, Ivan is recovering, and we're poised to bounce back in the tag title scene...

["The Final Countdown" segues into "Heartbreaker" by Led Zeppelin.]

MN: I can imagine it must have been heart-breaking to have been Tag Team champions one moment, and being beaten by the Second Coming the next.

EB: Hold the phone here, Mike... the Crimson Calling was never BEATEN by the Second Coming.

["Heartbreaker" continues, but Lindsay Troy doesn't appear from the back. The music quietly cuts off and "Dark Machine" by Paul Oakenfold replaces it. Christian Sands appears from the curtains alone, shaking his head, before making his way to the ring. He intensely glares at Johannson and Storms as he nears the apron.]

DT: Here comes Christian Sands, alone... carrying both belts.

EB: We merely faced a set-back. That doesn't mean the Second Coming is better than us-they got LUCKY...

DM: Sands looks psyched... he's ready to compete, even if it means by himself.

EB: It pisses me off, Mike... we busted our ASSES to be what we are today! We decimated all competition that came before us, and we EARNED those belts! And can you believe it? At the end of one match, Ivan screws up his leg on a flawed fall to the outside, and we're forced to be put on the bench...

DT: Sands is in the ring, and now this match is about to get underway...

EB: Bryan Storms seems to think that it's a coincidence that we left the second they signed on. Really, is an injury that coincidental? I'll tell you what a coincidence is... it's when you return to the ring, ready to get down to some serious destruction, and the SAME injury resurfaces halfway through the match, and royally screws over your game plan! THAT'S a coincidence!

MN: Uh huh...

DM: (get this guy some Ritalin, Dave...)

DT: It looks like Bryan Storms will be the one starting things off. The bell rings, and here we go! Sands and Storms circling each other in the ring...

EB: But do you know what REALLY pisses me off?

MN: Uhh...

DM: Ahem... Sands and Storms lock up! Sands quickly goes behind and puts Bryan Storms into a hammerlock... Storms quickly uses the elbow and goes to the reversal! Storms, preparing for a GERMAN SUPLEX-AND SANDS lands on his feet...

DT: Storms is PUT DOWN with a forearm to the face by Sands!

EB: Now that we've taken this loss, the Second Coming have done nothing but BRAG about it!

MN: Uh, Mr. Black? We're trying to call a match.

EB: Don't interrupt me, damn it!

DM (sarcastically): Don't interrupt, Mike, he's on a roll...

DT: Storms coming back to his feet, and locks up with Sands again...

EB: What was it Bryan Storms said about us? Our combined IQ doesn't amount to a jar of peanut butter, and the non-chunky kind?

MN: Something to those lines, yes.

DT: Sands overpowering, moves Storms into the corner...

EB: It's embarrassing, to take that kind of loss to a pair of untalented HACKS like the Second Coming, who rely only on the tough talk and self-absorbed egos to get them through week to week!

DT: KNIFE-EDGE CHOP ACROSS THE CHEST...

MN: WHOOOO!!

EB: It's not about how good you think you are... it's about how good you ARE, period! Like the Crimson Calling! And now we've got THESE two morons walking around, thinking they're hot sh...

DT: FAMILY SHOW!!!

EB: ...when all that happened was as simple stroke of bad luck in our direction!

DM: Another knife-edge chop.

MN: WHOOOO!!!

EB: I'm telling you here and now, Mike... NOTHING is finished between the Crimson Calling and the Second Coming...

MN: ...well, by the way you speak, that is certainly obvious. The Second Coming right now, however, seem to have their hands full with Christian Sands, who takes Bryan Storms by the arm, and whips him HARD into the other corner!

DM: Don't speak too soon, Mike. It's still very early in this match.

EB: If Christian Sands is half as good as he THINKS he is, he should have no problem handling these two...

DT: Sands follows, and delivers a KNEE to the gut... and follows through with a HIPTOSS to put Bryan Storms to the ground!

DM: Storms is quickly back onto his feet, and Sands PUTS HIM DOWN with a painful-looking jawbreaker!

EB: The only way to shut that mouth is by force...

MN: Christian Sands makes the cover...

One...

Two...

No! Easy kickout for Bryan Storms...

DM: Christian Sands seems to be doing pretty well on his own, without the aid of Lindsay Troy...

MN: We'll see how long he holds out on his own after a while...

DT: Sands now has Bryan Storms back on his feet, and puts him into a headlock... Storms refuses to stay grounded to the mat, and goes into Sands' side with a series of elbows! Bryan Storms breaks free and hits the ropes...

DM: NO!! Put down with a DESTRUCTIVE clothesline!

DT: That nearly-

MN: Took his head off, right?

DT: Well... yeah.

MN: You know... maybe we should come up with a new slogan for the "nearly decapitating clothesline." What do you guys think?

DT: I like tradition myself...

DM: Sands, meanwhile, going for a Fujiwara Armbar...

EB: You guys already have a bevy of lines to use. Just mix it up a bit...

MN: Yeah, next time someone gets hit with a clothesline, we'll say, "That nearly turned him inside out!" or "That knocked him into next Sunday!"

DM: Whatever works... let's just call the match.

DT: Storms is inching closer to the ropes... and he has a firm grip on the bottom rope! The ref is telling Sands to break the hold!

DM: Sands breaks and-WHOA! Looks like he's giving the ref a piece of his mind!

MN: Wait a sec, while Christian argues with the ref, here comes Bryan Storms crawling to Matt Johansson! The tag is made!

DT: Johansson is coming in fresh and ready to tumble! Sands brushes by the ref and the two meet toe to toe in the middle of the ring!

DM: Sands and Johansson are exchanging blows... and it looks like Matt Johansson may be coming out on top on this one!

EB: You've got to be kidding me...

MN: Johansson is beating Sands up against the ropes... whips him to the other side of the ring... Sands returns goes for a CLOTHESLINE-

DT: DUCKED by Matt Johansson!! Johansson slips in behind-BLASTS Christian Sands into the mat with a Reverse DDT!!

MN: There's a quick cover...

One!

NO!! Not even a two count...

DM: Christian Sands isn't quite down and out at this point.

EB: Good to know.

DT: Matt Johansson quickly gets Christian Sands to his feet... hooks him into a standing leg-scissor headlock! Going for a pile-NO! Sands with a back body drop!

DM: Johansson quickly bolts to his feet, and Sands charges him head on! Sands bullies him into the corner and starts laying his fists into his sides! Johansson, meanwhile, is focused on rabbit punching Christian Sands in the back of the head!

MN: Mighty fine brawlin' we're seeing here, gentlemen...

DT: Johansson, finally, with a sunset FLIP out of the corner, ROLLS UP SANDS FOR THE PIN!!

ONE...

TWO...

NAW!! Christian Sands with the kickout...

DM: And Johansson wasting no time in getting the fresh man back in the ring.

DT: Johansson quickly tags in Storms...Bryan quickly yanks Sands to his feet and whips him across the ropes, Sands rebounds and is taken down to the mat with a hard lariat to the windpipe. Storms running to the corner now. He runs up the ropes and LEAPS through the air, connecting with a moonsault! The cover!

ONE...

TWO...

THRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNO!!!

MN: Quickness is starting to prevail. They're wearing Sands out.

DT: Storms muscles Sands to his feet, measures him, and connects with a right hand. Sands staggers back, and Storms connects with another right. He tries for a third, but Sands blocks! Another try, another block...

DM: ...and Storms with a blatant thumb to the eye!

EB: It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye, then it's just fun you can't see.

MN: Ha! That's a good one.

DT: Good one? That was awful!

EB: Hey, I wasn't guaranteeing in-depth analysis with my presence here. You guys'll have to take what you can get.

DM (muttering): Unfortunately...

EB: What was that?

DM: Nothin man. Nothin at all.

DT: Storms with a Side-Russian legsweep...he's setting Sands up for a Sharpshooter!

DM: He's struggling. Christian's fighting it!

MB: Aw monkey...

DT: Sharpshooter's on! Storms has it locked in tight, and Christian's in a world of pain. He's crying out, but he's not giving up!

DM: He's not that far from the ropes.

MB: GO GO GADGET ARMS!

DT: He's reaching Dean. He can't quite get there. The ref is on the mat; he's asking Christian the one question he doesn't want to hear. Sands veheminently refusing to submit. He's reaching again, trying to crawl over on his elbows....but Storms brings him further into the center of the ring.

DM: Christian's fading. The referee's pleading with him, but the pain may just be too much.

DT: Sands knew what he was getting into coming into this match, and to say his performance was anything short of valiant would be selling him short. But Storms and Johansson were hungry, no doubt about it.

EB: Getting all philosophical on us, Thomas?

DT: Oh shut it.

MN: Hey he was just asking a question.

DT: The referee's checking Sands one more time, Christian's still trying to muster up whatever energy he's got left to make one last grab for the ropes.

DM: Thomas...look...

[CUT-TO: The entryway, where the curtains part in a billowing fury, and Lindsay Troy, dressed in streetclothes. comes running out at full-speed from the back. The crowd's on it's feet, cheering.]

DT: IT'S TROY! SHE'S BACK!

MN: MY WIFEY HAS RETURNED!

DM: Hang on Sands, help's coming.

DT: Troy leaps up onto the apron, catapults herself onto the top-rope...MOONSAULT into a DDT! Storms didn't know what hit him! The referee can't believe his eyes! I don't even know if Sands knows what's going on. But Johansson does! He charges into the ring...clothesline by Troy! She's daring him to get back up. Johansson to his feet, tries a clothesline...Troy ducks under, thrust kick to the Adam's apple! Johansson's down! Storms is showing movement! The crowd's cheering for Troy for the first time since May! Sands is on all fours, and the referee is telling Troy that she's not the legal person! He's forcing her back to the corner, Sands is using the ropes to get back to his feet.

DM: Troy just said something to the referee. He's backing off her. She's walking over to Sands, and helps him the rest of the way up!

EB: He looks like he's seen a ghost.

MN: Wouldn't you be in a state of shock if you saw someone that smoking hott standing in front of you?

DM: Only you wouldn't be able to maintain your composure.

MN: Don't put words in my mouth, Matthews.

DT: Troy's extending her hand. Sands isn't moving, he's just looking at her...looking at her hand...then back into her eyes.

EB: It's not a rocket science decision, buddy.

DM: Shake her hand, Christian.

DT: Sands doesn't know what to make of this, of Troy's reemergence from who knows where...but Storms and Johansson are back up. Both charge at Troy and Sands, they're caught unawar...no! They pulled the bottom rope down! Second Coming hit hard on the outside. Troy's smirking at the damage, and Sands just grabbed her arm. He's forcing her to look at him...

...and he sticks his hand out! Troy takes it, the tag champs have officially reunited!

