| [The crew
has just readied the ring for the next two tournament matches, when suddenly, the lights
fade to black as the crowd wonders amongst themselves what exactly is going on now. A
familiar voice to the everyday wrestling fan begins speaking over the PA system: “He came... he saw... and he pissed on your wounds.” The crowd stands roaring, recognizing this as BronX Williams’
catchphrase. The hardcore melodramatic tune of “Busted” by matchbox twenty
begins blaring over the speakers. The lights (still out) come on along with a huge blast
of fireworks. BronX stands at the top of the entrance ramp, the fans are going insane.
Nearly every fan in the arena will have little to no voice tomorrow due to the ovation
they are handing forth to the man named Ben Williams, but called BronX. He is
sporting a pair of black ADIDAS button-ups and a black skintight beater. His 7 foot
1 stature and 350 pound frame seems to cast a shadow upon the entire arena. Looking out
into the masses of fans, he begins to fiddle with the goatee on his chin, and slides his
fingers through his braided hair. He takes his first step towards the ring and walks
down the ramp at a medium speed. BronX slaps some fans’ hands, and climbs into the
ring. With a mighty roar and a raising of the fist, he captures the crowd’s attention
even more. He gets a mic and waits a few moments before giving the fans what they all
want: words.] BronX: Madison Square Garden, I want everyone in this whorehole, and everyone at home to SING TO MEEEE!!!! [The crowd goes insane, and BronX smiles. The grin that has become a trademark of his, not necessarily a wide grin, but a grin that screams out: “tha best”. He strides over to one of the turnbuckles and perches himself on it, then he goes on speaking.]BronX: IWL, Internet Wrestling League. Abode to the elite. Best of the best. MY new home. [More huge pops from the fans, BronX doesn’t really show much of a response to their cheers, he is staring off into space, perhaps imagining just how far he will go in this federation. He seemingly comes to his senses and begins speaking again.]BronX: I’ve been gettin offers from so many places, I can’t even begin to count them, so why did I come to IWL? It’s not a real hard thing to see, talent. This place has got talent flowing like the ohio river, and I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna make myself a part of that talent. sooner then later, of course, beating all the talent there is to offer. It’s an actuality that I will garner everybelt at one time or another by the time I’m finished here. Minus the lightweight title, I could care less about that itsy bitsy piece o’tin. Let it be known that I may joke around outside of the ring, but as you all shall come to see-in the ring, I’m nothing but business. [BronX gives a cold glare into the camera. One that expresses just how serious he is. He goes on.] BronX: Who do I have my sites set on right now? Could it be Willoughby? No, too stupid. Ironside? No, too much of a waste of time. Ian Rictor? Sounds damn good to me. Rictor, me and you, July 27th in a normal, old-school match. Simple ring, no cage over it, no barbwire on the ropes. Just skill against skill. Do I have a deal? I expect to get a response. If I don’t, I hunt you down. IWL, once all is said and done, people will look at me and state: “He came, he saw and he pissed on their wounds.” [BronX drops the mic and raises a fist to a chorus of cheers. He slowly makeshis way to the back, yet the crowd cheer for a few more seconds even after he has ridded himself of the screen.] LT: You're the Insider, Axel... give us the scoop on this guy. AF: You guys rely on me for _everything_. Well, BronX Williams, last I remember reading about him and seeing him, was one half of the tag team "Trouble 'N Terror" with Brock Stevens, in the ICWA. And he was given a presidential spot, so he had to vacate the Television Title-- one that he'd beaten a guy that happened to be hiked