Written by Matt
The sound of water on sand echos along the somewhat less-than-pristine Atlantic coast. Grey storm clouds loom precariously overhead, keeping beach-goers cooped up in the boardwalk snack bar.
Except for one man.
Jack Breaker stands proudly on the beach, bare toes curling up on the wet sand, hair tousled by the force of the ocean breeze. His unbuttoned Hawaiian print shirt flaps wildly back, revealing the chest of a man who has probably not seen the inside of a gym in many a month. His eyes, usually firey and vibrant, are concealed behind emo-style glasses with tinted lenses.
Jack stares with defiance on the shore, staring into the murky skies as if daring it to rain. A small red pail hangs from his clenched fist.
Jack: Well, beach, it's just you and me. Go ahead. Rain. You can't stop me from doing what I have to do.
Jack stoops down in the sand and procures a small shovel from his pocket. He begins to dig furiously into the sand, scooping it into the pail. When the pail is full, he carefully pats it down, then flips it upside down and empties the contents. The wet sand sticks and forms a small cylindrical monolith. He shakes some sand off of his hands and continues his meticulous work, molding and shaping the sand into the shape of a wall.
Suddenly, a shrill voice rings out from the boardwalk. Jack doesn't budge from his task, but cocks his head to the side to acknowledge the disturbance. He sees his wife, Aubrey, bounding over the sand dunes to meet him.
Aubrey: Jack, what are you doing? Don't you know it's going to rain?
Jack: What are you, the channel five weathergirl all of a sudden? I'm making a sand castle.
Aubrey *Sigh*. You're just like a child sometimes.
Jack: So? I spent twenty years of my life as a child. I think I know a thing or two about it.
Aubrey: Well, why don't you come back to the snack bar? I just ordered a plate of chili fries.
Jack: With cheese and onions?
Aubrey: Of course.
Jack: Hmm keep them warm for me. I have to finish this. It's important.
Aubrey: Well, come in before it rains. I don't want you catching a cold. You have an important match today.
Aubrey turns to leave, bumping into a third person in the process. She quickly backs up and cowers as the figure approaches Jack. Aubrey hightails it out of the line of fire, as the figure's shadow falls on Jack's work. Annoyed, he turns to acknowledge the disturbance.
Jack: What in the hell oh. Hey there, Nukey.
HardCase: Hard Case.
Jack: No, no. I remember you. From the old IWO, right? Nuke? Or what's it called now you were in Action with me uh Envelope? Invalid yeah that's it. So, how's life been treating you?
HardCase gives him a cold emotionless glare, and begins to shove past Breaker.
Jack: Oh, are you still mad about last week? Listen, just because you can beat up Tom Ford doesn't make you the champion. Fuck, Tommy couldn't wrestle his way out of a wet paper bag. Why don't you just chill out and we'll see who walks away with the belt at Gold and Glo
HardCase stops him abruptly by bringing his foot down on one of the towers of Jack's castle.
Jack: Hey! I was just
HardCase: If you put so little value on your health...fine. We'll step into the ring, you'll limp out, I'll casually make my exit like the champion I am. Whatever delusions you have about getting MY belt you can deal with yourself. But if you EVER stop me whilst I'm walking again...
HardCase takes another whack at Jack's sand castle, this time kicking the entire front wall into Jack's face. Jack spits out the sand and stands up to confront HardCase.
HardCase snickers arrogantly and walks past, leaving Jack to try to rebuild his ruined castle.
Written by Ford
We open up to the beaches of Atlantic City, New Jersey. Not necessarily the dirtiest beach on the east coast, but then again, it's nowhere near the best. There are a couple of hundred people in attendance, and a few more are walking along the boardwalk behind the set up, looking on with confusion. It's not often that full sporting events get played out on the beaches of their fair city. What a lucky day for them to view insanity.
The clouds are a bit dark and dreary. To the CEO's dismay, it seems that the weather was calling for scattered showers. They only hope it doesn't occur during the matches on the evening, because there's no way they'd be able to clear the ring realistically without interrupting kayfabe.
President Ford sits in his office, which is actually just a beaten broken down Honda Civic. If you asked who owned it, you wouldn't doubt him to say it was his cousins and he never got the keys. Whatever the case, his head is resting on the steering wheel, his hand hitting the dashboard every couple of moments.
He is whole heartedly regretting his decision to have the show outside. Sure, last year, the event went off without a hitch. But last year, was a whole different ball game. Last year, luck was still on their side.
As crazy as that may sound.
Ford just mutters to himself, slamming his head into the wheel this time. That's when he hears a light knock on his office window.
Ford turns to his side and sees Road Agent Jax Stone standing there, holding a clipboard in his hands. Ford lets out a sigh and hits the power window button to roll it down.
Ford: What is it now Jax.
Jax Stone: It seems, there's a problem.
Ford lets out yet another sigh.
Ford: There's always a problem. What is it today Jax?
Jax Stone: Pirates.
Ford does a double take, raises his eyebrows, and cracks just the slightest smile.
Ford: You're kidding. But wait, you're Jax Stone. You don't kid.
Jax Stone: I am actually. Not about the problem, but there aren't any pirates.
Ford: Good, because I'm making that into Jack Breaker's new gimmick.
Jax now does a double take.
Ford: See, I'm allowed to kid. The audience gets that. Anyway, what's the problem.
Jax Stone: Tides sir. Seems as if there's thought from Harbor patrol that we might be affected. They're just keeping us on our toes, but we might have to shut down if things don't go our way.
Ford: Do they ever go our way?
Jax Stone: Only when we're in Reno.
Ford: Tell the boys. They'll need to know this in case something does happen. We can't shut down, we don't have the funds to pay for hotel rooms for the boys, so we'll have to go on rain or shine, tidal wave or no tidal wave.
Jax Stone: Of course. I'll go and do that.
Jax walks off, as Ford throws his head back and sighs.
Ford: Can't anything ever go right?
We head to the beach, where the ring has been set up. There's some steel guardrail blocking off around the ring, while fans crowd in in swimsuits and normal beach wear attire. The turnout seems a bit small with the call of rain, and the people who did show up seem to be holding umbrellas nearby. There's a long aisle, presumably where the wrestlers walk down, where a red carpet has been laid. It leads into an awning, into the bottom of a ship like cutout. It's poorly done, and can easily be noticed that it's not a real ship by a six year old. A small building resides beyond that, which is where the wrestlers must enter from. It leads up to the boardwalk, where tourists and locals alike can look inside. To say the least, it's not the best of situations for our locker room.
Greg Parker and JT are nowhere to be seen, but they can be heard, dubbed in over the events that are occurring. Chris Astro and Meygon stand in the ring, each holding a microphone, as the crowd slowly hands in their tickets and enter for the general admission the IWO has given.
Chris Astro: Folks, WELCOME
Meygon cuts him off.
Meygon: to IWO's SEVENTH version of Beach Party!
A beach ball bounces up in the air from the crowd while they continue to squabble about who gets to say the next word. The ball flies into the ring, knocking Astro's microphone out of his hand and allowing the flimsy dressed Meygon to speak. She's wearing a bikini made out of netting, so the males in the audience are definitely pleased to see her speak instead of the man in the suit.
Meygon: And the IWO gives out their heartfelt thanks to EACH and every one of you!
Meygon catches the eye of one audience member in particular, a man, cloaked in black, but muscular from the look of his trench coat. His long black hair waves in the air, as her eye lashes flutter.
Meygon: Especially you.
Meygon stops and realizes what she said, and continues.
Meygon: Whatever. If you people had my power, you'd be doing the same thing I am.
GP: And with that, fans, let's welcome you to IWO's Beach Party. I'm Greg Parker, and I'm here with my assistant JT.
JT: You're assistant?
GP: You're just comic relief and you know it! Fans, we're welcoming you to the seventh version of Beach Party, and if you hear us, that means you bought the DVD or VHS. GOOD FOR YOU!
Parker raises his thumbs in a thumbs up manner, but hell if anyone can see him since he's just an audio track.
GP: Anyway, tonight we will see the first round to the World Heavyweight Championship tournament, as eight men compete for a chance to touch the gold.
JT: I don't see why they bother, it's not a gold bikini like that hot brunette in the front row.
GP: Well, why don't you go down there and see if you can reach out and touch someone.
JT: I can't.
GP: Why stuck?
JT: No. Restraining order.
GP: She's one of the lucky fourteen?
JT: Well no
Parker audibly sighs.
GP: Also tonight, in the second fall of a best of seven series, the opening match to fWo's Cyberslam happens as Great Dragon and Ninja K go ONE ON ONE!
JT: Cyberslam huh? Who did fWo Cyber SLAM?
JT: What? Cyber slamming someone is having sex with someone over the internet, so who did the fWo do that to.
GP: I think they did that to your empty skull.
JT: No. I don't think so. I'd remember that if they did that.
GP: Not only this, but Great Dragon's current nemesis High Flyer is here tonight, as he joins up with his former partner and Team Viagra, and most notably, his sister's boyfriend, Tony Davis to take on Arcade and Sons, two recent additions from Action! Wrestling. Also, we have the debuts of three newcomers to the IWO. Deft takes on long time IWOer Donnie Daze, as Hurley Cambria and The Amazing Casoraki make their debuts. To tell you the truth, I'm just salivating at the thought of Casoraki, an import from Japan, wrestling in our ring.
JT: You're just eye humping him because he has the word amazing in his name.
GP: Well, yeah.
Parker hangs his head in shame. Once again, since it's an audio track, no one notices.
GP: Also, former IOW superstar Kory Storm goes one on one with former PIW superstar the Hardcore...
GP: Homo, Jamal Wilson.
There's an awkward pause.
JT: Oh dear GOD.
GP: But let's get RIGHT to it!
JT: NOT WITH THE HARDCORE HOMO! Oh dear GOD! That word play. THAT WORD PLAY~!?!? Why must God tempt me so much to end my own life?
Hardcore Dan vs. Hardcore God
Written by Aaron Smith
GP: Okay, gang, if we can by-pass JT's homoerotic desires, this next match-up is between-
JT: Wait, what did you just say?
GP: I say lots of things. All the time.
JT: Yes you did. You called the audience gang.
GP: Yeah, so? I don't get why you're upset about that, considering what else I just said.
JT: So only really annoying people call everybody else gang!
GP: Oh, please. That's completely ridiculous.
JT: Oh yeah? Well, you said it, so I think you proved my point!
GP: I did not! Lots of cool people say gang!
JT: Like who?
GP: Well ... um ... the Fonz, for one!
JT: The Fonz did not call people gang.
GP: I'm pretty sure he did.
JT: No, all he could say was Eyyyyyyyyy! Damn Canadian.
GP: JT, the Fonz wasn't Canadian.
JT: Yeah, and Gary Coleman ain't Mexican, but he's still a midget!
GP: That made no sense whatsoever.
JT: YOUR FACE makes no sense whatsoever.
GP: JT, just shut up. For your safety and the safety of the world, just shut up. Now, if we can FINALLY get on with this match between the Hardcore God and Hardcore Dan- Oh, damn it to hell! While I've been arguing with your retarded ass, the competitors have come down and this match has already started!
Sure enough, both wrestlers are already in the ring. Dan takes a charge at the Hardcore God, but H-God (as he will be referred to for the remainder of this match, because that's a hell of a lot shorter) catches him in the face with a superkick that just about knocks Dan's teeth out.
GP: Wow, nice move by the Hardcore God!
JT: OK, who the HELL are these two? I've never seen them before in my life. Since when did we start employing homeless people? Besides Al Coholic, of course, but that was a one-time thing.
GP: One, I don't think Al was homeless. And two, if you would actually [I]research[/I] the matches any, you'd know that both these guys are new talent to the IWO.
JT: Research? Matches? Bagels?!
GP: I never said anything about bagels, JT.
JT: Oh, I guess I'm just hungry.
GP: The guy who's getting stomped pretty viciously right now is Hardcore Dan, who's one of our newest acquisitions. And I know you've seen the Hardcore God before, because he wrestled in a match last Hostile Takeover against HardCase! And took quite a beating, I might add, but he seems to have recovered nicely.
H-God pulls Dan to his feet and shoves him into a corner, where he begins unloading with painful-looking (and sounding) chops to his chest. The crowd begins delivering a Nature Boy-esque WHOOOOOOOOO!! after each chop, which causes the God to curl his lip in disgust and flick the fans off. They retaliate with a chorus of boos, as the God switches to a closed fist and just socks Dan square in the nose, which appears to break it.
JT: Whoooo, blood! I kinda like this God guy. He's mean, yet sadistic, along with a touch of sadism.
GP: Yeah, and he doesn't appear to have much love for Ric Flair either, from his response to the fans' Nature Boy calls.
Dan slumps down in the corner, and the God backs up for a moment, only to return with a kick square to the genitalia.
JT: OW! What the hell did this other guy ever do to him?
GP: It's funny you should mention that, actually. Dan and H-God, as he's called for short, actually have a bit of history together. They apparently used to be in some minor fed named the UWA together, where Dan claims to have beaten H-God for his Hardcore title. He also says that the two of them are really twins I guess fraternal, since they look nothing alike. The Hardcore God denies both claims, especially the one about them being related, and has vowed to make Dan pay. He's actually, heh heh, promised to, er, take Dan's life tonight, but I somehow doubt that will be happening.
JT: I dunno, he looks like he's kinda lost it
H-God is choking Dan with his boot while glaring around at the arena with a crazed look in his eye.
GP: No, I think he kinda always looks like that.
As his face starts to turn blue, Dan finally manages to pry H-God's foot from his throat, and sink his teeth right into his opponent's leg. H-God screams in pain, then holds onto the ropes so he can use his other foot to try to kick Dan off of him. Finally Dan lets go of his grip and rolls out of the ring. After taking several moments to feel his leg and make sure that Dan didn't break the skin, the God follows him out to the sand.
JT: That Dan's a biter.
GP: So I see. Hope he doesn't have rabies.
Dan charges the God on the outside, but H-God simply sidesteps and chucks Dan headfirst into a ringpost. The God smirks at his downed opponent and signals to his midget that accompanied him to ringside. The midget trots up with the Hardcore God's trusty kendo stick and hands it to him.
JT: Whuh-oh! Looks like we might see some BLLLLOOOOOOOOODDDDD!!!
GP: JT, we've already seen blood. Dan's nose has been bleeding quite profusely for several minutes now.
JT: Why must you always ruin my special moments?
The God approaches Dan as he's struggling to his feet and rears back with the stick, but Dan suddenly leaps forward and slaps a hand on each of H-God's ears, while shouting WADE!
JT: What the hell was that?!
GP: I believe the Hardcore God has just been waded.
JT: Oh, OK.
Dan takes this opportunity to snatch up the kendo stick that H-God dropped while clutching his ears and trying to shake the ringing out of them. He turns into a series of successive kendo stick shots delivered with quick repetition to his head. After the seventh shot, the God tumbles over backwards. Dan throws the kendo stick aside and rolls H-God over, then begins shoving sand into his face and mouth.
JT: Oh, that is just nasty!
GP: Agreed, but it also seems pretty effective. The God is struggling just to breath through all that stuff, and it's most certainly going to affect his vision.
After sputtering through all the sand for about twenty seconds, the God is finally saved when Dan is distracted by the midget, who was attempting to sneak up on Dan with the kendo stick.
Dan : OOMPA-LOOMPA! Tee hee!
Dan leaps off of his opponent and tackles down the midget, who turned to flee when he saw Dan racing after him. He begins tickling the crap out of the midget while giggling like a schoolgirl yes, girl, not boy.
GP: Sweet Jesus, I haven't seen that level of ferocity in midget tickling since my days as a Tallahassee midget wrangler!
JT: Man, do you EVER shut up about that?
GP: I know you're still mad that YOU never got to live out your dreams of being a midget wrangler, JT, but that's no reason to take your anger out on me!
JT: I'm sorry. It just hurts so bad! Wait, no, those are my hemorrhoids.
H-God rises to his feet, and seeing his midget being tickled to death, grabs a chair sitting at ringside and takes a running swing to Dan's head.
GP: He teed off on that boy's melon like it was a golfball!
JT: Why would he hit a golfball with a chair?
GP: Um because of you! That's why!
The Hardcore God takes a moment to taunt to the crowd with the upraised chair before raining several more brutal swings down on Dan's back. The deranged newcomer writhes in pain (yes, WRITHES, because people who say thrives in pain are IDIOTS who have no idea what that word even MEANS GAH!) as H-God opens the chair and sets it down on a smooth area of sand next to Dan.
GP: What the hell's that madman going to do now? He's mad, I tell you! Mad!
JT: Yes, we get the point, Greg.
GP: Well, just making sure, you know, I don't want- MAAAAAAAAADDDDDDD!!!!
The God picks up Dan, who now also has his forehead busted open by the previous chairshot to the face. H-God hooks him, lifts him up, then spikes Dan down directly onto the open chair with a stiff brainbuster that makes a sickening sound as it tears Dan's head open a good bit more.
JT: Oh man, that was SICK! SWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEETTTTT!!
GP: Good Lord, Dan might really be dead!
The God grins like a madman as he stares down at Dan's motionless body, but shakes his head back and forth to indicate that he's not done.
GP: He can NOT be serious! Enough is enough, you sick bastard! Just end the match now and prove your damn point!
JT: Oh, shut up, Greg. Some of us WANT to see how far he'll go!
GP: How do you sleep at night?
JT: Normally a hammer puts me right out.
