[As we return from commercial...] Conarri: A pitched battle between four great tag teams. taking place a few moments ago, wrestling fans, and those are some guys who don't especially get the credit they deserve. Vicious n’ Delicious can’t buy respect these days, but here's a message for the OLW locker room: don't let these guys fly under your radar, or they'll sneak right up on you and take whatever championship title you've from you. Stanton: You know who else doesn't get the credit they deserve? Conarri: Let me guess. You? Stanton: Well, that's true - I'm entertaining and sexy, and therefore deserve to get paid twice as much. But I was talking about the man who's walking through the back door to this place right now - TJ KILLINGBECK! [We cut instantly away...] Raaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! [... to where Killingbeck's coming through the back door of the arena, a black toque pulled down to his eyebrows and dark wrap-around sunglasses over his eyes. Hauling his wrestling gear in a bag over his shoulder, he stands clad in grey camouflage pants and a black Jo Dee Mecina tee reading MY GIVE A DAMN'S BUSTED across the front. Looking around this foreign soil without much apparent interest, Killingbeck makes his way down a hallway...] Killingbeck [mumble-singing to himself]: St. Peter dont'cha call me 'cause I can't go... I sold my soul to the company sto -- RAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! [... before being stopped by Kai Scott. The leader of the CAL Union steps out of a doorway, stopping Killingbeck in his tracks as he holds up his hand, the tips of his fingers poking TJ in the chest lightly. As the fans scream, TJ looks down at the fingers before looking up to the pleasantly-held features of Scott. Kai withdraws the hand.] Scott: Ahh, the CAL Union's favorite lieutenant. Where've you been? Killingbeck [chewing a wad of bubblegum]: In my truck, masturbating to a picture of your mother. What's it to you? Scott: Just didn't think for awhile there that you were gonna make it tonight. That's all. Killingbeck: Yeah. Well, I decided to come. I'm here. Scott [pausing]: Was there a doubt in your mind that you would be? Killingbeck: I don't miss wrestling dates. Scott: And you don't miss out on matches against the CAL Authority either, I imagine. Killingbeck: Actually, I've arbitrarily decided to stop caring about that. Scott: ... come again? Killingbeck: I would, if I could get another picture of your mother. The long and short of it is that I've decided to stop giving a damn about who's running the CAL and why and for how long. Rodden, Andrews, Richards, Bishop... s'all the same in the end. Why should we even care anymore? [TJ waves a hand at the camera, breaking the 'fourth wall.] They don't care. Seen the ratings 'round the CAL lately? We're all but done, thanks to the CAL Authority - in whatever form it's taken - and no match is going to change that. Scott [eyes gleaming a little]: Is that a fact? Killingbeck [shrugging]: If Bishop wants to do things her way, that's fine. If you want to take over and run it your way, whatever. Nothing I can do about any of that. But you people can fuck it up on your own time and count me out, and you can stop plugging me into these matches after tonight. In the end, the new boss is the same as the old, and whether or not I work for the nastiest bitch in pro wrestling or a guy with the Kanji symbol for 'traitor' tattooed on him is all the same to me. It doesn't matter if the CAL Authority controls the system or the CAL Union controls the system, because the system's broken and nobody's fixing it. [TJ slaps Kai on the shoulder in a mock brotherly fashion.] Killingbeck: Enjoy your war, Kai. I'm done with it. Scott: Just be sure you're out there with the rest of us when the time's right, pally-boy. Kai Scott's makin' history tonight. Killingbeck: Referring to yourself third-person now, I see. Yeah, that's a good sign... [TJ pushes past Kai, moving down the hallway.] Scott: My mother’s ugly, dude… you don’t know what you’re saying. [Killingbeck doesn’t respond. Scott watches him go, one hand touching his chin thoughtfully.] [Back at ringside...] Conarri: Hmmm... Stanton: Yeah, not like TJ to just give up like that! Conarri: Well, he's always been a 'CAL man' more than a representative of any one of it's factions, Les. It must hurt to see Bishop and Scott tearing it apart. I guess we'll see later tonight in the ring for that ten-man main event.... but in the meantime, I know eight guys that are also going to tear things up, and we're just about set for tag team action here! Vicious n' Delicious, The