<UWF> Meltdown 8-3-05

[Cygnia]

[Cut to a backstage scene, with the words "EARLIER TODAY" digitally
plastered over it. The UWF World Champion, Scott "Hotspot" Daniels is
leaning against a wall, next to a door frame. He is wearing a Pride
hoodie (now available) and blue jeans. His hair is tied back in a
ponytail. Daniels glances at his watch, looking quite unimpressed. A
few moments more, and the door swings open. In walks the one person
fans
have been waiting nine years to see compete, UWF's true second
generation superstar. Samantha Daniels steps through the door wearing
hip hugging blue jeans and a white zipper sweater, with a black tanktop
underneath. She doesn't look the part of UWF's "newest diva". She just
looks like your average eighteen year old girl, who happens to be
wheeling a suitcased filled with various wrestling paraphernalia,
behind her. She doesn't even notice her father behind her as she
walks.]

SD: You're late.

[Samantha stops in her tracks. Her eyes roll as she slowly turns and
faces her father.]

SD: It's only three thirty.

SD: Check in time is three o'clock. Don't you think I have more
important
things to worry about like Alex Martinez, than wondering where you are?
You know, most wrestlers who are late usually get a fine Samantha.
Especially on the night you debut. You're going to have to be a lot
more
responsible if you want to make it here Samantha.

[The look of teenage angst is obvious on her face.]

SD: Okay, can we put stop to this? I am an adult now, and I can make my
own decissions, and I'm responsible for my own actions. I appreciate
your
assistance, and I understand that you're just looking out for my well
being... But Dad. Don't. It's not necessary. I want to do things on my
own here, and that includes making my own mistakes.

SD: Like firing your lawyer, Mr. Calnan? You know that bastard charged
me
a fortune for that.

SD: I'm serious Dad. Outside this arena, I may be your daughter. But
when
we're in here, I want to be treated just like anyone else. Okay?

[Daniels smirks. ... what do you mean which one? Scott!]

SD: You know Samantha, I knew you'd say that. You've always been cursed
with your mother's independence streak.

[Hotspot runs a hand through his greasy hair.]

SD: It pains me to say it, but you are right.

SD: I am?

SD: Yes. I can't expect you to launch your career if you have me
watching
over you twenty four-seven. And I have too much on my plate right and
worrying about you is something I just can't deal with.

KS: And that's why he called me in.

[The camera pulls back, and shows that the Daniels' have been joined by
Kari Stevens. She is all smiles.]

SD: Huh?

KS: It's simple Samantha. Your father asked if I could do him a favor.
You see, he's a busy man, concerned with his own career as champion. He
asked me to take you under my wing. I know he trained you well, but I
can
add to your training. I can plan strategies for defeating the other
women
in the division and, most importantly, I can make a lady out of you.

[Samantha glares at her father.]

KS: Your father is a great man, but unfortunately, you do not have a
positive female role model in your life. I am going to be that role
model. I will make sure you know exactly how to look and act in every
situation you can think of and many you can't. I can make sure you are
appropriately dressed for every situation. Judging by your current
clothes, makeup and hairstyle; we have a lot of work to do.

[Samantha can't believe what she just heard. She looks over to her
father, who conviniently is looking the other direction.]

KS: All right then Samantha, I can just tell we're going to have a lot
of
fun. Now, let's get going and get you ready for your big match tonight.

[Kari walks off in the direction of the locker rooms, thinking Samantha
Daniels is following behind her. However, the young rookie is still
staring in disbelief at her father. He finally glances back over to
her.]

SD: What?

[Samantha just glares at her father, not the least impressed with his
choice of chaperones. Samantha grabs a hold of her luggage and slowly
makes her way after Stevens, leaving the World champion by himself.
Dissolve into the opening credits for Meltdown, as "Remedy" by Seether
plays.]
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August 3rd, 2005 - Air Canada Centre - Toronto, ON

[Dissolve in through the graphics as the music fades out slowly,
bringing
us into the wide expanse that is the Air Canada Centre, from Toronto,
Ontario, Canada. The near capacity crowd rumbles and roars as the
ringposts shoot flames up into the air while flashy pyrotechnics
explode
over the ringside area and up by the entrance portal. 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 red UWF golf shirt and Amanda dressed in a black
miniskirt and a white baby tee.]

GH: Good evening everybody, welcome to UWF Meltdown! I'm Greg Howard,
and joining me is the one and only Amanda Wells for what promises to be

a
huge night in Meltdown history! We've got several tremendous contests
lined up here, including an eight man eliminations match with teams
captained by North American Champion Papa Legba and "Agony" Michael
Augustine!

AW: We're back in Toronto, the home of this company, and where else
would
it be fitting to have a show with a lineup this big? Alex Martinez and
Daniel Kidd. Trey DaMann teaming up with the Hands of Death. Hotspot's
daughter making her debut. My boy Vic!

GH: This really should be a spectacular edition of Meltdown tonight,
with
this being one of the last stops before Gold Rush everyone is looking
to
gain last minute momentum. But tonight we'll begin with the first
in-ring action for Samantha Daniels, the daughter of our current World
Champion, Scott "Hotspot" Daniels.

AW: And showing just what sort of a caring father he is, Scott has
found
Samantha one of the best wrestling coaches and managers in the world!
He
really, truly cares about his precious baby girl.

GH: Enough to hit her with the Pride Breaker if it meant the world
title,
at least.

AW: Why can't you let that go?

[Cut back to the place of many a man's wildest dreams... The UWF
Women's
locker room. Inside is The Wind Walkers, Alicia Powers and "Tornado"
Tara
Smith. They are standing, talking amongst each other.]

TTS: I cannot wait until Saturday Night! Lisa will make a great partner
and, while I usually dislike the rules being broken, I'm not going to
tell Lisa that she should stick by the rules. The Fraud Squad deserves
whatever they get. They still don't have a partner and DeWolfe is
running
out of people to ask. I hope he has to get in the ring himself.

AP: Well, we know what's in store for DeWolfe on Rampage. I can't wait.

SD: Okay... How is this?

[Alicia and Tara turn and smile. The camera pulls back to reveal
Samantha
Daniels, suited up in ring gear and ready to compete. She is wearing a
lime green tank top and well worn brown gym shorts. She has on black
wrestling boots and knee and elbow pads. Her curly brown hair has been
tied back in a pony tail.]

AP: I'd say it looks like you're just about all set.

[Samantha blushes and steps closer to the Wind Walkers.]

TTS: Welcome to the UWF Samantha. This is a big night for you. I
remember
the night I made my wrestling debut. I was very nervous about how I'd
do
in front of a live crowd. Are you nervous tonight?

SD: Uhh... well... Kinda. I mean, I know what's in store for me... And
like... Dad and Uncle Brett trained me really well.

[Powers and Smith smile and laugh.]

AP: Uncle Brett. That's cute.

TTS: I'm sure he likes being called that.

SD: Huh?

AP: Oh nothing Samantha. Tara's just teasing.

SD: Right.

[Samantha smiles back.]

SD: Anyway. I feel... good. I think.

AP: Well, don't let the people get to you if they let you hear it for
being related to your father. You just do your thing, and try as hard
as
you can.

TTS: Like I said, I was nervous the night I made my debut, but I made
it
through. Just relax. You'll do fine.

KS: What is going on here?

[The camera pulls back as the ladies turn and find Kari Stevens walking
right up to them.]

AP: Oh, hello Kari.

KS: [In a mock voice] Oh hello Kari.

[Powers rolls her eyes.]

KS: Would you ladies mind not talking to Samantha right now? She has a
big match tonight and the less advice she gets from losers, the better.

["Tornado" Tara Smith grits her teeth and steps up to Stevens.]

TTS: Excuse me Kari? Just what did you call us?

[Alicia steps in and stops Tara from advancing.]

AP: Calm down Tara. We don't want to mess with Pride business, do we?

KS: No, you don't want to mess with Pride business, four eyes. If I
were
you. I'd consider getting contacts, or better yet, Lasik and losing
those
stupid Coke bottles.

[Powers adjusts her spectacles and sneers at Stevens. Now it's Tara
holding back Alicia.]

TTS: All right, we'll go. Good luck tonight Samantha. Don't listen to a
word she tells you.

AP: And remember Samantha... Have fun!

[The Wind Walkers step away from the twosome. Stevens stares down Smith
and Powers until they are out of sight. Only then does she turn and
face
the younger Daniels.]

KS: Now then, we don't have a lot of time left. We... dear God, what
are
you wearing?

SD: My ring gear!

[Kari points up and down at Samantha, with a look of disgust.]

KS: *THAT* is your ring gear?

SD: Well... yes.

KS: Oh count your blessings that your father asked me to look after
you.

[Stevens turns and dips into the bag at her feet. Samantha doesn't look
too impressed.]

SD: What is that supposed to mean?

[Stevens rises, holding up a red mini skirt and a matching top.]

SD: What is that?

KS: Lucky for you, I was prepared for your lack of fashion sense. I had
these custom made for you by the finest designers in the business. It's
your new ring gear.

[Kari hands it over to Samantha, who reluctantly takes it and holds it
up to her. She can't believe it, and let's just say, she's not looking
too thrilled.]

SD: Gee, I love it.

KS: Of course you love it! Now hurry up and put it on. You have a match
in a few minutes. Also, make sure to put some makeup on. You need to
look
good for the crowd and especially the cameras. You need to do something
about that hair, but unfortunately it may be too late now. I'll let it
slide this time, but next time I'll make sure to have a professional
makeup artist and hair stylist work with you. You need not worry about
the expense. I'll take care of everything. Believe me, only the best
will
suffice.

[Samantha lets out a sigh as she disapears through a door marked Change
Room. Stevens stands with her hands on her hips.]

KS: This may be a bit more difficult than I thought. She's a stubborn
girl, but soon she'll realize I only have her best interests at heart.
She should at least thank me that I took time I could have used to
prepare for my match with Harper tonight. On the other hand, it's not
like I have to be prepared to defeat a Sun Belt Angel. It just comes
naturally.

[Kari smiles and walks over to her changing area as the camera fades.]

AW: It's paying off already, Kari Stevens is going to mold and shape
Samantha Daniels into a wrestling machine. Worthy of the name Daniels.

GH: Silly me, I thought being born was enough to 'deserve' the last
name
Daniels.

AW: C'mon Greg, this isn't some gutter name like Keening or Kidd. She's
a Daniels, dammit!
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DEBUT:
Samantha Daniels versus Fantasy Girl
........................................................................

[Fantasy Girl, returning from injury and an extended tour over in
Japan,
rushed down to the ring first to a surprised pop from the crowd,
carrying
the Beauty Angels: Japan Skyweight Championship belt on her shoulder.
She propelled herself into the ring with a slingshot to the second
turnbuckle and hit a backflip, landing steadily near the center of the
ring. Then as Beck's "E-Pro" hit the PA system, Samantha Daniels
entered
the building to a receptive crowd, cheering the youth on as she came
out
dressed in the miniskirt and matching top and seconded by Kari Stevens.

Samantha walked slowly down to ringside, looking very uncomfortable in
the non-traditional gear, and stepped through the ropes very carefully.
Fantasy Girl approached her and offered a handshake, which Samantha
accepted despite Kari's orders to ignore "the masked freak". The match
began with a simple lock-up, and Samantha initially displayed a bit of
unsteadiness as Fantasy Girl was able to take her to the mat with a
legsweep. After the first kickout, Samantha began to get into a
groove, dodging some of FG's quickest moves and surprising her opponent
with a sidestep into a drop toe-hold, and quickly caught the masked
wrestler with an Oklahoma side roll into a near pinfall of her own.
Kari
applauded and kept shouting orders and instructions, which only served
to
confuse Samantha as Fantasy Girl took her off her feet with a snapping
armdrag takeover.

The crowd remained on the side of both women as they traded
increasingly
risky moves, booed only when Stevens tried to get involved. A trip off
of Fantasy Girl bouncing off the ropes drew jeers and a warning from
the
referee, and Samantha glared at her cornerwoman only to walk into a
tilt-a-whirl slam into the mat. Daniels rolled away from an attempted
moonsault by Fantasy Girl and began to pull her up for a reverse
neckbreaker, then quickly hooked a leg for another near-pinfall. But as
she did, Fantasy Girl quickly turned the tide and rolled Samantha over
into a cradle, and after the escape they both returned to their feet
and
the masked female was a step quicker, catching Samantha with a backfist
and doubled her up to hit the Fantasy Bomb. As a last-ditch effort Kari
grabbed Samantha's leg and placed it on the bottom rope, but the
official
warned Stevens once again about interfering and with a hook of the leg,
counted to three on Daniels.]

DH: Here is your winner... FAAAAAAANTASSSYYYYY GIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRLLLLL!

GH: So Samantha Daniels begins her wrestling career with a loss, but
considering this was her first match I think she did pretty well in
there.

AW: Daddy's not going to be happy with "pretty well". Kari sure as hell
isn't.

GH: Oh come on, you can't expect her to be a natural from day one!
Everyone needs time to learn their craft, Stevens needs to lighten up
here.

[Bright headlights pierce the darkness at a bus stop, a quarter of a
kilometer from the Air Canada Centre. A moment passes before the bus
pulls away from the curb, leaving behind a lone figure carrying what
appears to be a medium size duffel bag over its left shoulder. The
individual walks along the sidewalk leading to the arena in the
background, and stops as he reaches a streetlight...

And soon, the light illuminates the cold look on the face of "War
Machine" Corey Irons.]

CI: They say it's strange how things don't always work themselves out
in
the end. They say that life can often bite you in the ass if you're not
careful. They say it's a cruel world out there, and how our sport often
abides by the unwritten rule known as survival of the fittest. Well...

"They..." say a lot of things, don't they?

[He pauses for a moment, and leans a hand on the streetlight pole to
his
left.]

CI: They say that a deal is a deal, and that once you sign your name to
something, that there's no turning back. For us, it means to fulfill
one's duty in the ring from one bell to the next, and pray that you're
alive to sign the dotted line for the next fight.

And really, they say there's _no_ _way_ out of that.

[As the camera zooms in, he lowers his eyes, and the sides of his lips
curl into a smirk.]

CI: But "they..." say a lot of things, don't they?

Heh heh, there's _always_ a way out.

You listenin' yet, Trey?

[He removes his hand from the side of the lightpole, then places both
hands on his sides.]

CI: Though it may surprise you, Trey, I can be a reasonable man. See, I
know just how badly you want out of our little dance at Gold Rush. But
see, being bound by contract, you've been given little choice but to
show
up... dragged to the ring by officials and security if you must.

Then again... there _are_ alternatives.

Like I said, there's always a way out. But no, I'm not talking about
the
multiple options you listed to me the last time you embarrassed
yourself
in front of a camera on Rampage. So let me put it to you like this...
you want out so badly?

Fine by me.

[He pauses momentarily, presumably allowing viewers worldwide to widen
their eyes in shock as it seems that he has agreed to Trey's terms.

Good thing he's not finished just yet.]

CI: But if we do this, we do this on _my_ terms.

Tonight, you get the chance to team with two individuals who are
revered
as being among the UWF's finest. But more importantly, tonight you get
your first crack at the wounded "War Machine" you claim to be way the
hell past his prime...

Which leads me to _your_ options...

[He slowly begins to pace, his unblinking eyes never leaving the
camera.]

