[FSW] Saturday Night Slam #2
Pete
[We fade to the logo for Five Star Wrestling...]
[Black again.]
["Last Week..."]
[Cut to Chris Chronic, co-owner of FSW, standing in the ring at the
beginning of the evening.]
CC: I welcome you to Five...Star...Wrestling!
[HUGE POP!]
[Cut to...]
DG: Chris Chronic has made it known that we will see eight men
competing to be the first ever FSW
Television champion!
[We see clips from each of the first four round matches. We see Remy
Gonzalez and Corey Hart going
through a series of pinfalls, we see Ricard catch Kirk Mclean, bring
him into a fireman's carry, and hit
a wicked DVD. We see Pak hit the Silver Devil Buster on John Shock. We
see Rosco Riggins and Ktulu
trading wicked chops and kicks.]
[Cut to...]
DG: And here we go, for the first ever FSW title...the FSW Television
Title is on the line, right now!
[We see clips of Remy Gonzalez, Pak, and Ricard battling for the
television title. We see Pak drill them
both with a shooting star press suicida, we see Remy Gonzalez hit a
Uranage on Ricard, we see Ricard hit
a whiplash slam on Gonzalez. We then see...]
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[SHOCKED POP!]
DG: GONZALEZ DUCKS! RICARD HIT CHRONIC BY MISTAKE!
[Ricard accidentally rams Chronic with a leaping lariat. We then
see...]
DG: Chronic looks like he'll be okay...
JL: RICARD!
[POP!]
DG: KATA HA JIME! RICARD LOCKS IT IN! HE PULLS REMY TO THE CENTER OF
THE RING! HE'S GOT HIM!
[Chronic calls for the bell!]
[DING! DING!]
[HUGE POP!]
DG: RICARD ELIMINATES GONZALEZ FROM THIS MATCH WITH THE KATA HA JIME!
JL: We're down to Ricard and Pak...but that isn't fair.
[Ricard drops Gonzalez, but then turns to see Chronic yelling at him.
Chronic then walks over to Ryan
Allen and tells him something.]
RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the first elimination of the match...
_DUE TO DISQUALIFICATION_...
[HUGE HEEL HEAT!]
RA: RICARD HAS BEEN ELIMINATED!
[HEEL POP!]
DG: WHAT? RICARD IS GONE? WHAT THE HELL?
[We see Ricard's shocked expression, staring at Chronic, as we fade
to...]
[Pak vs. Gonzalez, the TV title on the line. They go move for move,
and we see Pak repeatedly kick out
of Remy's moves, again and again and again.]
[We then cut to...]
[Gonzalez wastes no time, however, picking Pak up and drilling him
with a chop to the chest. He then
takes Pak by the head and tries to toss him over the top rope, but Pak
lands on the apron. Pak smacks
Remy in the face with his elbow to stagger him, and then spring boards
into the ring...]
[...but Remy side steps, dodging a hurricanrana attempt by Pak.
Gonzalez taps his head, telling the
crowd that he's too smart for Pak...]
[...but Pak keeps going and bounces off the far ropes, doing a
backflip onto Remy's shoulders!]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[HUGE BLOW THE ROOF OFF POP!]
DG: SILVER DEVIL BUSTER! SILVER DEVIL BUSTER! COVER HIM, PAK! COVER
HIM!
JL: NO!
[Pak...slowly...barely...makes the cover!]
DG: THE COVER!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEE!?!?!?!?!?
[...]
DG: PAK IS YOUR NEW TELEVISION CHAMP-
JL: NO HE'S NOT! REMY JUST KICKED OUT!
[Chronic holds up two fingers! HUGE HEEL POP!]
DG: NO WAY! THAT WAS SO CLOSE! I THOUGHT THAT WAS THREE!
JL: Well...Chronic says it wasn't!
DG: Dammit, the kid was so close! Come on, Pak! Finish him!
[Remy rises, as does Pak. Pak hits the ropes and hits Remy with a
clothesline that staggers him. He hits
the ropes again, but Remy kicks him in the gut...]
DG: Double underhook...oh no! Pak's fighting it...but...but...
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: THE SACRIFICE! GONZALEZ HITS HIS DOUBLE UNDERHOOK BRAINBUSTER!
JL: YES! THE COVER!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEE!?!?!?!?
[...]
[Chronic holds up...]
[THREE FINGERS!]
[DING! DING! DING!]
DG: GONZALEZ WINS IT...BUT MY GOD, WHAT AN EFFORT BY PAK!
RA: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, and the first ever FSW
Television champion...
"C H R I S T R E B O R N" R E M Y G O N Z A L E Z ! ! !
[HUGE HEEL POP!]
[Fade on Gonzalez, holding his title belt...and then...]
# I, ah-- I, ah-- I against I
[MIXED POP!]
DG: What the hell?
# flesh of my flesh and mind of my mind
# two of a kind but one won't survive
# my image is reflect' in the enemy's eyes
# and his image is reflect' in mine the same time
[As his music plays over the PA system, Ricard walks back down the
aisle, a look of determination on his
face. He walks straight down the ramp and slides into the ring, rising
to his feet and staring down at
Remy Gonzalez, who isn't happy to have his moment of glory ruined...]
# I, ah-- I, ah-- I against I
# flesh of my flesh and mind of my mind
# two of a kind but one won't survive
# my image is reflect' in the enemy's eyes
# and his image is reflect' in mine
# survive, survive, survive, survive
DG: Ricard isn't happy with what happened earlier tonight, and he's
here to-
JL: REMY!
[Gonzalez takes his new FSW TV title belt and swings at the big man,
but Ricard ducks under with great
agility. Gonzalez turns and gets a big forearm shot to the face,
followed by a kick to the gut. Ricard
then pulls Remy into a standing headscissors...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[POP!]
DG: THE FLAW! RICARD DROPS GONZALEZ WITH THE FLAW!
JL: LOOK AT CHRONIC! HE'S PISSED!
[Ricard turns to see Chronic yelling at him for running down at the
end of the show. Chronic gets right
in Ricard's face, pointing his finger and yelling at him. Ricard turns
to look at the crowd and then
turns back to Chronic...]
DG: Chronic DQ-ed Ricard earlier, and...OH NO!
[Ricard _DRILLS_ Chronic in the face to a POP! Ricard then whips him
to the ropes, and lifts him up over
his head into a gorilla press!]
JL: What's he doing?
DG: Ricard...he's got Chronic up!
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!"
[BEATING UP YOUR BOSS POP!]
DG: HE THREW HIM OVER THE TOP AND INTO THE GUARD RAIL! RICARD JUST
ATTACKED CHRIS CHRONIC! I CAN'T
BELIEVE IT!
JL: I think he's going to be fired...
[Ricard turns back to a fallen Gonzalez and lifts his TV title belt of
the mat...Ricard looks at it and
smirks, and then places it on the chest of the fallen Gonzalez.]
DG: WE'RE OUT OF TIME! WHAT A NIGHT! BUT MY GOD, WHAT THE HELL IS
GOING TO HAPPEN _NOW_?
[Ricard raises his arms into the air triumphantly as we...]
[Fade to black.]
[Blackness...]
"
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"
"______CRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK_____!!!"
"______CRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK_____!!!"
"______CRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK_____!!!"
"______CRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK_____!!!"
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"
[Huge pyro illuminates the Lawrence Joel Colliseum in Winston-Salem,
North Carolina, and the arena comes
alive with fans standing, cheering, clapping, and screaming as music
blares over the PA system. The
camera pans around the arena before settling on the center of the
black ring that is the center of
attention in the arena, surrounded by blue ring ropes and a blue apron
with the FSW logo on it. Standing
in the middle of the ring is a young brown-haired gentlemen in a suit
and tie, holding a microphone -
ring announcer Ryan Allen.]
RA: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to...
S A T U R D A Y N I G H T S L A M ! ! !
[HUGE POP!]
RA: Ladies and gentlemen, will you please introduce the co-owner of
Five Star Wrestling...
C H R I S C H R O N I C ! ! !
[MIXED POP!]
[Chronic makes his way to the ring, dressed in a suit and tie, and
holding his own mic. He steps through
the ropes and waves to the fans, and then begins.]
CC: You know, I'm out here tonight because of something that happened
last week on Saturday Night Slam.
Something all of you fans saw at the end of last week's program.
[BEAT UP YOUR BOSS POP!]
CC: Well, it's not something I _want_ to do, but it's something I
_have_ to do. You see, I knew when I
came into this position that I would have plenty of guys test me. It's
something I _expect_. Wrestling
is all about _power_, and guys are going to try and take that power
from you, it's a given. Now, don't
take this the wrong way. I don't want to be that evil owner, standing
up here with my handlebar
mustache and cackling devilishly or something, that's just not me. I'm
just up here to enforce the rules
of our company, for the good of _everybody_ in the long run.
[Chronic pauses, looks around the audience, and then continues.]
CC: Think about it - what would our streets be like if traffic light
violations weren't enforced? It
would be mass chaos! How safe would you feel if there was no
punishment whatsoever for murder? Exactly.
Well, what's my promotion going to be like if I don't step in an
enforce the
laws? What's this promotion going to be like if I show early on that I
don't care?
[Chronic looks into the audience, shrugs his shoulders, and
continues.]
CC: Ricard, last week you came out here and you got yourself
disqualified. You hit a referee, who just
so happened to be me, during a match, Ricard, it got you DQ-ed. And so
what do you do at the end of my
show? You storm back out here and steal the spotlight of the brand new
FSW Television champion, Remy
Gonzalez...
[GONZALEZ HEEL POP!]
CC: ...and then you toss me _jaw first_ into the guard rail!
[POP!]
CC: I'm sorry, big man, but I can't just let it slide. I can't let you
continue to run around my
company, spitting on everything we've created. You've got a ton of
talent, Ricard, but you need to learn
to harness everything...or else you'll be gettin' into a _ton_ of
trouble _real_ quick.
[Chronic nods.]
CC: So what I'm asking is that you come out here _right now_ and
officially apologize to me and to the
fans for your actions last week. That's all I'm asking.
[And Chronic waits.]
CC: Come on, Ricard, I know you're-
[Cue: "I Against I" by Massive Attack and Mos Def. POP!]
# I, ah-- I, ah-- I against I
# flesh of my flesh and mind of my mind
# two of a kind but one won't survive
# my image is reflect' in the enemy's eyes
# and his image is reflect' in mine the same time
[Ricard tosses the curtain aside and powers down the aisle, dressed in
black track pants and boots. His
bald head and granite chest glistening under the lights, he fixes his
gaze on Chronic as he pulls
himself on to the apron.]
# I, ah-- I, ah-- I against I
# flesh of my flesh and mind of my mind
# two of a kind but one won't survive
# my image is reflect' in the enemy's eyes
# and his image is reflect' in mine
# survive, survive, survive, survive
[Effortlessly stepping over the top rope, Ricard walks right up to
Chronic, his 6'9", near-300 pound
frame casting an ominous shadow over the FSW promoter. Ricard puts
his chin in his chest and glares, as
the music fades.]
CC: I didn't want to have to do this, big g--
[Very deliberately, Ricard fastens his hand on Chronic's mic... and
takes it.]
R: You must have a problem with your f[edit]kin' ears or something.
[POP! Ricard turns his back on a clearly-frustrated Chronic, grabbing
the top rope while he waits for
the cheers to die down. He glances back at the boss.]
R: Did you even hear what I said before? [edit]k.
And here's me thinking I couldn't make it much [edit]king clearer for
you.
[He turns to face Chronic again, pecs and biceps straining his tank
top.]
R: You think I owe you an apology?
F[edit]k you.
[HUGE POP! Chronic just shakes his head.]
R: You don't want s[edit] to go down between me and you, allow me to
suggest you keep your ass out of
the ring, and you keep it the f[edit] away from me.
You say this is about power?
... you can bet your ass it's about power.
[He strides up to Chronic and puts a finger in his chest.]
R: Because if you're between these ropes I don't give a [edit] who
you are.
It all looks the same to me, especially when you're in my [edit]kin'
face talking sh[edit]t to me about
what I should and shouldn't be doing. Hear me?
Anyone who opposes me in this ring gets put the [edit] down, sooner or
later. With you I wasn't in the
kinda mood where you wait a while, you know what I'm saying? And if
you think I'll apologise for
anything I do in this ring...
... you'd better be prepared to make me. So go ahead.. [edit]kin'
_try_.
[He slams the mic into Chronic's chest. Chronic stares at him for a
second, stunned, and then grabs the
mic and speaks, angered.]
CC: Was I asking for too much? I'm not trying to be a bad guy here! I
just wanted an apology for you
thinking it was neccessary to drop Gonzalez after the match last week,
and an apology for trying to
break my damn jaw by tossing me over the top and into the guard rail!
Well that's too much for you,
isn't it, big man? You're just too big a man to apologize to your boss
in front of all these people, is
that it?
[Chronic shakes his head in disbelief, and stops pacing around the
ring and looks at Ricard.]
CC: Well let me tell _you_ something, Ricard. Yeah, it _is_ all about
power. And you know what? No
matter what ego trip you're on, the fact of the matter is that _I_
have the power to dictate what goes
on in this ring week in and week out. And, since you've made your
choice, Ricard...since you've decided
to travel down this path, then I've got no other choice then to teach
you a lesson or two. So, tonight,
in this very ring, in a match with stipulations to be named, in one
corner you will have Ricard...
[POP!]
CC: And in the other corner...
[Dramatic pause.]
[...]
CC: Aw hell, why should I even tell you? You'll find out later
tonight, big man.
[HUGE HEEL POP!]
[And with that, Chronic drops the mic to the ground and slides out of
the ring, leaving Ricard in the
ring, wondering who he'll be facing later tonight. Chronic and Ricard
lock eyes as Ricard's music plays
again over the PA system. We cut back to ringside to see Damon Gleave
and Jeff Lang, the announcers for
the show.]
DG: Hi fans and welcome once again to FSW Saturday Night Slam! Last
week's show was certainly a success,
and this show is shaping up to be a great one as well!
JL: It sure is! We just heard in the ring that Ricard will be
wrestling in the main event tonight
against an opponent to be named, in a match with stipulations to be
named! Chronic obviously had an
inkling that Ricard wouldn't want to give him the apology he craved,
so he went out and got somebody to
take on Ricard! Who is it? I want to know!
DG: We'll find out later tonight, Jeff. Also tonight, Remy Gonzalez
makes his first defense of the FSW
Television title when he takes on the challenger, John Shock.
JL: Gonzalez impressed everybody last week, I'm sure. He showed a ton
of in-ring ability and got the job
done, becoming the first ever FSW Television champion. But hey, for
the son of God, what else would you
expect?
DG: Yeah, right. John Shock had a great match with Pak last week, and
will be looking to bounce back in
this one. He certainly has all the talent to get the job done. Also
tonight we'll see a _huge_ tag team
encounter as Ktulu will team with the monstrous Mason Walker to take
on Rosco Riggins and Pak!
JL: We saw Walker last week take out both Pak and Shock after their
match. Some say he cost Pak the TV
title, although I don't buy it. But the man is a monster, and it'll be
fun to see him in action tonight.
DG: And don't forget the _incredible_ battle Ktulu and Riggins had
last time out, ending in a time limit
draw. These two will clash again tonight, each looking to prove
himself better the other.
JL: That one's gonna be fun.
DG: But, our first match of the evening will feature Corey Hart taking
on Kirk Mclean. The winner of
this match will also get a shot at the television title next week!
Let's head to the ring.
* /\ * ___________________________________________________
____/ \__ /
\ / FIVE STAR WRESTLING - SATURDAY NIGHT SLAM
> FSW < Winner gets TV title shot
/___ ___\
* \ / \ "Captivating" Corey Hart vs. "Hurricane" Kirk Maclean
\/ * \__________________________________________________
WRITER: Pete
[DING DING!]
DG: This one should be a dandy, Hart versus Maclean.
JL: Yes...er..."dandy."
DG: What?
JL: You sound like...nevermind.
DG: Uh...okay.
[Hart and Maclean shake hands before the match starts, to a pop from
the crowd.]
DG: Good sportsmanship.
JL: Ugggh.
DG: Here we go - collar and elbow tie up, and now Maclean grabs a side
headlock on Corey Hart. Both
these guys can really move, but Hart is the faster of the two - we'll
see if Maclean tries to slow him
down here tonight.