Red Axis, The Regulators and The Red Axis are about to get into the same ring at the same time, and only one team is going to emerge victorious here. Stanton: So, basically like every other wrestling match, then. Conarri:.... Stanton: What? Conarri: …let’s just get started with the next match, OK? Top Dollar vs Charles Scott [Puttin’ on the Ritz by Taco picks up over the speakers as Top Dollar, accompanied by Terrance. His entrance is chorused with boo’s from the crowd.] Conarri: Here’s Top Dollar now, coming off of several hard losses including his shot at the CAL Championship. Stanton: But you can’t keep a good man down Cito. He’s rich! Conarri: I don’t think being rich makes you win matches though Leslie. [Dollar’s theme is cut off by Morning Glory by Oasis. The crowd cheers for the gimmick-less Charles Scott as he makes his descent to the ring.] [Top Dollar meets him as he enters the ring, dropping him to the canvas with a running elbow smash. The official calls for the bell to get the match underway and Dollar takes initiative, bringing Scott to his feet and whipping him to the ropes. Scott ducks a clothesline and rebounds off the opposite ropes.] Conarri: Charles Scott with a running DDT that definitely caught Dollar off guard [Scott is up quick, laying into Top with some kicks to the back. Dollar slides out of the ring to collect himself. Scott sees opportunity and runs toward the ropes, launching himself over in a corkscrew dive. Top Dollar, however, is lucky that Terrance sees it and pushes him out of the way – catching the front of the blow in the process.] Stanton: Terrance caught all of that one, Cito [Dollar wastes no time, assisting Scott to his feet before bouncing his head off of the steel steps once before sliding him into the ring. The official chastises him but Dollar dances it off before DDTing Scott and gloating once more.] Conarri: Top Dollar certainly seems to be back to his old self. [The gloating gives Scott enough time to get his wits about him and groggily get to his feet. Dollar turns right into an Enziguri that knocks him for a loop. Scott goes on the offensive, landing a neckbreaker and a snap suplex before setting up for a DDT. He stalls for just one second…] Conarri: Low Blow! Stanton: Johnny Cage Low Blow, if you want to get technical Cit. [That’s right – Dollar did a split and hit a low blow to get out of the impending DDT. Scott reels in pain as Dollar dances through the referee’s angered warning, kicking Scott in the ribs a few times in between steps. At the end of his little dance routine, Dollar does a double knee drop into the chest of Scott, who writhes in pain once more.] Conarri: This isn’t going good for Charles Scott [After a little more dancing, and a lot more boos from the crowd, Top Dollar brings Scott to his feet and whips him to the ropes. The desired effect was far from what actually happened, and had he known what would happen he’d probably have never even considered it.] SMACK!!! Stanton: They just cracked heads in the middle of the ring Cit, and I don’t think either of them is conscious! [Indeed, both men were dodging attacks from each other when Charles Scott was coming back off of the ropes. Unfortunately for both of them, they moved in the same direction to dodge.] 1!!! [Terrance moves around the ring, looking shifty as usual.] 2!!! [Not much sign of anyone getting up.] 3!!! [Indeed Top Dollar is now moving slightly.] 4!!! [Terrance jumps up on the ring apron, protesting the count, and the official turns his attention to getting Terrance out of the picture. Top reaches out of the ring next to the turnbuckle and brings in a folded chair.] Conarri: Not like this, this isn’t the way to win. Stanton: maybe he just wants to sit down, Cit. [Dollar stands up, Scott now using the ropes to get to his feet. Dollar pounds the chair against the mat a few times, signalling that he’s going to take Scott’s head clean off.] Conarri: Charles Scott is finally on his feet, and he doesn’t even see it coming… [Dollar takes one step toward Scott as he turns around, and then gently tosses the chair to him. Scott, taken off guard, catches the chair. Dollar hits the ground.] Stanton: What the? [Terrance starts pointing erratically and yelling at the official, before the mic picks up “HE’S GOT A CHAIR!”