CI: Or rather, your one and only option, I should say. See, you want
out
of this match so badly, that I've decided to give you the chance. That
being said, the _only_ way out of this little situation we're in...

...is by making sure I don't even make it to Gold Rush.

Simple enough task, right?

[Once again, he just smirks.]

CI: Heh heh... if only it were so.

To get what you want, I'm asking you to get things done in the ring
_tonight_. I'm asking you to _prove_ what you claim to be capable of,
as
opposed to simply stating it one week after another. You think my best
years either never happened, or are past me already?

Then break my bones... _tonight_.

You claim to be on a far superior level, while I'm to be stuck in
mediocrity for the rest of my career?

Then bleed my body dry... _tonight_.

You believe you're destined for glory, while I'm to be overlooked as
even
being a contender?

Then break my freakin' skull open, then make sure I never get back up
off
that canvas...

And for your own sake, do it _tonight_.

[He stops pacing, and crosses his arms.]

CI: So spare me your rambling, Trey, and hope that this next match puts
me in a coma.

But if it doesn't, then you mark my words... I'll tear your body to
shreds.

But more importantly... I'll make your Gold Rush experience _hell_.

And the only thing "they" will have left to say about your future, is
this...

Early retirement.

[With that, he nods at the camera, then turns and makes his way towards
the arena.]

AW: Irons doesn't have a clue what he's started. He thinks he's the
biggest thing to hit this company? Hah! Trey DaMann has had more
success, more money, more big matches than Irons ever has.

GH: You just like talking to listen to yourself, right? We'll see what
the two of them can do a little later tonight, when they team up
respectively with the Hands of Death and Sons of Cacophony in a big six
man tag match. But first there's a singles match coming up, as Shadoe
Rage and Ravnos Romani look to try and settle this longstanding fued
between the Prophets of Rage and the Amazing Romanis. Here are comments
from both sides.

[Fade in:

Shadoe Rage seems to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Here he
is,
on camera, about to get his hands on his enemy, and it already looks
like
he's too far gone to even have the most basic of gameplans. He is
shaking, he is snarling, he is pacing in tight circles. His face
twitches. The cords on his neck stand out. His teeth are bared.]

SR: Romani, tonight I want you to know something. Tonight you don't go
home. If you're lucky you go to a hospital. Kiss your wife, kiss your
babies, say goodbye to them because I'm leaving your family widowed and
orphaned. Ravnos, I wanted nothing to do with you. Nothing. I didn't
care about you. All I cared about was the Hands of Death. But you had
to get jealous just like a little stinkin bitch. You got upset because
you felt ignored. Well, you have my attention now. You have it, don't
you. AND YOU AIN'T GONNA LIKE IT! I'm gonna keep this short and sweet
and to the damn point, Ravnos. What I did to Vyolence is nothing
compared to what I'm going to do to you. You cost me my chance at
revenge at Annis. You cost me my chance at settling the score. Now that
means I have two scores to settle. Don't worry about your title reign.
It ends tonight. You won't make it to Gold Rush. You think you want to
play games. All you're doing is striking matches around a tanker of
gasoline. And that tanker is gonna explode.

[He stops, rubbing his head as if he burst a blood vessel.]

SR: Bring all your tricks, bring all your gimmicks. The games stop
here.
No more games. No more fooling around. Tonight, Ravnos, you die!
Simple as that. You die. And Shadoe Rage sends you to Hell!

[Fade out.

The camera cuts to... well, apparently nothing. Just black. As it pulls
back a bit, however, we see that it was actually zoomed in for a
close-up; but when the subject of your close-up is the faceless visage
of
Vyolynce, seemingly in some sort of medatative pose or maybe trance,
well, let's just say that it probably wasn't the brightest decision. As
he kneels in introspective silence, two other individuals cautiously
approach. The pair of North American Championship belts around their
waists doesn't leave much room for speculation.]

RR: I -- that is, *we* just wanted to thank you for last time. I know
we're not the _kumpania_ we used to be, but we appreciate you letting
us
toy with the Prophets like that.

NR: Yeah... uh, sorry about the way that ended. I see you're back at a
hundred percent, though?

[Slowly, as if being pulled by an unseen string, Vyolynce's head pivots
toward Niklos and fixes a void-like stare in his direction. After
taking
a half-step back without really being aware of it, Niklos flashes a
look
at his brother, who just sort of shrugs before continuing.]

RR: Rrrrrrright. Well, I'm sure Underwood will provide a more
productive
way to channel that agression than, say, lashing out against two of the
only people willing to have your back in this asylum.

NR: Underwood... How unlucky was that _dilo_ that his big match back is
against you, of all people? Back to the hospital with him, and good
riddance. Maybe this time he won't come back.

[Vyolynce's focus returns to wherever it had been a few minutes
earlier.
Other than the occasional breath, one would wonder if he were even
alive.]

RR: You know, this "silent treatment" is kinda getting old.

NR: No kidding. I mean, we agree that there's *waaaaaaay* too much
blabing going on around here lately. Hell, Underwood is one of those
guys
who never seems able to shut up. And we all know about the real-world
LiveJournal rants that we get treated to whenever the Prophets get near

a
mic. Pride, the Frats, those _dilos_ DaMann and Nuit... it's a wonder
there's any time for wrestling around here.

RR: But come *on*, man. Say *something*. You haven't spoken in like a
month.

[Reaching on the floor in front of him, Vyolynce picks up his trademark
mirrored visor and straps it on to his head. After a few adjustments,
he
pulls up the hood of his robe and continues his silent vigil.]

NR: Nothing? You're just going to let that stubble-wearing _sheka_ say
whatever he wants? And you know he will. He'll just ramble on and on
and
on, "Savior" this and "Chosen One" that.

RR: Plus you kow the Illuminati are going to be out for his head --
again. Now I'd like to lend a hand, you know, return the favor from a
couple weeks ago, but I have to deal with Shadoe Rage... plus in all
probablity Derek Rage, the Misfits, the creatures of the night, and if
I'm really unlucky, the entire cast of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

NR: Fortunately the 82nd Airborne is busy overseas. But you see why I
can't watch your back either. And we all know that Angel is busy
meeting
with the Kindred for their match on Rampage.

RR: What we're saiyng is... you're on your own tonight, V.

[I one seamless motion, Vyolynce rises from his knees, adjusts his robe
on final time, and calmly strides out of the room, leaving the Romanis
staring at each other in bewilderment as they watch him head out.]

NR: ...which I guess... is the way he wants it.

RR: Well, we can't worry about him. I have to take down Lurch tonight.

NR: You got a plan, _prala_?

[Now it's Ravnos's turn to remain silent. He merely turns to his
brother
and cocks an eyebrow as if to say "You know better than that."]

NR: Ok, ok. Fill me in.

[But not on camera, as the NA Tag Champs head out without saying
another
word.]
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SINGLES MATCH:
Ravnos Romani versus Shadoe Rage
........................................................................

[Shadoe Rage came down to ringside first, surprisingly without the rest
of his entourage for a change and to a mixed reaction. Equally mixed
was
the response for Ravnos, who came down with Niklos but made sure that
his
younger brother stayed far enough away from the ring, too far to
intervene. The bell rang as Shadoe jumped Ravnos and stripped the title
belt from his waist, tossing it over the ropes and immediately pounding
on the smaller man with a series of sledgehammer shots to the back
before
slamming him upside down in the corner.

Ravnos avoided a running charge by pulling himself upright and exiting
to
the apron, then a headbutt caught Shadoe and left him staggering, only
for Rage to catch Ravnos with a vicious powerslam back into the ring.
Ravnos attempted to get back in the match with some traditional
wrestling
(and the odd kick to the groin or two), but Shadoe outmatched him and
snapped his neck off the top rope with a springy stun gun. A running
inverted atomic drop was enough to send Ravnos to the floor with a
clothesline, but Shadoe's kamikaze style nearly did himself in with a
charging tope that sent him ribcage-first into the dasher boards
instead.

Both men crawled back into the ring, hurting, and Ravnos set up for the
'Cat Got Your Tongue?', flipping Shadoe to the mat with the mandible
claw
applied but when Rage began to bite down on Ravnos the referee was
forced
to separate them. Ravnos caught Shadoe flush in the face with a boot,
but off the ropes he was suddenly and rudely nailed with a jumping
lariat, as the PoR member dragged Ravnos to the corner and hit an Asai
moonsault kneedrop right into his chest. Gasping for breath, Ravnos
rolled out to the floor but Shadoe came right after him, slamming
Ravnos
headfirst into the steps and laying him across them, jumping up onto
the
apron and trying another kneedrop only to come crashing down painfully
across the steel before tumbling to the floor.

Ravnos, seizing the opportunity, rolled Shadoe under the ropes again.
And with the referee at an odd position and unable to see, another kick
to the groin before pushing him all the way into the ring drew loud
cheers from the crowd. Ravnos climbed into the ring and set up for a
slingshot German suplex, but Shadoe unleashed a quick series of closed
fists to the forehead that caused Ravnos to drop him and Shadoe landed
on
top. For the next few minutes, Shadoe turned the match into a simple
mauling, wrapping his hands around Ravnos' throat whenever he could.
Around this time is when Niklos began to slowly approach the ring, and
as
Shadoe bounced off the ropes went for a trip, missing but enough to
catch
the attention of everyone in the ring. As Rage as well as the referee
turned towards him, Ravnos came up from behind and unleashed a MIGHTY
nutshot on Shadoe.

The referee, turning around and sees Ravnos returning to his feet, now
misses as Niklos approaches the side of the ring and leans in, as poor
Shadoe absorbs ANOTHER shot to the gonads. This is all Ravnos needs as
he leapfrogs up into the air and drives himself down onto Shadoe with a
double kneedrop spike into the mat! The 'Dance of Knives' scores the
pinfall as the crowd explodes, and Ravnos rolls quickly from the ring
as
Shadoe takes a few minutes to sit up, looking the entire time as if
he's
about ready to explode! Derek and Marissa come down to ringside and
eventually manage to calm him down.]

DH: Here is your winner... RRRRRRRAVNOOOOOOOOSSSS ROMANNNNNIIIIIIII!

GH: If that match is any indication of Gold Rush, their tag team
contest
should be an absolute war. Neither side seems worried about breaking
the
rules or playing by them, I think it'll come down more to whoever's
left
to cheat one more time.

AW: I'm not a guy, but even I thought the end of that match was
unconscionably evil.

GH: Well let's just say I hope there are icepacks awaiting Shadoe Rage
in
the locker room.

AW: And some prozac.

[The scene fades backstage to Kari Stevens. Kari is still in her
wrestling attire, a black sports bra, black hot pants and black
wrestling
boots with kicking pads. Suddenly, the camera catches a glimpse of
"Alluring" Arielle Starr as she storms towards her, glaring angrily.
Arielle wears a black, halter dress and heels, her blonde hair falling
straight down her back. She grabs Kari by the arm and spins her around,
forcing them face to face.]

AAS: You're just the spoiled, little witch I was looking for.

KS: Well if it isn't Arielle Starr? What do you want? Let me guess, you
want Trevor's home address and phone number now that he's no longer in
UWF, or is there another Pridesman you want to stalk? Who is your
latest
crush? Is it Scott? Derek? Dan?

AAS: Oh, cut it out, Kari. You know exactly why I'm here. It isn't bad
enough that you've tried to destroy my reputation with your little
lies.
Now, you've gone after Stephanie again too!

[Arielle folds her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowed angrily.]

AAS: I really shouldn't be surprised that you'd do something as sneaky
and underhanded as taking advantage of Steph, after that sneak attack.
It's exactly the type of behavior that a lying opportunist like you
would
do. I just want you to know that you're not getting away with it. You
are going to pay, even if I have to drag you into the ring and beat you
myself!

KS: Stephanie? What makes you think I would sneak attack Stephanie? I
already know I can beat you Sun Belt Angels without any help. Besides,
give it some thought. Even if I wanted to sneak attack Stephanie, when
would I have the time? Not only did I have to make myself ready for my
match, I had to make young Samantha Daniels ready for hers. Do you
realize the amount of work that took? You should have seen what she
originally planned to wear to the ring. She's very lucky I was able to
make her look presentable.

AAS: Even if you are as "innocent" as you claim, you sure didn't waste
any time in capitalizing on what happened. You're just a...

[Suddenly, Arielle is struck from behind by somebody's extended leg to
the back of her head...

...and as Arielle falls, into the picture appears the person who was
responsible for the attack, Amazing Grace.]

Grace: That should teach not only to keep your nose out of Kari's
business, but mine as well!

[As Arielle struggles to her feet, Grace drags her up roughly, pulling
Arielle's arms behind her.]

Grace: Kari, I take it you'd like to emphasize that?

KS: Arielle, you made a false assumption about me tonight. When I gave
you the facts, you were all, "Don't confuse me with facts. I've already
made up my mind." Well remember what happens when you assume?

[Kari then slaps Arielle across the face and delivers a boot to the
midsection.

But then, Leslie flies into frame, delivering a standing drop kick to
Grace's head. Grace falls forward, releasing Arielle. Leslie straddles
Grace and starts raining blows on her with Spanish insults.

Finally freed, Arielle kicks off her heels, charges Kari, and spears
her,
driving Stevens back first into the wall. She lashes out with a kick,
catching Kari in the stomach, and then follows with a back elbow to
Stevens' head. Arielle backs back, glaring at Kari hatefully.]

LESLIE: Double-teaming, Grace? I thought someone of your "wrestling
calibre" was above that.

[Leslie and Arielle then stand, side by side, on guard as Grace and
Kari
stagger away, the two looking up at their rivals and glaring.]

Grace: All right, ring rat, you want to keep this up? Fine by me! I'm
sure Kari will have no problem teaming with me to teach both of you a
lesson at Gold Rush!

KS: Kiddo, you messed with the wrong people! I'm more than willing to
help Grace teach you and the Annoying Airhead a lesson that neither of
you will forget!

LH: Bring it, _perra_! I'll be more than happy to lay a Gypsy Curse on
you.

AAS: I'm with you, Leslie. It's about time someone taught these two a
lesson.

[As Grace and Kari walk off, Arielle turns to face Leslie.]

AAS: Thank you, Leslie. If you hadn't come along, I don't know what
those
two would have tried to do.

LH: Don't mention it. Getting a cheap shot on Grace was its own reward.

AAS: Well, I'd better get going. Thanks again and I'll see you at Gold
Rush.

[Arielle pauses and smiles before extending her hand.]

AAS: Partner.

[The two women shake as the scene fades to black.]

GH: Wow, Kari Stevens just can't seem to stay out of people's business
this evening. But we've just had another match added to Gold Rush, it
would seem! Arielle Starr teaming up with Leslie Hernandez to face Kari
Stevens and Amazing Grace!

AW: Seems like little more than a clinic for Grace and Kari.

GH: Well if anyone would know about clinics...

AW: Shut it!

[It's a sunny afternoon on Yonge Street.

And over at the Brownstone Bistro, some people take advantage of the
nice
weather to sit at the patio and people-watch.

It goes both ways. While a couple can casually sit, enjoying their
martinis and a pizza margherita and look at the pedestrians going by,
they too can be stared at in return. If you're a person of some fame...
or notoriety, there's a certain pressure on you, to act in one
particular
way.

"Are you what we've seen before?"
"Are you for real now?"
"Just what are you trying to be?"