[Maclean holds the side headlock and wrenches away, but Hart is able
to push him to the ropes. Maclean
bounds off them and drops Hart with a shoulder block. He then hits the
ropes again, but Hart pops up and
takes Maclean down with an arm drag. Back up, and back down with
another arm drag. Hart connects with a
dropkick that puts Maclean down, and covers, but Maclean kicks out at
one and nips up, and quickly takes
Hart down in a headlock. Hart reverses the hold into a leg scissors,
but Maclean reverses that by
flipping Hart over and quickly going back to the headlock, Hart on his
stomach in the middle of the
ring.]
JL: Hart's in that position a lot...[cackles.]
DG: You're an idiot.
[Maclean lifts Hart up, holding the headlock. Hart slips out of it and
tries a back drop suplex, but
Maclean lands on his feet. Maclean grabs a waistlock and tries a
German suplex, but Hart lands on _his_
feet. Hart sweeps out Maclean's legs, and takes Kirk down to the mat,
where he hooks his arm and begins
to wrench away at it. Maclean does a nice roll into a reversal of the
arm wringer, and works on Corey's
arm. Corey hits the ropes and flips off of them, reversing the arm
wringer again in a sequence that gets
a pop from the crowd. Maclean reverses into a hammerlock, but Corey
Hart rams his elbow into Maclean's
jaw two times to break, and then hits the ropes...]
"THWAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: Oh man! Hart eats a big dropkick to the jaw! Maclean caught him
right there!
[Maclean quickly lifts Hart back up to his feet and takes Hart to the
mat with another arm drag. He
hooks an arm bar. Hart tries to get back up, but Maclean snaps him
back down to the mat and hooks on a
cross arm scissors.]
DG: Cross arm scissors submission applied by Kirk Maclean.
JL: Why's he working on Hart's arm? The kid's a high flyer?
DG: I don't know, but I wouldn't really doubt Kirk Maclean - he's a
great veteran who really knows what
he's doing in the ring.
JL: Yeah, but still...
DG: Most of Maclean's submissions focus on the arm...why not go after
it?
JL: I guess.
[Hart reaches out and grabs the ropes, and Maclean quickly breaks the
hold. Maclean grabs Hart and drags
him to the center of the ring. He applies a front chancery and lifts
Hart, dropping him chest first
across the top rope. Hart falls to the apron, but as Maclean
approaches him, he nails him with a
shoulder to the gut, and then another.]
DG: Hart with a springboard...into a hurricanrana!
[POP!]
DG: Great move by Hart...and he follows with a great spinning heel
kick! The cover!
ONE!!!
TWO-KICKOUT!!!
DG: Maclean quickly kicks out of it. Back up, and Hart grabs a front
facelock, and hits a snap suplex on
Maclean.
[Hart hits the ropes and drops a quick leg drop across the throat of
Maclean. He then picks him back up
and goes for another suplex, but this time Maclean blocks it, lifts
Hart...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Maclean reverses into his own suplex...and look how quickly he
goes back to the cross arm scissors!
Maclean is so quick on the mat, and he locks the submission in on
Corey Hart!
[Hart reaches for the ropes, but can't get a hold of them. Maclean
keeps the arm scissors locked in,
wrenching away at Hart's arm. The ref checks for a submission, but
Hart tells him no. Hart finally
reaches out and grabs a hold of the ropes, and Maclean once again
breaks the hold.]
DG: Maclean softening up the elbow and shoulder of Corey Hart early on
in this encounter.
JL: I'd take out his legs...so much of his offense comes from his
legs!
DG: We know what _you'd_ do...but you're not in the ring, are you?
JL: Well, I _should_ be.
DG: Yeah right.
[Maclean drags Hart to the middle of the ring, but Hart catches him
with an elbow to the top of the
head. Hart kicks Maclean in the gut and goes for a DDT, but Maclean
blocks it and spins himself into a
Russian leg sweep, snapping Hart back to the mat. And, once again,
Maclean locks in the cross arm
scissors.]
DG: Cross arm scissors applied for a _third_ time!
JL: Yeah, well he...
DG: HART FLIPS ONTO MACLEAN FOR THE PIN!
ONE!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEE-
[POP!]
DG: Maclean just kicks out of it. Great reversal by Hart, though.
JL: Maclean went to the well once too often.
[Both men are back up, and hit the ropes. They collide in a high cross
body, Maclean's weight taking him
over onto Hart for the pin!]
DG: What a collision!
ONE!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRREEEEEEE-
[POP!]
DG: Hart kicks out of it. Back up, and another arm drag take down by
Maclean. Back up, another one
blocked, and Hart hip tosses Maclean to the mat. Back up, and to the
corner.
[Maclean slingshots over a charging Hart in the corner, and then grabs
a waistlock. He tries a suplex,
but Hart holds the turnbuckles to block. Hart then slinghshots up,
spins, hooking his legs around
Maclean's head, and snaps him head first into the turnbuckle!]
DG: Oh! Turnbuckle hurricanrana! Great counter by Corey Hart!
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: And a springboard guillotine leg drop! He hooks the leg!
ONE!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRREEEEE-
DG: Maclean gets the shoulder up - another near fall.
[Hart picks Maclean back up and chops him across the chest to a
"WHOO!" from the crowd. He does it again
and then goes for an Irish whip, but Maclean reverses. Hart comes off
the ropes with a flying forearm
that catches Maclean in the jaw, sending him between the ropes and to
the apron. Hart nips back up and
leaps towards the corner...]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[POP!]
DG: Springboard dropkick to the face of Maclean! Hart knocks him off
the apron and to the floor!
JL: Hey...I'm betting Hart takes a dive, right here.
DG: You may be...LOOK OUT!!!
"CRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!"
"F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!"
"F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!"
"F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!"
"F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!"
"F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!"
DG: HART WITH A SUICIDE SOMERSAULT PLANCHA!
JL: I don't know who got the worst of that, man...Hart hit the rail
pretty hard...but he really drilled
Maclean, too.
[Hart slowly gets to his feet, and the crowd gives him a nice round of
applause. He picks Maclean up by
the head and rolls him back into the ring, and then points to the top
rope. The crowd cheers.]
DG: Hart's headed up top, with Maclean slowly getting up...he may want
to hit the Captivated right
here...
JL: MACLEAN!
[Maclean runs up the ropes, hooking Hart up top...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: MACLEAN WITH AN OVERHEAD BELLY TO BELLY SUPERPLEX!
JL: WHOA! HE CAME OUT OF _NOWHERE_!
DG: AND MACLEAN HEADS UP TOP!
JL: Eye of the Storm, coming up...
[Maclean readies himself up top, Hart down on the mat in pain...]
DG: HERE HE COMES!
[Maclean leaps...]
[...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: NO! HART ROLLED OUT OF THE WAY! MACLEAN MISSES HIS CORKSCREW
SOMERSAULT SENTON OFF THE TOP!
JL: HART WITH A LA MAGISTRAL CRADLE!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEE!?!?
[...]
[POP!]
DG: NO! MACLEAN JUST KICKS OUT!
JL: Man...I thought Hart had him right there.
DG: Smart job by Corey Hart to roll out of the way and then roll up
Maclean when he was still feeling
the brunt of the blow.
[Hart quickly pulls a stunned Maclean back up and twists, taking him
down with a backslide!]
DG: Backslide!
ONE!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRRRREEEE-
[Maclean rolls out of the pinning predicament and kicks Hart in the
gut, bringing him into a standing
headscissors. He lifts him...]
DG: Powerbomb...NO! Hart reverses with a hurricanrana into a pin!
ONE!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEE-
[POP!]
DG: Maclean kicks out _again_! Corey Hart is so dangerous, taking down
Maclean repeatedly for pinfall
attempts!
JL: If that's what you consider dangerous, I guess.
[Maclean ducks under a kick attempt by Hart and hits the ropes. Hart
spins and tries a dropkick, but
Maclean holds the ropes and Hart falls to the mat.]
DG: Smart veteran move by Kirk Maclean right there.
[Maclean pounces, dropping a leg across the throat of Hart and then
flipping him over and locking in...]
DG: Oh! Look at this submission!
JL: It looks like a double arm lock STF...oh man, Corey Hart is
_really_ in trouble here. Maclean's
gonna grind him into the mat.
DG: Hart's in big trouble...Maclean with a great submission maneuver
applied...how the hell do you get
out of _this_ thing?
[The ref checks for a submission, but Hart shakes his head no.]
DG: Maclean is really showing us what a great veteran wrestler he
is...I tell you what, both of these
guys deserve a win here, and no matter who _does_ win, they're going
to put up one hell of a fight next
time out for the FSW Television championship.
[Maclean keeps the hold applied, and the ref checks on Hart again,
Hart still saying he doesn't submit.]
JL: How the hell is Corey Hart not tapping out?
[Frustrated, Maclean pulls Hart back to his feet, still hooking both
his arms...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: TIGER SUPLEX WITH A BRIDGE!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRREEEEE-
[POP!]
DG: No! Hart kicks out of it! Maclean still has that double
chickenwing locked in, though...back
up...into a cradle!
ONE!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRREEEEEEE-
[POP!]
DG: Hart kicks out again!
JL: Maclean just won't let up, man...he's going to get Hart one of
these times, probably.
[Maclean lifts Hart back up, but Hart fights and gets his arms free,
Maclean still behind him...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: STUNNER! HART CATCHES MACLEAN WITH A STUNNER OUT OF NOWHERE!
JL: But he can't make the cover...both men are down and out!
[The referee counts both men down as the crowd urges both men up.]
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
[Both men start to stir...]
"SEVEN!"
"EIGHT!"
DG: They're both up! Here we go! Right hands by Hart! Right hands by
Maclean!
[Hart kicks Maclean in the gut and whips him, but Maclean reverses it.
Hart comes back with a spinning
martial arts kick...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: MACLEAN CATCHES HIM WITH A CAPTURE SUPLEX! GREAT COUNTER TO HART'S
KICK!
[Maclean hops to the second rope and waits for Hart to get back up...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: C-4! C-4! HE HIT IT! HE HOOKS THE LEG!
ONE!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEE!?!?
[...]
[POP!]
DG: HART KICKS OUT!
JL: Hey, that was only the C-4...Maclean could still hit the C-5!
DG: And it looks like that's what he's going for right here! Maclean
is headed up to the top rope!
[Maclean, clearly a bit gassed, heads to the top rope, Hart on the mat
below in pain. However, Hart pops
up as Maclean reaches the top rope, and hops to the top rope himself
in one fluid motion, leaping and
hooking his legs around Maclean's head...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[HUGE POP!]
DG: SUPER HURRICANRANA INTO A PIN!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!
DG: MACLEAN ROLLS THROUGH FOR THE PIN!
ONE!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEE!?!?!?
[...]
[HUGE POP!]
DG: NO! HART KICKS OUT! THE MATCH GOES ON!
JL: Whoa!
DG: What an effort each man is putting forth here tonight...simply
amazing!
[Bith men slowly rise to their feet. Maclean swings and misses, and
Hart goes behind with a waistlock.
He lifts, but Maclean blocks a German suplex.]
DG: JACKNIFE ROLL UP!
ONE!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRREEEEEEEE!?!?
[POP!]
DG: No! Hart kicks out of it! Maclean holds the legs...and snaps Hart
right into a leg vice! Great move
by the veteran...but Hart reaches out and grabs the ropes!
[The ref forces Maclean to break the hold, and he does. He backs off
as Hart gets back to his feet.
Maclean then tries for a takedown, but Hart leaps over him and hits
the ropes. Maclean pops up and kicks
Hart in the gut, and then hooks both his arms.]
DG: Tiger driver...no! Hart sweeps out Maclean's legs! Slingshot into
the corner...Maclean lands on the
second rope!
[POP!]
DG: Springboard hurricanrana takes Hart down! Quickly back up, and off
the ropes!
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[HUGE POP!]
DG: WRIST CLUTCH EXPLODER! WHAT A SUPLEX BY MACLEAN! HE HOOKS THE LEG!
ONE!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRREEEEEEEE!?!?!?
[...]
DG: NOOOOO! Hart kicks out of it _AGAIN_!
JL: What will keep either of these guys down? Honestly!
[Maclean shakes his head and quickly heads back towards the top rope.
But Hart gets up and catches
Maclean with a forearm shot to the jaw as he's up top. Hart climbs up
top with Maclean and hooks for a
superplex, but Maclean blocks.]
DG: Maclean's fighting it...he's...he's...
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: WHOA! SUNSET FLIP POWERBOMB ALL THE WAY OFF THE TOP!
JL: MURDER! DEATH! KILL! GAAAAAAAAAAAH!
DG: BOTH MEN ARE DOWN! WHO CAN GET UP FIRST? CAN MACLEAN MAKE THE
COVER!
[The crowd urges both men up as the ref counts each of them down...]
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
"SEVEN!"
[Both men start to stir! POP!]
"EIGHT!"
"NINE!"
"TEN-"
[HUGE POP!]
DG: They're back up, and - HEY! WAIT A MINUTE!
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[A _MASSIVE_ figure enters the ring and drills Hart and Maclean with
lariats to the back of the neck!
The crowd booes massively as the monstrous man tosses the referee out
of the ring and goes back to
pummeling both Hart and Maclean! Huge heel pop!]
[DING! DING! DING!]
["BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"]
DG: No! Who is this guy? He ruined a _great_ match that was going on!
[The massive man hooks Hart in a front facelock and lifts for a
suplex, but then _DRIVES_ him down to
the mat with a powerbomb finish...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
JL: OH MAN! Did you see that? He crushed Hart like a bug!
[The monstrous figure picks up Maclean and does the same thing to
him...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: What a powerbomb variation to Maclean! What a monster! What the
hell is he doing here?
[In the ring is a giant of a man. 'Genocide' Jack Ripper. 6'11,
356lbs of
power and destruction. The fans are murmuring, wondering who this is.]
JR: You want to know who I am don't you? I'll tell you who I am. I'm
the man without weakness. I'm the
apocalypse encased in flesh. I'm the man that every wrestler in the
world has ever feared of facing.
They feared the time would never come. But now it has. I'm the man who
has had to come to America
because there was no one left in Europe who would fight me.
I'm the man who is looking forward to destroying each and every single
one of
your heroes, every single one of your 'favorites'. I'm going to
replace each of
them with a broken, bloody, beaten mess. And I'm going to enjoy every
second doing it.
I'm the man who is 6'11, 356 lbs if irrepresible force. No one can
match me. No one can best me.
Run from me.
I'll catch you.
Hide from me.
I'll find you.
Stand up to me.
I'll destroy you.
[The fans boo heavily. Ripper seems to revel in it. He looks down to
the mat and sees Maclean and Hart
rolling around in pain, and laughs.]
JR: I know what you're thinking.
You're thinking [mocking nasal voice] "We've seen this all before."
[Ripper glares out at the crowd and slaps his titanic chest before he
shouts
angrily.]
YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THIS BEFORE.
And soon you'll begin to see why.
[HEEL POP!]
[Ripper turns back to Maclean and Hart and continues to stomp both of
them down. A group of officials
begins to come out, but as they try and get on the apron, Ripper
swings his massive arm at them to scare
them off. Ripper then lifts Corey Hart into a gorilla press!]
DG: Look at the power!
[...and Ripper tosses Hart over the top rope onto all the security and
officials!]
JL: Whoa! Hart went for a ride!
[Ripper then grabs Maclean and applies another front
facelock...apparently going for his Mother of All
Bombs (MOAB) again...when a figure jumps the rail...]
[RUN IN POP!]
DG: He's going to destroy Maclean aga-WAIT A MINUTE!
[The figure enters the ring, holding a chair...]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[Three chair shots to the back of Ripper only anger him.]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[But three more between the eyes put him down!]
DG: Who is that? Wait...that's...
[The crowd recognizes this man...]
DG: That's _DESPAIR_! DESPAIR IS HERE IN FSW!
[Despair stands over a fallen Ripper, chair held high in the air.
POP!]
JL: Why the hell did he want to help Kirk Maclean?
DG: I have no idea!
[Despair helps Maclean to his feet, and an angry Maclean begins to
stomp down the fallen Ripper, along
with Despair! HUGE POP!]
DG: Yeah! They're getting some revenge!
[Corey Hart then slides into the ring, looks at Despair and Maclean,
shrugs, and...]
[POP!]
DG: HART JOINS IN! THREE ON ONE BEATDOWN OF THIS BIG MAN!