H-God lifts Dan by his hair and pretty much drags him, with the help of his midget, down the beach to the shoreline. He takes a look back towards the half-horrified, half-thrilled audience and gestures down at Dan before plunging his head into the water.
GP: HE'S TRYING TO DROWN HIM! THAT SON OF A BITCH IS TRYING TO DROWN A FELLOW HUMAN BEING!
JT: Shhh, I'm trying to hear the gargling!
Dan, refreshed by the impact of the water, as well as the salt entering his wounds, regains consciousness and begins thrashing around. The God manages to still hold him underwater, though, hammering his back with vicious elbows and kicking him in the side. Dan's spastic movements start to die down within a few moments, as the God holds his head underwater with a manic look in his eyes. Suddenly, he is jerked backwards by several large hands.
GP: Oh, thank God! Some police officers on hand at the show are restraining the God from doing further damage to Dan!
JT: Aww, party poopers!
The God fights momentarily within their grasp, but then settles down as he feels handcuffs being locked around his wrists behind his back. He watches on with obvious satisfaction as paramedics pull Dan's body from the water and carefully place him on a stretcher. The medics rush Dan away from the waterside as the Hardcore God is led after him by the officers, with a sadistic look of joy in his eyes the entire time.
GP: Just look at that evil son of a bitch! He was really going to kill Dan if he had the chance! He really tried to do it!
JT: Well, I guess someone feels stupid about what they said about him earlier, hmm?
GP: Shut the hell up, JT. There's no way anyone could have known that he would seriously attempt murder. I really hope Dan's OK, and that H-God gets charges filed against him.
JT: Hey, everything's legal in a hardcore match. And I think I may just have found my new role model.
GP: You seriously disgust me.
Written by Ford
That is, until head road agent Jax Stone came running up to him on the beach. It was almost as if they were long lost lovers coming together for a hug in the middle in one of those cheesy romance movies. Then again, Ford wasn't running, and he knew that this wasn't good news, this was bad.
Ford: Jax, what the hell are you doing? Running? You're retired. Remember? No public excersise!
Jax Stone: We got a problem Sir.
Ford: We always have a problem. What's today's?
Jax Stone: Casoraki. He didn't make his flight.
Ford stands in his spot, and threw his fist into the air.
Ford: That would have been more effective and helpful if there was something there that I would have hit.
Jax Stone: Yeah, pretty much. Seems like SJPW was never planning to send Casoraki, and this was all some sort of self angle over there.
Ford: What? Are you serious? They screwed us in an angle?
Jax Stone: Pretty much.
Ford: So, what about Hurley?
Jax Stone: Well, there's no one backstage that we can toss out to him. The segment with Daniels is pre-recorded and everyone else has already or is already wrestling.
Ford lets out a sigh. He wasn't exactly thrilled with the prospect of a worker not working to receive a paycheck, even though they had to do the same thing with Tony Davis last month due to Tod's sickness.
Ford: Tell you what, talk to Hurley, I have an idea.
Jax: But, that's not all.
Ford: That isn't?
Jax lets out a sigh.
Jax: No, see, there was an error. It seems as if Coral isn't coming today.
Ford: What?! He's not? He's one of the most reliable guys in the business!
Jax: That's why I said there was an error. Seems, when we were sorting out who calls who with directions and what have you, Avalon was given to Jordan.
Ford: Hewitt, right?
Jax: Yeah. He was supposed to call, but he thought Friska was supposed to call
Ford: So, we have no Avalon, and one of our first round tournament matches won't... happen?
Jax: I guess Tod would advance through the errors to Gold and Glory.
Ford: I guess we have to do what we have to do. But I'm not sure how Tod is right now. I just hope he can go thirty minutes at Gold and Glory.
Jax: I just hope he gets better
Jax trails off, and Ford looks down at his feet, feeling guilty that he said he wanted Tod in the ring at Gold and Glory. He sighs, and the scene quietly fades to the ring.
Written by Doug
Dolby Jenkins: Greetings, Mr. Tod.
Schitzo Tod: What the...?!
Schitzo Tod motions to press the red panic button near his bed, but Dolby jumps on his bed and kicks his hand out of the way.
Dolby Jenkins: Press that button and I'll do you in faster then the US government did me in.
Schitzo Tod: What do you want from me?! I KNOW NOTHING!
Dolby Jenkins: Oh, it wasn't you that slept with my wife while I was away at war? I heard a little rumor floating around the hood that you t-bagged her.
Schitzo Tod: WHAT?! WIFE?! WHO ARE YOU?!?!! DO YOU EVEN HAVE A WIFE?!
Dolby Jenkins: SILENCE! MY WIFE IS INSIDE OF YOU AND I WANT HER OUT!
Dolby Jenkins grinding his crouch against the dazed Schitzo Tod. To Dolby, he is performing an exorcism on Schitzo Tod to get his "wife" out of him.
Dolby Jenkins: Oh, Mary. Oh, Mary. Come out of this devil...come out and play with your precious Dolby.
Schitzo Tod: This is great and everything, but you're going to knock my IV over and I really ought to get some sleep.
Dolby Jenkins: Let me stick *my* IV into *your* skin! That'll get the blood pumping. Eh, eh?
Jenkins winks and then does a back flip off Tod's bed...
Dolby Jenkins: THE EAGLE WILL LAND WHEN THE DUST CLEARS! AWAY, I GO!
And with that, Dolby Jenkins jumps out the window with his pants down before the hospital orderlies can catch him in the act. Let's just bounce to a still image of Matt Damon for an uncomfortable 28 seconds. Then back to JT and GP at Atlantic City
JT - Only since Y2J debuting on RAW have I seen such a prodigious debut! I'M DOWN WITH DOLBY!
GP - What the hell did I just witness? I think I need an exorcism.
Ash Robinson vs. Harold Hash
Written by Adam
JT: What is the next match on the card?
GP: Ash Robinson v. Harold Hash.
JT: Who v. who?
GP: They both use to be in the IWO you know. Ash is a former United States and North American champion while Hash is a former IML World champion.
JT: Oh okay I remember now but I'm confused.
GP: What is it now?
JT: Well, I thought Ash would be dead by now. Isn't he like older than Hulk Hogan?
GP: Umm No, I don't think so.
JT scratches his head as the camera pans to the ring where Meygon is standing with a microphone in her hand.
Meygon: The following match up is one fall. Introducing first from Raleigh, North Carolina weighing 235 pounds and standing 6 feet and 1 inch tall .HAROOLLLDDDDD HASSSHHHHHHH!!!!
'Hacksaw Decapitation' by Cannibal Corpse starts playing and Harold Hash walks out of in front of the IWO crowd. Some fans cheer while others boo either way Hash doesn't seem to care. Hash takes his time walking to the ring.
GP: Hash looks to be in great shape for his match tonight with Ash Robinson.
JT: What do you like looking at guy's bodies now or what? If so I think I'm going to move over there.
GP: No, I was just pointing out the fact that Hash looks like he is ready to compete here tonight.
JT: Sure keep telling yourself that.
Hash is now standing in the ring, he poses for the crowd and gets a small pop.
Meygon: Introducing his opponent from Los Angles, California standing 6 feet and 5 inches tall and weighing 260 pounds former IWO United States and North American champion ASHHHHHHHHHHH ROOOOOOOOBINNNNNNSONNNN!!!!
'Crawling' by Linkin Park starts playing as Ash walks from behind the curtain. Ash poses for a few seconds as a few in the crowd start cheering. He then starts walking to the ring and looks up at Hash after a few seconds pause he looks away and steps in the ring.
GP: Ash looks like he has put on a little weight since he was last in an IWO ring.
JT: He can still wrestle being that old?
GP: I guess we will find out.
JT: I'm surprised he was allowed back into the IWO looking like that and well being that old. I thought we had rules or something so we don't have wrestlers staying past their prime.
GP: I'm not for sure on that one JT.
Ding Ding Ding
GP: There is the bell and this match is underway.
Ash and Hash start circling each other in the center of the ring.
GP: These two have totally different styles when it comes to wrestling. Hash is more of a brawler while Ash is more of a technical wrestler. It is going to be interesting to see which one dictates this match. Whoever does is my pick to win this match up.
JT: Yeah whatever look at that gut on Ash there is no way he will be able to hang with Hash.
Both men lock up in the center of the ring and Hash sends Ash to the ropes. Ash avoids a clothesline attempt from Hash by ducking under his arm. Ash then hits the other side of the ropes and drop kicks Hash.
JT: Well, Ash is able to still jump off the ground somewhat.
Both men are back on their feet Hash tries to hit Ash with a right hand but Ash ducks and takes Hash to the ground.
GP: Both men are trying to get their style of wrestling going now. Hash tried to get his hardcore style going but missed with the punch and now he is paying for it in a headlock.
Ash has Hash in a headlock but Hash backs Ash up to the ropes and tries to send him the other side but Ash lets go and sends Hash flying through the ropes and down to the floor. Hash sits for a second looking up at Ash and then gets to his feet but doesn't get back in the ring.
GP: I think Ash is flustering Hash a little bit.
JT: Ray Charles could see that.
JT: What you didn't like that?
GP: Sorry I don't like bad jokes.
GP: Hash better get back in the ring or he will get counted out.
JT: I think he knows that you don't have to point out the obvious.
Hash rolls back in the ring and Ash lets him get back to his feet. Hash yells something to Ash that nobody really understands they lock up again and Hash gets the advantage and he picks up Ash and slams him to the mat. Before Ash can get to his feet Hash drops an elbow right on Ash's chest.
GP: Ohhh that had to hurt. Hash is on the offensive now he just picked up Ash and he bam a kick right to the stomach . What a DDT by Hash.
JT: Woohoo go Hash!
GP: You're an announcer you are supposed to be impartial.
JT: Since when?
Greg shakes his head and the camera goes back to the action in the ring. Hash hasn't let up on Ash one bit he is pounding double ax handles on Ash's back. Ash collapses to his hand and knees. Hash then runs to the ropes and bounces off and does a leg drop on the back of Ash's head. Ash then falls all the way down. Hash gets to his feet and starts playing to the crowd.
JT: Haha you tell them Hash!
GP: Hash has defently come to win here tonight.
JT: What a dumb comment.
GP: Why is it dumb?
JT: You think he came to lose?
GP: Of course not.
GP: Back to the action now in the ring.
Hash performs a swinging neck breaker on Ash and Hash jumps right up from the map while Ash gets up slowly and uses the ropes to help him up.
JT: Look at Ash he is in no shape to be out here. He all ready needs help from the ropes to get up.
GP: Well, I must agree Ash doesn't look to be in the best of shape here tonight.
Ash stumbles a little bit as Hash comes up to hit Ash in the face with a right hand but Ash ducks and picks Hash up and delivers a back body drop.
GP: Well, I guess we can't count Ash out just yet He still has some fight left in him.
JT: I would hope so he has hardly taken any punishment thus far in this match.
GP: If that was you in the ring this match would have lasted 5 seconds.
JT: I know neither one of them could hang with me.
GP: If you say so.
Ash drags Hash to the center of the ring then he puts on a figure four. Hash starts screaming in pain as Ash applies more pressure on Hash's knees. Hash tries to reach for the ropes but they are just out of reach.
GP: This could very well be the end of this match up if Hash cannot find a way out of this figure four. It is one of the most deadly holds in wrestling.
JT: The referee needs to stop worrying about Hash and make sure Ash doesn't grab the ropes to add more pressure to the knees.
GP: Ash isn't going to cheat.
JT: How do you know?
GP: If he was going to cheat he would have all ready done so.
JT: Yeah right he is just waiting for the right time.
Ash continues with the figure four while Hash screams in pain. Hash lets his shoulders touch the ground but as the referee comes down to make the count he sits back up.
GP: Even if Hash gets out of this who knows how bad of shape his knee will be in. Ash is doing just what he wants and that is to keep Hash in wrestling holds so he can't hit any of his hardcore moves.
Hash sits up and starts trying to reverse the hold but he fails after a few attempts he then swings and hits the referee.
JT: I can't believe Hash missed Ash and hit the referee.
GP: There is no way he was trying to hit Ash he just wanted to get out of the hold.
Ash breaks the figure four and looks down at the referee and checks on him to see if he is ok when he is nailed on the side of the head with a clothesline from Hash. Hash then picks up Ash and tosses him to the sand around the ring.
GP: What is Hash up to now?
JT: He is doing what you said he needed to do to win making this a hardcore style match. With no referee he is free to do whatever he wants to Ash.
Hash picks up Ash and rams his back into the ring post but he doesn't set him down he does it again and then he drops him onto the sand. Ash's body is covered in sand and he is on his hands and knees trying to get back to his feet as Hash yells out loud. Hash looks back into the ring to see that the referee is still out and he goes and finds him a chair.
GP: This is about to get very ugly if Hash lands a few chair shots.
JT: You act like you have never seen a chair being used as a weapon in a wrestling match before.
Hash walks over to Ash and he lifts the chair above his head and yells out loud again. Ash is on his knees looking up to Hash. Hash takes the chair back and he starts to swing but as he is swinging Ash tosses sand in Hash's eyes.
JT: That's cheating!
GP: Ladies and gentlemen I would like you all to meet a hypocrite.
Ash gets back to his feet and takes the chair and nails Hash in the head with it. Ash then swings the chair back again and connects with another shot to the head. Ash drops the chair into the sand and then takes Hash and DDT's him onto the chair.
GP: Hash is busted open. You can see the blood mixing in with the sand.
JT: Come on get up Hash.
Ash picks up Hash and tries to roll Hash into the ring but Hash gives Ash an elbow to the stomach and then slams Ash's head onto the side of the ring. Hash takes some of the blood from his face and wipes it onto Ash's head and then hits Ash multiple times in the head with his fist.
GP: Look in the ring the referee is starting to stir finally.
Hash rolls Ash back in the ring and he covers Ash. But the referee is slow to react but he finally makes it over to make the count
GP: NO!!!! Ash kicked out. Hash looks irate at the referee he thinks the referee reacted too slow.
JT: He did and he just screwed Hash.
GP: Its Hash's fault the referee got knocked out in the first place.
Hash picks up Ash and he sets him up for a suplex but Ash reverses into a small cradle catching Hash off guard. The referee goes down for the three count.
GP: No, is right Hash kicked out at the last possible second. That inside cradle caught Hash off guard.
Both men are back on their feet and Hash swings a right punch at Ash but he misses and Ash spins Hash around and rolls him up for another pinning attempt. The referee drops to the mat for the three count.
GP: That is it Ash Robinson has won this match up but look at the look on Hash's face. He is pissed.
Meygon: The winner of this match ASHHHHHH ROBINSONNNNNN!!!!!
Ash's music starts playing and he starts to celebrate as the referee raises his hand in the air. The crowd starts to cheer a little bit more when Hash hits Ash from behind with a chair. Hash hits Ash again and again with the chair the referee tries to stop Hash but Hash just pushes him away.
GP: This isn't right someone get out to stop this. He is going to injure Ash for life. Those shots to the back can do some serious damage.
JT: Hahahaha I love it.
Finally after a few more chair shots Hash tosses down the chair and heads to the back while some medics come out to attend to Ash.
Written by Julian-Charles Smith
Christopher Kingsley: Where the hell could he be?
He sighs after making this statement, clearly referring to the whereabouts of his client.
Taking out his cellular phone, Kingsley begins to dial with his plump face and finally puts the phone to his ear, hearing nothing but the dial tone.
Kingsley: C'mon Kory pick up.
The tone continues to ring through Christopher's ear.
Kingsley: Pick up the phone pick up the phone.
Christopher, obviously frustrated with Storm and his usual nonchalant attitude, wipes the sweat from his brow while listening to the ringing of a third and final dial tone.
Kingsley: God damn it Kory! Pick up your fucking
Suddenly, a voice speaks from behind Kingsley, interrupting his angry tirade.
Voice: Something wrong Christopher?
Kory Storm enters the building.
Kingsley turns around to look the man, a former IOW Heavyweight Champion of the World, whom he currently manages.
He stand there, in all of his glory, leaning coolly against the frame of the locker room's door.
Smiling widely and adjusting the Oakley sunglasses that dangle slightly below his eyes, Storm enters the room while Christopher Kingsley begins to lose all control.
Kingsley: And just where in the flying fuck have you been?!
Kory Storm: Around.
Kingsley begins to get red in the face.
Kingsley: Around?! Well you sure as hell haven't been around here!
Storm: Thank you Captain Obvious.
Kingsley: Go ahead Kory! Keep joking and taking things lightly! It'll only get you beaten in the ring tonight.
Kory chuckles at this statement.
Storm: Please Christopher! You do know who I'm wrestling tonight don't you?
Kingsley opens his mouth, no doubt looking to answer the question, but is interrupted by Storm once more.
Storm: Jamal Wilson! You may as well just raise my arm in victory now. That fairy can't beat me
A new voice now speaks, or maybe squeals, from behind Kory Storm.
Voice: Well Kory, I am hurt!
It is Jamal Wilson.
Wilson strutts into the room, his white teeth shimmering under the light's glow, and stands in front of his former, and perhaps current, nemesis.
Storm: Jamal! How nice it is to see you again!
Wilson gives Storm a confused look before answering.
Jamal Wilson: I'm just peachy Kory. And you?
Storm: I'm fine. Just excited about getting into the ring with you again tonight! It should be one hell of a contest.
Jamal lifts his arm and strokes Kory's bicep with his finger.
