<UWF> Saturday Night Rampage (hour 2)
Cygnia
UWF
Cruiserweight champion and current member of Don't Go There
"Nighthawk"
Michael Bonn. The Nighthawk appears to be by himself for a change
(or just like old times for those feeling nostalgic), but he just nods
curtly at the camera.]
BONN: I'm not one for big speeches.
[He shrugs.]
BONN: I've done some...questionable things in my time here. Some of
them
I even regret. But the one thing that no one can ever fault me for is
that every opportunity I had here in the UWF, I worked hard for and
earned it. No coming in off the street and coasting on another fed's
name, no politicking to suddenly vault up the ladder for the gold.
Like
a Kinsey...
[A look of distaste crosses Michael's face, but he shakes his head and
it's gone.]
BONN: I could be bitter. But as I said, everything I've ever done...
everything I've ever accomplished in the UWF, _for_ the UWF, I've
busted
my ass for on my own terms. I don't intend to change now, especially
with the Heavyweight belt on the line tonight.
That, I'll never regret.
[And now, is that a small smile appearing on the Nighthawk's face
now?]
BONN: Beside...who better to unify the UWF Heavyweight title with One
Winged Angel's belt than the man who held the UWF Cruiserweight
Championship the longest?
[Stepping into the shot now is a lovely, yet familiar-looking woman,
though one who hasn't graced the UWF airwaves for quite some time.
Virginia St. Ursula, longtime manager of the Nighthawk and now current
manager of DGT, is smiling herself as she takes her charge by the arm
and
nods.]
VSU: Well said, Michael, well said.
[Fade out.]
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04-28-07
Hour
Two
[Dissolve back into Madison Square Garden as a short chant of "Bonn!
Bonn! Bonn!" breaks out, and we settle down on the announce team once
again.]
DR: Welcome back everybody, we're still reeling here over the
revelation
that Jessica Marshall has now a third person working for her. Madison
Valentine and Colby Greene were big enough shocks to be aligned and
managed by Fatality, but we just saw who we can assume is the same
masked
man from the past several weeks jump out of the crowd and join in the
assault on John Shock and Alex Kidd!
AM: Before tonight I would have bet you any amount of money that the
masked guy was either Greene or Valentine. But now... my god. Who
else
does that girl have under her spell?
DR: I don't know Amy, but it's obvious that she's not afraid of making
enemies. Alex Kidd has been dealing with this contingent for weeks
now,
and it appears that John Shock is the latest person to draw Jessica's
ire.
AM: Fatality doesn't care who she has to step on to reach her goals,
that's nothing new.
SS: Oh the woman loves power, pure and simple. You can't fault her
for
that.
DR: Perhaps we can't, but pretty soon half the roster will be able to.
Fans, we've still got three high octane matches coming up including
the
first title defense of Luke Kinsey, taking on "Nighthawk" Michael Bonn
in
our main event.
AM: Yeah, and if Kinsey is thinking this is going to be a walk in the
park he better go back and revisit recent history. Bonn's a two-time
Cruiserweight Champion and is still one of the most talented singles
wrestlers on the roster.
SS: But the guy's been neutered by this tag team with Osawa. He's a
shell of his former self, has been ever since he betrayed the New Era.
DR: Need I remind you where we'd be if he hadn't 'betrayed' them? You
do
remember Marshall Law, right?
SS: Of course I do, and I wouldn't wish that upon anyone again. But
the
point is the same, this isn't the same Bonn who would have stepped
over
his own mother for a championship.
AM: Maybe not, but we just found out this _IS_ the same Michael Bonn
that'll have Virginia St. Ursula in his corner for this match. I
guess
Virginia's banishment has finally been lifted!
DR: And perhaps just in time for one of the biggest upsets we've ever
seen. Regardless, Luke had better take every title defense as
seriously
as he took the path to get to the top.
[We cut to the backstage area where a makeshift office for the
"Metroplex
Broadcast Consulting" group has been setup. It more or less equals to
a
supply closet but when you're on the road, you take what you can get.
Outside this office, scattered amidst all the brooms, mops and
cleaning
supplies there stands a sign that reads MBC. Our cameras zoom inside
the
office to find the thrown together setup, consisting of a card table
and
laptop computer. Behind this "desk" sits outside consultant to the UWF
"The Doomsayer" Kyle Lee.]
KL: Let's see... highly toxic. Not legal in Canada and two of the
United
States.
[For whatever reason, he's got his feet propped up on the table and is
reading the ingredients off a bottle of industrial strength cleaner.]
KL: No wait... four United States.
[And from off camera, someone calls to him...]
Female Voice: Mr. Lee, someone is here to see you.
[Lee drops his feet to the floor and quickly straightens it up before
his
first consultee walks in.]
KL: Send him in.
CI: Fancy setup...
[The "Extreme War Machine" Corey Irons, complete with his trademark
black
leather jacket, ripped jeans, and his long, wavy brown hair hanging
down
his back.]
CI: You've been absent a long time, Kyle...
I have to admit, I figured it was some farce when you said that your
door
was open for business.
Oh, and by the way, if that cleaner was illegal in Canada, there
wouldn't
be a French section on that label you're reading...
[Lee looks back to the bottle.]
KL: Well you know bureaucracy. Have to have labels on everything just
to
make it a pain in the ass.
[Lee turns back around in his chair towards Irons.]
KL: What can I do for you today Mr. Irons?
[Instead of taking a seat, Irons merely stands behind the guest chair
in
front of Lee's desk.]
CI: I'm here to do a little more than waste your time, Lee. Last
time,
you spoke about your plans as a consultant to the UWF. You talked
about
wanting to show someone how to make an impact... how to raise the
bar...
...how to become "inspired..."
So tell me, Mr. illustrious, former World Heavyweight champion. What
exactly did you _mean_ by all of that?
KL: Well what inspires you? What drives you on this business? What got
you started? What do you fight for? Are you just floating around
aimlessly?
[Irons leans forward slightly, focusing intently on what Lee has to
say.]
CI: You ask questions I'm afraid to answer, Kyle.
What _used_ to inspire me, and what I _used_ to fight for... was for
the
opportunity to make a difference. What I cared about was stepping
toe-to-toe with some of the more popular, idolized individuals on our
roster, and proving to myself that I wasn't just a part of the
supporting
cast.
Only problem is... I can't seem to make it that far.
It wouldn't be unfair to say that Corey Irons can't seem to _solve_
where
he belongs in the UWF... so he just floats around aimlessly.
KL: Wouldn't you say that wanting to get that level is some level of
inspiration and motivation? You shouldn't be walking in expecting that
nobody will watch the match. Leaves you lackluster. And who in the
higher
levels is going to give notice to anyone that's halfassing it?
[Lee leans back in his chair.]
KL: Even if it's against Job Holly or God forbid the Doomsday Chicken
you
got to concentrate just on that match. Face them like you'd face a
World
Champion. I know it sounds like generic bull but it makes sense right?
[Irons pulls the guest chair out of the way, and steps towards Lee's
desk.]
CI: Well, the Doomsday Chicken made more money selling his costume on
ebay than he did actually being on your _payroll_.
And while I understand the point you're making, I can't exactly say I
agree. It was a former World champion that put me on the sidelines for
a
long while, a few years back. Job Holly couldn't get the three count
if
you put a shotgun in his hands and told him he could use it in the
ring.
Personally, I think the problem is that the promoters have their noses
too far up other people's asses to even notice I'm on the roster. So
it
is really because I'm halfassing it? Or am I just a really unlucky
guy?
Personally, I'd call it the latter.
KL: So you're just going to blame somebody else? And settle in on
that?
[Irons takes a step back, as his eyes shoot wide open. The question
strikes deep.]
CI: I... wait, so what I'm hearing from you is that this attitude is
gonna get me nowhere.
KL: You can only say "Down with the Man!" so many times before the Man
doesn't do much to help you up. You don't have to be a suck up company
man. Take care of yourself. Don't worry about anybody up high.
CI: Worrying about those "up high..." I been doin' it for years.
[He stops to think for a moment, gathering his thoughts before further
responding to Lee's comments.]
CI: It's a hard habit to break.
Tell ya what, Kyle. I'll do what you just said, and see what comes my
way. Got nothing to lose anyway.
I think that'll be all for this week.
[Irons turns for the door, but stops as if he forgot something.]
CI: One more thing...
[He reaches for an inner pocket within his jacket, and pulls out a
bottle. He tosses it towards Lee.]
CI: I appreciate the talk. Hope you like Jack Daniels.
[Looks over the bottle and smiles.]
KL: I'm more of a Dr. Pepper man. But I know a certain redhead who
can't
get enough of it.
[He smiles and sets the bottle proudly on his desk.]
KL: I think you'll do okay Mr. Irons. We all get into funks. You'll be
out of yours soon enough.
CI: Thank you for your time, Kyle.
[And with that, Irons heads out of the consultant's office. Irons
exits
Lee's office, and heads down the hallway, but a woman's voice calls
after
him.]
V: Hey, Corey!
[And the owner of that voice steps on-scene.
"Twilight Angel" Sonya Benedict.
She's dressed for battle though none is scheduled: a short-sleeved hot
pink "KOKORO: Pure Heart Combat" t-shirt, fine fishnets underneath
that,
and forest green camouflage shorts. She rounds out her gear with
black
kneepads and boots, with turquoise laces on the boots. The UWF
Women's
North American title belt is draped over her right shoulder. Her long
black hair, complete with the small pink streak, falls straight down
her
back. She takes a few more steps towards Irons as he stops and turns
toward her.]
CI: Sonya!
[A shocked, but joyful look forms on his face.]
CI: You look... _different_.
[He tries to make the sarcasm obvious, and pads a palm over the brass
on
her shoulder.]
CI: Did you put on a few pounds? I thought I told you to watch your
diet.
[He snickers.]
SB: [teasing him back] Very funny, smartass.
[She readjusts the belt on her shoulder.]
SB: Though I didn't expect this to be as heavy as it is. [smiles]
Not
that it bothers me any, but still...
CI: It fits like a glove.
[He places a hand against the wall next to him, and leans slightly.]
CI: So which way you headed?
[Sonya hooks a thumb behind her to the door Irons just came out of.]
SB: In there, actually. Got a few things to run by the new boss.
[Irons nods, and gestures towards the door.]
CI: Good idea. Just came outta there myself. Lee gave me a lot of
things to think about...
[A look of curiosity seems to cross Sonya's face.]
SB: Oh yeah? Like what?
CI: Well you know, just figured I'd get some free counseling. Lee
seems
to know how this outfit here works, so may as well probe the
professor's
brain a little.
[Sonya folds her arms across her chest, and over the belt still on her
shoulder.]
SB: Since when have you needed advice? Seems to me you've done just
fine
without it.