[Ripper quickly rolls to the outside, where he regroups, holding his
head as Hart, Maclean, and Despair
look on from the ring.]
DG: Despair is here in FSW, and he saved Maclean...but why?
JL: And who the hell is this big man?
DG: We've got plenty of questions still to answer. Wait - what's that?
Okay, folks, I'm being informed
that the big man we just saw is named "Genocide" Jack Ripper...and
that FSW has signed both he and
Despair to contracts!
JL: Oh man! I bet we see a bloody battle between those two sometime in
the near future...Despair is
_VERY_ hardcore.
DG: But Despair...helping _Maclean_? Anyone who knows the history
between those two and what kind of man
we thought Despair was...well...this comes as a surprise.
[Despair exits the ring and hops the guard rail, leaving through the
crowd as a puzzled Corey Hart and
Kirk Maclean look on...]
JL: One more thing...who the hell gets the shot at the TV title?
[Black. Ad time.]
www.geocities.com/five_star_wrestling_2003
Check it out!
[Back to the show.]
DG: We're back, ladies and gentlemen, and two men we haven't seen
before are in the ring - Chris
Chronic is at the top of the ramp. Let's take a listen.
CC: Ladies and gentlemen, I want to introduce you to the _FUTURE_ of
the FSW tag team
division...HEAVEN'S HUNTED - Saul Larson and Cain Jacobs!
[SLIGHT HEEL POP!]
CC: I know you guys are going to do well for yourselves here in FSW -
hell, that's why I signed you!
And for the fans here tonight, why don't we see an exhibition of
exactly what you guys can do in the
ring? Let's get two guys out to the ring, and see what you can do
against them. Let's show the fans the
future of the FSW tag team division...Heaven's Hunted. And let's give
you a _real_ challenge...
[Chronic laughs, and Larson and Jacobs smirk from in the ring.]
CC: Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you the tag team of Rexx
Steelhart and Dark Holy Matt!
[...]
[Silence.]
JL: And the arena goes apathetic!
[Two men make their way down to the ring. One is blonde, dressed in
all pink attire, including pink
ring tights that say "Rexx" on the back in black letters. He is
accompanied by a large, fat, bald, pale
white man dressed in all black and carrying what looks to be a copy
of the Bible. Larson and Jacobs
laugh as Rexx and Matt enter the ring, and the bell rings.]
* /\ * ___________________________________________________
____/ \__ /
\ / FIVE STAR WRESTLING - SATURDAY NIGHT SLAM
> FSW < Tag team challenge
/___ ___\
* \ / \ Heaven's Hunted vs. The Jobbers (Rexx Steelhart and
Dark Holy Matt)
\/ * \__________________________________________________
WRITER: Pete
[DING DING!]
JL: Here we go! Call the jobber patrol!
DG: You've got to be kidding me...is Chronic playing a joke on us?
[Steelhart and Jacobs start, and tie up. Jacobs snaps him into a side
headlock, and Steelhart shoves
him to the ropes. Jacobs comes back and drops him with a shoulder
block. Jacobs lifts Steelhart back up
and whips him to the ropes. He lifts Steelhart into the air as if to
hit a flapjack, but then catches
him in a fireman's carry...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: OH! GORILLA PRESS INTO A SAMOAN DROP!
[Jacobs makes a tag to Larson.]
DG: Saul Larson in now.
[Larson and Jacobs hit a double team elbow drop. Larson hits the
ropes and hits a big splash as Jacobs
hits a leg drop across Steelhart's throat.]
JL: Look, Chronic's watching from the top of the ramp and laughing.
DG: I wonder if he'll be watching during our main event later
tonight...who the hell is going to be
taking on Ricard?
[Larson pulls Steelhart up and delivers some right hands to the face.
Steelhart fights back with a kick
to the gut, and backs Larson into the corner. Steelhart delivers some
chops, and then climbs to the
second rope and starts to deliver some punches. The crowd counts
along.]
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR-"
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Larson out of the corner with a _MASSIVE_ powerbomb to Steelhart!
That was just _wicked_!
[Larson lifts Steelhart up and carries him in front of him. He then
falls back...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Gorgeous fallaway slam from Saul Larson.
[Larson tags Jacobs back in. Jacobs takes Rexx by the arm lifts him
up, and then snaps him back to the
mat with a reverse Russian leg sweep. Jacobs heads to the second rope
and waits for Rexx to get up...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Whoa! Leaping swinging neckbreaker off the second rope!
[Jacobs then gets on Rexx's back, locking his ankles behind his legs
and then pulling back on his neck
with a camel clutch submission.]
DG: What a submission move!
JL: He calls that the Spider's Nest! That's the Spider's Nest!
[The ref checks for a submission...]
[DING! DING! DING!]
RA: Ladies and gentlemen, your winners...
H E A V E N ' S H U N T E D ! ! !
[HEEL POP!]
DG: Whoo hoo. What a win.
JL: What a battle! [Cackles.]
CC: There you have it, folks, the newest signies to FSW, and quite
possibly the future FSW tag team
champions...Heaven's Hunted!
[Chronic smirks and exits back through the curtain as the crowd
suddenly lets out a HEEL POP!]
DG: Hey...enough is enough!
[Jacobs and Larson keep the beating up, pummeling both Dark Holy Matt
and Rexx Steelhart. Jacobs
continues to lock the Spider's Nest in on a screaming Steelhart, as
Larson takes a steel chair, and...]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: OH! CHAIR SHOT TO MATT'S SKULL! THAT WAS _SICK_!
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: ANOTHER ONE! MATT HAS BEEN BUSTED OPEN!
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: AND _ANOTHER_ CHAIR SHOT!
[Larson then sets the chair down and hauls up a bloody Dark Holy
Matt...]
"CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANK!"
[HUGE HEEL POP!]
DG: PILEDRIVER ON THE CHAIR! GET THESE TWO THE HELL OUT OF THE RING!
[Larson and Jacobs toss Steelhart and Matt out of the ring and pose
for the crowd as they get booed.]
DG: Heaven's Hunted...what Chronic calls the "future" of the FSW tag
team division...what's their
relationship with Chronic?
JL: Who knows.
[The crowd cheers as two men jump the railing and slide into the ring
behind Larson and Jacobs.]
DG: Who are these two men?
JL: Turn around, guys!
[RUN IN POP!]
[The two men tap Heaven's Hunted on the shoulder, and as they turn
around
they're met with dual dropkicks that send them into the ropes...]
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[...followed up by dual clotheslines that send them out to the
concrete! POP!]
DG: This crowd absolutely loves it!
JL: Cheaters! They blindsided Heaven's Hunted!
[With the backing of the crowd, the two men grab the top rope, vault
to
standing position on the rope...]
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!"
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!"
[HUGE HIGH SPOT POP!]
[...then springboard off with simultaneous Phoenix Splashes onto
Heaven's Hunted!]
DG: WHAT AN AMAZING MANEUVER! STEREO SUICIDE PHOENIX SPLASHES! I'VE
NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE IT!
JL: I've seen better from circus monkeys!
[The duo then gets to the feet, sliding back into the ring and
climbing the
turnbuckles. The crowd goes crazy as the two men raise their arms into
the
air, the camera zooming in closer to see their identities.]
DG: Wait! That's "All The Rage" Justin Cage and "Techno Dragon" Trance
Extacy! Cage is a former EMWC Tag Team Champion, and Extacy is just
coming
back after a DJ tour of Europe!
JL: Great... an egomaniac and a raver. What were they thinking?
[Cage calls for a microphone as he and Extacy descend the turnbuckles.
The
two men wait for the crowd to die down, before looking down at
Heaven's
Hunted and beginning to speak.]
JC: So boys, was _that_ enough of a challenge for you?
[MEGA FACE POP~!]
JC: You can consider this ass-kicking a "Welcome to FSW" gift...
TE: For us, anyway.
[The two men smile as the crowd eats it up.]
JC: We sat in the back, watching this sad display of testosterone on
parade. And with each team that got beaten, the need for a _quality_
team
to take care of you two grew and grew.
TE: That's where we come in.
[The females in the crowd cheer for the rainbow-haired raver.]
TE: Let's see what you can do against a _real_ tag team. A team
comprised
of myself, Trance Extacy...
[Extacy places a hand on his chest.]
TE: And Justin Cage, one-half of the greatest tag team ever to grace
the
ropes.
[Extacy places his hand on Cage's shoulder.]
JC: We're just two guys out to have some fun at other people's
expense...
'cause we've got the skills to pay the bills.
TE: You're looking at the sensation sweeping the nation.
JC: Next week, right here, we're going to hook it up.
[ANOTHER LOUD POP~!]
TE: Beating you is going to feel so right...
JC: 'Cause you'll be beat by Youth Gone Wrong.
TE: See you next week, boys.
[With that, "The Anthem" by Good Charlotte plays over the P.A. System,
as
Youth Gone Wrong celebrates some more in the ring. They then exit
through
the bottom rope, stepping over Heaven's Hunted on their way.]
DG: Youth Gone Wrong! What an addition to the tag team ranks of FSW!
JL: I tell you what, man...they got away with jumping Heaven's Hunted
from behind tonight, but next week
there won't be any surprises...Youth Gone Wrong is going down.
DG: We'll see about that, it sure looks like it'll be a heated and
exciting contest. Well folks, next up
we have a _HUGE_ tag team match, as Pak will team up with Rosco
Riggins to take on Ktulu and the
debuting Mason Walker!
JL: This should be a good one.
DG: Pak is definitely looking for some revenge in this one.
[We cut to clips of Mason Walker taking out John Shock and Pak after
their match last week, and dropping
Pak to the mat with a huge crucifix neckbreaker he calls the Fateful
Conclusion.]
DG: Pak may have lost his chance at the TV title right there, when
Walker ambushed him for seemingly
nothing! Pak requested this match, and will team up with Riggins here
tonight.
JL: And what a battle we saw last week between Riggins and Ktulu,
ending in a time limit draw...these
are two of the top guys in the business in that ring...it'll be fun to
see what happens tonight.
DG: Let's go to Ryan Allen for the introductions.
* /\ * ___________________________________________________
____/ \__ /
\ / FIVE STAR WRESTLING - SATURDAY NIGHT SLAM
> FSW < Tag team grudge match
/___ ___\
* \ / \ Rosco Riggins and Pak vs. Ktulu and Mason Walker
\/ * \__________________________________________________
WRITER: Pete
RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a tag team grudge
match scheduled for one fall, with
a twenty minute time limit!
[Small pop!]
RA: Introducing first!
[The lights go out, save a few which emit a silver glow over the
entrance.
The crashing intro to Vader's "Epitaph (For Humanity)" rings out, the
intermittent guitars and drums playing in sync with the silver lights
giving off quick
flashes of red.]
# Watching out the flowing people #
# How you define the mob #
# Miserable life of rats #
# Claiming the friends of God #
[From the back steps Ktulu. His medium silver hair hangs over the
sides of
his face. His pants are the long, black pants of a Kung Fu gi. Down
the side of
his left leg is a large "Life" kanji, with an equally large "Death"
kanji on the
right. The black sleeveless martial arts jacket he wears bares a red
and
black yin-yang on the back.]
# The absence of intelligence #
# Means stupidity and blindness #
# For things which leave and die #
# In the end #
[Around his neck hangs a golden anhk pendant. He wears black combat
boots on
his feet, plated Japanese forearm guards, cut- off leather gloves on
his
hands. His right hand grips a metal sandanbo staff, which is held
behind him and
across his shoulders. With a mixed look of half arrogance and half
malice, Ktulu
paces towards the ring, his hazel-green eyes showing no hesitation.]
# They want to crucify me #
# First throwing stones #
# I am sinking into the mire named human race #
# It doesn't matter how hard you're trying #
# This world is lost #
[Ktulu rests the sandanbo against the ring before jumping up onto the
apron
and stepping through the ropes. He walks to the center throws three
warm-up
quick kicks.]
RA: From Badlands, South Dakota, weighing 258 pounds...
K T U L U ! ! !
[HUGE MIXED POP!]
DG: Ktulu gained some respect with his awesome effort last
week...let's see what he can do this time
out.
RA: And his partner!
[The screaming guitars of "Rebel Yell" by HIM explode over the arena
sound
system to a loud chorus of boos from the arena. As the drums kick in,
the
massive form of Mason Walker, led by his agent Solomon Harvey and
"accountant", the voluptuous Daisy Lane, appears from behind the
curtains.
The spotlights hit Walker's muscled frame and he shadows both members
of his
management team. All 3 look around the arena, Walker staring coldly,
Harvey
cackling like the maniac that he is, and Lane looking like she's
trying to
seduce every person in the audience...]
RA: Making his way to the ring, accompanied by Solomon Harvey and
Daisy
Lane, he weighs in at 275 pounds and heils from Charleston, South
Carolina,
here is...
M A S O N W A L K E R ! ! !
[The negativity from the crowd only intensifies at the mention of his
name.
Walker and company make their way down towards the ring. As they get
to the
ring, Harvey and Lane circle around to Walker's corner as the big man
slowly
walks up the ringsteps and into the ring...]
DG: What a monster...what an absolute monster this guy is.
JL: No kidding.
RA: And there opponents!
[HUGE POP!]
#DYNAMITE RAVE!#
["Revolution 909" by Daft Punk hits and Pak explodes out of the back,
running halfway to the ring before stopping. Wearing a pair of white
cargo
pants and a white wifebeater, Pak starts to thrash his head up and
down in
the Headbanger for a few moments before waiting for his partner.]
DG: There's the very popular Pak...he looks ready to go.
RA: Weighing 196 pounds, this is the "JERSEY DEVIL"...
P A K ! ! !
[BIG POP!]
RA: And his partner!
[Anticipation pop!]
[Familiar guitar chords ring out over the PA, familiar lights awash
the
arena...
...and a familiar rumbling of cheers ripples through the thousands in
attendance.]
#Now I've told you this once before
#You can't control me
#If you try to take me down you're gonna break
[The rumbling increases as Rosco Riggins steps through the entrance
way. He
pauses for nary a second, making a methodical path towards the ring.
His
ice
blue eyes waver from side to side, catching the gaze of random fans.]
#Now I feel your every nothing that you're doing for me
#I'm picking you outta me
#You run away
[Riggins stops at the bottom of the entrance ramp, locking stares with
the
silver haired Ktulu in the ring. His arms hang at his side, his gaze
a
determined intensity, his stance an unwavering stoicism.]
RA: From Edmonton, Alberta, weighing in at 245lbs...
R O S C O R I G G I N S ! ! !
[BIG POP!]
#I stand alone
#Inside
#I stand alone
[Riggins is dressed in all black. His trunks are mid thigh length,
his tree
trunk like legs poured into matching knee pads and 1/2 length boots.
His
torso is bare, his elbows wrapped in black braces, his hands taped up
half way up
his forearms in a matte black.]
#You're always hiding behind your so called goddess
#So what you don't think that we can see your face
#Resurrected back before the final fallen
#Now they've arrest utill I can make my own way
[The lean musculature of Riggins heads towards the ring. His strong
feature matches his physique, a
leaner, more vascular look than last seen. His neck is almost non
existent, his shoulders wide, his
back powerful. His brown hair is highlighted in shades of both darker
and
lighter a strip of similar hair running from his bottom lip to his
chin.]
#I'm not afraid of fading
#I stand alone
#Feeling your sting down inside of me
#I'm not dying for it
[Riggins joins Pak and the two head to the ring...]
#I stand alone
#Everything that I believe is fading
#I stand alone
#Inside
#I stand alone
[And as Pak and Riggins slide into the ring...it's on.]
[DING! DING! DING!]
DG: Buckle up, everybody! Here we go!
[Walker and Pak and Riggins and Ktulu pair off, trading right hands
and chops and palm strikes and all
sorts of blows. Walker backs Pak to the rops and charges, but Pak
ducks down and lowers the ropes,
sending Walker to the floor! Ktulu charges at Riggins, only to be back
dropped all the way to the floor!
POP!]
DG: Riggins and Pak clear the ring early on!
[The ref, Luke White, gets things settled down, and everyone gets to
their corners.]
DG: Riggins and Ktulu want each other, and they'll start things out
right here.
JL: They want each other?
DG: Not like that, you idiot.
JL: I didn't say anything.