EB: This is so freaking touching...

MN: I know...isn't it?

EB: I was being facetious.

DT: The moment isn't going to last long. Troy's slipping between the ropes, she's on the apron measuring Johansson. He gets to his feet first. Troy jumps...front-flip bulldog! Matt's down. Bryan's pulling himself up with the aid of the guardrail. Troy's got him by the back of the head and is rolling him back into the ring. Storms and Sands, the legal men once again. Sands is working over Storms' with hard boots to his neck and back. Troy continues to work over Johansson on the outside. Sands picks Storms up...Sandman's Clutch! He's got it locked in!

DM: This could be all she wrote right here...

MN: Johansson's trying to get back in the ring, but Troy's holding him at bay.

DT: Storms has nowhere to go. His partner's preoccupied and he's in the center of the ring and what seems like miles away from the ropes. He's elbowing Sands, trying to get the hold released...Sands locks it in tighter! Storms...taps! It's over!

TIFFANY MARAIS: Ladies and Gentlemen, the winners of this match, and STILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL EPW TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS, LINDSAY TROY AND CHRISTIAN SANDS!!!



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EB: I told ya before, boys. Storms is a PUNK.

DM: Hey cool it, Black. He let it all hang out in there.

EB: In the end, it's the win that matters, Matthews. You're an ex-wrestler, you should know that.

DM: And I also know that effort shouldn't go unnoticed either, Erik.

DT: While the two of them bicker, the referee's raising Sands' and Troy's hands and handing them the tag belts. Sands stops him, takes Troy's half of the belts, straps it around her waist, and raises her hand in the air once more!

EB: Yeah? I'll show you something that shouldn't go unnoticed either. Mike... it’s time for you to move over.

MN: ...uh, why?

EB: Because I want your chair.

MN: Aw, come on, man! Use your own...

EB: No fuss, Mike. Move over or, be MOVED over!

MN: Ah, geez...

[Neely comes to his feet and steps aside as Erik discards his own seat for that used by the color commentator. Black throws down the headset as he folds the chair up, eyes focused on the ring... particularly the two men standing there.]

DT: Erik Black has a chair, and the Second Coming are still in the ring!

DM: I smell where this is going...

[Mike, meanwhile, takes Erik’s discarded seat to sit down in.]

MN: Man, why does it always have to be MY chair?

DT: Erik Black charging the ring, and he slides in behind Bryan Storms and Matt Johansson!

DM: Turn around, guys!

DT: Storms turns around... and gets CLOCKED in the face from the chair! AND JOHANSSON FOLLOWS!!

MN: Double KO, courtesy of the agile half of the Crimson Calling...

DM: Erik Black has just single-handedly laid out the Second Coming!

DT: It seems that when he said there that things weren’t finished between the Calling and the Coming... he really meant it. And whether Bryan Storms or Matt Johansson care or not, I think Black is taking matters into his own hands...

MN: Looks like he’s calling for a mic.

[He’s handed one by a member of the ring crew. Black comes back to the middle of the ring, looking over his fallen foes.]

EB: What up, guys?

[He delivers a boot to the shoulder of Matt Johansson as he tries to get to his feet, putting him to the mat again.]

EB: You guys got lucky last week when Ivan’s knee went out... but that’s to be expected from a man so heavy. Don’t think that you have one up on us, and don’t even DREAM of believing matters are finished between us.

[He turns to Bryan Storms, lying prone on the mat.]

EB: ...Bryan, right?

[He delivers a swift field-goal punt to the side of Storms’ face, forcing him to roll over on the mat.]

EB: You’re the brilliant comedian who came up with the peanut-butter joke, am I right? Cute...

[Another swift kick across the face, gaining a painful reaction from the crowd.]

EB: Because you’re the guy who likes to run his mouth, I’m calling you out. Next week, you and I are going at it... one on one. And when I’m done destroying you in the middle of the ring, maybe we can settle our differences in tag team situations...

[He starts to the ropes to make his exit. As he goes, he notices Matt Johansson trying to come off the mat again. He kicks him down a second time.]

EB: Until then, enjoy your final moments with your bed buddy here... cause when you and I go toe to toe, Bryan... I’m going to eat... YOUR... FACE!!

[Erik chucks the mic over his shoulder as he hops the ropes and walks back up the ramp, his face contorted with anger. “Stay In Shadow” begins to thump over the PA system as he departs.]



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DT: You heard it here, folks! Erik Black has called out Bryan Storms to face off one on one at Aggression!

DM: The Second Coming, apparently, won’t find shrugging off the Crimson Calling to be all that easy...

DT: Well, they WERE former tag champions for a reason...

MN: ...that guy, Erik, reminds me of that chicken hawk in Looney Toons, you know?

DT: What’s that?

MN: He’s like, the short, angry guy whose always picking a fight.

DM: Must be Irish like you, Mike.

MN: Hey, ya can’t mess with us Irish guys!

DT: Well, whatever... we’ve seen a lot here tonight. Lindsay Troy has returned from her disappearance, and Erik Black has issued a challenge to Bryan Storms of the Second Coming. Stay tuned, we have more action on the way...

[Cut to a commercial for Castro GTX, the finest in Cuban-manufactured motor oil.]

 

[DBrunkGXW]

Re: Aggression 14: Tulsa, OK - 11/20/04

DT: We're back, folks! This next match marks the beginning of the road to Russian Roulette, as it's our first of four spin-the-wheel, make-the-match Russian Roulette contests this evening!
DM: And it's an Adam Benjamin match besides, which means money! Woot! Benjamin's been down on his luck lately, but anyone saying this guy can't get it done in the ring is out of his mind. Benjamin's right on the verge of breaking out.

MN: Big! Daddy! English! Wootwoot! That guy's a contender.

DT: Adam Benjamin has proven himself to be EPW's most consistent and dedicated competitor in my eyes. Yet his opponent tonight is something of a dark horse in Golem, a man who has proven himself as a singles competitor outside EPW but has until now tagged exclusively with his partner X-Ecutioner.

MN: Oh, the furry freak, huh? That claw is still creepy. Isn't it illegal?

DT: Well, considering it's part of his body, I don't see how we can ban him from using it. That'd be like telling everyone they can't use their hands.

DM: Now THAT would make for an interesting twist. Leg wrestling.

DT: Let's take it to the stage, where Empire Girl Miyoko is standing by with the Russian Roulette Wheel of Doom!



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Russian Roulette Tournament Quarterfinals
Golem vs. "Yours Truly" Adam Benjamin

[Cue up: "Hurt" - Nine Inch Nails. The crowd boos as the green-furred Golem creeps out onto the stage, stopping in front of the wheel at the top of the ramp. He curls his claw towards Miyoko, who's exchanged her skimpy garb for a smooth black kimono. The girl shudders in disgust.]

TIFFANY MARAIS: The following contest is a Russian Roulette quarterfinal match! Introducing first, from Death Valley, California, weighing two hundred thirty eight pounds - Golem!

[Cue up: "Lose Yourself" - Eminem. The crowd erupts into a mixture of face and heel heat as Adam Benjamin strides out onto the ramp, a spark of determination flickering in his eyes. He stands near the wheel, staring a hole through Golem.]

TIFFANY MARAIS: And his opponent, from the United Kingdom, weighing two hundred and forty-five pounds - Adam! BENjamin!

DT: You can see the focus in Adam Benjamin's eyes as he approaches the wheel and spins.

[Smirking, Benjamin grabs the edge of the wheel, pushing it forcefully into a rapid spin. The wheel turns and turns and turns. Finally it begins to slow, ultimately stopping on a marker:]

SUBMISSION MATCH

[CROWD: *POP!*]

DM: Oh, DAG! What a stroke of luck for Benjamin! A submission match puts him RIGHT in his element!

MN: Golem's screwed!

DT: This spin definitely swings the odds in favor of Yours Truly.

[A scowl etches Golem's face as he steps forward, taking the wheel. He jerks it into a hard spin. The wheel whirls for a moment before slowing, then stopping on...]

X (BANG, YOU'RE DEAD!)

DT: OH! And in the very first match of the tournament Golem gets the black marker! Golem's out of the tournament automatically!

DM: That's the risk! He agreed to it when he signed on!

[In frustration, Golem pounds the wheel even as the bell rings.]

TIFFANY MARAIS: Here is your winner by virtue of Golem's self-elimination... Adam! BENjamiN!



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DT: What a bad break for Golem. We could've seen him emerge as a dark-horse contender, but the wheel just didn't turn in his favor - hey, Benjamin's got a mic!

[Indeed, Benjamin has produced a microphone from somewhere. He clears his throat.]

BENJAMIN: Now hold on a bleedin' minute 'ere, mate. I came here for a match tonight. Now I don't know about the rest of you, but I say this here is bloody pants that I don't get to ply my trade thanks to this dim green nancy boy. Now I rolled for a submission match, see, and I am not leaving this stage, you sodding green duffer, until you tap the bloody hell out!

DT: Golem doesn't seem to know what to say - but Benjamin KICKS HIM RIGHT IN THE GUT!

MN: Oh! Benji's PISSED!

DM: I would be too!

DT: Benjamin setting Golem up in the headscissors - Oh my God, NOT THIS - NO!!! PILEDRIVER!!! GOLEM DRIVEN HEADFIRST INTO THAT - THAT STEEL RAMPWAY!!!

DM: OW OW OW OW! THAT COULD BREAK A NECK EASILY!

DT: Golem is down and out - AND BENJAMIN NOW APPLYING THE CURE, AND GOLEM IS SCREAMING FOR HIS LIFE! THIS CROWD IS GOING CRAZY!!!

MN: HE'S TAPPING!!!

DT: GOLEM'S TAPPING OUT BUT BENJAMIN'S NOT LETTING GO!!! HE'S KEEPING THAT BRUTAL HOLD LOCKED IN!

DM: Benjamin's on a freakin' RAMPAGE! This is crazy!

MN: Here come our boys in white!

DT: EPW Security on the scene pulling Benjamin off of Golem - but what a statement by Adam Benjamin! Even without the benefit of a bell he made Golem submit without breaking a sweat!

DM: That's the Benji Touch. Once he gets his hands on you, it's OVER.

DT: Indeed.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Russian Roulette Tournament Quarterfinals
Dis vs. Priest

DT: A lot of attention has been focused on this next match. Priest has made quite a splash here in Empire Pro Wrestling thus far, but he's up against a complete unknown in the man who has identified himself as Dis.

MN: YOU DISSIN' ME, BURGERMAN?!?!

DM: MIKE! Shut up! Read Dante's Inferno please kaythanks lol.

MN: ...Tell me you're not speaking AOL.