Wilson: Me too! It should be oodles of fun! That is as long as you don't ruin it by being the asshole that tried, keyword tried, to ruin my life in PIW.
Kory chuckles once more and punches Jamal Wilson lightly in his chest jokingly, prompting The Hardcore Homo to rub the area gently while Storm speaks once again.
Storm: Now who's hurt Jamal?
Wilson simply scowls at Storm, who seems to be making a valid, but unusual, attempt at being nice.
Storm: C'mon man! I've changed over the past few months! I traveled and took a break from the business. You know, to clear my head?
Wilson: Sure you did.
Storm: Honestly! I'm just looking to have fun now Jamal! Believe me!
Wilson: That'd be like asking me to kiss a girl. Speaking of which, how is your sister?
Jamal sniggers, referring to an incident in PIW where he kissed Kory Storm's sister, Renee' Rutherford, and consequently threw up all over her, and the Pinnacle of Insane Wrestling Massacre set.
Needless to say that Storm, at least then, wasn't pleased. Now, however, he simply grins and seems to shrug the memory of sliding in Wilson's puke after running down to the ring in an effort to protect his sister off.
Storm: She's fine, but this isn't about her. It's about me and you, in that ring tonight, having fun. That's what this is all about! Right?
Storm slaps Jamal's bicep, jumping up and down excitedly, as if the two were old friends rather then enemies.
Jamal looks at Storm cautiously, as if he were a fatal and non-curable disease.
Wilson: Um sure Kory, whatever you say.
Storm: Seriously bro! Let's just let bygones be bygones and have ourselves a friendly match tonight! Loser buys the winner dinner!
Wilson raises his hand to his chin, pondering Kory Storm's offer.
Wilson: You're on!
Jamal begins to jump up and down in a fit of excitement, just as his newfound friend Kory had done earlier.
Wilson: Fo' sho dirty!
Storm: Ok Jamal, if we're going to be friends, you have to promise never to do that again, at least when you're with me.
Wilson: Ok buddy! I pinky promise!
Wilson bubbles with happiness as he exclaims that last phrase, extending his pinky to Storm.
Storm, somewhat giddy, locks pinky fingers with Jamal while the African American phenomenon giggles.
Wilson: I can see it now Kory! We're going to be the best of friends! We can go to the park, and out for ice cream, and driving in my pink Volkswagen Beetle! It's the new convertible edition!
Storm smirks devilishly at his manager, who's looking on in shock, before speaking once more to his new pal.
Storm: I can't wait
Written by Aaron Smith
Ford : Hey, Hardcore!
The Hardcore God stops and whirls around. He is wearing his platinum trenchcoat over his customary black T-shirt and black jeans. A couple of his midgets are following him around, one carrying his kendo stick for the God.
H-God : Mortal, you will only address me as the Hardcore God or H-God. Understood?
Ford : Uh OK, as long as YOU address ME as Mr. Ford. Now is that understood?
H-God : What do you want, Ford?
Ford : Good enough, I guess. Look, I know you're pretty upset about the outcome of your match with HardCase last week, and might be planning some sort of retaliation
H-God : How very observant of you.
The God starts to turn away and resume walking, but Ford places a restraining hand on his shoulder. The God spins and jerks Ford's hand off of him.
H-God : You do NOT touch the God, mort- Ford.
The God smirks at the CEO, clearly conveying his lack of respect.
Ford : Look, H-God, I really don't give a damn if you have much respect for my authority or not, but as long as you're under contract for any of MY shows, you WILL listen to what I have to say. HardCase is in the World title tournament tonight, which means any attack on him that puts him out of action is going to screw up my brackets. I want you to lay off of him, at least for tonight.
H-God : Yes, He is sure that you do desire that, Ford. Rather pitiable that He does not give a damn about your tournament.
Ford : (Narrowing his eyes) Maybe not, but I think you DO give a damn about getting your hands on HardCase in a match. And you'll get that in August, as well as a World title shot if he's got the belt, if you just lay off him until then.
H-God : So, you expect the God to wait two months to exact his revenge on this miserable wretch?
Ford : Yes, I do expect you to, because if you don't you can say goodbye to your chances of ever meeting him in the ring again, as well as getting a title shot.
H-God : Very well. The God shall think over your proposal, Ford.
Ford : It's not a proposal. It's an order.
H-God : You are mistaken, Ford. The God is not ordered around by mortals.
With that, the Hardcore God pivots and marches away, midgets in tow, with Ford glaring after him. The CEO then turns, shaking his head, and continues in the direction he was going.
Donnie Daze vs. Deft
Written by Joe Schmidt and Matt Hawley
JT: Yeah! Sounds like a thriller! No sarcasm here!
GP: Well, for the rest of us, it'll probably be a good match. In Daze's last IWO match, he defeated ?¿? in a Mystery Death Match.
JT: Purely luck.
GP: We'll then... we'll see if Daze can be that lucky tonight.
"Ashes in the Fall" by Rage hits, and the crowd full of smarks cheer for the kid that gave Duel a run for his money on the recent Pressure Point. The masked luchadore Deft entered the ring, as the cheers died down. He looked out to the ocean, the waves crashing. The beauty struck him, as he stood in awe of the Atlantic Shore.
GP: And here comes Deft. He's a rising star from Action! Wrestling.
JT: Yeah. We seem to have a lot of Action! guys here tonight.
"Jet Black New Year" by Thursday plays, and Donnie Daze left the tent to the delight of the fans. He was trailed closely by Joey Legion, who picked up some sand from the side of the crimson carpet and tossed it out to the fans. Donnie slid in the ring, as Deft observed his opponent through the eye-slits of his mask. Some of the specators watching from afar could barely hear the music, but the reaction for Donnie Daze was like no other.
GP: Wow. Pretty good reception for Daze. The IWO fans seem to appreciate him.
JT: Sounds more like pity cheers. So he doesn't kill himself.
Daze and and Deft locked up. Both wanted to prove something tonight, but really, only one could be successful. Deft got the upperhand by hooking the neck in to a headlock. Daze forced his way out of it by pushing back to the ropes, then gathering the force to shove Deft to the opposite side. As Deft returned, Daze reached for a Hiptoss, only to have Deft block it. Deft hopped to the opposite side, then performed the same move that Donnie was wishing to perform.
GP: Nice move from Deft!
JT: Yeah. He seems to have taken Daze by surprise.
The impact kept Donnie on the mat. Deft looked to quickly drop and elbow on Daze, but he rolled out of the way. Both men got to their feet and paced around each other before locking up again. After a fierce struggle for control, Deft layed a knee in the midsection of Daze and got him in a headlock. After a moment of squeezing and wrenching on Daze's neck, he attempts a DDT, but Daze grabs his legs and begins to pick him up. He back body drops Deft and then leans over to the ropes to catch his breath.
GP: That was a nice display of power by Daze, being able to completely pick Deft up and throw him down.
JT: Well, Daze is bigger than him. He should be able to.
Deft gets to his feet and walks over to Daze. Daze realizes he is coming and elbows him in his chest before quickly turning around and paying into him with a left hook. Deft stumbled back a couple feet and Daze rushes at him and tackles him to the ground. Daze jumps down quickly and attempts to get into the full mount to lay in some more punches, but Deft is able to roll Daze off of him and quickly gets to his feet. As Daze gets up, Deft quickly runs him over with a clothesline. Daze gets to his feet again and Deft follows with another clothesline.
JT: I'm starting to like this Deft guy.
GP: Deft levels Daze twice with two vicious clotheslines!
As Donnie struggles to get up, Deft hits the mat and puts Daze into an arm bar. He begins to wrench on Daze's arm, as Donnie screams out in pain. He continues to do so as Donnie begins to stuggle to get his arm free. The referee goes down to ask if Donnie would like to give up, but he just ignores him. After a moment of kicking and swinging around, Deft frees Daze's arm. Daze grabs his arm and begins to hold it at the elbow. Deft grabs Daze by his short hair and pulls him to his feet. Daze is still holding his elbow as Deft grabs him and puts him in another headlock. But this time he hooks his arm and hits a textbook vertical suplex.
GP: Deft isn't giving up control of this match.
Deft sits up from the suplex and waits a minute before turning to Daze, who was pushing himself to his feet. He pulls Daze up once again and whips to him to the ropes. Daze grabs the ropes and waits. Deft rushes at him but Daze ducks and flips him over the top rope. Deft lands on the apron and grabs Daze's head. He drops to the floor hitting a guillotine on Daze which sends him flying backwards to the canvas.
GP: Whoa! The lucha-skills of Deft are highly visible! He performed a perfect sling-shot with Donnie's neck as the anchor!
Deft quickly slid in the ring as Donnie was now pushing to his feet. Donnie saw him coming out from the corner of his eye, and as he approached with open arms for another move of the offense, Donnie counteracted with his boot, then a quick DDT. The fans in attendance cheered, but the thunder over head deafened that out. Both Deft and Daze, climbing to their feet, looked at the sky, then back at each other.
GP: Well, instead of taking advantage of his current lead, it seems like Donnie Daze decided to check the weather.
JT: Flower smelling pansy ass piece of cunt!
JT *hangs up cell phone* Sorry, talking to my dad. What'd I miss?
Deft and Donnie Daze lock up again, with Daze getting the upper hand and putting Deft in the head lock. Daze took the young Edward Estrada to the ropes with an Irish Whip, and as he returned motioned for a clothesline, only to have it be ducked. Deft returned again and hooked Donnie's neck with a swinging Neckbreaker.
Donnie rolled to his stomach and tried to push himself to his feet, but as he was mounted to his knees, Deft burst at him with full speed and sent his leg crashing to the back of his neck. The move made quick for a pin.
What are you thinking? Donnie kicked out right after the two was hit, and quickly burst to his feet. As he tried to catch a breather, leaning against the ropes, the offense of Deft was quick to go as he was pushed against the ropes to receive a series of chops. With each crash, the fans gave out the ceremonial 'Whoo' sound, which only pissed Deft off. Deft tried to end off with a Chin-Breaker, but Daze broke the hold of Deft's arms then Head-butted him.
JT: HAH! What an idiot! It probably hurt Donnie more than Deft.
Donnie Daze hooked his neck and fell backwards with a Flatliner. With the impact, Deft bounced and spun to his back. As Daze crawled over to his opponent, he didn't go for the obvious pin. Rather, he put Deft in a chokehold to soften him up. The move was broken by the ref at the five second count, as Joey Legion turned the ref to argue the decision.
GP: Well, it looks like Legion is going to work his managering magic as always.
JT: I hate that pig-nosed faggot.
Daze lifted Deft to his feet, then sent him flying with an Irish Whip. Upon his arrival, Daze set up for the Tilt-A-Whirl Backbreaker, and delivered just that. Instead of letting Deft roll off his knee, Daze applied pressure to his neck as the ref dropped again to administer the five.
JT: YEAH! HE'S CHOKING HIM! GIVE HIM THE CHAIR!
Deft forced his way to his feet, where Daze waited for him. A missed Super-Kick later (Ten Minutes to Downtown), Deft hooked around Daze and anchored his neck. The Reverse Brainbuster, or to the smarks, the New-Age Estradaplex. Covering after the move was smart thinking... and he didn't. He lifted Donnie to his feet, then snapped him back over.
GP: Text-book Snap Suplex. At this point in the match, it is easy to find Deft's point of focus.
And now the pin came. But it only reached the two, as Donnie kicked out. Both were now at their feet, as Daze confronted Deft with intensity. Letting his anger get the best of him, Daze took a hard swing that was dodged, and found himself locked in the arms with Deft, then flying overhead. The Belly-to-Belly Suplex caused Donnie to land right on his neck. Deft crawled to the ring-ropes, adjusting his mask as he pulled to his feet. Donnie Daze was quick to get up as well, realizing his need to relax. The two faced each other, smiled, then went back at it.
GP: A sign of respect amongst the two.
Deft put Daze in a head-lock, but Daze reversed the hold by whipping Deft to the ropes. Daze dropped down for a Flap-jack, but Deft saw it coming and leaped over the hunched Daze. As he returned, he hooked his legs across Donnie's neck and swung over, catching his neck in mid-swing for a DDT.
JT: What... the... hell...
GP: Wow! A Head-Siscors DDT!
JT: Now what's he doing?
GP: Possibly going for an early finish, that's the Estrada Lock!
With Donnie Daze on his stomach, Deft locked their shins together, then took his left arm behind his back and locked the two. Deft rolled over, arching Donnie Daze's back over his own body as he pushed out with his legs. To put more hurt on, and affect the point of focus for this match, Deft hooked his neck with his forearm.
Donnie Daze had no where to go.
That is, until...
GP: What the hell?!
JT: AWWW!!! I'M MELTING!
Some of the fans cowered, as did the referee, as water-balloons became crashing from the sky. One broke the hold of the Estrada Lock as it came crashing down by Deft's body, the cold water causing him to shiver and shake. The referee, meanwhile, rang the bell in a disqualification, due to outside interference.
He let go of Daze and jumped to his feet. Donnie began to do the same, but quickly bolted up when another hit him. The balloons were obviously filled by ice water, and it became apparent as he scanned the beach for prospects.
Then, with two friends hoisting the Sling-Shot-Catapult, there was Hurley Cambria. Donnie clenched his fist, then exited the ring through the crowd, chasing after his bitter rival. Deft left the ring as well, as many of the fans began to return to the ring.
JT: What a great joke!
GP: He ruined the match!
JT: A CRAPPY match. C'mon, Greggory, a Spades a Spade.
Hurley took of running as he saw that he was now being persued, as the fans began to pass around the beach-ball to cheers, hoping Daze would get back at the ever-annoying Hurley Cambria for ruining a possible great match.
Written by Doug
Darting nearabout 75 yards pantless through the hospital parking lot, the mysterious pillager was caught up by hospital security patroling the grounds on mopeds. Tackled to the ground by Officer Bud Pickett, Dolby was foaming at the mouth like lather in a Herbal Essences commercial and was said to have had a formable erection upon the arrest. Forcefully jabbed with nightsticks until beaten into submission, Dolby was quoted by Pickett as yelling something along the lines of "THIS WHOLE COUNTRY IS ONE BIG FASCIST BEAR AND YOU HITLER LOVERS ARE NO DIFFERENT!". While subdued on the cement, Dolby was injected with tranquilizers to come his meandering display of unorthodoxy. Dragged into the hospital lobby as curious on-lookers watched in horror and bemusement, Dolby was heard muttering lingo of the Tibetan freedom movement.
Hospital security had no choice but to interrogate the strange individual by a psychologist on staff at the hospital. The room was of a sickening white, as pale as Dolby's skin, though the off-blue bags under Dolby's eyes signified his own insomnia to go with the horrible grimace expressed in his tired, wallowed eyes.
Dolby sat gazing vacantly at an empty hard wooden desk, it's polished surface could reflect Dolby's torn image. The only light in his eyes currently was that of a small piece of grass that gotten caught in Dolby's hair as he was dragged into the hospital. Dolby studied the grass, a symbol of the simple old days of rolling around in it in the Pennsylvanian hills. He stickered at such small symbolism this blade of grass, scratched his straggly pricks of facial hair, and flicked the grass into the air.
It was a relief not to be pumping rounds of bullets into a foreign army in a place unknown and so extraneous to him. The current of the sand was still with him though, just as you feel the rhythm of the ocean while you lay in bed after a day of surfing. Level ground was what he desired but the further he got away from the sand dunes and the urban Middle Eastern townships, the more he felt sick, purposeless and lost.
A woman dressed in white lab coat and black khakis entered the room casually. Her circular glasses reminded him that this young psychologist had stunning resemblance to Jean Grey of the X-Men movies. This was a ten steps up from the completely clothed Arab women of the Islamic world.
Young Psychologist: My name is Dr. Ana Landru.
Dolby couldn't bare looking her in the eyes in with appearance and the act he had pulled just minutes previously.
Dr. Landru: They tell me you served in Iraq during the conflict? Back so soon?
Dolby: According to the assholes in charge, the war is over. I see differently.
Dr. Landru: I turn on Fox News and I see statues of Saddam being dragged through the streets of Baghdad...that's not liberation?
Dolby: For someone with a PHD, you're coming off as highly naive.
Ana took that shot to her character as what she saw it as: an irrational comment by an irrational person.
Dr. Landru: Private Jenk....
Dolby: Don't address me as a brute again. The moment I stepped off that ship, I shedded my uniform for good. My name is Dolby.
Dr. Landru: Your name is Alexander Jenkins, Dolby was your military name from your war buddies.
Dolby: How did you know that?!
Dr. Landru: Mr. Jenkins, I know a lot more than you than you know about yourself.
Dolby is frightened. He makes paranoid. Was she one of THEM? He steps back from his chair, gripping the corner of the wall. No escape. Attack? No too animalistic. She can't be...she's just a shrink. Shrinks try to get inside of you. Stop panicing, you freak.
Dr. Landru: DOLBY! PLEASE! I'M NOT TRYING TO GET INSIDE OF YOUR HEAD...
Dolby crouches into a ball, twitching rhythmically, though her voice was soothing.
Dr. Landru: I'm trying to help you.
Ana Landru gets out of her chair, removes her glasses and leans down to Dolby's level.
Dr. Landru: You left Iraq for a reason, you came home at the first chance possible. While the others stayed to quell the remaining resistance, you fled at your first chance. Was it home sickness? Do you have a loved one at home? What made you leave the was behind you?
