<UWF> Meltdown 7-20-05

[Cygnia]

[Fade up from black. The camera cuts to a scene taped in one of the MCI
Center locker rooms just after the Saturday Night Rampage event that
took place there. Here we find an absolutely livid Alex Extreme,
staring
daggers into the former UWF World Tag Team champions, the Sons of
Cacophony. Erik and Chad Grimsson both look a bit upset and uneasy, as
they try to get their friend to calm down.]

Chad: Alex, relax, man. It's not that big a deal.

AE: Not a big deal? You lost the tag team titles!

[Erik now looks at Alex, not really sure of what to say. But, he goes
ahead and gives it a try, anyway.]

Erik: Dude, don't you think you're kind of being...you know.

AE: What? What exactly do you think I'm being?

Erik: Well...a cry baby...maybe?

[Alex looks around the room trying to find something he can throw but
doesn't find anything. He takes a couple deep "calming" breaths and
looks over at Erik and Chad...]

AE: You chased the Drakes for months to get those and on a silly n'
stupid whim, you decide to defend them on Rampage against of all
people-
the Hands of Death! And worst of all, you did it even when I told you
not
to! So yes, it is a big deal and if I'm being a crybaby its because you
guys need to get your heads out of your asses! This isn't just the
usual
crap ass match, its the tag titles--the pinnacle of why we all do this
stuff!

So you'll forgive me if I can't help but notice that your tag team
title
match at Gold Rush, which you were guaranteed--is now totally out of
your
hands! But hey, that's not important 'cause after all, we're Erik and
Chad so the world will just stop on a dime and fufill your whims and
fantasies 'cause your s*bleep*t don't stink right? Well, it stinks and
they could care less. So quit acting like five year old dumbf*bleep*k
rednecks and use your goddamned brains!

[Chad now speaks up, a bit agitated at Extreme's comments towards
Erik.]

Chad: Come on, man! That was completely unnecessary!

Alex: You know what was unecessary? The title match you gave Hands of
Death three weeks before Gold Rush. That was beyond unnecessary it was
just plain stupid.

[Undeterred, Erik now speaks up once again.]

Erik: Look, man, don't worry about this. We've totally got this thing.
Just wait and see.

AE: Okay dumbass, what happens if they don't give you a rematch at Gold
Rush? What if they give it to say...the Hollys? What happens then
genius
boy?!?

Erik: Okay, dude. You lost me.

Chad: Look, Alex, we'll figure it out, okay. [MEEP] happens. You just
have to adapt and roll with it, you know?

[Alex groans, sighs, and looks as though he's about to bang his head
into
the wall a few thousand times.]

Erik: Uh...Alex?

AE: I'm going to leave, drink myself into oblivion now, and make Jack
Daniels my personal friend.

Erik: Can we come?

AE: NOOOO!

[Extreme storms off as the tape ends.

And on that note... into the opening sequence as "Cells" comes in over
the interspersed cuts of UWF action until we dissolve into the
graphics:]

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July 20th, 2005 - Kohl Center - Madison, WI

[Cut through to a capacity crowd on hand inside the Kohl Center to a
chorus of pops, which are nearly drowned out by the sounds of exploding
pyrotechnics over the ringside area. The ringposts begin to shoot
flames
up into the air a good five feet, and the standard cuts back and forth
around the building lead to the shot of a small black ramp leading up
to
a stage no more than a couple of feet off the ground, and the entrance
portal is made up of steel beams and video monitors as usual. About ten
feet above the entrance is a large UWF logo which serves as the
announcer
position, up in the Crow's Nest position. Amanda Wells and Greg Howard
are seated up there, with Greg wearing a pair of bluejeans and a black
UWF golf shirt and Amanda dressed in cutoff jeans and a blue baby tee.]

GH: Good evening fans, welcome to another edition of UWF Meltdown!
Everyone here is still reeling after the last Saturday Night Rampage
which saw the return of Daniel Kidd, a move that stunned absolutely
everybody.

AW: You'd think that the suits would realize by now if you try to back
Scott Daniels into a corner, he's gonna come out swinging. And man,
that
was a home run he nailed at SNR. Bring in a former champion and help to
put the number one contender on the shelf with an injury!

GH: Now don't go spreading any more rumors, Amanda. Alex Martinez, as
far as we know, is banged up from the attack on his knee at the end of
the show but is still preparing to face Scott at Gold Rush. He's also
involved in the main event this weekend, him and Brett Greene going
against Dan Kidd and "Dead End" Derek Martin.

AW: He might be wrestling, but he's gonna do it on one leg. And you
know
what they say about a one-legged man.

GH: You'd still date him? Well let's hear from his tag team partner
this
weekend, the inimitable Brett Greene.

[Open to a locker room backstage. Specifically, Brett Greene's locker
room, where the veteran hand sits on a bench, his feet draped casually
over a steel folding chair, watching something on a small television
set
about 10 feet from his face. Brett has a large goofy grin on his face,
and is obviously enjoying whatever it is he's watching. The volume on
the
tv is turned up fairly high, so we can hear the sound from the show.]

TV: "You imbecile! Why I oughta..."

[Boink!]

"Oh, a wise guy, eh?"

[At this, Brett laughs loudly, slapping his knee with the one hand not
holding onto the remote. Suddenly, however, there is a knock at the
door.
The next voice we hear is neither, Moe, Larry, nor Curly, but is
instead
the lovely Alicia Powers.]

AP: Hello Brett? Are you in there? Tim told me you wanted to talk to
me?

BG: Uh... come on in, Alicia!

[As the door starts to open, Brett rapidly mashes the button on the
remote in his hand, trying to change the channel. He gets it done
before
we see Alicia peer into the room, and a very different voice speaks
from
the other side of the airwaves.]

TV: "And in foreign markets today, continuing inflation in Germany
caused
a drop in the major European indices, while in Japan...

[The voice suddenly cuts off, as Brett has apparently hit the mute
button. Alicia allows herself a slight smirk, and gives Brett a
friendly
jibe.]

AP: Financial news, eh? Don't you ever stop being serious? You know,
watch something fun?

BG: Eh, you know me. All business. Sit down for a second, Alicia... I
actually wanted to talk to Alex, but I guess that production assistant
I
talked to got confused. It's alright, you can pass the message on to
him.

[Alicia accepts the invitation to sit, and picks a spot on the bench a
few feet down from where Brett is sitting. She brushes a few strands of
hair from the front of her glasses, and addresses the Louisiana
superstar.]

AP: he's actually pretty busy right now, getting ready for his match
tonight. He has really let the Illuminati get to him, and after what
Kinsey did on Rampage, he just has't been the same.

[Brett slaps his head, and a look of remembrance passes over his face.]

BG: Oh, that's right, I forgot he has a match to get ready for. Oh,
silly
me. Well, you can still pass on the message, right?

AP: Sure. What's up, Brett?

BG: Well, there's this promotional thing Friday afternoon, for the new
Gold Rush video game. It was supposed to be me an' Scott heading down
to
the press conference, but he had to pull out at the last minute. So I
figured - who represents more Gold Rush history than Alex freakin'
Kidd?

[Brett smiles and shrugs his shoulders, as if to admit that Alex has
had
even more illustrious moments in UWF history than he himself. Alicia
blushes a bit at the compliment for her husband. Then, however, her
expression changes slightly and her face betrays some concern.]

AP: Well Brett, that's very kind of you to think of Alex. But you know
he
doesn't get along with you that well... He's a little stubborn to bw
the
type to forgive and forget. You did try to trash our wedding
afterall...

[Alicia flashes her warm smile and nudges Brett in the arm, an
obviously
in hindsight sort of joke of UWF's yesteryear.]

BG: Ancient history. I'm a changed man now, and Alex is exactly the
kind
of upright character I should be spending time with. He'll be a nice
counterpoint to getting my noggin' knocked around by Derek Martin. And
I'm sure he wouldn't mind spending time with someone a little more
friendly than that a-hole Kinsey. Besides, if it's not him, I'll have
to
ask Augustine. And that's a desperation move. Look, I'm taking my
daughter with me too... she's got a day off school... and I can't have
her around a potty mouth like that. Besides, Augustine never chips in
for
gas.

[Alicia allows herself a small chuckle at the thought of Michael
Augustine refusing to fork over a sawbuck to help defray Brett's gas
consumption, because it would seem to be the least of his social
shortcomings to bring up.]

AP: Okay, I can run it by Alex later and see if he wants to go. Hey, if
Susan's going to be there, maybe I'll tag along too! I remember when
Susan and Samantha Daniels would run around the locker room, playing
hopskotch in the midst of all the wrestlers. Oh, they ran that locker
room.

[The two share another "back in the day" smile.]

BG: I'm sure Susan would be glad to have you there, she really looks up
to you, I have to say. Well, you and some chick named Rachel Bilson. No
idea who that is.

AP: Ask DeWolfe. He knows all the girls on the teen dramas.

BG: [in a jovial tone] Heh, I'll make sure to do that. Anyway, give me
a
call if Alex can come along, I'll swing by to pick him up. And tell him
to bring gas money.

[With that, Alicia stands up, taking a moment to flatten out a small
crease in her light brown slacks. She turns to Brett briefly, to say
goodbye.]

AP: Nice talking to you, Brett. We'll be in touch.

BG: Nice talking to you too, Alicia. Hope to see Alex on Friday. And
good
luck in your tag match tonight

[With that, Powers turns to walk out of the room. As she does, Brett
seems to tilt his head a bit. It's a very discreet movement, and it's
hard to tell exactly if it's even intentional or not, or what it is.
But
it could easily be interpreted as Brett checking out the pretty
brunette's rear end. The fact that he smiles widely while doing so
lends
some credibility to that theory. Still, it's not an obvious thing at
all,
and it lasts only a second before Brett turns back to his TV, unmuting
it
and changing back to the original channel.]

Curly: "Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!'

[Fade.]

V: I know he's your friend, Chad, but friends don't berate you just
because they disagree.

[An unseen woman's voice. The shot is focused on a pair of adjoining
halls from which the voice emanated. And then two people come into
view,
turning toward this hallway.

Chad Grimsson and Sonya Benedict.

Sonya is dressed in her wrestling attire: a turquoise sports bra, fine
fishnets covering her arms and upper torso, loose-fitting black with
turquoise striped wrestling tights, and black with turquoise trimmed
and
laced wrestling boots. Her long black hair, small pink streak and all,
flow straight down her back.

Chad, too, is dressed in his wrestling attire for the night. That being

a
pair of ripped and faded blue jeans covered by black leather chaps, a
black "Slayer- Slaytanic Wehrmacht" sleeveless t-shirt. and black
engineer boots. On his chin, he sports a blonde goatee and his hands
are
both wrapped in white tape. As he listens to Sonya speak, Chad can't
help
but hang and shake his shaved and tattooed head.]

Chad: Sonya, I know what it may seem like, but it's just the way he is.
Besides, afterall the help he's given Erik and me, we can't just drop
him. He was the only one willing to help us out with Sabbat Justice,
and
we owe him a lot for that.

SB: I understand. And believe me, I'm not suggesting that the two of
you
drop him. It's just... with all that history between you guys, you'd
think he would be a little more willing to accept the way you and Erik
handle these things.

Chad: [shrugs] It's just the way he is. And that will probably always
be
the case. Erik and I just accept it. But, Alex isn't the issue we need
to
discuss right now, Sonya. You are.

[Laughing a little, Sonya steps toward a door labeled "The Sons of
Cacophony" and opens it. But rather than walk in, she stops to address
Chad again.]

SB: Oh, don't worry about Angel. She can play her little games, but
sooner or later, she's going to have to deal with me in the ring. And
when that happens, she's going to like me a whole lot less.

Chad: Angel's not who I'm worried about.

[Chad and Sonya now enter the dressing room. Sonya takes a seat on the
couch, while Chad sits down in a chair across from her.]

Chad: Look, I know you're tough and more then capable of handling Angel
yourself. But I'm worried about the Hands of Death. I've had enemies
target friends of mine before to get to me, and I don't want that
happening to you.

[And while Sonya was once somewhat relaxed in the couch, now she's more
tense, leaning forward as she listens intently to what Chad has to say.
Finally she inhales deeply before letting it out.]

SB: You know I trust your instincts, Chad. And while I certainly don't
want to be their bait, there just aren't a whole lot of options we can
take to prevent it if that's what they're planning.