It's never spoken, but you feel it all the while. So, forgive the
people
if they stare perhaps too long, waiting to see if this is a mask
waiting
to slip, that all the talk of wanting to change for the better is just
talk. As they ogle the woman next to you and pester you both for
autographs, they hope for a little spectacle.

And you don't know if they're relieved or disappointed as you just
patiently answer their questions about not being as "bigger" as you
seem
on TV and how you feel about that stupid bird and your partner (They
always ask about the bird, the partner every once in a while). You even
smile once in a while, which helps deal with the tension when they ask
about her...

...but she's an old pro with the fans, knowing how to dissuade them if
they get too personal. And a grunt and a glare from you and it's par
for
the course, just part of the show.

Feels like old times again. Feels too easy to let your temper rise.

But then she smiles and squeezes your knee under the table.]

VSU: Thank you.

BONN: ...anytime...

[And that makes it all worthwhile.

Cut to the backstage area, where an agitated Tom Landis is pacing back
and forth in his wrestling gear. After a few seconds of being lost
inside his own head, Landis stops suddenly as a familiar face stands in
front of him, with a questioning look on her face.]

Brianna Landis: Problem, big brother?

[Landis stops, and while his expression changes from a snarl, it
doesn't
go all the way towards a smile.]

Tom Landis: Nothing I can't take care of, Bri. Nightwing tonight, and-

BL: Nighthawk.

TL: What?

BL: Nighthawk. You've got the _nighthawk_ tonight, not Nightwing.

TL: Oh right. Nightwing's really Dick Grayson, Nighthawk's the guy
who's
partner brings a dick with him wherever he goes.

BL: Cock... well, rooster. Whatever. What's got you in a surly mood
like this, it can't be the match with Bonn.

TL: Eh, it's a lot of things. Dan and I already beat the cock n' hawk
once, what more is to be gained from kicking Bonn's ass again? Plus
Dan's got to go against Martinez tonight, and that seven foot bastard's
aiming to put my tag team partner in the hospital. Oh, and then there's
Borders, the constant little gnat that he is.

BL: I'm still kinda floored that you let him make the rules up for your
match at Gold Rush. Why did you do that, it's just opening the door up
for a world of trouble.

TL: That's assuming he can even come up with anything. It takes a
certain amount of brain cells to name a type of match, and all those
times I dropped him on his head or broke the crutches over his skull I
think I killed most of those brain cells.

[Landis chuckles; his sister doesn't seem to agree and continues to
have
a worried look on her face.]

And what's got you worried, Bri? It better not be DeWolfe, for his
sake... [Tom cracks his knuckles] You know how I feel about that-

[Brianna hugs her overprotective brother in an effort to keep him from
ripping the lungs out of her 'beloved'.]

BL: Thanks Tom, but it's not John. Not exactly...

TL: Meaning?

BL: Well, you've seen the lineup Saturday night. Tara and I are in a
six
woman tag team match, but we've had zero luck finding a partner. John's
tried to help find us a third person, but they keep turning him down.

TL: [muttering] Probably because he can't get his eyes above
bustline...

BL: What?

TL: Nothing. Look, I told Tara and I'll tell you too. If you can't find
another partner, I'll just show up and take one of those three out of
the
match the hard way. No muss, no fuss-

BL: No! C'mon, we don't need you charging in there like a bull in a
china shop. We need to find a third partner, plain and simple. John
says not to worry, but I can't help but... Hey! What about Samantha
Daniels? She's not doing anything that night is she? Maybe you could
talk to Scott and see if he'd ask her to team up?

TL: I dunno Bri, she's a nice kid but I don't know what kind of help
she'd be to you. You saw her out there earlier, right?

BL: Uh... no. I was busy.

TL: Please don't elaborate. [shudders] Well, she wasn't exactly the
prodigal daughter. I mean, not yet. She's got spunk, but she's a
rookie. She'd be able to hold her own against Borders, but don't forget
who you've got against you. Tara can't stand Smith, but she's a three
time women's champion here. Drake's a tough customer too, and even
Kidd's wife has made some progress.

BL: [whining a little] That's why we need another partnerrrrrrr!

TL: Yeah, and I've gotta make sure I'm not saying that after Dan's
match
with Martinez tonight. Don't worry, I'm sure my lovely wife has some
plan up her sleeve even if DeWolfe totally botches things. But if
you'll
excuse me Bri, I've got to get down to the ring. We'll talk more after
the show.

BL: Good luck, big brother.

[Landis heads for the gorilla position, as we cut to the announcers.]

GH: It looks like confidence doesn't run in the Landis family, Tom
might
think this is going to be a cakewalk against Michael Bonn but Brianna
seems somewhat uptight for BFTM.

AW: Wouldn't you be if you were missing a partner?

GH: I wouldn't mind testing that theory.

AW: Jerk.
__ __ _ _ _
| \/ |___| | |_ __| |_____ __ ___ _
.................| |\/| / -_) | _/ _' / _ \ V V / ' \.................
|_| |_\___|_|\__\__,_\___/\_/\_/|_||_|

SINGLES MATCH:
"Hellraiser" Tom Landis versus "Nighthawk" Michael Bonn
........................................................................

[Landis emerged from the locker rooms to a rousing chorus of boos, but
he
was unprepared for his opponent coming up from behind and attacking him
in the aisleway as he came down to the ring. Tearing the Pride t-shirt
off his back and throwing it into the crowd drew heavy cheers for Bonn,
and he sent Landis crashing into the metal ringpost a few times before
finally rolling him into the ring to start the match. Soon after this,
Ryu Osawa cut through the crowd, escorting Virginia St. Ursula to her
position at ringside as Bonn continued softening Landis up with
particular attention paid to his shoulders and legs, the Nighthawk
clamping on a standing version of a cross armbar at one point and
forcing
Landis to claw for the ropes for the forced break.]

GH: The Pridesman seems outmatched here tonight.

AW: AGH! Why is this fowl thing up here again!?!

Trice: Bok?

[Bonn continued to focus on the shoulder of Landis, but the veteran
managed to shield the referee from seeing him thumb Bonn in the eye and
once free hit the former cruiserweight champion with a vicious
chopblock.
The Nighthawk, down on the mat and clutching at his knee in agony, and
after a small bit of recovery time Landis launched into a stomp-fest to
keep Bonn off his feet. After a spear tackle to the mat, Bonn shrugged
off another pinfall and attempted to get back up, actually listening as
Virginia spoke to him and managing to calm him down as Ryu taunted Tom
instead. Even with a limp, Bonn managed to retake the advantage of the
match and drilled Landis with a DDT, almost putting him away.

But the Hellraiser once again got his shoulder off the mat, continuing
the fight and getting in a shot to the groin to double Bonn up, then
slapped on an abdominal stretch with teeth gritted, even as his
shoulder
gave him trouble. And with a handful of the ropes, Landis maintained
his
position and tried to force a submission hold out of Michael. Virginia
however was able to alert the referee and the official kicked Tom's arm
to break the grip, and Bonn hurled him to the mat with a hiptoss
takedown
into a submission hold of his own...

...but a rake of the face allowed Tom to escape and to the floor to
safety. At least until Shaun Borders suddenly appeared from within the
crowd and grabbed Landis by the tights, hurling him back into the ring
well before he was ready and into the waiting arms of Bonn with a
Skyscreamer for the three count!]

DH: Here is your winner...

"NNNIGHTHAAAAAAAWWWK" MIIIIICHAEEEEEEEEEL BOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!

AW: What a crock!

[As Borders slid into the ring, Virginia and Don't Go There left the
ringside area. Landis struggled to get up, but Borders grabbed him and
upon dragging the groggy Pridesman to the corner hit him with the
Diamond
Dust! Daniel Kidd rushed down to the ring, but by then it was too late
as Borders fled back into the crowd and escaped.]

GH: Folks, what you just witnessed was the Pride getting one-upped!
Landis ran his mouth about Bonn and about Borders earlier, and now
he'll
spend the rest of the night taking his foot out of his mouth!

AW: Greg, this is no time for kinky talk! Tom got ripped off!

[Soon after the Cornerstones leave ringside, darkness falls across the
interior of the arena as the lights are suddenly extinguished. Over the
entrance, strobe lights randomly flash through the darkness and a cloud
of surging hazy purple smoke as LL Cool J's "Momma Said Knock You Out"
begins to blast through the speakers at full tilt.]

GH: Our main event is going to be a tremendous eight-man matchup but
coming to the ring right now is none other than "Mr. Excitement" Alex
Extreme who will be forced to team up with an old foe in the form of
Jason Keening tonight... and is also engaged in a three-way war with
Keening and the father-son duo of Chris Douglas and Ethan de Sade!

AW: Ugh! I'm gonna have to have a word with Douglas and de Sade to see
what they can do about ripping out this moron's vocal cords. Keening's
too, just to be on the safe side.

[A white light erupts, temporarily blinding the crowd as the arena then
goes pitch black once more.

_KAABOOM! KAABOOM! KAABOOM! KAABOOM!_

Through the smoky purple haze and pyrotechnics walks "Mr. Excitement"
Alex Extreme, with the Mercenary following behind him closely,
trademark
Haliburton briefcase in hand. The spotlights converge on Mr. Excitement
as they alternate from white, blue, pink, and purple. Extreme, wearing
a
black and neon blue leather jacket, a black T-shirt with a big huge
clumsly splashed big X in neon purple on it, Ray Ban wafer shades and a
pair of neon blue and black swirled spandex pants, glistens in the
arena
lights as he throws a few lefts and rights into the air and heads to
ringside. Extreme walks into the ring. He then hops upon a turnbuckle
and throws his arms in the air to a mixed reaction before grabbing a
wireless microphone out of the air as it's tossed to him by one of the
ringside attendants.]

AW: Great! Here go another wasted ten minutes of my life that I'll
never
get back!

GH: You may not care but I'm rather interested to hear what Extreme has
to say.

AW: Why? Ever since this loser scored a fluke win over Michael
Augustine
all those months ago, he's been operating under the misguided delusion
that he matters to this company!

GH: Thousands of fans across the country would disagree with you,
Amanda.
Alex Extreme does matter to this company... and he matters a great deal
to them.

AW: Pfft! Like I wanna pay attention to a bunch of mindless rabble
anyway!

[Unaware of this dialogue, Extreme raises the microphone to his lips.]

AE: Don't worry, folks, unlike some others on this roster, I didn't
come
out here tonight to bore you all to tears with some rambling monologue
about what's bothering me these days and what's at the top of my
agenda.

AW: Good. So get lost already!

GH: Amanda!

[Extreme pauses for a moment as he paces back and forth like a tiger in
a cage, impatiently awaiting its next meal.]

AE: I came out here... to go against what the suits in the back have
decided to schedule for tonight's main event. I'm here to call someone
out that I'm supposed to be teaming up with. To make an ignorant,
hypocritical walking pile of crap come on out here and face me. And you
all know who I'm talking about by now, don't you?

[A small group of fans in the audience begins chanting "KEENING!" over
and over in response.]

AE: Yeah, that's who I'm talking about. Oh and Whitebread? Let's not
keep the people waiting.

[And on cue, Audioslave's "Your Time Has Come" begins playing over the
loudspeakers to which the fans respond with a loud cheer.]

AW: Great, Tweedle-Dumb will now have a chat with Tweedle-Dumber. Wake
me when this is all over.

[The expression on Extreme's face is one of anticipation as he stares
daggers up the aisle to where the former "Screaming Drillbit" emerges
through the curtains. For his part, Keening wastes no time walking down
to the ring. As he steps between the ropes, he can be seen to be
holding
a microphone of his own and as he steps up to stand nearly toe-to-toe
with Extreme, he looks up at the taller man with an expression of
disgust
clearly visible on his face.]

JK: You know somethin', Alex? We're supposed to be workin' together
later tonight but... I've only got one question for you right now.

AE: Oh, really? This oughta be good. Bring it on, Boy Scout.

[Keening continues to glare at Extreme who answers back with a glare of
his own.]

JK: Why the hell are we even talking to one another anymore?

[Before Extreme can respond, Keening continues.]

JK: Seriously, what do we need to talk about? You want to beat the hell
out of me. I want to beat the hell out of you. We've hated each other's
guts for years now and everybody knows it. Why don't both of us just
stop dancin' around the issue, shut the hell up, and get on with it all
ready!

[The crowd roars its approval as Extreme snorts in amusement.]

AE: You know what? For the first time in years, you've finally gone and
said something that I can agree with.

[*WHUMP!*

And with that, Extreme wallops Keening across the side of the face with
his microphone. Keening's head whips sideways but the burly Paiute
wrestler fires back with a forearm smash of his own and the two men are
suddenly unloading on one another with a barrage of punches and forearm
strikes.]

GH: Here we go again!

AW: The only way I'm going to find any of this mildly entertaining is
if
these two idiots somehow manage to cripple each other.

[But despite the ferocity with which the two men pummel each other, the
brawl doesn't last very long as a thick crowd of security guards floods
the ring and pulls the two apart. This is done with great difficulty as
both men strain to resume their battle but are restrained by over
half-a-dozen guards each. And into this chaotic scene, a loud feminine
voice erupts over the loudspeakers, causing everyone to pause and turn
towards the arena entrance.]

V: THAT'S ENOUGH!

[The owner of the voice? One Becky Byers. And while the anger on her
face cannot match the berserk rage on both Extreme's and Keening's
faces,
she definitely looks annoyed as she marches quickly down the aisle
while
speaking into a wireless microphone of her own.]

BB: You two overgrown juveniles can't seem to get past your own
particular pissing contest and see the bigger picture, can you?

[Having dropped their own microphones in the melee, neither Extreme nor
Keening are able to answer but neither seems so inclined as they
continue
to shout threats and insults at one another. Into the middle of this
fray steps Byers who looks back and forth between the two with an
expression of resignation.]

BB: Fine. You two want to tear each other apart despite all manner of
common sense and intelligence that should tell you otherwise? I, for
one, am sick and tired of trying to stop you.

AW: Good. So let them go scratch each other's eyes out in a corner
somewhere while the rest of us try to watch something interesting!

GH: Sssh, Amanda!

[Finally beginning to accept that they won't be allowed to resume their
struggle, both Extreme and Keening begin to relax somewhat within the
grip of the guards. For their part, however, the guards seem to have
been well briefed and none of them loosens their grip.]

BB: But if you want to butt heads so badly, then at least you're going
to
do so with some bare minimum of limitations and control.

V: Hold on just a second!

[Heads turn toward the top of the aisle and the audience erupts in boos
as "Fatality" herself, Jessica Marshall walks through the curtains with

a
microphone in hand.]

JFM: Before you start booking matches, missie, perhaps you need to
consult with someone who knows a whole lot more about this than you do!
Or ever will!

[Byers and Marshall exchange venomous glances while in the background,
Extreme and Keening struggle to get their hands on one another again.]

JFM: If anyone is going to announce this match for Gold Rush, its me. I
made it happen and come Gold Rush we're going to see Jason Keening and
Alex Extreme in an I Quit match. Oh and Becky? If Extreme loses, he's
_GONE_.

[Extreme stops struggling with the guards his eyes wide. He starts
demanding a microphone and is given one as Keening is moved to the
other
half of ringside.]

AE: Now wait just one damn minute! Last I checked, I have to sign that
contract to make it valid. Well you can just forget that! If Bad Ass is
gonna take the title from that runt Daniels, I can live without a title
shot for a while.

[Byers smiles at this and smirks at Jessica Marshall.]