[Riggins and Ktulu tie up, jostling for position. Riggins goes behind,
but Ktulu quickly reverses into a
waistlock. He tries a suplex, but Riggins blocks it and then grabs
Ktulu's arms and pulls them apart
from around his waist. Riggins uses a leverage move to take Ktulu to
the mat, holding his arm and
twisting it into a submission move. Ktulu quickly nips back to his
feet and reverses into an arm
wringer, working the shoulder of Riggins. Riggins then reverses that
into a hammerlock, ducking behind
Ktulu and pulling on his wrist and arm. Ktulu slams some back elbows
into Riggins' jaw to free himself,
and then takes Riggins down with a fireman's carry into a side
headlock. Riggins fights his way back to
his feet and shoves Ktulu to the ropes. He drops Ktulu with a
shoulderblock.]
DG: Shoulder tackle by Riggins...and here we go...
[Riggins hits the ropes as Ktulu pops up with a spin kick that Riggins
ducks. Ktulu turns...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Oh yeah! Big overhead belly to belly by Riggins!
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Another one!
[Ktulu pops back up and Riggins meets him with a knee to the gut.]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: WHOO! Listen to the chops by Riggins!
[Riggins backs Ktulu into the corner with his chops and then snapmares
him out and chops him across the
back of the neck. He then chops Ktulu in the chest as he's down on the
mat, viciously attacking Ktulu
with his strikes.]
DG: Oh man! Listen to how hard he's hitting him!
JL: Brutal. Just like last week.
[Riggins pulls Ktulu up and goes back to the arm wringer, but Ktulu
knees him in the gut and then...]
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: Oh! A couple of nasty kicks by Ktulu!
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Vertical suplex by Ktulu, and he makes the tag to Mason Walker,
making his debut here in FSW.
JL: Against Rosco Riggins...not a bad way to start.
[Walker picks up Riggins and _drives_ him into the corner, hitting him
with lunging shoulders to the
gut. He then stomps Riggins in the gut a few times, making his
prescence felt. Walker turns and talks
trash to Pak, and then hip tosses Riggins out of the corner. He picks
Riggins up and whips him to the
ropes...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Nice tilt-a-whirl slam by Walker, and he makes the first cover of
the match!
ONE!!!!!
TWO-
DG: Riggins kicks out of it quickly. Back up, and Walker pounds
Riggins with right hands.
"THWAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"SMAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"THWAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"SMAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: Riggins fights back! Palm thrusts and chops!
[Riggins hits the ropes and comes at Walker, who simply picks him up
and tosses him back with ease,
nailing a fallaway slam. Walker gets up and points to Pak again,
talking trash as he lifts Riggins back
up to his feet and pulls him towards his massive arm...]
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: Nice short arm clothesline by Walker, who makes the tag to Ktulu.
They pick up Riggins and send him
to the ropes...
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: DOUBLE TEAM SPINEBUSTER ON RIGGINS!
JL: He got _planted_!
DG: Ktulu has the advantage on Riggins now, and lifts him up...
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Dropping him to the mat with a DDT! He hooks the leg!
ONE!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!
KICKOUT!!!
DG: Riggins kicks out of it.
JL: Quick tag back to Walker...they want to continue the double team.
DG: Double Irish whip...
[Riggins comes back as Ktulu and Walker go for a double back body
drop...he stops short and drives his
elbow down into the neck of Ktulu. Walker rises, and Riggins _DRILLS_
him in the face with the same
elbow!]
[POP!]
DG: Riggins dishes out the elbows!
[Riggins dishes out elbow smashes to Ktulu and to Walker before making
the tag to Pak, who springboards
into the ring...]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[POP!]
DG: Springboard dropkick to Walker connects! Quickly back up...
[POP!]
DG: And a flying headscissors to Walker!
[Pak hits another dropkick, backing the massive Walker to the ropes.
He then tries a hip toss, but
Walker holds the ropes and blocks, and then...]
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[HEEL POP!]
DG: OH _MAN_! WALKER DESTROYS PAK WITH A HUGE CLOTHESLINE!
JL: What's he trying to do hip tossing a man that's more than 100
pounds bigger than he is? Pak's an
idiot!
[Walker quickly pulls Pak back up and whips him into the corner, where
he connects with some lunging
shoulders to the midsection. He then backs up and _charges_...]
JL: SPEAR!
[POP!]
DG: PAK LEAPS OUT OF THE WAY AND WALKER HITS THE POST - SUNSET FLIP
PIN BY PAK!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRRREEEEEE-
[HEEL POP!]
DG: A near fall. Man, Pak is quicker than a hiccup.
JL: I suppose.
DG: Back up...nice spinning heel kick by Pak! He makes the tag to
Riggins.
[Riggins then whips Pak to the ropes and back drops him!]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[POP!]
DG: Riggins back drops Pak onto Walker with a swanton bomb! Riggins
hooks the leg!
ONE!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRREEEEEEE-
DG: No! Ktulu breaks it up!
JL: Why let these guys double team his partner? Good job, Ktulu!
[Ktulu goes after Riggins with some knees to the midsection, but Pak
saves his partner and tosses Ktulu
to the floor. Pak follows with a pescado to a big POP from the crowd!]
DG: Yeah! Pak with a pescado on Ktulu! He's on him, punching him out
there on the floor!
JL: Get them back to their corners, Bach!
[Meanwhile Walker is back up, and he lifts Riggins into the air...]
DG: Elevated double choke hold by Walker! He's choking Riggins out,
hanging him in midair!
[The ref is distracted getting Pak and Ktulu back to their corners, as
Walker continues to choke the
life from Riggins.]
DG: Break the choke, ref!
[The ref finally turns and sees Walker with Riggins in the air,
choking him...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[...and sees as Walker drops Riggins with a sitdown double-handed
chokeslam!]
DG: WHAT A MOVE! WALKER WITH THE COVER!
ONE!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRREEEEEEE-
[POP!]
DG: Riggins gets the shoulder up, just before the three!
JL: I didn't think he had any life in him still, after that. Walker is
a _beast_, man.
[Walker gets up and picks Riggins up, where he pummels him in the back
and the neck with some stiff
forearm shots. He then goes for an Irish whip, but Riggins reverses
into a short arm back elbow,
staggering the big man. He then quickly grabs a waistlock.]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: High angle German, with a bridge!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!
THRRRREEEEEEE-
[Walker kicks out of it. Riggins gets back up, and takes a cheap shot
from Ktulu. He turns and swings at
him, knocking him off the apron. However, this buys Walker enough time
to get up and pummel Riggins with
some forearms. He then hooks his arms and hits a few headbutts, and
then keeps the arms hooked...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Underhook belly-belly suplex! Unbelievable power by Walker!
JL: Tag to Ktulu.
[Ktulu and Walker quickly whip Riggins to the ropes...]
[REVERSAL POP!]
DG: RIGGINS BASEBALL SLIDES THROUGH AND LOCKS IN A SINGLE LEG CRAB ON
BOTH OPPONENTS! WHAT A DAMN
COUNTER!
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[HUGE POP!]
JL: GET HIM OUT! HE'S NOT A LEGAL MAN!
[Jeff is screaming about how Pak entered the ring with both Ktulu and
Walker locked in Riggins' single
leg crab submission holds, and delivers a seated dropkick to each
man's face! The ref breaks up the hold
on both men in the ring, and Walker rolls to the apron, clutching at
his knee. Riggins pulls Ktulu back
up to his feet.]
DG: Oh, knee to the gut by Ktulu, and a kick to the back of the knee.]
[Ktulu dropkicks the right arm of Riggins. He then hooks Riggins in an
arm bar,
but Riggins spins out of it. Ktulu does his own reversal, and...]
"SLAAAAAAAP!"
[SHOCKED POP!]
DG: Ktulu slapped the taste out of Riggins' mouth!
JL: Good. It probably tasted like cock.
DG: ...
JL: Good plan, though...Ktulu just wants to get Riggins riled up.
[And Riggins _does_ get riled up.]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: Whoo! What a chop!
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: What a kick by Ktulu!
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
JL: Here we go again.
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[Ktulu then blocks a chop by Riggins by catching his arm, and
spins...]
____"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!"____
____"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!"___
[POP!]
DG: Riggins got spun around on that kick, right into a huge spinning
chop! Back up! Fireman's carry...
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: DEATH VALLEY DRIVER BY RIGGINS! HE HOOKS THE LEG!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEE-
[HEEL POP!]
DG: Ktulu kicked out again!
JL: Back up.
DG: Riggins off the ropes...lariat-NO!
[Ktulu counters a lariat with a judo arm toss, right into an arm bar.]
DG: Nice counter, and Ktulu continues to work on the right arm of
Rosco Riggins! Look at him lock in
that arm bar!
[Riggins rolls through to try and counter, but Ktulu keeps a hold of
the arm. However, Pak snags a blind
tag, and as Ktulu is still focused on hurting Riggins...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[...Pak slingshots into the ring, hitting a slingshot blockbuster
neckbreaker on Ktulu! However, Riggins
still gets snapped to the mat as Ktulu still held his arm!]
DG: Whoa! That was a train wreck!
[Riggins rolls to the floor, clutching at his arm as Pak yells out
that he's sorry about that. Pak whips
Ktulu to the ropes...]
"THWAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: High dropkick by Pak! The cover!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!
KICKOUT!!!
DG: Ktulu kicks out at two.
JL: Easy as pie.
[Pak quickly lifts Ktulu back up, and backs him to the ropes with a
chop. He then whips him, but Ktulu
quickly reverses it into a nice Russian leg sweep.]
"THUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Ktulu with a corkscrew leg drop!
JL: Beautiful.
[Ktulu gets up and makes the tag to Walker, who enters the ring with a
maniacal look on his face. He
lifts up the much smaller Pak and hits an inverted atomic drop. He
then lifts Pak up and crotches him on
the top ring rope. Pak grabs at his family jewels as Walker backs to
the corner and then charges...]
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: What a running lariat, with Pak crotched on the middle of the top
rope!
[Pak falls to the corner, where Walker keeps up the assault, pummeling
him with stomps. He lifts Pak
back up and into a fireman's carry. Pak floats over, though, and lands
behind Walker. He leaps onto his
shoulders!]
DG: Victory roll!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRREEEEE-
[HEEL POP!]
DG: No! Almost a quick counter into a pin, but Walker just kicked out
of the victory roll.
JL: Too bad, so sad.
[Both men pop back up, and Pak catches Walker with a spinning kick to
the face that sends him back into
the corner. Pak comes at him and starts delivering punches in the
corner as the crowd counts along.]
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
[Ktulu, however, gets a blind tag.]
"SIX!"
"SEVEN!"
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[INNOVATIVE SPOT POP!]
DG: OH MAN! WALKER OUT OF THE CORNER WITH A RUNNING JAPANESE STYLE
POWERBOMB - AND KTULU LEAPED OFF HIS
BACK AND ONTO PAK!
JL: Both feet driven into the face of Pak...what a great move by
Walker and Ktulu.
DG: Pak could be in some _major_ trouble here...he really needs to
make a tag.
JL: Ktulu won't let that happen.
[Ktulu taunts Riggins and then turns back to Pak, lifting him off the
mat and then...]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[...he hits the first two kicks of the Devil's Dance combo, and then
winds up for the third...]
[But Pak leans back and the kick sails over his head! POP!]
DG: Pak ducks it...dropkick to Ktulu's knee!
[Pak tries another kick, but Ktulu catches his leg...]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: SHINING ENZUIGIRI! PAK BLASTS KTULU WITH A KNEE TO THE HEAD!
JL: Dammit!
DG: Pak needs to make a tag...he needs to make the tag right here!
[Pak and Ktulu each head towards their respective corners...]
DG: Here we go...
JL: Time to crank it up!
"SLAAAAAAP!"
"SLAAAAAAP!"
[POP!]
DG: HERE WE GO! RIGGINS AND WALKER!
[Riggins and Walker enter the ring and start trading right hands.
Riggins blocks one and knees Walker in
the gut, and then hooks him up...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Belly to belly to Walker!
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: OH MAN! WHAT A TEARDROP SUPLEX TO KTULU!
[Walker comes at Riggins and swings, but Riggins ducks and goes
behind...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: TIGER SUPLEX TO WALKER!
[Riggins pulls Walker back up, still holding the double Chickenwing,
and then kicks out the back of
Walker's knees, and bridges forward...]
[SUBMISSION POP!]
DG: CROSS ARMED CATTLE MUTILATION! RIGGINS HAS IT LOCKED ON!
[Ktulu springs forward, however, and brings his heel down towards
Riggins...]
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[HUGE HEEL POP!]
DG: OH! WHAT A VICIOUS KICK TO RIGGINS' PRONE HEAD! KTULU CAUGHT HIM!
[POP!]
DG: PAK! PAK FLIES INTO THE RING AND CLOTHESLINES KTULU TO THE FLOOR!
JL: Get him out of the ring, ref!
DG: HERE COMES PAK!
"CRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!"
"F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!"
"F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!"
"F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!"
"F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!"
"F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!"
DG: PAK WITH A _CRAZY_ HANDSPRING CORKSCREW MOONSAULT SUICIDA, INTO
KTULU _AND_ THE GUARD RAIL!
JL: They're both knocked out cold!
[Back in the ring...]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
JL: SPEAR! SPEAR! SPEAR!
DG: WALKER SPEARS RIGGINS OUT OF NOWHERE AND HOOKS THE LEG!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEE-
[HUGE POP!]
DG: RIGGINS KICKS OUT OF IT!
JL: No way! That was three!
[Walker _yells_ at the referee and then picks Riggins right back up
and delivers a vicious headbutt
right to the face. Riggins fights back with a headbutt of his own, and
a few chops across the chest.
Walker fights back by clubbing Riggins with a few forearms across the
body, but Riggins fights back with
two elbow shots to the face of Walker. Walker blocks a third elbow
shot, so Riggins rolls through with
it...]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: ROARING ELBOW! ROARING ELBOW BY RIGGINS! HE HOOKS THE LEG!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEE!?!?!?
[HEEL POP!]
DG: NO! KTULU SAVES WALKER AND BREAKS UP THE PINFALL!
JL: Yes!
[Ktulu hammers Riggins with some shots to the head, and then picks him
up and chops him across the
throat before the referee finally makes him leave the match. This
leaves Riggins and Walker both down in
the ring, both looking to make a tag...]
"SLAAAAAP!"
DG: Here comes Pak!
[POP!]
"SLAAAAAP!"
DG: And Ktulu!
[Pak springboards into the ring, and lands on his feet as Ktulu ducks
his springboard dropkick. Pak
turns...]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: Leaping side kick by Ktulu!
[Ktulu picks Pak right back up and lifts him in position for...]
DG: THE ABYSS! KTULU WANTS THE ABYSS!
[Pak, however, slips out the back, sliding down behind Ktulu! POP!]
DG: No! Pak reverses! He hooks him for the Devil May Care!
[Pak heads towards the ropes...]
[HEEL REVERSAL POP!]
DG: NO! KTULU REVERSES IT INTO THE SHI NO TENSHI! KTULU HAS HIS
SCISSORLOCK DRAGON SLEEPER APPLIED!
JL: THIS IS IT, BABY! IT'S OVER RIGHT HERE!
DG: Pak needs to make the ropes...or a tag...Riggins is close...but he
can't reach him...
JL: _DIE_!
[The ref checks for a submission...Pak reaches for the ropes with his
foot...Riggins reaches, trying to
touch Pak for a tag...]
DG: Ktulu has the Shi no Tenshi locked in...and Pak is in _big_
trouble!
[Riggins reaches out again...]
[...]
JL: PAK! HE'S TAPPING! HE'S TAPPING OUT!
[...]
[POP!]
DG: NO! RIGGINS GOT THE TAG! RIGGINS GOT THE TAG BEFORE PAK TAPPED
OUT! THIS MATCH GOES ON!
JL: WHAT? NO!
[Riggins enters the ring and _explodes_ with a series of elbows to
Ktulu's face, some vicious chops, and
some mean palm thrusts. He then hits the ropes...]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: ROARING ELBOW TO KTULU!
JL: KTULU'S RIGHT BACK UP!
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: AND RIGHT BACK DOWN WITH A HUGE LARIAT!
[Riggins quickly hooks up Ktulu...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: ROLLING BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX!
[Right back up...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: ANOTHER ONE! RIGGINS HOOKS THE LEG!
ONE!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRREEEEEE-
[HEEL POP!]
DG: Ktulu's shoulder shoots off the mat just in time!
JL: Yes!
[Riggins goes to lift Ktulu back up...]