Chad: No way. I can't let something happen to you because of me. I
wouldn't be able to live with myself if that happened. We need to
figure
something out. There has to be something we can do.

[Sonya gets off the couch and takes a step toward Chad. She then kneels
down and leans back, her eyes locked with Chad's.]

SB: Actually, maybe there is. What about Corey Irons?

Chad: He's that dude you were hanging out with in the parking lot,
right?
What about him?

[Sonya nods.]

SB: Yep, that's him. He seems like a decent enough person. And quite
capable of handling himself in a fight. He also took Annis outtta' the
Road To The Gold. Maybe he could help us?

[Chad mulls this over for a second.]

Chad: Maybe. But will this be an inconvenience on him?

SB: Well, there's only one way to find out, right?

SB: Well, we both have our matches tonight, and I bet he's going to
want
to scout DaMann, so why don't we wait 'til Rampage?

Chad: Okay, settled. We'll talk to him first chance we get at SNR. But
until then, just be extra careful for me, okay?

[And Sonya grins.]

SB: You know me.

[Chad now laughs a bit at Sonya's response.]

Chad: Which is precisely why I'm having this discussion with you. I
never
know what you might be crazy enough to try and do.

SB: Well, I'll tell you what. Unless Angel's around, I'll do my best to
keep out of sight and out of trouble. Will that make you feel any
better
about this?

Chad: Yeah, that's good enough for me. So now that we've got that
settled, you ready for that Ishikawa woman?

[Sonya chuckles.]

SB: _Ready_? It's been too long since I've been in that ring, Chad.
First it was the suspension, and then waiting show after show for a
chance. And finally it's here. So you better believe I'm ready. How
about you?

Chad: [nodding] For sure. It'll be fun to aee what this DaMann guy is
made of. Well, probably not for him, but who cares about that, right?

[Realizing she's still kneeling on the floor, Sonya rises to her feet
and
sits back on the couch.]

SB: Absolutely. If he can't handle it, then he doesn't belong in this
sport. Same goes for Ishikawa.

Chad: Well, alright then. I think we know what we need to do, so let's
go
do it.

[And with that, Chad gets up from his seat, grabs Sonya from the couch
and slings her over his shoulder.]

[Caught by surprise, Sonya laughs.]

SB: What are you doing?

Chad: [smiles] Well, we don't want you to be late for your big return,
do
we? So, I'm taking it upon myself to be your transportation to the
ring.
So let's get going.

[More laughing from Sonya.]

SB: Well seeing as it's never a bumpy ride when you're carrying me,
march
on.

[With that, Chad heads to the door, opens it and heads out, shutting it
behind him, carrying a laughing Sonya Benedict on his shoulder as we
switch back to the announcers.]

GH: Sonya and Chad enjoying a lighter moment here, not too far off from
her return to the ring.

AW: And obviously that big idiot is too stupid to realize that he and
his
brother lost the tag team titles. Hey Cletus, that's a _BAD_ thing.

GH: You've got to admire the way Chad's taking this situation in
stride,
especially after being berated like he was at the top of the show today
by Alex Extreme. Alex seems to have taken the news harder than the
Grimssons.

The Hands of Death weren't the only ones to stun the wrestling
community
with their title win last weekend, Jacob Drake upset the One-Winged
Angel
to knock him out of the tournament and in the process also became the
new
Cruiserweight Champion of the World. He's coming up in our first match
tonight, facing Zero-G in his first title defense.
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FOR THE CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE WORLD:
Jacob Drake[c] versus Zero-G
........................................................................

[Zero-G came to the ring first to polite applause, but the crowd booed
the arrival of the new champion Jacob, heading down to ringside along
with his brother Edward and Allison Ivey. The trio of Youngbloods used
the numbers game to keep the referee's attention diverted as Zero-G was
the victim of several shady tactics from Jacob. A flying clothesline
from the top rope sent G to the floor, where Edward made a move only to
be held back by the official, but Allison delivered a huge groin shot
to
keep the high flyer grounded and Jacob flew over the top rope to the
outside with a huracanrana into the ground. Extremely dazed, Zero-G
soon
fell prey to a rotating fisherman suplex for the quick pin.]

DH: Here is your winner, AND STILL CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION...

JACOOOOOOOOB DRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!

GH: Getting off to a quick start in his title reign, although Jacob
obviously felt he needs to rely on his brother and Allison Ivey to get
the job done.

AW: Gimme a break Howard, he beat the Chicken-Wing on his own, why
would
he need help to beat Zero-Wins?

GH: I don't know, but judging from that match he clearly does.

AW: You're just upset that your boy Angel had his punk card pulled.

[We open to a corridor somewhere in the backstage area of the Kohl
Center. After a second or two, we hear a smattering of boos from the
crowd, as they see what we all see - John DeWolfe and his youthful
main
squeeze, Brianna Landis, in the midst of a conversation.]

BL: But Johnny, we need another partner! Tara and I can't beat all
three
of them by ourselves, we need help bigtime. What if we can't get
anybody, I mean everyone seems so jealous of us.

[DeWolfe puts a hand on Brianna's shoulder, and smiles to try and
counteract her pout.]

JD: Look, its okay to be worried babe. That's natural. But I've been in
this business at lot longer than you. Give me some credit, okay? I know
what I'm doing.

[Landis seems unconvinced, and continues to look concerned as she goes
on
in a whiny voice.]

BL: But HOW do you know? You got us into this situation, we need you to
help us! What have you done to try and help us?

JD: We'll find a partner. Trust me. There are tons of women in this
company, and pretty much any one of them would love to help me out. I
can
be pretty charming, you know. Remember that time I talked you into...

[DeWolfe trails off, but Brianna seems to have caught his drift, as she
blushes at the mention of - whatever it was. It's probably best we
don't
know. Suffice to say it was the best weekend of their lives. Anyway,
after a moment she composes herself, and returns to the whiny concerned
voice and facial expression. This is not an attractive change, and
DeWolfe seems to show that by shuddering just ever so slightly, as if
to
say "Here we go again."]

BL: But c'mon, puddin'... what's your plan? I'm freaking out over here,
we've got NOTHING to show for our efforts so far. All these girls
afraid
of the Bod Squad stealing their spotlight... which we'd do, natch...
but
you've gotta have a plan...

JD: Honey, baby, doll, you have to trust me. Here, let me put it to you
this way.

[DeWolfe coughs slightly, and then begins warming his throat up.]

JD: Mi mi mi mi!

BL: Oh no, please don't... not again, as it is I can never listen to
Hillary Duff the same way again...

JD: [singing]

# Sometimes the world looks perfect, #

# Nothing to rearrange. #

# Sometimes you... get a feeling #
# Like you need some kind of change. #

# No matter what the odds are this time, #
# Nothing's gonna stand in my way. #
# This flame in my heart, #
# And a long lost friend #
# Gives every dark street a light at the end. #

# Staaaaaaaa-nding tall, on the wings of my dream! #
# Riiiiiiiiise and fall, on the wings of my dream! #
# The rain and thunder... #
# The wind and haze... #
# I'm bound for better days. #

# Ahhhhh-ahhhhhh! #

# It's my life and my dream, #
# Nothing's going to stop me now. #

JD: [speaking] So you see, everything's gonna be fine. Do you
understand?

[Brianna rolls her eyes very noticeably, and sighs loudly.]

BL: Understand what?

JD: It's a classic, you don't remember it?

BL: Puddin', I was born in 1985.

JD: Oh.

I see.

Well, let me explain. You see, this guy lived in Chicago , right,
worked
for a newspaper. But then his cousin comes to America, and he needs-

[DeWolfe stops abruptly and turns his head. In the background of the
shot, we see what he sees - the UWF Women's champion, Sierra Browne,
walking down the hall carrying her title belt over a shoulder. DeWolfe
spins on his heels to face in the direction of the departing Browne,
and
begins to walk briskly towards here as he has time for only a very
brief
aside to Landis, over his shoulder.]

JD: Gotta take care of some business, babe!

[With that, DeWolfe starts to jog towards Browne, whose long, athletic
strides mean her walk is almost as fast as his run. DeWolfe is quickly
growing short of breath, struggling to catch up to Sierra and calling
out
to her occasionally. For her part, our Women's champion seems not to
notice DeWolfe.]

JD: Champ!.... [pant]... Champ! Back here...

[Finally, Sierra turns around to see the suddenly disheveled and
tired-looking DeWolfe, covered in sweat. She stops where she is, and
turns to face him, as the longtime UWF executive comes to a stop in
front
of her, doubled over and trying to catch his breath. He speaks
haltingly,
not able to get more than a couple of words out before needing to draw
in
more air.]

JD: You move... so very... very... fast.

SB: I walk. [Sierra stares at the man for a moment before shaking her
head.] What is it? Are you okay? Take a minute and breathe.

JD: Well I... sorry, it must be my allergies...

[Browne smirks, clearly not believing his explanation for being so
winded. DeWolfe just waits a moment to compose himself, oblivious to
the
fact that his white lie has failed to impress. When he speaks again, he
is more composed.]

JD: You see, as you may know - must know... I manage the Bod Squad.
The
elite force in women's wrestling today! Uh, except for you of course. I
saw you beat... what's her name? You know, the Korean one? Yeah, that
was
a great title defense. Wow. Sierra Browne. "The Show." You know, I'd
love
to have you on my show... er, my team. I don't have a show. What am I
even talking about?

[Browne interrupts, obviously tired of DeWolfe's babbling.]

SB: You're asking me to be on your team because I am the women's
champion?

JD: [excitedly] Yeah! Well, you see, the Bod Squad is a great tag team.
Top of the line! And I figure...

[Suddenly, DeWolfe's eyes seem to lose their focus, and his voice
trails
off ever so slightly.]

JD: Tag team. What a great tag team. Best... pair... I ever saw.

[And at that, the camera pans down just enough that we realize what
DeWolfe is looking at. At about the same time, Sierra looks at his
head,
and the angle at which it is tilted, and figures it out as well.

That's right, folks. John DeWolfe, who desperately needs a partner for
the Bod Squad, who had a chance to convince the dominant female in the
company to be that partner, who had a chance to bring the Women's
champion onto his side, has blown that chance. And he's done it because
he's too much of an ass not to stare at Sierra's chest. Lewdly. Openly.
Obviously. We're not talking about discreet glances, here, or sideways
glimpses, or fleeting looks. This is full on, burrowing laser beam,
male-chauvinist-pig-not-even-trying-to-hide-it-gawking.

And even when the disgust registers on Sierra's face, even when it
becomes obvious he's been caught red-handed, so to speak - he's too
stupid too stop.

Sierra taps him on the shoulder. As he suddenly realises what he's been
doing the Champ points to her face.]

SB: They are real. And they are spectacular. Is that all you wanted to
do? You just wanted to stare or did you really want to speak to me?

JD: [mumbling] I... they're so... I just want to...

SB: [giving a disgusted grimace] You wanted to stare. See you later,
DeWolfe. You disgust me. Sadly, I would have said yes, too.

[Without saying another word, Browne turns away imperiously and walks
quickly away from the still dazed DeWolfe. His chance to get the
Women's
champion to join his team gone, he shakes his head in disbelief, and at
that point seems to come back to his senses.]

JD: I can't believe I did that... again. I am SUCH an idiot!

But yet...

[DeWolfe allows a wide smile to cover his face.]

JD: It was totally worth it.

[Fade.]

GH: I can't help but feel dirty every time I see DeWolfe and Brianna
Landis together.

AW: And it's a feeling you like, isn't it?

GH: Not in the slightest. But it appears Sierra Browne will not be the
special partner for the Bod Squad, all because DeWolfe couldn't control
himself.

[Fade backstage. We find Amazing Grace, already dressed in her
wrestling
attire, leaning against the wall, drinking from a bottle of water. She
appears to be waiting for somebody.]

Kari: Hello Gracie.

[The Pride's Lioness Kari Stevens walks up toward Grace. Kari is also
dressed in her wrestling attire and smiles as she gets closer.]

Kari: Ready for a big win tonight?

[A cocky smile forms on Grace's face.]

Grace: Absolutely, Kari. I've got a tag team partner I know I can count
on and on the other side... pfft. That about sums it up.