[Irons shrugs, then places his hands on his sides.]
CI: Well I haven't exactly been making waves around here. Got nothing
to
lose now. Besides, not everyone has a belt sitting around their
waist...
right?
[He turns, such that his back now faces her. And that seems to get
under
her skin some. She reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder - to
which Irons turns back around to face her.]
SB: Don't give me that. These things take time. You know that better
than anybody.
[She then smiles a bit in an effort to lighten the mood a bit for her
next sentence.]
SB: And quit looking for sympathy, damnit, 'cause you deserve much
more
than that. You deserve respect. So go out there and earn it.
[Irons takes a step towards her.]
CI: Who said anything about sympathy? And the whole respect deal is a
part of my plan, Sonya.
Just trust me, it'll be for the best.
[He chuckles.]
CI: Now, go be a doll, get in the ring and kick someone's ass, okay?
[Sonya doesn't have a match tonight.]
SB: [half joking] Oh, so you're dismissing me now, huh? I see how it
is.
CI: I didn't say anything about dismissing you, Sonya. I just think
Lee's the perfect guy to be asking these questions to. That's all.
SB: Well, can't say I think you need the help. But all that matters
is
that you follow your gut instincts about what's best for you.
CI: Okay Sonya, duly noted.
Let me know what Lee has to say to you when you go in there.
[Sonya nods in agreement.]
SB: Will do. Catch you later?
CI: Yeah... will do.
[And with that, Corey walks off and Sonya turns for the door behind
her.
Fade.]
SS: Great, now Lee's morphed into some kind of guru everyone goes to
spill their guts to.
DR: Well, he clearly has the ear of the company's owners as the head
of
Metroplex Broadcast Consulting. And Corey Irons is an up and coming
star
here, why wouldn't he want to hear what a former heavyweight champion
of
the world has to say?
SS: General principle?
[Cut to outside the arena. Here we find "Dead End" Derek Martin
leaning
up against the wall, the lights highlighting him just enough. Martin
is
already dressed in his wrestling attire.
He notices the camera is upon him.]
DM: Wondering why I'm staying out here and not inside the arena.
None of your business.
[He scowls.]
DM: But, I'm assuming you all want to hear what I have to say about my
match tonight?
[A shrug.]
DM: What the hell... and I'll get to the point. I'm well aware of Alex
Martinez's reputation... I'm well aware of his accomplishments... and
I'll give the devil his due, he's one tough SOB.
In a nutshell, he is what they say he is... a legend.
That being said... legends are exactly the type of people I live for
bringing down.
[A nod.]
DM: Martinez, I hope you aren't thinking that I'm just going to be
your
means of getting yourself back into World title contention. That ain't
gonna happen at my expense.
What's gonna happen, Martinez, is I plan on bringing you down just
like
I've brought down the other legends they've thrown against me.
Nah, it ain't for the fact that I'll put myself in World title
contention. It's simply because it's what I do... it's what I enjoy
doing... and it'll make me feel better.
[A chuckle.]
DM: And as far as the Samoan genetic freak goes... his time will come
soon enough. I'd say he should take notes tonight, but he's too damn
illiterate to know how to do that. He can feel quite fortunate that he
got his hand raised last Rampage, but only because I had to carry dead
weight around. And that didn't make me very happy.
But tonight... it's my opportunity to bring a legend down.
[A slight smile.]
DM: And that will make me happy.
[Fade out. Black hair hangs over an angry face that's covered with
scars. Alex Martinez stares into the camera, and one can see the
tension
in the Last American Badass. He has the look of a cobra, poised to
strike.]
AM: Derek Martin...
There ain't never been a jackass with a better nickname than you.
'Cuz you're about to come to your dead end.
[A hand swipes the hair out of his face, and Alex Martinez exhales a
long
breath.]
AM: You and I don't know each other, and I ain't never bothered to get
to
know anythin' 'bout ya. But that don't make any difference to me. If I
only beat the hell outta people I knew... well, hell, there'd be a
whole
hell of a lot fewer asses I've kicked.
I don't need to know ya to hurt ya.
All I need to know about ya Martin, is that you're steppin' into the
ring
with me. And you standin' on the other side of the ring is the only
cause
I need for hatin' your guts. Each breath ya take is offensive to me.
So I'm gonna put a stop to it.
Some people are gonna say this is 'bout me provin' myself. 'Bout me
goin'
back to my winnin' ways, 'bout puttin' myself back into contention for
the title. Well, Derek Marin, lemme tell ya somethin'...
Some people are full of crap.
What I'm interested in right now Martin, is hurtin' you. Is feelin'
your
blood runnin' between my fingers. Those other things? Yeah, they're
great. But I can get 'em by hurtin' you. And hurtin' people is my
business. And business, as they say, is good.
[The Last American Badass is quiet for a moment, thinking about his
next
words.]
AM: Wrestlin' is 'bout only one thing for me. Provin' I'm the best by
hurtin' everyone put in my way. I ain't gonna lie, I damn sure want my
title back. But jumpin' up and down and bitchin' 'bout it ain't gonna
make that happen.
It happens one ass kickin' at a time.
And you're first Martin.
So bring everythin' ya got Dead End. Bring it all. But understand one
thing. Against me?
Your best just ain't gonna cut it.
[Fade to black.]
AM: Man, this is going to be a war of attrition. Two big guys in foul
moods with nothing to lose.
DR: Indeed, it's going to be brutal. We haven't seen Martinez since
he
lost the world title, by all accounts he's going to be ready to rip
someone's head off. And rumor has it Derek Martin may be next in line
for a shot at the North American Championship, if that's the case what
better way to stake your claim officially than to try and knock off
the
former champion?
SS: What you have here is a case of one guy's career heading south,
and
another guy's taking off like a rocketship. Not a tough call to make
if
you ask me.
AM: Don't worry, nobody is.
____ ___ __ _____________
| | \/ \ / \_ _____/
S | | /\ \/\/ /| __) SATURDAY NIGHT RAMPAGE
N | | / \ / | \--------------------------
R |______/ \__/\ / \___ / Writer: Mike Beeby
\/ \/
SINGLES CONTEST:
"Dead End" Derek Martin versus "The Last American Badass" Alex
Martinez
-------------------------------------------------------
[The opening strands of "The Garden of Allah" by Don Henley kick in
over
the speakers as the arena lights dim and the Unitron shows a
black-and-white shot of a long road zipping by, and then just as the
drums to the song kick in, the shot zooms in on a sign at the end of
the
road:
"DEAD END."
And then, a light goes up by the entrance portal and smoke starts to
rise
up as the music plays. A figure then steps into the light, but the
hazy
smoke prevents us from seeing the features of the man who stands
there.]
DH: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing
first,
from Rocky Ford, Colorado...
"DEAAAAAAAAAD ENNNNNNNNND" DEREEEEEEEEEEK MAAAAAAARRRRRRTIIIIIIIIN!
[And then, the figure moves forward so we can see his features, and
indeed, it's "Dead End" Derek Martin. He wears a standard wrestling
singlet, black in color, with a yellow "DEAD END" sign with the
letters
in black lettering on the front of the singlet, plus black kneepads
and
black wrestling boots. And he has a dark, cold, sinister look in his
eyes.]
DR: Since the Pride's dissolution, Derek Martin's stock has continued
to
rise as a solo act. He's targetted Tumaffi and the North American
Championship, and is the first person we've seen able to inflict real
pain on the Polynesian Warrior.
SS: Yeah, which just goes to show that Daniels and the Pride, as much
as
it pains me to say this, were past its' prime.
[The spotlight covering Martin begins to follow him down the aisle,
making the trek to the ring without so much as a smirk on his face.
Knowing who he's got to face tonight tends to do that to a person, and
Martin ignores all of the surrounding boos and jeers from the crowd as
he
ducks between the ropes and into the ring. As he turns to face the
entrance, the distinctive sound of Tomoyasu Hotei's "Battle Without
Honor
or Humanity" blasts over the loudspeakers.]
AM: Goodnight, Derek.
DH: And his opponent! From Los Angeles, California and weighing in at
three hundred and forty-five pounds, the former heavyweight champion
of
the world...
"THE LAAAAAAAAAST AMERICAN BADAAAAAAAAAAAAASS" ALEX
MAAAAARTINEZZZZZZZZZ!
[The impossibly huge figure of Martinez steps through the portal to a
loud cheer from the crowd, and like his opponent ignores the reaction
of
the audience. He drops the vest and sunglasses at the top of the ramp
and quickly makes his way down the aisle, stalking Martin who holds
his
ground in the ring.]
DR: I don't think we're going to wait long for these two to hook up,
they're on a collision course!
SS: Martin's standing his ground, that big goof is gonna have to come
for
him!
DR: That's exactly what he's doing, Martinez sliding into the ring and
right into a flurry of stomps from his opponent!
[Martinez absorbs every kick to the head and still manages to get to
his
feet, engaging in a brawl with Martin and forcing the smaller man to
the
ropes with an elbowsmash. Derek comes back and rocks Alex with a shot
of
his own before executing a go-behind on the former champ and taking
out
his knee with a stomp to the muscle. Martinez dips to one knee and
it's
just long enough for the former Pridesman to clamp on a side
headlock.]
DR: Martin appearing to go the power route, and I don't know if that's
such a wise idea against the Last American Badass. In fact, Martinez
is
powering up and has Martin up in the air... back suplex!
[Martin sits up and Alex grabs him around the throat by both hands,
which
draws a warning from the referee and a three count before he releases.
Martinez gets up first and keeps Martin doubled up with a shot to the
stomach, then a standing neckbreaker follows. When the former member
of
the Pride tries to get up, a standing kick to the face leaves him
dazed
and Martinez grabs him by the head and beales him right across the
ring
with a huge show of strength!]
AM: WHOA!
SS: Freak of nature.
[Derek rises slowly to his feet but walks into a sidewalk slam, and
Martinez tries for the cover: 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! The ex-Pridesman
grabs
the nearest ropes and yanks himself back upright again but Martinez
comes
after him yet again and sends him crashing out of the ring with a
clothesline!]
AM: My god, the ex-champ is on a mission tonight! He's not even
waiting
for Martin to get back in the ring, he's following him out to the
floor!
SS: Where's the ref, stop him!
AM: Yeah, the barely six foot official is going to stop the seven foot
four inch monster.
DR: Martinez has Martin by the head and is just laying in the elbows
to
the face, all as the referee is placing a ten count on the two. Oh,
and
a nasty uppercut by Martin stops the LAB dead in his tracks!
Headbutt,
and Martinez is suddenly backpedalling... right into the ringpost!
[Slowed by the uppercut, Martinez shakes the cobwebs free as Derek
Martin
rolls back into the ring long enough to break the count but then
returns
to the floor and keeps up the assault with an axehandle on Martinez.