DM: Rofflemao dude A-S-L please. Lollerskates. Tee-tee-why-ell.

MN: My head just exploded.

DT: Good.

MN: You're not helping, Burgerboy.

DT: Can we just cut to ringside, please?

[On cue, we cut to ringside, where Miyoko is resetting the Wheel of Doom. Cue up: "I Am The Bullgod" - Kid Rock. With his jaw set, Priest walks slowly out to the wheel, glaring at the object.]

TIFFANY MARAIS: The following contest is a Russian Roulette quarterfinal match! Introducing first, from Detroit Rock City, weighing two hundred and forty-eight pounds... Puh-RIEST!

[There is silence for a long moment. Cue up: "Hallowed Be Thy Name" - Iron Maiden. Fog spews from the entrance ramp as a tall figure in concealing clothing steps forth. The man is lean for his height, his face hidden by a black mask, a black dress shirt and track pants draped across his supple frame. Slowly the figure stalks to the wheel, the mask swiveling to gaze balefully at Priest.]

TIFFANY MARAIS: And his opponent, from Wisdom, Montana, weighing two hundred and two pounds - Dis!

MN: Wow. That guy's tall.

DT: Just from one look at him, you can tell he's quick but strong. He's got a leverage advantage but he's lean enough to still be very, very fast. I would NOT want to wrestle that guy in a straight match.

[The two men stand on either side of the wheel, staring at each other. It is Priest who moves first, smirking softly as he gives the wheel a spin. The wheel turns a few times before slowing, settling on a tag...]

FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE

DM: Ooh, nice.

[For his part, Dis seems unmoved. The tall figure steps up to the wheel and spins it hard. It whirls around before steadily slowing, slowing, slowing, before finally stopping on...]

SUBMISSION MATCH

MN: Ooh. Two matches in a row.

DT: Now THAT'S a stipulation you don't see every day. A falls count anywhere submission match - the first of its kind on this circuit, I believe.

DM: The second. There was a triple threat falls-count-anywhere submission match in MCW between Adam Benjamin, Sean Edmunds, and Theo, back when A-Benj was World's Champion.

DT: Well, this should make for an interesting match indeed - BECAUSE PRIEST IS GETTING A HEADSTART BY SLUGGING DIS IN THE FACE!

[SFX: *DING* - Bell rings.]

DT: Priest slugging away at Dis with meaty right hands, pressing his weight advantage here. Dis has six inches of height, but Priest has about forty-five more pounds of heft in his favor.

DM: Priest is gonna have to be like a pit bull here. If he can get in there and hammer at Dis relentlessly, Dis won't be able to use his speed.

MN: So can we call Priest Pugsy?

DM: ...I hate you. With all my heart.

DT: Priest hammering away fiercely on Dis, backing him up against the stage... the heavier man with a shoulder to the gut of Dis! And there's the SNAPMARE onto the steel!

MN: Landed on his butt! Haha!

DT: Now Priest with the headlock on Dis - Slugging at the side of the head - AND NOW TRYING TO TEAR DIS' MASK OFF!!

DM: Dis is fighting him off!

DT: The masked man fighting back with fists to the face of Priest, and Priest stumbling back! Both men up... Priest looks for a clothesline... DIS MONKEY-FLIPS HIM OFF THE EDGE OF THE STAGE INTO THE PRODUCTION EQUIPMENT EIGHT FEET BELOW!!!

MN: AAAAAH!!! CRAZY!!!

DM: Holy SMOKES! Priest got DUMPED!

DT: Wait! Dis standing at the edge of the stage - SWANTON BOMB!!! SWANTON OFF THE STAGE AND ONTO PRIEST DOWN BELOW! What a daredevil this man is!

DM: This guy's dangerous, Dave Thomas! Look at how willing he is to put his body on the line for the sake of damaging his opponent!

DT: Dis is the first to his feet, pulling Priest up by the hair, and it looks like Priest is holding those ribs - and Dis goes right to the weak spot with a knee to the sternum! Priest doubled over here, and Dis hammers him with clubbing blows to the back. Picks him up - BODY SLAM into the rubble!

MN: Priest just got Dissed!

DT/DM: *groan*

MN: What?

DT: It seems Priest is in dire straits already here, folks. Dis with the big knee drop to the ribs of Priest, and the heavier man shouts in pain and rolls away! No use, though - Dis like a rabid dog here, tails right after Priest and brings him to his feet, and there's the vertical suplex from the masked wrestler!

DM: Look at how Dis works over those ribs, Dave Thomas. He saw Priest hurt himself on that fall to the equipment, he saw it and he took advantage. This guy has got to be a veteran - he's got a good handle on psychology.

MN: Plus he wears black. Black rules.

DM: Michael. Silence.

MN: *whimper*

DT: Now Dis cradling the head of Priest, bringing him to his feet. Grabs the arm... Irish whip towards the side of the stage - Priest reverses, and Dis eats the steel face-first!

MN: Ooooh! That's gonna hurt in the morning!

DT: Dis staggers back, and Priest is waiting for him - GERMAN SUPLEX INTO THE WRECKAGE, AND DIS IS REELING!

DM: But Priest looks like he hurt himself on that suplex, too!

DT: You can see Priest holding his ribs as he comes to his feet, stomping away at the right leg of Dis. Down to the floor... Kneebar to Dis, and the masked man is writhing in pain!

MN: Pugsy's got him!

DM: But Dis isn't screaming or anything! This guy's discipline is IRON! At most you can hear him grunting or growling, but he's keeping any instinctive reactions bottled up. It's gonna take a lot to make this guy submit, Dave Thomas.

DT: You know, you're right, Dean! This Dis strikes me as someone who's been at this for a long time and who knows how to avoid defeat. He's fighting against Priest's hold... And he rolls onto his back and scissors his legs around Priest's waist in a modified triangle hold!

DM: Oooooooh. Mixed martial arts action. This guy's good.

MN: Is that even a hold?

DM: It is now.

DT: Priest struggling to get out of the hold, but Dis... releases him? Now grabs him by the hair... modified reverse DDT by Dis, driving Priest's back into his knee!

DM: Very chic. I like this Dis. He's got his act together.

DT: Dis taking Priest by the hair now, not letting up for a moment. The Irish whip - Sends Priest over the guardrail and into the fans! Now Dis charging - BOOSTS OVER THE GUARDRAIL WITH A HILO ONTO PRIEST!!!

[CROWD: "DIS DIS DIS DIS DIS DIS DIS DIS"]

MN: Hoo-wah! That was slick like nobody's business!

DM: This guy is gold. Pure gold.

DT: Looks like Dis is in control here, leading Priest through the crowd to the concession area, slugging him occasionally to keep him stunned... and now WHIPPING HIM INTO A CHILI DOG STAND! Priest spills over the counter!

MN: Oof! Priest's getting his butt handed to him!

DT: Like a shark smelling blood Dis moves in again... AND GETS SQUIRTED IN THE FACE! THE MUSTARD! THE MUSTARD! PRIEST WITH THE MUSTARD TO THE FACE OF DIS!

MN: YyyeeeeeeeeeeUCK!

DM: Mask or no mask, that crap got into Dis' eyeholes!

DT: Dis staggering back, trying to scrub the mustard out of his eyes - BUT PRIEST NAILS HIM WITH A HUGE SPEAR! Now the man from Detroit Rock City hammering at the mustard-smeared face of Dis!

DM: There he goes - pitbulling! He's getting in there and just pummeling the hell out of Dis!

DT: Those big meaty right hands to the face of Dis - now Priest up, bringing Dis with him - Sets him up, and - MY GOD, THE ROUNDABOUT DDT ONTO THE TILE FLOOR!!!

MN: OOOOOGH! Ow!

DM: THE TILE CRACKED!

MN: Now THAT'S impact!

DT: This could be all over for Dis here, folks! Priest to his feet - and look at him pointing and laughing at Dis! What a pompous fool!

MN: Pugsy's gettin' his yuks tonight, eh.

DT: Priest in again, bringing Dis to his feet... locks in the big dragon sleeper, and it looks like it could be all over!

DM: I don't know if Dis can last like this. Priest really did a number on him with that Roundabout on the tile.

MN: Dis be all done, yo!

DT: Looks like Dis is limp - Wait - Dis hooks his arm around Priest's waist - FLIPS HIMSELF AROUND - NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX FROM DIS TO PRIEST! WHAT IMPACT!

DM: HOLY CRAP! THAT COUNTER WAS NUTSO!

MN: WHOA NELLY!

DT: Dis is in the driver's seat again! Boosts Priest up - CANADIAN BACKBREAKER! He's got Priest locked in that over-the-shoulder submission, and Priest is screaming in pain!

DM: It's DONE! Priest's ribs and back are being torn apart by this hold!

MN: Priest ain't tapping!

DT: Priest is holding on - BUT DIS JUMPS AND JARS PRIEST'S BODY DOWN AGAINST HIS SHOULDER! AND AGAIN! AND AGAIN, AND PRIEST CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!! HE'S TAPPING OUT!!! PRIEST TAPS OUT!!!

[SFX: *DING*]

TIFFANY MARAIS: Here is your winner... Dis!

DT: What a debut for Dis here tonight, as he takes out Priest in one hell of a contest.

DM: This guy shows promise, Dave. I wouldn't be surprised to see him make the finals. He's got the tools, man.

MN: He's crazy!

DT: We've got to take a short break, but when we come back it'll be Pulsar and John Doe going head to head. That's next!

[Cut to a commercial for the new George Bush and John Kerry Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots - only from Acme.]

 

[DBrunkGXW]

Re: Aggression 14: Tulsa, OK - 11/20/04

"I never thought I'd actually see this belt..."
Troy floated into Christian Sands's locker-room as if she were walking on air. Joey Melton's half--or rather, her half--of the EPW Tag Team straps fit comfortably around her waist. She unstrapped the belt and held it up to examine it. "First thing tomorrow, I'm taking his name tag off. Talk about being liberated."

Sands quietly shut the door behind him and looked at his partner--his partner who had been missing for two-plus weeks. The surprised look on his face had disappeared momentarily after Troy's return after the mid-way point of the match, but had now reappeared as he gazed at Lindsay as she glowed, reveling in the sweetness of victory.

"Fancy seeing you here, huh?" There was a hint of sarcasm.

Sighing, Troy carefully placed the belt on the seat of the couch. She ran her fingers through her hair and turned to face Sands.

"Christian...I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am. I just...I didn't have a choice once I went after Joey. I shouldn't have left you at ringside; I just wanted to wring his neck, and everything happened so fast."

With a breath, Sands walked over to the couch and sank down onto the other end, scratching his right cheek with his nails.