Dolby scratches his eyes, quivered in shock but enable to let his pain out through tears. Flashbacks randomly shooting into his celebrum. The hangings, the torture, the slaughter. Blood, pestilence, the most barbaric sightings ever to plague a person's mind. Dolby couldn't speak, he fall to the ground and and ripped threads of hair out of his scalp. Looking up at the near perfect figure of Dr. Landru, Dolby let out a whisper...
Cut to the still image of Matt Damon again. This time, it's a picture of him and Ben Affleck cuddling on the couch together.
Written by Aaron Smith
H-God : One moment, mortal. The God has not come to fight you, or you would already be on the ground.
HardCase warily backs up a couple steps, but still looks ready to fight. He glares at both the Hardcore God and the midget with the kendo stick standing behind him.
H-God : The God WAS going to attack you tonight, and return your beating on Him from last month tenfold, until that greatest of all mortals, Mr. Thomas Ford instructed the God not to lay a hand on you tonight. If the God does so, He will receive a match with you after the World title tournament, which will be a title shot if you so happen to win.
HardCase : Good for you. So why don't you go wait until then to get your ass beat down again?
The God flashes a tight-lipped smile.
H-God : Very well. But first, He would just like to wish you the best of luck tonight. After all, if you do win the title, it will be the God who will be taking the belt from you.
HardCase : (Smiling back) You can't win a title by getting your ass kicked.
H-God : And He doesn't intend to. In fact, He doesn't really intend to win your meaningless title at all. You see, the God has always been one for immediate gratification.
As soon as the God finishes that sentence, a midget dives from off camera and low blows HardCase from behind. H-God takes his kendo stick from his other midget and brings it down across HardCase's head, hard enough to snap it with one blow. The wrestler of course collapses, but immediately struggles up to his hands and knees. The God takes this opportunity to stand over HardCase and wrap the half of the stick that he's still holding around his enemy's neck. The God pulls back with all his force, choking the breath out of HardCase's throat. The midgets continue to stomp and kick HardCase while he's in this situation. Within a few moments, though, several nearby wrestlers intervene and pull the Hardcore God off of the other wrestler. The God shrugs out of their grip and backs off.
H-God : OFF OF HIM! You do not TOUCH the God, mortals! You do not touch Him!
The God rushes forward again to attack HardCase, but is held back. He spits on the recovering HardCase, before spinning on his foot and striding away.
Kory Storm vs. Jamal Wilson
Written by Jordan Sowunmi (JoSo) and Julian-Charles Smith (JCS)
JT: What?! Sick. I don't want to see hardcore homosexual sex in the ring, that's just wrong.
GP: Believe or not the "Homo" in Jamal's nickname, "Hardcore Homo", stands for Homo sapiens, which according to my Webster's Dictionary means quote "The modern species of humans, the only extant species of the primate family Hominidae."
JT: Yeah, sure. *rolls eyes*
The camera focuses in on the right where Chris Astro is standing with his microphone in hand waiting for the somewhat rowdy crowd to settle down. When they quiet down, he begins.
Chris Astro: Ladies and gentlemen the following match is scheduled for one fall and has a 30 minute time limit. INTRODUCING FIRST, hailing from the MEAN streets of San Francisco, California and weighing in tonight at a stunning 225 pounds, please give a warm welcome to the "Hardcore Homo" JAMAL WILSON!
"It's Raining Men" by the Weather Girls plays over the PA system to a decent pop from the crowd as the former PIW United States heavyweight champion steps through the curtains wearing pink wrestling tights with the word "Pride" across the crotch and a rainbow on the back. He wore a tight pink belly shirt that had the words "What Would Jamal Do?" on it.
Jamal touches hands with a few fans before sliding into the ring and spinning around in circles waiting for the arrival of his once arch-nemesis, Kory Storm.
JT: I would never let that guy touch my kids
Chris Astro: And his opponent, hailing from San Diego, California, and weighing in tonight at 276 pounds, he is the FORMER IOW World Heavyweight Champion, ladies and gentlemen, "PERFECTION PERSONIFIED" KORY STORM!
JUMP DA FUCK UP!
Kory Storm walks down towards the ring with "Jump Da Fuck Up" by Soulfly playing over the poorly set up sound system. A few of the fans heckle the former IOW World Champion, but Kory ignores them, a smile on his face as he climbs up on the apron and through the ropes.
MOTHERFUCKER YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! ALL MY HATE!
GP: For a bitter man he surely looks happy.
JT: Didn't you see what happened earlier? Kory's a changed man since the closure of IOW. Did you know he's signed to debut for Paul Levine's WWC promotion? He was one of their first big signings.
GP: Hey, JT, wipe your mouth.
GP: There's ass on your lips.
JT: OH! That was a good one.
The bell rings as Kory Storm and Jamal Wilson walk to the center of the ring and slap hands to a pop from the fans in attendance.
GP: Good show of sportsmanship there. These two have quite the history with Jamal, who professes his heterosexuality, attempting to prove it on PIW Massacre a while back by kissing a random fan. After kissing the fan, he vomited on her and believe it or not, the fan happened to be fWo Survivor III runner up, and Kory Storm's younger sister, Renee Rutherford.
JT: Fo' shizzle!
GP: . Don't ever say that again.
The two men lock up in the ring with Kory immediately taking the advantage by backing the smaller Jamal into the corner. Junior referee Tom Renner asks for a clean break but Kory fires off two stiff right hands into the face of Jamal Wilson.
GP: It doesn't look like the good sportsmanship is going to stick around.
JT: What are you talking about? Just because you take some clean, open shots at somebody doesn't mean you're a cheater.
GP: Tom Renner asked for a CLEAN break, Kory didn't give one.
Kory grabs Jamal by his wrist an Irish whips him into the opposite corner, following up quickly with a clothesline to the throat that drops Jamal into the bottom of the corner. Kory picks Jamal up by his head before rearing back and chopping the living daylights out of him.
Kory smiles at the reaction before again chopping Jamal across the chest.
Kory backs out of the corner into the middle of the ring before raising his arms in the air in celebration before running into the corner and attempting to hit a spinning heel kick, Jamal moves out of the way a split second before feeling the kick, sending Storm into the corner back and leg first.
GP: Good reaction time by Jamal there.
Jamal waits in the center of the ring as Kory shakes the crimps out of the back of his neck. Kory walks to the center of the ring to meet Jamal again and they lock up for a second time in the match.
GP: It's like they're at square one again.
JT: But it's been shown already that Kory Storm decidedly has the advantage over Jamal in terms of talent by his first few moves.
GP: Don't try and act like you know what you're talking about.
JT: *Sob* Okay! OKAY!
Kory immediately locks Jamal in a wrist lock. Jamal attempts to reverse it, but when he can't he drops to the mat and rolls through it, putting Kory in a wrist lock of his own. Kory yelps in pain as Jamal turns the wrist lock into a hammerlock as he's behind "Perfection Personified."
GP: Not only is Jamal Wilson a hardcore hero amongst some of his most loyal followers, but he's quite the tactician.
JT: Oh yeah? Well, Kory's 1000000 times richer than ANYONE watching this broadcast right now.
GP: What if Bill Gates was to be watching this right now?
JT: Err.. Um how 'bout that weather?
Kory desperately reaches for a reversal of the hammerlock by trying to trip Jamal up between his legs, Jamal thwarts the effort by moving out of the way as Kory tries to grab him. Finding no other way out, Kory back elbows Jamal twice in the face, but Jamal doesn't break the hold. Kory grabs Jamal with his free arm in the snap mare position and brings him up and over with a quick snap mare.
JT: THAT'S a true technician. That was a great counter.
Jamal slides as a result of the snap mare to the other side of the ring before jolting to his quickly again. Kory walks over and locks Jamal in a side headlock for a few seconds before Jamal forces him off by shoving him towards the ropes, on the rebound Kory takes Jamal down with a shoulder block. Jamal quickly flops over onto his stomach as Kory bounces off the ropes and jumps over him. As Kory comes off the rebound, Jamal hops to his feet and leaps over him with a leapfrog. Off the bounce back from the opposite ropes Jamal sidesteps Kory and uses his momentum against him by throwing him through the middle ropes and to the outside of the ring.
GP: Good, fast paced action here in IWO. These two guys don't have to be here in front of these fans, they've wrestled in crowds at least 10 times larger than this, but they do it for the love of the sport.
JT: Please stop with all your "Wrestling is holy" garbage and LOOK at the cheating Jamal just did. He THREW Kory through those ropes and onto the floor, what if he hit is head?!
GP: Whoa, looks like Jamal's planning something here.
Jamal Wilson stands by the ropes, looking through them and awaiting for Kory to get to his feet. When he sees that Kory's getting towards his feet Jamal bounces off the ropes and dives over the top onto Kory with a somersault senton.
GP: INCREDIBLE! He's got the fans going crazy!
The crowd cheers as both men are sprawled out on the ringside floor. Jamal is the first to get to his feet and rolls himself into the ring. Kory soon does the same. As soon as he enters the ring, Jamal picks Kory up by his hair and backs him into the corner. Jamal grabs Kory by the wrist and Irish whips him into the opposing corner. Jamal runs at Kory in an attempt to hit him with a turnbuckle splash but Kory ducks under it and back drops Jamal up and over to the side of the ring apron. Kory swings at Jamal but Jamal blocks it and fires at Kory with a right hand of his own. As Kory stumbles toward the middle of the ring holding his mouth, Jamal springboards onto the top rope and shoots off looking for a hurricanrana. Kory catches Jamal in midair and plants him with a sit-down power bomb.
GP: GREAT MOVE! 1! 2! KICKOUT!
JT: That was close! Kory almost defeated Jamal with that power bomb after showing that HE was totally ready for the hurricanrana.
Kory glares at Renner before picking Jamal up. Kory turns Jamal around so his chest is rested on the ropes before grabbing him in a waist lock and moving back near the middle of the ring. Kory looks around at the crowd before snapping Jamal up and over with a sick release German suplex.
Wilson's back connects brutally with the canvas, prompting the majority of the crowd to stand up, take notice, and whisper to themselves and their counterparts in awe.
Storm screams loudly.
KS: ONE MORE TIME! FOR OLD TIMES SAKE!
JT: It looks like Kory is going to try and decimate Wilson further by hitting him with yet another release German suplex!
GP: This can only spell trouble for everyone's favorite Hardcore Homo.
Storm picks up a seemingly lifeless Jamal Wilson and places his massive hands around Jamal's purple-clad hips. Trying desperately to perform the maneuver, Storm lifts Wilson in the air slightly, but is forced to drop him following a series of elbows from Jamal smacking him directly in the head.
Wilson throws a few more elbows Storm's way before finally getting Perfection Personified to release his grip. Now dazed, Storm stumbles and tries to remain standing while Wilson, a wide smile on his face once more, charges against the ropes and bounces back at Storm, forcing the WWC Superstar to the mat with an excellently executed bulldog.
JT: Woof! Woof! Can you hear it GP? Woof! That's the sound of the bulldog!
GP: Never EVER do that again!
JT: Woof! What now biatch?!
The sound of GP's hand slapping against JT's fleshy face creates a sickening thud.
Rubbing his face, JT mutters under his breath.
JT: stupid motherfucking son of a bitch
GP: What was that?
JT: Oh nothing. I was just telling the people at home how I've got an itch.
GP: Sure you were. Let's just get back to the action shall we?
JT: Sounds like a plan.
Meanwhile, Wilson goes for the cover while an obviously hurt Storm tries to remain breathing while under Jamal's sweaty, black body.
JT: ONE! TWO! NO, STORM KICKS OUT!
Storm tosses Wilson off of him in an intense showing of strength before crawling over to the ropes and pulling himself up, revealing to the New Jersey crowd a bloody nose that could very well be broken.
GP: Kory Storm looks like he's in a bad way. That nose should be looked at as soon as this match is through.
Storm slowly but surely regains his breath and looks as if he's ready to compete once more, but continues to bleed while Jamal Wilson struggles to stand as well.
Walking over to Wilson, Storm wears an overly confident look on his face, no doubt wanting to put this match away. However, out of nowhere, Jamal Wilson shocks Kory Storm and the crowd by planting the former IOW Heavyweight Champion with a dropkick.
Storm flies backward into the ropes and bounces off of them gracefully, coming right back at an astonished Jamal with a hard clothesline.
JT: That clothesline looked like it came from the depths of hell!
GP: Wouldn't that make it a Clothesline from Hell then?
JT: No, that would be copyright infringement.
Storm turns his back to Jamal Wilson, who looks pretty much out cold laying there against the hard canvas, and poses for the crowd that despises him.
He raises both of his arms high in the air and quickly brings them down again, signifying one thing and one thing only.
GP & JT: CALM BEFORE THE STORM!
GP: Kory wants to put Wilson away for good this time around.
Suddenly, in an incredible twist of fate, the announcers continue talking and seem to miss the fact that Kory's moments of posing and primping have been ended by a roll-up from behind by Jamal Wilson!
Junior Referee Tom Renner begins to count.
He pounds the mat firmly with his hand.
He repeats the action once more!
JT: NO WAY CAN THIS BE HAPPENING!
GP: OH IT CAN! AND IT IS!
Renner slams the canvas again with his hand, ending the match and putting a nail in Kory Storm's proverbial coffin.
It's Raining Men by the Weather Girls kicks into the loudspeakers once more as Wilson gets up and begins to celebrate his victory.
JT: Wilson has done it! He capitalized on Kory's lack of concentration and beat the odds!
GP: Speaking of Kory, where did he go?
Kory Storm, as already pointed out by the announcer, had disappeared.
Wilson, obviously wondering the same thing as GP, turns around in an effort to look for his buddy.
JT: OH NO! Jamal! Look behind you!
Jamal Wilson turns around once more after not finding Storm on the side he was originally looking at, walking directly into a steel chair wielded by none other then Kory Storm himself.
Kory cackles devilishly as the steel slams firmly against Wilson's head, allowing the superstar to fall to the mat before continuing his attack.
JT: That lying rat! He was never Jamal's friend! He tricked Wilson and the fans! What a disgusting excuse for a human being!
GP: He's just exhibiting strategy dummy! That's something you need to do if you want to get ahead in wrestling! It's a cutthroat business, you and I both know that.
Storm lifts the chair symbolically and slams it in Jamal's direction again, this time at the fallen wrestler's back, before throwing it to the canvas and spitting on Jamal Wilson's broken body.
JT: That's just sick.
GP: Yeah, but hopefully Storm isn't. It's bad enough that Jamal will have to wake up sore tomorrow, but it would REALLY suck if he got Storm's cold or flu as well.
Jump Da Fuck Up by Soulfly replaces Jamal Wilson's music, It's Raining Men, as Storm makes his way up the ramp once more.
He steps through the curtain smirking, knowing full well that he had lost the battle, but had continued the war.
Written by Doug
Dolby: MR. FORD! MR. FORD?!
Dolby shakes Ford until he awakes in an utter state of confusion...
Tom Ford: AHHH! AHHH! BUYRATES! BUYRATES! TIDAL WAVE APPROACHING! WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!
Dolby: I'm Dolby Jenkins, we met at the hospital when you were visiting Schitzo Tod...I was the guy that humped him.
Tom Ford: Oh right, the ass kicking machine I hired impulsively?
Tom Ford: Yeah, I saw the hospital security beat the living hell out of you and you didn't even flinch. Glad to have you on board, kid. Sorry about your experiences in Iraq. I was almost drafted myself...yeah...back in the...
Dolby: Mr. Ford, Tod threw sand in my eyes. :(
Tom Ford: But you're a killing machine. A little sand won't hurt you.
Dolby: It hurts. :(
Tom Ford: Stand still. Lemme try to fish it on. Open your eye reaaaal wide.
Tom begins to open Dolby's eye lid and poke around...
Dolby: AHHHH! AHHH! THE SANDSTORM MEMORIES! ALL COMING BACK TO ME! AHHHH! I'M BACK IN IRAQ, MAJOR THOMAS FORD! READY FOR DUTY! HOO-AH!
Dolby begins to shake erratically, grabs the bottle of tylenol that was resting on Ford's stomach and begins to shove the entire bottle of pills down his throat.
Dolby: NEED SOMETHING TO RINSE MY MOUTH WITH. SALTY BEACH WATER, DOLBY'S COMING!
Tom looks on as Dolby Jenkins, whom he has regretabley hired, runs down the beach with flippers and swimmies attached to his arms. He trips and falls a couple of times on the way, as the scene fades to black.
Markus King vs. HardCase
Written by Errol
The sweet melodic voice of Mariah Carey oozes out of the PA speakers as Boy begins to start up, playing out current LIWA'er and IWO newcomer Markus King to the ring.
JT: Mariah Carey for a theme song? Jesus Christ. I think I'm gonna be sick.
GP: *dancing and singing along hideously off key in his seat* Boy...oh boy...boy...ooooh boy!....
JT: Correction. I am going to be sick.
JT turns to the side to wretch his lunch over the crowd railing to the dismay of the fans seated in the front row, as Bad News by 50 cent starts up.
The fans begin to boo at the very sound, even before HardCase parts the curtains and begins his slowly haughty saunter down to the ring, soaking up the negative reaction.
GP: Oh bo-...hey who cut off the music? *turns to JT* Hey, you don't look to well.
JT: *wipes vomit from his lips* Gee...ya think?
HardCase slides into the ring, and slumps himself in the nearby corner, watching as his opponent stretches and tests the ropes. The ref beckons both men to center ring, he gives them a brief instruction, and checks HardCase for any foreign objects.