Even with the size difference Martin is able to stagger Alex, thanks
to
grabbing him by the arm and short-arming him into the ringpost again.
This time Martinez sinks to one knee, and Martin shoves him back under
the ropes into the ring on his back. Martin then returns to the ring
and
grabs Alex's left leg, twisting it and focusing on the knee with
repeated
kicks before a sharp elbowdrop right to it. Martinez clutches at the
knee, and manages to kick an attempted figure-four leglock off,
sending
Martin to the corner.]
DR: Martin finally found the weakness in the former champion, it's
that
left leg and knee.
AM: As many times as he's injured it, it's become this mythical target
and everyone he faces seems to go for it.
SS: Why not, it works.
DR: Martin dropping another elbow to the knee, huge kick to the face
now!
Now he's up, no he's applying the figure four afterall!
[Martinez groans in pain as Martin settles back into the submission
hold,
tightening his grip and soon bridges back to increase the pressure
that
much more. Martinez reaches desperately for the ropes to break up the
hold, but then sits upright and tries instead to grab for Martin. He
gets ahold of Martin's arm and forces him to sit up as well, then
turns
it into a chokehold. Martin slowly releases the figure-four lock, and
together they rise back to their feet as Alex's grip tightens and he
looks for the Firebomb Chokeslam. But as he tries to deliver it his
knee
gives way, and Martin again goes to work with a bursting chopblock
into
the back of the knee to leave the LAB flat on his back.]
DR: He couldn't hit the Firebomb! Martinez's most prolific weapon
backfired on him, and now it's Martin again going to work!
[Martin turns his foe over onto his stomach and grabs the left leg,
bending it back and turning into a cloverleaf type hold. Martinez
again
tries to reach for the ropes, but Martin cranks back before releasing
it
altogether to drop a knee across the back of Alex's head. The Last
American Badass tries to rise but is sideswiped with a running
kneelift
that catches Martinez on the jaw. Off-balanced, Martinez falls prey
to
a
quick DDT into the mat and Derek goes back to working the knee with a
stump puller soon after. The crowd boos heavily as Martin yells at
Martinez to "just give up", but Alex audibly refuses to when the
official
asks him.]
SS: This thing's just about done, you can stick a fork in Martinez.
AM: Don't give up on him just yet, Sam. And by the way, who the hell
uses a stump puller in 2007?
DR: It's quite effective by the looks of... hold on, Martinez with a
kidney punch, gets his leg free from the grasp of Martin! Martinez is
trying to power to his feet, with Martin on his shoulders! He's
almost-
no, leg gave out again!
[Martinez managed to almost get to his feet before the knee gave way,
and
Martin is nimble enough to land on his feet. He swings Martinez
around
and plants him with the End! The suddenness shocks the crowd as Derek
rolls across Martinez and hooks his left leg, yanking it up and over
his
head to prevent the kickout:
1 -- 2 -- 3!]
AM: I don't believe it!
DH: Here is your winner...
"DEAD END" DEEEEERRRRRRREEK MAAAAAAARTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!
["The Garden of Allah" hits the PA system to the rapidly hostile
crowd,
as Martin rolls from the ring with a bit of a satisfied smirk on his
face.]
SS: Hah! Kinsey put out the challenge to stay undefeated until next
year's Gold Rush and Martinez can't even go a week without an L! What
a
fluke that title reign was.
AM: Are you out of your mind? Sure, Alex is on a mini losing streak
right now but the man was dominant here for the better part of a year
as
the heavyweight champion! Don't you dare overlook what Martinez did.
SS: Amy, I've already forgotten him.
AM: [sigh] You tool.
DR: Derek Martin notches a huge victory here, perhaps the biggest of
his
career! And he's got Tumaffi at Gold Rush in just a matter of weeks,
what a way to build momentum!
[Martinez slowly sits up in the middle of the ring, holding his knee
and
staring out into space, a very angry look worn on his face.]
AM: Poor Alex, this can't be an easy thing to go through. He's been
used
to winning for so long, now he's lost two straight. I'd hate to be
him
right now.
DR: Funny, I was just thinking I'd hate to be anyone who has to face
him
next.
[We open to a generic UWF-logo promo background. Standing here are
Brent
Maverick and Doc Holliday, The Outlaws. Garbed as ever in black
dusters
and matching hats, the Illuminati tag team prepare to make the usual
assortment of threats, claims, and grammatical errors.]
Doc Holliday: Now it seems ta us lak they's some promotahs 'round
these
heah parts thet're mighty twitchy 'bout th' Outlaws. We hear tell
they's
nervous 'bout how many o' they top-draw tag teams is retirin' on
account
o' we came ta town. We hear tell they don' wanna schedule us, on
account
of they's real skeered we gonna git shed o' th' rest o' th' money
teams
an' put th' whole damn tag division onna shelf.
Brent Maverick: Sounds ta me like good smart business decisions.
Holliday: Now ordinarily, me an' Brent'd hannle this heah problem
usin'
tradish-nul Outlaws negoshy-ashin. Thet involves bullets an' railroad
tracks an' hangin's an' possibly some high explosives an' if we's
feelin'
real ornery we might even use some Blue Creme Faygo. But we ain't
a-gonna do thet this time. seems lak we got new folk in charge whut
prolly don't know why th' old ownership disappeared yet.
Maverick: Turns out we didn't git some checks on time, an' we hadda go
on
a collection run. Which is another reason why we ain't goin' for
traditional negotiation. We're all outta bullets.
Holliday: So just special fer th' new folks in town, we gonna let 'em
know how distressed we is by stringin' somebody ELSE up. An' jus' so
they learn ta play ball with us, we even gonna make 'em some money
inna
process. Thet way we don't git no mo' late payments, an' hafta wait
anothah year fer new owners ta replace th' ones we jus' went through.
Maverick: So it goes like this: tonight, th' World Tag Team Titles is
on
th' line. Now, we ain't gonna go stickin' our nose in on that, on
account of there's personal issues there. Doc an' I know full well
how
annoyin' it is when some buncha yahoos jump in on personal business,
an'
then ya gotta waste good valuable time an' lead killin' 'em dead when
ya
could be killin' th' folk ya was supposed ta be killin' in th' first
place. But we're here now ta call th' next shot. We're fightin' th'
winners of that match.
Holliday: Thet ain't no challenge. Thet's a stone fact. Th' Outlaws
got
dibs on whoevah wins thet title match. If they book anybody else ta
fight fer th' titles aftah tanight 'sides us, ya got mah personal word
thet they won't even make it ta th' ring... hell, they might not make
it
ta th' arena. Me an' Brent think them two teams got some guts, or
mebbe
they jus' lack sense, on account o' they didn't retire lak ever'body
else
when we came ta UWF. So they shouldn't have no problem with it. We
didn't come heah ta flap lips 'bout bein' th' best; we came ta prove
it.
Maverick: An' if anybody don't like it, all you gotta do is walk on
out
ta th' ring an' call our names. We'll be sure an' put all yer
concerns
ta rest. Just make sure yer insurance covers th' cost of burial.
Holliday: Ain't thet th' truth?
Maverick: THAT'S THE _DAMN_ TRUTH!
[Cut back to the arena.]
DR: Wow, a strong challenge laid out by the Outlaws to the winners of
the
tag team unification series!
AM: Maverick and Holliday are a couple of bullies, but they're also
one
of the most decorated tag teams in pro wrestling history. The Outlaws
have gained a reputation for decimating tag team divisions, and
dominating wherever they go.
SS: Don't forget that they're riding with the champ. That has to
count
for something all on its' own.
DR: The second match in the series is coming up in just a few minutes,
and it's the Prophets of Rage up one match to none against the world
tag
team champions the Sons of Cacophony. If the Prophets win again
tonight,
not only will they be the Unified World Tag Team Champions, they'll
also
give themselves even more reason to refer to themselves as the
greatest
tag team ever.
SS: IIWF gold. EMWC gold. Potential UWF gold. So many more to
count.
You going to debate the facts?
DR: Let's just wait and see if they win, Sam. The Grimssons aren't
pushovers in this situation.
[The camera cuts to the MSG backstage area. Here, we find Chad and
Erik
Grimsson, the Sons of Cacophony, sitting on some crates, relaxing.
Dressed for their later on match, Chad wears a pair of ripped and
faded
blue jeans, a black "Napalm Death- Paradise Lost' tanktop, black
leather
chaps and black engineer boots. Erik wears a pair of ripped white
jeans
with skull designs printed on them, a black "Unleashed- Winterland"
longsleeve t-shirt, black Nike amateur wrestling shoes, and a pair of
leather shinpad-like leggings, the one on the right will have a large
iron cross on it and the one on the left will have the Norse pagan
symbol
of Thor's hammer. Erik wears his long blonde hair down and straight.
The
two seem to be enjoying themselves in a good conversation and don't
seem
to notice the camera.]
Chad: So where did Nina run off to? I figured she was going to join us
out here like she usually does.
Erik: [Shrugs] Well, I think she said something about going to visit
with
Kyle Lee, so I'm guessing that's where she is.
[Chad chuckles at this revelation.]
Chad: Oh, of course. Forgot about that. Well, those two have a lot to
talk about, I'm sure. I know she's thrilled that he's back. But hell,
so
am I.
Erik: [Nodding] Dude, me too. He's always been cool to me. I hope
Tesla
and Susan will be coming with him. That would make this place a whole
lot
more fun.
Chad: Yes it would. But don't worry, bro. We're going to have plenty
of
fun tonight. Afterall, we get to lock horns with the Rage boys again.
And
I don't know about you, but I'm really looking forward to another
crack
at those two assholes.
Erik: [Meep] yeah! You know, I thought those two were supposed to be
tough. I expected a real challenge from those two, and man, I gotta
say,
I came away very disappointed. Even though they beat us, it wasn't
because of their efforts, but the efforts of those cows outside the
ring.
It's like you said, our athleticism, toughness, and viciousness was
too
much for them.
Chad: Absolutely. Hell, we had them beat when I hit Shadoe with the
Spiral of Pain. But you know what, it doesn't matter. Yeah, we lost
and
a
loss is a loss. We're not going to complain about that. We knew what
they
were going to do, and they just outsmarted us. No shock there. Just
about
everyone outsmarts us.
[Erik nods at this, smiling.]
Erik: Yes they do. But you know what, it almost never matters. And if
we'd just been smart enough to have our help at ringside to counter
theirs immediately, it wouldn't have mattered and we would have won.
Chad: Yep. You knew exactly what I was getting at. But it's alright,
because this time, they aren't going to have any help. The two of them
are stuck in there all alone with the two of us.
Erik: Yep. Meaning they have to fight the two of us straight up. They
have to win on their own. And that's something that they showed us
they
can't do.