"It happens. You did what you thought was best... and in your situation I may have done the same. It's not like I can't take Cameron Cruise without help, anyway. Well, unless the Ford POS is there to back him up."

He reached out and clapped a hand on her shoulder.

"What'd he do to you, anyway?"

Troy flopped down next to him and bit her lower lip. "Tracked him down to a back hallway, then Evans took out my knee." She absent-mindedly rubbed her right kneecap. "Then Melton came out of a room...I dunno if it was ether or rubbing alcohol or some sort of solvent that he had on a rag. But I blacked out, woke up in a fairly nice bedroom with my knee wrapped and a splitting headache, and found my purse made it there somehow. But my phone was gone, and the battery on my PalmPilot was low. I had no way of getting ahold of you."

The mention of Troy's drugging caused Christian's eyes to narrow dangerously, his grip on her shoulder briefly tightening. He finally removed his hand, rising to stalk across the room. "******* Melton..."

"Christian, please...it's done. Over." Now it was Troy's turn to stand up. "I'm here, I'm in one piece for the most part. I've got his belt; that's the sweet irony of it all."

Christian's jaw tightened for a moment. Finally he let out an angry breath, turning to glance at Troy out of the corner of his eye. "What happens in the ring," he grated, "should stay in the ring, and Joey ******* Melton should know that after sixteen years. He's taken the fight to my partner out of the ring."

Pulling out his cellphone...

"That doesn't fly with me."

In five steps Troy stood next to him, her hand on his forearm and her glaring eyes meeting his. "I don't need you to coddle me, Christian. I put myself in that situation. I made the choice to go after him. That's not on you, that's on me."

He met that gaze for a long moment before looking slowly away, snorting. "You're my partner. Anyone who screws around with you is screwing me around by extension."

A little smirk tugged at his lips.

"Besides, I know a little friend who might take an interest in Mr. Melton..."

"I know who you're going to call, and he doesn't need to get involved in this. It's not his concern."

"It never is. If you knew him like I did you'd know he doesn't do concern. He does his job, and that's that."

"I know about GXW. I haven't been living under a rock." She ran her hand over Sands's fingers, moving his thumb away from the number 2 on his speed-dial. "If you care, Christian, like I know you do, you'll let the two of us settle this for ourselves. Third-party masochistic idiots always do more harm than good." Her hand lingered momentarily before she walked back to the couch to pick up the tag belt.

The big man scowled for just a moment, then finally flipped the phone shut, tucking it away into his back pocket.

"Maybe it WILL feel better to rip Melton apart ourselves..."

Troy gave him a sultry look and a knowing smirk as he turned his head to look at her. "I knew I could reason with you."

The faintest hint of a smirk pulled at Christian's lips. He drew closer to Troy, lifting a hand and running it through her hair. "Mmhmm... Unsurprising. You always seem to know what buttons to push."

"I do what I'm good at. You know that." The smirk became a smile. "And by the way...thanks for bringing me some gold."

The hand moved down her neck, resting just above Troy's upper back. A slow nod was Christian's response. "You're welcome. I've sort of developed a knack for it, and you had it coming. Though I'm sure Adam Benjamin is currently ****ting in his union-jockey shorts..."

"Let's not talk about EPW's resident misogynist. He'll get his soon enough." Her expression hardened. "I'm going to go get changed, get into something more comfortable. Drinks later?"

With a slow nod, Christian dropped his hand from Troy's back, letting it hang at his side. "On me," he agreed to the last bit. "Least I can do."

Lindsay lovingly cradled the tag belt in the crook of her arm. "You're not that bad a guy when you put half a mind to it." She squeezed his bicep with her free hand. "Come get me in forty-five minutes, we'll take one car or whatever."

Christian's responding smirk was a bit crooked as he reached into his closet, emerging with a plain white dress shirt. He couldn't help but recall a prior conversation with Troy... "I'm evil, but only to a point."

A slow nod... "It's a date. Catch you in forty-five."

Troy opened the door and, with a wink, exited. Christian watched her go, lifting his hand to his chin thoughtfully.

"That woman..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He simply shook his head and began to slide back into his casual attire.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Pulsar vs. John Doe

[“Whiskey in a Jar” by Metallica begins to play over the PA system. The audience begins to cheer as Pulsar appears from the entrance and makes his way to the ring.]

Tiffany: Ladies and gentlemen, the next match will be a singles exposition set for one fall. Introducing first... hailing from Sydney, Australia... weighing in at 240 pounds - Pulsar!!!

[He’s awarded a crowd pop at the sound of his name as he rolls into the ring. A moment later, “Hypocritical” by Methods of Mayhem fills the arena.]

Tiffany: And his opponent... weighing in at 210 pounds, and hailing from parts unknown - John! DOE!!!

MN: D’oh!!

[John Doe emerges from the entrance, coming to the ring with a lot of energy in his body language. He slides under the ropes to enter as his music ends. Both men go to their respective corners, eyeing each other wearily.]

DT: Well guys, what’s the call?

MN: Pulsar. Nuff said.

DT: Yeah, well, we know how you see John Doe. Dean?

DM: I think Pulsar’s got the talent, but if Doe uses his energy, he could control most of this match.

DT: I’d be inclined to agree with that... and as the bell rings, this match is ready to go.

DM: Both men circling each other in the ring... Doe goes in low—and Pulsar responds with a clubbing fist to the back of the head! He takes Doe around the waist...

DT: WHOA!! Massive Gutrwrench Suplex, opening Pulsar’s offensive control! What a DEVASTATING move early on in this match...

MN: Look, Pular’s hooking the leg for a cover!

DT: ONE... TWO... TH-OH NO!! Doe kicks out...

DM: That was close... Pulsar nearly stole this match in just a few seconds.

MN: Pulsar brings Doe back to his feet, and goes for an Irish Whip to the ropes... Doe on the return—DUCKS a clothesline from Pulsar! Doe off the other set of ropes—GOES FOR THE AMNESIA ATTACK—

DT: NO!! Pulsar quickly bats him away... Doe back to his feet, PUTS PULSAR DOWN with a dropkick!

DM: It’s amazing how both these guys are trying to put the other away so quickly. I don’t think it will be that easy for either of them, however.

MN: Doe is looking to take control of this match as Pulsar comes to his feet. Pulsar looking to lock-up, and Doe puts him down with a solid shoulder through!

DM: Doe hangs onto his right arm and goes for a Fujiwara Armbar!

DT: Pulsar quickly reaches out and grabs the bottom rope to break the hold... and Doe seems dismayed at the referee’s decision...

MN: Doe and Pulsar are back up at the same time... Pulsar charges with a running lariat—DUCKED by Doe!! Pulsar stops in his tracks... turns... goes for a shoulder-block—countered with a Drop Toe Hold by John Doe!

DM: I think Pulsar needs to abandon the running game...

MN: Pulsar taking a few seconds to get up... John Doe takes advantage by hitting the ropes and following up with a DEVASTATING Bulldog!!

DM: It’s safe to say he’s in control of this match.

MN: Hard to believe from a stringy little **** like that...

DT: Doe quickly goes to the corner while Pulsar is lying stunned on the mat... goes to the top, and quickly LEAPS OFF WITH A BEAUTIFUL MOONSAULT!!

DM: HE CONNECTS!! Hooks the leg for a pin!

DT: One...

Two...

NO!! Pulsar kicks out...

MN: This match is getting pretty fast-paced...

DT: Doe takes no time in getting Pulsar to his feet... Pulsar shoves him back into the ropes! Doe rebounds, and answers with a DECAPITATING spinning heel kick! Pulsar goes to the mat like a ton of bricks!

DM: Doe not even giving him a chance to take a breath... he bounces off the ropes... comes back with a RUNNING knee drop!

DT: This is like you said, Dean. If John can keep the momentum going, he’ll have Pulsar in the palm of his hand.

DM: Exactly. And as Doe brings Pulsar to his feet and takes him into the corner for some mounted punches, my point is further solidified!

MN: A shrimp like that can’t keep it up for long, though. Trust me.

DT: The ref orders Doe to break the series of punches, and he does... jumping off the second rope and following through with a Monkey Flip that puts Pulsar flat on his back!

DM: Pulsar trying to get up... trying to salvage what fighting spirit he’s got left. Doe is already on top of him... hooking his head under his arm... BAM!! Straight DDT into the mat!!

DT: Doe rolls him over and goes for the cover...

One!

Two!!

Th-NO!! Pulsar isn’t out of it yet!

MN: God, I hope not...

DT: Something’s got to give on Pulsar’s side. John Doe is back up, thinking of what he can do next. He brings his opponent to his feet and puts him in the corner... Doe setting up for a TORNADO DDT—NO!! PULSAR REVERSES INTO A DEVASTATING SPINEBUSTER!!!

DM: There you go, Dave.

MN: Pulsar is looking to turn this match around... Doe attempts to get up, but Pulsar quickly straddles him and lays into his head with a barrage of rights!

DM: He looks pissed...

DT: Pulsar lays off before the ref can get on him, and takes Doe with him... he takes him by the back of the head, and throws him RIGHT OVER THE ROPES TO THE OUTSIDE!!

MN: The crowd is behind him now. Doe scrambles to his feet on the outside, but he’s in La-La Land... Pulsar steps back for some distance, and...

DM: THERE HE GOES!! RUNNING BODY PRESS OVER THE ROPES, PASTES JOHN DOE TO THE CONCRETE OUTSIDE!!

DT: What a move!! Just like that, Pulsar has unleashed on John Doe with a series of devastating attacks! Like an explosion, he has turned this match completely around!

MN: Yeah, go Pulsar!

DT: I thought you hated this guy, Mike?

MN: Not as much as I hate Doe...

DM: The ref is at the count of four as Pulsar gets Doe back to his feet... WHIP INTO THE RINGPOST!!

MN: JESUS CHRIST!!

DT: Pulsar is tearing John Doe apart! The referee is on six as Pulsar picks John Doe up onto his shoulder and drives him down with a shoulder breaker!

DM: Pulsar slips into the ring... and goes back outside, breaking the count! He wants to give Doe more punishment...

MN: And I want to see him do it!

DT: Pulsar scrapes Doe off the ground and rolls him into the ring. He follows, and quickly hooks the leg for a cover!

ONE!

TWO!

TH-NOO!! John Doe with the kick-out...

DM: Doe has lost his steam...

DT: Perhaps he can mount a comeback?

MN: Don’t bet on it.

DT: Pulsar brings John Doe back to his feet, and whips him to the ropes... going for a back-body drop—NO! Doe leapfrogs and goes to the other end!

MN: Doe rebounds... and gets PUT TO THE GROUND WITH A MASSIVE CLOTHESLINE from Pulsar!

DM: Damn... Pulsar brings Doe back to his feet... hooks him around the waist, and plants him with a BIG Northern Lights Suplex!

