[The back of 'The Gym'. A dusty little loft in the back. It's dark and well, just the perfect place for the huge and often described as "indestructable"... Cap'N Tacks. The huge beast is sitting on the ground, counting, you guessed it; Tacks.] CT: Four-hundred and three prickly partners... [He counts another and drops it in the bag.] CT: Four-hundred and four prickly partners... [He counts another, and drops the whole handful in the bag. He nods to himself, acknowledging that he has enough tacks in his bag.] CT: Life is all about friendship. Partners to the end. Sometimes they cause you unforgettable pain... [Tacks pulls a tack out of the bag and holds it up to his face. The gleam of the silverish color in his eye is almost frightening.] CT: ...sometimes they're there until the last drop of blood has been spilled, and you're the victor. Peaks and valleys. Acceptance. Unconditional love starts with the flow of crimson. [A devious smirk.] Where I find solace... ...you tonight, will find pain Razor. [Tacks puts the single tack down into the bag and seals it up carefully. Treating it as if it's a small child of some sort. Once the bag is sealed, we fade to the H2H logo: Highway To Hell'ena ooooo ooooo .oooo. ooooo ooooo `888' `888' .dP""Y88b `888' `888' 888 888 ]8P' 888 888 888ooooo888 .d8P' 888ooooo888 888 888 .dP' 888 888 888 888 .oP .o 888 888 o888o o888o 8888888888 o888o o888o Highway To Hell'ena :We hear the chants of "HIT", "HIT, "HIT". As we fade into the Carrol College Gym, we see Tim Brock, the new HIT Treasure State Champion, standing in the ring with his title slung over his shoulder. He begins to speak as the chants die down.] TB: Say hello to... [Dramatic pause.] ..._your_ champion. [Crowd heat.] TB: I know I'm jumping the gun a little. I'm not due out here for another two hours or so, but I figured, what would be better than to come out and introduce these fans in Helena to _their_ champion. [More boos.] TB: In two short hours I'm going to step into the ring and do what Rick O'Shay just couldn't do. Actually pack this title with some sort of pride? Well, yeah, that too. However, the number one item on the agenda? [Brock raises one finger.] TB: Title defense number one of _your_ champion. [More crowd heat.] TB: I know you love me, so shut... [Brock stops dead in his tracks and points at a woman and two small children sitting at ringside. A boy and girl. Both under the age of ten. He walks over to the ropes where they're sitting and points at them.] TB: Is that? [Brock steps under the ropes and hops down from the apron. His Treasure State Title slapped across his shoulder.] TB: Mrs. Diamond? [The woman huddles her two kids up in her arms and begins to look for security.] TB: Who's the bastard and cum bucket with ya, mommy Diamond? [The heel heat is raining down. The little boy starts mouthing off at Brock and the fans sitting around them start launching stuff at Brock. Brock rares back like he's going to backhand the little kid...] TB: Shut up you little bastard... Jack isn't even your daddy. [The lady is seething through her teeth as she covers her children's ears. Brock begins to girate his hips and make lewd gestures towards the lady.] TB: You're the only adult Diamond that has't put me over... so come on, put me over, live on TV. The fans want to see you put over _their_ champion just like your old man will tonight! [Smirks.] Well, not just like it. _Your_ champion isn't gay, afterall. [Now the little girl starts mouthing off at Brock.] TB: Don't worry, you'll get your chance when you sprout pubes, whore! [With that... "Outlaw Torn" kicks in on the PA system and Diamond comes tearing down the aisle. He's half-taped up and only half-dressed. He was obviously in the back getting ready when he heard this. Brock sees him and moves into the ring. Diamond immediately checks on his wife and kids... and is handed a mic.] JD: Ya' alright? He touch ya? [Diamond's wife and kids are sobbing... and Diamond turns at Brock and gives him the evil eye. He steps into the ring.] JD: Ya' know... I've had some people try some lowdown, dirty shit in mah' time to get me off my game. But this? This takes the ga'damn cake. You got a problem with me? You speak to me. Ya' got that, punk? [Brock smirks.] TB: What's with this stare? Huh? This more 'dagger eyes'? I'm sooooo scared. [Brock does the "spooky fingers" towards Jack. Diamond scoffs and shakes his head.] JD: Nah, this is the look of man that wants... [As serious as can be.] ...yer' blood. [With that, Jack Diamond rushes in and tackles Brock and the roof blows off the Carrol College gym. The two begin to throw blows and Diamond has the quick upperhand. He picks Brock up and is setting him up for the Cattle Drive, piledriver. He hoists him up and... __SMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAACCKKKKKK!!!