BB: Well, Jessica, it seems you don't really have a match now do you?

JFM: I don't need a contract for these two to fight.

[This time it is Keening's turn to demand a microphone and Becky Byers
steps over to hold hers in front of his face.]

JK: So what the hell else have you got planned, Jessica? You've
obviously got something in mind... so what is it?

[From the top of the aisle, the woman nicknamed "Fatality" simply grins
in anticipation.]

JFM: I'm glad you asked, Jason. See, I have two people who want a
piece of both of you.

[At this, a modernized version of "Nobody Does it Better" begins
playing
over the loudspeakers and the crowd responds with a deafening chorus of
boos and jeers. Through the entrance curtains, "Mr. Main Event" Chris
Douglas and Ethan de Sade walk out followed by their enormous Austrian
bodyguard, Titanicus. Douglas and de Sade smile triumphantly as they
take up flanking positions on either side of Jessica Marshall.]

JFM: So if we can't get you two to fight at the pay-per-view, I'll
grant
these gentlemen their wish. At Gold Rush... it'll be Chris Douglas and
Ethan de Sade versus Jason Keening versus Alex Extreme!

AW: Now *THAT* is more like it!

[Despite Amanda Wells' eager reception of this idea, the audience
clearly
doesn't like the proposition as the booing and jeering grow louder.]

GH: Wow! What a disadvantage both Alex Extreme and Jason Keening are
going to be facing at Gold Rush. A handicap triangle match with only
one
tag team, Douglas and de Sade, while neither Extreme nor Keening will
have a partner!

AW: I *LIKE* those odds. That woman is a genius!

[No one else seems to share Amanda's view as Jessica Marshall retreats
through the curtains with Douglas, de Sade, and Titanicus in tow. In
the ring, Becky Byers directs the security guards in ushering Extreme
and Keening out of the ring, careful to make sure that they're unable
to get at one another.]

GH: A very interesting announcement just now as... I don't think we've
ever seen a handicap triangle tag match before in the UWF.

AW: I can't wait! Once Douglas and de Sade wipe the mat with those two
losers, we can move on to something actually interesting!

[The view switches to a semi-lit corridor somewhere in the back of the
arena. The only light appears to be coming from a large green neon sign
proclaiming the entire area to be "Trey's Lounge." The beat of dance
music eminating from behind a pair of closed double doors is completely
overwhelming. As the camera bravely tries to make its way to the source
of such deafening noise and types of chaos inappropriate for a non-XXX
rated television show such as Meltdown, the people manning the
television
equipment are interrupted by someone walking out of the party. A small
trickle of foam follows behind as not just someone, but none other than
the host of the party, escapes the bedlam. With just a look towards the
camera, Trey DaMann gets the crew to follow him down the hallway. He
has
showered and changed back into his traditional Armani and Gucci attire
after the match, but doesn't look like he's in any sort of mood to
party.
Without any more acknowledgement than he has already provided, an
unusually focused and determined Trey DaMann finally addresses the
masses. He gives no indication of starting this segment with his usual
theatrics.]

TD: The star of the show...has business to attend to.

[The camera remains a few paces behind as Trey reaches a large man in
dark clothing who points him in a specific direction. The hallways in
which they travel are starting to become brighter and brighter.]

TD: Yeah, tonight was my last in-ring appearance before my first UWF
supercard. Gold Rush, no less. The biggest one of 'em all. Problem is,
things have gone the way that I'VE wanted.

[Trey walks up to another strategically-placed associate, who again
points him in the correct direction. The camera and crew continue to
follow.]

TD: I was expecting to win my first-ever World title at my first-ever
supercard. The storybook ending reborn. But after what's taken place
the
last few weeks, it's more like stillborn.

[Trey flashes a disgusted look at the camera. Please, you really don't
feel sorry for him, do you?]

TD: The effort. The sacrifice. The frustration. Everything my lawyers
did. My associates did. _I_ did. And for what? It's still not settled.
I'm still contractually obligated to face some pathetic no-talent
wanna-be curtain-jerker instead of the UWF World Heavyweight champion.

[Another associate points the caravan to the left.]

TD: I hate the fact that somebody else has my World heavyweight title
match at Gold Rush. Every morning when I wake up and remember that I am
NOT where I wanted to be on the card, I feel like I want to vomit. Who
knew these feelings of frustration and loathing even existed? I
certainly
didn't.

[Trey and company are now pointed toward the end of the hallway.]

TD: And who do I have to thank for all this?...

[Trey doubles back, still with the camera crew following like puppy
dogs,
to confer with his associate. He whispers in Trey's ear, then points
down
the hallway again to refresh Trey's memory. Trey thanks him and
continues
walking.]

TD: None other than my Gold Rush opponent...Corey Irons. The man who I
have heard, absolutely _will not_ withdraw from the match. Myself and
my
entire legal staff have given him every reason on MY green earth, but
he
still won't quit.

[Trey is directed to go down the hallway on the left.].

TD: He stuck to his guns, and surprisingly, I can almost begin to
respect
that. He faced me in the ring tonight, and somehow fought off the urge
to
grab the house microphone and give up the match at Gold Rush.

[Upon walking towards another strategically placed associate, the man
nods at Trey and points toward the dressing room of one "War Machine"
Corey Irons.]

TD: I can almost respect the action, but I certainly don't respect the
person. This little joke has gone on long enough. Tonight was an
aberration as that man ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT belong in the same ring as
me.
He may not be acting like it, but he definitely knows it and WILL bail
out of the Gold Rush match. He is going to do this because he does not
want to be the one that gets between me, my UWF World Heavyweight
title,
and my wrestling immortality. He's interfered with my plans long enough
and I am going to find a way to stop this immediately.

[Upon Trey's last word, the camera swings around to show Corey Irons,
standing at the locker room door. He stares blankly at Trey, not saying

a
word until....]

CI: Trey...

[Irons stares coldly into the eyes of his adversary.]

CI: You talk as if a one-way ticket to Gold Rush is easily brushed
aside.
You speak as if you'd appear on the show _at_ _all_ if I were to kindly
lay down your challenge. Well kid, I got news for ya...

In this game... when you ask for a fight?

You better be ready for one.

Yet here you are, spouting off your petty little complaints how this
isn't the fight you _wanted_. And for all your big talk, kiddo, you've
yet to realize this sport of ours has nothing to do with wants and
needs...

[He jabs a finger into the chest of DaMann as he continues speaking.]

CI: 'Cause come Gold Rush? Those bruises I'm going to lay on you?

You won't want them either.

The soreness in the back of your head when you wake up the next
morning?

You won't want that either.

And when your body's impaled on a ringpost?

Heh heh... that's right, you won't want that feeling either.

[He smirks.]

CI: So save your ramblings, and spare me your pleas for signing away
your
life at Gold Rush. For once kid, shut your pie hole, and just get in
that
ring when the time comes.

Otherwise, don't come knocking on my door unless you've got something
_important_ to say...

[With that, Irons turns around, and begins to shut the door to his
locker
room, until...]

"THWACK!!!"

GH: DaMann just nailed Irons in the back of the head!

AW: Serves him right for telling Trey to take a hike!

[Irons begins to fight back, as Trey pummels him with lefts and
rights...]

"THUD!"

GH: DaMann just ran Irons head-first into that locker!

[DaMann begins to kick down at the fallen Irons, who is sprawled out on
his hands and knees. DaMann moves in to kick Irons in the gut, but
Irons
catches DaMann by the foot, and takes him down. Irons now with a flurry
of lefts and rights on DaMann...]

GH: Looks like Corey's turned the tide here.

[Irons spits down in DaMann's face, before getting up. A slew of
officials then come barging in to break up the brawl, and pull Irons
off
of Trey.]

GH: Finally we've got some sense of order here.

AW: "Finally?" They were barely brawling for thirty seconds!

[Officials manage to separate Irons and DaMann. They begin to lead
DaMann
out of Irons' locker room. DaMann then notices Irons turned around and
begins to plead his case to the officials. Ever the opportunist, Trey
pushes his way through the crowd and...]

"SMACK!"

GH: TREY DAMANN JUST CLIPPED IRONS IN THE KNEE!!! HE CLIPPED HIM IN HIS
BAD KNEE!

[Irons lays in a heap on the ground as the officials try to lead DaMann
out of the dressing room.]

TD: See, I knew I would find a way to make you reconsider. Corey, I
offered you everything...and as it turns out, all I had to offer was a
glimpse of what would happen if you did face me at Gold Rush. Don't
make
that mistake, Corey. Just go to the hospital and forget all about this.
Hell, maybe they'll have Pay-Per-View in your hospital room! That way,
you'll be able to see history being made, in the form of a new UWF
World
Heavyweight champion.

[A small smirk emerges on the side of Trey's face, which quickly grows
into a full-fledged TRILLION DOLLAR TREY DAMANN SMILE!]

TD: You know what, I think I just found a reason to party!

[Trey no longer needs the forced assistance from UWF officials as he
willingly leaves the locker room to return to his Lounge. Emergency
personnel continue to attend to the fallen Irons as the camera switches
back to Amanda and Greg.]

GH: That's typical, that's typical Trey DaMann! Take the shortcut!

AW: It's the American Way.

GH: Fans, I don't know what this means for the six man tag team contest
we had scheduled in just a little while. Corey Irons was supposed to
team up with the Sons of Cacophony against DaMann and the Hands of
Death
but now...

AW: Handicap match, in every sense of the word!

GH: We'll be sure to keep you informed of any developments in the
situation, but honestly I don't know if Corey Irons will be able to
compete tonight. Perhaps not even at Gold Rush.

[Cut to backstage: "Superstar" Stephanie Harper is walking down a
hallway and approaching a door... might be her dressing room. Steph is
wearing a Tim Duncan San Antonio Spurs jersey over a white T-shirt,
along
with blue jeans and tennis shoes. She goes to open the door when she
hears a voice.]

"HEY! Stephanie!"

[Stephanie looks in the direction of the voice...and rolls her eyes a
bit as one Brian McKenzie (notice the lack of the "First American
Badass"
monkier. Thanks, U.S. Trademark and Patent Office!) comes up to her.

More like storms up to her, actually. McKenzie, in a green turtleneck
and a pair of tan slacks, comes to halt in front of Harper, and stares
down the nose of his wire-rimmed glasses at her.]

BM: We need to talk, Stephanie. Who the hell died and appointed you
Little Miss Girl Scout?

SH: Excuse me? What's gotten into you?

BM: Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about, Stephanie. You came
out and cost Donna her matchup? Don't try to deny it either.

SH: Absolutely, I did. Because, as usual, Donna was proving she can't
win a match without tossing the rulebook out the window.

BM: Oh, please, Stephanie. You're just jealous because Donna's turning
into a better wrestler than you'll ever be!? Okay, sure, she may not
have been the most talented wrestler when she first got here to the
UWF,
but she's worked her ass off and is becoming the best woman wrestler
this
federation has ever seen. Better than Erin McCoys, better than Tigress,
and yes, even better than you. Envious much, Steph?

SH: Oh, come off it, Brian. You know darn well, just like everybody
else
knows, that you're only defending Donna because she the first person
you
got laid with.

[McKenzie sputters for a second.]

BM: I...you think...look, Stephanie, I don't know what you think, or
what everyone else thinks, but I sure as hell aren't defending Donna
because she's having sex with me.

[Beat]

BM: And I've slept with women before Donna!? Kerry Whiteman, for one,
freshman year at Pitt!

SH: Really... but what about for more than just a one-night stand like
I'll bet she was.

BM: Michelle Robinson, sophomore AND junior years!? She's another!? And
I still have her phone number if you want to talk to her!

SH: [folding her arms] I don't think that will be necessary, but my
point is...

BM: And THEN there was Felicity Huffman!? At least...I thought she was
Felicity Huffman...

SH: [pausing] I don't think I want to know about that..

BM: Oh!? And Tara Reid!? Can't forget her!

SH: ...

BM: What?

SH: ...

BM: WHAT?!

SH: Do I even need to get into that one...

[Stephanie rolls her eyes, shakes her head, but then her face becomes
serious.]

SH: Let me put it to you this way, Brian... have you even realized what
your relationship with Donna is doing to your relationship with Chris
O'Brien?

[And quietly turning a corner a few feet behind Stephanie is the woman
in question.? The fomer Woman's champ is glaring slightly at what she's
hearing, but quickly ducks back behind the corner before she can be
seen
by either Harper or McKenzie...

..save for an ear and tuft of dark brown hair.]

BM: Chris and I had a long talk about that, and it's ALL good...wait a
minute!? Don't try to change the subject, Stephanie!? I came here
because you keep poking your nose into Donna's business, and I'm
telling
you it better stop ASAP.

SH: [shaking her head] Not a chance, Brian. She pulled the wool over my
eyes by acting innocent of everything that happened between us and then
she showed her true colors. That is something I will not leave
unanswered.

You think she's a better wrestler than me, Brian? Well, we'll both find
out the answer at Gold Rush when I'm not going to be fooled by any
smokescreen she throws up.

I just wish you could see through that smokescreen she's thrown up at
you.

BM: Smokescreen?? Oh, so NOW you're showing how jealous you are!

SH: Jealous? You must be joking!

[McKenzie steps forward now, in Harper's face a bit as he talks]

BM: Seriously, I'm finally happy, I meet a nice girl, my singles career
is going someplace and all you want to talk about is how the woman I
love
is lying and deceiving me.? Stephanie, considering the love of your
life
is a 350 pound Mongloid, I don't think YOU have any room to talk at
all.

[Now Stephanie moves closer as well, getting closer to Brian's face.]

SH: You leave Paul out of this! Besides, he's never pulled the wool
over
my eyes about anything, unlike Donna!

[And now, Stephanie gets a little more forceful...

...she pokes her finger at Brian's chest.]

SH: You, on the other hand...

[McKenzie, without looking, does the unthinkable.

His hand lashes out and grabs Stephanie's finger!? Before she can
react,
McKenzie's other hand grabs her wrist, and he bends Harper's finger
backwards!? Whatever Harper was about to say is lost in a cry of sudden
pain as she tries to pull away]

BM: No, YOU listen here, you little bitch.? I hear you say one more god
damn word about Donna Tetreault, or even insinuate that she's cheating
you or anyone else in some way, so help me GOD...

[Now Donna's head is popped out from behind the corner in full force,
eyes wide with malicious glee at the sight of this poor excuse of
chivalry.]

SH: [through gritted teeth] I'll say it because it's the truth, Brian.

[She tries unsuccessfully to pull her hand free.]

SH: [wincing in pain] And at least Chris O'Brien would be more of a man
to listen instead of letting his hormones do the thinking like you
are...

BM: Yeah, Stephanie...but like I keep telling everyone...I'm not Chris
O'Brien.

[With that, McKenzie lets go of the finger, and SHOVES Stephanie Harper
backwards...

*CLANG*

...into the steel door!

Harper's head cracks off of the door, and McKenzie's eyes get wide as
Harper staggers forward, holding the back of her head and swaying from
one side to another. He looks like he's about to take a step forward to
help her...

...which cues Donna stepping out from behind the corner.]

DT: Baby, she called you less of a man than Chris!? Hell, she thinks
you
don't deserve to be happy!? She INSULTED you and she insulted me...

[Donna's eyes narrow.]

DT: ...you gonna let that slide?

[McKenzie looks at his girl for a second...