[A menacing smile forms on Chad's face.]
Chad: You're absolutely right, man. And tonight, in case they didn't
already know it, we're gonna show them!
[With that, the camera cuts back to the commentary team.
Fade in:
The shot opens on the inimitable New York skyline. The shot circles
around the Hudson River, taking in shots of the financial district,
the
Brooklyn Bridge to settle in on the Statue of Liberty. The shot
tightens, following the Statue of Liberty to its base. There, we have
the Prophets of Rage looking out both at Lady Liberty and the water.
Derek Rage is closest to the camera. He looks very majestic. He
fills
the screen with his massive frame draped in its soft chocolate brown
suit. He glances down at the camera for a moment, sharing the moment
as
the breeze from the water tugs at his garments. He looks thoughtful.
He rubs his neatly trimmed chin before he speaks.]
DR: New York has a special place in the hearts of the Prophets. This
is
our town. No matter what people may think of these two Canadians, New
York is one of our spiritual homes. So what better place to close out
the series and prove to the World that the Prophets of Rage are not
only
the greatest tag-team in the UWF, but they are the greatest tag-team
of
all time. We're going to close you out in the Gardens, Grimmsons.
You've already shown us that you can't handle our skills. I mean
Shadoe
beat you clean in the middle of that ring. You fell for the oldest
fallacy in professional wrestling, the Prophets need numbers to win.
The Prophets are an extreme team. No, we are a high impact team. We
are a team that competes and wrestles and wins. Throughout the years
we
have never been so much concerned with legacies, mostly we have been
concerned with the moment. We have been consumed with the idea of
winning. And we have been consumed with the idea of promoting our
women. That's led to a mistaken belief that we can't win without
them.
Sons, you are about to learn how wrong you are if you assume that
these
locked door rules provide any advantage to you. No, it won't. You're
going to have no help against the World's Greatest tag team. That's
you
and us in a ring with no help. We'll have our fans on hand and we're
in
one of the places we call home. What do you think is going to happen
to
you?
[At this point Shadoe Rage wanders into shot. It is evident that he
has
perhaps been watching too many Disney films lately, the eccentric Rage
sports two beaded braids in his goatee. His hair is a flying mess of
single plaits marked off at completely random moments with beads and
trinkets. Well, Shadoe has never been one to look like he belonged in
the world of ordinary men.]
SR: Don't even worry about auguring your future. Let me explain it to
you simply. You rode high on your horses. Hey, you sent the Hands of
Death to die in the darkness after we took everything they had from
them. Yeah, you beat them but we made them implode. And now we're
going to send you on your way, too. Two straight falls. I guarantee
you that in Madison Square Gardens there will be no suspense. You
don't
understand us. You never have. The wrestling world never has.
That's
why we've been dominant. Tag team wrestling has always been our
specialty. Now we're a dying breed, the last truly great tag-team.
Think about that. We've done it time and time again with no love, no
respect, no politics and no mercy. Everybody came at us, everybody
had
something to say about how they were better, bigger, meaner, whatever.
But nobody and I mean _nobody_ ever lived what they said. Nobody ever
took out the Prophets on the big stage when it counted. Don't think
that you're so special that you're going to be the first to do it.
DR: You aren't going to be. [Derek puts his arm around his brother's
shoulders.] The Prophets of Rage have become engaged again. We're
interested in winning the titles. We're interested in the
competition.
We're interested in proving ourselves to be the absolute best of the
best and we will not accept anything other than that. Do you
understand
what I am telling you?
SR: He's telling you that you do not have a chance. He's telling you
to
throw out everything you thought you knew about us and get ready for
an
avalanche because we're coming for your souls. We're coming to beat
you
unmercifully and put you down to that mat for the one ... two ...
three.
DR: We're coming to reestablish ourselves as the best to ever do it on
the biggest stage of them all. We're setting ourselves free.
SR: And you my friends, your pointless title reign will perish in
obfuscated ignominy.
DR: Means you'll die in darkness now fade to black.
[Fade out.]
____ ___ __ _____________
| | \/ \ / \_ _____/
S | | /\ \/\/ /| __) SATURDAY NIGHT RAMPAGE
N | | / \ / | \--------------------------
R |______/ \__/\ / \___ / Writer: Mike Beeby
\/ \/
BEST OF 3 MATCH SERIES - TAG TITLE UNIFICATION:
The Sons of Cacophony [0] versus The Prophets of Rage [1]
Locked Door Rules
-------------------------------------------------------
DH: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is the second
match in the Best Of Three Series! Additionally, this contest will be
fought under locked door rules, meaning that any interfering parties
will
be suspended for one year! Introducing first...
["Degenerated" by the Lone Rangers comes over the PA system and gets
the
crowd whipped into a frenzy. The brothers emerge from the portal,
holding the world tag team belts high over their heads.]
DH: From Detroit, Michigan, at a combined weight of five hundred and
eighty-five pounds, the team of Erik and Chad Grimsson, the World
Heavyweight Tag Team Champions...
THE SOOOOOOOOOOONNNNS OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOF
CACOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPHOOOONYYY!
[Chad and Erik head to the ring, still holding the belts over their
heads
and showing the crowd that despite a setback, they're still the best
tag
team in the wrestling business and the gold proves it. Jeans and
t-shirts are still their preferred attire, and the Grimssons roll into
the ring and climb the turnbuckles.]
SS: Kiss those titles goodbye you idiots, one more loss tonight and
the
Prophets cement their place in history.
AM: And a win evens this thing right back up.
DH: And their opponents!
[Cue the "Death March" as the lights go out in MSG, and a purple hue
is
cast over the arena soon afterwards while the SoC climb down from
their
perches.]
DH: At a total combined weight of five hundred and seventy-three
pounds,
the team of Shadoe and Derek Rage... The North American Tag Team
Champions...
THE PROOOOOOPHETSSSSS OF RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGE!
[It's the NA tag champions' turn to appear, as Shadoe and Derek Rage
step
out of the locker rooms with their own belts slung over their
shoulders.
Shadoe throws his cape down at ringside as Derek climbs into the ring
first, daring the Grimssons to come at him as he thrusts his title
into
the air. Shadoe soon joins his brother on the ring apron, and climbs
to
the second rope, leaning on Derek's shoulder as the PoR continue to
taunt
the SoC.]
DR: So we have two sets of tag team champions, perhaps for the final
time
if the Prophets can win the match tonight.
SS: This match just isn't fair, without Pizzazz and Marissa out there
to
cheer on their men. These locked door rules are totally bogus!
AM: All it means is Shadoe and Derek get to prove what they say is
true
all on their own. If they can, that is.
SS: They can. But it's got to be a drag not to have arm-candy like
those
two out here to look at.
DR: Well it appears that Chad Grimsson is going to be the legal man to
start, as is Derek Rage.
AM: Odd, normally you see the two smaller members of the teams begin
the
matches. I guess that just shows you how important this match is to
both
the Sons and the Prophets.
[The big men approach the middle of the ring as the ref signals for
the
bell, and Derek locks right up with his counterpart. Showing off his
technical skill the PoR member quickly turns it into a hammerlock to
the
arm, but Chad fires an elbow backwards and catches Rage flush in the
jaw.
Turning around, Chad tries to suplex him out of his boots but Derek
cuts
that off with a hard chop to the upper chest. Another one rocks
Grimsson, but as he tries to apply a front facelock chokehold Chad
lifts
him up and delivers a standing uranage slam into the canvas. The
sudden
rush of power draws a cheer from the crowd, but Derek quickly rolls to
the side of the ring and calls Chad on to come at him again. Not one
to
turn down the challenge, Grimsson charges.]
DR: Hard elbow to the throat from Derek Rage! Sledgehammer shots to
the
back now, and Derek is... he's trying to pick the near four hundred
pound
Chad Grimsson up for a powerbomb!
AM: Is he crazy, he'll never manage that!
SS: Sssh, don't call a Prophet crazy. They don't like that. I'm
still
three years away from the end of a five year curse that proves it.
AM: Feels more like Dave and I are the ones who're cursed. Say, the
past
eleven years or so.
[Derek tries for the powerbomb but can't quite get his opponent up,
and
Chad drives him backfirst into the turnbuckles. A cross-corner whip
and
Chad tries an avalanche, but Derek sidesteps and tags out to Shadoe
who
springs over the ropes with a leaping kick that catches Chad in the
face
and sends him into the ropes. Shadoe rolls to his feet and goes after
Chad with a series of strikes to the head before trying to whip him
across the ring. Chad reverses it but Shadoe rocks him with a leaping
somersault clothesline, and a sudden low dropkick puts Chad down to
one
knee.]
DR: The big man for the Grimssons nearly off his feet, Shadoe now
applies
a headlock. Over the back neckbreaker from Shadoe, Chad's reeling
here!
SS: That's the veteran instinct of Derek Rage, he's been to the big
dance
time and time again. What's Grimsson ever done in a pressure
situation?
AM: He beat Serge Annis and Caliban for the belts, for starters.
SS: Sure, rub that in.
[Shadoe tries to take Chad down, but still can't put him on his back.
Another low dropkick keeps him from getting up, but Shadoe bounces off
the ropes and tries a running kneelift and instead runs right into a
spinning backfist from Chad! HUGE POP!]
DR: Uraken!
AM: Here's the first cover of the match!
[1 -- 2 -- kickout by Shadoe Rage! Chad gets up and tags out to Erik,
and the smaller member of the SoC goes right to the top rope. Shadoe
rises up and turns around right into a flying shoulderblock from Erik,
sending both men to the mat in a heap. Erik winds up on top of
Shadoe:
1 -- Shoulder up! They both get up and Erik tries to throw a punch
but
has it blocked, and Shadoe drives a knee into Erik's stomach to double
him up before dropping him with a hiptoss powerslam. Erik sits up and
gets trapped in a kneeling-forward chinlock by Shadoe.]
DR: From the power of their partners, we move into a more technical
showcase by Erik Grimsson and Shadoe Rage now.
AM: That's part of what makes these two teams so formidable, they can
beat you straight up brawling or in a fast-paced technical style
match.
It also makes them match up so evenly.
DR: A fireman's carry takeover by Erik now, Shadoe's flat on his back,
headscissors on Grimsson though. Rollup!
One!
Two!
Escape by Erik!
[Again the two return to their feet, and Erik is able to dodge a
lunging
kick from Shadoe, traps his leg and takes Shadoe down with a t-bone
suplex to the canvas! A stomp to the head softens Rage up for a
second
rope fistdrop, and Erik tries to hook the leg for another pin attempt.
Instead Shadoe is able to fight for position and takes Erik down into
a
cross armbreaker-style hold. He doesn't hold for long thanks to
another
shot to the head, but it separates the two.