[HEEL HEAT!]
DG: LOW BLOW! KTULU WITH A LOW BLOW!
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
_____"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!"____
DG: DEVIL'S DANCE! KTULU WITH THE DEVIL'S DANCE TO RIGGINS AFTER THE
LOW BLOW!
JL: COVER HIM!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEE!?!?!?
[...]
[HUGE POP!]
DG: YES! RIGGINS JUST KICKED OUT OF IT!
JL: What? No! Dammit! No way! That was three!
[Ktulu lifts Riggins up and picks him up for the Abyss! Heel Pop!]
DG: The Abyss...
[POP! Riggins floats over and reverses...]
DG: NO! RIGGINS REVERSES TO THE CHECKMATE!
JL: NO! KTULU SLIPS OUT...SHI NO TENSHI!
DG: NO! RIGGINS TWISTS AND COUNTERS...NORTHERN LIGHTS-
[Ktulu catches Riggins with a knee to the gut to block, however...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: SWINGING IMPLANT DDT! KTULU COUNTERS AND HITS A _HUGE_ DDT!
[Ktulu shows no emotion. He picks Riggins up and grabs a front
facelock, and sets Riggins up on the top
rope, crotching him there. Ktulu then climbs up top and grabs the
chancery again, looking for a
superplex...]
JL: Superplex...
DG: Riggins is fighting it...he's...
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: FALCON ARROW OFF THE TOP ROPE! OH MY _GOD_!
JL: Whoa.
DG: BOTH MEN ARE DOWN! BOTH MEN ARE OUT! WHAT A DAMN COUNTER BY ROSCO
RIGGINS!
[The crowd comes alive, cheering for both men to get up or make a tag
or do something, cheering for the
Super Falcon Arrow they just saw. Riggins and Ktulu both approach
their corners, and...]
[POP!]
DG: PAK AND WALKER! HERE WE GO!
[Pak slingshots into the ring and takes Walker down with a high cross
body! POP! But that pop slowly
changes as Walker rolls through, carrying Pak in front of him, and
then lifts him onto his shoulders!]
DG: LOOK AT THE STRENGTH OF MASON WALKER!
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Fireman's carry swung into a DDT! Great move by Walker!
[Walker smiles menacingly and then picks Pak back up. He lifts him up
into a crucifix position...]
DG: Fateful Conclusion, coming up! He hit this on Pak last week!
[...]
[POP!]
DG: PAK SLIPS OUT...AND SCHOOL BOYS WALKER!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRREEEEEEE-
[HEEL POP!]
DG: Walker kicks out! Back up!
[Pak kicks Walker in the knee and then springs off the ropes...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[POP!]
DG: SPRINGBOARD ROCKER DROPPER! HE HOOKS THE LEG!
ONE!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEE-
[HEEL POP!]
DG: No! Ktulu saves Walker again!
JL: Riggins!
[Riggins charges into the ring and blasts Ktulu with a forearm shot to
the jaw, and then clotheslines
Ktulu and himself to the floor. Pak runs at Walker, who scoops him
up...]
DG: Tilt-a-whirl...
[POP!]
DG: Pak lands on his feet! Kick to the gut...ROCKER DROPP-
JL: WALKER COUNTERS!
[Walker lifts Pak onto his shoulders, but Pak...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[...flips backwards, hitting a reverse hurricanrana, spiking Walker on
his head!]
[HUGE POP!]
DG: SILVER DEVIL BUSTER! PAK HOOKS THE LEG!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!!
[Ktulu rolls back into the ring, trying to make the save...]
THRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEE!!!
[...]
[DING! DING! DING!]
[HUGE POP!]
RA: Ladies and gentlemen, your winners...
R O S C O R I G G I N S A N D P A K ! ! !
[HUGE POP!]
JL: Ktulu!
[Ktulu scoops up Pak, who has his arm raised in the air...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[MEGA HUGE HEEL HEAT!]
DG: THE ABYSS! KTULU SPIKES PAK WITH HIS LEAPING SITOUT TOMBSTONE!
JL: YES! HE-
DG: RIGGINS!
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: SHUTTLE LOOP BUSTER! RIGGINS WITH A SHUTTLE LOOP BUSTER TO KTULU,
SENDING HIM ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE
RING!
JL: WALKER!
[Walker is back up, and he rams Riggins with some forearm shots.
Riggins shakes them off and dishes some
shots back. Walker winds up, and Riggins ducks a big clothesline...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[POP!]
DG: THUNDERBOMB! RIGGINS WITH A THUNDERBOMB TO WALKER!
[Walker rolls out of the ring, feeling the pain from Riggins'
Thunderbomb. His safety is short lived,
however, as John Shock comes running down the aisle! POP!]
DG: SHOCK! SHOCK IS HERE FOR REVENGE!
[Shock lifts up Walker, and starts beating the crap out of him with
right hands to the face! A few
referees try and pull Shock off, but not before...]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: SHOCK KICK! SHOCK LAYS OUT WALKER WITH THE SHOCK KICK!
[The referees finally pull Shock away, leaving Walker lying outside
the ring, his managers rushing over
to check on him and complain to anyone that will listen. Pak is still
down and out from Ktulu's
piledriver. This leaves Riggins in the ring, arm raised by Jason
Bach...]
JL: Wait...Ktulu just rolled back inside the ring...he's got...
DG: LOOK OUT!
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[HUGE HEEL HEAT!]
DG: KTULU CRACKED RIGGINS ACROSS THE SKULL WITH THAT STAFF!
JL: It's called a _sandabo_, thank you very much.
DG: Riggins is down! Riggins is out!
JL: Riggins has been busted open!
DG: Riggins and Pak may have won this match...but the only man left
standing after all the dust has
settled is Ktulu!
JL: Damn right! Walker is down, Pak is down...and Riggins is most
_definitely_ down.
[Ktulu stands above Riggins, taunting him, raising his sandabo high in
the air as the crowd booes
him...]
DG: There's going to be some hell to pay for Ktulu, I can tell you
that much! Anyways, let's go
backstage.
[We fade to somewhere in the backstage area, more specifically, the
back locker
room area of the Lawerence Joel Colliseum. The image is instantly
recoginzed as
being the back of the owner of Five Star Wrestler, Chris Chronic. The
young blonde man
stands with his back to the camera... and blocking the view of
something.]
CC: Let me first just say what an honor it is to have you here
tonight. I know
you're really going to be an impact player here in FSW.
[Chronic pauses, but gets no response.]
CC: Er-and let me just say that I wish you the best of luck in your
match
tonight with Ricard.
[Chronic pauses again, and still gets no response.]
CC: Er-so I guess I'll see you in the ring later on-
[A voice cuts him off.]
V/O: I know what you're using me for. I know why you signed me, for
some
reason you have gotten the idea from me that I am to be used as your
vengeance...
[A brief pause.]
Let it be known that I am not an instrument of revenge, but for this
once you've
got yourself a hell of a deal. I shall do your dirty work this time
Chronic, but I
guarantee you that the next time you require my services, the price...
well, the
price will be considerably greater.
[The voice stops and just as Chronic leans forward somewhat. We hear
a sound,
that sound is a loud audible...
""KAAAACHINK!"!"
...with that we fade to black.]
[Back to ringside.]
JL: Who the hell is that? It almost sounded like...like...I don't
know.
DG: No idea, Jeff, but it should be interesting to see, in our main
event coming up just a bit later on.
Whoever it is, it doesn't sound like he and Chronic are buddy-buddy.
* /\ * ___________________________________________________
____/ \__ /
\ / FIVE STAR WRESTLING - SATURDAY NIGHT SLAM
> FSW < Television Title match
/___ ___\
* \ / \ "Christ Reborn" Remy Gonzalez (c) vs. John Shock
\/ * \__________________________________________________
WRITER: Ian
DG: Ok fans, the new FSW Television Champio--
JL: [interrupting] --you mean _your_ new FSW Television Champion...
DG: [no-selling Jeff] ... Remy Gonzalez is set to make his first
title defence in our next contest
against Dalhart, Texas' very own John Shock...
JL: Bitchin'.
DG: What?
JL: I sai-- dammit, never mind.
DG: Ok... let's go up to Ryan Allen with the introductions.
[Cut to the ring, where fresh-faced Allen stands with mic in hand.]
RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one
fall...
... AND IT IS FOR THE FSW TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP!
[POP!]
RA: Introducing first, the challenger... from Dalhart, Texas,
weighing in tonight at an even 200
pounds... he is...
J O H N S H O C K ! ! !
[POP!]
"Gunter glieben glauten globen"
[The words signal the start of Def Leppard's "Rock Of Ages" kicking
over the PA system. The first part
of the song continues to pick up...]
#Alright#
#I got something to say#
#It's better to burn out than fade away#
_______FWOOOOOM!________
[An explosion of pyro goes off at the entranceway.]
#All right#
#Gonna start a fire#
[And the former bullfighter, John Shock, is there, standing in the
entranceway, hands on his hips, a
big, white cowboy hat on his head, and also wearing a black vest with
"John Shock" printed on the back
in white lettering, a pair of black wrestling trunks with "Shock" on
the back in white lettering and
white wrestling boots. He has short, dirty-blonde hair, blue eyes and
a thick mustache.
Shock tips his hat up slightly, a slight smile on his face, and then
he makes his way down the aisle and
to the ring, reaching out to give a high-five to a fan here and there.
As he reaches the ring, he takes
a big leap, getting up on the ring apron, where he grabs the top rope,
vaults over it into the ring,
then removes his hat and tips it to the crowd. He turns over his hat
to a ringside attendant, then
removes his vest and does the same.]
DG: Shock, tough as nails, the former bullfighter... finds himself in
this title match after the
scheduled number-one contender, the Jersey Devil Pak, opted to face
Mason Walker tonight rather than
take on Gonzalez for the gold..
JL: Well, the whole bullfighter thing is pretty frickin' cool Damon,
I'll give you that... but John
Shock doesn't stand a chance against Remy tonight.
DG: Gonzalez, the champion has to be the favourite, for sure... but
something tells me John Shock might
prefer it that way. Don't rule out an upset, here..
[Back to Ryan Allen in the ring, Shock pacing up and down in the
background.]
RA: His opponent! From San Antonio, Texas... weighing in at 230
pounds...
... he is the FSW TELEVISION CHAMPION!
... "CHRIST REBORN"! REMY! GONZAAAAAAALEZ!
[BLACK]
V/O: On the eighth day, daddy created ME.
[Cue: "Psychotropic Nightmare" by The Eighties Matchbox B-Line
Disaster]
[Lights up.... as the music just kicks the f**k in, ripping across the
PA.]
# I DRINK ALL NIGHT
AND I SLEEP ALL DAY
I DRINK ALL NIGHT
AND I SLEEP ALL DAY
YOU'RE FEELING YOUR WAY THROUGH THE DARK
BUT YOU CAN'T GET UP
YOU'RE FEELING YOUR WAY THROUGH THE DARK
BUT YOU CAN'T GET UP#
[Cue spotlight... and wearing his long leather coat over his wrestling
attire... there stands "CHRIST REBORN" REMY GONZALEZ... rubbing his
head and
smiling at the bitter, annoyed crowd with a fantastic look of "F**k
you all"
spreading across his face.]
#I GOT MY INSIDE UP
BEFORE MY FACE WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES
BELIEVE WHEN I SAY THAT
I'M GONNA HAVE TO TELL
AND MY HEARTS IN MY MOUTH
AND MY MIND'S IN THE GUTTER
BELIEVE WHEN I KNOW THAT
I'M DREAMING
I CAN'T WAKE UP!
I GOT MY INSIDE UP
BEFORE MY FACE WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES
BELIEVE WHEN I SAY THAT
I'M GONNA HAVE TO TELL
AND MY HEARTS IN MY MOUTH
AND MY MIND'S IN THE GUTTER
BELIEVE WHEN I KNOW THAT
I'M DREAMING
I CAN'T WAKE UP! #
[Remy cracks his knuckles and starts his walk to the ring, staring out
any
fan who chooses to lean over the rail and test him.]
#I WON'T KISS
I WON'T TELL
YOU'RE FEELING YOUR WAY THROUGH THE DARK
AND YOU CAN'T GET UP
YOU'RE FEELING YOUR WAY THROUGH THE DARK
AND YOU CAN'T GET UP#
[A fan reaches out to try to touch the Television Champion, but he
just spits in their hand. Even that
slightest of distractions is enough of a cue for John Shock, who
charges across the ring, baseball
slides under the bottom rope to the floor and fixes his arms around
the champion's waist, taking two or
three big shots to the back of the head as he drives Gonzalez
backwards...]
"___CRAAASH!____"
[... spine-first into the security railing! POP!]
DG: OH MY!
JL: Well, that's one way of getting things started.
DG: Shock with a big tackle, into the guardrail... Gonzalez looks
stunned...
[Shock keeps his hands locked tight in the small of Gonzalez' back,
spinning away from the rail and
shoving him towards the ring. The champ drops to a knee, hugging his
ribs, as Shock lines him up from
the bottom of the aisle...]
DG: Well we all know John Shock is fearless, there's no doubt about
that -- and he's showing Remy
Gonzalez that he's not afraid to fight him, here...
[Gonzalez manages to shrug off his coat, revealing his "CHRIST" ring
attire and his series of biblical
tattoos. But as soon as he's on his feet, John Shock deadleaps up on
to the railing, extends his legs
to push himself through the air, twisting back.. and flooring Remy
with a springboard dropkick! POP!]
DG: OOHHH! SHOCK WITH THE DROPKICK -- GREAT MOVE!
JL: Well keep calm there, Damon, don't mess yourself. It's just a
dropkick.
[Whatever it is, Gonzalez is on his hands and his knees with a greasy
crimson smear at the corner of his
lip. Shock gets up off his stomach and pulls himself up on to the
ring apron, waiting for the champion
to get up again...]
DG: Gonzalez must think he's surrounded, Shock's so all over him
right now...
JL: Very good Damon, very clever. Remy's gonna make you eat your
words.
[Slowly, Gonzalez gets up with his back to the challenger. Shock
doesn't wait for the two to face each
other, though, striding along the apron and leaping at Remy, looking
to catch him on the turn with a
somersault senton press...]
"THWAAAAP!"
DG: MAN OH MAN!
[... but Gonzalez throws himself out of the way! BIG CONCERN POP!]
JL: Wow -- now that was something, huh?
DG: John Shock just bounced off those mats at ringside -- sickening!
JL: I thought it was pretty cool. Like human superball.
[Shock rolls up to a seated position, roaring with pain and holding
his back. Infuriated, Gonzalez
grabs a handful of his dirty blond hair and yanks him up to his feet,
hooking him as if for a belly-to-
back suplex, lifting him up...]
"THUD!"
"OOOOOOOOOOOHHHH!"
[... and driving him, crotch-first, into the ringpost! MALE SYMPATHY
POP!]
DG: Oh... my God, that was just brutal. A vicious manoeuvre by
Gonzalez...
JL: Best. Move. Ever.
[Dumping Shock to the floor again, Remy snarls at some of the fans in
the front row but doesn't allow
himself to waste any more time than that. With Shock curled up
nursing his groin, Gonzalez snatches him
back up again, locking his arms around in a gutwrench and flinging him
across ringside...]
"THUUUD!"
DG: AND A BIG GUTWRENCH SUPLEX BY THE CHAMPION!
JL: Boy oh boy... I'm _real_ glad that I'm not John Shock right about
now.
DG: Well Shock's tough, we know that... he can take a helluva
beating...
JL: Blah, blah... irrelevant -- Remy equals God. Literally. Uh,
sort of.
[Remy brings Shock up to his feet again, grabbing him around the ears
and, in an impressive feat of
strength, bieling him into the ring through the bottom ropes. He
slides in after him and referee Hector
Ortega calls for the bell.]
DG: Remy throwing Shock back in...
[DING! DING! DING!]
DG: ... there's the bell, and I guess the match is officially
underway now...
JL: [sarcasm] Yeeahh... well observed there, Sherlock.
[Having been hurled back into the ring, Shock rolls across the mat
almost as far as the opposite side,
Gonzalez getting slowly to his feet and stalking the challenger very
deliberately. He gets caught,
though, looking to grab Shock by the hair -- the former bullfighter
darts around, into a rear
waistlock...]
DG: Waitaminute! Shock looking for the White Lightning rollup--!