DT: No bridged cover as Pulsar comes to his feet... now he takes Doe by the legs and drags him toward the corner...

MN: Uh oh... Pulsar throws his weight backwards—AND SLINGSHOTS JOHN DOE INTO THE TURNBUCKLE!! DOE EATS THE TOP ROPE!!

DM: Pulsar quickly hops to his feet... gains distance... RUNS IN WITH A CRUSHING CORNER SPLASH!!

MN: JESUS CHRIST!!

DT: Pulsar... quickly FOLLOWS THROUGH WITH AN INVERTED SUPLEX OUT OF THE CORNER!!

DM: Pulsar is on fire!

DT: THERE’S THE COVER!!

ONE!!

TWO!!

THREE—OH NO, JOHN DOE KICKS OUT!!

MN: Gawd, I nearly had a heart attack there for a second!

DT: Three powerful moves nearly put John Doe down for the count, but he’s not finished yet. Pulsar is getting Doe to his feet, looking to leave this for the history books...

MN: He sets him up for the Balck Hole!

DT: Black Hole...

MN: Whatever... hoists him up and—DOE SLIDES DOWN HIS BACK!!

DM: Whoops!

DT: Doe quickly runs against the ropes—GOING FOR THE AMNESIA ATTACK!!

MN: PULSAR CHARGES FORWARD AND DROPS HIM WITH A CLOTHESLINE!!

DM: WOW!!

DT: Doe nearly stole the match right there with the reversal, but Pulsar quickly caught him!

MN: Pulsar brings Doe up again... going for the BLACK HOLE!!

DM: DOE ROLLS OFF HIS SHOULDER AGAIN AND ROLLS HIM UP!!

DT: ONE!!

TWO!!

THREEE!!!

MN: AAAARRGH, you’ve gotta be KIDDIN’ me!!

DT: John Doe has stolen the match from Pulsar!

DM: Wow, I didn’t see that coming...

MN: Pulsar was in FULL CONTROL!!

DT: After two failed attempts at the Black Hole, Pulsar has been defeated by John Doe by a roll up pin. Disappointing finish, but a classy display of strength from both men.

DM: I thought it was a good match too.

MN: I think that’s bull****. The ref counted too fast!

DT: Save it, Mike... Folks, we've got to take a break, but we've got more tag-team action coming right up! Smallz! Dodd! Cruise! JA! NEXT!

[Cut to a commercial for the US Army - 'Join Now And We Won't Draft You!']

 

[DBrunkGXW]

Re: Aggression 14: Tulsa, OK - 11/20/04

Boogie Smallz/"Your Hero" Sebastian Dodd vs. Cameron Cruise/JA

TIFFANY MARAIS: The following tag-team contest is set for one fall.

[CUE UP: “Stellar” by Incubus. Sebastian Dodd heads straight for the ring, his face as cocky as ever, as the crowd boo him. On entering the ring, Dodd merely waits in the corner for his partner]

TIFFANY MARAIS: Weighing in at two hundred forty five pounds, he hails from New York City, New York - Your Hero! Sebastian! DODD!

[“Stellar” fades as we CUE UP: “Black Superman” by Above the Law. Boogie steps through the curtain already smoking a blunt. The boos Dodd heard are intensified as Smallz walks to the ring. Sliding under the bottom rope, he makes his way over to talk strategy with Dodd, though not before he blows smoke into the referee’s face]

TIFFANY MARAIS: And his partner, weighing in at one hundred and forty three kilos, he hails from Brooklyn, New York - Boogie! SMALLZ!

DT: Smallz and Dodd are an interesting team to say the least.

DM: True, you’ve got the technical stylings if Sebastian Dodd trying to work with the much more power based Boogie.

MN: Last ever [BEEP] champion.

DT: You’re still high on them doing that, aren’t you?

MN: Yep.

[CUE UP: “Eat The Rich” by Fozzy. JA is met with a hail of cheers, the intercontinental belt over his shoulder as he plays to the crowd. Jogging to the ring, he waits about half-way down the ramp for his partner. Tony introduces him anyway]

TONY: Weighing in at two hundred and fifteen pounds, he hails from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and is the current Intercontinental Champion - Jay! AY!

DM: JA doing the smart thing here waiting for his partner. You don’t want to go into the ring alone against two men the calibre of Smallz and Dodd.

MN: Or where that blunt is.

[CUE UP: "Let's Go" by Trick Daddy feat. Lil' Jon and Twista. The crowd looks around confused as Cruise steps out from behind the curtain, dressed in dark red rip-away pants, a tight red muscle shirt and a baseball cap on lopsided with a bandana tied underneath. Walking with an exaggerated swagger he meets JA on the ramp, and the team enter the ring together. Boogie does not look impressed in the other corner]

TIFFANY MARAIS: From Jacksonville, North Carolina, he weighs in at two hundred and forty nine pounds - Cameron! CRUISE!

DT: What on earth is he wearing?

DM: Looks like he’s trying to imitate Boogie there. Or annoy him, as Smallz jumps him before the bell has a chance to sound.

DT: Referee Andrew Gardell making JA and Dodd get out of the ring as Smallz rocks Cruise with rights and lefts. Smallz now sending Cruise off the ropes... Cruise under the clothesline and SCORES with a flying forearm on the rebound. He tosses the hat and bandana to one side now, and hits a nice scoop slam on the last [BEEP] champion. Off comes the shirt and pants and it looks like Cruise is ready to wrestle under there.

DM: Cruise twisting the arm there, holding it secure as he drives the elbow into the shoulder of his opponent. Cruise is really taking it to Smallz now, and it looks like he dressed that way to unsettle the Brooklyn native.

DT: Cruise now bringing Smallz to his corner, and the tag is made to the smallest man in this match, the Anglo-Luchadore. Up... and down comes JA with a double axe-handle right onto the extended arm of Smallz. Look for the smaller man to try and keep the pace up against Smallz.

MN: Isn’t Smallz the Smallzer man?

DT: Mike, you know how Christmas is coming?

MN: Yeah.

DT: I’m asking Santa for a new co-commentator.

MN: You still believe in Santa?

DM: Leaving those two to discuss their Christmas lists, JA is really taking it to Smallz, using kicks to try and ground the big man. No matter how big they are, when they’re on the mat they lose their strength and height advantage. JA now with some chops to the chest, off the ropes and right into the waiting arms of Smallz, catching the luchador as he went for the cross body block. Smallz now carrying JA across the ring, and DROPS him hard onto the mat.

DT: Dodd now signalling for the tag, and he gets it. Smallz through the ropes as he glares back across the ring at Cruise, who’s... raising the roof?

MN: Meanwhile Dodd takes JA down with an armbar, pulling back on the shoulder.

DM: Note Dodd’s positioning here; he’s got his left leg in front of JA’s throat, so if the masked one tries to pull away to relieve pressure he gets choked and since he’d be the one choking himself, nothing the ref can do about it.

DT: But there is something JA can do, as he quickly throws his legs up, locking Dodd in a head-scissors, taking him down now. Dodd quickly pushes himself out of the hold, and both men up now. JA goes for an arm-drag of his own, but Dodd counters that with an Irish whip to the corner. Following him in, and JA goes up and over. Sunset flip

TWO

And a quick kickout there from Dodd as JA went for a quick pin attempt. JA now with a headlock on Dodd, working over the neck.

DM: JA’s Karelin Driver is a devastating move and you can see here he’s setting up for it. Though how he’s going to do that when THAT happens is beyond me, as Dodd hits a nice high-angled back suplex to break out of it.

DT: Dodd now going over, and he makes the tag to Smallz, who comes in and just CLOBBERS JA with a clothesline there. Smallz with a couple of quick boots there, focusing on the shoulder of JA, as he now picks him up and throws him into the corner. Big chops here from Smallz

MN: WHOO!!

DT: JA in trouble here as Smallz is being much more methodical than we’re used to seeing from him. Now he lifts him up over his head, LAUNCHING him like a torpedo across the ring there. What uncanny strength from the six foot nine man there.

DM: Looks like he’s trying to bait JA into tagging in Cruise. A man of Boogie’s calibre would normally follow him straight in there, but he’s actually taunting him into making a tag. JA obliges, and Cruise comes in. boogie stands there shouting at the Jacksonville native, as Cruise... raises the roof again?

DT: Ho boy, that looks to have Smallz steamed, as he charges in... drop toe hold by one half of the former tag team champions there. Smallz quickly up, charging in again, but gets sent straight back down thanks to a back body drop from Cruise. Cruise REALLY looks like he had Smallz scouted, doing everything he can to throw him off his game.

DM: That’s a smart thing to do, especially in a tag team match; if one member of the other team isn’t focused in the ring it makes things a lot easier. Ask Sands how easy it was to win the titles when Melton wasn’t focused on the ring.

DT: Smallz now coming in again, but Cruise just clotheslines him down to the canvas, following it up with an elbow drop. Smallz starting to look in trouble here as Cruise has total control it seems.

MN: Cruise control?

DT: *groan*

MN: Well, it looks that way, as he stops Boogie from making it to his feet with a well executed drop kick there.

DM: Smallz scampering to his corner, tagging out. He’s still professional enough to know when he’s not thinking as clearly as normal, though I doubt he EVER thinks clearly. Dodd now back in, and we’re back to square one, as these two lock up. Dodd with a go behind into a hammerlock, but Cruise counters with a hammerlock of his own. Dodd with a sweeping toe hold, locking Cruise down on the mat with a float-over headlock.

DT: Cruise trying to power up but... unsporting but effective move there from “Your Hero” with the thumb to the eye there. Dodd releases the hold, but a nice version of the elbow drop as he lifts himself just enough to drive the point of the elbow down into the back of Cruise.

DM: The thing for Dodd to do now is to keep Cruise grounded, with quick tags in and out. I don’t think they managed enough damage on JA earlier, so they’re going to have to keep Cruise in as long as they can.

DT: Dodd now picking Cruise up, whipping him into the corner where Smallz is waiting. The tag is made, and Smallz and Dodd with the double team now, stomping Cruise into the corner. Smallz with the whip across the ring... HOLY!!!

DM: NICE move there, as Smallz hits a clothesline as Dodd scores with the drop toe hold.

MN: Ouch... Cruise was folded up BETTER than an accordion there, or worse if you’re Cruise, as Smallz powers Cruise to his feet. Scoop slam there by Smallz, who’ smiling as if he were the mouse who got the cheese now finally being able to hurt Cameron for the way he mocked Smallzter earlier.

DT: Smallz dropping the knee on Cruise’s chest there, setting Cruise up and burying him with a double arm DDT. Smallz locking in a dragon sleeper near the centre of the ring now, trying to cut of the oxygen supply to Cruise’s brain whilst applying pressure to the chest and neck which that AMAZING double team move a few moments ago must’ve injured.