. The official turns around and notices, and the outcome is impeccable for Top Dollar.] DING DING DING! Conarri: Top Dollar won by disqualification, and this is just … just… I don’t even have the words to describe it Leslie. He cheated, and got Charles Scott disqualified for having a chair he didn’t even get himself. Styles: That was awesome. In other news, how come I didn’t get to say anything during this entire match? Conarri: You’d have wasted your own oxygen. Dollar gets back on the winning track, putting the OLW Mid Atlantic Champion away. [Backstage.] [Angelina Bishop’s office.] [We’ve arrived in the middle of a confrontation.] [Angelina Bishop sits behind her desk, her eyes locked on Kai Scott. Scott, standing in front of the desk, meets her gaze with equal intensity. Two armed security guards flank Bishop – other than that, the room is empty. No wrestlers are present.] Bishop: …so as I was explaining, Kai, this situation does not have to end with the death of either the CAL or Old Line Wrestling. Your true issue, as we’ve been through before, is with Canadian Rockies Wrestling… Scott: And as we’ve been through before, Angie, I don’t give a damn about CRW. The only thing I give a damn about is dismantling the system that’s been ruining the CAL for the past four years. It’s just your bad luck that you happened to be the head of that system at the time I decided something needed to be done. [Bishop is the first to break the eye contact between the two masterminds. Picking a pen up off her desk, she turns it over in her hands a few times.] Bishop: You have to remember, Kai, that the reason you were able to cause me such problems was because I didn’t know the nature of your contract. Now, I do – and as OLW President, that means you’re under my authority. [Kai shrugs, effecting indifference.] Scott: So I am. Now make me care. [Bishop looks back up at him.] Scott: You gotta realize, Bish – my shit isn’t ruined. It isn’t even close. The fact that I’m OLW President isn’t going to get rid of the Union. Hell, it even means I can fire any wrestler from OLW that starts sympathizing with the CRW – and extend contract offers to any CRW wrestlers that are fed up with you and Richards. [Bishop places the pen down on the desk with a thump.] Bishop: It also means that I can order you to get I the ring, Kai. [Scott’s face darkens.] Scott: So you can offer me up to Heidi, right? Angie, for that to be an effective threat, you have to assume I’m scared of her. Which I’m not. If Heidi wants a singles match with me, I’ll be glad to make it the most painful night of her life. Well, second most painful, assuming I can’t get my hands on another kendo stick… Bishop: I think, Kai, that you’ll find it most difficult to do that if Ultra Raptor’s in the match as well. Scott: You’re threatening me with a handicap match? [Bishop nods. Scott whistles.] Scott: Heidi AND Raptor. Well, that IS a threat. I guess I’ll just have to publicly offer a large salary bonus to the first person that can kick their asses enough to put them back on the shelf… wow, it’s a good thing that I’m the OLW President and that I have the financial means to do that, isn’t it? [Bishop glares. Scott glares back.] [We fade.] Tracie Ferraro: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome at this time, escorted by Duchess Marissah Whitely Lancaster, he is "The Destroyer of Worlds"...AVARICE! [The arena lights switch off, leaving only a red spotlight at the entry way. Nine Inch Nails' "Dead Souls" begins.] # Someone take these dreams away # [Marissah Whitely Lancaster steps out, her hair is done elaborately. Her dress appears to be pure silk; it is strapless, and flows down her figure, with along slit cut up the side of the leg. She wears high heel boots with black leather straps wrapping all up her legs.] # They keep calling me # [Avarice steps out as Marissah stands to the side, his eyes covered in the latest Ray-Bans. He wears a light khaki suit with a white unbuttoned Oxford shirt, the Chain of Nobility dangling around his neck.] # The figures from the past stand tall # [He begins to slowly make his way down the aisle, as the fans stand and watch his approach, Marissah walking slowly behind him with equal silence. ] # Keep on calling me # [Avarice enters the ring and stands at its centre, the red spotlight trained on him. Moments later, the arena lights return to their normal state, as Avarice removes his shades to reveal his red coloured eyes. Marissah bends out to take a microphone and hands it to her man who stands silently in the centre of the ring.] Styles: And there stands the man who is destined to hold the OLW Championship! Conarri: And how much did he pay you to say that? Styles: Ten...nothing. Stanton: He's right, and he paid me nothing to say that. [Avarice absorbs the boos as his wife looks on with spite at the what she deems "plebes."] Avarice: Greetings and salutations to you all...and blessings for you stand in the presence of