up on 'roids. This ties even deeper, though... NR: How's that? AF: Our friend BronX vacated the Television Title to none other than the IWL's own Jeff Gaudet. And his partner, Brock, was facing off against the ICWA World Champion, Chris Davison, in a PPV main event that never happened. And the pasts of Gaudet, Davison, Stevens and Williams go far enough that I don't wanna bother gettin' into them. LT: Sheesh, you're tellin' me. MJ: THE FOLLOWING CONTEST IS A TRIPLE-THREAT MATCHUP FOR ADVANCEMENT IN THE IWL WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE TOURNAMENT... INTRODUCING FIRST! HE IS THE SELF-PROCLAIMED "KING OF SUPLEXES"... RYAN DELASHAW! [Ryan cockily walks out, followed by the many women he has as valets. Along the way, he taunts the crowd, who jeer him mercilessly. Just as he slides into the ring, "Break Down the Walls" is heard.] MJ: HIS OPPONENT... WEIGHING IN AT THREE HUNDRED AND TEN POUNDS... OLIVER "SHADOW" BUCHANAN! [The big man hauls it into the ring, sliding in and immediately hammering Ryan, who retorts with his own rights and lefts. Then, "Higher" by Creed hits the speakers, and Jeff Gaudet appears at the top of the ramp. He takes his time getting there, but then he reaches the ring apron, and steps over the top. Buchanan and Delashaw turn to him at the same time and both go down due to a heavy double clothesline. ***DING DING DING***] LT: I'd like to remind the viewers at home that in a triple threat, or in an IWL triple threat, there's no such thing as disqualifications. NR: The participants know, as well... and you can bet it'll show! LT: Gaudet and Buchanan battling it out, and Ryan with a shoulder tackle to Gaudet! Delashaw hooks Gaudet's arms from behind in a full nelson, DRAGON SUPLEX! ONE! Broken up by Buchanan and his kick to Gaudet's ribs! Ryan holds as Buchanan levels Gaudet's chest and stomach! NR: Cheap as it may be, it's brilliant strategy, and it slowly eliminates Jeff Gaudet's chances at winning this thing. LT: Yeah, and now Buchanan has Gaudet scooped up, RIB BREAKER! Ouch, and Ryan Delashaw with the followup knee drop! NR: This is a systematic dismantling of Gaudet! AF: Yeah, isn't it great? LT: It's taking both of them, but they have placed Gaudet on the turnbuckle in a superplex position... oh, this is gonna be painful! Ryan Delashaw has a table and he's just placed it for the landing pad for the superplex attempt that Buchanan is about to make! Wait... Ryan climbs up too! Ryan and Buchanan are planning a double superplex attempt... [MEGA POP] MY GOD! RYAN WAS JUST THROWN TO THE OUTSIDE AND INTO THE BARRICADE! THAT STEEL BENT ON CONTACT! AND GAUDET HAS FOUND ENOUGH STRENGTH TO CONVERT THIS SUPERPLEX INTO THE DEATH FROM ABOVE! [IMMENSE POP] AF, NR, & LT: HOLY SH(bleep)T! [No one is moving, but the crowd is going berserk. Their chants alternate between "HOLY SHIT!" and "IWL! IWL!"] LT: GAUDET IS STIRRING, BUT RYAN AND OLIVER AREN'T MOVING! GAUDET PITCHES AN ARM OVER THE CHEST OF BUCHANAN! ONE! TWO!! THREE!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, THAT ONE REVERSAL MADE THE MATCH! [Nick, Lance, and Axel are all shown at the commentary table, with Nick and Lance in awe and Axel smiling and watching the replay over and over.] NR: This goes right back to the days of Kevin Sash's crash through the Hell in the Cell cage, and definitely Jack Damocles' crash into the fire cage! AF: I'm seeing a pattern... LT: Heh, he has a point. But anyway, if we can get that horrendous image out of our minds... [By now, EMTs have taken out Buchanan and Delashaw managed to walk up the aisle alone. Even Mike Jackson seems confused, but continues to announce the next match.] MJ: Ahem... LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE FOLLOWING CONTEST IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL, AND IS FOR ADVANCEMENT IN THE IWL WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNAMENT! FIRST... HE HAILS FROM LAS VEGAS, NEVADA AND CALLS HIMSELF THE "PRODIGY OF PERFECTION"... MAY I INTRODUCE TO YOU, CRRRRAAAIG, SILLLLLLLLVAAAA! ["Biggest and the Best" by Clawfinger hits the speakers, and signals the arrival of the moderately-fresh Craig Silva. He gloats some more, and looks to enjoy the round of boos that he receives from the intense crowd.] LT: The fans really dislike this guy. AF: I was waiting for the next one. Obvious statement, that is. MJ: AND HIS OPPONENT... HE CALLS HIMSELF "THE BODY" AND IS THE MASTER OF THE SMOKIN' BODY... BRRRRRYCE CONNNNNNNNERRRRR! [Even more boos and jeers erupt. Bryce walks out with his valet, Heidi, this time waiting for his introduction to begin the match. He steps up and into the ring, eyeing Craig Silva warily. Then... as the crowd watches them, a familiar theme plays that blows the roof off of the arena.] MJ: THEIR OPPONENT... ["More Human Than Human" is the theme, now recognizable.] MJ: WEIGHING IN AT TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY FIVE POUNDS... [The curtains part to a huge ovation.] MJ: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN... DAAAAAAN... SLAAAAAATE! [Slate storms down the aisle, looking intense and totally focused. As soon as he slides in, Silva and Conner put double stomps to him. They Irish whip him to the ropes as the bell rings. **DING DING DING**] NR: Double backdrop on Slate! Silva and Conner are working him over with fists, and hard ones at that! Up again, Silva to the top, Conner with a powerbomb, SILVA WITH THE MOONSAULT! Wow, and Silva stays on for the cover! LT: But not much of one, Conner kicked him off! Silva and Conner in a dispute, Silva boots him and a DDT! NR: There're no such thing as permant alliances in wrestling, and especially when the IWL World Heavyweight Title is on the line! LT: Silva lifts Conner and scoops him up, and delivers a front slam in front of the turnbuckle... he ascends to the top rope, but Slate's up! He hooks Silva, [POP] DAN SLATE SUPERPLEXED CRAIG SILVA _ONTO_ BRYCE CONNER! HE COVERS CONNER! ONE! TWO!! Kick out! NR: Any way you slice it, that's innovation! And Slate is pulling Silva up, FLAPJACK! Slate turns to the now-risen Conner, PILEDRIVER! Slate is a house on fire! LT: And it's working! He whips Silva to the ropes, Silva leapfrogs Slate's powerslam attempt, he slides under Slate's legs on the return, waistlock takedown, standing switch into an armbar, Slate takes out the legs of Silva, and Conner makes his presence felt with a knee drop to Silva's midsection! Slate stands and gives a scoop slam to Conner, and applies a sitdown sleeper! NR: And Silva's back up, through cradling his stomach... he boucnes off the ropes, [POP] A FRONT DROPKICK WITH A FOOT TO EACH FACE FOR SLATE AND CONNER! LT: Silva hooks Conner and delivers a snap fisherman's suplex, and rolls through with another! He rolls through again, FISHERMAN BUSTER! CONNER HAS BEEN DROPPED ON HIS HEAD! NR: And Silva now hooks Dan Slate, whips him to the ropes, spinning heel kick! Slate down and Silva with a standing moonsault! ONE! TWO!! Kick out by Slate! LT: Slate's the ring veteran, but Silva's probably the fresher man! And now, Silva applies a standing figure-four leglock! NR: Dan Slate grabs the ropes, but Silva hangs on! LT: He's smart-- no DQ in this match either! NR: Slate's smarter-- he just used the ropes to turn it over and he's now exerting pressure with rope leverage! LT: Conner breaks it up! He's stomping at both the legs of Slate and Silva! Definite advantage to Conner as he applies a half-crab to Slate! NR: Slate's down, but Silva starts laying into the head of Conner with heavy boots! Conner to his feet, Silva boots him and gutwrenches him... [HUGE POP] SILVABACK! [Inverted Tommy-hawk] LT: SLATE! SLATE SPINEBUSTERS SILVA! LAST DITCH AND SLATE FLOPS TO THE SIDE, BUT HIS ARM LANDED ON CONNER! ONE! TWO!! THREE!! DAN SLATE MAKES IT TO THE FINALS! ["More Human Than Human" by White Zombie hits the speakers, and Dan rolls out of the ring, leaving Silva and Conner in the