DM: JA’s trying to get the crowd behind Cruise, but look how Boogie’s cutting them out of it by standing Cruise up slightly and dropping him down on the outstretched knee? Working as many places as he can here, Boogie’s really got this move locked in tight and it’s going to be difficult for Cruise to break it.

DT: Referee Gardell now checking with Cruise, who looks to be going under here.

DM: Those big arms of Boogie arm pressing in against the blood supply, and without any blood supply to the brain the body shuts down.

DT: And Gardell’s checking that now, lifting the free arm of Cruise up... it falls once. Up again... NO!!! JA, sensing the match in jeopardy, breaks up the move with a springboard dropkick. He starts taking it to Smallz with quick kicks to the legs and ribs... NICE jumping spinning back kick to the face there, and Smallz is down. Gardell’s forcing JA out of there, but it looks like Cruise is starting to stir... HEY!!

MN: Nice presence of mind there as Dodd comes in and attacks Cruise with a shining wizard as he tries to get up. Dodd claps his hands and he and Smallz setting Cameron up. Electric Chair drop position as Cruise is on Smallz’s shoulders. Dodd with a springboard up top.

DT: Looking for... we won’t be able to tell as Cruise just NAILED Smallz in the eye and then DRILLED Dodd with a powerbomb from the big mans shoulders. Gardell is making Smallz get out of the ring, with Cruise closest to his corner, still feeling the effects of that move a few minutes ago, but Dodd came down hard on the shoulders and neck there, so this race for the tag could decide the eventual outcome of the match.

DM: Dodd is the first one to get to somewhat of a vertical base, as he uses the ropes to try and pull himself over to Boogie. Cruise is barely crawling over to JA, and it looks like he won’t make it as in comes the stoned one to dish out some more punishment, dropping the elbow onto the back of Cruise there.

DT: Pulling Cruise back now, he slaps on an STF to try and keep him grounded, working over the legs here as he also pulls on the back. Boogie really looks like he’s still not happy over the actions of Cruise earlier, coming out dressed like that, as he hasn’t let him get a chance to tag out for a while.

MN: Cruise is trying to claw his way over the stormy seas of the canvas to the safe haven of the coastal ropes, argh.

DT: OK... urge to hurt him...rising?

MN: Cruise?

DT+DM: YOU!!

MN: Meep.

DT: Getting back to the match, and Cruise is inching himself over to the ropes, trying desperately to break this hold. Almost...

DM: And Dodd gets involved, distracting the ref, allowing Smallz to keep the hold on. Nice continuity and team work here from Smallz and Dodd, cutting the ring in half and preventing Cruise from making the tag. Dodd gets past Gardell and he and Smallz pick Cruise up. Boogie whips Cruise off the ropes... tilt-a-whirl back breaker there, followed up by a leg drop from “Your Hero”. They drag Cruise like a ship-wreck over to the corner, and Smallz tags out, leaving the smaller member of the team in there to take out Cruise with a right hand. Cruise fires back weakly with a right of his own, as Dodd just smirks there. He sets him up, whipping him into the corner, following him in... SHOULDER TO THE GUT there from Cruise.

DT: I don’t think that was intentional, Dean.

DM: It was effective though, as Cruise fell in time from the corner to wind Dodd, who’d started looking for a splash. Dodd is now trying to pick Cruise up.

DT: And Cruise has none of that, as he ducks behind and PLANTS Dodd with a neckbreaker. Cruise is looking hurt here, and now might be his last opportunity to tag out. Gardell checks both men and starts the count... one

Two...

Three...

Four...

MN: Dave can count, folks. Isn’t he smart? OUCH!!!

DT: Five... six... seven... Cruise is inching himself towards JA, as Gardell stops the count at eight for Dodd. Dodd with a hard blow to the back of Cruise. Locking him now for a German suplex... CRUISE LANDS ON HIS FEET!!!

DM: Cruise ducks under a spinning clothesline from Dodd, and makes the tag!!!

DT: JA in now with a front moonsault OVER the top rope, taking Dodd down. JA now with an enziguri taking Dodd down, but here comes Boogie Smallz... JA takes him down to the outside with a flying headscissors. JA on fire here as he hits a snap suplex with force there. Climbing the ropes... four-fifty splash!!! The cover,

TWO

Kickout there by Dodd. JA looking to end it here, but Smallz is in again, with a thunderous flying forearm taking the smallest man in the match down.

DM: Cruise now trying to get back in, as Gardell makes Smallz get back to the apron... SHIP WRECK ON DODD!!!

DT: The ref was too busy reprimanding Smallz that he never saw that.

MN: BULL!! This is a screw job!!! DODD’S A HERO!!! HE DESERVES BETTER THAN THIS!!!

DT: Maybe so, but Smallz is still arguing with Gardell. JA back up, seeing Dodd down... running over to Smallz... springboard... NICE!!! A beautifully executed Asai Moonsault off the top rope there from JA as he ALSO connects with a somersault kick to knock Smallz off the apron to the outside. Gardell making the count...

TWO...

NO! Kickout by Dodd! I thought that was three!

DM: So did JA! He's insisting to the official that that was a three count!

DT: Referee Andrew Gardell insists Dodd got the shoulder up at the count of three. JA finally gives in and turns... but Dodd's crawled back to his corner and tagged in Boogie Smallz!

MN: TOKE DAT STUFF, BRO!!!

DT: Smallz in like a house afire! Right hand to Dodd! And again! And again! Whips him off into the ropes - Clothesline takes down the Intercontinental Champion!

DM: I think Smallz could do it here, Dave.

DT: Now Smallz setting up JA... He's looking for a Power Bong here! Bringing JA up - JA TURNS IT INTO A VICTORY ROLL!!! ONE - TWO - THREE!!! JA HAS DONE IT!!!

MN: WHAAAAT?!?!

DM: Whoa! Out of NOWHERE!

[SFX: *DING* - Bell rings.]

TIFFANY MARAIS: Th’ winners of this match by pinfall - Cameron Cruise and JAY! AY!



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DT: A valiant effort by Boogie Smallz and Sebastian Dodd, but in the end it's JA and Cruise with the narrow win -

[Cue up: "Everyday People" - Pearl Jam. The crowd reacts with some confusion as General Manager Paul Freeman walks out onto the ramp, mic in hand.]

DT: - Hold on, it looks like our second in command is out here for some reason!

MN: What's he up to?

FREEMAN: Boogie... I'll tell this you you straight. You're a hell of a competitor. If that were all there were to it I wouldn't be out here saying what I'm about to say. But... I'm sorry. We got the results in from the drug test. The good news is... you didn't fail a single drug test...

[CROWD: *POP!*]

FREEMAN: ...You failed EVERY drug test. Miserably.

[CROWD: *BOOOOO!*]

FREEMAN: I'm sorry, Mr. Smallz, but I'm a slave to company policy. If I make an exception for you, I have to make one for everybody, and I'm not prepared to do that.

...You're fired.

[The crowd's reaction is decidedly mixed. Cut to the ring, where an indignant Smallz yells profanities up at Freeman. Back to the ramp, Freeman holds up his hands in an 'I had no choice' fashion before vanishing backstage.]

DT: Wow! What a bombshell from GM Paul Freeman, as Boogie Smallz is out the door for failing drug tests!

DM: Are you really surprised, Dave?

DT: ...Come to think of it, no.

[Cut to the ring, where Smallz has grabbed the mic from Tiffany.]

SMALLZ: Yo, Freeman! You think y'all problems is just gonna go away by givin' a brotha' the pink slip, punk? You ain't got ish on me, trick! Enjoy it while it lasts, mofo, 'cause y'all ain't seen da last of Boogeezey in da heezy fo' sheezy. BELEE' DAT!!!

[Cue up: "Black Superman" - Above The Law. The crowd roars in mixed elation and anger as Smallz stumps to the back.]

[Cut to a commercial for Tailpipe Stuffers' used autos.]

 

[DBrunkGXW]

Re: Aggression 14: Tulsa, OK - 11/20/04

Russian Roulette Tournament Quarterfinals
Troy Douglas vs. Karl "The Dragon" Brown

TIFFANY MARAIS: The following contest is a Russian Roulette quarterfinal match!

[CUEUP: “Kashmir” by Led Zeppelin. Troy Douglas comes out as the fans start cheering. Troy struts down the ramp]

TIFFANY MARAIS: Introducing first, from Greensboro, North Carolina - Troy! DOUGlas!

[CUEUP: "Rainmaker". As Karl Brown steps out on the ramp. He walks to the wheel as the fans start to go nuts.]

TIFFANY MARAIS: And his opponent, from Nottingham, England - Karl! The Dragon! BROWN!

[CUTTO: Both men standing by the wheel.]

DT: Folks, this match is bound to be an interesting one - a rematch from a few months ago, when Douglas beat Brown to become the number one contender.

[Scowling a little, Brown grabs the wheel and spins it hard. It whirls for a moment before slowing, settling on...]

SUBMISSION MATCH

DM: Hah! Three in a row!

MN: That's what happens when you leave it to the wheel!

[A small smile touches Douglas' face as he gives the wheel a jerk. He watches as the wheel rotates for a long moment. It slows and slows... and it looks like it's going to land on the big red X... but with its last bit of momentum it hits the next slot over.]

ELECTRIFIED ROPES

MN: Oh snap.

DM: Oh snap is right.

DT: I concur.

[As both men stride down to the ring, an attendant at ringside plugs a generator into one of the ringposts. The ropes begin to hum with electrical currents.]

DT: And this match is under way! Right off the bat Douglas comes charging at Brown and misses with a clothesline, Karl ducks under it...

MN: Hey, relax there, buddy. Don't blow out an O-ring.

DT: ... Brown ducks under and slams a hard elbow right into the back of Douglas’s neck!

DM: Right where the spinal cord meets the brain stem! Oof!

DT: And Douglas is obviously feeling the effects of that elbow as Brown takes full advantage grabbing Douglas’s head from behind and slamming his face into the turnbuckle.

MN: But once isn’t good enough for Brown, again ... and again and finally Douglas collapses to the mat.

DT: Brown drops an elbow right to the back of Douglas ’s left shoulder blade then rolls him over ...

MN: It looks like Brown is looking for a leg lock...

DT: NO! Douglas at the last second manages somehow to push Brown away with his legs and Douglas bounces right up to his feet.

DM: Douglas has gotta get some kind of offensive going here. Brown's got his number right now.

DT: And here he comes with a short kick to the side of Brown’s knee. Brown grabs that knee in pain and Douglas is quick to hit the same kind of kick on his other knee.