the "Evolution of Essence," the man of destiny who is to overcome all obstacles and stand tonight at the top of the heap who are our opponents...and our teammates. [The fans don't take kindly to his supposed arrogance.] Conarri: There is definitely no "I" in teammates with Avarice - he holds them all in contempt. Avarice: Tonight is to be yet another night of history in our sport. Team Bishop versus Team Union. Ultimately, meaningless. Ultimately a grouping of automotons that we have been thrown into to fight a battle which only holds importance for me if it should happen to advance my interests in any way. Whomever wins - is a matter of indifference to me. We SHALL stand out and throw our hands around the throat of those who stand in our way. So a warning to any and all of you. Have at us, the "Destroyer of Worlds." And this goes doubly so to a man not present tonight but whom we know is listening. To Seamus Finnegan. Avarice: Finnegan. We know you are but a shell of a man now. You are now even less than nothing. And when you finally re-discover your spine, then, you shall be ready to step back into this ring and meet your ultimate destiny...one that only we... [At that moment out of no where, the lights in the arena went off. Yet again out of no where...] Conarri: WAIT a minute. I recognize that...that's Avarice's old entrance theme! Stanton: What the hell is going on here? [Beethoven's "Ninth Choral Symphony" resounds and under a single spot light stands a woman dressed chicly, in a black skirt that runs to her knee and a light pink tank top.] Styles [excitedly]: THAT'S HIS EX-WIFE!! Stephanie Lancaster-Dynasty!! Conarri: WHAT a shock!! The fans are going wild! Stanton: And Marissah is going ballistic in the ring. [It is indeed the ex-wife of Avarice and former Duchess of Wessex, Lady Stephanie Erin Lancaster-Dynasty standing under the spotlight, a microphone in hand, as Beethoven booms. She smiles and waves gently to the fans as they give her a near standing ovation.] [The lights of the arena return to their normal level as Stephanie smiles right at Avarice and his wife. The latter has a homicidal look of disgust on her face. Avarice merely frowns and breathes heavily.] Conarri: Avarice isn't saying or doing a thing. But you know he has to be violently upset inside. Stanton: I would be too if some golddigger ex-wife was probably out here trying to beg her way back into his wallet, erm, heart. [Stephanie finally speaks.] Stephanie: What's wrong, Robert? And yes...I am talking to Robert [with emphasis] not this man I see in the ring right now. I don't know who you are. You're a bit fatter, or is that muscle? And you've shaved your head. Quite the dramatic transformation. But as I said. I'm talking to you Robert [she points]. And I hope you listen well. I know you're there somewhere. And I hope you realize what it is you've become, and whom you've sold your soul too. [The fans don't miss her insinuations whatsoever as Marissah seeths with anger.] Stephanie: But I'm not out here to have some philosophical discussion with what I see to be a shell of a man. I'm going to let someone else do the talking. [Once more the lights dim and "Snake Charmer" by the Mahones begins to play. The fans once again stand to their feet knowing it can only be one man.] Conarri: HE'S HERE! Styles: Dude, remember what I said about the shouting? It happened THREE YEARS AGO. Stanton: Well it is a bit of a surprise. I'm surprised he has the courage...or perhaps stupidity to come back again. [Seamus Finnegan, the "Irish Assassin," comes out in his usual blood-stained fleece and torn shorts, his long black hair hanging around his unshaven face. He has a look of unmitigated determination as he stares up at his foe.] Seamus: Well, well, well...if it isn't me ol'friend Robbie...sorry, Avarice...unless ye've decided to change yer bloody name again THIS WEEK!!! [The crowd responds in kind with a huge pop for the returning "Irish Assassin."] Seamus: Now, tell me again, just in case I didn't hear that right - see, I've taken ALOT o'chairshots over the years an' my hearin' ain't what it used to be, but just refresh my memory - did ye just call me a 'shell'??? Ye see, I find that a wee bit ironic...kinda like the pot calling the kettle black, so to speak...but then, I may be a 'shell' in yer eyes...but at least I'm not a void! Conarri: Seamus sounding determined yet impassioned. Seamus: Oh aye, I'd rather be a 'shell' o'my former self than somethin' that isn't even close, which is what ye are, lad - yer a void, a nothin' - yer not even worthy o'carryin' or shinin' the boots o'the man I once held the CAL