...before reaching out with the palm of his hand...grabbing Harper's
face...and SLAMMING the back of her head into the door a second time!

All while still looking at Donna]

BM: No. No, I won't.

PW: No you won't WHAT?

[Rushing into the scene is Paul Wong, decked out in wrestling trunks
and his trademark grey fedora hat and sunglasses.? He runs up in
between
Brian and Stephanie, shoving Brian back.? His face is contorted in
anger
as he stares at Brian, keeping himself between Stephanie and Brian.]

PW: Come on, McKenzie. Try something. Please. I'm begging you.

[He puts his body between Brian and Stephanie.] Steph, are you all
right?

[Stephanie just groans as she holds her head.]

DT: How cute...it's Steph's very own St. Bernard complete with the
slobber!

PW: At Gold Rush, Donna's going to get beaten to a pulp by Steph. And
you, McKenzie... stick your damn nose in the match and I'll hurt you so
badly you'll wish you were sober. Now get the hell out of here.

[Donna pulls a glaring Brian McKenzie back.]

DT: Not now...

[She shoots Wong an ugly sneer.]

DT: Big words, Paulie. But without a better half to do your thinking,
you fall short. You always do. [She gives a dismissive snort to the
fallen Harper] Be seeing you, Steph...

[Donna and Brian depart as Wong helps a dazed Stephanie to her feet.
Fade to black.]

GH: That's disgusting, I don't believe Brian McKenzie just laid his
hands
on Stephanie Harper backstage! Thank goodness Paul Wong was there.

AW: Oh yeah, he's a real knight in shining armour. Wasn't he the one
who
clotheslined a female several years ago? Or was he the one who
powerbombed a senior citizen off the top of a videoscreen?

GH: Paul Wong has apologized repeatedly for those actions, Amanda.

But right now we've got to get to the ring for the last first round
match
in the Cruiserweight Invitational Tournament. Jamie Underwood is
looking
to continue his winning streak, but he's squaring off with the
always-intimidating Vyolynce.
__ __ _ _ _
| \/ |___| | |_ __| |_____ __ ___ _
.................| |\/| / -_) | _/ _' / _ \ V V / ' \.................
|_| |_\___|_|\__\__,_\___/\_/\_/|_||_|

CRUISERWEIGHT INVITATIONAL TOURNAMENT ROUND ONE MATCH:
Jamie Underwood versus Vyolynce
........................................................................

[Underwood entered the ring first, coming out to brand new music as
"I'll
Take You Down" by T.F.F. came over the PA system. The crowd seemed to
be
mostly behind Jamie, but Vyolynce drew a bit of a mixed pop during his
entrance.

Jamie started quickly, nailing Vyolynce with a series of high impact
moves that began with a leaping side kick and ended with a monkey
flip-kippup-corkscrew legdrop combination. Underwood fought to keep
Vyolynce grounded, only to be brought down with a single leg takedown
right into a half crab, but Vyolynce released Jamie and instead caught
him with an Oblivion into the back of the head. He kept Underwood dazed
as he focused on the head and neck of the aerial wrestler, dropping him
with a half powerbomb for a near three count and not long after
applying
an STF hold. Jamie also broke out the submissions soon into the match,
catching Vyolynce as he tried another Oblivion and pulled him down into

a
Fujiwara Armbar that caused Vyo to struggle to the ropes after about a
minute of resisting the pain.

Off an irish whip Jamie was able to surprise Vyolynce with a crucifix
counter out of a clothesline and turned it into a neckdrop to the mat,
stunning the masked man long enough for Jamie to kick him to the
outside
and then wowed the audience with a springboard shooting star press to
the
outside! The result knocks both men hard to the boards, but Jamie went
back to the apron and tried to hit a springboard into a frog splash
only
to wipe out as Vyo dodged the move entirely and drove Jamie down
sternum-first on the boards. Vyolynce manages to pinball Jamie's head
off the ringpost, then the apron and the steel steps in quick
succession
before sending him facefirst to the floor and then dropping a double
knee
into the back of the head to severely daze him.

Vyo returned to the ring, still smarting from the shooting star press,
and as he did Andrew "Flash" Tucker and L. Dan Dee of the Illuminati
came
down for a closer look to ringside, Tucker grabbing Underwood and
beginning to stomp him down as LDD climbed onto the ring apron and from
behind struck the referee down. Vyolynce came out of the ring and tried
to chase the two man team off only to be assaulted likewise, and the
crowd cheered heavily as Alex Kidd marched down with a look of fury in
his eye and began to assist Underwood and Vyolynce.]

GH: Here comes Alex Kidd! Kidd wants to get his revenge on the
Illuminati for shaving his head!

[Kidd's appearance caused the two Illumimatis to climb into the ring
for
better ground, and Alex climbed up on the ring apron just as Jamie
began
to rise up, rolled into the ring and stopped Alex, getting right in his
face...

"Hey, what you think you're doing? I don't need your help. I don't need
anyone's help!"

And Underwood shoves Kidd, drawing a small heel pop, but the
miscommunication lets Tucker catch Jamie with a dropkick to knock him
into Alex, thus throwing the former world champion to the floor.
Vyolynce meanwhile returned to the ring and began to strike anything
and
anyone that moves, sending LDD to the mat with an Oblivion head strike
and as Jamie sends Tucker over the ropes with a high back bodydrop the
masked wrestler takes advantage with a running rib strike and then
elevates Jamie for a piledriver, holding him up to delay impact until
the
blood rushes to his head. Jamie tries in vain to kick out, but thanks
to
LDD holding onto his leg from the floor and out of the ref's sight the
match ends, stunning the crowd. Following the match LDD and Tucker
managed to get to the back, chased by Alex Kidd and soon after that by
a
dazed but pissed off Underwood. Vyolynce is left in the ring by
himself,
having tried to grab one of the Illuminati before they left but with no
success. Eventually the mirrored Vyo left the ring to mixed response.]

DH: Here is your winner, AND ADVANCING IN THE TOURNAMENT...

VYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOLYNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNCE!

GH: Vyolynce wins the match but I'd say he's not satisfied with that
victory. L. Dan Dee and Andrew Tucker got the hell out of dodge before
he could get his hands on them.

AW: Just shut up and take the win, Vyo. Oh wait... just take the win,
Vyo.

GH: Very funny.

[Backstage at the Air Canada Centre, we see a closed door, on which
sits
an ornate nameplate reading "UWF Board of Directors". Under that, on a
piece of paper taped to the door, is a handwritten sign reading "DO NOT
DISTURB - SPECIAL MEETING IN PROGRESS". There is no other activity in
sight... until a moment later, when the door is opened from the inside.
Then we see a very well dressed John DeWolfe - he cleans up nice, I'm
surprised to admit - backing out of the room, speaking to the unseen
Directors inside as he does. DeWolfe's voice is full of almost
childlike
joy.]

JDW: Thank you, thank you sirs! Thank you so much for coming to this
special, on site meeting, and thank you for agreeing to my request! You
won't regret this, I promise you!

[DeWolfe continues to back out the door slowly as he praises the men
and
women who make this company the best in the world today.]

JDW: Thank you so much, all of you! Mike... Bob.. Steve... Patrick...
Katie, congrats on the recent marriage... Chris... Good to see you
again,
Gerren... Jay... Mr. Sonby, glad you could make it... Jeremy, keep
working on that golf game... oh, I wish I had time to thank you all!
Make
sure to send my best to Herr Tommy in Germany as well! Again, you won't
regret this!

[At this, DeWolfe is all the way out into the hallway, so he just
allows
the door to close in front of him. He then turns, and almost hops
excitedly down the hall, an insane grin on his face.]

JDW: It worked! Huzzah, huzzah, it worked! I knew going over Byers'
head
would pay off!

BL: Going over Byers' head? What have you done, puddin'?

[DeWolfe turns around, as does the cameraman, to see a pleased looking
Brianna Landis standing behind them.]

BL: You mean we don't have to wrestle this weekend! I knew you'd be my
hero! You said you had a plan, and when you say you have a plan that
means you've got a plan...

[Landis leans in to kiss DeWolfe on the cheek, and smiles
affectionately
at him. DeWolfe, for his part, looks very uncomfortable... and somewhat
guilty. At length, he speaks.]

JDW: Uh... I didn't exactly get us out of the match.

BL: Ooooooookay. So you found us a partner then? Cool! Who is it,
someone on the roster? Or someone from Japan maybe?

JDW: Um, not exactly. I didn't find us a partner.

[Landis starts to look a bit concerned.]

BL: Um... then what did you mean when you said you went over Becky's
head? You said 'it worked.' What worked?

[DeWolfe beams with pride as he responds.]

JDW: I convinced the Board to buy me an air hockey table for my office!

[Landis stares blankly at DeWolfe.]

BL: You... what?

JDW: Yeah, I told them if I had an air hockey table, I'd spend more
time
in my office and less time pitching my ideas to them in their offices.
And they went for it!

BL: But puddin'... why an air hockey table? We have that match on
Saturday night, and you were worried about getting an air hockey table
for your office? What about the match?

JDW: Oh, that. Don't worry, babe, I've got a plan! And as soon as I get
back from the games store with my table, I'll get right to work on it!

[DeWolfe pauses for a moment, then adds more truthfully...]

JDW: Well, maybe after a couple of games. Come by my office. Gib Crosby
from Legal is gonna be there, and we'll be playing for the title of
Champion of the World! You can play winner!

[And with that, the exuberant DeWolfe walks past the totally flummoxed
Landis, patting her rear end once as he does. Landis calls out as he
leaves, but he doesn't seem to hear her.]

BL: BUT WHAT ABOUT OUR MATCH?!?

[Cut.]

GH: Things definitely not going well for the Bod Squad leading into
that
big six person contest at Brawl From The Mall.

AW: I can't believe nobody wants to tag with them!

GH: So why don't you do it, Amanda?

AW: I... I have a pedicure that day.

GH: Convenient. Well speaking of BFTM, fans, I'm told we have some
footage courtesy of The Kindred that was taped last week after Rampage.
Beware, however, as it contains some graphic content. Send your kids
and
anyone who has a weak stomach out of the room.

[Cut to the Unitron and pan in so the video engulfs the entire shot.

And tied on a steel folding chair, is Lolita Love.

She still wears her pink camisole and denim mini skirt. However her
feet
are bare as they rest on a cold concrete floor. Her blonde hair is
tinged with the orange of dried blood, a cut visible high on her
forehead. She carries another wound from her kidnapping, the spot on
her
chest where Moira twisted a shard of glass into it. But there are also
many other, tiny cuts scattered across the young woman's face, trails
of
blood running down and off her chin. Her bare feet also have a good
number of tiny cuts on them. And her mouth is taped shut. Unable to
even move her head left or right due to restraints, her eyes gaze
upward
at an angle. Finally another woman's voice can be heard, one carrying a
tone of deadly intent.]

V: Having fun yet, "'Lita"?

[Lolita tries to say something, but obviously isn't getting anywhere
with
the tape covering her mouth. Pan out and slightly right.

"Poison Bliss" Myra Benedict.

She has obviously changed since we saw her earlier in the day on
Rampage,
at least partially. She now wears a sleeveless, solid black t-shirt,
her
denim jeans, and dark brown boots on her feet. Her wavy, dark brown
hair
with red highlights, as always flows down around her shoulders, framing
her face. And she's kneeling on the floor in front of Lolita, eyes
turned upward to gaze at her captive rival.]

PBMB: Well don't you worry. We'll change that soon enough.

[Smirking fiendishly, she rises to her feet and steps over to a table.
Reaching for a measuring cup of white powder, she turns her gaze back
toward the Love sister.]

PBMB: Those cuts stinging much yet, hmmm?

[The cup in hand, she walks back toward Lolita, stepping in front of
her.
With her free hand, Myra gently closes her rival's eyes, her voice
turning to an almost soothing tone, though there's also a note of
sarcasm
mixed in.]

PBMB: Keep those pretty eyes of yours closed. We wouldn't want them
damaged, now would we?

[Visibly bracing herself, Lolita complies. Grinning darkly, Myra raises
her cup over a small cut on Lolita's right cheek; the white powder,
salt,
slowly trickling down into the open wound. And in an instant, as the
pain begins to register, Lolita's eyes snap back open, almost bulging
out
of their sockets. Apparently annoyed by Lolita's "defiance", a scowl
crosses Myra's face as her tone clearly turns cold.]

PBMB: Now, now... I told you to keep those shut. But since you don't
listen very well, I'm going to have to hurt you a lot more.

[Returning to the table, she pulls an empty bucket to the front and
fills
it with water from a nearby sink. She then grabs a large bag of salt
and
pours a considerable amount of it into the bucket. After stirring her
mixture a bit, Myra brings it back toward Lolita, setting it down at
her
feet. Dropping down to one knee, she then lifts her captive's legs at
the knees, slides the bucket in closer, and puts one of Lolita's feet
into the bucket.

Her face scrunching up as she shuts her eyes tightly, trying to fight
the
pain, Lolita can't help but squirm with what very little room she has
due
to her restraints.

Rising back to her feet, Myra watches as Lolita continues to try to
squirm in pain, an amused, sadistic look on the Benedict woman's face.]

PBMB: That's just a taste, "'Lita"... a taste of what is to come for
you
and your sister. For too long the two of you have had it easy, day
after
day just going through the motions.

Winning...

Losing...

Going through life with no notion of what is truly important.

[But before Myra can continue, she notices that the squirming has
stopped. It seems Lolita has passed out. Stepping out from behind the
camera is Moira Faith. She too has changed since Rampage. She looks all
most odd in the black lowrider jeans and cut off black Tool t-shirt.
The
outfit is so casual and tom boy-ish as opposed her normally much more
elaborate, girly outfits. Her dark silky black hair is still tied in a
bun though.

She has an exaggerated pout on her face. She sighs and crosses her
arms.]

MOIRA: Bored now.

[She speaks in a, surprise, bored monotone.]

MOIRA: We were just getting started.

[Moira walks up to Lolita and kneels down looking into her bleeding
face,
noses nearly touching. She loosens the head restraints just a little
bit
and Lolita's head sags.]

PBMB: Well, there's no fun in letting her rest. Why don't you wake her
up?

[Moira smiles, oh so innocently and lifts Lolita's chin, turning her
face
one way and then the other. She suddenly licks along the Love Sister's
jawline, tracing through the blood before placing a demure kiss on
Lolita's lips. Then she steps back, picks up the bucket, pulling out
Lita's feet and stands.]

MOIRA: Wakey, wakey, Little-Lita!

[Moira pulls back and slings the salted water into Lolita's face! She
shakes awake and then begins to moan in agony. Moira giggles and waves
to
her.]

MOIRA: Are you starting to understand, Lolita?

[Moira straddles Lolita, sitting in her lap, taking two handfuls of
hair
to force the girl to look at her. Still Lolita closes her eyes,
refusing
to look Moira in the eyes. So Moira leans forward, hugging Lolita and
resting her head on Lita's shoulder.]

MOIRA: Do you know me better now? Are you learning anything? Or are you
still going to be stupid?! Are you still going to think like Naomi?
Still
going to believe in the inner good of all mankind?

[Moira chuckles again and leans back. She smacks Lolita hard in the
face
to make sure she doesn't pass out again, then forces her eyelids open
as
much as she can. Lolita gives in just to prevent her eyes from being
gouged out. Blue eyes look into blue eyes.]