Then checks King for any foreign objects.
Then checks HardCase again.
...then gives HardCase a once over making sure he didn't miss anything.
JT: Oh com'on!! That's blatant racial profiling going on in that ring. YOU CRACKA DEVIL BASTARDS!!
GP: There's a difference between profiling and being absolutely positive no one ends up with a shank in their neck.
JT: Oh please. You go utterly insane, reside the rest of your life in a demented dimension in your mind, and suddenly your dangerous.
Refusing to dignify JT's last statement with any sort of response, Greg remains quiet as the ref calls for the bell.
HardCase and King circle each other, before Markus King extends his hand for a handshake.
GP: What a great show of sportsmanship by Markus King.
JT: Give me a break. No way HardCase is falling for that. That's the oldest trick in the book.
HardCase goes to slap King's seemingly harmless hand away, but King snatches HC's hand and HardCase soon finds himself come to a thud on the canvas courtesy a snap armdrag by Markus King.
GP: Wow that was blinding speed.
JT: That little deceitful bastard!
King goes right into an armbar, but HardCase wriggles free and kips up to his feet. HardCase backs away from Markus King eyeing him warily. King approaches HardCase, and lunges at him for a lock up. HardCase ducks, grabs King by the back of the head as he goes past and slams him face first into the mat.
HardCase then goes to lift up Markus King by the waist, but King wrestles out of it, and after a series of expertly executed movements, has HardCase in a hammerlock.
GP: King is defiantly showing of his technical prowess already in this match. I don't think HardCase will be able to keep up with him at this pace.
HardCase tries to wrestle his way out of King's grasp, but this only prompts Markus King to wrench the hold even tighter. HardCase grimaces in pain as Markus King snakes his free arm under HardCase's armpit and behind HC's neck. He falls back to the mat, bringing HardCase down with him, and wraps his legs around HardCase's waist, in a half-nelson, hammerlock submission type move.
JT: Geez, what the hell is that?
GP: It's the end of HardCase in this tournament if he doesn't find a way to get out of his hold.
HardCase struggles, but King isn't letting up. HardCase inches his way toward the ropes, and slowly but surely makes it. King, seeing HardCase is centimeters away from salvation, lets up the hold and pulls him to his feet.
HardCase goes to grab him, but King out grapples him, and end up holding him in a side waistlock. King dumps HardCase over in side suplex. King drops a leg across HC's throat, then covers.
Kick out by HardCase.
GP: I wasn't so sure HardCase would be able to kick out of that.
JT: Whatever. HardCase's isn't gonna get played by some clown like King.
GP: Incase you haven't been paying attention. That <i>clown</i> has dominated the match so far. HardCase has yet to produce an offensive attack.
JT: Oh when HardCase attacks you better believe it'll be PLENTY offensive.
GP: ...What does that even mean.
JT: Oh...it...uhm...it means...something.
JT continues to look at Greg confidently as if he has the slightest idea of what he's talking about, while in the ring King has HardCase up and irish whips him into the ropes. HC comes bouncing back at him arm outstretched for a clothesline, but King takes him down with a drop-toe-hold.
From the drop-toe-hold King locks in a STF, but he was too close to the ropes and HardCase is able to get a rope break.
Markus King relinquishes the hold, but grabs HardCase's foot and drags him to center ring. Markus King picks up the other leg and before HardCase even knows what's happening he's on his belly wincing in pain from a tightly locked sharpshooter.
GP: Ok. Game over. No way is HardCase getting out of this one.
JT: That's not true! He could <i>easily</i> get out of the pussy move.
GP: Really? King has already showed his in expertise in ground work, he's man handled HardCase so far in this match, and he's just locked in one of his favorite moves on what must be an exhausted HardCase dead in the middle of the ring, out of reach of the ropes.
JT: ....Ok, maybe not easily, but he'll get out.
GP: I've always wanted to know this. Are ALL heel announcers this retarded?
JT: Short answer: yes. They fed us led paint at job oreintation.
GP: *eyes widening in epiphiny* Yes!! It all makes sense now!! YES!!!!
HardCase is straining and struggling, but King isn't giving an inch. HardCase is relentless however, and trashes about in what limited range of movement King is giving up; which isn't much at all.
HardCase looks to be in a dire condition now, and his struggles have softened considerably. The ref drops down to the mat, and asks HardCase if he would like to submit.
HardCase answers him back.
In sign language.
The one finger kind.
GP: HardCase really should just give him now. There's no conceivable way for him to escape this hold.
The fans begin to cheer King on, as HardCase is drained of life drip by drip. Until HardCase lays completely dormant.
GP: Well its over for HardCase now, but I gotta give it up to him. He put up a valiant effort.
JT: Goddammit. Why do I always have to cheer for the losers.
The ref goes to confirm HardCase has passed out. He lifts up his arm. It drops lifelessly to the canvas. The fans cheer in unision.
The ref lifts the limp arm once more. And once more it drops
The ref goes to lift it again, but meets resistance lifting it up. HardCase's arms flex in an expected ripple of tendon and muscle, HardCase's head pops up flashing a sinister grin, and his he pushes himself up with what strength he has left.
GP: Wha-WHAT THE HELL!!
King was caught off-guard and was jostled by HardCase's unexpected resurgence of life. He let the sharpshooter loosen a little bit, and scrambles to tighten it up harder than before.
It was too late however, as HardCase successfully pushed his upper body up off the mat, and rolled under his legs, still in King's hands, so now he was on his back facing Markus King.
King goes tot turn up back over, but HardCase kicks him off of him. King lets go, and HardCase pulls himself up to his feet.
GP: MY GOD!! WHAT THE HELL!!
JT: I TOLD YOU HE'D FIND A WAY!!
King sensing HardCase might be getting back into the match and wanting to put an end to that immediately, charges him and goes for a spinning heel kick...
GP: The Markuskick!!
Which HardCase ducks, and sneaks a low blow to King's exposed gonads before the ref could see.
GP: Aw man! Is the ref blind!!
JT: No. HardCase is just quick like that.
King is bent over in obvious pain. HardCase takes advantage of his vulnerability. Putting him in a double underhook, and lifts him off the mat and...
JT: TIGER DRIVER!!
King is driven neck first into the canvas by HardCase. HC makes a quick cover.
King gets a shoulder up before the third count.
HardCase goes to lift King, but as he did earlier in the match Markus King seems to swim easily out of HardCase's grasp, and ends up having him in a hammerlock.
HardCase however plants a stiff elbow into King's neck.
King lets go of the hold.
JT: Ha! He's not falling for that twice.
King reflexively grabs it his sore neck, turned tender and painful by a tiger diver and elbow shot both by HardCase. HardCase again flashes a cocky smirk, as he rears back with his right hand and...
HardCase lands a devastating right hand to the bridge of King's nose causing it to erupt in a spray of crimson. King himself lays on the mat presumably unconscious.
JT: HardCase has this one wrapped up.
HardCase agrees, and drops to the mat which is rapidly socking up blood, and pins.
GP: No!! King has a shoulder up!! He's not done yet.
HardCase rips King up to his feet, and goes for a DDT, but King is able to reverse it into a Northern Lights Suplex, arching his back for the bridge and the pin.
HardCase shoulders out of the move, Kind is right on him however, and grapples him going for a suplex, HardCase blocks the suplex attempt and uses his 20 pound strength advantage over King to lift him into the air vertically.
HardCase lets Markus King hang upside down briefly, before bringing him down with a reverse suplex sending him gut first into the turnbuckle. Markus King hung on the top of the corner hanging down. HardCase drops him back to the mat, with a rough tug on his tights.
HardCase then raises King up by the sides of the head.
GP: Oh no.
JT: Hehe!! Abortion time!!
HardCase slams knee after knee into the face of Markus King, until he feels King's body slump, and he lets go letting him crumples to the mat, knocked out from the Retro-Active Abortion.
HardCase obviously covers.
Chris Astro: Your winner, via pinfall, HARDCASE!!
GP: Well, somehow HardCase managed to turn things around and end up with a victory here.
JT: Was there ever any doubt?
GP: Weren't you complaining about always cheering for the loser just a while ago JT?
JT: Oh...I was being sarcastic.
While everyone ponders the idiocy of that statement, King groggily rises to his feet, and HardCase exits the ring, and awaits the next round.
Written by Ford
Meygon moans in pleasure, slipping off from the IWO's show for what can only be construed as a quickie. He presses his body against hers, and she lets out just a little more of a moan, before attempting to take his coat off.
He immediately wrenches his hand away, a slight burn scar visable to Meygon and the camera that has caught their session. Meygon covers herself instinctively, as the main in the trenchcoat slowly steps away, and then turns around and runs.
Meygon lowers her head, rebuttoning her top as she tries to work through what just happened.
Meygon: Why does this always happen to me?
Meygon shook her head from side to side, and kicked of clump of sand in the air. With the wind blowing toward her, the sand flies back and lands all over her body. She sighes, and returns back to the IWO ringside, ready to call matches once more.
Keith Scott Zimmerman vs. Greg Allocca
Written by Butch
JT: Time to bow before the Lord of the Internet!
Greg Parker: Erm, whatever. This stems from our last show, when KSZ made a surprise debut at the end of our May show by chairing Trey Vincent and his opponent tonight in Greg Alloca.
JT: And now KSZ's going to beat him down AGAIN! Gotta love endorsed beatdowns on the blind.
Astro: The following is a finals qualifier in the World Title tournament! One fall to a finish, with no time limit. Introducing FIRST, accompanied to the ring by Axel Jones, from Queens, New York at 6'1" and 187 pounds, GREG! ALLOCA!
"Slaughter of the Soul" plays. Jones comes out and briefly waves to the crowd before Alloca comes out from behind the curtain. He's clad in the same attire from his first match against Trey Vincent but the bandana covering his face is black now. He rolls into the ring and hops up on the second rope. The crowd reaction is mixed if you feel like being grateful.
GP: He's looking for revenge here tonight, and to advance to the four-way for the title on our July 5th show.
JT: Hm, the God of the Internet or the white Ray Charles? Tough one there.
Astro: And his opponent...
"Main Offender" from the Hives starts playing. Without the usual buildup due to the unique set, Keith Scott Zimmerman is standing right in front of the hastily-assembled curtain...
...to literally the hugest pop of his short career. People are chanting his initals.
Astro: ...weighing in at 163 pounds of twisted steel and Digital Mafia endorsed appeal, hailing from Berkeley, California at 5'8" and 163 pounds, KEITH! SCOTT! ZIMMMMMMMMERMAAAAAAAAAAN!
KSZ makes no sign towards the fans wearing his shirt, doing the "We're Not Worthy" bow, or singing along. He merely hops into the ring, spits out his gum and swats it into the crowd before posing himself to another huge cheer.
JT: Surprisingly positive reaction to KSZ here.
GP: Surpring if you're a jackass! KSZ 0wns j00!
JT: He what what?
DING DING DING
JT: Never mind, we're underway!
KSZ looks down at the ring around him, sort of disoriented and in shock that there's a match of his on the beach. He turns around, and Alloca kicks him in the gut. Alloca begins backing KSZ up with right hands to the jawline.
JT: Alloca coming out hot early...
He grabs Zimmerman for a whip, but KSZ quickly reverses and sends him back-first into a corner. KSZ comes in but Alloca hears the charging feet and gets his boots up. Sadly for him, KSZ comes to a stop before he can meet the business end of a boot samich.
KSZ laughs. Greg charges forward with a clothesline. KSZ ducks it, and spins him around. He hoists him on his shoulders...
JT: Maybe the Death Valley Driver here already from the Action! star...
...but Alloca's slipped out already. He goes for a dropkick, but KSZ shoves his boots away from him. He goes for a clothesline of his own, but Alloca ducks and hooks him around the waist from behind. Before he can do anything with it, KSZ executes a standing switch.
JT: Zimmerman has his hair...falling reverse DDT!
GP: The first big move of the match, of course, goes to Keith.
KSZ picks up Alloca and immediately gets behind him again and lifts him up. Jones yells out "Counter!" but before he can finish KSZ immediately turns his elbow and completes a back suplex elbow driver.
JT: Cover, two, and a quick early kickout. Zimmerman grabs his right forearm and backs up...
GP: Here he comes!
JT: Roaring El--Alloca backs up and drills Zimmerman with a dropkick. Boot to the gut, swinging neckbreaker. Cover...only one.
GP: Swinging neckbreaker for a pin, Greg? Who do you think you are, Torrie Wilson?
Alloca pounds the mat in frustration before he feels something pulling at his hair--namely, his opponent. Greg drops to all fours and drop toe holds Zimmerman into canvas for a decent pop before running to the ropes, springboarding off, turning and drilling KSZ with a DDT to a bigger cheer.
Not just yet.
JT: The momentum now turning in the favor of the bigger man here from Queens.
GP: He's cheating somehow. How can you hit a springboard DDT and be quote-unquote blind? CHEATER.
KSZ decides to lash out with a chop when Alloca pulls him to his feet, but Greg blocks it quickly and kicks him in the stomach. He lifts him for the jumping DDT, but KSZ holds on to his leg before spinning behind him and dropping him to the mat in a stiff falling back suplex. After a few seconds, both men get to their feet, Greg a little more unsteadily. KSZ tries to unleash the rising palm strike but Greg shifts his body weight and goes to the dropkick as counter again. Before it can connect, KSZ ducks under and Greg adjusts to land on his shoulders before taking him over in a victory roll.
JT: Ye--no! Kickout just barely, and that'd be an upset in my estimation.
¾. Alloca knows he's got no time to waste. Zimmerman staggers up, and Greg buries a knee in his gut before lifting him up in the air.
THIS time, the giant DDT is right on target. The crowd begins rocking and rolling now as Allorca cocks his head to the side, looking for direction.
"Left! Right! Right! UP! FUCKING CURVEBALL!" Axel Jones sees the future. He sees himself as the manager of the latest in a long line of IWO World Heavyweight Champions, the newest being Greg Alloca. And that'll all begin once Greg makes sure he's steady on the top ropes before flying off with the corkscrew moonsault that's the second biggest move in his arsenal.
JT: Alloca steading himself up top, HUGE degree of diffculty...corkscrew into the moonsault!
Unfortunately for Jones...
...his prodigy can't see a damn thing. And his opponent saw two things: a mass about to decend on him, and a narrow window of opportunity.
GP: Why the hell would a blind guy try a corkscrew moonsault? IDIOCY!
KSZ pulls a groggy Alloca to his feet and buries the end of his boot in the abs. Up on the shoulders. Death Valley Driver. The entire weight of Alloca's body gets driven into his head, knocking him even loopier. KSZ stays down, but hears a few of his die-hard Digital Mafians chanting.
JT: What's he doing?! Zimmerman needs to wake up and continue wrestling this match. I mean, the arrogance is just...
"ONE MORE TIME! ONE MORE TIME! ONE MORE TIME!" Up goes Alloca.
DVD II: Electric Boogaloo.
GP: Holy hell, you redefine stupidity in a way not seen since "American Idol".
JT: If you compare me to that festering ass-wound of a show again I will send a bear infected with SARS to rape you.
"Now what, Jones?" KSZ spits at Jones, who immediately gets drawn onto the apron. But KSZ doesn't attack him further, or say another word. He merely props Greg up, smiles grimly, and then launches him with a German suplex.
Launches him so high he lands on his head and chest, being virtually knocked out by the third straight concussive blow with a...
JT: POWER HOIST! I've NEVER heard of Keith doing this!
GP: I'd call him an Innovator of Violence, but the lawsuits...yeah.
JT: And Alloca may be out cold here.
He is. But the one man who cares can't help. "ONE MORE TIME!" KSZ shrugs. Not HIS head. Another lift. Another sickening crunch. Second Power Hoist. If there was a doubt before, there isn't now.
GP: It's OVAH! GET HIM A BODY BAG! TOTAL FA-FREAKING-TALITY!
JT: Oh, Alloca's in bad shape.
The referee looks over. Jones looks fretfully on the outside as KSZ plays to his IWO-only legions of fans, smirking and doing a little mocking dance. He sits back, watches, waits, and sees Alloca somehow beat the 10 count.
He was COUNTING on it.
KSZ: [motioning like the Rock that he's going to run the ropes]
GP: Forgive my language, but what the FUCK...
KSZ bounces off the ropes to his left, a broad smile on his face. He runs right behind the still-recovering and barely conscious Alloca, bouncing off the ropes to his right and narrowly dodging a trip attempt from Jones.
Then he spins as fast as he can with the "momentum" he's built up.
And he throws out his forearm.
And Greg Alloca goes down like James Brown getting up on the goodfoot.
"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!"
JT: Do you know what that was? DO YOU?!
GP: No, I don...He just...
JT: It was the PEOPLE'S ROARING ELBOW! Oh, BOW before the 184 IQ, JT!
Fortunately for those with children, the profane chant turns to Zimmerman's initals. With a smirk he falls backfirst onto the unconscious body, counting alongside the referee.
Yeah, like ANYONE'S kicking out of 2 Death Valley Drivers, two Power Hoists and a souped-up Roaring Elbow.
Chris Astro: Your winner, via pinfall, and advancing in the tournament for the World Heavyweight Championship Keith, Scott ZIMMERMAN~!
GP: And with that graphic display of force, KSZ has locked in a spot for the World Title four-way Iron Man!