Erik lands another big hit on Shadoe before he can get back up, and
then
knocks him totally through the ropes to the floor with a charging
overhead right cross! This forces the Prophets to regroup, and Erik
is
joined by Chad in the ring to taunt their opponents once more.]
AM: The Sons of Cacophony are feeling the energy of this New York
crowd!
DR: Shadoe back up on the ring apron, shoulder to the ribcage on Erik
Grimsson!
[Erik doubles up and Shadoe applies a standing headscissors on the
apron,
holding him in place as Derek nails Erik between the eyes with a
series
of hard fists. A guillotine legdrop follows, and Shadoe rolls back
into
the ring and tries to hook the leg only to have Chad grab him
immediately
and pull him into the corner. A big kneelift knocks the wind out of
Shadoe before the ref pulls Chad back to the SoC corner, and Derek
half
pulls Erik out of the ring and fires several elbows into his face and
upper chest. Chad comes charging back across the ring and pulls
Shadoe
out of the corner and applies a crushing clawhold to Shadoe in the
corner.]
DR: The referee is rapidly losing control here, Chad Grimsson isn't
legal
but he's got that claw applied... and now Derek Rage into the ring,
he's
got Erik in a clawhold of his own!
AM: Oh my god, dueling claw slams!
DR: Both Shadoe Rage and Erik Grimsson have been laid _OUT COLD_!
SS: Taking that mirror images thing a bit too far, guys.
[The official breaks it up and sends Derek and Chad back to their
corners, all as a barely conscious Shadoe manages to roll over and
drape
an arm across an equally battered Erik:
1 -- 2 -- Foot on the ropes! Both men are slow to rise and Shadoe
belts
him across the face, then sets up for a suplex but it's blocked. Erik
uses the clinch to fire off a series of short, stiff uppercuts right
to
Shadoe's face and drops him like a sack of potatoes. The Heavy Metal
Hero staggers to the corner and tags out to Chad, who comes in before
Shadoe can likewise get to the corner and hauls him up across his
shoulders for a Death Valley Driver.]
DR: Shadoe fighting back with elbow shots to the temple, and the big
man
is down to his knees! He's free, lunges and tags out to Derek Rage!
SS: And you thought the locked door rules would make this a cakewalk
for
the Sons of Cacophony.
AM: I never said a cakewalk. I'm just happy we don't have to see
Monet
try and stick her big nose into this match.
[Derek grabs Chad and hammers him with closed fists, drawing a warning
from the referee. A whip to the Prophets corner sets up a running
clothesline, but as Derek tries to set Chad up on the ropes in a
seated
position the Pit Monster comes to life and kicks Derek in the chest.
An
elbow puts Shadoe on the floor, and with Derek knocked back a couple
of
steps Chad tries to hit a second rope clothesline tackle. At the last
minute Shadoe trips his brother from outside the ring and as a result
Derek ducks it and allows his opponent to crash and burn hard.
Not to be outdone, Erik bursts back into the ring and runs straight
for
Derek as he starts to get back up. Lowering his head, the two
wrestlers'
heads collide and the result is what sounds like a shotgun blast!
They
both collapse instantly, but while Derek lies motionless Erik rolls
onto
his back and clutches his head in agony.]
DR: WHAT A DEVASTATING CONCUSSION BOMB!
SS: And totally illegal, don't forget.
[It's Chad who makes it to his feet first thanks to the Concussion
Bomb,
and he drags a semi-conscious Derek to his feet and grabs him around
the
waist for what becomes a release german suplex. The 7'4 lands on his
head and shoulders, and Chad attempts the cover: 1 -- 2 -- Shadoe
lunges
into the ring to break things up though, which draws boos from the
crowd
and yet another warning from the referee. The world tag team champion
grabs Rage and tosses him by the scruff of the neck over the top rope
himself, but in doing so leaves him open to a gigantic spear tackle!]
AM: Oh my god! That shook the ring!
[The Prophets big man grabs the ropes and hauls himself up to his feet
as
Chad Grimsson rolls onto his hands and knees. Derek grabs Chad by the
head and pulls him up into a standing headscissors hold. Then to the
disbelief of the crowd, he hauls Chad upside down and hits a crushing
piledriver!]
DR: The end may be near for the Grimssons' title reign judging by the
way
this is going! Derek with a tag back out to Shadoe, who's climbing to
the top turnbuckle.
AM: He's trying to pick Chad up for a Hand of God!
[Erik reaches into the ring and manages to tap Chad on the shoulder,
unbeknownst to the Prophets. He climbs the top rope cross-corner from
where Shadoe is also headed to the top rope, and he leaps off the
second
rope and smashes into Derek Rage from behind, which sends him crashing
into Shadoe on the turnbuckles, and knocking both men senseless with a
cannonball-style dive. Chad rolls clear as a result, gets up, and
strikes Derek with a spear tackle which knocks both big men through
the
ropes to the outside.
Erik stumbles to their feet while Shadoe gingerly climbs down from the
turnbuckle, and Erik grabs Shadoe for a heart punch with the left hand
bent behind his head. But a reversal and Shadoe suplexes Grimsson off
his feet and onto his head with tremendous force, and Rage tries to
hit
a
Shining Wizard to finish Erik off.]
DR: Erik ducks the Wizard! Shadoe turning around, small package!
ONE!
TWO!
KICKOUT!
AM: So close, but Erik still has a little bit of fight left in him!
DR: Both men back up, Erik trying another charging right cross...
Shadoe
ducks it, sends Erik to the ropes...
[A Thesz Press off the ropes brings Erik down on top of Shadoe, and
thinking quickly he grabs Shadoe's legs and pulls them forward as he
hunches down for the ugly cover:
1 -- 2 -- 3!]
DR: It's good, the SOC evens things up!
[The music hits the PA system as the arena explodes!]
DH: Here are your winners, evening the series up at ONE MATCH
APIECE...
THE SOOONNNNNNNNS OF CACOOOOOOOOOOOOOPHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONY!
[The crowd pops happily at the sounds of "Degenerated", and a weary
Erik
Grimsson gets back to his feet. He holds both arms over his head
defiant
in victory, as Chad grabs the world tag belts from ringside and
pitches
one in to his brother in the ring. Shadoe crawls from the ring and
helps
Derek make his way back to his feet, and the Prophets make their way
back
up the aisle. Joined by Chad in the ring, Erik holds up one finger on
each hand and motions to the Prophets, reminding them that this is all
tied up now.]
AM: I knew it,
SS: This is terrible, this is the worst thing that could have
happened!
DR: What are you babbling about now?
SS: Going to a third match in the series, this is sooooooo
predictable.
AM: Yeah, a high profile champion versus champion finale at Gold Rush,
that's terrible.
DR: So we know of three matches now at Gold Rush, let's take a look at
the card as it stands.
[Graphics:
GOLD RUSH X: RETURN TO GLORY
Live from Ford Field, Detroit MI
--------------------------------
Title versus Title Unification Main Event
"The Loose Cannon" Luke Kinsey versus The One-Winged Angel
--------------------------------
For the North American Heavyweight Championship
Tumaffi[c] versus "Dead End" Derek Martin
--------------------------------
Tag Title versus Tag Title Unification Best of Series Match #3
The Sons of Cacophony versus The Prophets of Rage
Dissolve back to the announcers.]
DR: As we understand it, more matches are going to be finalized next
week
on the last stop before Gold Rush. But what a trio of contests that
should be, as championships are unified on the biggest stage of them
all.
DH: Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to the first ever
UWF Women's North American Champion...
"TWILIGHT ANGEL" SONYA BENEDICT!
[Turquoise lights come on, joining the venue's regular entrance lights
as
Nightwish's former lead singer Tarja Turunen sings the opening lines
of
"Wish I Had An Angel", accompanied by quiet electronics.]
# I WISH I HAD AN ANGEL FOR ONE MOMENT OF LOVE,
I WISH I HAD YOUR ANGEL TONIGHT. #
AM: The recently crowned champion has new music, I see.
DR: I'm told she's wanted to change it for some time now, but just
never
got the chance.
SS: Talk about a high maintenance chick. This is her third one now.
[Electric guitars and drums then kick in, soon followed by Tarja and
more
of her operatic singing. But more importantly, the entrance curtains
are
shoved dramatically out to the sides and "Twilight Angel" Sonya
Benedict
steps out onto the stage, flashbulbs going off all around the
building.
She's dressed for battle though none is scheduled: a short-sleeved hot
pink "KOKORO: Pure Heart Combat" t-shirt, fine fishnets underneath
that,
and forest green camouflage shorts. She rounds out her gear with
black
kneepads and boots, with turquoise laces on the boots. The UWF
Women's
North American title belt is draped over her right shoulder. Raising
both of her fists in the air, brown eyes scanning the crowd, she then
abruptly throws her clenched fists down in one quick motion to a big
face
pop from the crowd. Finally she makes her way down the ramp, working
the
crowd all the way. As the music continues, Sonya ascends the
ringsteps
and steps through the ropes into the ring, before raising both fists
high
once more. Bringing them back down abruptly in the same fashion as
before, she then gestures for a microphone as "Wish I Had An Angel"
fades
out and the lights return to normal.]
SB: Madison Square Garden...
[NAME DROPPAGE POP!]
SB: Wow, you just can't get much bigger than this.
[More pops. They agree.]
SB: And it's so fitting that the UWF has come here to New York City
this
week--
[HOMETOWN POP! Sonya smiles brightly.]
SB: --Because I couldn't have asked for a better place to make my
announcement; in front of twenty thousand of the most devoted fans in
the
world.
[OBLIGATORY POP!]
SB: But you know the drill. In the ten plus years that UWF has
dominated
the wrestling industry, I'm sure you've heard more than your share of
championship speeches: from Stephanie Harper, Quinn Brown, Chris
O'Brien,
and probably countless more...
All telling you that they'd take on any and all challengers. And then
probably backed up those words, too.
[She paces around the ring for a few moments, perhaps slightly
restless.]
SB: But with me, you got that from the very beginning.
[She nods in the affirmative.]
SB: In the three-and-a-half years that I've been here, not _once_ did
I
turn down a challenge. Even if I hated it with all my heart.
DR: I believe she's referring to the facade she put on to get
intelligence on the New Era.
[Sonya continues.]
SB: Not once in that time have I called it quits...
SS: What about the time she disappeared for a few months?
AM: That was because Jamie Underwood had her suspended, Sam.
SB: And not once did I ever half-ass a fight. From day one, I've
always
given the UWF everything I've had. And now, finally...
[Grinning, she raises the Women's North American title high overhead.]
SB: It's all paid off.
[FACE POP! They still totally agree. Sonya then lowers the belt back
onto her shoulder before continuing her speech.]
SB: But that's not where I was going with this.
[Ahems.]