Kari: Tell me about it! Tara Smith must really be scraping the bottom
of
the barrell with her latest partner. Of course, what does that tell you
about her opinion of her friend Arielle Starr that she'd partner with a
barely trained valet?

Grace: [chuckling] It's Tara Smith. Let's face it, smarts were never
her
strong point. Sometimes I think Arielle has more smarts than Tara
does...
not that it makes any difference when it comes to you, Kari.

Kari: I'd give Tara a bit of an edge over Arielle when it comes to
smarts. Tara does have a college degree while I don't think Arielle has
done anything since high school besides slutting around.

Grace: Point taken. [Chuckles] Still, does it matter? We've got more
smarts than all those Sun Belt Angels put together. The last time you
and
I teamed in MBC, it was a piece of cake dealing with our opponents. And

I
see no reason why it should be any different.

Kari: I've shown time and time again that I can beat the so-called
great
Tara Smith anytime I wish. Alicia Powers is just another in the long
line
of valets turned wrestlers. You know, the type that hypocrite Smith
used
to verbally bash several years ago? The Wind Walkers might think
they're
talented, but all they have is just a bunch of hot air.

Grace: Kind of like that ring rat Hernandez. Former tag team
champion...
ha! I knocked her into next week last Rampage, and hopefully I knocked
some sense into her at the same time.

[She takes another drink of water, then chuckles.]

Grace: And tonight, I know we'll do the same to Smith and Powers.

Kari: Hernandez? Who is Hernandez? Oh, she's the idiot who hangs out
with
Tigress. Well this week we might actually break a sweat.

[Kari starts laughing.]

Kari: Oh, who am I kidding?

Grace: [smirking] Eh, she's not our concern... far from it.

[She finishes off the bottle of water, tossing the empty bottle aside.]

Grace: What do you say... shall we go take the wind out of the Wind
Walkers sails?

Kari: Let's go then!

[Fade out.]

GH: There's a team that could certainly do some damage, Kari and Grace
are both accomplished singles wrestlers in their own right. Together,
they could be a very skilled tag team. But tonight they face another
skilled team in Alicia Powers and "Tornado" Tara Smith, so let's go
down
to ringside.
__ __ _ _ _
| \/ |___| | |_ __| |_____ __ ___ _
.................| |\/| / -_) | _/ _' / _ \ V V / ' \.................
|_| |_\___|_|\__\__,_\___/\_/\_/|_||_|

WOMEN'S TAG TEAM MATCH:
The Wind Walkers versus Amazing Grace & Kari Stevens
........................................................................

[With the audience firmly behind the fan favorites, Grace and Kari
tried
early in the match to ground their opponents with twin chopblocks and
then began to pound away. But after a double irish whip towards one
another Tara ducked and went low as Alicia Powers somersaulted over TTS
and nailed Grace in the chest with a dropkick. The Wind Walkers rallied
as Lisa Drake cheered them on from the corner, attacking Grace with a
double dropkick before sending her from the ring and leaving Kari to
start the match off thanks to the referee regaining control.

Alicia and Kari traded off hiptosses before settling into a technical
game of cat and mouse, as the Prideswoman buried a shoulder into
Alicia's
gut and swatted her down with a huge axehandle. A running powerslam
nearly scored a pin, but a late kickout started another rally by the
wife
of Alex Kidd and a rolling monkey flip allowed her to tag out to Tara
Smith. TTS and Kari unleashed a series of punches back and forth, but a
sly tag out to Grace quickly had the Tornado overwhelmed with a two to
one attack and before Alicia could chase Kari out her partner was taken
out with a double DDT. Grace went to work on Tara, but as she tried to
hit the Saving Grace bulldog Tara kicked her free and then took her
down
with a missile dropkick.

It was at this point that hell broke loose as the Bod Squad hit the
ring,
Marshall grabbing Smith and taking her to the mat to pummel her while
Brianna Landis pulled Alicia off the apron and caused her to hit her
head
on the apron. Lisa Drake grabbed Landis before she could do much more
damage though and threw her into the ring, while Kari and Grace
triple-teamed Smith along with Marshall before Drake hurled herself at
the trio, knocking them down like bowling pins. The four on three odds
were helped out as Arielle Starr and then Leslie Hernandez rushed down
the aisle to the ring as well, and one by one the fan favorites began
to
clear the ring of their enemies. The last to be sent to the outside was
Amazing Grace, who was hurled from the ring by Hernandez with
headscissors over the ropes. The crowd exploded as the Wind Walkers,
Leslie, Drake and Arielle stood together, arguing and jawing with the
Bod
Squad, Kari and Grace before security ushered them out.]

DH: The referee has declared this match A DRAW!

GH: Damn the Bod Squad, I can't believe they ruined another match!
Every
time they show up this program goes to hell and we lose out on quality
wrestling!

AW: No, every time they show up this program pops another rating and
young teenagers all over North American are popping something else.

GH: For the love of god, why Amanda?

AW: Because it ticks you off.

GH: [sigh] This level of chaos within the women's division has just
about
everybody on edge these days, and- hold on, I'm receiving word that
something's going on in the backstage area...

[The camera cuts quickly to the Kohl Center backstage parking gate and
a
scene of chaos. A team of white-clad medics and trainers are hovering
over the seated form of a black-haired woman wearing a crimson dress
and
black cloak. The trainers flash lights in her eyes and check her signs,
but she appears to be ok, just shaken up as she sits on the concrete
floor. While we have no way of knowing what has transpired just yet,
the
burnt rubber of a motorcycle skid mark that veers inches away from
Angel's position is probably a major clue.

As Angel assures the trainers of her stability, Moe Owens comes
shuffling
up and makes his way to her.]

MO: What the heck just happened here, Angel? I heard a tire squeal and
an
engine, then this herd of trainers rushed past me. I would've been here
sooner, but I needed to find a mic; I see the cameraman made it,
though.

ANGEL: Fine, thanks, and you?

MO: Sorry...

[Angel is helped to her feet by a medic, and nods her thanks as they
gather their equipment before departing.]

ANGEL: Don't be; I'm sure it's just a reflex for you. It's not as if
you
actively tried to be insensitive. As for what happened, I'm not
entirely
sure. I came here tonight to keep an eye on Sonya, since the UWF
higher-ups decided to dismiss my warnings and allow her in the ring
tonight. The next thing I know, I hear an engine behind me and turn to
see someone barreling toward me on a motorcycle.

MO: What?!

ANGEL: I managed to dive out of the way in time and might have thrown
him... or her, now that I think about it... off a bit, and she
struggled
to avoid wiping out. It looked like she was going to make another pass,
but then the medics showed up and she decided to take off instead of be
caught.

MO: So you're ok then?

[Angel reaches down and checks her boot.]

ANGEL: I think I broke a heel when I dove, but other than that, I guess

I
got lucky. She missed, but not by much.

MO: She?

ANGEL: You know who I mean, Moe -- Sonya Bennedict.

V: I see you're lying through your teeth again, Angel. What did I do
this time, knock you on your ass with a fly swatter?

[Rolling her eyes, a young woman steps into view.

"Twilight Angel" Sonya Benedict.

As was seen earlier, she is dressed in her wrestling gear. Her long
black hair, including the small pink streak, flows straight down her
back.]

ANGEL: Well, well. Speak of the devil in denial. Upset that you didn't
get the job done a couple weeks ago? Or did you just not want me here
to
watch you self-destruct in that ring tonight?

[Her eyes narrowing, Sonya takes a few more steps toward Angel; the
medics forming a semi-circle behind the other woman. When they are
almost nose-to-nose, Sonya gives her reply, a little more harshness in
her voice.]

SB: I'm getting pretty sick and tired of these bullsh[BLEEP]t stories
you've been spreading around.

ANGEL: And I'm getting tired of being jumped from behind week after
week!

SB: You know something? If I wanted to attack you, you'd be
_unconscious_ right now. Yet here you are, still standing. And starting
to get on my f[BLEEP]king nerves. I've said it once before, but I'll
say
it again... real slow, and real clear... so that this time you can
understand it.

ANGEL: I'm prefectly capable of understanding you, Sonya -- better than
you are, actually. But do go on.

SB: If I attack you, Angel, you'll see it coming. And when I'm done,
you'll need at least a week off just to recuperate. And make no mistake
about it... accuse me of something I've actually done, and I'll admit
it.

[She nods.]

SB: _Gladly_!

ANGEL: Something you've actually done? How about attack one of your
best
friends? Stab a man you loved in the back? Betrayed your so-called fans
just to put one over on a brain-dead slime like Underwood, who probably
could have been fooled by a puppet show? Any of that ring a bell? For
all
your talk about liking to do things face-to-face, your track record
seems
to suggest that you're equally prone to more underhanded methods --
just
like tonight.

SB: Yes I did those things! I admit it! But what I did sure as Hell
isn't who I really am! Nor is it something I enjoyed doing! I hated it,
but it was necessary! But if you keep pushing me the way you have, you
just might find out what I'm _really_ capable of!

V: All right, you two! BREAK IT UP!

[All parties turn toward the latest newcomer, UWF co-owner Becky Byers.
She doesn't come alone, either, as half a dozen security guards flank
her.]

BB: I don't know what actually went on here a few minutes ago, but it
looks like all we have to go on is "she said, she said".

[Becky points at Sonya.]

BB: Do you have anyone who can confirm that you weren't back here five
minutes ago?

[Not taking her eyes off Angel, Sonya replies; anger still in her
voice,
though she's at least lowered her voice just a bit.]

SB: _No_, I was alone. Just came out here for a little fresh air before
my match.

[Turning to Angel, Becky continues.]

BB: Are you absolutely sure that Sonya was the one who allegedly tried
to
run you down?

[Angel also refuses to break eye contact with Sonya as she replies.]

ANGEL: I know _exactly_ who was on that bike.

[Pinching the bridge of her nose, Becky makes a hard decision.]

BB: Then I have no choice but to order you both to head to the police
for
further inquiry.

[Shocked, Sonya turns her glare toward Byers.]

SB: What?! What about my match? You know how long I've been waiting to
get back in that ring.

BB: I'm sorry, Sonya... I can't ignore this. Not after Marshall Law.

[Sonya rolls her eyes again.]

SB: Don't tell me you actually _believe_ her.

BB: I don't have to, Sonya, and after all we've been through I really
don't want to. But like I said, I can't ignore her either. I'm sorry.

[Sonya turns back to lock eyes with Angel, her anger growing and her
voice raising again.]

SB: Make no mistake about it, Angel, this isn't over!

[Turning abruptly, she walks towards Byers.]

SB: Could you ask Chad to bring my clothes to the station? I don't feel
like wearing this all night if I'm going to miss my match.

BB: Of course.

[Sonya just nods her thanks before stepping towards the security
guards.
Two of them lead her off-screen as two more approach Angel. Fade back
to
ringside.]

GH: Oh no, Sonya Benedict was supposed to return to the ring this
evening
and now because of Angel it appears as though we won't be seeing her
out
here now.

AW: What do you mean because of Angel? Benedict tries to run her down
in
cold blood and because she survives it's Angel's fault?

GH: Amanda, you don't know that's what happened. You didn't see what
happened any more than I did.

AW: I know how whacked out those Benedicts can be, and Sonya's the
looniest of them all!

[Let's start this off...not with a bang, but with a...]

VO: [muffled] Brrk?

[And cue the fade up on a bizarre sight as we spy a large Green Bay
Packers helmet with a beak and a pair of taloned feet sticking out of
it.]

Ryu: Sorry buddy, but it's for your own protection!

Trice: Brrrrrrrrwwwwwk?!

[Nodding sagely, "Hentai" Ryu Osawa looks over at his handiwork. Behind
him, Virginia St. Ursula looks less than impressed.]

VSU: Ryu, I think you're being more than a bit silly here. Which, for
you, is saying something.

Ryu: Nonsense! No amount of extra defense is too good for my cock!

[Virginia sighs loudly, then shakes her head.]

VSU: I'm sure if Michael was around, he'd have a few choice comments
about that...where is he anyway?

Ryu: Patrol duty.

VSU: Patrol...duty?

Ryu: Yep! Y'know, just in case Dandy Candy's Illuminati buddies are
crawling about for some pre-fight mischief! Besides...

[Ryu suddenly looks serious.]

Ryu: ...Mike still looked like he had some steam to blow off. And I
can't say that I really blame him either for a change, what with what
Kidd and Landis did to us. Figured it was the healthiest option.