[But Gonzalez is simply too powerful, locking the top rope with one
arm to prevent the rollup, and
swinging back with the other so his elbow connects solidly with
Shock's temple, stunning him. Remy
whirls around, slowly twisting Shock over into an inverted facelock,
before hoisting him up...]
"THUUD!"
[... and dropping him across the knee in a backbreaker! HEEL POP!]
JL: Wow. Just... wow.
DG: Inverted facelock hoist into a backbreaker by Remy, perfect
execution...
JL: That's how he's gonna keep Shock grounded, right there.
DG: Uh-huh, agreed. Gonzalez came back at Shock with a rapid,
hard-hitting flurry on the outside...
but he's slowed the match to a very deliberate pace, now, and it
certainly looks as though he's gonna
work over that back area...
[Gonzalez stands over Shock for a few moments, casting eerie glances
out at the crowd. The former
bullfighter doesn't stay down long, though, starting to claw his way
up Remy's leg.. but all of a sudden
the Television Champion snaps into action, jamming Shock into a
headscissor, hooking both arms up
tight...]
"THUUD!"
DG: DOUBLE UNDERHOOK BACKBREAKER!
JL: Flawless. Remy looks unbeatable tonight.
[But again, Shock refuses to stay down. His face is a map of pain as
he manages to roll to his knees.
But like it was absolutely nothing to him at all, Gonzalez picks him
up across his shoulders in the
fireman's carry...]
"THUUD!"
[BIG CONCERN POP!]
DG: OH! FIREMAN'S CARRY, INTO _ANOTHER_ BACKBREAKER! THAT'S THREE!
JL: Remy brought that knee right up into the Shock's side and back...
man.
DG: A trifecta of backbreakers... Shock's in some trouble, here--
cover!
ONE!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!
KICKOUT!!!
[POP!]
DG: Shock escapes, but that had to take a lot to kick out there...
JL: Oh yeah. His whole back's got to be hurting like hell right now.
[Without even a word, Gonzalez gets back to his feet, bringing Shock
up with him. He shoves the Dalhart
native back into the corner, taking him by the wrist and sending him
for the ride, across the ring at a
hell of a pace...]
"THUUNK!"
DG: Oh man! Remy with a _huge_ irish whip!
"THUUNK!"
DG: And another, to the opposite corner again! Unbelievable
velocity!
JL: I'm surprised Shock can even _stand_ right now...
[His spine arched, the former bullfighter staggers from the corner.
The TV Champion catches him coming
out, driving a knee into the midsection, pulling one arm between
Shock's own legs, and lifting him right
up, over his head...]
"THUUD!"
DG: PUMP-HANDLE SUPLEX!
JL: Elevation, distance... I can hardly believe how perfectly he did
that.
[But as Gonzalez slowly gets back up, the crowd comes alive as John
Shock sits up and, gritting his
teeth through the pain, pushes himself to his feet. Remy looks
slightly fazed, but just grabs him
again, hooks him around the waist...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: SIDE SALTO SUPLEX!
JL: I don't believe it.
DG: Look at Shock! John Shock is getting to his feet again!
[Another huge pop, as Shock rolls right out of the impact, to his
knees, and up to a standing position
yet again. He looks more than a little wobbly on his feet, and can't
do anything as a furious Gonzalez
hooks in a facelock...]
DG: Gonzalez with the lift--!
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[BIG PROTEST POP!]
DG: OOOHHH! SHEER DROP BRAINBUSTER!
JL: You wanna talk about putting on a clinic-- what the?!
DG: SHOCK'S UP! SHOCK'S UP! I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS!
[Shock can barely even see after being hit with such a devastating
move, but reaches out, gropes for the
middle rope and pulls himself back to a vertical base regardless.
Gonzalez clenches his fists tight in
anger and disbelief, spinning Shock around by his shoulder, firing a
kick right into his gut...]
JL: SACRIFICE! SACRIFICE!
[BIG FINISHER TEASE POP!]
DG: NO! NO! SHOCK REVERSES -- INSIDE CRADLE!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEE-
[BIG DISAPPOINTMENT POP!]
JL: How in the hell?
[Both men spring back to their feet, but Shock is the quickest to
react. He blocks out the pain and
rushes the ropes, wrapping his legs around the head of the champion as
he turns and going into a
satellite headscissor. Shock rotates once.. twice.. and a third time,
before flipping into the
takeover..]
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"
[HUGE POP!]
DG: HEADSCISSOR TAKEDOWN BY SHOCK! REMY THROUGH THE ROPES TO THE
FLOOR!
JL: Whoa!
[Gonzalez lands on his feet, just in time to see his opponent
barreling across the ring setting to
launch himself over the top rope. Remy still has the presence of mind
to throw himself to one side,
though, and the crowd holds its breath as they wait for Shock to
splatter himself across the ringside
mats...]
DG: SHOOOCK--!
[... but he doesn't. Shock reacts in time, rolling up over the ropes
and hooking the top strand under
both arms, landing on his feet on the apron and even managing a grin.
Remy doesn't see him this time as
he turns, jumps up..]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
["OOOOOOOOHHHH!"]
JL: HOLY--!
DG: OOOOHHH! ASAI MOONSAULT! ABSOLUTELY UNBELIEVABLE MOVE!
"F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!"
"F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!"
"F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!"
"F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!" "F-S-DUB!"
DG: UN-BE-LIEVABLE MOVE!
[Shock and Gonzalez lie side by side at ringside, the fans continuing
to blow the roof off the arena.
Shock is the first to stir, rolling on to one side and pressing a hand
to his lower back, before getting
slowly to his feet...]
JL: I've said it before, I'll say it again: wow. Just... _wow_.
DG: What a contest between these two Texans, Shock and Gonzalez --
both men showing us just how much
they want to be Television champion here tonight...
[Dragging Gonzalez up to his feet, Shock rolls him back in under the
bottom rope. Pulling himself to
the apron, the man from Dalhart looks to be in incredible pain with
his back. Shutting it out once
again, he deadleaps to the top rope in the corner, dropping horizontal
against the adjacent rope...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[ENORMOUS POP FOR THE ATHLETICISM!]
JL: WHOA!
DG: OH MY G-- ARABIAN MOONSAULT! EXPERTLY DONE! SHOCK HOOKS THE
LEG!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEE-KICKOUT!!!
[HUGE DISAPPOINTMENT POP!]
DG: Oh -- we were so close to having a new Television champion, right
there!
JL: How the hell does he do that? I thought Remy busted his back up
good?
DG: Shock is a fighter, totally fearless... it looks like he's
battling through whatever pain he's in
after absorbing a beating from Gonzalez...
[Shock shifts back on to his knees, hand pressed to his spine again.
Remy rolls away, before dragging
himself up to his feet and catching Shock in the corner, shoving him
back into the corner. He
absolutely lets rip at this point, pummeling Shock with lefts and
rights and forearms. BIG HEEL POP!]
JL: Whoa! That's more like it!
DG: Oh man, Gonzalez just ripping and tearing at Shock in the corner!
JL: Left, right, left -- wow! Like Batman -- bam! Pow! Zap! Newt!
DG: Uhh...
[Remy takes a step back, spins...]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: ROARING ELBOW!
JL: Blammo!
DG: Gonzalez has lost it! -- man, this kind of brawling isn't what
I'd expect to see from a mat
technician the calibre of the Television champion, you know?
JL: Hey, Remy's not afraid to mix it up if he has to.
DG: Looks to me like Remy can't handle the fact that Shock was in
control of this match... FSW's head
referee Hector Ortega having to intervene, now...
[Ortega, realising a disqualification might favour the champion in
this case, doesn't even try to issue
a count before he physically removes Gonzalez from the corner as he
lays into the slumped figure of
Shock with stiff boots to the body. Remy shoves Ortega away,
snarling, and squares up to him
menacingly...]
DG: And Gonzalez, now, not taking too kindly to that intervention...
JL: Yeah! A referee shouldn't be putting his hands on a competitor
anyway.
DG: Well in this case, I think Ortega probably had just cau-- WAIT!
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[BIG POP!]
DG: SHOCK WITH THE BULLDOG LARIAT! GONZALEZ NEVER SAW IT COMING!
JL: Dammit! This is supposed to be our head referee! It's a
travesty!
[The former bullfighter pulls himself up in the corner, before
mounting the middle rope. Gonzalez
staggers to his feet, holding the back of his head and as soon as he
and Shock are facing one another,
the challenger leaps...]
DG: SOMERSAULT NECKBREAK--
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[DISAPPOINTMENT POP!]
DG: OOOHH -- NOBODY HOME! GONZALEZ SIDESTEPPED!
JL: Oh boy...
[Seething again, Gonzalez wastes no time. Shock is already getting up
but Remy just pulls him a little
closer to the corner and sticks him hard into a vertical headscissor.
He hoists him up, over the
shoulder, over the back...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[HUGE SHOCK (n.John) POP!]
DG: OH MY GOD!
JL: JEESUS!
DG: GONZALEZ WITH THE CRUCIFIX POWERBOMB -- RIGHT INTO THE TOP
TURNBUCKLE!
JL: Incredible!
DG: Unbelievable impact, Shock absorbed all of it into that injured
back...
[Ortega moves in again, but doesn't even get close before the champion
shoves him out of the way. Shock
sits slumped against the bottom turnbuckle, clasping the middle rope,
looking pretty much out of it.
Remy grabs him by both ankles and pulls him hard out of the corner,
sitting down in the slam...]
DG: AND A SIT-OUT POWERBOMB, FROM THE CORNER! THIS HAS GOT TO BE
OVER!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRREEEEEEE???
[ENORMOUS POP!]
JL: WHAAA?
DG: NO! NO! SHOCK GOT THE SHOULDER UP! SHOCK IS STILL IN THIS ONE!
[Gonzalez points the finger at Ortega as he gets back to his feet,
convinced it was a slow count. He
underestimates Shock's resiliency yet again, though, the Texan
staggering up to his feet -- Gonzalez
sees him and moves in, but Shock shoves him hard in the chest.. swings
with a right hand.. Remy ducks..]
DG: GONZALEZ -- WAISTLOCK!
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[HEEL POP!]
DG: GERMAN SUPLEX!
JL: He's holding on! Another one, coming up!
[Dragging Shock back up, Remy releases the waistlock, underhooks the
arms...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: TIGER SUPLEX! ABSOLUTELY BRUTAL IMPACT!
JL: And each suplex jamming that spine all sorts of ways it shouldn't
go...
DG: Oh my... Gonzalez is holding on again, he's going for a third...
[From the double chickenwing, to a full nelson. The Television
champion lifts him up and holds him in
the air, legs kicking, before slowly arching back...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[HUGE CONCERN POP!]
DG: AND OOOHH MAN! DELAYED DRAGON SUPLEX -- BRIDGED! HERE'S THE
COUNT!
JL: How do you say? Stick a fork in this one, because it is _done_.
ONE!!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEE!?!?
[UNBELIEVABLE POP!]
JL: Three! Oh yeah, what a great victo--
DG: NO! NO! ORTEGA SAYS TWO! HECTOR ORTEGA SAYS SHOCK GOT A
SHOULDER UP!
JL: Oh... I don't believe it! This sucks ass!
[Gonzalez doesn't believe it either. He snaps up to his feet and goes
nose-to-nose with FSW's senior
official... but Ortega doesn't back down from him.]
DG: Shock showing the whole world just how tough a competitor he is
tonight..
JL: Well he's either totally stupid, or he really wants that title.
DG: Oh he wants to be the Television champion, have no doubt about
that...
JL: He does sound like a dumbass, though. It's the accent, probably.
[Whatever it is, he's already rolled on to his stomach and is in the
process of getting back to his
feet. Gonzalez has Ortega in the corner, spitting venom, jabbing his
finger into the striped referee's
shirt. He's got his back to Shock, though, which isn't good when the
challenger finally gets back up..]
DG: And Shock's up! Shock's on his feet! Gonzalez doesn't see him!
[Ending his tirade, Remy turns. Shock's practically on top of him
already.]
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[ENORMOUS POP!]
DG: OOOOOOOHHH MAN!
JL: Ack!
DG: SHOCK KICK! SHOCK KICK!
JL: Somebody fire that referee! Seriously!
DG: GOOD GOD -- JOHN SHOCK JUST ERASED THE CHAMP'S FACE WITH THAT
MAFIA KICK!
[Ortega manages to dive out of the way as Gonzalez slips back into the
corner like he's taken a bullet,
crumbling first to his knees and then to the mat, lying on his face.
Shock drags him into the center of
the ring and heads for the ropes, taking one, painful, labored step on
to the apron, then another...]
DG: SHOCK WAVE! THE SPRINGBOARD SSP! IF SHOCK HITS THIS--
JL: He can't, he can't. He _won't_!
DG: -- IF SHOCK HITS THIS, WE'VE GOT A BRAND NEW TELEVISION CHAMPION!
[In agony with his back, Shock grabs the rope, musters all his
remaining strength, and leaps, pausing at
the top for what seems like an age...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[ENORMOUS PROTEST POP!]
JL: WOW!
DG: OH, COME ON! REMY KICKED THE REFEREE INTO THE ROPES! SHOCK
SLIPPED!
[Somehow, Shock manages to land on his feet. Remy pops up behind
him...]
["OOOOOOHHHH!"]
DG: AND A LOW BLOW! LOW BLOW BY GONZALEZ!
JL: Absolute genius -- the referee missed it completely!
[Shock hunches over as Gonzalez gets to his feet, hooks him up...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[HUGE, HUGE HEEL POP!]
DG: SACRIFICE! SACRIFICE! THE DOUBLE ARM BRAINBUSTER CONNECTS!
JL: HE HIT ALL OF IT! THIS ONE IS OVER!
ONE!!!!!!!!!!!
TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!
THRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEE!!!
[DING! DING! DING!]
# I DRINK ALL NIGHT
AND I SLEEP ALL DAY
I DRINK ALL NIGHT
AND I SLEEP ALL DAY
YOU'RE FEELING YOUR WAY THROUGH THE DARK
BUT YOU CAN'T GET UP
YOU'RE FEELING YOUR WAY THROUGH THE DARK
BUT YOU CAN'T GET UP #
JL: THREEEEEEEEE!
RA: HERE IS YOUR WINNER, AND _STILL_ FSW TELEVISION CHAMPION...
... "CHRIST REBORN"! REMMMYYYY! GONZALEZ!
JL: Oh yeah! That's title defence number one!
[In the ring, Ortega raises Gonzalez' hand, but soon backs off when he
has the TV title belt snatched
out of his hands. Remy lays it down next to the prostrate body of
John Shock, and clasps his hands in a
silent prayer...]
DG: You've got to give the devil his due, though, Jeff -- if you'll
excuse the pun -- these two
superstars put on one hell of a match for us tonight...
JL: Remy rules, it's true!
DG: But you can't praise John Shock highly enough -- he showed us
just how resilient and determined he
can be in this match, and on any other given night he could've hit the
Shock Wave and walked out the
Television champion...
JL: Well, yeah. But, y'know... he didn't. Remy's the champ, baby!
[One hand clasped around the back of his head, the other pressed into
his back, Shock rolls on to his
stomach in the ring. Gonzalez, meanwhile, climbs out through the
ropes with the belt in his grasp, and
the camera holds on him as he backs away up the aisle, lifting his
glittering prize in the air. Cut.]
[Ad time.]
V/O: Don't miss the next FSW Saturday Night Slam! Already announced
for our next show - A four corners
Television title match, featuring Corey Hart, Kirk Maclean, and Pak as
the challengers, not to mention
Heaven's Hunted versus Youth Gone Wrong and so much more! Check it out
next Saturday!
[Back to the show.]
* /\ * ___________________________________________________
____/ \__ /
\ / FIVE STAR WRESTLING - SATURDAY NIGHT SLAM
> FSW < Main Event - stipulations to be named
/___ ___\
* \ / \ Ricard vs. ???
\/ * \__________________________________________________
WRITER: Pete
DG: Folks, it's time for our main event. Who does Chronic have ready
to take on Ricard? What kind of
match will it be? Let's find out.
[We cut to the ring, where Ryan Allen stands, mic in hand.]
RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is tonight's main
event!
[POP!]
RA: Introducing first...
[Cue: "I Against I" by Massive Attack and Mos Def. HUGE POP!]