MOIRA: Tell me you've changed... And we'll let you go right now.

[Lolita trembles in fear and pain, blood still slowly dripping down her
face and off her chin. Myra leans down across Moira's shoulder, Lolita
looks up into her eyes as well, the fear becoming more palpable. Good
cop, bad cop, so to speak. Only in this situation it's more like Wicked
Cop, Wickedest Cop. Before Lolita can nod, or shake her head... Even
make
a noise. The video cuts off and becomes static.]

GH: Well we know that Lolita Love was able to get away from the Kindred
eventually, and to be quite honest I'm not sure if she'll ever be able
to
recover from that. Lolita isn't used to psychological mindgames like
that... In fact, I'm being told that Leanna Love is backstage, and
we've
got someone trying to get a update on Lolita's condition.

[The scene opens backstage to Leanna Love, stalking her way backstage.
The young woman wears a black, fitted, leather jacket, open to reveal a
black, tank top. She completes the look with jeans and tennis shoes.
Her
blonde hair is pulled back and tied in a ponytail, a surly expression
on
her face.]

Voice: Leanna!

[The young woman stops and turns to see the familiar form of Moe Owens
approach.]

MO: I'm glad that I could catch up with you.

[She frowns slightly, folding her arms across her chest.]

Leanna: Can I help you, Owens?

MO: Well, I wanted to speak with you about Lolita. Me and many of the
fans have been concerned about her, since her abduction at the hands of
the Kindred. How has she been?

[Leanna's expression softens slightly as a grimace moves across her
lips.]

Leanna: Thanks for the concern, Moe. Unfortunately, Lolita's not
holding
up too well, right now. In fact, the verdict still isn't out on whether
she'll even be at Rampage with me and Sonya Benedict.

MO: I'm sorry to hear that.

Leanna: [nods] So am I. I don't know exactly what went on, since she
hasn't been in any condition to talk about it. But I don't think it's
unrealistic to believe that those two bitches put her through Hell.
It's
what I would expect from people like Myra and Moira. They seem to
thrive
off of causing other people misery for no apparent reason. First, they
attacked me and my sister without provocation, then they stole her cat.

[Leanna shakes her head.]

Leanna: But this time, they've gone too far and [Bleep]ed with the
wrong
family.

MO: What do you mean?

Leanna: You and everybody else knows how protective I am of my sister.
And, from day one, The Kindred have seemed to focus most of their
efforts
on her. I don't know what their issues are and, right now, I don't even
give a damn. They've started this war and tried to destroy the one
person
I care about most. Now, I'm going to make them pay for it.

[Leanna's eyes narrow in contempt.]

Leanna: Maybe they've forgotten but I haven't always been the woman
that
I am now. I've made it this far because my sister helped me to make
some
very positive changes in my life. But those bitches have come along and
tried to ruin everything. So, I think it's time they got a reminder of
what and who I _really_ am.

[With that, Leanna turns and walks off as the scene fades to black.]

AW: Brave words, Love. Let's see what you do when Moira and Myra make
you choke on them.

GH: Well, I've just been informed that despite doctor's
recommendations,
the next match between Stephanie Harper and Kari Stevens of the Pride
will take place afterall.

AW: Sounds like Harper got knocked stupid by Donna and Brian. Why would
she try to face a machine like Kari at less than a hundred percent?

GH: Fighting spirit.

AW: More like con-cuss-ion.
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WOMEN'S MATCH:
"Superstar" Stephanie Harper versus Kari Stevens
........................................................................

[Despite the urging of Wong not to wrestle, Stephanie Harper came to
the
ring and took on Kari Stevens to the best of her abilities.
Unfortunately, her abilities just weren't up to par on this night
thanks
to the assault backstage and Kari maintained control for much of the
contest, abusing Harper with headbutts and focused attacks to take away
her balance and aimed at giving her a more serious head injury.
Stephanie gamely got back into the match after blocking a back suplex
and
spinning around back into a pair of locomotion german suplexes, but she
lost her grip on the third attempt and Kari whipped her to the corner,
colliding with the former women's champion with a running lariat aimed
again at the head.

Stephanie once again got a brief advantage in the match, but going to
the
top rope proved fatal to her as Kari was able to catch up to Harper and
hit a double underhook superplex to the canvas and pinned her soon
thereafter with a swinging neckbreaker. Stevens smirked and left
ringside as Paul climbed into the ring to help revive the fan
favorite.]

DH: Here is your winner... KAAAAAAAARIIIIIII SSSSSSSTEVENNNNNSSSSSSSS!

AW: Score one for the good guys!

GH: What good guys?

AW: The Pride!

GH: That's got to be the first time they've ever been referred to as
'the
good guys'. Stephanie never should have been in the ring tonight, not
after Brian McKenzie put his hands on her backstage.

AW: Bah, the prude secretly enjoyed it I'll bet.

GH: I'm sure McKenzie did.

AW: Wrong prude.

[Open to a corridor backstage at the Air Canada Centre. A cocky looking
Dan Kidd, already in his classic red-and-black Pride ring gear, stands
next to the ever-intrepid backstage interviewer, Peter Phillips.]

PP: Dan, in just a few moments you'll be out in the ring with Alex
Martinez, the number one contender to your best friend Scott Daniels'
World Title. I assume your plan is to try and injure Martinez before he
can make it to Gold Rush?

[Kidd chuckles, and then sneers derisively at Phillips.]

DK: I think you're about a fortnight slow on the uptake there, Peter. I
injured that big oaf Martinez two weeks ago. Tonight... tonight's about
embarrassing him. It's about beating him right in the middle of the
ring,
and showing him that one fluke win in a battle royale does not a number
one contender make. Tonight, Alex Martinez learns a lesson in humility,
and a lesson in Pride.

[Phillips, seemingly not put off by the rudeness Kidd just showed him,
pops back into frame to ask another question.]

PP: Be honest. Are we going to see another Pride set-up tonight?

[Kidd seems to be amused by this question as well - he smiles and takes

a
moment to enjoy his thoughts before he answers.]

DK: Peter, we don't need a setup. You see, two weeks ago we hurt Alex
Martinez. Last week, we handed him a loss in that tag team match. And
this week, prior to the ultimate humiliation at Gold Rush, we show him
up
for the fraud he is. And the Pride only needs one man... [Kidd points
to
himself] THIS MAN... to do that.

You see, Alex, Scott Daniels has two titles. One, the World Heavyweight
Title, is not in jeopardy. Not from you, not from anyone. The second,
the
title as the "Biggest Asshole in the UWF"...? Well, I'm going to do
everything in my power to give Scott a run for his money in that
department. In just a few minutes, I will prove to you and the world
just
how far from the World title you are, and just how much of an asshole I
am.

[Kidd glowers menacingly at the camera, as we cut to another scene.

He's happy. There's a smile on his face. And how often does the Last
American Badass smile? But Alex Martinez is happy. He's by himself in a
darkened room, as he usually is. But he's not murderous, not ready to
snap, not ready to break something just because he can.

And that is very unsettling.]

AM: What happens to a dream deferred?

[The smile spreads.]

AM: It turns into a bloody goddamn nightmare.

Daniel Kidd...

Welcome to your nightmare.

[Martinez is still smiling, but some of his trademark murderous rage
begins to creep into his features.]

AM: I thought I was gettin' ya at Rampage. But it didn't happen. Ya got
out of an ass kickin' you'd earned. But good things come to those who
wait. And now... now you're mine Kidd.

Now, there ain't nowhere to run to, and there ain't no place ya can
hide.
See... now I've had more time to think ‘bout what ya did to me,
and
I've had more time to plan out what I'm gonna do to ya.

Maybe ya shoulda just taken your beatin' at Rampage. It wouldn't have
been any gentler, but at least now it'd be over with. Now, all ya got
is
anticipation. And anticipation is a real bitch, ain't it?

But when all is said and done, and you're layin' in traction, gummin'
your food and hopin' that your new dentures will be comin' in soon,
just
remember Kidd, this ain't my fault. Hell, it ain't even your fault.

This is all on the head of Scott Daniels.

[Martinez pauses a moment, rage at the thought of the world champion
ruining his jovial mood.]

AM: See, Daniels put ya in play way too early. He showed his hand. You
were his secret weapon, and he blew ya right out of the gate. Now, I
know I gotta keep my eyes open for you. So now, I know that ya gotta be
in the hospital come Gold Rush.

Scotty shouldn't have let me know about ya Kidd. You shoulda been a
surprise. But now that I see ya comin'?

Well hell, ya understand why ya gotta go down, I'm sure.

And the other thing is... Daniels clearly didn't explain to you the
first
rule of dealin' with Alex Martinez. It ain't enough to leave me for
dead.

Ya gotta leave me dead.

[A hint of Martinez's earlier mirth returns, as he chuckles.]

AM: As long as I'm standin', I'm a threat. So way I see it, Daniels
screwed ya twice. He let ya loose too early, and he didn't tell ya what
ya needed to do to get the job done. So see, the ass kickin' that's
comin' up, its all the fault of your good buddy Hotspot. But don't
worry
Kidd, he'll get his soon enough.

But tonight. Tonight its all about Daniel Kidd.

Its all about makin' me wait.

Its all about you jumpin' me and tryin' to take me out.

And its all about you livin' through your worst nightmare.

Ain't no escape now Daniel Kidd. Ain't no chance you're walkin' out of
this buildin' on your own. But when ya finally do regain consciousness,
and when ya can finally string a few words together.

Remember to thank your good buddy Daniels.

He'll be in the hospital bed right next to yours.

[Fade to black.]
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SINGLES MATCH:
"The Last American Badass" Alex Martinez versus Daniel Kidd
........................................................................

[Martinez wasted no time grabbing Dan by the throat and throttling him,
tossing the much smaller man around the ring like a sack of potatoes.
Dan attempted to flee the ring, where a bandaged Tom Landis lay in wait
in the crowd and grabbed Martinez from behind with a waistlock. Alex
spun around and easily tossed Tom off, but this afforded Dan the
opportunity to clip his injured knee and take it out from under the
giant, bringing him down where the Cornerstones took turns distracting
the referee and keeping Martinez down with repeated stomping.

Fairly soon after Alex returned to the ring, Dan slapped on a standing
leglock and tried to keep the Last American Badass from grabbing the
ropes but it was only after Landis grabbed the bottom rope and pulled
it
just out of reach of Martinez that Dan began to taunt his opponent
verbally while keeping a tight grip on the leg. As Landis continued to
intervene whenever possible, Shaun Borders returned to ringside and
jumped Tom again, sending him into the side of the ring. A whip into
the
post got reversed however and it was Borders who cracked his skull, as
in
the ring Martinez powered back to his feet and began to pound Dan with
open handed chops in the corner.

Landis grabbed Borders and with an underhook chinlock, ran off the
apron
and executed Sliced Bread #2 to leave him unconscious on the arena
floor
while in the ring Martinez hoisted Dan up off the mat and into a
gorilla
press. At this point Landis entered the ring and hit a low blow on
Martinez, causing him to drop Dan harmlessly. The Pridesmen began to
assault Alex, pounding on him and then tied the monster up in the ropes
when...]

GH: LOOK AT THIS, YOUTH GONE WILD! YOUTH GONE WILD'S HEADED TO THE
RING!

[With the arena roaring, YGW dove into the ring and began to fire shots
at anyone that moved. After freeing Martinez, the LAB and YGW came back
at the Cornerstones and sent them packing. With a final heave, Martinez
grabbed both Cornerstones by the throat and exploded with a modified
double Firebomb Chokeslam, then stormed back up the aisle leaving Wild
standing over the two Pridesmen with a bemused look on his face.]

DH: Here is your winner as a result of a disqualification...

AAAAAAAAAAAALEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEX MAAAAAAARTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINEEEEEEEEEEZ!

GH: Alex with some extra momentum heading into Gold- Watch out!

AW: HAH! How's that feel Wild?!?

[Amanda was referring to the fact that as YGW turned to leave, a kick
between the legs from Kidd took the former world champion down. After
peeling themselves up off the mat, Landis and Kidd took their
frustrations out on Wild and among other things left him lying with a
spike piledriver. Landis also made sure to spit on the still
unconscious
Borders, and the two members of the Pride limped to the back.]

GH: The Pride will try to do absolutely everything it can to stack the
deck in it's favor!

AW: This should feel like old times for Youth Gone Senile, he always
got
battered around by the Pride like a pinata in the nineties. Everything
old is new again... except Wild. Heh.

[The camera cuts to the Air Canada Centre's backstage area. Here, we
find
Erik Grimsson sitting on a stack of crates, skimming over a Metal Edge
magazine. Ready for action tonight, the Detroit native wears a pair of
ripped white jeans with skulldesigns printed on them, a black "Saxon-
Broken Heroes" longsleevet-shirt, black Nike amateur wrestling shoes,
and
a pair of leather shinpads, the one on the right leg sporting a large
iron cross and the one on the left sporting the Norse pagan symbol of
Thor's hammer. He finishes this off with his long, blonde hair worn
down
and straight to the middle of his back and with both hands heavily
wrapped in white tape. As Erik looks over his magazine, his brother
Chad
approaches him. Like his brother, Chad, too, is ready for the match,
dressed in a pair of torn blue jeans with black leather chaps covering
them, a white wifebeater with a red anarchy sign spray painted on the
front, a pair of black engineer boots, and both hands wrapped in white
tape. Chad walks up to his unknowing brother and folds his arms.]

Chad: Hey man, what's going on?

Erik: [Looking up] Oh, hey dude. Just getting ready for our match.
Can't
wait to fight with those guys again.

Chad: Yeah, me neither, speaking of which, what the hell possessed you
to
do what you did on SNR?

Erik: You mad?

Chad: Mad? Hell no I'm not mad. If there's a better way to ensure that
we
get that rematch, I can't think of it. You managed to offer the perfect
type of match and get them really pissed off to boot, ensuring they'd
accept the challenge. It was surprisingly brilliant.

[Erik looks up in shock at hearing this.]

Erik: Really?!

Chad: [Nodding] Yeah.

Erik: Wow. No one's ever said that anything I thought of was brilliant.
But anyway, I was meaning to ask you what this Irons guy we're teaming
with is like. I heard you met him with Sonya.

Chad: [Shrugs] To be honest, he came off as pretty candyassed to me.
For
a guy who calls himself the war machine, he certainly whined a lot
about
the risks that I could potentially put him in.

Erik: Really? Then why'd you leave Sonya with him looking after her?

Chad: [Shrugs] She trusts him and I trust her judgement. Besides, he
ended up agreeing to it.

Erik: Well, maybe he'll surprise you, dude. I guess we can only hope.

Chad: Yes, we can. Well, if nothing else, I'm sure Trey DaMann will
keep
him busy enough and out of our business, which is fine by me. All I
want
out of this match is another crack at Serge and Caliban.

Erik: [Nodding] No disagreements on that. My only question now is what
do
we do about this whole mess with Alex. Ever since we lost the tag
belts,
he hasn't talked to me. What about you?

[Chad thinks this over for a minute.]

Chad: Me neither. And you know what? To hell with him.

[Erik gives Chad a puzzled look.]

Erik: Dude, to hell with him?

Chad: Don't get me wrong, he's still our friend. But we were the tag
champions and what we did was our decision to make, not his. We don't
duck or run from anybody, period. And if he wants to act like this
about
it, well, he can go [MEEP] himself.