SB: Everybody in the back already knows that if they ever want to
fight
me, all they have to do is ask. So rather than just state the
obvious,
which you've all heard a million times before, I thought I'd go a step
further.
[She then begins pacing around again.]
SB: So earlier this evening, I paid a visit to one Kyle Lee.
[POP for the Doomsayer.]
SB: And after discussing a few ideas, he finally agreed on one...
[She pauses for a beat, allowing the suspense to build.]
SB: So from now on, as long as I hold and defend this title...
[She pats the belt still on her shoulder.]
SB: Every title defense will now have a twenty second countout time,
instead of the usual ten seconds.
[HARDCORE POP! The rule change isn't much, nor a very big deal, but
there's some bloodthirsty hardcore nuts out there that like it
nonetheless.]
SB: I wanted a bit more, but it was hard enough convincing him to
allow
twenty second countouts, with all of UWF's past troubles with looser
rules.
[BOO! Not at Sonya, but the fact that she couldn't get anymore
leeway.
She then holds a hand up to silence them.]
SB: But unlike some people around here, you'll never see me keep this
title because I ran away from a fight, and got counted out. That's a
promise.
[She chuckles.]
SB: However, I _can't_ promise that I won't lose my temper and get
disqualified for putting somebody in their place..
[Sonya smiles as the crowd laughs at that remark, but then tosses the
mic
to a ringside attendant and makes her exit from the ring.]
AM: Well it's great to see a champion that really looks to take on....
["Not My Idea" by Garbage starts up over the PA interrupting Sonya's
exit. And with that, "Supervixen" Ami Tran emerges from the entrance
portal carring a microphone and stands at the top of aisle. Sonya
holds
her ground in the ring and the two stare down as Tran's theme fades
out.]
AM:... and leave it to an Amity member to be the first comer.
AT: Well congratulations are in order for one Sonya Benedict. Now, we
should all know by now that the Benedict name in women's wrestling has
stood for toughness, grit and flat out beating the living hell out of
people. So it should come as no surprise that a Benedict would comes
out
and promise a tough hardcore road to taking a title from her. That's
something I know these fans can respect and that's something that
Amity
sure as hell can respect.
[Pop for Sonya and the respect shown her.]
AT: There's just well, one small issue I have with it. That Benedict's
name is not Sonya; It's Myra!
[Cue the boos.]
AT: So while I'll handle the business of handing you your ass for
taking
that title off my work in the ring last week, allow me to introduce to
the world the only Benedict that matters and the newest member of
Amity,
"Posion Bliss" Myra Benedict!
[Cue the low horn and doom metal riffs of My Dying Bride's "She Is The
Dark". And of course, out comes Myra. She joins her new stablemate
atop
the aisle, and smirks fiendishly at cousin Sonya.]
DR: Got to say I'm surprised that Amity would choose Myra Benedict of
all
people.
AM: Agreed. Doesn't seem to me like she'd really fit in with them.
SS: Can't argue, and well I have to admit, it's the only smart thing
they've ever done.
["She's Is The Dark" fades out and Tran smirks at her new stablemate,
than back at Sonya.]
AT: You're looking at the class of the women's division here in UWF.
You're also looking at the next [points to self] North American and
[points to Myra] World Women's Champion. That's Amity... you know the
rest.
SB: You know what Ami, and Myra?
[She adjusts the Women's North American Title belt on her shoulder.]
SB: Far as I'm concerned, we can do this right now. But if you're not
up
for it... [points at Myra] and if my cousin's not properly prepared
yet...
[She chuckles.]
SB: Then I'll leave it up to you to choose a time and place.
["Wish I Had An Angel" starts as up the two female Amity members spend
another moment staring down Sonya before backing their way out of the
arena area to backstage. Sonya then makes her exit as well.]
DR: Another challenge is thrown out here, by the Women's North
American
Champion herself.
AM: I'm a little surprised Angel didn't come out here and try to pick
up
that belt for himself too. He's got one, and maybe two after Gold
Rush.
SS: Keep dreamin'.
[We are taken to the backstage area once again, this time we go, for a
second time, to the makeshift office of "Metroplex Broadcast
Consultants", otherwise known as the MBC. Instead of being inside his
office, outside consultant "The Doomsayer" Kyle Lee is sitting on a
stool
outside his office and carrying on a conversation with his assistant
Allison Chambers. Lee has his suit jacket off and seems to be twisting
some of the kinks out of his back.]
KL: This is all the files they sent us today?
AC: Only the people that have shown interest.
KL: Seems a bit low don't you think?
AC: Maybe. But I've heard rumors.
KL: Rumors? Of what?
AC: That people wanted to come see you first before saying anything.
[At this moment, a figure from out of the shadows begins to creep into
the room, sneaking up on Kyle. Before Allison can warn Kyle, it jumps
onto his back.]
Female voice: [Giggling] Gotcha!
KL: Oof! My back!
AC: Sir, you have a Grimsson on your back.
KL: [Smiling with a slight grimace] Uggh. I bet I know which one too.
[And with that, the camera gets a closeup of a grinning Nina Grimsson.
The youngest of the Grimsson siblings gives Kyle a loving squeeze and
a
quick kiss on the cheek before releasing him and sliding off his back.
Dressed in a black "Anthrax- Among The Living" tanktop, a loose
fitting
black and white camoflauge miniskirt, black fishnet stockings with the
left knee ripped out, and black canvas maryjanes, Nina moves to come
face
to face with Kyle.]
Nina: [Giggling] Well, I hope you didn't think it was Chad. As much as
I
love my brother, that would really sting the ego.
KL: If that was Chad, I'm sure I'd be dead. [Smiling wider now.] Was
wondering when you were going to stop by and give me hell for not
letting
you in on the secret of my big return to the world of wrestling.
Nina: Well, hell will have to wait for later. I'm just thrilled to see
you back.
[Nina now glares at Kyle.]
Nina: So what the [MEEP] took you so damn long?
KL: Oh you know, impulsive as I may be at times, I do like to plan.
Planning is half the fun. And building anticipation is the other. I'm
sure the fans liked it.
[Lee turns to the camera.]
KL: Didn't you?
[The arena crowd erupts with cheers.]
KL: Mighty.
[Lee then turns back to Nina.]
KL: And you know physical therapy isn't a super quick thing.
Nina: [Laughing] Yeah, well I hate planning. Doesn't run in my family
at
all.
[A look of concerned curiosity comes over Nina's face.]
Nina: And I meant to ask you how your back was doing. I noticed your
grimace when I pounced on you? You holding up alright?
[Kyle rests his hands on Nina's shoulders to reassure her of what he
is
about to say.]
KL: Nina, I know you're concerned about my health. You always have
been
as long as we became friends. But I promise you that there is nothing
for
you to worry about. I'm not going to go off and do anything that's
beyond
my physical capabilities. And I'm growing to really like driving
around
every arena in a golf cart.
[Allison, amidst sorting files, rolls her eyes at the mention of the
golf
cart.]
AC: I'm not letting you jump anymore ramps. I already told you.
[Lee smiles and continues to look Nina in the eyes.]
KL: No reason for you to worry. I swear.
Nina: [Smiles] Well good. But if I find out you're not being straight
up,
I will not hesitate to sick Tesla on you. Just so you know.
[Nina now folds her arms.]
Nina: And since you're okay, we need to get you in that ring as soon
as
possible.
KL: [Letting out a laugh] Oh I think thats still a bit far off. But
you'll be the first to tell when I am okay?
[Nina pretends to be disappointed.]
Nina: Oh, I suppose if I have to settle for that, then fine. But make
sure you get better, okay?
KL: Don't worry. I'm a tough bastard to keep down. You know that. Now,
what are you doing after the show? Tesla is coming into town and I
know
she's got an earful to give me. I could use some protection.
Nina: [Laughing] I don't know. From her, we might both need
protection.
Maybe we can throw Erik in front of her to keep her distracted
momentarily. But why is she going to chew you out?
KL: Well I didn't let her in on the surprise either. And you know her.
Mother hen cranked up to eleven.
Nina: [Laughing] Do I ever. Okay, you have a deal. I'll protect you
from
her.
KL: Good, good. But for the time being, I've got to be off to a
meeting.
See you after the show all right?
Nina: For sure. You can count on it.
[Fade back to arena.]
DR: Well we're almost ready for the main event. It's been well
documented the journey to the world heavyweight championship for Luke
Kinsey has been a long one, but tonight he takes on a role he's not
been
accustomed to. The defending champion.
AM: Luke's been the challenger so many times in his career, I wonder
if
he'll even be able to function properly as the guy with the target on
his
back.
SS: You'll just take any little opportunity you can to degrade our
champion. Luke isn't sweating Bonn, trust me.
DR: And that, in itself, may be the problem.
[Open up to THE world's heavyweight championship belt. It is all
manner
of gold, silver and precious metal goodness. The name plate proudly
reads
"LUKE KINSEY" and as we fade back we find not it's rightful holder
carrying the title, but in fact the valet of the world's heavyweight
champion. Brianna Landis is resplendent in tight, faded blue jeans and
a
wrinkled white button down shirt, tied up at the navel to show off a
nice
little belly button ring.]
BL: Hi. Normally this is the part in the show where Luke comes out and
says some pretty funny things. Last time out, he was very emotional
about
what the title meant to him and why he loves wrestling. He was SO
happy
because finally he could come out and address the world as the World
Champion.
Even if it was in UWF.
[She shrugs.]
BL: And one show after getting the vindication for ten years of hard
work, shedding all the blood, sweat and tears... he has to fight
Michael
Bonn?
Really? Michael Bonn is the best you can do?
[Brianna shakes her head, disappointed.]
BL: With all due respect to Michael Bonn, Luke could beat him by
sending
him a letter across the dressing room. And as his spokesman slash
afternoon delight, I feel it my duty to say, "Shame on you, UWF."
You're
like an old lady with a Christmas ham under each arm, complaining
about
not having any bread.
This is history, UWF, and you're wasting it.
Michael Bonn?
Shame on you. Wasn't Scott Daniels feeling up to it? Alex Martinez too
busy getting his weekly pedicure and bikini wax? If we're just handing
out title shots based on loyalty and time spent with the company, how
come Mo Owens isn't getting ready for his title shot? This is a guy
who
moves less merchandise than the Pride toaster, and yet somehow he's
wriggled his way into a shot for _the_ World's Title. Across the ring
from _the_ best wrestler on the Earth today.
Michael Bonn?
[Brianna is almost dejected.]
BL: For your sake, Mikey, I'm hoping everything is working that day.
You
should get up, go for a walk, have a nice BM and then put some time in
at
the gym. And think real hard about what a challenge you'll have in
front
of you. And not to win the title, because we _know_ that's not
happening...