JT: Is there a doubt in your sad little mind we are looking at the next wave of IWO superstar; that we are, in fact, in the last days before WORLD CHAMPION Keith Scott Zimmerman?
And at that moment, the village idiot looked like a Harvard-bred genius.
[winner:Keith Scott Zimmerman]
Written by Ben S. and Ford
What he was doing here in the IWO, no one really knew. All anyone knows was that he was the last aWc Heavyweight Champion. He bumps into a man he had spoken to numerous times during their previous stint in aWc together, Nathan's reaction is hardly one of excitement for an old friend.
Taking a look at Flyer, Nathan smiled somewhat, before putting his bags down on the ground in case of any altercation that might happen.
Daniels: So, the big fWo star finally makes an appearance.
Nathan's first words cut deep; Flyer prided himself on being a humble star, despite his on-screen character. There's nothing planned about this segment, the animosity Nathan showed for his former colleague was as intense as ever.
Flyer: You seem to be a big star yourself.
Flyer talks a long look at Daniels body.
Flyer: Well, a bigger star at least.
Flyer points towards Daniels stomach, and does the Pillsbury Doughboys laugh.
Nathan's expression doesn't change, as he keeps the smile as Flyer pops a stick of gum in his mouth and prepares to continue through the hallway. Unfortunately for him, Nathan stands, blocking his path.
Daniels: So this is how you treat your old aWc buddy? What happened Flyer, first you single handily attempt to ruin my financial situation now you're just a flat out asshole? I mean I heard fWo turns people into uncaring pricks but this is totally unexpected.
Flyer smirks, attempting to shrug off the statement before getting into Nathan's face. Continuing to chew the gum, Flyer shrugs and backs away.
Flyer: Financial situation?
Daniels :Didn't you hear? Your little stunt closed aWc for good. Thanks to you a lot of the guys have no way of paying the bills now, I hope you're happy about ruining the lives of some of the nicest guys in the industry.
Flyer spits his gum out in disgust, looking down at the ground, somewhat guilty before springing back to life and shoving Nathan against the locker.
Flyer: Listen Daniels, I don't know what sort of delusion you've gone under since you did your little heel turn, and since we all lost our jobs. You weren't the only one to have to find new work Daniels, I had to do the same. I just haven't burned any bridges, and I was hired by one of the biggest companies in the world. Now I'm sorry that aWc failed, and I'm sorry that financially, it was never stable, and I'm sorry you can't find work, but Nathan
Flyer narrows his eyes and stands just mere inches away from Nathan's face.
Flyer: I wasn't the cause for the collapse of the aWc. I know you want to send blame somewhere, but don't put it on my shoulders. You got me?
The tone of Flyer's voice was something not often heard. He seems more serious, more focused as Nathan's face screws up in disgust and rage for the man he had befriended during the earlier aWc days.
Daniels: Whatever! Let's be honest here man, you didn't give a shit about us. You didn't give a shit about anybody but yourself, that's why you took the first fat contract that came your way without even talking to us. And then you had the audacity to destroy our home as well. You fucked up Fly and you fucked up good. But whatever, keep telling yourself that you didn't do anything wrong see if I give a fuck.
Picking up his bags, Nathan shoves Flyer out of the way and continues through the hallway, leaving Flyer to ponder what was just said. As Nathan continues down the hallway he turns back.
Flyer: Listen Daniels, I don't know what's up with you.
Daniels: You can't make everyone just suddenly like you. I hope you realize that. There will be people that hate you for what you are. And I'm one of them.
Daniels turns away to walk down the hallway out of the room.
Daniels: And get ready Flyer, because at Gold and Glory, we're booked against one another. And I'm NOT going to make it easy for you.
Nathan chuckles to himself as a continues down the hall, leaving Flyer with a mix of emotions as he replays the conversation in his head
Jack Breaker vs. Trey Vincent
Written by Matt
JT: So, what's next up on the card, Greggy boy?
GP: Well, I was just going to mention it, but someone ate my copy of the script during the last match...
JT: Hey! You're the one who dripped nacho cheese on it!
GP: ...that was you, too.
JT: But... you... uh... well, this next match is a qualifying match for the World Title tournament, pitting former IWO star and fan favorite Jack Breaker against Trey Vincent, a newcomer to the IWO scene but a powerful competetor nonetheless.
GP: My God... did you just say something intelligent?
JT: Tartar sauce?
GP: That's what I thought. Anyway, let's get right down to Meygon for the introductions.
The crowd begins to rustle with anticipation as Meygon steps into the center of the ring to start her spiel. She tugs at her top, and seems a bit uneasy before just going on with her job.
Meygon: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Making his way to the ring first, from Minneapolis, Minnesota... he weighs in at two hundred sixty-five pounds, please welcome Trey Vincent!
"We Will Rock You (remix)" by DJ Hurricane blares over the makeshift arena's tinny loudspeakers as Trey appears on the entrance platform. He glares menacingly at the crowd, who respond in due course with a fair amount of heat. Trey plays off the crowd's disgust as he trudges out to the ring.
Meygon: Making his way to the ring next, from Sandusky, Ohio... he is a former IWO Tag Team champion... please welcome the one and hopefully only Jack Breaker!
"Cyclops Rock" by They Might be Giants hits as soap bubbles erupt around the entrance, signalling Jack's arrival. He appears on the entrance platform to a thunderous pop from the crowd. He strolls casually to the ring, giant trout slung casually over his shoulder. As he begins down the walkway to the ring, he is flanked by his wife, Aubrey. He finals hands the trout to her and slides into the ring as the bell sounds.
ding ding ding!
Breaker and Vincent start off with a collar-and-elbow lockup. They muscle for rank for a second, with Breaker taking the sudden upper hand. He hooks Trey by the neck and DDTs him to the canvas. Trey quickly rolls back to his feet and catches a clothesline by Breaker, sending him reeling into the ropes. He rebounds, and Breaker tries to scoop him up for a Tornado backbreaker, but Trey ducks under his arm and continues into the opposite ropes. Breaker turns to face him but isn't fast enough to prevent a rebound facecrusher.
GP: Wise move by the young rookie, taking Breaker down like that. He's not much of a ground wrestler, so the best policy is probably to keep him off his feet as much as possible.
JT: I wouldn't trust that Jack Breaker for a second. Not on the beach, at least. The guy fuckin' TALKS to fish. How do we know he's not commanding a giant lobster army to storm the ring and take us all as captives?
GP: Lobsters aren't fish, moron. They're crustaceans.
JT: Your mom's a crustacean.
Breaker quickly returns to his vertical base, and takes a stiff knife-edge chop from Vincent. He staggers a bit, but blocks a second strike and returns the favor with a cyclone forearm, sending both Vincent and himself to the mat. Breaker works his way upright and pulls Vincent along with him. Vincent's a bit stunned, but snaps out of it abruptly as Breaker hits a knee to the gut, then a swinging neckbreaker. Vincent hits the mat and stays down as Breaker nails a back elbow drop. He goes for a quick cover, but Vincent breaks it up at the two count.
GP: Breaker seems to be taking the early lead here, but can he keep it up long enough to put Trey Vincent away for good?
JT: I don't know about that, Greggy boy. Statistically speaking, Jack Breaker blows.
GP: Statistics? What the hell do you know about statistics?
JT: Well, I made this little graph to illustrate my point.
Back in the ring, Breaker has Vincent tied up in a front facelock. He hooks for a suplex, but hesitates for too long and allows Vincent to drive him back to the ropes with his shoulder. He squirms free and lets go with a high flipping dropkick, sending Breaker over the top rope. Vincent quickly takes the initiative and dives after him with a suicide plancha. He connects firmly and sends Breaker off into smiling happy sunshine land. Vincent pulls Breaker upright and allows him to lean against the ring apron to regain his mental state, nonexistent as it may be.
GP: Ooh. Not a smart move by Trey Vincent. That's rule number one, you know. Never let your opponent catch his breath. Especially not when your opponent's Jack Breaker.
JT: Jeez. If you love Breaker so much, why don't you marry him?
GP: He's already married, dipshi er not that I've given any thought to the matter before now I mean uh I'll just stop talking, now.
Breaker's still dazed and disoriented. Vincent suddenly kicks into high gear, landing a rapid-fire succession of punches and chops all over Jack's body. He sends Breaker down to the ground once more, making sure to smash his face into the apron on the way. Trey then hops up onto the ring steps and lands a short leg drop on Breaker's prone chest.
JT: Trey Vincent's really taking the fight to Breaker, all of a sudden. It's about damn time, isn't it, Greg?
GP: Just shut up.
JT: Oh, that's right. I didn't mean to insult your boyfriend like that.
GP: He's not my boyfriend!
JT: Suuure. *Greg and Breaker, sittin' in a tree! K I uh how does that song go, again?
Breaker's still out cold ringside. The ref is beginning to get restless, and calls out to Trey to take the fight back into the ring. He grudgingly complies, tossing Jack's limp body under the bottom rope. He then hops up onto the apron, vaults over the top rope, and nails a body splash. Breaker barely reacts. He just rolls over a bit and groans.
GP: It's still a bit early in the match what's wrong with Breaker?
JT: What's wrong with him? A two-hundred-sixty pound man just landed on top of him! Think that might have something to do with it?
Satisfied with his work, Trey kicks Breaker into a stable position on his hands and knees. He snaps in a standing headscissors, and signals to the crowd for a big move.
GP: It's Coming Down, right now! Breaker is in a whole lot of trouble if he doesn't do something really soon!
Trey hooks Breaker around the waist and hoists him up or tries to, rather. Breaker won't budge. Trey strains but can't get him up. Breaker suddenly springs into action, bounding quickly to his feet with Trey on his shoulders. He adjusts the weight, spins quickly, and *SLAMS* Trey to the mat.
GP: My GOD, what a powerbomb! I'm surprised Trey didn't break through the ring!
JT: Oh, come on. It wasn't that powerful.
GP: No, it's just that the ring is being held together by rubber bands and elmer's glue.
Breaker is on his feet now, pumped up and waiting. Trey struggles upright and Breaker wails on his gut with a vicious boot. Trey doubles over and Breaker violently snaps in a front facelock. He hooks Trey's arms and delivers a double-arm DDT, driving Trey firmly into the canvas.
GP: Breaker is like a man possessed all of a sudden! What a second wind, eh JT?
JT: ..did you just say 'eh'?
GP: Yeah do you have a problem with that?
JT: Don't ever do that again. EVER.
JT: There was this one time, when I went to Canada, and well, to make a long story short, I didn't even know you could fit a hockey stick up there well, anyway, I can never go back.
Breaker takes a moment to regain his breath. He leans on the turnbuckle to brace himself and play to the fans. He seems engrossed in a staring contest with a six-year-old in a Sam Potright t-shirt as Trey Vincent slowly pulls himself to his feet. Breaker continues his contest, oblivious, as Vincent creeps up behind him and drives an elbow firmly into the back of Breaker's neck. The six-year-old Potright fan shrieks as Jack's head snaps forward and collides with the ring post, opening a rather large gash on his forehead. He slumps down on the turnbuckle as Vincent goes to work, driving shoulder after shoulder into Breaker's spine. Finally, Breaker collapses to the mat. The ref rushes over to check on his consciousness as Trey hops up onto the second rope and pulls off an impressive cannonball splash. Breaker seems to be awake, though just barely, and so the ref quickly slides away to avoid being hit by the flying Vincent.
JT: Jack Breaker's in a lot of trouble. If he can't get back into this match, then there's another blown title opportunity.
GP: I think he should be a little more concerned with permanent brain damage, after that assault on his neck and spine.
JT: Come on. It's Jack Breaker. Would you be able to tell the difference?
Vincent hoists Jack to his feet, and he goes right back down. Undaunted, Vincent tries again, this time tossing him to the ropes. Jack rebounds, weakly ducks under Vincent's outstretched arm, and stops dead in his tracks. He stumbles for a moment, but then sidles up next to Vincent and hits a Russian leg sweep. Vincent rolls and beats Breaker in getting back to his feet. He then proceeds to rouse Breaker with a series of stomps. Breaker slowly regains his vertical base, but Vincent has other plans. He locks in another standing headscissors, and hooks Breaker for a second attempt at a Coming Down. This time, he gets Breaker off the mat and executes the over-the-shoulder belly to back piledriver perfectly.
JT: There's the Coming Down! That's all she wrote, folks. Good night, game over for Jack Breaker. Thank God for that.
GP: I admit, it really doesn't look good for Breaker right now.
JT: Doesn't look good? It's absolutely abysmal! The man might as well just retire now! This is it! He is out like a LIGHT!
Trey Vincent seems to agree. He takes the time to call to the fans, who erupt with heat. He smiles, and charges at the ropes on the far end of the ring. He bounces off, then proceeds to the next. With each bounce, the crowd boos more furiously. Breaker doesn't move. After hitting all four sides of the ring, Trey clenches his fist tightly and approaches Breaker. He winds up and leans back, dropping a huge fist on the mat.
JT: Big Time Fist Drop by Trey Vince what the hell!?!
GP: Jack Breaker sits up! Breaker sits up! Good God, how did he manage that?
Trey howls in pain as Breaker hops up to his feet and takes Trey with him. He slams his knee deep into Trey's abdomen, and hooks him by the neck. He jumps, swings around, and drives Trey's head to the mat.
GP: Clockwork DDT! Breaker comes back from the Coming Down to hit a Clockwork DDT on Trey Vincent!
Trey hits the mat hard and stays down. Breaker hops up onto the turnbuckle and roars for the fans, who roar back. He holds out his arms for a second to hold his balance, then flies off with a twisting double knee drop.
GP: Lullaby to Nightmares! Breaker lands the Lullaby to Nightmares on NO! Trey Vincent rolls away!
Breaker crashes to the mat, connecting with nothing. Trey is on his feet now, and steadies his breathing as Jack follows suit.
JT: Looks like it's anybody's match now again!
Trey quickly tries to regain the upper hand with a clothesline, but Jack catches his arm, spins him around, and tosses him to the corner. Trey hits the turnbuckle hard and staggers away, dazed. Jack quickly hops up on the turnbuckle, raises one arm triumphantly to the crowd, then nails Trey with a 450 flipping neckbreaker.
GP: And there's the Heartbreaker! Jack is pulling out all the stops to put Trey away for good! And this one looks like it's over, folks. Jack hooks the leg
*DING DING DING!*
Meygon: Here is your winner, Jack Breaker!
Cyclops Rock blasts over the PA as Jack triumphantly hops up onto the turnbuckle and tightrope-walks the top rope. Aubrey slides into the ring to celebrate with him. She hands him his giant trout, which he wings off into the ringside crowd. The music slowly fades out as they stroll up the ramp backstage.
Ninja K (21w\A!) versus Great Dragon (fWo)
Having returned from a recent string of Internet Wresting Organization promotional updates and scheduled venue listings, the blackened television monitor began to slowly dissapate, bringing back its focus unto the current events at hand. A lone telemonitor, among many, slowly scans its assigned perimeter to capture the growing sense of mirth and entertainment within the stands. A tandem of large beach balls can be seen are bouncing from section to setion. One of them even gently richocettes off the camera before sailing over the balcony. An entire squadron of seagulls continue to congregate noisily overhead as another monitor, maneuvering forward to offer a bird's eye view to an international audience. Another camera angle captures footage of the scattered clouds, sweeping across the distant New Jersey shoreline. Making a slow transition from the roving cameras, the view slowly returns toward the announce postition, with both men standing by...
GP: In all my years as a broadcaster, I don't think I've ever been truly privledged to sit alongside JT and call a match
JT: That makes me all tingling inside
GP: but tonight we get to see the opening match to Cyberslam, right here on the well, the transcript says sunny, but we all see the overcast clouds raining on our parade. Still, it's going to be one hell of a matchup.
JT: Great Dragon, well, when people say they're great, they usually aren't, against WOAH! NINJA K! This guy RULES! Anyone who's a ninja is AWESOME!
GP: Ladies and gentleman? My color commentator.
Astro: Ladies & Gentlemen; This contest is scheduled for one fall...Introducing first, from the Kansai Prefecture, Osaka, Japan...
Immedietly, the lights surrounding the ring shut off. The unified voices of several thousand strong continue to pierce through the void until the makeshift entrance flickers to life. The sound of "Hail Mary" by TuPac escapes from the overhead PA system, leading the entrance to be overwhelemed by a thick overcast of smoke. The number of past action viginettes dance along the surface of the large overhead screen, giving the crowd an ample resume to sample.
Astro: ...Standing at a height of 6 feet 3 inches and weighting in at an even 235 pounds..."The Athletic Freak of Nature"...This is Ninja K!!
On cue, Kenshiro's athletic frame slowly comes into view. Donning a custom made Crimson & Obdisian trim Ninja Gi, he silently advances forward from the billowing 'mock strom cloud'. At the conclusion of a brief martial arts katas, a pyrotechnical cannon blasts rattles the building and the lights quickly rose to full brightness. During his trek towards the squared circle, he begins to adjust both of his forearm guards and wringing the tension out from his body before ascending unto the ring apron. A Springboard Shooting Star Press into a Crouching position draws the approval of the crowd as Kenshiro quietly allows the referee to inspect him.
Astro: And his opponent...
"Reclaim My Place" by Creed sends an audibe ripple within the crowd as the former fWo Cruiserweight champion steps through the hull of the pirate ship staging area and begins making his way down the extened red carpet. Ensuring that his mask and wrestling attire maintain a satisfactory fit, his focus remains unshakened by the ship's periodical cannon blast sound effects, nor the adoration from the fan populous.