MN: Keep kicking! He can break Karl’s knee at this pace!

DT: Brown exposes himself as he reaches down to hold those knee’s and a short but powerful upper cut finds his midsection. Not laying off the attack for a minute, Douglas takes hold of Brown’s head and ... there’s a spinning neckbreaker!

DM: Perfect execution right there by Troy, she’s right back in this one. DT: An early cover now by Douglas ...

1 ...2 ...KICKOUT!

DM: That’s too early to try and end it. What she really just did was give Brown a few seconds to recover, mistakes like those will cost you.

MN: Mistakes cost everybody!

DT: And cost him it does as Brown is right back on his feet and grabs hold of Troy’s wrist. He throws him into the ropes and ... swings ...

MN: But misses with a clothesline from hell. He telegrammed it!

DM: Graphed, GRAPHED!

DT: ... Brown hits the ropes by mistake! (ZAP!) And what a mistake that was! You heard the buzz from here as Karl is on his stomach.

MN: OOOOOOOG!

DT: I don’t think we need any proof, but the look on Brown’s face tells us that didn’t tickle.

DM: And Douglas with the blitz style attack takes quick advantage picking Karl up and hitting a bulldog on him from behind.

DT: Douglas has been awfully impressive tonight. Karl trying to work up to his feet.

MN: Troy is fighting a smart fight.

DT: There he goes, charging ... and with all his momentum delivers a crushing blow to the side of Brown’s rib cage with his foot.

DM: That’s the type of shot that could break some ribs, I know Douglas has enough power to do that kind of thing to Brown.

MN: But it was a well placed kick.

DT: Douglas now reaching down and taking a handful of Brown’s hair, but as he tries to pull him to his feet Brown turns the tides with a fireman’s carry.

MN: One of the purest moves in the sport.

DT: Brown moves in for the quick cover ...

1 ...KICKOUT!

DM: He tried to catch him by surprise there, but he was ready for it.

DT: Nonetheless it was worth the try. Both competitors back on their feet now and Douglas comes out swinging, but Brown blocks his right ... and then his left ...

MN: ... Douglas is left defenseless ...

DT: ... Brown bends at the knee’s and shoots up, connecting with the top of his head right underneath Troy’s chin.

MN: And his head snapped back viciously on that one!

DT: Brown now head right for his reeling opponent, using his strength advantage to pick his up and put her over his shoulder.

MN: Dangerous move ...

DT: ... indeed as Douglas is somehow able to squirm away and drop behind Brown, Brown turns around right away and ducks under a big punch and counters it with a huge German suplex!

DM: Brilliant counter right there. He really dodged a bullet after Mandy got away from him.

DT: Brown now in control of this one and he’s looking to get some revenge as he pulls Douglas up off the mat.

MN: The tides look to be turning.

DT: Brown grabs Douglas ’s wrist again and whips him into the turnbuckle from the center of the ring, but Douglas manages to springboard back at him ...

DM: ... and Brown saw it out of the corner of his eye and snatches Douglas right out of the air ...

DT: ... OOO! He drops him right over his knee and she hits the mat with a thump.

MN: Now’s the time to go for the cover, right now ... that’s right Brown... this one’s over.

1 ...2 ...KICKOUT!

MN: WHAT THE?!?!?

DT: A surprising kickout by Douglas and Brown can’t believe it.

MN: He better stop trying to convince the ref that was a three count and pay attention to Troy, because he’s slowly climbing back to her feet.

DT: Again, right out of the corner of his eye he see’s Troy on his hands and knee’s and there’s a huge boot to ...

MN: NOT SO FAST!

DT: ... Troy caught Brown ’s foot and twists him around. BAM! HE’S GOT HIM IN AN ANKLE LOCK!

MN: This is one of the most painful holds ...

DT: And Brown is reaching for the ropes.....

MN: NO! Don’t touch the ropes!

DT: Karl grabs the ropes - And the current flows through BOTH men, shocking both Brown and Troy!

DM: Now that is sacrificing your body to win.

MN: Electric current...

DM: Oh my God you said something intelligent....

DT: Douglas releasing the hold as Karl blows on his hand from the shock.

DT: Brown getting up Troy is on his feet already. A kick to the side by Troy, but this time it’s Brown catching the foot, but Troy leaps and swings his other foot over, connecting with the side of Brown ’s head.

MN: WHAT A MOVE!

DT: Brown is a little dazed and stumbles back, Troy hits a kick to his gut ... Troy going to Flapjack Karl into those ropes...!

DM: NO! Karl with that DDT to Troy. Karl picking Troy up...NO! Small package...

1...2...Kick out!

DT: You can see Troy is agitated. Troy kicking Karl, Brown is close the ropes.....TROY DOUGLAS IS USING HIS BOOTS AND FORCING KARL AGAINST THE ROPES!

MN: Karl Brown is shaking like crazy!

[ZAP!!!! CRACK!!!! BOOM!!! Sparks fly out of the generator as the arena lights turn off.]

DM: THE POWER JUST WENT OUT IN THE ARENA!

[Arena lights flicker back on as the emergency arena power supply turns on]

DT: And the lights are back on as Karl’s hair is sticking straight up. And Brown isn’t moving!

MN: What’s Troy doing?! Douglas is grabbing the rope! But he isn’t getting shocked.

DM: Troy power surged the generator. And Troy pulling Karl to the middle of the ring. Karl is coughing...TROY LOCKIGN IN A SHARPSHOOTER!

DT: Brown with nowhere to go!

MN: AND KARL BROWN IS TAPPING OUT!

[SFX: *DING* - Bell rings.]

TIFFANY MARAIS: The winner of the match - Troy! DOUGlas!

DT: That was just nuts, gentlemen. I don't think I've ever seen a match that out there in EPW to date.

DM: I think I agree. That match was kinda short, but damn was it brutal. When you throw two guys into a ring with electrified ropes, they'll get worn down pretty damn quick.

MN: I think Brown got roasted... oog.

DT: Folks, we have to take a break, but when we come back, it's Cross and Clapper in the main event of the evening! Don't touch that dial!

DM: Or I'll eat ya!

[Cut to a commercial for Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.]

 

[DBrunkGXW]

Re: Aggression 14: Tulsa, OK - 11/20/04

[“Hypocritical” by Methods of Mayhem roars over the PA System, as the words John Doe flicker on the titan tron. The crowd pops as John steps out on the entrance ramp. John slides in the ring as he gives a taunt to the crowd making them pop up even more.]
MN: Awwww, how GREAT. Haven't see seen enough of John Dwarf tonight?

DT: Be quiet, Neely. This is the night a lot of people have been waiting for, folks. John Doe has made a name for himself as a mainstay in EPW' and tonight he's going to tell us his real name.

DM: He oughta thank Megatron for all the help. Troy Douglas has done wonders for Doe.

[Doe grabs hold of a microphone he looks at the crowd as he starts to speak]

Doe: One month ago, I started on a quest to find out my name. I faced off with Christian Sands, and lost, faced off with JA and lost, and then faced off with Adam Benjamin (crowd cheers) and won (crowd cheers louder). In the quest to find my name I hit a bump in my road....the path was not complete, there are patches that have to be fixed, and one of them is going to be settled tonight. I promised Troy Douglas, my mentor a gift for every hour he spent training me. So, Troy if you will please come out to the ring.

[CUEUP: “Kashmir” By Led Zeppelin as the crowd starts to cheer louder. Troy Douglas steps out on the ramp way as he walks down the ring a smile on his face as John is handed a manila folder from Tiffany Marais. Troy slides into the ring as he gives John a little hug]

Doe: Now, Troy, before I tell you and everyone my real name. I wanted to give you a gift. Troy you were like a father to me in the ring, and when we were training. And I want you to know, no matter what happens, I will always be there for me. But father, please forgive me...for I have sinned.

MN: What? I don’t get it?

DT: Neither do I.

DM: I do. It’s a way for John to apologize for the hard times he gave Troy.

MN: Oh.

Doe: Troy, as it says in the good book, thou shall respect his father. But Troy, the end of the road was near, and I have to fix some patches in my path.

[John kisses Troy on the cheek.]

Douglas: Why John. I didn't know you cared-

[Apparently Doe doesn't care after all - as he slugs him in the mouth to a gasp of shock from the crowd, knocking his mentor down! John slides out the ring, grabbing a chair. He slides back in, lifting the weapon and slamming it down onto Douglas over and over, each resounding crack drawing another wave of boos from the shocked and enraged Oklahoma fans. John stops dropping the chair.]

Doe: That Troy was the kiss of death.

DT: MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!?! WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO JOHN DOE?!?!

MN: What is WITH this psycho?!

DM: I knew it! It was a trick!

Doe: You were like a father to me Troy, you were never there for me, you weren’t there in my match with Benjamin, you weren’t there in my match with Karl Brown, you never let me stand ringside to see my teacher wrestle. This is your end of the road Troy. You want to know my real name?!

Doe: It’s JOHN DOE. I just came out of Dan Ryan’s office, yeah the man who screwed you out of a title shot. And this is what I came out with. This contract says it all. Let me read it to you Troy.

“The following is a unbreakable contract that has been issued according to the owner of Empire Dan Ryan. Under my authority I have granted John Doe, a match at the next Pay Per View. This match will be with Troy Douglas. A teacher versus student match. The match type was decided under John Doe. The choice of match John has chosen is an Inferno Match. Which in order to win a wrestler must set his opponent one fire. The ring will have fire surrounding it as John has requested.”

Signed Dan Ryan.

DOE: So there you have it Troy our match the Pay Per View. Seems, as your end of the road as come. See you then my old friend.

(Doe walks out of the ring dropping the contract on Troy’s chest)

DT: Oh my dear sweet lord.

MN: This is nuts! Dan Ryan can’t do that! I mean it’s an Inferno match, we never had one of those!

DM: Are you seriously gonna get up in Dan Ryan's face and tell him what he can and cannot do?

DT: Someone is going to get killed -- John Doe has totally gone overboard on this!

DM: He's insane. Are you THAT surprised.

DT: I thought Douglas had helped him through that!

MN: Apparently noooooot!

DT: Oi... Let's just move on.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


MAIN EVENT
Russian Roulette Tournament Quarterfinals
Cross vs. Clapper

TIFFANY MARAIS: The following contest is a first round match in the Russian Roulette Tournament!!

[CUE UP: “Til’ I Collapse” by Eminem. Bathed in a brilliant white spotlight, Cross stands on the stage, the crowd half cheering, half booing, as he stands steely eyed, his focus on the ring. He keeps his eyes on the ring as he makes his way over to the wheel]

TIFFANY MARAIS: From Los Angeles, California, and weighing in at two hundred and eighty five pounds, CROSS!!

