"You see Curtis, this is how it's gonna go down?"

Slamm now...lifting Kupleck up onto his shoulders!!! he's got him in a fireman's carry and...HOLY FUCKING MOSES!! FAB SLAMM OFF THE TOP OF THE LADDER...DOWN THROUGH THE TABLE!!! KUPLECK GETTING SIDE SLAMMED DOWN THROUGH THE TABLE!!! MY GOD!!! KUPLECK IS DONE FOR!! HE'S DONE!! SLAMM GETS UP, HE MIGHT HAVE BROKEN HIS ARM DOING THAT...Slamm now...climbs back up the ladder...Waltman now, slowly sliding into the ring...but...there's no way he'll be able to stop Slamm now!! Slamm is up and reaching for the gold...Waltman is just getting to his feet...he makes his way to the ladder and tries to climb...SLAMM GRAB THE TITLE!!! WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION!!!! IT'S CURTIS SLAMM!!!)

Peter Roberts: Wow! What a battle!! whatever animosity this crowd had for the no contest bullshit that happened early on, this match has won them over big time!! Curtis Slamm has emerged victorious here! What an effort by all men, but Slamm got the title!! He used his power!!!

Fred Estridge: God, we'll never hear the end of this one. Slamm's got a golden mouth.

(Ladies and Gentlemen...the winner of the TLC match...AND NEW INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPION...CURTIS SLAMM!!!)

Curtis Slamm sits in the back of a limo smiling. He is dressed in a tuxedo, his hair gelled, and decorated in all the bling that people come to expect. Though the gold plated Rolex watch is bothering his wrist as he fidgets with it.

The privacy window slowly lowers.

"Sorry sir, the extra security measures for events like this always creates an unbelievable traffic jam but I promise you won't miss anything."

Slamm wiggles around in his seat and stretches his legs.

"I'm not worried."

"Why not?"

Tori St. James steps up to Slamm smoothing out a wrinkle on the hem of her sundress.

Curtis Slamm dressed in his full wrestling gear puts his arms around Tori.

"Because I have you by my side."

A blushing Tori presses up against Slamm, smiles, and runs her fingers through Slamm's hair, fixing it up. While she does that, Slamm adjusts his robe.

Tori steps back.

"You're going to be great."

"My Champion!"

Slamm flashes a half smile.

Tori gazes at Slamm who is looking off in the distance.

"What is it Curtis?"

Slamm stares at Tori for a moment, almost says something but instead he leans forward and kisses her on her forehead.

"HAIL TO THE CHIEF" begins blast from the arena PA as the curtain in front of them raises up. A rush of pyro smoke dances up around the couple before Slamm and Tori step out onto the stage. They look at one another and share a small, quick kiss. They turn and step out and within seconds a ton of flashes and rafter lights engulf them while the roar of the crowd is deafening.

"Mr. Slamm, Mr. Slamm?"

Slamm comes too, shakes his head, and wipes at his mouth.

"Do you want me to call ahead to someone? Your press agent?"

Slamm shifts again in his seat and smiles.

"I'm not in any hurry to get there."

"Very well sir. It shouldn't be much longer but I will let you know if they radio that something changes."

Slamm nods and the window raises back up.

He digs into his pocket and produces his cell phone. As he flips it open, he freezes, and a smile creeps across his face.

"Curtis, Curtis?"

Slamm turns away from his locker and lowers the towel he's using to wipe down his body.

"Hey Janelle, good to see you. I'd hug you babe but I just got done with my match."

A younger Janelle wanders up, her business suit is replaced by a tight fitting t-shirt and jeans, a backstage pass drapes around her neck, a headset dangles, and a clipboard presses up against her chest.

Slamm's attention is focused to her immediate left.

"Actually I wanted to intro-"

"Decent job out there."

Shane Brandon steps forward, dressed in his ring gear and dawning a wide-eyed smirk from ear to ear.

"I mean, for a squash. Although you did look a little sloppy on that kick spot."

"-duce you to Shane Brandon."

Janelle awkwardly smiles.

Slamm chuckles, slightly amused, and goes back to wiping down. Holding the towel up at his face Slamm extends his hand.

"Nice to meet you."

Brandon gives it a good stare, hesitating for a moment but then he throws out his hand and gives Slamm a firm, tugging shake.

Before he even releases the shake Brandon turns to Janelle.

"I have a spot in next week's taping, right?"

A rattled Janelle, comes to and pulls down her clipboard. She runs her finger down the page with Brandon leaning over and almost on top of her.

"Yeah Shane you are...

She points to the page and leans back.

"...right here."


Brandon straightens up and glares at Slamm with his game face.

"Well maybe I'll see you in warm-ups and show you how to sell that kick, huh, big guy?"

Slamm chuckles again and turns back to his locker, smiling and shaking his head.

Brandon wanders out.

Janelle and Slamm share an awkward moment of silence. Slamm throws down his towel and turns back to his locker.

Tori rushes in. Slamm turns and Tori jumps into his arms.

"Curtis, I got it."

Curtis pulls her away, excited.

"The Playboy spread?"


Slamm explodes, scoops her into his arms, and she squeals as he lifts her off the ground with a bear hug.

When he sets Tori down, she notices Janelle standing there and reels in her excitement.

"Hi Janelle."

"Hi Tori, congratulations."

"Oh, thanks. Were you guys talking about next week's show?"

"Oh no, I just brought over Shane Brandon to introduce him."

Slamm rolls his eyes.

"Cocky fucker, that kid."

Tori laughs.

"Hmm, I am guessing you liked him."

"Not a chance, I don't trust guys like that."

"It sounds like to me you just met your best friend."

Tori smiles.

"Yeah, right or maybe my worst nightmare. This guy is a piece of work Tori."

"Well Janelle thought highly of the both of you to make the introduction personally."

Janelle nods and smiles.

"I do."

"All right, well, for your sake Janelle I'm keeping one eye open on that guy."

Janelle and Tori start laughing.


"Tori said the exact same thing when she met you."

The two ladies look at each other and in unison say, "BEST FRIENDS." They shake their heads in agreement and giggle a bit.

Slamm chuckles as he gazes out the window.

Slamm's cell phone ring chimes with "HAIL TO THE CHIEF" and Slamm puts it to his ear.

"Hey Janelle. No I haven't called him. I'm still sitting in the celebrity train wreck line from hell. Look I told you already, Shane and I know where we stand. I appreciate it, I do, but whatever THEY say I will deal with it. They had their chance, now it's my time. I don't have to discuss it. Okay, I'll see you inside probably. I doubt we will run into each other out there, you know how these red carpets are. Cool."

Slamm hangs up his phone and lowers the window. The driver perks up.

"Can't we jump the curb or something?"

"Not unless you want the security van to ram into us and then have 40 guys in SWAT gear pull us out of the car and beat the crap out of us."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Pick up his head I want to see his face."

Smoke bellows from a dark silhoute of a man standing in the shadows.

"You've fucked with me for the last time Slamm. I just gave your contract to the FHW. You can be their problem now."

A dirty, bloody knuckled hand grips a handful of Slamm's hair and yanks his head back. Slamm's face is bloodied and bruised.

In the parking lot of the reminence of the bar that used to be known as the Outlaw Slamm is on his knees being held by about three guys.

Slamm sticks his chin up and grits his teeth.

"Fuck you...Ash!"

"Mr. Slamm we are here."

Slamm shakes out of a daze and straightens out his tuxedo as the far door flips open.

Slamm wiggles out into the blinding flashbulbs and screaming fans once again.

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