Trice: Brrrrrk...

[Ginny nods grimly.]

VSU: I just hope he's careful...

Ryu: Um, Manager? _I'm_ the one with the actual match tonight,
remember?
Can I get a little concern for my welfare here too?!

VSU: Of course, Ryu...

[Virginia suddenly takes the helmet off Trice and plops it down on
Ryu's
head.]

VSU: How's that?

Trice: BKAWK! [flutter-flutter-flutter]

Ryu: [muttering] I feel the love...

[Fade to sweet merciful green and gold.]
__ __ _ _ _
| \/ |___| | |_ __| |_____ __ ___ _
.................| |\/| / -_) | _/ _' / _ \ V V / ' \.................
|_| |_\___|_|\__\__,_\___/\_/\_/|_||_|

CRUISERWEIGHT INVITATIONAL TOURNAMENT FIRST ROUND MATCH:
Scorpio versus ???
........................................................................

[Scorpio paced around the ring waiting for his opponent, and the crowd
began to boo heavily as the mystery wrestler emerged from the back...
none other than Daniel Kidd. Kidd seemed less than impressed with his
opponent and after rolling into the ring paintbrushed Scorpio to start
off the match. Dan continued to attack with Scorpio off-guard,
hammering
him into the corner and refusing to release a chokehold until the
referee
was ready to disqualify him. A suplex back into the middle of the ring
left the masked man dazed and reeling, but he managed to avoid a
slingshot rolling elbow from Dan and bought some more time with a
roundhouse enzuigiri kick to the back of the head. Dan struggled to his
knees and found himself trapped in a front facelock, but snapped off a
northern lights suplex and rolled to the corner, rising slowly. Scorpio
got up and tried to hit a sunset flip only to be caught in a hotshot on
the top rope. Staggering right into Dan's grasp, the Pridesman executed
a reverse neckbreaker and hooked a leg for the three count to win.]

DH: Here is your winner, and advancing into the second round...

DAAAAAAAAAAAAAANIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEL KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDD!

GH: Well we didn't know who it'd be in that mystery spot, but Daniel
Kidd
now moves into the second round of the cruiserweight invitational
tournament! And looking at the brackets, he's set to face a very
familiar old foe, Dan Kidd will next take on Youth Gone Wild!

AW: What is this, 1997? Dan Kidd is going to have his way with Youth
Gone Decrepit, and then take his money afterwards. Pride trumps
ex-Legion, every time.

GH: I think there's a lot of people who would disagree with you Amanda,
especially after the performance Wild gave on this show last week.
Let's
head back to the ring now for what was scheduled to be Sonya Benedict's
return to the ring against one half of the women's tag champions, Naomi
Ishikawa. Although as it stands now, I'm not sure what's going to
happen.
__ __ _ _ _
| \/ |___| | |_ __| |_____ __ ___ _
.................| |\/| / -_) | _/ _' / _ \ V V / ' \.................
|_| |_\___|_|\__\__,_\___/\_/\_/|_||_|

WOMEN'S SINGLES MATCH:
Sonya Benedict versus "The Queen of Kawaii" Naomi Ishikawa
........................................................................

[Naomi stood in the ring waiting for Sonya to arrive, but when her
music
hit Benedict was nowhere to be found. With a frown on her face, Naomi
reluctantly had her arm raised by the referee in the forfeit victory
while Misaki and Rocko applauded from ringside. Together, the
Psychommunity left the arena to a mixed response.]

DH: As a result of a forfeit, here is your winner...

NAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOMIIIIIII IIIIISHIIIIIIIIIIIKAAAAAAAWAAAAAAAAAAA!

GH: That's a shame for Sonya, not to mention for us.

AW: Oh I'll get over it.

[The scene fades backstage to Lolita Love, making her way backstage.
There's a troubled look on the young woman's face, a frown etched on
her
features. She wears a pink camisole and a denim, mini skirt, completing
the look with mules. Her blonde hair is parted in the middle and falls
straight down her back. She brushes her hair behind her ears and lets
out
a small sigh, when a figure suddenly races past her, pushing her aside.

Lolita's gaze locks on the departing figure and she lets out a
surprised
gasp as recognition dawns on her.]

Lolita: Moira?

[Lolita immediately gives chase, running after the shadowed figure. The
lithe blonde rounds a corner and catches the stranger as it enters the
"ladies bathroom". A determined look crosses Lolita's face as she
marches
after the stranger, entering the bathroom with a flourish.]

Lolita: Moira?

[Sure enough, as soon as Lolita enters, she catches sight of Moira
Faith,
leaning over the sink. She wears her silken black hair tied into a bun
at
the back her head. A black leather corset tied with forest green
lacings
in the back wraps around her torso, the green mirrored in the front
with
crushed velvet panels in a striped pattern. The top crested in a green
rose nestled in her medium sized cleavage. It's matched with a calf
length black lacy skirt that's slit up both sides to her thighs showing
heeled boots up to her knees. A small trail of black mascara can be
seen
down her right cheek. Below the all most imperceptable line of dots,
scars, where Caine sewed her eye shut.

Immediately, there's concern in Lolita's blue eyes as she tentatively
walks over to the young woman.]

Lolita: Moira, are...are you okay?

[Lolita places a hand on Moira's shoulder. The contact elicets a sob
and
Moira pulls away.]

Lolita: Look, I'm glad that I caught you alone, without those other
two.
I...want to talk to you. I know that you didn't hurt my cat...Mr. Boo
Boo. I think you only wanted me to _think_ that you did.

[Lolita sighs. Moira's head sinks even lower, hanging in shame.]

Lolita: I don't think that you're like Myra and Caine. I've talked to
my
cousin, Lara Leigh, and she told me about the time you two spent
together
in Diamond Star Wresting. She said that you were a different person
back
then. In DSW, Naomi Ishikawa helped to show another side to you, show
that the things you did were all because of Caine's influence.

[Lolita brushes her hair behind her ears before hugging herself.]

Lolita: And I can't help but think that that's what's going on now. I
think that, underneath all of this..stuff that Caine and Myra have
helped
to create, is the same girl that Naomi befriended. And that girl
wouldn't
go out of her way to hurt some innocent person...or thing.

[Moira raises her head and looks in the mirror, her eyes are puffy and
she catches Lolita's gaze. As their eyes meet Moira clenches her's
shut.
She takes a deep stuttering breath, unable to calm herself. Lolita
steps
up and again puts a hand on Moira's shoulder. Moura doesn't flinch this
time. Instead she leans towards Lolita. She puts her own hand on top of
Lolita's, and looks back at her a faint smile on her face.]

Moira: You don't know how right you are.

[Moira suddenly sneers and yanks at Lolita's arm, her other hand coming
up to grab that pretty loose blonde hair and drives her forward over
the
sink into the mirror! It shatters with loud crash followed by the
tinkling of shards careening across the porcelein sink and tiled
flooring. Moira giggles darkly. Holding the Love sister's face pressed
into the broken mirror, keeping her arm hammerlocked behind her back. ]

Moira: Caine may have created me as my mother before had tried... He
may
have corrupted me... And Naomi may have even washed away my sin... But
then I CHOSE this. I chose to slowly slip into sin.

[The sound of the heavy bathroom door swinging open, the slight squeak
of
hinges interrupt Moira. It closes again and is followed by the sound of
metal on metal as the deadbolt is engaged, finishing with a click. At
the
crown of Lolita's head her blonde hair is starting to become tinged
orange with blood.]

Moira: He beat me, he cut my ear, he sewed my eye shut, but I always
had
a choice, Lolita. What your _cousin_ couldn't tell you... What the TV
during Empress Cup didn't show you... Was that I always had a choice.

[Footsteps echo in the otherwise empty bathroom. And stepping into view
is a young woman.

"Poison Bliss" Myra Benedict.

She's dressed in an unbuttoned blue denim jacket over black Children of
Bodom "Follow the Reaper" t-shirt, denim jeans, and boots on her feet.
Her wavy, dark brown hair with red highlights falls down around her
shoulders, framing her scarred face.]

Moira: It was simple to end it all. Death washes away all sin. I had my
choice. Kill the defenseless creature Naomi had created at the end of a
blade... Or kill the defenseless creature Naomi had created with the
edge
of my soul!

[There's another door opening sound. This much lighter. The sound of a
stall door, and heavy footsteps following. Walking into the view this
time is Caine Tainer, "The Angel of Death." Caine is wearing his normal
stonewash white jeans and old beat up cowboy boots, even the dingy
white
cowboy hat, but with a black t-shirt that reads Sexual Predator on the
back. Inbetween the sinister words is the image of fanged teeth spread
wide open around an indescript image in red. Though one thing stands
out,
a seemingly severed female head. Moira begins to yell at the girl, her
face contorting with the rage.]

Moira: What do you think I chose? Do you think I wouldn't hurt you
NOW!?
Do you think anything that little bitch burdened me with still holds me
back from taking up a piece of this broken glass and digging through
your
chest to find your heart!? DO YOU!?

[Moira spins Lolita around violently, snarling at her using on arm
across
her throat to hold her bent backwards over the sink. Caine leers at her
nastily. Myra kneels down and picks up a long skinny shard of glass.
Pulling a long skinny piece of cloth from her pocket she wraps it
around
one end, forming a handle. Moira's voice sounds all most sweet.]

Moira: Well?

[Lolita takes half a breath, ready to say something and Moira's other
arm
comes across jawline snapping her head to the side.]

Moira: Aren't going to answer me?

[This time to stop her Moira digs her forearm into Lolita's throat
cutting off her breath before she can take it. She struggles but with
the
blood beginning to trickle down her forehead and lack of oxygen in her
lungs it's a useless effort. Moira leans forward until her startingly
blue eyes, made that way by contacts, are right in front of Lolita's
own
blue eyes, which are wide and filled with a mix of panic and terror.
Moira whispers.]

Moira: Of course you don't think I'd do that. Not me. Caine and Myra
couldn't make me do THAT. Not me. Not poor, sweet, Moira Faith... Not
Akiko Masai. Not the girl who Naomi Ishikawa coddled and declawed...

[Moira holds her hand out and Myra hands her the makeshift knife with a
dark gleam in her eye and fiendish smirk on her lips. Caine just
continues to leer at Lolita. She looks like she's about to pass out,
eyes
becoming glassy.]

Moira: Didn't anyone ever tell you that's it stupid to try and
domesticate a wild animal?

[Moira places the point of the glass against Lolita's chest. She lets
up
on Lolita's windpipe and the girl gasps raggedly for air, desperate to
breath in. In presses the glass, just enough to draw a drop of blood
that
rolls down and is absorbed by the pink fabric of the camisole.]

Moira: Especially one big... sharp... claws...

[Moira twists the glass ever so slightly causing Lolita to whimper in
pain.]

Moira: Can we keep her?

[Caine cackles.]

Caine: Whatever you want darlin'. Just so long as you and Myra can
share
nicely.

[Chuckling, Myra nods in agreement.]

PBMB: [icily] Oh, I think there's _plenty_ of her to go around.
Wouldn't
you agree, Moira?

[Moira stetches up on her tip toes until her lips press against
Lolita's
forehead, smearing the thin trail of blood into a roughly shaped lip
imprint. She pulls away, her soft pink lipstick covered in the sanguine
red of blood.]

Moira: I think so.

[Fade to black.]

GH: Come on, those two need some serious attitude adjustment! Moira
Faith and Myra Benedict are sick, just sick.

[SCENE: A hospital room. "Violent" Victor Frost is lying in bed,
unconscious. His head is heavily bandaged. The is wearing a hospital
gown
and an IV drip is attached to his arm. Beside the bed sits Roxy Mayhem,
chewing gum and leafing through a Rolling Stone magazine, boredom
obvious
on her face until a drawn-out sigh by Victor catches her attention.]

RM: Vic?

[The German's eyes flutter open. He sits up in bed, grimacing.]

VF: Was zur Hölle ...

RM: It's okay, Vic. That Sabbath freak sneak attacked you and knocked
you
out, but the doctors say things are good.

VF: Good?

[Frost winces again.]

VF: What did he hit me with, a power drill? My head feels like it is
split wide open.

RM: Actually ... it was.

[Frost gingerly touches the bandages covering his head.]

VF: I must look like a mummy.