Astro: Representing the Fans Wrestling Organization...At a height of 5 feet 10 inches and a weight of One Hundred & Eighty Seven pounds...Great Dragon!
Greg Parker: Listen to this ovation from this capacity crowd.
JT: Feh. This is nothing compated to the one I get on the weekends. Hoes recognize a pimp when they see one.
GP: Do they recognize this?
Parker raises his hand, so the back is to JT's face.
JT: Yeah, of course!
Parker then bitchslaps JT.
GP: You're my ho!
The sea of spectators continues to roar as Great Dragon remained perchs along the ring apron. Having stepped through the ropes, he allows the stripped official to search him as well. The solemn stare between both men fails to waver as both men finally stand dead center of the canvas. Both driven by a mutual level of competitive drive and respect, they refrain from any premature levels of violence with a silent nod and by touching fists before retreating towards their respective corners.
JT: Look at Dragon. He's literally shaking in his boots. I would too if I came face to face with a real live ninja.
GP: Regardless as to what you may think, there is one thing that we can be certain of and that is that this is going to be a literal chess match between both of these competitors.
JT: How do you figure? This match is going to be one-sided, similar to what happens to any chick I take home. My money is on the ninja guy.
GP: Well, it is obvious that you didn't see these two go at it at CyberSlam 03'. The match went down to the wire before that controversial ending to it.
JT: Oh yeah, I remember that screwjob. That was nothing than home court advantage. That's all. And I remember it because I was getting screwed! OH!
GP: JT sticking a screwdriver up your own God, I can't even say it. We're family programming.
JT: No we're not.
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
Greg Parker: And here we go!
Sizing each other up, both Ninja and Dragon break free from their corners and begin to circle around the ring. With their fingertips quivering intently, they soundly collide with a Collar & Elbow Tie Up. Fiercely jockeying for position, Dragon begins using his low center of gravity as a means of wresting control into his favor. Sensing the shift of power, Kenshiro drops to a knee to abort Horito's advances. Dragon quickly takes advantage and snaps Kenshiro over with a Side Headlock Takedown. Using his flexibility, Kenshiro quickly counters by placing a prone Headscissors on Dragon, who immedietly kips out of and scrambles to his feet. A stalemate is achieved as both men engage in a harden staredown from a defensive crouching position.
Greg Parker: This Atlantic City crowd appears to be unbiased between these two men as we already have a standoff in the opening seconds of the match.
JT: Well, look at what just happened; Dragon has to think of a strategy to even compete with Ninja. You seen that height doesn't mean shit right now.
Greg Parker: You have to understand that this is an educated crowd out here. They have a firm understand and respect for actual wrestling so this goes beyond good guys and what have you.
Taking a few moments to mentally assess the opposition, they reenter the 'kill zone' and edge closer towards each other. They carefully extend their raised hands towards each other before interlocking their fingers together in a Test of Strength. Given his storied past of an injury to the shoulder, Great Dragon finds himself being arched back until his shoulders are firmly pinned to the mat.
Hearing the support from the fans, Dragon slowly begins to arch back to a vertical base. Struggling against the pressure, Dragon flips Kenshiro over into a Double Wrist Suplex Pin with a Bridge!
Kenshiro slowly arches himself to his feet before rotating his rival into Tilt The Whirl position but Dragon slips out and counterd with a Spinning Headscissors Takedown! Ninja quickly rolls to his feet and makes a B-line towards Dragon, who evades with the Leapfrog. Horito positions himself to delivers a Back Body Drop but Kenshiro pivots and rolls off Dragon's back with a Reverse Somersault Flip! Landing to his feet, Kenshiro used his right arm to sweep Dragon's legs from underneath him before covering him for a Lateral Press but Dragon balls Ninja up in a Small Package!
Kenshiro aggressively kicks out and both men scramble quickly to their feet. Dragon attempts an Irish Whip yet Ninja reverses, sending Great Dragon for the ride. Ninja lifts Dragon over for a Hip Toss but Dragon floats over and propells Ninja up & over with a Monkey Flip, but Kenshiro front flips and lands to his feet before immedietly shooting off to the opposite ropes. The marks continue to become more amped up as Kenshiro executes a Cartwheel over a prone Dragon before rebounding off the opposing ropes. As Dragon completes another Leapfrog over a running ninja, Kenshiro propelles himself against the ropes with a Forward Handspring and belts Great Dragon square in the jaw with a Running Back Handspring Elbow! The audience roars in approval as Ninja held Dragon down with a Kneeling Arm Bar Submission Hold.
GP: Can you call that action JT? Move for move?
JT: Yeah, of course I could. It is my job you know.
GP: Then why didn't you do it?
JT: Uhmmm . I didn't want to upstage you! That's it!
Gnashing his teeth against the moderate torquing of his sore arm, Dragon begins reassessing his current situation before working his way to a knee. Steadily checking the hold with his freehand, Dragon finally goes into action by performing a Forward Single Handspring to his feet and jamming a shoulder into Ninja's abdomen.
JT: There goes his breathing.
GP: Why do you care?
JT: I'm a very caring individual.
GP: Yeah, only when someone's messing with your porn.
Given some room to operate, Dragon buries a Boot into Kenshiro's stomach before regaining control with a Quick Double Leg Takedown and following up with a Bridging Double Legged Pick Up Roll Up Pin.
Ninja abruptly broke the count, leading Dragon to assault him with a series of Overhand Chops and Martial Arts Kicks before pulling Ninja up to his feet. Cinhing his opponent up, Dragon quickly smacks Kenshiro's spine against the canvas with a Textbook Snap Suplex.
GP: Beautiful suplex by Dragon!
JT: Yes, we all saw the suplex. Is this ALL they pay you to do?
GP: Well, this and make fun of you.
Refraining from covering his opponent, Dragon sends the ninja slamming back first into the nearby corner. Instead of barreling in for an assault, Dragon merely powerwalks over and lets loose with a blistering Knife Edge Chop!
GP: Ric Flair is truly a legend.
JT: Ric who?
Reeling from the succession of blistering Chops, Kenshiro lashes back with one of his own...
Exhibiting a battery of red marks across his exposed chest, Horito feels that he's had enough...
Kenshiro fires back...
Horito doubles Kenshiro over with a hard Kick to the midsection before...
Clutching his burning chest, Kenshiro remains hunched against the turnbuckle. Having gathered his wind back, the former fWo Cruiserweight champion rears back and lunges forward with a Roaring Elbow but Kenshiro launches him up & over the top rope with a Back Body Drop before dropping to a knee.
GP: Kenshiro desperately saved himself and gives him some breathing time.
JT: Come on Greg. A cruiserweight in the ring, one on the outside. A rocket scientist one doesn't need to be to predict what one does next.
GP: Did you watch Star Wars before you came out here again?
JT: Before? I'm watching it now!
Looking to shake the cobwebs out of his head, the masked vagabond drops down to the mat and rolls himself to the outside. His prey can be seen using the ring apron to stand himself, leaving him open to catch a blistering Buzzsaw Kick to the Kidney!
GP: HA! What you thought would happen DIDN'T happen.
JT: That doesn't make me wrong!
GP: Wh YES IT DOES!
Pulling his Japanese counterpart by the arm, Kenshiro leads Great Dragon away with an Irish Whip before shifting the momentum and smacking the back of Dragon's head with a Low Angled Enziguri Kick! The violent impact becomes worse as Dragon slams shoulder first into the steel steps, knocking them over!
JT: That can't be good.
GP: I'd imagine not.
JT: Why imagine when the pain is right there?
Still smarting from those punishing chops, Kenshiro drags his reluctant opponent to his feet and painfully crotches him along the guardrails before knocking him over with a Spinning Crescent Kick to the Cheek. The fans in the front row seats take this opportunity to garner themselves some free publicty as Kenshiro crawls back into the ring.
A number of fans begin to move out of the way as Kenshiro prepares to pounce onto his rising rival. Another camera angle assumes command as Ninja takes flight and disappears into the crowd with a Springboard Somersault Senton!!
JT: Holy CHRIST on a Stick!
GP: That's probably one of the most offensive things you could EVER say, seeing as Christ was crucified.
JT: Hey, he had the way of death named after him, he should only be so lucky.
A matter of moments pass before Dragon's body pushes over the railing and onto the floor before the ninja re-emerged. Shaking his head, Kenshiro rolls his opponent back into the ring before climbing onto the ring apron. After rearing back, Kenshiro hurls himself back into the ring with a Slingshot Somersault leg drop across Dragon's throat. The referee drops down for the cover!
Dragon's fist rises toward the heavens brings forth a calloused scowl across Kenshiro's face. Sweeping the dangling hair follicles away from his brow, the ninja reaches down and crosses Dragon's arms across his chest before trying to lift Dragon into the air. Dragon uses his leg to block the maneuver twice before Kenshiro unleashes a battery of Overhand Chops to the Neck & Upper Back. Seeking to batter Horito with a regular PowerBomb, Dragon quickly catches the ninja off guard by flipping out and knocking the Ronin down with an improvised Seated Jaw Breaker!
GP: Dragon with an impressive seated jaw breaker.
JT: Like a jaw breaker can stop a Ninja. He doesn't need his jaw to be all sneaky!
Stunned yet reluctant to quit, Great Dragon becomes the first to peel himself off the mat. Left sprawled out along the canvas, Kenshiro begins to slowly stir about as a rejuvenated Dragon reestablishes a vertical base. Ninja drags himself to a knee before lashing out with a Right Hook but Dragon blocks and drills Ninja with a Right Hand of his own. The crowd momentum starts to favor the former fWo Survivor II contestant with each successful shot. The momentum quickly shifts as Kenshiro drops the former emerald green masked warrior, and now the bright blue masked warrior with a Underhanded Chop to the Throat.
JT: I'd say that's illegal, but he's a freaking NINJA! He's ABOVE the law!
Desperately clutching his throat, Dragon soon begins to work himself to his feet with Kenshiro crouched down. Poised to deliver a martial arts kick to Dragon's skull, Kenshiro remains at the ready.
GP: Ninja K is waiting, just WAITING!
JT: SILENT! DRAGON CAN'T HEAR HIM COMING!
Kenshiro springs into action with a searing Buzzsaw Kick, but fails to connect as Dragon capitializes with a demonic German Suplex!
GP: What a reversal! Silent my arse JT!
Dragging a dazed Ninja to his feet, Dragon uses his strength to lift and pummel his victim with yet another German Suplex!
JT: RELEASE HIM! HE'S A NINJA! YOU DON'T DO THAT TO A NINJA!
GP: Calm down JT, before you pop something. Like one of your pimples.
With his knees weakening from a pair of bone-jarring Suplexes, Kenshiro makes a desperate attempt to free himself by connecting with a trio of Back Elbows. Relying on pure tenacity, Dragon continues to hang on. Kenshiro's fourth attempt to land another back Elbow proves costly as the Great Dragon allows the ninja to spin himself into position for a Belly To Belly Overhead Suplex! Dragon arches his back to strengthen the Bridge!
1/8th of a second and a hallowed Forearm Shot to Dragon's rib cage seperates the fWo Cruiserweight from certain victory. The surrounding spectators display their enthusiasum with an audible roar of disbelief as Dragon scoops Ninja up and delivers a spine tingling Pendulum Back Breaker to further cripple his fellow countryman.
JT: Can this Dragon guy not HEAR me?
GP: If he did, wouldn't you think he'd breathe fire at you?
JT: He-he can do that?
Scaling the turnbuckles at a moderate pace, Dragon wastes little time to reach the top. Meanwhile, Kenshiro is hunched down on both knees. He is beginning to favor his lower back as he attempts to stand. Seizing the moment, Dragon takes flight and soars towards his unwitting prey...
His attempt to connect with a Super Hurricanrana Pin has been adverted with a devestating Power Bomb! The velocity alone shakes the ring, knocking the ninja off balance and sending him stumbling backwards onto the canvas.
GP: Sucks to be Dragon!
JT: THERE WE GO! KICKING A LITTLE ASS, NINJA STYLE!
Several moments elapse before either man is able to return to an upright position. A slight drizzle of rain begins to descend from the darkened sky. The faint shower offers a bounty of refreshment for all as Kenshiro motions over towards a stirring Dragon.
JT: Oh great, rain. And me without my condom.
GP: That's raincoat JT. Raaaaiiin coat.
The rain stops as quickly as it came while Kenshiro recaptures his wind and cinches in an Back Mounted Inverted Face Lock on Dragon. The referee kneels down to guage Great Dragon's condition to continue.
GP: This doesn't look well JT.
JT: How can you be a judge of what's well. I've heard you looking the mirror in the morning and are PLEASED.
Horito's fighting spirit and pride becomes more evident with time, prompting Kenshiro to release the hold. A slight level of frustration is setting in within, leading the ninja to lock his technical adversary into a Full Nelson and pull Dragon to his feet. Being met with great resisitance, Kenshiro continues to fight for position before repeatidly Headbutting Dragon at the base of his neck.
GP: Is that all you can say now? Woo?
Great Dragon's kicking ceases, reassuring Kenshiro to proceed by lifting the 187 pound nuicense and jarring his spinal cord with a Kneeling Full Nelson Butt Drop! A weakened grimace appears across Dragon's lips as Kenshiro refuses to let go. Determined to break the opposition, Kenshiro struggles to drag his rival back to his feet before connecting with another Kneeling Full Nelson Butt Drop! Stumbling to a knee, Kenshiro reluctantly positions himself onto both feet.
JT: And Dragon's ass will be sore tomorrow!
GP: Just like JT's ass is sore today!
After testing the integrity of his legs, Kenshiro sets his footing before executing a Forward Front Flip into a Bridge! The grueling howl that escapes from Dragon's lips becomes intertwined by the roar of a captivated crowd! The stripped offical watches as Dragon defiantly rebukes the resonating pain being inflicted upon him.
JT: HOLY SHIT!! WHAT IN THE FUCK IS THAT?!
GP: The Chains of Lingering Regret. The move is set to heavily wrench the base of the neck and mean to soften up the neck for a finishing maneuver.
GP: Yeah, it pays to be able to read JT.
The referee kneels down and tests Dragon's level of conscienceness as Kenshiro continues to use his flexability as a weapon.
The referee raises Dragon's arm once....
..And it fell.
For a second time, Dragon's weakened limb is test...
GP: Dragon seems out of it!
JT: Fall damn you, FALL!
GP: My unbiased friend folks!
..The muscular appendage slumps onto the slightly saturated canvas. The masses continue to watch as a stream of saliva, drips from Dragon's lips. Kenshiro begins to apply his weight into the maneuver, applying more fire to an already ravaged spine. Submission is but a moment away.
For a final time, Great Dragon's arm would be raised above his head...
A huge pop rips through the sea of spectators as Horito's arm held steady. In an act of disappointment, Kenshiro releases the hold and drops to both of his knees. A raspy series of coughs bellow forth from Dragon's lungs as he falls forward onto his face. Sweeping away the soaked tendrils of hair from over his eye, Kenshiro pulls himself to his feet and begins nodding his head in acceptance of the situation.
GP: Ninja K thought this match was WON!
JT: Dragon should have just let the arm drop. You don't mess with a ninja!
Struggling to get to his feet, Kenshiro quickly approaches Dragon from behind and levels him with a Tomohawk Forearm to the back of the already wrenched neck. Sent staggering forward, Dragon's chest repells him from the ropes, allowing Kenshiro to lift him into the air with a Full Nelson Pancake. At the apex of the maneuver, Kenshiro spins about and drives Great Dragon's neck unto his shoulder with a Reverse Ace Crusher!
JT: Ninja K with a spinny Ninja weapon!
GP: Do you even READ the pre-match notes?
Dragon's body is rendered immobile as he falls soundly onto his side. Having also collapsed to his side, Ninja takes a moment to pant heavily before covering Dragon with his battle worn body.
Chris Astro: Your winner, via pinfall NINJA K~!
GP: Both men are slowly getting to their feet now, and the crowd is applauding them for a match well down! Ninja K is helping his fallen opponent up!
JT: NO! That's not a Ninja act!
GP: Ninja's are honorable JT, and that's exactly what is happening, as Ninja K shakes Great Dragon's hand in a show of sportsmanship. What an honor it is to see this here at Beach Party seven!
JT: My entire view of ninjas! Ruined!
Arcade and Sons vs. Team VIAGRA
Written by Ford
GP: After that travesty during the last match, I just hope we don't have anything more like that next, as we showcase our talented tag team division for the fans.
JT: Talented eh? So, they're out talent, even though we steal them.
GP: I could tell you to shut up, but what's the point. What IS the point. Man, I wish Nikki was still employed.
JT: Isn't she?
GP: Well, okay, I wish she was slapping you a lot.
JT: Well, I slap her a lot, in the BEDROOM!
JT raises his hand for a high five, but Parker doesn't give it to him.
JT: Oh come on, you gotta give me props.
Parker hands JT some fake treasure and an eye patch.
GP: There's your props.
JT: Woah, these things are awesome!
JT puts on the eye patch.
JT: 'Ello mate. I'm Xander Harris! Time to kick a little demon bootay, and then have some sex with some demon bootay. BOOYAH!
GP: You know, that's a girls show.
JT: IS NOT! NOTHING WITH TONS OF HOT CHICKS CAN BE A GIRLS SHOW! YOU LIE! YOU LIAR YOU!