...but just to look okay in your first title match. Just to keep up
with
the champ. I mean, it took Luke how long to win the world title? And
he's
like... a thousand times better than you. How long do you think it'll
take _you_?
I'm not like an oracle or anything...
[Landis adjusts the title on her shoulder, grinning at her own wit.]
BL: But I'm pretty sure it'll take you longer than this show. Welcome
to
the varsity, Michael Bonn. Enjoy your stay.
[Fade to the middle of the MSG ring. The bell sounds three times, and
the crowd raises to a crescendo.]
____ ___ __ _____________
| | \/ \ / \_ _____/
S | | /\ \/\/ /| __) SATURDAY NIGHT RAMPAGE
N | | / \ / | \--------------------------
R |______/ \__/\ / \___ / Writer: Mike Beeby
\/ \/
MAIN EVENT
FOR THE HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE WORLD:
Luke Kinsey[c] versus "Nighthawk" Michael Bonn
-------------------------------------------------------
DH: Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for the main event of the
evening! This contest is scheduled for one fall with all TV time
remaining, and is for the Heavyweight Championship of the World!
[Shinedown's "Fly From The Inside" hits the PA system and the crowd
unleashes a loud roar.]
DH: Introducing the challenger! From North Brookfield, Massachusetts,
weighing in at two hundred and twenty-five pounds, one half of Don't
Go
There and accompanied by Ryu Osawa _AND_ Virginia St. Ursula...
"THE NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHTHAWWWWWWWWWWWWWK" MIIIIIIIIIIIIICHAEL
BOOOOOOONNN!
[The trio enters Madison Square Garden, Ryu on his left side and Ginny
on
the right. Bonn is rather stoic as he makes his way out, pausing at
the
top of the aisle to look out at the arena. But his manager and tag
team
partner are animated enough for the three of them, especially Virginia
who beams at having her banishment ended finally.]
SS: Two years ago, I'd have been proud to see that man wear the
championship of the world. Now? He's partners with a man that owns a
rooster as a pet.
AM: Your cock envy is showing again, Sam.
[Bonn climbs into the ring once he gets there, and holds the ropes
open
for Ginny. Ryu slides through the ropes as well, earning a dirty look
from his tag partner in the process.]
#I JUST SAID UP YOURS BABY!#
[MSG HEEL POP! "Electric Head pt. 2" by White Zombie explodes over
the
sound system as the strobe lights make the most famous arena in the
world
their bitch.]
DH: And his opponent!
[Two pinwheel fireworks go off around the entrance portal, followed by
another quick volley of pyro for added oomph. A chorus of boos as
Brianna Landis emerges from the locker rooms carrying the World
Championship Title over her head proudly.]
DH: From Syracuse, New York, he weighs in at two hundred and
thirty-four
pounds. He is the reigning Heavyweight Champion of the World... He
is...
"THE LOOSE CANNON" LUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUKE
KIIIIIINSSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!
[And the Man of the Hour struts out from the locker room next, through
the portal and immediately strikes an exaggerated crotch chop/pelvic
thrust combination. Kinsey extends a hand to Landis, who clasps
Luke's
left hand and twirls in towards him. The Loose Cannon dips her, but
instead of planting one on the blonde vixen he grabs the championship
belt from her instead and lets her drop to the stage. She strikes a
somewhat submissive pose looking up at the champ as Kinsey holds the
belt
up triumphantly, and the booing gets louder and louder despite this
being
his home state.]
SS: Now that guy knows how to make an entrance.
AM: And piss off an arena full of people.
[Luke is decked out in full length tights, black and green with the
image of a coiled up snake on each leg in white. His brown hair is
pulled back into a ponytail and held back by a white band. His
ensemble is completed with black boots, black fingerless gloves and
black elbow pads, as well as two small golden hoops in each ear. He
saunters down the ramp to the ring as Bonn looks at him from the
center
of the squared circle. And he's not amused.]
SS: Keep on staring, Bonn. You're just a lowly cruiserweight, Luke's
a
heavyweight. There's a pecking order, dammit.
AM: Yeah, a cruiserweight who happens to be three inches taller than
the
heavyweight champ... Oh wait just a minute, what are the Outlaws doing
out here?
[The crowd gets even louder with the booing as Kinsey and Landis are
joined by the Outlaws, who trail behind at a distance dressed in jeans
and t-shirts.]
SS: What's wrong with that? Ryu Osawa's out here, for so-called moral
support.
AM: Moral support is probably the last thing they've got on their
minds.
[Kinsey steps into the ring still holding the championship title, and
Bonn starts to approach him but the official cuts him off, and takes
the
title belt to show it off to the crowd. He signals for the bell only
after handing it to a ring attendant, and Kinsey locks right up with
Bonn. Bonn easily pushes Kinsey up against the ropes before the ref
forces a break, and a thumb to the eye sets things up for the
champion.]
AM: There's a great start to his title reign.
SS: Shut up, he's just getting started.
[Kinsey double underhooks Bonn and tries to suplex him off his feet,
but
Bonn reverses and tosses the champion across the ring with a huge
hiptoss. The Nighthawk immediately follows up with a running forearm,
knocking Kinsey into the corner. A series of mounted punches gets the
crowd counting along:
"One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!"
Bonn hops down as the normally boisterous champion staggers forward,
and
Bonn catches him with a thrust kick right under the chin which snaps
him
back against the turnbuckles.]
DR: Wow, it's been all challenger early on here. I would have
expected
Luke Kinsey to come out firing but instead he's on the defensive.
[Bonn traps Luke against the turnbuckles and delivers three straight
european uppercut shots, then hits a snapmare right into a dropkick to
the back of Kinsey's head. The champion rolls right out to the floor,
where Brianna embraces Luke and tries to calm him down. Bonn rolls
his
eyes in disgust as his foe takes nearly the full ten seconds to return
to
the ring.
When he steps back through the ropes Bonn is right back on him,
hitting
a
series of trapped kneelifts and then surprises the champion with
another
hiptoss. A clothesline follows it up, and Bonn scoops Kinsey up and
tries a slam. Luke finally uses an offensive maneuver in the match
when
he turns the slam into an armdrag takedown, then rolls to his feet and
as
Bonn tries the same he's greeted with a kick to the stomach. A
uranage
setup turns into a backbreaker by Kinsey, but when he tries to segue
right into a uranage slam Bonn leaves his feet and brilliantly turns
the
move into a double knee into Kinsey's stomach! Bonn rolls over and
covers his opponent: 1 -- 2 -- Kickout!]
AM: That was the first cover in the match and I almost thought for a
moment Bonn was going to get the win there!
SS: That's because you're a dumb broad.
DR: I see you've been hanging out with Daniel Kidd again. Bonn with a
near pin though, now back on his feet and he's got Kinsey by the head.
[Luke tries to free himself with a forearm to the kidneys, and throws
Bonn to the ropes. On the rebound the champ ducks a clothesline, but
a
back savate kick to the jaw knocks him loopy. Virginia leads the
crowd
in chanting for Bonn as he picks Kinsey up across his shoulders and
does
a forward roll slam, springs to the second turnbuckle and executes a
moonsault kneedrop into the gut of the champ! He quickly goes for
another pinfall, but Kinsey grabs the ropes and again hauls himself to
the outside ring area. BOOO!]
SS: Once again Luke shows his superior intellect by-
AM: -running like a scared little bit-
SS: -reorganizing his thoughts and living to fight another day.
[Ginny shouts across the ringside area at Landis to give Kinsey his
"balls back", which earns a dirty look from both members of the
Illuminati. Luke climbs back into the ring again, demanding the
referee
keep Bonn at bay, but the Nighthawk charges and falls victim to a
standing toehold drop into the buckles. Finally able to get a little
offense in, Kinsey drives the point of his knee into the base of
Bonn's
neck and clamps on a head vice from there. Bonn pushes back to his
feet
and Kinsey breaks the vice long enough to slap him across the back of
the
head. His anger starting to boil over, Bonn turns around and Kinsey
goes
sailing all the way across the ring with an exploder suplex!]
DR: The challenger may have the champ on the ropes, what a suplex!
AM: This isn't even close! Kinsey's getting dominated here!
[Bonn wastes no time in marching over to Kinsey and turning him onto
his
stomach, locks his legs up and cranks back on the arm into an STF
hold.
Rather than force a submission though, Bonn stands up and begins to
slam
Kinsey's face and stomach into the canvas repeatedly! The crowd roars
as
Bonn releases the battered champion and locks Kinsey up with a La
Majistral Cradle:
1 -- 2 -- Shoulder up!
Kinsey tries to flee the ring a third time, but Bonn hangs onto his
feet
and prevents the escape as he tries to set up for more STF slams. And
Kinsey, perhaps working just on instinct now, delivers a devastating
forearm into the groin of the Nighthawk. Michael sinks to his knees,
the
wind knocked out of him and Luke crawls along the ropes to the far
corner.]
DR: The Loose Cannon getting somewhat of a breather now, thanks to a
low
blow on Michael Bonn.
SS: You know, Luke didn't get where he wanted to be by being a nice
guy.
AM: Believe me, we know that.
DR: Kinsey now standing above Bonn on the mat, hooks his shoulder
around
his legs, down to a pushup position and repeatedly bashing Bonn's face
to
the mat!
SS: Payback for those STF shots, Bonn.
[Kinsey continues to deliver the push-up facebusters a few more times,
but Bonn makes a final stab at escaping when he suddenly flips Kinsey
over onto his shoulders and uses his own weight to hold down in
another
pin attempt: 1 -- 2 -- KICKOUT! The dissapointed pop echoes
throughout
MSG as Kinsey rolls from the ring yet again into the embrace of a
concerned Landis.
Bonn makes it to his feet and looks around for his foe, spots him on
the
floor and then looks at the crowd. His tag team partner urges him on,
and then so does the crowd:
"FUCK HIM UP MICHAEL, FUCK HIM UP!" (clap clap)
"FUCK HIM UP MICHAEL, FUCK HIM UP!" (clap clap)
Bonn dives through the ropes with a suicide tope right into Kinsey and
Landis, sending them both smashing into the dasher boards! HUGE POP!]
SS: Assault! How dare Bonn attack Brianna like that?!?
DR: This Madison Square Garden crowd is coming absolutely unglued here
for the Nighthawk, who appears to be on the verge of winning the world
championship here!
SS: Come on Rogers, try and stay unbiased here.
AM: I can't believe how little it looks like Kinsey's got in his tank
tonight. He's barely been in this match at all from the opening.
[On the floor, Bonn returns Kinsey to the ring quickly to avoid the
countout although he does look down at Landis sprawled out on the
floor
and gives a sheepish shrug. The Outlaws finally move from their
positions at the head of the aisle and help Landis over to a chair at
ringside, but Ryu moves closer to them and makes sure Bonn doesn't
suffer
the wrath of Maverick or Holliday. A desperation neckbreaker on the
challenger as he tries to step back into the ring allows Luke to try a
quick cover of his own: 1 -- 2 -- Kickout!