RM: They had to put like 8 stitches into that wound into the back of
your
head, you know? It was pretty much more gore than one of those mummy
movies. Dawn of the Dead, I'd say, and ...

VF: Wait a minute.

[He starts to feel to the bandages.]

VF: That cut ... they had to shave my head, don't they?

RM: Vic, that is not so bad it ...

[With a frantic look in his eye, Victor starts to tear at the
bandages.]

RM: Vic, no!

[He does not listen, of course, and a moment later we see that it is
true: The doctors had shaved his head.]

VF: [BLEEP] !

RM: Please, calm down, you are going to open up the ...

VF: Calm down?

[He grabs Roxy's arm and pulls her close.]

VF: Look at me! I am a gottverdammte Kojak-impersonator. I never acted
like one of them prissy prettyboys but this is a joke!

[He runs a hand over his bald head.]

VF: My grandfather had more hair when he died!

RM: It really is not that ugly. It becomes you.

[For a moment it looks as if Victor might slap her, so full of hatred
is
his glare. Then, he gives her a shove that has her topple backwards.]

VF: It becomes me, eh? We will see how you think about it when ... cut
that damn camera!

[Fade to black.]

GH: I don't know about you, but I don't think it was a good idea on
Sabbath's behalf to make Victor Frost angrier and more likely to lash
out.

AW: Poor Vic, he's already had a lot to deal with. This is too much!

[Cut. A slightly disheveled John DeWolfe, his hair in disarray and his
face locked in an expression of nervous concern, stands in front of a
locker room door. No, not stands, but paces in a single spot, shifting
from foot to foot, as he talks to himself.]

JD: Okay, John, you can do this. No need to be intimidated. ... Just
think of what you want to say.

"Uh, I was wondering, since you've been a champion so many times,
and..."

[DeWolfe shakes his head angrily.]

No, that's no good. I know! I'll just wing it! That's always gotten me
through troubles before.

[DeWolfe takes a deep breath, crosses himself quickly, and then knocks
gently on the door. From behind it, we hear a slightly muffled female
voice.]

Woman: I'm decent.

[With that, DeWolfe pushes the door open, and prepares to take a step
into the room. Before he gets more than a couple of steps, however, he
stops dead in his tracks and just takes in the scene in front of him.
Given the smart work of the camera operator to be in position, so too
can
we. The multiple time Women's champion and former Meltdown champion,
Tigress, sits as she casually applies wax to a razor-sharp katana. She
doesn't even look up at DeWolfe, barely registering his existence -
which, if we think about it, is probably not a bad policy in general.
Meanwhile, in a far corner of the room, Harley sits perched on a pair
of
huge, muscular back legs, prepared to pounce on a hapless stuffed bunny
rabbit in some sort of sadistic hunter's training game. She is
distracted, however, by DeWolfe's entry, and for a moment she looks up
and growls ever so slightly in greeting before turning back to the toy
rabbit. Upon taking all this in, DeWolfe's composure ebbs a little bit,
and when he speaks, it is nervously.]

JD: [Pointing to Harley] Does, uh, does that mean she likes me?

[Still without looking up, Tigress responds in a detached voice while
she
continues buffing her blade. And no, that's not a metaphor or anything,
she's waxing that sword's blade, remember? Perverts.]

T: No. She just doesn't perceive you as a threat. Now can I help you or
is this a social visit?

JD: I was just wondering... if it's not too much trouble... or, er, or
any trouble... since you're so... um...

[Tigress cuts him off by pointing the katana towards him and sighting
along the blade.]

T: My patience is notoriously short. Out with it.

[At this, DeWolfe begins to really fear he has made Tigress impatient.
He also fears the wrath of the huge tiger about 10 feet away who is
holding the toy by the throat and shaking it vigorously, and seems
quite
happy to do so. Like a dam breaking, we can see his resolve crack, then

a
second later collapse utterly, as he backs out of the room as quickly
as
decorum will allow.]

JD: Nothing, nothing, I have to go now!

[Terror in his eyes, DeWolfe turns and bolts as soon as he is out of
the
room. As he does, we see Tigress just shrugs and continue on with her
task. The camera then turns to follow DeWolfe's panicky run down the
hallway. As he turns a corner, we hear a loud...

CRASH!

A microphone flies into view, rolling down the hallway. Knowing they've
missed something, we can tell that the camera operator is running to
get
into position as the shot bobs up and down while moving forward. After
a
few seconds, the camera turns the corner, and we see DeWolfe in the
background, still running down the corridor. Closer to us, however, is
Moe Owens. He is lying in a heap on the floor, a stack of papers
scattered all around him. Owens looks up at the camera, with bewildered
look on his face.]

MO: What was THAT all about?

[Fade.]

GH: Strike two, DeWolfe.
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SINGLES MATCH:
Andrew "Flash" Tucker versus Alex Kidd
........................................................................

[Alex was up against Tucker, but also had to deal with Mike Sebastian
at
ringside and spent much of the match fighting against the numbers
disadvantage. As a result Tucker owned the early part of the match with
a high impact offense, and also made sure to taunt Kidd and make fun of
his newly shaven scalp courtesy of the Illuminati. Tucker made a
mistake
by going to the top rope too early though, and the veteran instincts of
Kidd kicked in as he pulled his knees up and blocked a splash.

Alex worked on the left arm of Tucker and repeatedly sent him flying
with
hiptosses before a spectacular toss right into the corner upside down,
leaving Tucker in a tree of woe and the former world champion
immediately
hit a dropkick square in the face as a followup that gave him a two and

a
half count. As Alex began to build up steam though Sebastian tripped
him
up and left Kidd open to a blindside enzuigiri kick, but after Tucker
suplexed his opponent across the ring he missed on the Chronic Jumble
Jaw
because Jamie Underwood came through the audience and leapt the
barrier,
grabbed Sebastian and bulldogged him into the floor from behind. This
left Tucker open to a full nelson bulldog from Alex and the three count
for a loss, but immediately after the match ended Jamie leapt into the
ring and began to pound on Tucker without mercy. The referee threatened
a reversal of the decision, prompting a nearly irate Alex to pull
Underwood off of the Strictly Business member. Jamie and Kidd had
heated
words but after a tense standoff left separately and without incident.]

DH: Here is your winner...

AAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLEX KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDD!

GH: Alex picking up the win here, but Jamie Underwood seems utterly
determined to make the Illuminati start paying for their sins when they
turned on him and beat him down several weeks ago. Even if he gets in
the way of Alex to do so.

AW: We'll see how gung-ho he is after they draw and quarter him next
time.

GH: Say, doesn't Alex look an awful lot like Victor Frost now?

AW: SHUT UP, HOWARD.

GH: This weekend on Rampage Alex Extreme will square off with Luke
Kinsey, but earlier this week Alex was at UWF Headquarters in Toronto,
summoned by the board of directors. Have a look.

[The camera cuts to Alex Extreme sitting outside of what looks like a
board room. The doors open as well dressed professional types start
leaving and walking out of the room. After four or five leave, Becky
Byers comes out of the room and walks over towards Alex.]

AE: Well?

[Byers shakes her head in the negative.]

AE: Well that's just great. Winston and Marshall put together a insane
little agreement hours before they lost control and now, in order to
get
a title shot, I have to put my career on the line.

BB: Actually, it's worse than that.

AE: Excuse me?

BB: They've seen the numbers Alex. Quarter hours with you and Keening
all
rate highly. That Keening-Extreme feud piece on UWF.com that was done a
year or two ago is the most downloaded thing on our website right now.
The company with the rights to all the old UEW shows is telling us
they've had a spike in sales on anything related to Keening and
Extreme.
Ebay trading for bootleg RCW tapes with that segement where you attack
Ken Keening are hot.

Voice: Amazing isn't it? For once people actually want to watch one of
your matches.

[Extreme and Byers look over toward Jessica Marshall who's just walked
out of the conference room and over to them.]

JFM: Did you really think this end around was going to work? I told you
and those two idiots you hang out with you'd never get near the title.
The only chance you had was Road to the Gold and that wasn't going to
happen once I made sure you were paired with Serge Annis. The only way
you're going to see the UWF title is when your friend Martinez loses to
Scott Daniels at Gold Rush--unless...

[She pauses as a smile comes across her face.]

Unless you be a man and sign the dotted line.

BB: Okay that's enough.

JFM: It's not even close Becky.

[Jessica once again looks over at Extreme.]

JFM: You messed around in my business. You made me the butt of your
jokes. You humilated me and destroyed Marshall Law. Unlike the rest of
pretty boys and fan favorities, you weren't protected like Lee, Brown,
or
even Martinez. Truth is you've never been much of draw just a good
regional act. You're an overachieving midcarder who's been living on
borrowed time. So I took the one thing you wanted, your most hated
enemy,
put your career on the line, and the truth is no one--not Becky Byers
or
anyone at the UWF--cared to make sure you didn't get screwed. And now
you're stuck in a match everybody wants to see including the UWF board
of
directors.

[She pauses for a moment...]

JFM: There's only one way out Alex. The question is whether going to
own
up to it or continue to run away and hide. My guess? You'll run--just
like you've run from Jason Keening for the last five years of your
career. You can't beat him--you know it, I know it, and soon one way or
another everyone else will too. Whether there be a gauntlet or just an
empty arena.

[Extreme's eyes widen as Marshall smirks and turn to Byers.]

JFM: A pleasure to see you again Becky.

[With that Marshall walks off as Alex gets up and storms off the other
direction leaving Becky Byers in a now deserted hallway.]

AW: You reap what you sew, Extreme. Fatality will see you in hell.

GH: I'm not sure about Alex, but I think Fatality's pretty much a lock.
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CRUISERWEIGHT INVITATIONAL TOURNAMENT FIRST ROUND MATCH:
L. Dan Dee versus "Hentai" Ryu Osawa
........................................................................

[The battle began in the aisleway as Ryu was blindsided by L. Dan Dee,
and smashed into the dasher boards at the urgence of Olivia Michaels.
The Illuminati member followed up by throwing Ryu into the ringpost,
but
the unpredictable Ryu was able to swing around the post and catch LDD
with a dropkick, evening the score and knocking him into the near
boards.
Taking full advantage, Ryu even managed to goose Olivia and sent her
running halfway up the aisle.

Once the match entered the ring Ryu became a blur, using the ropes for
several high risk maneuvers and constantly keeping LDD off his feet. A
reverse huracanrana sent Dan Dee hard into the corner, but he countered

a
charge with a trip headfirst into the turnbuckles to slow Osawa down
and
then several well concealed chokes as LDD leaned all of his weight down
across Ryu's throat with his shin. As Ryu gasped for breath, Dan Dee
rose to his feet and prepared to hit a piledriver, but a backdrop ended
the threat and a running clothesline propelled both over the ropes to
the
floor. While there, Michaels helped LDD back to his feet and began to
complain to the referee about the legality of the clothesline, which
opened Ryu up for a surprise attack by Dan Kidd, who popped out of the
crowd and drove Osawa into the steel steps with a spear. A huge knee
across the side of his head left Ryu barely conscious as Michael Bonn
charged down to ringside to get Kidd fleeing into the crowd, but the
damage was done as Dan Dee executed a piledriver and scored the pin on
Ryu to move on.]

DH: Here is your winner, and advancing into the second round...

L. DAAAAAAAAN DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

GH: Dammit, Daniel Kidd has screwed Ryu Osawa right out of the
tournament! Thanks to him L. Dan Dee is moving on to the second round
to
face Miguel Quesada, but poor Ryu had to face an uphill battle here
tonight and ultimately lost to the numbers game.

AW: At least now he and his tag team partner have something for real in
common... they're both losers!

GH: Kidd may think he's got the last laugh here, but I have a feeling
the
war between the Cornerstones and Don't Go There is just getting
started.
Bonn doesn't need much to go off the deep end, and I don't think Ryu
will
be holding him back next time.

[The sound of footsteps against a tiled floor echo throughout the
backstage halls. A moment passes before "War Machine" Corey Irons
emerges from around a corner. He wears his usual leather jacket,
sunglasses, and ripped jeans. Walking towards the screen for a moment,
he stops, before leaning a hand against the wall beside him.]

CI: Mistakes...

[He removes the shades from his head, and tucks them into a pocket in
his
jacket.]