World Tag Team titles with! [The fans give a series of cheers of respect for what was once The Whiskey Devils.] Seamus: Aye, lad...Robert Lancaster II...what does that mean to ye??? Ye see, Robert Lancaster II...was a friend...Robert Lancaster II...was a drinkin' buddy...Robert Lancaster II...was the one third of the most dominant faction in the history of wrestling, THE TRIUMVIRATE!!! Conarri: The fans giving a huge pop to that! Styles: Haven't heard the name "Triumvirate" in a lonnngggg time. Seamus: Robert Lancaster II...was a multi-time champion...Robert Lancaster II...was the man I held the CAL WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP with...an' ye??? Who the feck are ye to tell ME that I'm nothin' but a 'shell' when the man ye once were was all those things...and yer NOTHING??? Stanton: I think it's time for a rebuttal. Styles: Stop staring at his rebuttal Leslie. Stanton: Kiss my rebuttal. [Avarice's expression has not changed one iota. He only stares. Marissah still stares a hole through Stephanie, who returns the look right back.] Avarice: You always were the emotional one. Always pleading and calling upon the emotion of man, whether as an ally or enemy. You know nothing. You are nothing. You attack the unknown which one does not and cannot possibly begin to comprehend. You cannot understand us. This man you and this...wench... [The fans shower Avarice in boos as he smirks and Marissah grins a pleased, wicked smile.] Conarri: Oh COME ON. That's the mother of the man's child! Styles: Ouch. Stanton: He's so great... Avarice: ...speak of. He has evolved to what you see before your eyes. We are above and beyond YOU or any other man in this pathetic league. And that is why WE hold the upper hand in this blood feud. WE know how you live and breathe. WE know how your mind works. Finnegan: you know NOTHING. [Avarice points a finger directly at Seamus.] And lest you forget. ONE strong shot to your head and you are OUT LIKE A LIGHT. [He raises his voice.] TEMPT FATE and see what HAPPENS. [Seamus slowly began to pace, like a caged animal.] Seamus: Tempt fate', aye? Oh aye, lad...and just what fate would that be??? What does 'fate' mean to ye??? See, I already KNOW my fate...I'm at the end of my career, not the beginning...whereas ye, on the other hand...yer in the prime o'yer career...ye've still got years an' years ahead o'ye...but if ye want to 'tempt fate', like ye said...hell, I've got nothin' left to lose, Avarice......an' I'm not afraid o'losin' whatever's left o'me, leavin' whatever I have left to give in the middle o'that ring...an' if it means draggin' yer arse through hell and back many times over...well, I've got one thing to say to that, lad...YOU'RE ON!!! [The crowd jumps to its feet and yells in excitement.] Conarri: Oh God are they serious? Styles: Deadly serious. [Avarice gives a singular nod.] Avarice: On any given day. Of any given week. At any given hour. Any time Finnegan. And Hell and back? You speak with such authority on it. The only Hell we see before our eyes is that woman standing beside you. A shame it's the only woman to speak of who is in your life now. Conarri: Low blow. It's public knowledge now that Seamus and his wife have separated, soon to be divorced. [Seamus lowers his head for a moment, then once again raises the microphone to his mouth.] Seamus: This woman ye speak of...was once yer WIFE...an' she's more woman than THAT WALKIN' VENERIAL DISEASE beside ye will EVER be...an' as fer yer invite, on any given day, at any given hour... [Seamus looks at his watch, then points his shillelagh right at Avarice, staring a cold intense stare right through the former Robert Lancaster], hell, how about RIGHT NOW!! Styles: Here we go!! Stanton: Oooo, this is exciting! But poor Marissah. [Marissah takes the microphone from Avarice's hand and mutters coldly]: Marissah: Destroy the son of a bitch... [The crowd stands to its feet and roars as Seamus begins to chase down the aisle towards the ring. Avarice rolls out and charges out of the ring where the two meet and begin to exchange lefts and rights. Referees flood out of the back with security and immediately dive in to try and pry the two men apart. The fans boo loudly at their efforts.] Conarri: What's started here tonight...I don't know when or where it will be resolved. But it will be. With tremendous consequences for both men. Stanton: Look at Marissah taunting Stephanie who's only a few feet away from her. Styles: If they clash it will be one for the ages. Conarri: Folks we're going to try to regain some semblance of order, but we'll be back. |
Crisis on Outrage continues... |