Bonn escapes the cover and sits up, but another poke to the eye
prevents
him from regaining the momentum. Kinsey drags him slowly to an
upright
position and sets up for a powerbomb, lifts Bonn up but the former
cruiserweight champion hammers Luke in the face, spins around so he's
sitting on Kinsey's shoulders...
... and Luke gets promptly taken off his feet with a reverse
hurracanrana
which spikes the Illuminati leader into the canvas!]
DR: Devastating! This just may be the night that the Nighthawk etches
his name into the record books! He is absolutely running circles
around
the heavyweight champion of the world!
[Bonn lifts Kinsey up and shows off his rarely used strength with a
benchpress lift, turns and heaves Kinsey right to the corner in a
violent
tossing slam! Luke somehow avoids landing right on the top of his
head
but lies in the corner in a heap, and again the chants for Bonn ring
throughout MSG.
Ginny slaps the edge of the ring in a steady rhythm, Bonn grabs Kinsey
and rolls him over: 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! Once again Kinsey is a second
away from losing the strap and tries to run from the ring, but Michael
drags him by the feet to the center of the ring. Opting to simply beg
on
his knees now, Kinsey is greeted with chants so vulgar it must be
MSG.]
DR: Well perhaps now we've seen everything. The proud and cocky world
champion, begging Michael Bonn for mercy.
AM: Try and justify that one, Sam.
SS: Give me a minute.
DR: Bonn locks on a facelock, and another low blow from Kinsey!
[Luke rolls slowly to his feet and kicks Bonn in the back of the head,
hooks him by the head and nails a sharp backdrop suplex into the
canvas.
Kinsey regains some of that championship swagger as he locks on an
elevated Cloverleaf hold right close to where Virginia is on the
outside.
Once Michael reaches the ropes Kinsey drops him, and stomps the back
of
his head. Kinsey reaches down and pulls Bonn up, and out of nowhere a
lightning quick counter from the challenger in the form of a Stilldive
floatover DDT!
Both men lie on their backs in the middle of the ring, and the
energetic
New York crowd gets louder and louder. Bonn is first to rise, but
Kinsey
does the same fairly soon after. Once they're both on their feet
again
Luke swings wildly and nails Bonn to knock him off balance, backs up
and
charges with a clothesline. Instead it's the Nighthawk who stands his
ground and catches, lifts and releases with a uranage slam!]
DR: And the challenger's headed aerial!
AM: HAWKWIND! Come on, drop the Hawkwind and walk out of here the new
champion!
[Bonn goes to the top rope but before he can drop the Hawkwind onto
Kinsey, Maverick distracts the referee while Holliday climbs up and
trips
Bonn, crotching him on the ropes! The audience unleashes hell (verbal
hell) upon the Outlaws for this, and despite Ginny trying to explain
to
the referee what he just fell for Kinsey regains control and slams
Bonn
off the turnbuckle. It's his turn to climb to the top rope now, but
Bonn
gets right back up and prevents Kinsey from doing anything but sitting
on
the top. Luke hammers on Bonn and manages to smash his head into the
top
turnbuckle, then hooks him and tries to position into the Ego Trip.
Michael breaks his grasp and turns around, belts Luke in the stomach
and
applies a front facelock.]
DR: Oh wait, Bonn's got Kinsey in position for the Deadfall! If he
hits
this we're going to have a new heavyweight champion of the world!
AM: The way this match has gone I don't know if I'd call it an upset.
DR: Kinsey's struggling, the fatigue is starting to set in now on
Bonn!
All he's got to do is drive Kinsey into the mat... Kinsey drove him
sternum-first into the turnbuckles! And runs him through the ropes to
the outside!
[Bonn slips through to the outside apron as Kinsey stays on the top
rope,
and a kick to the side of the head drops him right to the floor.
Osawa
again stands between the Outlaws and his partner, but Kinsey climbs to
a
standing position on top and dives off onto Bonn with a moonsault on
the
floor!]
DR: Perhaps a last ditch effort by the champion to put away Michael
Bonn,
and what a maneuver!
AM: Kinsey is so far past desperation, he's gone right to suicidal.
SS: Worked, didn't it?
[Kinsey picks Bonn up and throws him back into the ring, slides
through
the ropes and cradles the Nighthawk for a cover: 1 -- 2 -- KICKOUT!
HUGE
POP!]
DR: NO, BONN KICKED OUT!
SS: You've gotta be kidding me!
[Ginny leads another chant of "Bonn! Bonn!" as the Nighthawk sits up,
fighting the pain and exhaustion. Kinsey rolls to his knees and slaps
the mat in anger before rising up and catching Bonn with a knee to the
side of the head. Knocking him loopy, Kinsey applies a seated full
nelson and pulls Bonn back to his feet from there. Michael responds
with
a headbutt that catches the champ on the bridge of the nose, breaking
the
hold but not drawing any blood. To the dissapointment of the crowd,
of
course.]
DR: Kinsey releases the submission hold, goes to a side headlock but
Bonn
shoves him off and into the ropes, Kinsey with a kamikaze clothesline
that propels them both over the ropes to the arena floor!
SS: Beautiful form by the champ.
[Kinsey lunges at Bonn and keeps him from getting back on his feet,
unloading frantic punches as the official begins to place a count on
the
two wrestlers. The former cruiserweight champion manages to roll
Kinsey
over and unloads with some fists of his own, and the referee yells at
the
both of them to bring it back into the ring.]
DR: The fight's escalating, and I'm not sure they seem to care about
the
referee's ten count!
AM: Of course they care, Kinsey sure as hell heard it!
[Bonn struggles to climb up onto the ring apron but Kinsey grabs him
by
the legs and pulls him back off, sending him backfirst to the boards.
Bonn responds with more fists as his temper takes over, pummeling the
champion without mercy.
Until the bell rings.]
AM: What? No! That can't be all!
DR: I think we just witnessed one of the biggest travesties of justice
in
quite a long time here.
[The brawl continues, as the official climbs out of the ring and
whispers
in the ear of Debs Henshall.]
DH: Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has declared this match...
A DOUBLE COUNTOUT!
DR: No dammit, what a terrible way to end this match!
AM: Michael has to feel like that title just slipped through his
fingers,
he came close on so many occasions!
[The Outlaws separate Kinsey from Bonn and haul their leader halfway
up
the ramp. Bonn, though frustrated, returns to the ring and is
momentarily joined by Ryu and Virginia for a standing ovation from the
crowd. Heavily flustered, Kinsey looks around wildly as Brianna grabs
the title from ringside and gets it back into Luke's hands as the
nearest
camera picks up Luke's voice:]
"GET ME OUT OF HERE! GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"
DR: The Nighthawk came so close to winning tonight, Kinsey saved his
title by sending that match to the floor and he damn well knows it!
AM: This isn't the type of guy you want to represent your company.
SS: First night jitters, that's all this was-
["Advent: One-Winged Angel" by The Black Mages starts up over the PA,
the
lights dim, and a wall of flames starts up at the entrance portal.
This
stops Kinsey dead in his tracks as he wheels around, stunned by this
new
development.]
SS: What the hell is that?
AM: A better question would be who is that, and I have a feeling we're
about to find out.
[Kinsey jumps down to the left of the ramp to avoid this newest
interruption, and makes his way back down to the mouth of the aisle
where
he stands with the Outlaws flanked on one side by Don't Go There, and
on
the other by this rude interruption.
The new Cruiserweight Champion and self-proclaimed "Bastard Legend"
One-Winged Angel emerges out of a trap-door a la The Brood with this
back
to the audience. In his left-hand, his trusty rose-shaped cane. In
the
right, the World Cruiserweight title. There's a decidely mixed-pop as
the
popular turns to face the crowd ; there's still quite a bit of
confusion
of the recruitment of Myra Benedict into Amity.]
DR: Well, it seems we're to be unexpectedly joined by our new and
final Cruiserweight in the UWF.
AM: Are you serious?
DR: What do you mean, Amy?
AM: Did you honestly not expect him to run his mouth after winning a
title and ensuring a world title match?
DR: Well he didn't spend much time gloating last week.
SS: That's the rare exception to the rule.
[The flames behind the cruiser champ die down as he throws the title
belt
over this shoulder and he pulls a microphone from his pocket. 1WA
calls
for the cut of his music with a motion of the cane. He take a moment
for
the crowd the quiet before speaking.]
1WA: New York City, the greatest city in the world....
[Very cheap hometown pop.]
1WA: ....STAAANNNNNNNNNNDDDDDDD UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!
[Another very cheap pop.]
1WA: Ain't this about a bitch. My first time in Madison Sqaure Garden
and
I don't even have a match. Oh well I'm if nothing else a champion
again.
[Again, a somewhat mixed pop.]
1WA: I don't get something though. I intelligently place myself in the
best spot to win this title and get in line for a shot at a World
Title
match and what happens? I have little redheads who apparently spend
more
time with UWF officials going in her their mouths than having anything
bright come out their mouths ripping me.
[A collective "oooh" from the crowd as the camera cuts to a very upset
Amy Marshall.]
1WA: I have Ami bring out Myra Benedict, the toughest woman on the UWF
roster, because Amity needs it. We needed a tough, no-nonsense figure
that commanded respected other than myself and half of your are booing
me for it now. I'm not sure if it's struck anyone, but we're not out
here
for your love. We're having fun, we're going to party with _our_ fans
even 90% of you hate us. We're not A-Rod, we don't collapse we have a
bunch of fair-weather fans.
[And that shifts some boos into the majority.]
1WA: Don't get mad at me about it. We see the people with the Amity
shirts and signs. They keep us going and those are our fellow bastards
that we come out here for. They know what we're doing. And that's
simply
to take things over this year. And all of that starts with one thing
that
whether you like us or not I know everyone here will appreciate.....
....handing Kinsey his ass and making him toss his own salad.
[The crowd pops as 1WA finally makes eye contact with the champ.]
1WA: Luke, I'll keep this short and sweet. I _am_ "The Bastard Legend"
One-Winged Angel. From this moment you _are_ on notice for me coming
to
take what's mine; the World Heavyweight title. And now that we're
properly introduced, I'm going to kick...your....ass!
["Advent: One-Winged Angel" starts up again and 1WA stares down Kinsey
who returns an equally intense glare.]
DR: As always, very strong words from the crusierweight champion. But
for all that bravado, beating Luke Kinsey is going to be a lot harder
than just taking a belt from him.
SS: The only thing I expect him to take from Kinsey is a fist.
DR: Fans, that's all for us this week! We'll see you next week,
goodnight!
[Fade to black.]