ring to shake off the damage done with the trademark maneuvers.] NR: So our big main event is set! The newcomer, Jeff Gaudet, vs. the legend, Dan Slate. But now, the IWL World Television Title is to be decided in a four-way battle royal! LT: The Television Title has been referred to as the fighting champion's title-- AF: And it's been referred to as the sh(bleep)ttiest title in the industry. LT: --just because it's defended at every televised event. Let's go now to the match... I think that we're ready to start! NR: I hope as much... MJ: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN... THE FOLLOWING CONTEST IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL! FIRST, A NEWCOMER TO THE IWL RING... INTRODUCING ONE HALF OF TOTAL HYSTERIA... HUUUUUDSONNNNNN! [The pop for this man is moderate, but large considering his rookie status. He appears and runs down to the ring, sliding in and jumping atop the turnbuckles to pump up the crowd.] MJ: AND HIS OPPONENT... ["Symphony of Destruction" by Megadeth wavers into the air, and Onslaught in his odd glory steps out. Synthetic flashes of lightning litter the arena as he makes his way to the ring.] MJ: WEIGHING IN AT FOUR HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE POUNDS... ONSLAUGHT! [Just as he slides into the ring, the Advisary's theme music hits, with blue and green flashing lights. He walks down the aisle and steps between the second and top ropes, keeping a wary eye on Onslaught.] MJ: THEIR OPPONENT... WEIGHING IN AT TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY THREE POUNDS... THE ADVISARY! [Finally, "Pin Me Down" by Clawfinger hits the speakers to signal the arrival of Ian Rictor, who walks down to the ring, intent on winning the match to prove his skill. As soon as he slides in, the bell rings, and Hudson tackles Onslaught, driving at him. They both begin brawling out of the ring.] NR: And Onslaught and Hudson battling to the outside, and a sure countout if they don't start realizing that referee Hunter is applying the count! LT: And Ian Rictor with the boots to the Advisary, he spins him about and grabs his head, RICTOR SCALE! [Spin Doctor] It's over, but Hunter is counting out Onslaught and Hudson! Ian is waiting for the count, but nothing! NR: And Ian is up and yelling at Hunter, who's up to eight as Hudson piledrivers Onslaught on the steel! Hunter yells back, nine, and Ian grabs him, demanding he count the pinfall on the Advisary! Ten! MJ: ONSLAUGHT AND HUDSON HAVE BEEN ELIMINATED! NR: And Rictor covers, Hunter's counting! ONE! TWO!! THRE-NO! THE ADVISARY KICKED OUT OF THE PIN! LT: Amazing, Nick, and Rictor is infuriated! The Advisary's up, Rictor's back is to him... GERMAN SUPLEX! ROLLS THROUGH, GERMAN SUPLEX AGAIN! ROLLS THROUGH SNAP GERMAN SUPLEX THAT LEAVES IAN RICTOR STUNNED! NR: What a move! The Advisary pulls Rictor up, vertical suplex... INTO A FRONT FACE DDT! HE ROLLS HIM OVER FOR THE COVER! ONE! TWO!! KICK OUT! Rictor just managed a kickout! LT: And now, the Advisary is up, but Rictor brings him down with a shoulderblock to the knee! With the Advisary down, an elbow to the neck! Another! Wow, what a strategy! NR: Rictor jerks the Advisary to his feet... hooks, I think he's looking for the Rictor Scale again... he twists... [POP] THE ADVISARY JUST COUNTERED! THE ADVISARY TOOK THE NECK WHIPPING, BUT DELIVERED A REVERSE DDT! LT: NEITHER MAN IS MOVING! RICTOR STIRS! RICTOR IS MOVING FOR THE TURNBUCKLES! HE'S UP ON TOP OF THEM! HE'S GOING FOR THE ACT OF GOD! [Flying Elbow] WAIT! NR: WHILE RICTOR'S BACK IS TURNED, THE ADVISARY GRABS HIM IN A WAISTLOCK! HE HIT OVER THE EDGE! IAN RICTOR HAS GONE OVER THE EDGE! [German Suplex with a bridge from the top] LT: THE BRIDGE! ONE! TWO!! THREE!!! THE ADVISARY IS THE NEW IWL TELEVISION CHAMPION!! [The Advisary proudly takes the title he has just won, and slides out of the ring, holding it high. He staggers down the ramp and to the back, while Ian Rictor stares after him, angrily.] |