Erik: [Nodding] Yeah, that's kind of how I felt about it, bro. He's
been
acting like a real asshole lately.

Chad: Well, we'll worry about that later. You ready?

Erik: Yeah. Let's do this.

[Erik jumps down from the crates and he and Chad head down the hallway
as
the camera cuts back to the broadcasters.]

AW: I guess nobody told them their partner's a cripple.

GH: Amanda!
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DEBUT:
Hands of Death & Trey DaMann versus Sons of Cacophony & Corey Irons
........................................................................

[Trey made his way out first to the ring, gloating about taking care of
Corey Irons. Then as soon as the Hands of Death made their own way out,
Trey fled to the outside of the ring and kept as much distance as he
could from Serge and Caliban, who outside of dark stares at their
partner
completely ignored him. The Sons of Cacophony arrived next to a huge
ovation from the crowd, and Sonya Benedict walked out with the former
tag
team champions. The Grimssons made a straight beeline for the HoD and
began to exchange punches with them immediately, all four men soon
finding themselves in a wild brawl on the floor as DaMann rolled into
the
ring to avoid the whole situation.]

GH: Oh great, look at DaMann in there with that grin on his face. I
don't think this match could have gone any better for him.

AW: Well, he's a brilliant guy.

GH: That's not what I-

# GRRRRONNG! #

[The lights dim as the sound of a low, but sharp bell tolls... echoing
throughout the arena as the four tag team partners continue to try and
spill each other's blood.]

# GRRRRONNG #

[Again, the bell tolls...]

GH: Say it with me now... UH OH!

[The look on DaMann's face gave cause for the crowd to roar, and Corey
Irons made his way down to the ring limping on his previously-assaulted
knee. DaMann tried to cut Irons off and keep him from entering the ring
but Irons tripped the billionaire and after climbing into the ring
started to beat Trey from cornerpost to cornerpost. Even favoring his
knee with a brace on and everything, Irons was able to hit an exploder
suplex on Trey and nearly get a pin on him.

After an extended brawl around ringside, security finally managed to
break up the two teams and get them to separate corners where Irons and
the Grimssons made a few quick tags in and out to keep DaMann off his
feet. But Erik got caught with a flying bodypress off the top rope and
DaMann turned it into a backbreaker to finally stem the tide, and used
his size advantage to hit a powerbomb on Erik before dragging him to
his
corner. At which point, with a grasp on Erik and Trey going to tag out,
he finally noticed the hardened trademark claws of and let out a loud
scream: "What the F[BLEEP] are those?!?" Letting go of Erik, the
smaller
man was able to lunge to his own corner and tag out to bigger brother
Chad. DaMann tried to go for Chad's knee like the previous week, but
this time the Pit Monster wouldn't let anything stop him from
throttling
DaMann.

Extremely irritated as they watched Trey, the Hands took matters into
their own hands and as a tandem stormed the ring, grabbing Chad and
slamming him spinefirst into the corner to lay in repeated elbowsmashes
and headbutts until Erik flew in for the rescue and caught Serge with a
flying kamikaze clothesline to knock both to the floor. Caliban and
Chad
Grimsson continued trading blows as Trey staggered to his feet and
grabbed Chad from behind with a full nelson only to be sent crashing to
the mat. Irons returned to the ring and dealt with DaMann as Erik,
after
dodging an Annis lariat on the floor grabbed a steel chair and tossed
it
up to Chad. Caliban ran straight for the Pit Monster and was blasted
straightaway in the skull with the chair, which left Caliban staggering
around, busted open across the forehead but still upright. He pounds on
his own forehead, letting the blood fly until a second chairshot across
the skull propels Caliban into the waiting arms of Corey Irons, and a
piledriver was enough to pin the Alaskan Enigma to the delight of the
crowd! DaMann rolled from the ring and headed up the aisle on his own,
as the brawl between the Grimssons and Hands continued until security
was
forced to come out again and break them up.]

DH: Here are your winners... THE TEAM OF THE SONS OF CACOOOOPHOONYYY
AND
COOOOOOOOREEEEEYY IIIIIIIIROOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNSSSS!

GH: None of them seemed too interested in this match, the Hands and the
Sons just want to settle their own score on their own terms. That
Descent into Hell is going to be a catastrophe one way or another.

We'll be back in a few minutes with tonight's main event.

[The camera opens backstage, against a white concrete wall. And
standing
against said wall, one "Agony" Michael Augustine leans, one foot up and
against the wall, arms crossed, looking into the camera with a familiar
sneer. He's ready to wrestle - black boots, black Nike trunks, black
elbowpads, black kneepads, his beaten and worn black leather jacket,
and
a black t-shirt with the word VINCE written across it in white.]

MA: So let's cut to the [BLEEP]in' chase here.

I got what I wanted. For once, Allison didn't have to go and bitch at
the bitch in charge. Signed, sealed and delivered for Gold Rush.
"Agony" Michael Augustine vs. Papa Legba.

Yeah, the [BLEEP]in' North American title is on the line too. But
anyone
who's been payin' attention the past few [BLEEP]in' weeks should
[BLEEP]in' know by now, to me, this ain't about the ten pounds of gold
currently around Legba's waist. Oh, sure, the North American title
would
make a nice [BLEEP]in' addition to the Youngblood's trophy case to go
along with Jacob's title...finally, the UWF has a Cruiserweight
champion
worth a damn.

Ain't about the [BLEEP]in' gold, though. It's about getting in the ring
and seeing just how damn good a wrestler Papa Legba is.

I ain't even surprised that you took the match, Legba. Most wrestler,
when they step into the ring with the Philadelphia Psycho, they're
scared. They're nervous. Scott Daniels, for example, so wanted to be
Michael Augustine that when he stepped into the ring against me, he was

a
wreck. Alex Extreme? Scared I'd expose him for the [BLEEP]in' fraud
that he is. Alex Extreme? Afraid I'd kick his knees out from under him
and put him on his back for the rest of his miserable life.

You, though...I didn't see any fear, Legba. Not a damn bit. And that
[BLEEP]in' intrigues me. After all my years of kicking ass here in the
UWF, only been two men who earned my respect by not showing the
slightest
bit of fear.

Victor Frost, and Papa Legba.

One I get to take on this week, while teaming up a second time with the
other for an eight-man slog. Hey, it's a chance to kick a lot of
[BLEEP]in' ass, so I can't [BLEEP]in' complain. Legba, for the first
time since you took me down, I get to get my hands on you. The Road to
the Gold doesn't [BLEEP]in' count in my mind since there were 28 other
[BLEEP]holes in that match as well and your ass got thrown over the top
rope early on. Now, though, I can finally step into the ring with you
and size you up for Gold Rush. Make no mistake, I'm taking you real
[BLEEP]in' seriously, Legba, so don't expect me to pull any punches and
save it all for the PPV. [BLEEP] the fans, I'm all about dishing it out
as often as I can. So let's see if you can actually MAKE it to Gold
Rush...but I gotta a feeling you will.

Won't be, of course, due to any help from your [BLEEP]in' teammates.
Who
the [BLEEP] did you piss off, Legba, in the front office to get saddled
with those three losers? Sabbath, the front runner for "Worst Father of
the Year," one of the Keening family...

...and no, I don't [BLEEP]in' care which one. Yeah, I beat one of em
last week, but who can tell the [BLEEP]ers apart? Every time I turn
around, there's a new one popping up. What's next, a dead one
staggeting
down the aisle? The Keening >From Beyond the Grave showing up?

Five bucks says he'd take on Vyolynce...

Oh, and Alex Extreme. I ain't got nothin' that has to be said about
that
mother[BLEEP]er I ain't said a million time before. Though I'm really
looking forward to getting my [BLEEP]in' hands on him a second time. He
got lucky a few months ago, and I'll make sure he knows just how lucky
he
got when I send him back up the aisle on a [BLEEP]in' stretcher.

Of course, my team ain't much better. Yeah, I got Victor Frost and his
bald head on my team, and I can live with that. But Chris Douglas?
Tumaffi? Jesus [BLEEP]in' Christ, I know who I pissed off in the front
office to get saddled with those two. A guy who could have been
rejected
to play James Bond and a...a..[BLEEP], what the hell IS Tumaffi
anyway?!?
One of Ryu Osawa's Pokemon toys or something? [BLEEP]!

[Augustine shakes his head as he swears violently]

MA: I mean, [BLEEP], Papa Legba, I want to kick his ass, but Tumaffi...
good LORD, did L. Dan Dee and Jigglypuff have a [BLEEP]in' kid or
something? And how the [BLEEP] do I know who Jigglypuff is?!? God
dammit!

[Augustine finally just swears one final time...]

MA: [BLEEP]!

[...and we fade out on that.

SCENE: A bathroom. "Violent" Victor Frost, dressed to the nines in a
black shirt and black dress pants, is in the process of finishing the
Windsor-Knot on a red silk tie around his neck. He seems in a good
mood.
His head is still utterly devoid of hair.]

RM: You are going out?

[The camera zooms out to reveal Roxy Mayhem leaning against the
doorway.
Her head is obscured by a "Cradle of Filth"-Hoodie.]

VF: Indeed. I have been holed up in this hotel room for a close to a
month and, quite frankly, I am fed up with it. A little trip to one of
the strip clubs should raise my spirits.

[Victor starts to whistle to himself.]

RM: Do you think that is wise? Meltdown is tomorrow and that match ...

VF: That match is a present from whatever god has decided to finally
smile on me.

[Frost straightens his tie.]

VF: Everybody I hate in the UWF will be in that ring. Alex Softcore,
the
drugged out loudmouth. Chief Keening, the holier-than-thou boyscout.
Papa Legba, the thief who still runs around with _my_ property.

And ... the Father of the Year.

[He turns to Roxy, smiling an ugly smile.]

VF: I did not dare to hope that they would put Sabbath in my way until
the PPV. Given this opportunity I can end this ... end him, on the next
day. It will feel so god to tear him apart. Hopefully, his litter and
his wife are watching when he pays for what he did to us.

Hell, I should just bring a hand grenade and blow all of them to
Kingdom
Come.

[Whistling again.]

RM: I just hope you can, like, trust your teammates.

VF: You worry too much, Roxy. Augustine may behave something that
crawled
out of the gutter, but the man is one of the very, very few in the UWF
that can fight. And while I do not care much for Old Man Douglas and
that
... that ... Toonmaffi freak, they should prove enough of a distraction
for me to finish off Sabbath or whoever comes my way.

[He walks up to Roxy and looks her in the eyes.]

VF: In 24 hours, our enemies will have suffered some more and their
laughs will die in their throats. It is as simple as that, Roxy.

[Victor turns away from her to put on a jacket.]

RM: Vic, can I, like, come with you to the club?

[Frost raises an eyebrow as he looks at her again.]

VF: No, Roxy. I ... I want to spare you the humiliation of going out,
looking like you do. We _are_ a team but this is not Halloween so
Sinead
and Kojak do not leave the house together.

[She looks down to the floor.]

RM: We have not done much together since ...

VF: And we WON'T until I have dealt with Sabbath!

[In a split-second, Frost's good mood is done as he bellows at his
valet.]

VF: I _told_ you so! First, I have to _erase_ this! Then, our lives
will
continue! THEN!

RM: I ... I ...

[Vic throws his hands up in frustration, then seems to calm down a
little.]

VF: Don't wait for me tonight, Rox.

[Without looking at her again he leaves the bathroom. Fade to black as
Roxy Mayhem sinks to the floor, pulling the hood over her face.

TUMAFFI NEEDS NO SCENE! SETTING IS FOR THE WEAK!]

Tumaffi: HEAR ME, MAINLANDERS! Again the great Tumaffi has deigned to
tolerate your existence long enough to address you, insignificant
though
you may be. For once again Tumaffi is to be surrounded by the typical
assortment of witless termites with which it is my fate to contend. And
to compound this insult with another, heaping shame upon shame, is the
insufferable fact that three of these mainlander fools have been termed
my "teammates"! TUMAFFI DOES NOT NEED TEAMMATES! Tumaffi recognizes
only two classes of people in battle: Tumaffi's enemies which he will
surely destroy, and unsuspecting bystanders which he will probably also
destroy!

Tumaffi has, of course, heard these witless termites complain in kind,
saying they do not wish to team with Tumaffi. Tumaffi is not insulted
by
this; indeed, it is wisdom, for what man can approach the great Tumaffi
and be assured that he will indeed live? Nonetheless, perhaps Tumaffi
will spare their lives once I have utterly annihilated my substandard
competition. It may be that once Tumaffi has singlehandedly crushed all
resistance from his inferiors that I will be satisfied. Tumaffi
supposes
that this will depend on whether or not I am forced to listen to any of
them speak. If there are two things Tumaffi cannot stand, they are
longwinded people, hypocrites, and people who cannot count.

Therefore Tumaffi will focus on his prey, and the elaborate forms of
extermination to be exacted on them all! First will Tumaffi speak of
the
one foe who is, at the very least, not a mainlander as the rest of my
spineless adversaries to date have been! It would greatly please
Tumaffi
to face an islander in combat, and thus be afforded some semblance of
competition. This Papa Legba is not, however, a true islander! He hails
from the barely-floating Carribean "islands", which as we are all aware
are not REAL islands, being as they are in a sea and not an ocean.
Samoans and our Polynesian brothers would be embarrassed indeed to be
lumped in with Jamaicans, Haitians, Cubans, and the other fake
islanders.
Nonetheless, though this Legba is only a quasi-islander, this still
makes
him many times more formidable than a mainlander. Therefore Tumaffi
must
take him very seriously, despite his ridiculous nature, lest he may
strike Tumaffi with almost three offensive moves before Tumaffi
overwhelmed him with sheer raw animalistic force, as is inevitable.
When
Tumaffi has finished pummeling this Legba, should indeed he survive, he
will be justified in referring to himself as "I-an-I", for that is what
he will see when he looks in a mirror.

Of the lesser competition in the match, Tumaffi has even less regard.
Did not Tumaffi convincingly demonstrate that he is many times the
master
of that weak-kneed buffoon Sabbath? Tumaffi has heard the voices of
those that would attempt to discredit him breathing lies, that Tumaffi
triumphed due to interference! When these fools speak these things,
they
speak against their own lives! Tumaffi easily crushed Sabbath with no
assistance of any kind! And now what prevents Tumaffi from doing so yet
again? Sabbath has no hope amongst the clouds or the stones, that he
may
prevail against me.

And are any number of Keenings any match for the awe-inspiring power of
the great Tumaffi? Though they are as numerous as grass in a field, yet
Tumaffi is able to mow them all down! What hope, then, does Jason
Keening alone have for survival? Is he not the most formidible amongst
the Keening clan? As such, once he is reduced to a dessicated husk,
Tumaffi will no longer be obligated to endure the self-righteous drivel
that these miniscule insects spew in all directions. Need I more motive
than that alone?

Finally, Tumaffi will speak of Alex Extreme. For this laughable
cockroach has to this day somehow survived despite every effort to rid
the world of his stench. Tumaffi wonders, then, how it is that this
mainlander dupe cannot coexist with the other mainlander dupe Keening,
for both etch out a cockroach-like existence which should have been
terminated many times over. Should not Tumaffi finish what life in
general has begun? For if Alex Extreme suffers injury after injury at
the hands of mere mainlanders, what hope has he against the peerless
power of the mighty Tumaffi?