CI: Everyone makes 'em. Some men learn from their mistakes, treating
them as hard lessons that are just part of life. Some folks deny them,
refusing to acknowledge that they've made them at all. And others?

Well... let's just say that others still continue to make 'em.

It's these types of men that just _never_ learn.

[He lifts his hand from the wall beside him, and takes a step forward.]

CI: I'm one of those men.

Always been that way. I'm one of those types whose known to push
himself
too far, even if it means he won't live past the age of forty. Years
ago, I became acknowledged as a man who lived solely for the heat of
battle, and an early grave was just a small price to pay. And ya know
what?

It's nice to know that some things just never change.

Yet despite all this, I've always been known as a man who answers a
challenge, as opposed to picking the fight. I'm a man with few enemies,
never going out of his way to throw the first punch. It's a standard
routine for me to fly below the radar, turning a blind eye until
someone
else steps in front of me and starts swinging.

_That_ is when the fight begins.

_That's_ when mistakes happen.

When a man confronts me, I've always made sure he realized the err of
his
ways. It doesn't matter where you go, or who you've met in this
industry... the men who've beaten Corey Irons are few and far between.

Hell... who else can come back after two and a half years on the shelf,
and tear through the roster like a knife through butter? Who else can
show up at Road to the Gold and make headlines by eliminating giants
and
legends... and have the crowd chanting his name during his _first_
appearance on Rampage?

Corey Irons, that's who...

A guy you just don't f[bleep!] with!

[Eyes fixed to the camera, he pauses. He then brings his hands together
by curling his right hand into a fist, and jabbing it into an open left
palm.]

CI: However, some would argue that I changed all that by my actions
last
week. I let the world watch as I barged in on another man's business,
and now I've gotten myself into a fight that would never have happened
otherwise.

And as Trey DeMann would tell you, I've made the _mistake_ of a
lifetime.

Signing a contract that had absolutely nothing to do with me...
scamming
one of the rich boy's cronies into giving me the match...

And now everyone thinks I've thrown the first punch...

That's not what Corey Irons is about.

Ask any man in this industry, and they'll tell you I've got nothing to
gain by stepping in the ring with Trey DeMann. Question any critic or
promoter backstage, and they'll tell you there's no benefit to picking
a
fight with a rookie who could make himself famous at your expense...

Imagine that... having absolutely nothing to win... nothing to gain...

[He lowers his hands, and cracks a smirk.]

CI: The _hell_ there isn't.

I stated from day one that I was here to be a part of history. I made
it
perfectly clear that I came onboard so that I could be remembered. I
wanted to make sure that the next time this federation wrote another
chapter into the pages of time, that _I_ was a part of it.

And Trey... what you did...

You left an open contract for _Gold_ _Rush_.

[He pushes aside a strand of his long, wavy hair.]

CI: _Gold_... _Rush_.

There _is_ no bigger stage in our game... no single event that makes
more
headlines each year. It's a night that isn't forgotten even ten years
down the road. And there I was, minding my own business backstage when
I
walked past your one-way ticket to the gates of wrestling Heaven. So
Trey, in my position...

What would _you_ have done?

What would anyone have done, for that matter?

So if I can make one thing clear, I _never_ started this fight. _You_
did, by leaving your cronies backstage to make sure that the earth
stopped turning, and that time stopped ticking until someone showed up
to
answer your call. And so I did what I've always done...

I answered a challenge.

And that, my friend... is what Corey Irons is about.

[He places his hands on his sides.]

CI: So yeah, I know this isn't the match you wanted. You wanted a shot
at the big gold, yet you couldn't muster the _brainpower_ to state it
in
writing. Well Trey...

You f[bleep!]ed up...

And the result is the one thing you'll live to regret the most...

The biggest mistake of your life...

And it comes in the form... of Corey Irons.

[He walks past the camera, and leaves, as we fade back to ringside.

The camera now cuts to the Kohl Center's backstage area. Here, we find
"Mockingbird" Nina Grimsson with UWF on the scene reporter, Moe Owens.
Dressed for her match, Nina wears a pair of ripped black and white
camoflauge pants, a black "Wolfsbane: Loco" longsleeve t-shirt, black
Nike amateur wrestling shoes, and black kicking pads. She has both
hands
wrapped in white tape, and her long, black hair worn down and straight.
Moe wears a UWF polo shirt and khakis, and carries a microphone in his
right hand.]

Moe: Hello, UWF fans. Moe Owens here with one of the most popular
competitors in the UWF women's division, "Mockingbird" Nina Grimsson.
Nina, tonight you have a match with Donna Tetrault, with the number one
contendership to Sierra Browne's women's title on the line. Your
thoughts?

Nina: [shrugging] It is what it is, Moe. I'm just looking at it as a
match with a very good opponent. however, right now, I have no use for
the prize of number one contender.

Moe: Even if you beat the former champion?

Nina: [nodding] While a win over someone like Donna is certainly
impressive, I will still have more to do. There are a lot of women
still
ahead of me. Besides Donna, I would say that Harper, Smith, Tigress,
Hernandez, and even Monet are just some of the women who should be
considered ahead of me for a title shot at this time. And leapfrogging
them based on the outcome of one match, or even the champion's wishes,
is
pretty much against everything I set out to do.

Moe: Speaking of Sierra, would you care to comment about what
transpired
on between you on the last SNR?

Nina: Yes I would, Moe. What I did to Sierra was completely accidental.
For that, I apologize to her. I won't lie and say I didn't throw that
kick on purpose, because I did. But I never meant to strike Sierra with
it. But on that note, I still owe one to the intended receiver.

Moe: That being Marissa Monet?

[Nina nods her head.]

Nina: That's right.

Moe: Well, you know, Sierra may not see it that way, don't you.

[Nina sighs and nods her head.]

Nina: Oh, believe me, I know. And I've seen the replay of it many
times,
and I'll be honest, I would certainly understand if she did look at it
that way. On top of that, I'm sure Marissa is feeding her with lies
that
I did hit her on purpose, so I'm afraid things will get pretty tense.
But
I'm ready for that.

Moe: Do you think others will believe that it was an accident?

Nina: I hope so. While I've never claimed to be the epitome fair play,
one thing I never do is attack somebody unprovoked, especially after
I've
come to a peaceful agreement with them to solve a dispute. That would
be
crazy to do that, especially when we were both satisfied with the
terms.
When you break this whole thing down, if Marissa Monet hadn't inserted
herself into the situation, Sierra and I both walk away with everything
resolved and without incident.

Moe: So you're blaming Marissa for what happened?

Nina: More or less, yes. I take responsibility for my actions, but
remember, what I did was a matter of self defense. It just happened to
be
a worst case scenario situation where the wrong person got hurt. I
regret
that deeply, and again I apologize wholeheartedly to Sierra Browne for
what happened.

Moe: Well, I have no doubt you're being honest about your side. But I
also have no doubt that Marissa, Dalbello, and possibly even Sierra may
not be so willing to let this go. Does that concern you at all?

[Nina mulls this question over for a minute, then turns to face Moe.]

Nina: Well, in the case of Sierra, yeah, I'd be a little upset, but at
the same time, I could understand where she would be coming from.
There's
no doubt in my mind that Marissa and Dalbello have been in her ear the
whole time telling her that I ws just looking to cheapshot her, and why
wouldn't she believe them? They're two of her best friends who've been
with her through thick and thin. So yes, I would hate for things to
truly
sour between Sierra and me over this.

[Nina now breathes in deeply through her nose, her face contorting a
bit
as she is clearly getting angry thinking about this.]

Nina: Dalbello and especially Marissa, on the other hand, I could care
less. Hell, I'd welcome it now.

Moe: Would you care to elaborate on the reasons why?

Nina: Because this was a mess that was created by them. They had no
business being there in the first place. But that's what Marissa does.
While she is certainly a first class wrestler, she is also a first
class
idiot and always has been. And maybe it's time somebody showed her that
it would sometimes be prudent to keep that big mouth of hers shut.

Moe: Well, I think that's all I need. Nina, thank you very much for
your
time.

Nina: [nodding] Thank you, Moe.

[With that, Nina and Moe both head their seperate ways as the camera
cuts
back to Greg and Amanda.]

GH: We're almost set for that big number one contenders match between
Nina and Donna Tetreault, but Moe spoke with Donna earlier tonight as
well. Let's go to that now.

[We fade in on a bright sunny day here on the campus of the University
of
Wisconsin in Madison. Some students are dashing off to class, others
lazing about in their school colors. Some visitors are here as well. In
fact, there's a young woman wearing a certain grey fedora and a pair of
Ray-Bans sitting under a tree and people-watching right now...]

DT: [nodding to the beat] ...badger badger badger
badger badger...

VO: Donna! Donna! Donna, a few words please!

[Lazily lowering the sunglasses, Donna Tetreault sighs and looks up at
the incoming (and panting) UWF backstage reporter Moe Owens.]

DT: Sheesh Moe, not used to fresh air and sunlight, huh?

MO: Donna, what do you have to say about your upcoming match against
Nina Grimsson for the Number One Women's contender match?

DT: About [MEEP]ing time for starters... [She pulls herself back up to
her feet and smirks.] It's bad enough that that passive-aggressive
prima
donna has now erased ANY prestige and worth that _I_ brought to that
belt! But now BrowneNose is claiming to be a "fighting champion" as she
hides behind those two rejects from the LA Clippers! It's pathetic
really.

[Donna grins.]

Fortunately, Jessica Marshall, in her infinite wisdom, realizes this
and
is taking matters to rectify this mistake. Of course, Byers has to
stick
her fingers in and ruin it! Not only do I have to fight for what should
already be my due right for a rematch -- on Meltdown of all places --,
but it's against a woman who has already admitted that she doesn't WANT

a
shot at the title! Way to listen to your employees, Becks. Y' know,
I'm pretty sure ol' Steph had a hand in this, speaking of
brown-nosing...

MO: Actually, Nina said that she wanted to earn her shot from starting
at the bot--

DT: [cutting Moe off] Whatever. It's still a case of Byers AND
Harper's petty manipulations to make me face the Sister Grimm.

MO: You're not just saying that because you're scared of Nina Grimsson,
are you?

[The former Women's champ snorts, then sneers.]

DT: Please. Granted, out of all the "extreme" wannabes and potentially
homicidal girls we've got infesting the UWF right now, I probably hate
Nina Grimsson the least. But as a poor dead Bastard once said, "Extreme
is someone who wants to break the rules, but isn't good enough to get
away with it."

[Donna places the fedora over her heart in a mock salute.]

DT: Ah, Simon...here's to wherever gutter you're rotting in now...
*sniff*

[A moment of silence. Then, a bastardly grin pops back up on
Tetreault's
face as she claps Owens on the shoulder.]

DT: But don't fret, Moe! Despite certain people's blatant jealousy and
attempts to hold me back, you can rest assured that the Women's title
is
coming back to a REAL champ soon.

[Cut back to the arena.]
__ __ _ _ _
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WOMEN'S #1 CONTENDERS MATCH
Donna Tetreault versus "Mockingbird" Nina Grimsson
........................................................................

[Tetreault had the crowd working against her from the very start,
coming
out to the ring with the fedora and Ray-Bans once belonging to the
Mightiest Bastard of all, but a quick flurry out of a lock-up with Nina
got the crowd cheering, especially once the Mockingbird hurled
Tetreault
to the mat with a judo style takedown. Grimsson was on her game
technically speaking early, cutting Donna off at the pass each time
with
a snapmare into a bridging chinlock or an armdrag takedown followed by
a
well timed backslide for a near pinfall.

Tetreault managed to slow Nina down with a vicious knee-drive right
into
the side of her hip, and after that specifically targetted the legs and
knees of her opponent to try and soften her up for a submission hold.
Although slower, Nina still managed to strike hard with a few uppercuts
and then caught Donna with the Marine Throat Lock before the former
champion struggled to the ropes to break out. Loudly complaining to the
referee didn't really help Donna much, but it did give her an opening
to
use an eye gouge to regain control and promptly took Nina's leg out
from
under her with a chopblock next.

A small package rollup from Nina nearly ended the match once again, and
more complaining from Donna only set her up for a bodypress by the
Mockingbird that got the crowd cheering heavily, until Tetreault ducked
and caused Nina to crash and burn. Donna quickly hit a rollup, and with
hands on the ropes for as much leverage as possible she scored a three
count that shocked and then angered the crowd, booing heavily.]