# I, ah-- I, ah-- I against I
# flesh of my flesh and mind of my mind
# two of a kind but one won't survive
# my image is reflect' in the enemy's eyes
# and his image is reflect' in mine the same time
[Ricard tosses the curtain aside and powers out into the arena, a man
carved out of stone. Pausing at
the top of the aisle, he tenses his pectorals and cracks his huge neck
before advancing on the ring, one
huge stride at a time.]
RA: FROM WASHINGTON, D.C. AND WEIGHING IN AT 299 POUNDS...
R I C A R D ! ! !
[BIG POP!]
# I, ah-- I, ah-- I against I
# flesh of my flesh and mind of my mind
# two of a kind but one won't survive
# my image is reflect' in the enemy's eyes
# and his image is reflect' in mine
# survive, survive, survive, survive
[Effortlessly stepping over the top rope, Ricard prowls across the
squared circle to the far corner, his
massive, slabbed back to the action. In black wrestling trunks with a
silver tribal design on the seat,
the steely-eyed Washington native stretches his shoulders, breathing
deeply. The music fades.]
DG: Ricard is ready to go, but who will he face? Let's find out!
[Chris Chronic makes his way though the curtain, mic in hand, a smirk
on his face. Ricard watches from
the ring, waiting.]
CC: Ryan, nice job on the ring announcing, but if I may, I'll
introduce the following contestant.
[Allen nods.]
CC: Now then -- Ricard's opponent!
[POP!]
[Darkness. The flashbulbs in the arena all sort of go off in an
erratic
sequence of brilliance. The crowd pops for the lights going off.]
[Then, a familiar tune hits the PA system...]
# Hands on the Bible, scared like a child #
# God holds you libel, for what you've done #
# Homicidal, stare down your idols #
# A pretty baby, never born #
[No signs of life from the entrance way, nothing. The crowd stands on
its feet
hoping to catch an early glimpse of something.]
# You can't believe it, you didn't mean it #
# But they saw you do it, and they know your name #
# Rats in the alley #
DG: Don't tell me...
JL: Not him...you have to big kidding me...
[Chronic makes it official.]
CC: Weighing in at 180 pounds, I give you...
T H E S C R A Y P E R ! ! !
[HUGE SHOCKED POP!]
DG: The Scrayper! It's the Scrayper! The staplin' sicko is in FSW!
[And as Local H's "Hands on the Bible" kicks into high gear the simple
white
spotlight hits the entrance way and already bathed in the bright light
is the figure known
to the world as simply the Scrayper. The light covers him, showing the
horror of the
dead skin masked one.]
# Hands on the Bible #
# Egomaniacal, as you screw yourself into oblivion #
[Regular ring gear for the Scrayper, a pair of dark red satin pants,
and a black
sleeveless t-shirt with nothing written on it. His arms wrapped in
black tape
and sure enough, in one of his hands the light reflects off of his
trademark weapon, the
staple gun. Showing little regard towards the fans at the arena the
Scrayper makes his
way to the ring slowly, taking his time for the true effect of his
appearance to sink
in, it all has a purpose.]
DG: Scrayper! I can't believe it! This man is about as hardcore as
they come.
JL: Can you even call it a "man"?
DG: I can see why Chronic was excited...Scrayper may be a lot smaller
than Ricard, but he can _really_
dish out the pain.
JL: Sure! And it's not like Chronic cares if Scrayper wins or
loses...he just wants Scrayper to _hurt_
Ricard.
[Scrayper enters the ring and he and Ricard are about to fight, but
Chronic cuts them off.]
CC: Oh, and one last thing...this match? It will be a _LAST MAN
STANDING_ match!
[HUGE POP!]
CC: Enjoy!
[DING! DING!]
DG: HERE WE GO!
JL: What? A Last Man Standing match?
DG: Scrayper is a former GIW tag team champion...and is a true king of
the deathmatch...this Last Man
Standing match may play right into his hands.
JL: Well, duh, that's why Chronic booked it.
[Ricard backs away from Scrayper, who holds his trademark staple gun.
Scrayper moves in to attack, but
Ricard lashes out with a kick to the wrist, sending the staple gun
flying into the air and to the
outside!]
DG: Ricard kicks the staple gun out of Scrayper's hands!
JL: Smart move.
[Ricard ties up with Scrayper as the referee retrieves the staple gun
and walks over to the announce
table, trying to hide it from the Scrayper.]
JL: Hey, I don't want this thing!
[Ricard backs the much smaller Scrayper to the corner and delivers
some big elbows to the jaw and stomps
to the gut. Ricard hip tosses Scrayper halfway across the ring.
Scrayper gets up...]
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[...only to be leveled with a huge running lariat! Pop!]
DG: Ricard is off to a good start in this one.
JL: So this is a Last Man Standing match...so I guess you have to be
the...last...man...standing...huh?
DG: That's right - absolutely brilliant deduction on your part, Jeff.
JL: Shaddup.
[Ricard pulls Scrayper up and backs him to the ropes. He backs off and
then Cactus clotheslines Scrayper
to the floor, his momentum carrying both men over. Ricard keeps the
beating up, delivering some nasty
forearm shots to the back of Scrayper. He then takes him by the back
and whips him shoulder first into a
guard rail up the ramp. Scrayper staggers back, and Ricard meets him
with...]
"THWAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: Oh! What a _nasty_ kneelift! Scrayper flew high into the air!
[Ricard delivers some more vicious forearm shots to the back of
Scrayper, and then lifts the much
smaller man into the air...]
"CLAAAAAAAANK!"
DG: Face first, he drops him onto the guard rail!
[Ricard pulls Scrayper up and takes him towards the ring post...]
"CLAAAAAAAAAANK!"
DG: OH! A biel into the ring post!
JL: Scrayper hit the post back first! Ouch!
[Ricard pulls Scrayper up and starts ramming him head first into the
ring apron. Scrayper delivers some
shots into the gut of Ricard to try and fight back, but Ricard fights
back with even _stiffer_ elbows.
He goes for an Irish whip...]
"CRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAASH!"
DG: Scrayper reverses, sending Ricard into the steps!
[Scrayper then readies himself as Ricard quickly gets back to his
feet, holding his shoulder. Scrayper
hops onto the apron and runs down the apron towards Ricard...]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[INNOVATIVE MOVE POP!]
DG: SCRAYPER RAN DOWN THE APRON, AND _DESTROYS_ RICARD WITH A FLYING
KNEE TO THE FACE!
JL: That was the most innovative Shining Wizard I've ever seen...and
it comes early in the match! Ricard
may be knocked out _cold_ after that one!
[Ricard is down on the outside, as Scrayper hops back to the apron and
leaps off, dropping a leg across
the throat of his opponent!]
DG: Another great move by Scrayper!
JL: He's definitely a crazy son of a bitch, that's for sure. Scrayper
can't really...well...wrestle. But
he _will_ make FSW an interesting place with his crazy, hardcore
style.
[Scrayper slides back into the ring and prepares himself as the ref
counts Ricard down.]
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
[POP! Ricard stands once again.]
DG: Ricard is back up--
JL: SCRAYPER!
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!"
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
DG: SPRINGBOARD CORKSCREW MOONSAULT SUICIDA! WHAT A DAMN HIGH RISK
MOVE BY SCRAYPER!
JL: Did you see Ricard? The back of his head hit the guard rail! That
could be a huge factor in this
one!
DG: He may be out! It could be over already!
JL: Scrayper has to get up too, though.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
DG" Scrayper is back up!
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
"SEVEN!"
[POP!]
DG: And now Ricard is back up as well! What resilience by the big man!
[Scrayper immediately drives his knee into Ricard, and then hauls him
up and goes for an Irish whip.
Ricard reverses, sending Scrayper back first into the ring apron.
Ricard hauls up Scrayper and picks him
up into a bear hug.]
"CLAAAAAAANK!"
DG: Ricard rams him back first into the steel!
[Ricard rolls Scrayper back into the ring and then follows. He picks
up the Scrayper and locks in a
double underhook.]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[POP!]
DG: Terrific double underhook suplex by Ricard! He dropped Scrayper on
his neck and back, areas it looks
like the big man wants to focus on during this match.
[Ricard quickly picks Scrayper up and whips him to the ropes...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: A big flapjack by Ricard - floated right into an STF!
JL: Why? There's no submission in this match!
DG: It's going to take a lot to wear down Scrayper, and Ricard knows
that...and since it's no DQ, he can
hold this STF as long as he wants!
JL: Ahhh. Good point.
[Ricard holds the STF, wrenching back on Scrayper's neck with all his
strength, Scrayper showing no
signs of pain other then his struggle to free himself from the hold.]
DG: Ricard has a great chance to emerge has a big star in FSW, there's
no doubt about that. He's a big
man who can _really_ wrestle...you don't see that much these days.
JL: True. Most big guys only can powerbomb and chokeslam and do the
dreaded BIG BOOT~!
DG: Ricard is a true wrestler, however...but he may need to _fight_ to
win this one against the
Scrayper.
[Ricard continues to wrench at Scrayper with the STF.]
JL: Chronic is just using Scrayper as a weapon...to hurt Ricard.
DG: Exactly...you know Chronic doesn't give a damn about the Scrayper,
he just wants him to cause Ricard
a lot of pain...and I have a feeling Scrayper will do just that.
[Ricard continues to wrench away at Scrayper with the STF, but now
finally releases, since there are no
submissions in the match.]
DG: Ricard lets go...remember, there are no pinfalls, submissions,
count outs, or disqualifications in
this matchup.
[Ricard pulls Scrayper to his feet and lifts him up into a torture
rack!]
DG: Argentine backbreaker applied by Ricard! He continues to work on
the lower back and the neck of the
Scrayper!
JL: Why doesn't he just hit him in the legs a bunch of times with a
chair so he can't stand up?
[Ricard continues to rack the Scrayper, dropping to his knees, nailing
a huge innovative backbreaker on
the Scrayper.]
DG: Oh man! What a move!
JL: It won't keep Scrayper down for a ten count, though.
[Ricard pulls Scrayper right back up, however, and pulls him into a
standing headscissors in, Ricard's
back against the turnbuckle.]
DG: A running powerbomb, perhaps?
[Ricard lifts Scrayper into the air, onto his shoulders, and runs
across the ring...]
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[SICK SPOT POP!]
DG: OH! A RUNNING TURNBUCKLE POWERBOMB! SCRAYPER'S HEAD HIT THE
TURNBUCKLE!
JL: That was a _sick_ move. Whoa.
DG: It sure was...and we'll see if it keeps Scrayper down! Head
referee Hector Ortega makes the count.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
[Scrapyer starts to stir...]
"SEVEN!"
"EIGHT!"
[POP!]
DG: Scrayper uses the ropes to pull himself up!
JL: Ricard should have dragged him to the middle of the
ring...Scrayper had the ropes to help himself up
right there.
[Ricard quickly runs and kicks Scrayper in the gut and pulls him into
another standing headscissors. He
lifts him into the air for another powerbomb...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: RICARD SPIKES SCRAYPER TO THE MAT WITH A VICIOUS SNAP POWERBOMB!
JL: Count him down!
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
"SEVEN!"
"EIGHT!"
[POP!]
DG: Scrayper is back up again, this time without using the ropes for
help! He's up on his own power!
[Ricard quickly grabs Scrayper and tries for a short arm clothesline,
but Scrayper ducks it...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Scrayper counters with an arm-trap neckbreaker!
JL: Did I see that? Scrayper _countered_ something?!?!?
DG: Amazing, I know.
[Ricard pops back up, but Scrayper puts him right back down with a
quick spinning martial arts kick.
Scrayper slides to the outside and retrieves a steel chair and brings
it back into the ring.]
JL: No more playing around...Scrayper wants to end this thing, I'm
sure.
[Ricard rises to his feet...]
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[CHAIR SHOT POP!]
DG: RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES!
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[POP!]
DG: ANOTHER!
JL: BUT RICARD'S STILL STANDING!
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: Not anymore!
JL: Whoa! Ricard's head must have left an imprint on that chair!
_Damn_ what a chair shot!
DG: Ortega counts Ricard down!
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
DG: Ricard is busted open! Look at him!
JL: He needs to get up!
"SIX!"
"SEVEN!"
"EIGHT!"
"NIN-"
[POP!]
DG: Ricard is back up! He's bleeding, but he's standing!
[Scrayper takes the chair and tosses it to a groggy Ricard. Ricard
catches it as Scrayper comes at him
with a spinning kick...]
[POP!]
DG: No! Ricard drops the chair and catches Scrayper in midair!
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK-THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[HUGE POP!]
DG: WHAT A POWERSLAM ON THAT CHAIR! SCRAYPER GETS DRIVEN BACK-FIRST
DOWN ONTO THAT STEEL CHAIR!
JL: Great counter by Ricard...smart, quick thinking on his part.
[Ricard lifts Scrayper up off the mat and grabs a front facelock.]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Nice layout front suplex by Ricard...and he holds on to the front
facelock...back up...
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Brainbuster! Ricard drops the Scrayper right on his head with a
vicious brainbuster!
[Ricard gets up and tells Ortega to count Scrayper down.]
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
"SEVEN!"
"EIGHT!"
[POP!]
DG: Scrayper is back up again! He will not stay down!
JL: The guy can take _ungodly_ amounts of punishment...it'll take a
lot to keep him down.
[We cut to the ramp, where Chris Chronic watches the match, a big grin
on his face.]
DG: Oh, I see. Chronic is just _loving_ this.
JL: Hey, I am too. It's a great match! Don't blame him for that.
DG: He's getting a sick pleasure from watching these two great
competitors tear each other apart...he's
enjoying it for the wrong reasons, Jeff. He just wants to see Ricard
hurt...and won't care if Scrayper
is hurt, either.
JL: Hell, I don't think the _Scrayper_ cares if the Scrayper is hurt.
[Ricard corrals the Scrayper in a side headlock, wrenching at his
neck. Scrayper shoves the big man to
the ropes, and ducks under a running lariat attempt. Scrayper comes
back with a dropkick to the knee of
his opponent, staggering Ricard for a second, enough time for Scrayper
to drive his knee into Ricard's
jaw!]
DG: Knee to the face!
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: Oh man, what a vicious kick to the chest!
"SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: Another one!
[Scrayper prepares for one big final kick...]
[REVERSAL POP!]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[HUGE POP!]
DG: As Scrayper went for the kick, Ricard swept his legs out...and
then hit a _HUGE_ German suplex!
JL: Not just any German suplex...he literally lifted Scrayper off the
mat, as Scrayper was lying
_stomach first_ on the mat, all the way into that suplex!
DG: That is just _scary_ strength from Ricard.
JL: Definitely. And a nasty, head-dropping suplex, too.
[Ricard picks Scrayper up and lifts him into a military press!]
DG: Ricard presses Scrayper over his head! He's walking towards the
ropes...]
[Ricard turns towards Chronic, on the ramp, and yells "Remember this?"
He then throws Scrayper all the
way over the top!]
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!"
[HUGE POP!]
DG: RICARD THROWS SCRAYPER ALL THE WAY OVER THE TOP AND JAW FIRST INTO
THE GUARD RAIL! EXACTLY WHAT HE
DID TO CHRONIC LAST WEEK!
JL: Now _that_ was definitely a message intended for Chris Chronic.
DG: It sure was.
[Ricard slides outside and hauls up Scrayper and chops him across the
chest. He then grabs Scrayper by
the back of the head and leads him towards the announce table and
lifts him on to his shoulder to slam
him through it, but Scrayper floats over and then kicks Ricard in the
back of the knees. Scrayper grabs
a TV monitor from the announce table...]
"CRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: OH!
[...and crushes it across Ricard's skull!]
"CRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: Two shots to Ricard's head with that TV monitor!
[Scrayper rolls Ricard onto the announce table and heads to the
apron...and climbs to the top rope, as
the crowd cheers.]
DG: Don't tell me...
JL: Hey, it's Scrayper...and here comes the crazy son of a bitch off
the top!
[Scrayper leaps into the air...]
#FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH#
#FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH#
#FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH#
#FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH#
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!"
[The arena explodes.]
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
DG: RICARD ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY, AND SCRAYPER CRASHES THROUGH THE
ANNOUNCE TABLE!
JL: ____CARNAGE___!!!!
DG: THIS MIGHT DO IT RIGHT HERE - RICARD IS SOMEHOW BACK UP! HE'S
STANDING!
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
"SEVEN!"
[Scrayper starts to stir...]
"EIGHT!"
DG: Can Scrayper make it up in time?
"NINE!"
[...]