Even as Tumaffi has spoken of the futility of his undermanned
opposition,
I have come to realize why the other three mainlanders have been given
to
Tumaffi as so-called "teammates". It may come to pass that one of these
bumbling simpletons will grow so weary of his life that he may impede
the
inexpugnable onslaught of the all-powerful Tumaffi by muddling in my
affairs in the usual bungling mainlander fashion. This may give
Tumaffi's doomed adversaries the opportunity to flee for their wretched
lives as Tumaffi summarily executes the "teammate" in question. Tumaffi
is led to believe that this is somehow "good for ratings". Tumaffi is
also told that sheer unimaginable violence is "good for ratings". In
that light, Tumaffi expects that the mainlander jellyfish who
ostensiably
control this operation will be pleased indeed at the ratings bonanza
which Tumaffi is about to inflict on anyone with whom Tumaffi is even
remotely displeased.

That is all.

[TUMAFFI NEEDS NO CUTS OR FADES EITHER! IN SAMOA, WHEN WE HAVE SEGUES,
WE INFLICT INTERMINABLE VIOLENCE ON EVERYTHING IN SIGHT UNTIL THE SEGUE
IS MADE! TUMAFFI WILL SHOW YOU HOW TO 'FADE TO BLACK' WHEN TUMAFFI
WIPES
YOUR EYEBALLS OFF OF YOUR FACE WITH HIS PALM! THAT IS ALL!]

[We fade away from ringside to the backstage area of the Air Canada
Center, the locker room area to be specific, where we find "The Walking
Contradiction," Sabbath, leaning back against a wall, his legs propped
up
on his guitar case, the actual instrument in his hand as he
absentmindedly picks a tune on the Martin acoustic.

The camera crew's presence doesn't seem to bother him as he winds his
way
through a walking blues riff, but the sharp click of approaching
footsteps seems to jar him from his reverie, as he sets the guitar
aside,
a half smile lighting up his face.]

Sabbath: Hey babe.

[The greeting is for none other than his wife, Sayaka Daikin-Price,
who enters stage left, tossing her leather jacket on the bench beside
her
husband.]

Sayaka: Hey sweetie... relaxing before the big match?

[Sabby nods affirmatively, leaning back against the wall again, arms
behind his head.]

Sayaka: You look like you're in a good mood. Any particular reason?

[Still smirking, Sabby nods.]

Sabbath: Easy... tonight I get a little taste of Frost... kinda an
appetizer, y'know? That smug piece of crap is going to learn to take me
seriously... especially after what happened to him last week... poor
l'il
fella.

[Sayaka chuckles at the thought of a bald Frost.]

Sabbath: I swear, I don't think I've ever seen anyone with as big a
head
on their shoulders... and I remember Rick Styles fer Chrissakes!

Sayaka: Amazing someone does.

Sabbath: Damn, babe, that's cold.

[Sabby tsks his giggling wife.]

Sabbath: Still... it'll be good to team up with Jason again... although
after our little chat last week, I'm wary about being in the ring with
both him and Alex. I don't know if those two can peacefully coexist at
this point. I hope and pray they've got the professionalism to keep
their differences out of this match.

[The raven haired warrior frowns slightly at the idea, then shrugs.]

Sabbath: Little too late to worry about that now, though, eh? I know
we've got a good team. Legba, Jason, and Alex are all good guys that I
can trust to watch my back. For me though it's just about making it to
Gold Rush... I'll split that bald bastard's head open again if I have
to.

Sayaka: God, you're moody. I swear, any more mood swings from you and
I'd swear you were on a monthly cycle or something... I don't know
women
as moody as you are.

[Sayaka raises an eyebrow as her husband gives her a f*** you look.]

Sayaka: Don't even give me that... you know it's true. Ask anybody in
the locker room... they'll agree with me. And you bitched when I was
pregnant.

[Sabby shakes his head, smiling at his wife.]

Sayaka: C'mon, darlin', we gotta get you ready... enough of this
jibber-jabber.

[Sabby nods.]

Sabbath: Agreed... I wanna get loosened up for this... this is gonna
be... explosive, to say the least.

[Removing his feet from the case, he tucks the instrument safely away,
then slings the whole thing over his shoulder as he gets to his feet.
As
the couple walks off camera, we can hear the Contradiction ask his
wife...]

Sabbath: ... am I really that moody?

Sayaka: Yes.

Sabbath: ........ do they really talk about me backstage?

Sayaka: *sigh* Yes.

[And pause.]

Sabbath: ..... damn. Oh well.

[And with that, we fade back to ringside.]
__ __ _ _ _
| \/ |___| | |_ __| |_____ __ ___ _
.................| |\/| / -_) | _/ _' / _ \ V V / ' \.................
|_| |_\___|_|\__\__,_\___/\_/\_/|_||_|

MAIN EVENT - EIGHT MAN ELIMINATIONS MATCH:
Papa Legba, Sabbath, Jason Keening, Alex Extreme
versus
Michael Augustine, Victor Frost, Tumaffi, Chris Douglas
........................................................................

[One by one each of the eight competitors came down to ringside, and
both
sides showed some inability to properly team up right from the get go.
Extreme and Keening exchanged heated words and stood on opposite sides
of
their group, with Sabbath standing uneasily in between them trying to
calm both men down and Papa Legba focused only on Augustine from across
the ring. Staring back at them is Tumaffi, beating his chest and
hollering at the top of his lungs while Chris Douglas eyes his
opponents
from the outside apron. Meanwhile Frost ran a hand over his shaven
scalp
and pointed at Sabbath with venom in his eyes, and Augustine looked
totally unimpressed at his own partners, especially the gigantic one
still yelling and carrying on.

Tumaffi was elected to start the match off for his team, going against
Jason Keening as Extreme rolled his eyes and made a comment about the
"boyscout" under his breath. Trying at first to match power was a
mistake as Tumaffi threw Jason back with ease and elbowed him into a
corner for repeated shots. Keening tried to turn the tide with a
standing dropkick, and as he bounced off the ropes a blind tag by
Extreme
let Mr. Excitement into the match with a top rope dropkick that knocked
Tumaffi backwards but not off his feet. However it did lead to an
argument with Keening, and the two began to shove each other as Tumaffi
stood back:

"TUMAFFI WILL NOT BE IGNORED!"

A double clothesline took the two fan favorites off their feet, and as
Keening left the ring Alex was scooped up on the shoulder of the big
man
and drilled with a snake eyes in the corner, leaving him dazed and in
serious trouble as Tumaffi came in for the charge, only to be saved as
Sabbath ran the length of the apron and flung Extreme out of the way
with
an irish whip of sorts. Unfortunately as he bounced off the far rope
Frost also ran the length of the apron and nearly beheaded Alex with a
crooked-arm lariat. The booing of the crowd caused Frost to launch into
a tirade at the audience, and then turned his attention to Roxy and
ordered her to stand further back at ringside.]

GH: Does he have to embarrass the poor woman at every turn? He already
forced her to shave her head... wait a minute, why am I feeling sorry
for
Roxy Mayhem?

AW: You have a thing for bald chicks?

[Tumaffi continued to smash and bash his opponents one by one, as
Extreme
eventually tagged out to Sabbath and the Walking Contradiction didn't
fare much better against the four hundred pounder although he did get
Tumaffi teetering with a series of sharp kneelifts. Then as Legba
entered the ring he stood toe to toe with Tumaffi and exchanged
punches,
but once again Tumaffi was able to hold strong. Of course then
Augustine
got ticked off and slapped him across the back as he came close to the
corner and brought himself into the match, earning Tumaffi's complete
and
total hatred:

"TUMAFFI WILL NOT FORGET THIS, TINY MAN!"]

GH: Makes friends wherever he goes, doesn't he?

AW: Which one are you talking about?

GH: Does it matter?

[Augustine entered the ring and lashed out against Papa Legba, the two
having a fiery showdown that ended with a double clothesline that put
them both down. Always one to take advantage, Chris Douglas snuck into
the ring as Extreme tried to charge in as well, slapping on a cobra
clutch to Legba to leave him semi-conscious on the mat with Extreme and
even the Mercenary at ringside yelling for the referee to do his job.
Augustine, unappreciative of Douglas and his submission hold, shoved
him
back to the corner which ultimately gave Legba the opening to tag out
to
Sabbath...]

Tumaffi: "WILL YOU EVER ACCOMPLISH ANYTHING OTHER THAN ABJECT
FUTILITY?!"

Augustine: "WILL YOU EVER SHUT THE [BLEEP] UP?!"

Tumaffi: "NO. *ahem* TUMAFFI IS AMUSED BY YOUR TOTAL FAILURE TO PERFORM
EVEN THE SMALLEST ACT OF RESISTANCE!"

[Augustine was then spun around and caught by Sabbath with a backfist,
staggering the Youngblood right into a tag into the match by Douglas.
Chris began to technically dissect Sabbath, running him into the mat
with
a textbook vertical suplex before trying for a cover. He continued to
try and work Sabbath down for the cobra clutch, but trying for a
moonsault proved to be his undoing as Sabbath caught him mid-flight,
whipped him around and planted Douglas with an Emerald Frosion driver
to
make Mr. Main Event the first casualty of the match.]

DH: CHRIS DOUGLAS HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!

[Frost slid into the ring and grabbed Sabbath before he could return to
his feet, attacking his rival and pounding him into the corner, turning
Sabbath upside down and going to town with a bevy of knees to the face.
Frost unleashed hell upon Sabbath but was unable to stop him from
tagging
out after a Shining Wizard out of nowhere, and in stepped Jason Keening
once again. Frost and Keening traded wrestling moves for a little while
until Frost ventured too close to the ropes and was tagged on the back
by
Tumaffi again, and soon Jason was again absorbing massive blows to the
back. This time he was able to rattle Tumaffi's cage with an
elbowstrike, and then as the crowd gasped he went for a bodyslam...]

AW: No friggin' way.

GH: I don't think that's going to- ALEX EXTREME IN WITH A SPRINGBOARD
DROPKICK INTO JASON KEENING'S BACK! Keening's down on top of Tumaffi!

[A two count later, Jason and Alex were back in each other's faces as
Extreme demanded that Keening thank him for the assist with a smirk on
his face. Once more Sabbath stepped in to break up the tension, but in
the confusion Tumaffi grabbed Jason and caught him with a chokeslam so
vicious he bounced a foot off the mat before the count of three.]

DH: JASON KEENING HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!

[Taking advantage of Tumaffi off his feet, all three fan favorites
stormed the ring suddenly and began to lay in kicks on the big man as
Frost and Augustine argued amongst themselves who would go in for the
save. In the end, neither did as Tumaffi was able to absorb a running
shoulderblock from Legba and actually knocked him from the ring
instead.
Extreme tried to come off the top with a flying elbow, but Frost
quickly
knocked into him and sent Alex crashing hard into the ring as the ref
admonished Frost. This got Victor angry, yelling at Roxy for not
distracting him long enough...

And Allison Ivey suddenly responded by pulling Frost off of the apron
by
the foot, yelling at him and telling the German warrior to lay the hell
off of his manager and verbally tearing him a new one. In response,
Frost grabbed Allison and went to strike her, drawing Augustine off the
apron as Ivey caught Frost with a kick to the crotch! Inside the ring,
Tumaffi grabbed Alex and with the Polynesian Burial scored a three
count,
cutting his opposition down to two men left.]

DH: ALEX EXTREME HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!

GH: My god, Tumaffi's gone through half of the other team now!

AW: And Quesada wants that guy WHY?

GH: Well Frost just got lowballed by Allison on the outside, I don't
think Tumaffi's team is in any better shape than the other side!

[Augustine, with anger flashing in his eyes directed his anger at his
own
manager...

"You don't hit a man in the [BLEEP]in' crotch, Allison!"

Then he turned around and DECKED Frost!

"You punch him in the face."

As the two Youngbloods put the boots to Frost, Tumaffi watched the
partnership crumble and yelled out at Augustine:

"TUMAFFI IS EMBARRASSED BY YOUR EXECRABLE PERFORMANCE!"]

GH: This is utterly insane! There's more issues going on in this match
than I can keep track of!

[With Augustine and Frost out on the floor ignoring the match for a
moment, Tumaffi was doubleteamed by Sabbath and Legba for a time but
not
even that slowed down the big man at first, as his skull proved to be a
little too hard and caused pain to Legba's knee instead. Shortly after
though with the positions reversed, a knee from Sabbath into Tumaffi's
back slowed down the Polynesian wrestler.

Augustine and Frost got into a bit of a scuffle out of the ring, but
eventually returned to the apron albeit standing quite far apart. And
at
the right time, Augustine reached into the ring and caught Legba across
the back of the neck with a clubbing blow. Legba, thoroughly dazed by
the obviously loaded wrist tape, walked right into a double choke lift
by
Tumaffi, who then drove the North American Champion into the canvas
with
great force. Fully expecting the cover, Tumaffi was shocked as
Augustine
suddenly grabbed him and pulled him off of Legba, picked up the
Jamaican
and hit the Soul Breaker before going for the pinfall himself. Tumaffi
stared with derision...

...and leapt into the air, splashing not only Legba but Augustine as
well
with a ringshaking splash! Ordering the referee to count the pileup,
Legba was soon taken out of the match to the anger of the crowd.]

DH: PAPA LEGBA HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!

GH: It's Sabbath by himself! Sabbath is all alone against Tumaffi,
Frost
and August- SABBATH LIFTS AUGUSTINE UP... SPINNING SABBY DRIVER! ONE!
TWO! THREE!

DH: MICHAEL AUGUSTINE HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!

[Now the crowd roared as it got behind the Walking Contradiction,
staring
down with Tumaffi as Frost suddenly entered the ring and tried to spear
Sabbath only to be sidestepped into the corner. Tumaffi caught Sabbath
though and with a Samoan drop drove him into the mat, but still Sabbath
was able to kick out of the pin. Frost headed to the second turnbuckle
as Tumaffi lifted a limp Sabbath up and set up for a powerbomb, but
Frost
caught him with an elevated clothesline first. Tumaffi and Frost began
to argue loudly over who would finish off Sabbath, and as a result
Sabby
was able to mount a comeback with a rear naked choke from behind on
Tumaffi...

...taking the giant's air and bringing him to the mat as the crowd
exploded! Frost tried to kick Sabbath in the head but found himself
dragonwhipped to the mat, and Sabbath locked in a scorpion deathlock
attempting to make Frost tap out. Tumaffi though, after a short time to
regain his balance, grabbed Sabbath and threw him shoulder-first into
the
corner and then slammed him to the mat.]

GH: I- Oh god, Tumaffi's headed up the ropes!

TUMAFFI IS HEADED TO THE TOP ROPE!

AW: TUMAFFISAULT~! TUMAFFISAULT~!

GH: FROST TRIPPED HIS OWN PARTNER, AND TUMAFFI FALLS BACK... LANDS ON
TOP
OF SABBATH! WHAT UTTER CARNAGE!

[Squashed by the impact, Sabbath offered little defense as Frost
scooped
him up quickly and drove him down with a Death Valley Driver into the
mat, scoring the three and ending the match to seething boos from the
crowd.]

DH: Here are your winners, and survivors of this match...

TUUUUUUUMAFFIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND
VIIIIIIIIIIIICTOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRR FRRRRRRRRROOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST!

GH: Good god, what a match! What a main event! We're out of time, see
you this weekend at the Brawl From The Mall!

[Fade to black.]