DT: Cross has been on a tear of late, and he looks to carry it on here in the Russian Roulette Tournament. Who knows what the draw’s going to come out like?

DM: Quite right, Dave. Cross is a multi-time champion with titles across many feds, but even for him it’s going to be tough not knowing the stipulation until the wheel stops turning. And against Clapper it’s going to be even harder.

[CUE UP: “South of Heaven” by Slayer. The lights cut out, being replaced by a faint red glow, as out through smoke steps Clapper, clad in his typical black gear and smoking a cigarette. A smirk on his face, he saunters to wheel, tossing his cigarette towards Cross, who just stands stoically]

TIFFANY MARAIS: And his opponent, weighing in at two hundred and fifty eight pounds, he hails from Chicago, Illinois... CLAPPER!!

DT: The ref checking over both men before the match, as he leads them over to the wheel outside the ring to see what type of match this is going to be. Looks like Clapper gets to spin first.

MN: Round and round and round it goes, where it stops, not even I know.

DM: And Clapper looks happy with it, as it comes to rest on Chain Match. We’ve had one chain match before tonight, when Brown beat X, and these two can be even more sadistic than Brown was that night, so the chain is going to cause a very nice twist. Cross starts his spin, and he used a lot of force, it’s going to take a while to slow down.

DT: Clapper and Cross are two names that everyone has to go far in EPW and in this tournament, so whoever wins tonight will definitely have earned it. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of these two made it to face Beast at the PPV.

MN: Aw man, sweet. First Blood spun by Cross and with a chain too... this is gonna be good.

DT: The ref now linking the two men together with the chain and we’re just about ready to go in this first round tournament.

DM: And they’re not even waiting for the bell, as Clapper takes Cross down with a hard right hand. Cross back up quickly, and he’s rocked by another right from Clapper. Cross retaliating with a right hand of his own, and the ref signals for the bell to start things off properly.

DT: Cross blocking the right from Clapper there, catching him with a knee to the gut. Cross now with the chain, he’s wrapping it around Clapper’s neck!! Lifting him up over his back, he’s actually trying to carry Clapper to the ring!!

DM: I don’t think Clapper expected this, as he tries to kick Cross in the back to release the choke. Remember, the only way to win this match is to make your opponent bleed.

DT: Clapper manages to land an elbow to the kidney there and free himself, blasting Cross right between the eyes with a straight right. Cross wheeling back, as Clapper whips him into the security railing. I knew this would be a bit of a brawl but I didn’t expect it to turn that way this quickly.

MN: Cross went hard into the railing there, as Clapper wraps the chain around his own fist, looking to bust him open. A swing

DT: And a miss as Clapper ducks under, picking Clapper up and PLANTING him with a spinebuster on that thin layer of padding there. Cross now with the advantage, dropping a fist onto Clapper’s forehead. The Los Angeles native now picking Clapper up by the head, and drilling him with a DDT on the outside!

DM: The best place to try and make someone bleed unless you’ve got barbed wire ropes in wrestling is the head, where the skin’s thinnest. Cross knows that, as long as he’s been in the business, so expect a lot of headshots to try and bust Clapper open. Not that he’ll go down easily, he’ll be aware of that too.

DT: Cross looks to be trying to get this match into the ring, as he rolls Clapper under the bottom rope. Cross rolls in after him, but Clapper uses the chain to whip Cross right across the chest before he can get up.

DM: Referee Pat Jones trying to keep away from the chain whilst looking to see if any blood has appeared on Cross, but Cross sweeps the legs out from under Clapper with a nice feat of quasi-breakdancing there, spinning himself round.

MN: Dawg!

DT: Cross now whipping Clapper off the ropes, connecting with a had clothesline there.

DM: If I were Cross I’d try to take Clapper out quickly; the longer this match goes on the better, I’d have to say, it is for Clapper, who’s more used to non-wrestling brawls than Cross is. But Cross still with the advantage, as he wraps the chain round Clappers neck again, hoisting him up...and a high angled back suplex from the six foot nine self-professed conscious of professional wrestling.

DT: It looks like Clapper doesn’t know what to do, almost as if he didn’t expect Cross to be able to keep up with him like this. Clapper trying to get to his feet, but Cross slugs him down with a clubbing blow to the back of the neck. Lifting him up, he sends him into the corner with a snake eyes.

MN: Gambling in the ring? How un-Christian from Cross.

DT: Regardless of Mike’s comments, Cross is really taking it to Clapper here, trying to cut him open on the ropes, raking his eyes across the top strand as Pat Jones tries to watch for any sign, even a slight trickle, of blood. He’s half way along the ropes... OW... an elbow to the gut there from Clapper, followed by a forearm uppercut to snap the larger man down to the mat.

DM: Smart move here from Clapper, who’s always thinking how to hurt his opponent in there, taking it now to the knees of Cross with those hard stomps. Lifting him up now, he whips him to the ropes. Cross ducks the clothesline on the rebound, but can’t avoid the charge there as Clapper takes him out over the tope rope. Clapper now trying to choke out the big man, using the chain to hang him.

MN: Better than being crucified. I’m sure the Lord could tell you that.

DT: Jesus?

MN: Yeah. You know, John Doe’s kid.

DM: Clapper really pulling back on the chain, and Cross is having trouble. The heavier you are the more weight you have to pull down on you, and when you’ve got a chain or rope around your neck it actually helps your opponent. Weight can be a HUGE disadvantage at times.

DT: True there, as Cross tries to relieve some pressure by leaning back onto the ring apron, trying to rest his weight somewhere. Looks like he’s... YES, Cross taking a loop of that chain

MN: A honey nut loop?

DT: NO!! Cross taking a loop of the chain and whipping it straight into the leg of Clapper, who’s moved forward to try and push Cross off the apron. Clapper showing some pain as he lets go of the chain, allowing Cross a moment to breath. This has been a quick paced match, and I’m sure neither man will throw in the towel just yet.

DM: Cross now getting back into the ring over the tope rope, but Clapper meets him with a back elbow. Clapper now with a headlock on Cross, a rare wrestling hold in this mans arsenal, as he takes down Cross and starts trying to wear him down on the mat, trying to cut the blood supply off to the brain and in the longer run give himself more time unopposed to make him bleed.

DT: Cross isn’t letting this match go that easily though, as he rolls through and puts Clapper on his back. Cross now breaking the hold with a nice hard shot to the gut, and now back on his feet he stomps away on the Chicago-based hit-man. He lifts him up now, slamming him hard on the canvas. Lifting him up... looking for... NO!! Clapper slips out of there before Cross could connect with what looked like it was going to be Golgotha, and Clapper now planting Cross with a DDT.

DM: Neither man is really able to get the advantage, and it looks like Clapper’s getting frustrated. He’s actually removing one of the corner pads, which could be a huge disadvantage if Cross manages to drop him on it first.

DT: Cross is slowly getting up, those hard shots earlier from Clapper finally catching up with him. Clapper with another hard shot to the face, as he whips Cross into that exposed turnbuckle. Cross almost bouncing out of the corner there as Clapper comes in with a running knee to the face, dropping the big man back down to the mat. Clapper with two hard stomps there, but Cross manages to roll out of the ring under the bottom rope. Gathering himself out there, he’s using the length of the chain to keep away from Clapper a little... no, he pulls on it to wrench the arm of Clapper there. He pulls Clapper to the outside, whipping him into those hard steel steps... this is a brutal beating, as none of these punches or blows has been anything less than full strength.

DM: Neither man wants to lose with so much on the line; Priest, Brown and Golem are all out already, and neither of these two names wants to join them.

DT: Clapper now holding his back, as Cross lifts him up over his shoulder... GOLGOTHA!!! GOLGOTHA ON THE FLOOR!!

MN: Looks like the Sign of the Cross has it in the bag. At least he would if this were a pinfall match rather than first blood.

DT: Quite right, Mike. Golgotha, that BRUTAL neckbreaker, might have been enough in a normal match to put Clapper away, but here I think he was using it to buy himself some time. Cross is breathing hard, as is Clapper, but neither man has been able to make the other man bleed.

DM: Cross now using the chain as a weapon again, practically flogging the smaller man with it. Those aren’t whelts being raised, those are massive bruises which are going to smart for a while to come.

MN: I take it he isn’t one of the eleven saintly shrouded men silhouetted against the sky, huh?

DT: Iron Maiden songs aside, Mike

MN: You know of Iron Maiden? Wow. Wonders will never cease.

DT: Like I was saying, Cross is trying whatever he can to take Clapper out now.

DM: And Clapper’s having a tougher time than I think he’d have expected, his back taking a pounding and I’m surprised he hasn’t started bleeding there yet. Pat Jones is checking to make sure but he ain’t bleeding.

DT: Cross throws the loop of chain away, picking Clapper up... HUGE push here from Clapper taking both men out into the crowd!!!!

DM: This is nasty; we could be facing a lawsuit if that chain hurts anyone except the wrestlers out there; what on EARTH was Clapper thinking?

DT: I don’t know, but these two are trading blows in the crowd now, the fans being held back as best as security can do. Pat Jones is following them but he’s having a hard time keeping up with them. They’re already a fair ways back as Cross throws Clapper headfirst into some chairs!

DM: I PRAY that they don’t hurt anyone... Ryan would be PISSED, and you don’t want him mad at you.

MN: Clapper’s doing something... he’s reached inside his tights.

DT: Cross now trying to press the advantage, picking Clapper up over his shoulder, and he’s charging into the wall with him!! Clapper’s fighting him.... No, he gets DRILLED into the wall. Pat Jones coming over and... WAIT A MINUTE!! CROSS IS BLEEDING!!

DM: What on EARTH?

DT: Senior referee Pat Jones is calling for the bell, but I have NO idea how that could’ve happened; Cross was in complete control and somehow started bleeding profusely from the forehead.

[sfx: *DING* - Bell rings.]

DT: Pat Jones going over to tell Tiffany his decision now... let’s get a verdict, as Clapper now is slowly getting to his feet.

MN: Hey, he’s...

TIFFANY MARAIS: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner due to First Blood... CLAPPER!!!!

DT: I can’t believe this!

MN: Clapper just reached into his tights again, and I think I saw something in his hand!!

DT: What?!?!

DM: Can we get a replay?

[CUT TO: a split screen replay, close-up of the action. As Cross runs Clapper into the wall, we get a quick glimpse of reflected light near Cross’ forehead]

MN: THAT’S IT!! He used a knife!!

DT: I don’t know what to make of this, but we’re out of time folks. For Mike Neely and Dean Matthews, I’m Dave Thomas, and I hope we can clear up this controversy next time!! Goodnight!

[Fade to credits, then to black.]


FIN