"TEN-"
[HUGE POP!]
DG: HE'S BACK UP! SOMEHOW, SOMEWAY, SCRAYPER IS _STANDING_!
JL: Unbelievable!
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: AND RICARD SHOWS NO PITY, ROCKING HIM WITH A LARIAT! HE JUST ABOUT
TOOK HIS HEAD OFF!
[Ricard grabs Scrayper by the head and pulls him up into a standing
headscissors. He lifts him up...]
DG: He's going to piledrive him on the floor!
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[HARDCORE POP!]
DG: SCRAYPER PICKED UP A TV MONITOR AND DRILLED RICARD IN THE HEAD
WITH IT! WHAT A DESPERATION MOVE!
JL: Both guys are down again.
[We cut to Chronic on the ramp, smiling at the action going on outside
the ring. We cut back to
Scrayper, slowly lifting himself back up as the ref counts both men
down. He reaches his feet, as Ricard
starts to stir. Scrayper doesn't worry about the count, but instead
hauls Ricard right back up to his
feet.]
DG: Both men back up, somehow. These guys are amazing.
[Scrayper punches Ricard in the face a few times, reeling the big man.
He then looks around and sees...]
[HUGE HARDCORE POP!]
DG: THE STAPLE GUN! SCRAYPER FOUND HIS STAPLE GUN!
[Scrayper grabs his gun as Ricard retreats into the ring, waiting for
Scrayper to enter. Scrayper pauses
and then quickly slides inside the ring. Ricard immediately stomps him
several times, but Scrayper holds
on to his weapon tightly. Ricard picks up Scrayper and sends him to
the ropes...]
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
[WHAT A KICK POP!]
DG: WHAT A DAMN YAKUZA KICK! HE _ROCKED_ RICARD WITH THAT KICK!
[Scrayper stands over Ricard's body, holding the staple gun in the air
to a huge pop from the crowd,
eerily standing as if he'd be smiling, if you could see his
face...taunting Ricard...]
[Scrayper readies his staple gun as Ricard lies below him...]
"KAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-CHINNNNNNNK!"
[HUGE HARDCORE POP!]
DG: HE STAPLED HIS GOD DAMN HEAD! SCRAYPER STAPLED HIM!
"KAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-CHINNNNNNNNNNNK!"
[SICKENED HARDCORE POP!]
DG: ANOTHER ONE!
[The referee tries to restrain Scrayper, but Scrayper will have none
of that...]
"KAAAAAAAAAAAAA-CHIIIIIIINNNNNNNNK!"
DG: OH MY GOD! SCRAYPER STAPLED HECTOR ORTEGA! HE JUST STAPLED HIM!
HE'S OUT OF CONTROL!
[We cut to a shot of Chronic, now starting to look slightly worried.
Chronic stares at Scrayper in the
ring and then heads back through the curtain.]
DG: It looks like Chronic's going to get some help...Scrayper is out
of control...
JL: But listen! The fans love it!
"SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!"
"SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!"
"SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!"
"SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!"
[The Scrayper stands above Ricard once more with his staple gun...]
[REVERSAL POP!]
DG: RICARD TAKES SCRAYPER DOWN AND INTO AN ANKLE LOCK! LOOK AT RICARD!
LOOK AT THE BLOOD! LOOK AT THE
INTENSITY! HE'S GOING TO BREAK SCRAYPER'S DAMN ANKLE!
[Ricard lets out a yell, blood streaming down his face, staples
embedded in his forehead. Scrayper grabs
his staple gun, but Ricard keeps a hold of the ankle lock and stomps
Scrayper in the wrist, crushing his
hand and then kicks the staple gun out of the ring.]
DG: The ankle lock is applied! And if Ricard breaks Scrayper's ankle,
he _WILL_ win this match! It's
Last Man Standing, after all!
[Chronic returns, sending referee Jason Bach down to the ring. Bach
looks less than enthused. A
paramedic comes out to check on Hector Ortega as well.]
[Scrayper finally is able to roll out of the ankle lock, but rolls
back to his feet and right into a
Ricard kick, placed in the back of his knee to put him back to the
mat. Ricard grabs a steel chair and
wrenches it around Scrayper's ankle, and then...]
"CRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: HE'S STOMPING THE CHAIR! HE'S TRYING TO BREAK HIS ANKLE!
JL: Great strategy...then he can't stand!
DG: Obviously...but what would these two _not_ do to each other to win
this match?
JL: I don't know, man...I just don't know.
"CRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: HE DOES IT AGAIN!
JL: Look at Scrayper...I've seen him in a lot of pain before and he
never shows it...but look at him
now, man...look at the pain Ricard is causing to his ankle.
[Ricard pulls the chair off of Scrayper's ankle and lifts his opponent
up to his feet. Ricard sets the
chair on the mat and then kicks Scrayper in the gut. He crosses the
arms...]
[POP!]
DG: RICARD WANTS THE FLAW!
[...]
[REVERSAL POP!]
DG: ARE YOU KIDDING ME? SCRAYPER COUNTERS, AND SWEEPS OUT HIS LEGS!
JL: NO WAY!
[Scrayper takes the big man by the legs and readies him...and
slingshots him into the ringpost!]
DG: Slingshot into the post, and...
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
DG: Scrayper with an inverted DDT! Ricard is down!
JL: And Scrayper is headed up top! It's time for the Dream Scream,
baby!
DG: Scrayper's shooting star press has put many men away in the
past...but will it be enough to keep
Ricard down for the ten count?
[Scrayper slowly climbs up top, his ankle obviously in a lot of pain.
He readies himself up top as the
crowd comes to its feet...]
[POP!]
[...but Ricard pops up and shoves the referee into the ropes,
crotching Scrayper!]
DG: He took too much time! Scrayoer's bad ankle cost him there, as
Ricard shoves Bach into the ropes,
crotching Scrayper!
JL: And here comes Ricard!
[Ricard scales to the top with Scrayper, but faces the same way as his
opponent, instead of the
direction to it a superplex. With his back to Scrayper, he hooks his
arm, and lifts...]
"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"
[HUGE POP!]
DG: SUPER IPPONZEI! WE SAW THAT LAST WEEK! SCRAYPER COULD BE DOWN!
JL: With that ankle? He might be...
[Ricard stands over Scrayper as Bach makes the count.]
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
"SEVEN!"
[Scrayper starts to stir...]
"EIGHT!"
DG: CAN HE MAKE IT UP?
"NINE!"
JL: HE'S ALMOST...
"TEN-"
[HUGE POP!]
DG: YES! SCRAYPER IS BACK UP!
[Ricard immediately hooks up Scrayper in a front chancery and drops
him chest first across the top
rope.]
DG: Face first suplex on the ropes...
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
DG: Ohhh! Running kick to the head! Scrayper is on the apron, reeling!
[Ricard climbs to the apron alongside Scrayper and then hooks him in a
double underhook. He looks into
the crowd, as they pop like crazy, and then lifts Scrayper into the
air...]
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!"
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
"HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!" "HOLY SHIT!"
DG: RICARD TIGER BOMBS SCRAYPER THROUGH THE TIMEKEEPERS TABLE!
JL: HOLY SHIT!
DG: THAT COULD DO IT!
JL: _CARNAGE_!
[Ricard stands up, albeit barely, and demands Bach count Scrayper
down. Bach nods and begins...]
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
"SEVEN!"
"EIGHT!"
[Scrayper starts to stir! POP!]
DG: HE DOESN'T HAVE MUCH TIME!
"NINE!"
JL: HE'S ALMOST...NO! HE CAN'T...
"TEN?????"
[...]
[HUGE BLOW THE ROOF OFF POP!]
DG: NO! NO! NO! SCRAYPER IS _STILL STANDING_! I DON'T BELIEVE IT!
JL: Un-f*cking-believable.
DG: Look, though...as Scrayper has been busy trying to get back
up...Ricard has set up all those tables
on the entrance ramp!
JL: Whoa, you're right! Four tables, double decker style! Someone's
going through 'em!
[Ricard lifts Scrayper up to his feet and pulls him up the ramp,
nailing him with elbows to the mask. He
then lifts Scrayper in position for a powerbomb.]
DG: Oh man...Ricard's going to powerbomb him to hell...oh no...four
tables...
[Ricard lifts Scrayper up, but Scrayper fights with everything he can,
hanging on to Ricard's leg.
Ricard lifts again, and Scrayper, desperate, reaches out and grabs...]
[His staple gun.]
[Ricard lifts Scrayper all the way up for the powerbomb...]
"KAAAAAAAAAAAAA-CHINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNK!"
[HUGE SICKENED HARDCORE REVERSAL AND EVERYTHING ELSE POP!]
DG: HE STAPLED HIS _EYE_! HE STAPLED HIS F*CKING EYE!
JL: That's one way to counter a powerbomb, I guess!
DG: I don't believe it!
[Ricard falls back, clutching at his eye, as Scrayper uses this time
to regroup a little bit. Finally,
Scrayper stands up, barely, and then grabs Ricard by the head and
pulls him to his feet. He pulls Ricard
up the ramp, driving elbows into his jaw and forearms into his face.
He then takes his staple gun and
cracks Ricard across the head with it, dropping the big man to the
metal ramp. Scrayper then...]
[HUGE POP!]
[...looks up.]
DG: No...what the hell is he thinking...
JL: Did you see Chronic scamper out of there when these two started
heading up the ramp? He doesn't want
to be near this.
DG: Jeff, is Scrayper thinking about _climbing_ the scaffolding?
[Scrayper starts to climb! HUGE POP!]
JL: That's what it looks like!
[Scrayper slowly climbs the scaffolding, his ankle still bothering
him, going slowly. However, Ricard is
able to rise to his feet, and as Scrayper climbs to the top, Ricard
reaches up and grabs him by the
ankle, the bad ankle. Ricard then...]
[HUGE POP!]
DG: WHAT THE HELL? RICARD IS CLIMBING UP, TOO!
JL: This is crazy...someone's gonna fall off...it's gonna end right
here...
DG: The end is near, Jeff...I agree.
[Ricard and Scrayper both reach the top of the scaffolding, above the
FSW Big Screen, and begin to
exchange blows! The crowd erupts!]
DG: RICARD! SCRAYPER! ATOP THE SCAFFOLDING! 10, 15, 20 FEET IN THE
AIR!
JL: I don't know how high that is, but it's pretty high...
DG: Whoever falls...they won't be wrestling for a _long_ time...
[Each man trades right hands before Ricard blocks one. He tries to
biel Scrayper off, but Scrayper
blocks it, and rakes Ricard's eyes.]
DG: SCRAYPER'S GOT HIM!
[But Ricard blocks, kneeing Scrayper in the gut. He delivers some
forearm blows before both men tie up,
and...]
DG: OH NO!!!!!!!
#FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH#
#FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH#
#FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH#
#FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH#
#FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH#
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"
"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"
DG: RICARD! SCRAYPER! OFF THE SCAFFOLDING! FOUR TABLES! I CAN'T...MY
GOD...I CAN'T...
JL: HOLY F*CKING SHI* JESUS CHRIST OH MY GOD HOLY _SH*T_~!~!~!
DG: THE REF BEGINS THE COUNT! THIS ONE IS OVER!
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
"SEVEN!"
"EIGHT!"
"NINE!"
"TEN!"
[HEEL HEAT!]
DG: Neither man is up...no surprise there...it looks like this match
is a draw...I don't believe it,
what a damn match...
[Jason Bach confers with Ryan Allen, who then announces...]
RA: Ladies and gentlemen, neither competitor could answer the ten
count! Therefore, this contest...
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
DG: The fans don't like ties...they want to see a winner...
[Allen continues.]
RA: Ahem. Therefore, this contest...
[...]
_WILL CONTINUE_!
[HUGE BLOW THE ROOF OFF POP!]
RA: The first man to reach his feet will be declared the winner!]
[HUGE POP!]
DG: Oh yeah! The match will go on...but it can't! Neither guy can get
back up!
JL: Maybe...just maybe...they only need to stand for a second...
"RICARD!" "RICARD!" "RICARD!" "RICARD!"
"SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!"
"RICARD!" "RICARD!" "RICARD!" "RICARD!"
"SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!"
"RICARD!" "RICARD!" "RICARD!" "RICARD!"
"SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!"
"RICARD!" "RICARD!" "RICARD!" "RICARD!"
"SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!" "SCRAYPER!"
[The crowd urging them on...the thrill of the amazing moment...the
pain rushing through their
bodies...the desire to win...something, makes both men start to stir!
HUGE POP!]
DG: THEY'RE...MOVING! I DON'T BELIEVE IT!
JL: See? They're still alive!
DG: Can either of them make it to their feet to win this match?
[Scrayper and Ricard both stir...both move...both start to get up!]
DG: I think so! We might see a winner to this match!]
[Both men reach their knees, amidst the carnage of shattered
tables...]
JL: Who's it going to be?
[And, as the crowd urges both men on, one men reaches his feet for a
_brief_ second, before crumpling
back to his feet, the other not able to stand, falling back to the
ground. The crowd goes nuts, and...]
[DING! DING! DING!]
DG: WE HAVE A WINNER! I CAN'T BELIEVE HE MADE IT TO HIS FEET!
JL: WHAT A MATCH! THIS WAS LIKE NOTHING I'VE EVER SEEN BEFORE!
[Ryan Allen makes it official...]
RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the Last Man Standing Match...
R I C A R D ! ! !
[HUGE POP!]
DG: RICARD DID IT! SOMEHOW HE MADE IT TO HIS FEET! SCRAYPER'S ANKLE
JUST WOULDN'T LET HIM STAND BACK UP!
JL: This was absolutely amazing, Damon.
[Chris Chronic reappears through the curtain, staring down Ricard, who
lies on the ground, barely able
to move. Chronic holds a mic in hand. He waits until the _loud_ crowd
quiets, and then speaks.]
CC: You know, officially, tonight you "won," Ricard...
[Chronic smirks.]
CC: But _I'd_ say that amongst you and Scrayper, there were no
"winners" tonight, wouldn't you say?
[HEEL POP!]
CC: I hope this taught you your lesson, Ricard...was this pain really
worth it? Was it really worth it
over a simple _apology_?
[Chronic shakes his head as Ricard slowly starts to rise one more
time, the crowd cheering him on...]
CC: Yeah...see if you can stand...I doubt it...you and that masked
_freak_ over there will probably
never walk again...and for what? Was it really worth it, you dumb
asshole?
[Chronic chuckles as Ricard continues to try and stand...]
CC: You should have just apologized to me, Ricard...you should have
just apologized...
[HUGE POP!]
DG: Ricard is standing! He's staring up the ramp right at Chronic!
[Chronic stares, jaw dropped, as Ricard turns to him and stares him
down, glaring intensely, and
then...]
[HUGE MOTHERFUCKING POP!]
DG: RICARD FLIPS OFF CHRONIC AGAIN! HE TOLD HIM TO F*CK OFF!
JL: WHOA! NOT SMART!
[Chronic absolutely _flips out_.]
CC: YOU MOTHERF*CKING C*CKSUCKING PIECE OF SH*T! YOU'RE GOING TO PAY,
YOU F*CKING PIECE OF SH*T! NOBODY
DISRESPECTS ME, RICARD! DO YOU UNDERSTAND? YOU F*CKING PIECE OF SH*T!
THIS COULD HAVE BEEN OVER, YOU
F*CKING IDIOT - THIS COULD HAVE BEEN OVER! YOU'D BETTER REMEMBER THAT
YOU C*CKSUCKER!
[HUGE HEEL POP!]
CC: It's all f*cking over for you, Ricard...
[Chronic throws down the mic with a _thud_ and leaves, exiting through
the curtain, Ricard staring a
hole through him as he leaves. "I Against I" then replays over the PA
system to a huge pop as Ricard
throws his arms in the air to a huge pop from the crowd.]
DG: What a night! What a night! And by the looks of things, we're just
getting heated up here in FSW!
JL: No kidding. Damn.
[Ricard then turns to see Scrayper getting up to his feet. The crowd
buzzes as Ricard lets Scrayper rise
himself, not helping him at all. The crowd goes nuts as Scrayper
barely stands, but stands nonetheless,
looking Ricard in the eye. The two stare each other down...Ricard
staring into the eerily emotionless
Dead Skin Mask...]
DG: What a moment...what a moment...
[And as the two staredown and the arena explodes with flashbulbs...]
[We fade to black.]
FSW Productions, 2003