GP: Let's talk about the match upcoming, which includes IWO faithful and proud Team VIAGRA, two time IWO tag team champions and two time jOlt tag team champions, squaring off against Arcade and Son, the Arcades, currently Action! Wrestling's tag team champions!
JT: Did you SEE Alyson Hannigan in For Him Magazine?
GP: *Ignoring JT* The Arcades were successful at Action!'s version of our very own Ice Age, Juggernaut II by defeating three other teams. Which is sort of a mirror to Team Viagra, and hopefully, that means that the Arcades will be just as successful as Team VIAGRA in their home of Action! Wrestling.
JT: She was SMOKING!
GP: Team VIAGRA, after winning the titles for the first time three years ago in the summer months, defended the belts against challengers after challengers, mostly in four way dance situations. But that all doesn't matter, because tonight, this match is just a one on one match, and it won't be for the Action! tag titles.
JT: It's not? Crap, now I can't predict who's gonna win.
GP: Flyer and Davis haven't teamed up in a tag team situation in quite some time. I think the last time was facing the Elements on Action! wrestling's Pressure Point sometime in February, while the Arcades definitely have the current tag team ring rust advantage, for not having ring rust. Let's just head down to the ring.
Chris Astro stands in the ring, wearing his suit which pressed up against his body and a microphone in his hands. Meygon looks on from outside of the ring, day dreaming of whatever she was looking for in her life. That's when the chords to I Hope You Die by the Bloodhound Gang, and was followed with a rather large amount of cheers.
Chris Astro: This match, is scheduled for one fall, and is a NON-Title matchup. Introducing first, weighing in at a combined four hundred and forty four pounds, Tony Davis, High Flyer, they are, TEAM, VIAGRA~!
Davis and Flyer walk out from the back, raising their hands in victory as their feet touch the red carpet. Flyer looks to the side and demands one of the works to sweep the red carpet as they walk. They follow suit, as the crowd does a small chant of Sweep it up asshole sweep it up, before Flyer and Davis head into the ring. Davis seems incredibly focused, while Flyer seems to just be looking for a good time. That's when their music is cut, and replaced with Triumph by the Wu-Tang Clan.
Chris Astro: And their opponents, hailing from Los Angeles, California. They weigh in at a combined four hundred and sixty four pounds, Donell and Julius, the Arcades!
Julies and Donell walk out from the back, Julius leading the way. They each have their title belts, and their opponents continue to stare at them their entire way down to the ring. Not to mention, their tag titles themselves. Julius and Donell climb into the ring, hand their titles over, and wait for the bell to ring.
GP: This is going to be quite the matchup.
JT: How could it? Julius is like, Fifty!
GP: You shouldn't ever turn on Action! then, because you'd see a sixty year old Conrad Ramsey!
*Ding, ding, ding*
Julius and Donell stand at their corner of the ring, while Flyer and Davis do the same. Neither two men back down, and it seems to be an interesting dynamic, as both Flyer and Donell both seem to want to jump head first into the action, while Julius and Tony are both looking on at their partners. Davis nods to Flyer, who heads out of the ring, and Julius does the same, letting Donell take the start of the match.
They lock up, center of the ring in a regular tie up. Davis wraps Donell in an arm bar, as Donell tries to break out of it. Donell chops Davis square in the neck, and then locks Davis' arm in a wrist lock. Davis fights out of it with an eye gouge, and sends Donell into the ropes and off the other side. Once returning, Davis charges for a running clothesline that Donell is able to duck. Back off the other side, Donell drives his shoulder into Tony's gut and sends him down to the mat with a double leg takedown.
Donell goes for the arm, trying to get some sort of submission hold locked in, but Davis fights out of it with a couple of right hands. Donell and Davis both recover to their feet, but Davis is the first to take advantage, locking him arm drag into an arm bar. Once there, Donell rolls, breaking up the hold and placing his head between Davis's arm pits. He goes for a northern lights suplex, but Davis pounds out of it with elbow shots to the back. Donell breaks the hold, holding his lower back and Davis immediately grabs him in a waist lock. Donell tries to elbow out but Davis continually avoids it, and shoves Davis into the ropes. Donell hooks the top, causing Davis' wrench backwards to send him to the canvas in a backwards tumble, right near his corner.
GP: Neither men are gaining an advantage here this early, as Donell and Tony both make tags to their respective tag team partners.
Flyer hops in over the top rope, as Julius makes a calm entrance. They slowly walk to the middle of the ring, and Flyer stands head to head with him. Oddly enough, Flyer is taller, if just by an inch. That's when Flyer rips off his fWo t-shirt that he was wearing, and pounds his chest. Julius stands back a small bit as the fans are cheering for him to chop the living beejesus out of Flyer. Julius does this, delivering a beautiful knife edge chop that causes Flyer to reel back and clutch his chest in pain. Flyer turns around, his eye brows raised and somewhat impressed. But that all changes as Flyer delivers a chop of his own. Julius flies back as well, but then turns around, and chops Flyer once more. Flyer returns the favor, and they exchange Canadian violence, Julius, then Flyer. Julius, then Flyer. Julius, then Flyer. But theses chops get too much for Julius, as Flyer pounds away with three more that send him into a neutral corner.
GP: A little Canadian violence by these two Americans.
JT: Then wouldn't it be American violence?
GP: Their chests aren't Iraq JT.
Flyer tosses Julius' arms away and hits another chop, which sends Julius clutching his red tinted chest. Flyer grabs Julius by his arm, and tosses him into the opposite corner. Once there, Flyer charges in, but Julius raises both boots. But then again, Flyer is able to slide underneath, but winds up sliding too far, and crotches himself to the groans of the crowd. Julius, still hanging on the top, releases himself and drops an elbow to the back of Flyer's neck, just as Flyer was recovering from his mis-slidation.
GP: What a unique counter from Julius, to counter a move that Flyer countered himself to begin with.
JT: Do you even listen to what you say?
GP: I drift in and out.
Julius lifts Flyer up off the canvas, and tosses him headfirst into the turnbuckle pad in his corner. He makes the tag to his son, as Donell climbs in. Both deliver a few boots to the midsection, before Donell finishes it off with a vicious knife edge chop to the throat, which sends Flyer backwards like a see saw on the top rope before sending him down to the mat in a seated position, hanging on by the bottom rope and using the turnbuckle for support. Once there, Donell grabs Flyer by his legs, and tugs at him.
GP: Flyer is desperately trying to avoid leaving that corner, but he may have put himself into a precarious situation.
JT: Precarious? What the HELL does that mean? I still think it's just filler.
Donell sees Flyer's left knee exposed, locked in a brace, and delivers a swift kick, sending Flyer to scream out in pain. Flyer lets go, and Donell uses his momentum to twist his body and powerbomb Flyer into the middle of the ring. He stays on top, in a roll up position for the cover.
Davis makes the save, just in time, since Flyer is still only focused on the excruciating pain that has suddenly sent shockwaves up and down his spine.
GP: Donell saw the brace, the injured knee that Flyer says is a hundred percent but we all know it's not. It can't be after everyone in the world targets that knee.
JT: That's not true. I target his head.
GP: You don't target anything.
JT: You don't see me on the shooting range.
The referee sends Davis out of the ring, as Donell lifts a hobbling Flyer to his feet. He walks over to his corner, and tags in Julius, but turns around to eat an enzeguri to the face. He begins to crawl over to his corner, but Julius cuts him off by grabbing Flyer's left leg, lifting it up and smashing his knee into the canvas.
GP: And Donell's father is going to continue the work his son started.
JT: Doesn't it usually go the other way?
GP: Excuse me?
JT: I mean, usually, in life, the son continues the father's work, right? This is just, too mind boggling for me.
GP: JT, Women's lingerie is too mind boggling for you.
JT: They're so SKIMPY! Why any women would wear them when there are men like me in the world, I'll never know.
Julius grabs Flyer's knee, and drops his own over top, sandwiching between his leg and the canvas. He repeats this two more times, before locking in a single legged boston crab. Flyer screams out in pain, and desperately reaches for the ropes, but the closest one is behind him, and he can't contort his body in ways his spine can not bend.
GP: Flyer is going to have a tough time getting out of this hold. The referee is watching Davis, making sure he stays on the outside while also asking Flyer if he wishes to give in. This is great officiating work by the official.
JT: Do you even know his name?
JT: I think that's the guy who you were secret santa for two years ago, and you don't even know his name?
GP: I know your mom's name, what do you think about that.
JT: Yeah, I know you do. I told you.
GP: Fine. I wasn't going to say this, but you have NO authority on making sure people know other people's names, because you don't even know your own.
JT's is taken back by this.
JT: Too mean Greg. Too mean.
Flyer slowly pulls himself on his hands and elevated knees. Every inch, the pain just seems to get worse on Flyer's face, until finally, he reaches the bottom rope and dives out to grab it to cheers.
GP: Flyer barely gets his hands on the bottom rope to break the submission off!
The referee tells Julius to break the hold, which he does. As Flyer still latches on for dear life, he kiss the bottom rope slightly, and then contorts his face in disgust.
JT: Ha! I'm sure his wife tastes better than that.
GP: WHAT? You kissed his wife?
JT: No, I'm just assuming.
GP: I was just shocked because I was surprised you touched a women in general.
Flyer lets go of the bottom rope, as Julius tags out to Donell Arcade. Donell climbs in, and grabs Flyer by his left leg. Flyer hops around the ring, and goes for another enzeguri, but Donell ducks. Flyer lands on his right leg, reaches back, and hooks Donell in a ¾ headlock. He hops over to the corner with the stunned Donell, uses it to spring, and does a complete flip over top and drives him into the canvas with
GP: SLICED BREAD NUMBER THREE! OUT OF NOWHERE AND ON ONE FOOT!
Suddenly, the clouds begin to rumble in the sky, and a light rain begins to fall.
GP: Crud, sorry folks, we thought that maybe we could get through the rest of this matchup and finish off the show, but it seems as if nature is not on our side.
Flyer, crawling on his hands and knees, dives toward the corner and tags in his partner Tony Davis to a huge roar.
GP: Davis is in, and he's not used to getting these cheers. Then again, neither is Flyer. Davis charges, and Julius climbs into the ring, and charges as well. Davis stops in his tracks, flapjack INTO a knife edged chop!
Donell returns to his feet, and attacks Davis from behind with a forearm. Donell locks him into a belly to back, and lifts him for a brainbuster, but Davis drops completely behind him. Donell turns around, and Davis is waiting, and kicks him in the gut.
GP: HERE IT IS! DAVIS! Lifts Donell up EQUALIZER! DAVIS HAS JUST NAILED THE EQUALIZER TO THE ROAR OF THE CROWD!
Davis dives on top.
Julius gets to his feet.
Flyer knocks him back down!
GP: TEAM VIAGRA HAVE DONE IT! THEY'VE BEATEN THE ACTION! TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS! IN THE POURING RAIN!
Davis rolls out of the ring as does Flyer. Flyer places his arm over Davis' shoulder, and helps him walk his way to the back. Astro has since left the scene, not wishing to get his rented suit wet, so Meygon climbs into the ring, soaking wet.
Meygon: Your winners, via pinfall, Team VIAGRA!
Written by Ford
JT: Wait a second Parker, Arcades are in the ring still, with a microphone in their hand?
Soaking wet from the rain, umbrellas all around, Julius Arcade and Donell are there, while Donell holds his head in pain. He is the one with the microphone.
Donell: Woah woah woah! I didn't come here to the IWO to be the second best. I didn't come here to get soaked in the rain and soaked in the ring. I came here to win. So you know what.
Julius stands there, trying to shake his head no as Donell raises his Action! Tag team championship.
Donell: We want a rematch, right here, right now, in the soaking rain. We want you back in this very ring, and we want you, to come and try to take out titles.
Donell lays the belt down in the center of the ring, as it seems to almost float on the puddle that has formed. Tony and Flyer have stopped, just steps from the entrance rampway, as the fans, even in the pouring rain, are wishing for the team to step back into the ring.
GP: This is insane! The belt isn't governed by us! We can't sanction a title match, nor could we make the belt switch stick even if we could!
JT: Shut up Greg, I just want to see some more of the soaked Meygon in the ring.
Donell raises his hands like Laurence Fishburne in the Matrix, as Davis and Flyer look at one another, trying to feel what the other wishes. Julius is obvious against the rematch, as he's just plain old getting soaked in the ring. That's when Davis and Flyer make a break for it, charging full speed to the roar of the crowd.
They slid in under the bottom rope, and get to their feet, hammering away at both Julius and Donell with right hands. They each nail a knife edged chop which sends the champions into the ropes.
*Ding, ding, ding*
Arcade and Son c- vs. Team V.I.A.G.R.A.
Written by Ford
Davis and Flyer whip the Arcades off the ropes, but Donell reverses it and Flyer is sent alongside Julius. Julius seems to be going faster, as he hits Davis and Davis delivers a back body drop, that sends Julius down to the canvas. Flyer returns, and Donell does the same, but Flyer twists his body so that he lands on the fallen Julius with a senton bomb out of the back body drop.
Both men down, Davis and Donell turn their attention to one another, pounding away with right hands.
GP: Since they were the legal men in the last fall, I'd assume they are now as well.
JT: You assume a lot of things. And when you assume things, you make an ass out of you and me.
GP: No, you're just an ass in general.
Davis and Donell continue just throwing right hand after right hand. They both just hammer each other repeatedly, not carrying that this is an actual wrestling match, before Donell grabs Davis and takes him down with a double leg takedown. Donell continues to slam the hands as Davis tries to cover up, before the official tries to pull them apart. Instead, this allows Davis to roll on top and hammer away himself with right hand after right hand.
That is, until the official, with some built down strength, yanks Davis off of him and shoves him into his corner. Donell returns to his feet, as Davis walks right into an overhead belly to belly suplex. Davis lands hard on his neck, and rolls out of the ring to regroup.
GP: And the action spills the outside on the wet sand. Davis and Donell are hammering one another, no time for rest, as Julius drops down off the apron, hoping to slow down the brawling.
JT: No! Speed it up! Weapons BLOOD! GORE! GORE GORE!
GP: Wait! Inside the ring! Flyer pulls himself up to the top rope, trying not to use his left leg! They don't know he's up! On top, Flyer dives with his right good leg, and LANDS ON THE OUTSIDE WITH A SHOOTING STAR PRESS!
The crowd pops huge as all four men stay fallen in the ring. Flyer slowly pulls himself up by using the tarp of the ring, and grabs Donell by his ear, and tossing him in. Flyer climbs up onto the apron, and leaps up to the top rope for a springboard. But his leg gives out, and he crotches himself. Donell recovers slowly, and walks over to Flyer. With Flyer hooked on the top, Donell grabs him from behind, lifts him off, delays, and DROPS him in the middle of the ring.
GP: THERE IT IS! DONELL hits uhmmmm Fuct.
JT: You mean fact?
GP: No, I mean fuct.
Donell dives on top for the cover.
Davis barely breaks it up. And once there, with Donell still on top, Davis locks him in the crossface, and then yanks him off of Flyer and hooks the hold in strong.
GP: Davis has the Affliction locked in! Davis is yanking back at Donell's neck, the same neck that Davis dropped him on with the Equalizer!
Donell screams out in pain as Davis locks the hold in harder, and the fans are on their feet.
GP: Donell can't hold on any longer! He's going to tap! He's going to tap and give up the tag team titles!
Julius slides into the ring, and lifts both men up. With the Affliction still locked in, he grabs Davis' neck
GP: JULIUS JUST HIT THE ARCADE DROP! TAKING BOTH MEN AND HIMSELF DOWN AT THE SAME TIME! ALL FOUR MEN ARE DOWN! ALL FOUR MEN ARE DOWN!
JT: AH! You don't have to shout. I'm RIGHT here! And you have a microphone! A MICROPHONE!
GP: All four men are down, and I don't see them getting up any time soon! I don't see them getting up any time soon!
Suddenly, Julius and Flyer begin to stir, slowly recovering. Flyer whips his hair up out of his face, spraying it all over the crowd. They both slowly recover, and Flyer gets a boot to Julius midsection. Once there, he locks in a double underhook, and lifts Julius up off of the canvas
GP: Hypothermia?!? NO! Julius slides out of it, Flyer turns around shocked, and EATS AN ARCADE DROP! DOWN CENTER OF THE RING! Julius tosses Davis out, and helps his partner up!
With Davis gone and Flyer down, Julius and Donell climb to opposite corners.
GP: From opposite ends of the ring LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON! ON fWo SUPERSTAR HIGH FLYER! JULIUS AND DONELL ARE ON TOP FOR THE PIN!
GP: Arcade and Son have won! They've defeated Team VIAGRA, and have defended the Action! Tag team straps on IWO soil!
JT: While being soaked, I'm going to go try to get Meygon out of her top.
JT leaves, as Meygon enters the ring. The Arcades pick up their tag team straps.
Meygon: THE WINNERS, AND STILL ACTION! TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS, ARCADE AND SON!
JT climbs into the ring, talks to Meygon a slight bit, and gets a slap in the face.
GP: AH! Home sweet home! I hope everyone has enjoyed the show, because there are no refunds. I'm Greg Parker and for my partner JT and all the wrestlers in the back, join us July 5th in Philadelphia for Gold and Glory! Until then, FIND BE A BON VOYAGE CATCH PHRASE!
The camera fades out to Arcade and Son holding up the tag team title straps, heading to the back and slapping the fans hands as they do.
[winners:Arcade and Son]