GH: NO! Tetreault scores a very, VERY, cheap victory and the referee
didn't see anything- Oh wait a minute, here comes Stephanie Harper down
to ringside!

AW: God, what's her problem? You already lost to her, many times Steph!

[The crowd continued to boo heavily as Grimsson sat in the corner,
surprised and clearly angry that she fell victim to Tetreault's
chicanery
while Stephanie shakes her head repeatedly and points at Tetreault
before
taking the referee aside and kicking at the ropes with her feet,
explaining what happened. The referee looks back and forth from
Tetreault, who's blissfully unaware and celebrating the win, and after
a
conference with Debs...]

DH: Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has ordered that this match BE
RESTARTED!

AW: WHAT?!?

GH: Finally some justice! NINA GRIMSSON SPINS DONNA AROUND...

DRAGON SPIKE! ONE! TWO! THREE! The match is over!

DH: Here is your winner...

NNNNNNNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNAAAAAAAA GRRRRRRRRRRIMMMSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!

AW: I don't believe this garbage! This is crap, Donna won the match and
Harper had to go and stick her nose in!

GH: The referee restarted the match because Tetreault clearly cheated
to
gain the three count! Nina simply took advantage by doing what she
always does, she improvised and adapted to the situation in front of
her!

[Grimsson climbs into the crowd and celebrates with the audience as a
battered Donna climbs to her knees and shoots the evil eye at Harper,
who
shrugs and heads back up the aisle.]

AW: Who the hell made her the patron saint of this place anyway?

GH: Stephanie has vast experience as a referee, not to mention a valid
referee's license. And careful there Amanda, you're starting to sound
like Tara Marshall there.

AW: She's absolutely right. Harper, you had no right to get that match
restarted!

[With the "Earlier Tonight" logo located in the bottom corner of the
screen, the camera fades in to a dormitory located near the Kohl Center
on the campus of the University of Wisconsin at Madison. The picture
zooms in on an official-looking sign posted in front that says
"Students
should find alternate sleeping arrangements effective immediately.
Unless
you're female and really really hot, and then you can come party in
Trey's Lounge and sleep with him tonight!" The intimidating bouncers on
each side of the doors help emphasize this message, and make judgment
calls as needed. The view pans up and down the building, displaying the
foam overflowing the second floor windows, the water slide that departs
from one end of the third floor, the blacklighted section of the fifth
floor, and of course, the not-suitable-for-children exploits going on
in
every other room of the building. The scene of utter chaos is
interrupted
by a familiar voice off to the side.]

TD: Please do not be surprised that my party is going on as scheduled.
That mistaken-identity-and-wrong-signature-on-the-Gold-Rush-contract
thing is being taken care of as we speak.

[The camera finally pulls itself away from the level of hedonism never
before seen on this midwest college campus. Instead, it focuses on the
20-year-old undefeated and soon-to-be legend of UWF, Trey DaMann. He is
proudly modeling his gold and black "Perfection Comes Naturally"
sweatshirt, which has now climbed to #2 in gross sales of hooded
wrestling apparel. He slowly takes off his Gucci sunglasses and folds
them into his black Armani slacks. The nearly-circumferential TRILLION
DOLLAR TREY DAMANN SMILE! is in full view for all to see, especially
the
lucky fans tuning in at home.]

TD: I, Trey DaMann, have every reason to be overjoyed. This little
contract mix-up is temporary, and absolutely will not get in the way of
my date with destiny and the UWF World Heavyweight championship at Gold
Rush. That said, I do appreciate the distraction that the Powers That
Wannabe provided for me tonight as a way of clearing my head from all
the
legal negotiating.

[And on the subject of distraction, there's nothing better than a pair
of
blonde, drunk, barely-eighteen, IV>
[The camera finally pulls itself away from the level of hedonism never
before seen on this midwest college campus. Instead, it focuses on the
20-year-old undefeated and soon-to-be legend of UWF, Trey DaMann. He is
proudly modeling his gold and black "Perfection Comes Naturally"
sweatshirt, which has now climbed to #2 in gross sales of hooded
wrestling apparel. He slowly takes off his Gucci sunglasses and folds
them into his black Armani slacks. The nearly-circumferential TRILLION
DOLLAR TREY DAMANN SMILE! is in full view for all to see, especially
the
lucky fans tuning in at home.]

TD: I, Trey DaMann, have every reason to be overjoyed. This little
contract mix-up is temporary, and absolutely will not get in the way of
my date with destiny and the UWF World Heavyweight championship at Gold
Rush. That said, I do appreciate the distraction that the Powers That
Wannabe provided for me tonight as a way of clearing my head from all
the
legal negotiating.

[And on the subject of distraction, there's nothing better than a pair
of
blonde, drunk, barely-eighteen, and barely-clothed co-eds going down
the
water slide in tandem. Oh, and they're twins! Even Trey stops for a
minute to look back and appreciate the breathtaking, wonderful, and
life-affirming moment.]

TD: Anyway, where was I? Oh, my match for tonight's Meltdown, or as I
like to call it, "Trey DaMann saves another UWF show with his presence
and undeniable natural talent, charisma, and dominance over this
sport."
I called ahead this week, rather than showing up and being surprised
because that has happened to me enough this week, and found out that I
will be facing some kind of "Pit Monster" or "[BLEEP] Monster" or
"Cookie
Monster" or something like that.

[Trey shrugs his shoulders, but then keeps on talking.]

TD: I'm guessing that the Powers That Wannabe felt bad about everything
that happened on the last Rampage. They shouldn't, because this will be
taken care of quite promptly, but they felt compelled to give me a
match
against some local rookie who's hoping that some ridiculous gimmickry
will be his claim to fame. Oooh, I'm a frightening monster!

[Trey starts shaking his hands and head in the air, in a half-assed
attempt to look remotely scary.]

TD: He's probably some 150 pound guy with too much hair and a dirty
rock
n' roll t-shirt with more holes than he has wins. He's being put in the
ring against me tonight to help me feel better about my current
circumstances.

[Another pair of twins, these being redheads, simultaneously go down
the
slide which is now covered entirely by whip cream. They end up
completely
covered in the white sticky substance.]

TD: But honestly, do I have anything to be upset about? Inevitable
domination of all that is UWF is coming very soon. Gold Rush to be
exact.
Now if you don't mind, being that I am in Wisconsin, I suddenly feel a
need to go get my FDA daily recommended servings of dairy. .

[Another shameless TRILLION DOLLAR TREY DAMANN SMILE! cues the fade to
black.]
__ __ _ _ _
| \/ |___| | |_ __| |_____ __ ___ _
.................| |\/| / -_) | _/ _' / _ \ V V / ' \.................
|_| |_\___|_|\__\__,_\___/\_/\_/|_||_|

SINGLES MATCH:
"The Pit Monster" Chad Grimsson versus Trey DaMann
........................................................................

[All the lights in the arena immediately shut off, with the exception
of
one solitary gold spotlight that focuses on the entranceway. A few
ear-piercing shrieks break the silence before a loud synthesizer chord
echoes throughout the building...the soon-to-be familiar first note of
"Lovin' Every Minute of It" by Loverboy. A continuous wall of gold
sparks
falls from the base of the Unitron to the floor as the music goes full
blast. Upon hearing the first words spoken in the song, the pyro ceases
and immediately visible is a large figure with his arms spread wide and
head tilted towards the sky. He is positively glowing as he emerges
from
the back and slowly lowers his head to reveal the trademarked TRILLION
DOLLAR TREY DAMANN SMILE!

Trey, wearing his stylish black and gold-streaked long tights and gold
"Perfection Comes Naturally" hooded sweatshirt, slowly makes his
journey
towards the ring. His confident blue eyes lead the way as he finally
enters the ring with the huge obnoxious grin that never left his face.
Trey makes his way over to the ring attendant who waits with a
microphone.]

TD: Come on out, lightweight! Why stretch this out any longer? You know
that you're only going to wind up being included in the gag reel of my
Best of Trey DaMann Holiday DVD Box Set, and that's IF this match can
go
a full ten seconds! Do you even have music to come out to?

[The opening riff to Biohazard's "Switchback" thunders over the PA as
Chad Grimsson steps out from the back. Dressed in a pair of ripped and
faded blue jeans, black leather chaps, black engineer boots, a black
"Slayer- Slaytanic Wehrmacht" sleeveless t-shirt, and finishing off
with
both fists wraped heavily in white tape, the man known as the Pit
Monster
makes his way towards the ring. Eyes burning with with intensity as he
stares right at Tre DaMann, Chad slaps hands with the fans on his way
down the aisle. As he gets to the ring, Chad steps over the top rope
and
makes his way over to Trey, glaring down at the smaller man.]

[Trey's eyes, which haven't really retracted back into his head, remain
on the huge "Pit Monster" Chad Grimsson. He slowly pulls the microphone
to his lips and speaks with a slight intimidation-induced quiver in his
voice.]

TD: Umm...of course you know I've had a terrible week, right? I was
supposed to be challenging for my World Heavyweight championship in the
main event of Gold Rush and that didn't quite happen according to plan.
And, um, I.....I really don't need this match right now. I've got stuff
outside the ring to get settled. Maybe we can do this some other
time....or maybe not because you're way bigger than I ever could have
thought. Umm....of course you know I am the next UWF World Heavyweight
champion......but that's if you don't kill me first. I'm from sunny and
beautiful Southern California....and these people just aren't really
deserving of me. Ummm....well....let's just not have this match
tonight.

[Chad now reaches out and snatches the microphone from Trey DaMann's
hand. He then looks down, ready to speak.]

Chad: DaMann, shut your [MEEP]ing mouth!

[HUGE POP!]

Chad: So let me get this straight. You want out of our match tonight,
huh?

[Trey takes a deep breath and finally starts to regain his composure.]

TD: If not for my sake, then for yours! You seem like a promising young
wrestler, with a bit of a future ahead of you. Sure, talking with me
right now will forever be the highlight of your career, but that
shouldn't discourage you from the impossible task of trying to reach my
level. Hell, you may even win a title right here in the UWF someday!
That
alone should stop you from making the BIG mistake of wrestling me
tonight
on Meltdown. You can walk to the back now, I won't be offended.

[Chad now moves angrily towards Trey, causing Trey to lose his
composure
once again, flinching backwards and slipping into the ropes which hold
him up.]

Chad: You just don't know when to cut your losses, do you? When to shut
your mouth and realize you've caught a break. Now this is your last
chance, DaMann. You've got five seconds to get your bitch ass out of
this
ring and up that entrance ramp, or I'm going to break that stack o'
dimes
neck of yours. We clear?

TD: Fine! I guess one of us has to be the bigger man. I'm going to be
doing YOU a favor by walking out of this ring. The next UWF World
Heavyweight champion does not need to take this from the likes of you.

[Trey throws his microphone to the floor in disgust, then begins to
walk
past Chad and towards the other side of the ring. He tries bumping his
shoulder hard into Chad as he passes by, but the Pit Monster doesn't
even
budge an inch. Trey gives Chad another shocked look as he continues
towards the apron, but then immediately spins around and charges.]

AW: Look out, here comes Trey!

[DaMann attempted to gain control with a chopblock before the bell, but
despite his best effort Chad bounced right back up looking quite pissed
off and began to throw Trey around the ring with reckless abandon.
Several suplexes and power tosses sent the silver spoon-sucking DaMann
to
the corner to try and regroup, but Chad wouldn't give him a chance to
recover after a running avalanche in the corner.

An eye gouge allowed DaMann to get control briefly, but Chad continued
to
control the match once Trey attempted to repeatedly pick up the Pit
Monster for a bodyslam and failed miserably. A huge clothesline almost
took DaMann's head off, and Chad again came close to getting the
pinfall
only for Trey to get a shoulder off the mat at the last second, and
then
as the match progressed started to use the ropes to break the count
instead. Trey, following a kick to the groin, began to work on Chad's
knees trying to wound the big man, and to take away his spinning full
nelson dragon suplex. But despite the pain, Chad went for it at the end
of the match and when his knee began to buckle, DaMann spun around free
of his grasp and blasted him with another groin kick, then drove him
into
the mat with a modified version of the Trillion Dollar DDT, half riding
Chad down with a scissorlock almost with a Yashimoto DDT. The crowd
gasped as DaMann scored the three count on Chad, but Trey didn't stick
around any longer than he had to as so not to face an angry Pit
Monster.]

