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| :: Disclaimer :: Yo... This layout was created by someone; but, I slightly modified it a bit. Anyway... I'm givin’ whomever created this, credit! So… thanks, and stuff! :: End Disclaimer :: | ::
[[The scene opens in the backstage area of the arena. It shows Dave Payne walking down a long corridor. The fans, watching on the titon-tron, break out into massive cheers. Payne has a huge grin on his face, psyched that his first televised match is only hours away. As he makes his way around a corner, he comes to a sudden stop when he hears the voice of a couple talking. The camera pans out to see the plaque on the wall reads, “Jeff Richter’s Locker-Room.” Payne sneaks up to the edge of the door, and listens in… with the same huge grin on his face.]]
"It must be hard to watch your father get beat up. After what Dave did to Ric Flair, you want pay back.”
"What is your point, Sara?! If Chris Young sees you here, he will go crazy. I don't need that right now, Sara.”
"You have not been yourself for sometime, Jeff. I think you should take some time off.”
"There is no point for that right now, Sara. I have too many things to get done. Besides that, Sara, I have to beat Dave at SmackDown!”
"I wish you the best of luck, Jeff… at SmackDown! Just be careful in the ring at SmackDown!”
"I am the underdog in this match, Sara. I hear that all the time from the fans and the guys in the locker-room. I have to go and get ready, Sara.”
[[The scene fades to black, and cuts to a commercial, as Dave Payne walks off, laughing and shaking his head is disapproval.]]
…:COMMERCIAL BREAK:…
[[WCWF has come back on the air, there’s been one preliminary match, and Jeff Richter has cut his promo in the ring. After Richter exits the ring, and walks back to the backstage area, WCWF takes, yet again, another commercial break.]]
…:COMMERCIAL BREAK:…
[[WCWF has come back on the air, again… and after circling the arena numerous times, the cameras finally stop, and focus on Michael Cole and Tazz, at ringside.]]
"Thanks for not touching that dial, fans. We’re back… and ready for more action, that can only be described as WCWF.”
"That’s right, Cole! We’ve got some more great matches lined-up for you! Including the “Cage Match” for the United States Title.”
"Not only that, Tazz; but, we’ve also got the match-up between the so-called “Beast” Dave Payne, and “The Warrior” Jeff Richter.”
"You’ve got that right, Cole! It seems as if these two have built-up quite a rivalry. And how couldn’t they?! Payne “Payne Bombed” Richter’s father, Ric Flair, in the middle of the ring a few nights ago! I tell you something, Cole… this man does live up to his nick-name… “The Beast!”
"And, it also seems as if Dave Payne did a little bit of “Eve’s-Dropping” on Richter, earlier on in the night. I wonder if Richter knew anything about that?”
"I don’t think he did, Cole. If he did, he certainly didn’t mention it when he came down to the ring. Maybe he’s jus-“
[[Just then, the lights dim, and Dave Payne’s music blasts throughout the arena. The crowd comes to their feet. Payne makes his way out from behind the curtains as soon as the music kicks up. He stops at the top of the ramp, and does his usual taunting. Then, makes his way down towards the ring.]]
[[Once Payne gets to the ring, he walks over to the steel steps, and slowly ascends them. He walks along the side of the apron. He stares up into the crowd, the climbs into the ring. Instead of heading towards a turnbuckle, to taunt… he walks directly towards the ring announcer, Howard Finkle, and receives a microphone. Payne walks towards the center of the ring, as the lights return to their normal brightness, and his music slowly fades out. The only noise remaining is the cheering crowd. Payne brings the microphone to his lips, and begins speaking… not giving the fans a chance to die down.]]
"The Warrior…” Jeff Richter.” *crowd gives a mixed reaction* “I don’t know about you fans; but, I feel as if I was watching a re-run. Did he really say anything new? I heard him talking in his locker-room to some Sara chick; and all he could keep saying is that he is the “under-dog” in this match. Alright, dude… would you drop the whole, “People think I have no chance in hell at winning this match! But, by God… I am going to give it my all!” routine? It’s gettin’ on my last nerve. Dude, I know you’re not gonna’ give-up easily. And I’m glad! ‘Cuz I don’t want anymore of those ten second matches that I’ve been having recently! I want a match against a certain someone that’s gonna’ give me at least half of a challenge! And by the way you’re talking… you’re probably it. Either that, or… you’re just blowin’ smoke up all these fans’ asses! And if I had to choose one of those, I’d probably say that you’re just blowin’ smoke up all our asses! ‘Cuz in my opinion… you’re all bark… NO BITE! You see, I’ve proven myself in matches so far. I don’t think you’ve proven anything! Except you can put on a one-man Soap Opera all on your own. But that’s beside the point! I don’t know if Flair used you as a wrestling dummy before he gave you up to the orphanage… but somethin’ sure as hell happened to you. ‘Cuz, you don’t really seem all that right up in the head. I think the lights are on up there; but… nobody’s home! You might wanna’ get that checked-out, because you’ve sure got a broken record playin’ up there in that head of yours! You know how I can tell? Let’s see… you’ve repeated you’re case in being the under-dog in this match, I don’t know how many times. You keep claiming that I can give you all the “Payne Bombs” in the world; but, you’ll never quit. You keep saying I can make you bleed, and break every bone in your body; but, that won’t stop you either. Heh! The next thing you’ll say is I could put you out of your misery, shoot you, and that still won’t stop you from winning the match! Face it, dude… you’ve got some mental issues! So, you might wanna’ go to a psychiatrist, and get that fixed quick, fast, and in’na hurry!”
"So, you obviously think I beat-up your father for a reason, huh? Well, part of that’s true; and part of it isn’t. I mean, hell! The goofy little bastard clipped me from behind, and kept on hittin’ me. What the hell else was I suppose to do, dip-shit?! So yeah, I “Payne Bombed” his ass! Partly for me, and to tell you the honest truth… partly for you! I’ll be honest with you, Richter. I’m not really that fond of your goofy ass; but, that whole situation between you and your father, and what he did to you, is totally wrong in my eyes! Any man, or woman, who could just leave and forget about their children, deserve a lot worse than what I did to Ric Flair a couple of night ago!” *fans cheer in agreement* “But, Jeffy Boy.. don’t think for one minute I haven’t forgotten about our match. I’m not gonna’ be takin’ it easy on you. So, don’t get your hopes up, boy! I’m one-hundred percent ready for our match! And I am one-hundred percent ready to beat the hell out of you!” *fans cheer* “And hopefully… shut your “under-dog” ass the hell up, once and for all! And that isn’t some sort of mind game, or a threat. It’s a full-fledged promise! You will be able to walk out of the ring tonight, after I beat you. I’ll give you that much. But, you will definitely feel some sort of “Richter Effect” tomorrow. And no, it won’t be your finishing maneuver; but, if will be from being on the receiving end of one of the most devastating moves in the sport of professional wrestling today… “THE PAYNE BOMB!”
[[Dave Payne drops the microphone, as his music blares over the arena's speakers once more. The crowd goes nuts once more, as Payne climbs the nearest turnbuckle to taunt. The scene fades to black as WCWF takes another commercial break.]]
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