DH: Here is your winner...

TREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYY DAMAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNN!

GH: DaMann squeaked by on that one, I'd like to see him try to defeat
Chad again.

AW: Well then it's too bad for you Howard, because this isn't a best
two
out of three. Trey continues to steamroll towards greatness.

GH: Please don't give him any more ideas for catchphrases.

[Cut to the office of one Becky Byers. Byers is currently sitting
behind
her desk. To say she doesn't look happy would be an understatement.

Pan over to one Stephanie Harper over on the right. Likewise, the lack
of happiness on her face.

And pan over to the left to find Donna Tetreault glaring. See a trend
here?]

DT: I just have to say--

BB: Shut it, Donna.

SH: Thank you. I'm not in the mood to be discussing anything else
except
what's set for Gold Rush.

DT: What's there to discuss? I got robbed of my rightful shot at the
title for Gold Rush! So unless this is some poor way to make up for it
by giving me front row seats, I'm not interested!

[Donna starts to rise from her chair.]

BB: Sit _down_.

[Donna pauses, the glare still on her face, but then sits back down.]

BB: You should be concerned about Gold Rush, Donna, because you will be
participating that night.

[Byers' eyes narrow thoughtfully.]

BB: You were told to watch yourself. Yet you repeatedly disgregarded
the rules. So, come Gold Rush, you will be facing Stephanie Harper...in
a rematch you might say SHE was entitled to.

DT: [exploding] WHAT?! Oh come on, that's bullshi--

SH: [interrupting] I think that's about all we need to hear from you,
Donna. Like it or not, I'm finally getting you in that ring again.

BB: And Donna, I remind you that you were also told to watch yourself
when Stephanie was the special referee for the match between Brian
McKenzie and Rick Marley. You got one more chance tonight and you blew
it. So it's official... you and Stephanie at Gold Rush.

DT: [deadpan] Whoopie. Next time, I'll singe a cat and just get a
wrist-slapping instead. Nice to see where your priorities really lie,
Becky. So I get to slap the soccer mom around again. That'll bring in
the ratings.

BB: [coolly] One other thing, Donna. Your match with Stephanie will be
under...

...Blind Stipulation Rules.

[And cue the shocked blink from Donna at that.]

SH: Well, how about that? Suddenly the woman who takes pride on
everything bastardly has nothing to say.

[Donna shoot Harper an ugly look before turning back to Byers.]

DT: Cute, Becks. You must be REALLY desperate to use an old gimmick
like that!

BB: One, you will address me as Ms. Byers. Two, I'm sure you're kicking
yourself for not remembering it first. And three, it wasn't my idea
actually.

DT: Then who--

[And slowly, the look of understanding hits Tetreault as turns to
Stephanie with a bug-eyed look of surprise.]

DT: --oh [MEEP]!

[And for the first time in this conversation, a smile forms on a
person's
face...

...namely Stephanie's.]

SH: Very good, Donna. I figured since you aspire to be like Simon
O'Neal
so much, it would be only fitting to pull something from his bag of
tricks.

Of course, this time it isn't you pulling the trick out. Tsk, tsk...
Simon would certainly be disappointed in you.

DT: Tou-che.

[Donna tries to compose herself as she draws in a few ragged breaths.]

DT: I guess you thinking like Simon is the only way to get Paulie in
the
mood these days. Tell me, did he get you a fedora and Ray-bans to wear
while you're in the sack together too?

[Stephanie's smile has now vanished, but she remains cool.]

SH: I'd be less concerned about things like that and more concerned
about
what you may have to prepare for... after all, I'm the only one who
knows
what will go down at Gold Rush.

So maybe you need to start thinking like Simon and figure things out
for
yourself.

DT: I know one thing he'd think...

[Donna looks Stephanie dead in the eyes, finally the hint of a smirk
creeping back up.]

DT: "...How does it feel to play dirty for a change?" You think you've
put one over on me with this? Baby, I'm BEYOND Simon now! You can't
even come close to thinking like him, let alone thinking like me!
You're
too much of a Girl Scout...

[Donna looks back at Byers.]

DT: If you have no other "surprises" for me, "Ms. Byers", I think I'll
be going now...

[And with that, Donna rises and confidentally exits...

...save for a slight buckle of the knees before she reaches the door.
Again, the former champ frantically composes herself before finally
leaving the office.]

SH: If she only knew...

BB: Knew about what?

SH: All I'm going to say is... you'll see. I promise you, though, that
it'll go a long way to getting Donna to fall in line.

[Becky looks a bit skeptical.]

BB: I hope you know what you are doing, Stephanie.

SH: No offense, Becky... but I'll worry about that.

BB: Fair enough.

[Fade out.]

GH: My god, a Blind Stipulations Match for Gold Rush between Donna and
Stephanie?!? What an idea!

AW: Me no likey. Bad medicine.
__ __ _ _ _
| \/ |___| | |_ __| |_____ __ ___ _
.................| |\/| / -_) | _/ _' / _ \ V V / ' \.................
|_| |_\___|_|\__\__,_\___/\_/\_/|_||_|

MELTDOWN MAIN EVENT, FOR THE NORTH AMERICAN HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP:
Papa Legba[c] versus Ethan De Sade versus Sabbath versus Rick Marley
........................................................................

[The fans cheered for just about everyone in this match, the lone
exception being Ethan De Sade who sneered as the crowd greeted him with

a
bevy of booing. The early part of the match saw his three opponents
trading off on planting him with punches, until Sabbath took him down
with a springboard missile dropkick. Legba had to break up the cover
though, to save his title and thus began an all out brawl between the
four wrestlers.

Marley was taken out of the match early as the Mercenary arrived at
ringside to take a front row seat, beginning to heckle him. But he
didn't arrive alone, he carried with him a large picture of Marley's
girlfriend, an obviously professionally done portrait ripped down the
side where Marley clearly was at one point. This angered Rick, who
after
a corkscrew splash onto Sabbath rolled out of the ring and came after
Merc, only to be nailed by surprise with an object Merc had concealed
beside him.]

GH: Oh god, what was that?

AW: From that smell of that thing, I think Merc took more than that
painting from Marley's place... I think he took one of those old
codger's
Depends too!

[Merc continued to pummel Marley at ringside with the now obvious
diaper,
as in the ring Sabbath had control of Legba with a exploder suplex only
to have EdS break up the cover. Popping back up, Sabbath kicked De Sade
in the leg and dropped him to a knee, allowing the Walking
Contradiction
to hit a triple jump off of De Sade onto Legba with a Shining Wizard!
Once more De Sade broke up the count though, and as Sabbath ran through
nearly his entire repertoire of suplexes on the son of Chris Douglas,
it
allowed Legba to return to his feet and stop Sabbath from hitting the
Coffin Breaker II. Grabbing the upside down EdS, Legba threw him across
his shoulders and then swung him like a baseball bat, his legs striking
Sabbath and sending him crashing to the outside and allowing Papa Legba
to plant De Sade with a death valley driver into the mat for the cover
and three count.]

DH: Here is your winner... AND STILL NORTH AMERICAN CHAMPION...

PAAAAAAAAAAPAAAAAAAAAAA LEGBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

GH: Legba keeps the title as the Mercenary is still pounding Rick
Marley
into the ground, with the portrait now! Wait, here comes security
now...
Merc threw that diaper at them!

AW: Well that'll hold them at bay long enough for a getaway.

[Merc fled into the crowd, dissapearing through the sea of people as
inside the ring, Legba held the championship belt up. Soon after,
Sabbath returned to the ring to shake Legba's hand as the crowd
cheered,
and security began to help Marley back to his feet.]

GH: Fans, that does it for us tonight here, please join us this weekend
for Saturday Night Rampage! We leave you tonight with some words from
Jason Keening, who teams with Miguel Quesada to face the formidable duo
of Frost and Augustine. Goodnight!

[The scene dissolves from black to an interior view of a small
community
center, filled nearly to capacity with young children seated in a
circle
around a familiar muscular figure that sits on a folding steel chair
and
smiles at his audience. The hall appears somewhat run-down and
dilapidated although a brightly colored sign on the back wall
proclaims:
"THE RED CLIFF BAND OF LAKE SUPERIOR CHIPPEWAS WELCOMES JASON KEENING".
For this is the powerfully built man the children are surrounding and
the
faces of his listeners mirror his Native American features. Keening is
in the middle of answering a question.]

JK: ...so while I've never gotten to meet Bobby Whitestar in person, I
think it's important that we celebrate all First Nations athletes and
celebrities. For the success of one of us reflects well on the whole
community while misdeeds and bad behavior also reflects badly on us.

[In the background, a trio of elders can be seen leaning against a wall
and nodding in agreement with the UWF wrestler's words. When Keening
finishes speaking, the children erupt in a loud chorus of cries for his
attention as a forest of hands stretches toward the ceiling above.
Keening's grin grows wider and he points to a little boy who stands up,
proudly wearing a Marcus Nuit "Uhhh..." hooded sweatshirt.]

Kid #1: Mr. Keening... why do you want to fight Alex Extreme so badly?
Isn't he one of the good guys?

[Keening's face darkens at the mention of Extreme's name but he remains
calm as he directs a polite smile at the boy.]

JK: No, son, he's not. I've known Alex Extreme for an awfully long
time... and in all that time, I've come to learn that he is one of the
worst men in professional wrestling that I've ever met. He is scum...
period.

[Keening pauses for a moment as he inhales deeply.]

JK: And that's why I want to fight him. That's all I've ever done
throughout most of my career is to go after guys who deserve to get
taken
down. To show them that you don't need to cheat or lie or steal in
order
to win. I've gotten to wrestle a lot of opponents but the one man that
I
want to beat more than anything else that I've ever done in my life...
is
Alex Extreme.

Kid #1: But what about Chris Douglas? Isn't he getting you to fight
Alex Extreme as a distraction? Shouldn't you be going after him
instead?

[The grim expression previously on Keening's face is replaced with a
wry
smile.]

JK: Yeah, I know that's exactly what he's doing. And Douglas isn't off
the hook either... neither is his son, Ethan de Sade. But even though
they're trying to manipulate us doesn't change the fact that I *WANT*
to
fight Alex Extreme. I want to *BEAT* Alex Extreme. Trust me, there's no
shortage of ignorant pukes in the UWF who aren't deserving of a good
beating. Douglas will get his turn.

[The boy smiles back at Keening and sits down as the rest of the
children
yell for attention and raise their hands in the air. Keening points to
a
little girl in a red sweater who bounds to her feet and grins.]

Kid #2: Aren't you going to fight Michael Augustine and Victor Frost
next down in Milwaukee?

[Keening nods.]

JK: Yup. And speaking of ignorant pukes in need of a beating, those two
definitely qualify.

[The girl continues.]

Kid #2: Didn't Augustine once call you and your brother "redskins"?

[An angry hush falls across the room.]

JK: Yes, he did. Interestingly enough, while in a conversation with
Alex Extreme. Which proves my point that there's lots of people in the
UWF who need to be taken down a notch. I haven't forgotten that
Augustine wrapped a chair around my head to help the Drakes win the
World Tag titles from Michael and me. And I haven't forgotten the way
Victor Frost had to cheat his way to a tainted victory to keep me from
taking the North American title from him. Trust me, they'll both have
a lot to answer for when I step into the ring with them.

[Before the girl can sit down and hands be raised once more, a boy from
the back of the room yells out another question.]

Kid #3: Who's your tag partner? I don't know this Miguel Quesada guy
very well.

JK: I don't know a lot about him either except for what my brother's
told me about him when he used to work for the WWO. I know he's got
some
trouble with Tumaffi lately but I hope he can focus on our opponents
and
wrestle a good match. We'll just have to see how it goes.

[One of the elders at the back of the room steps forward and raises his
hands as the children continue to call out more questions.]

Elder #1: All right. All right, kids. We have to wrap up with the
questions now as Mr. Keening here has to head out to get ready for his
wrestling matches. But before he does, he has agreed to sign a few
autographs so get your pens and paper ready.

[The children surge to their feet and crowd around Keening as he rises
from his seat and begins to scrawl his name across outstretched pieces
of paper. As the scene dissolves to black, "Your Time Has Come" by
Audioslave begins playing in the background for a moment before fading
away.]