__ ...Diamond is hit from behins by a chair shot. Who is it? Tony Dunn!] JP: WHAT ON EARTH IS DUNN DOING OUT HERE? [Brock stands to his feet and eyes Dunn down, unsure of what's going on. But, at the same time, glad he's still in one piece. Dunn throws down the chair and picks up the mic.] TD: That's muh' fuckin' title shot ya got. I'm tired o'ya pulling the rug out from under the Rebel. Ya' done took muh' thunder long enough. [Dunn points at that title.] Come hell er' high water... I'm gettin' a shot at that title tonight. Ya' can betcha' sweet asses on that. [With that Tony Dunn leaves he ring... and we go to the Highway to Helena video package: Cue: 'Jammer Phillips voice-over package'.] VO: The time has come for battle lines to be crossed... [We see photos of the eight men scheduled on tonights card. Rick O'Shay, former HIT Treasure State Champion. Tony Dunn. Jack Varsity. Sean Sixberry. Cap'N Tacks. Ric Razor. Jack Diamond. Current Treasure State Champion... Tim Brock.] VO: A former champion; A challenger thrown aside... [Shots of Tony Dunn throwing chair shot after chair shot into O'Shays scalp at the Blurred Battlelines card. A shot of O'Shay as the ref in the #1 contenders match between Tim Brock and Tony Dunn... only to lock on the Irish Leaf Clover after the match, making Tony Dunn squeal.] VO: A thief; A man robbed [Shots of Jack Varsity planting the brass knuckles on Sean Sixberry at the Blurred Battlelines card. A shot of Jack Varsity proclaiming Greg Freemont was too afraid to face him... Sean Sixberry offering to step in, only to be told Varsity had selected to face Jim Shue. Sixberry quickly comes in in the middle of the match and a brawl ensues. Sixberry costing Varsity his match against Jack Diamond on the "Rise of the Nation" card. Finally, Jack Varsity stealing both Great West Tag straps at the "Night of Champions" card.] VO: A maniac smiling; a nation healing [Shots of Cap'N Tacks coming in from out of nowhere at the "Rise of the Nation" card and plastering Ric Razor while he was giving his backstage interview. During the main event, Tacks hoists Razor up and slams him down through a table covered with Tacks to get the three count. On the Night of Champions card, Tacks shows up to revel in the fact that he has killed the Razonist nation, only to have Razor come in and take it to Tacks with chairshot after chairshot.] VO: _Your_ champion; a vagabond Outlaw [Clips of Tim Brock on the very first card, Gold Rush, coming out and stealing Jack Diamond;s interview time which quickly degenerated into an impromptu brawl. The two later met on the same card in the Rumble match for the title. We see Brock being eliminated by Diamond only to come back in and eliminate the Outlaw. Diamond returns the favor and elimates Brocks from the outside. We then go to the tag match where Tony Dunn turns his back on his lifetime tag partner, only to give Tim Brock the "w" over Jack Diamond. The following show, Jack Diamond comes out during the main event number one contenders match and attacks Brock and costs him the right to be #1 contender. The Rise of the Nation card... Tim Brock assaults Jack Diamond after his victory over Jack Varsity with a lead pipe and leaves him laying on the ground... we then see Tim Brock winning the HIT Treasure State title by cleanly pinning Rick O'Shay, and proclaiming himself over the PA System.] TB: HIT... I am _YOUR_ champion! [We then fade to the Highway to Hell'ena logo as we hear Jammer say.] VO: Tonight, we're on a Highway to Hell'ena. [Logo: | |o | |---|.,---.|---.. . .,---., . | ||| || || | |,---|| | ` '``---|` '`-'-'`---^`---| `---' `---' /|\ ___________ / \ | | --.-- / | \ | Helena 38 | | ,---. \ |___________| | | || \ | | ` /`---' \|_ _|_ / | \ / \ ~ / | \ ~ | | | | \| |---|,---.| | ' ,---.,---.,---. | ||---'| | |---'| |,---| /` '`---'`---'`---' `---'` '`---^\ | Live from the Carrol College Gym | \______________04.14.03_______________/ [We fade to the back. We're in a hallway in the back, where large fans are blowing to keep the wrestlers cool. We see two costodial workers standing in the breeze as the "HIT MONSTER" comes walking up to them. He has his regular cut-off T-shirt on, which reads just that; "HIT Monster". He has a bandana and shades on, looking like one mean pup. The custodial workers -- by no means big -- dwarf him. They tap each other on the arms and giggle. Copious overhears their laughter and walks up on them and slides his shades down his nose -- giving them a stare.] KC: Got a problem? [Still giggling, they shake their head.] KC: Good. Good. I'm already in a bad mood... and being as massive as I am, I don't trust myself when I get too angry. [Silence.] Why am I angry, you ask? [The two men shake their heads no... but Copious seems oblivious to it.] Because, after chokeslamming everything HIT can offer up my way... they can't even book me on tonight's card. The... [Points at shirt.] ...HIT Monster. Tonight, it's time to step it up a notch. Time to do what I want, because no one can stop me. No one. [Copious flexes his bicepts... and we fade out to the arena. We pan around the setup a few seconds. We see the ring with the "H2H" logo in it. We see a jam packed college gym, filled with about 900 young males. A few women here and there. None more pretty than the one we see upon the final pan -- we are brought into full view of the booth, where Jammer Phillips and Sara Watson sit.] JP: Helena... how ya doin! [Crowd pop.] JP: We're finally here... the place HIT calls home. The place where it all comes together in one finely woven extravaganza... tonight, it's time for Highway to Hell'ena! SW: Nice video package, Jammer. JP: Thanks. SW: I only really liked the way it ended. JP: Hmmm... figures. Ladies and gentlemen, we've already seen Tim Brock strike out against Jack Diamond. SW: More like the other way around, Jammer. JP: Please! Our Treasure State champion took aim at Jack Diamond's family... and Sara, that just isn't right. SW: Says you. They're still sitting at ringside, in perfect health. JP: Well... at any rate, Tony Dunn saved the champion from taking a ride on the Cattle Drive. You really have to start wondering about the relationship between Tim Brock and Tony Dunn. SW: What do you mean? JP: Well... Tony Dunn spread the chairshots around at Blurred Battlelines, but who is the one man he spared? SW: Tim Brock. JP: Tonight, when Tony Dunn came to the ring to spread some more chairshots around, who did he spare? SW: Tim Brock. I, uh, don't follow, Jammer. JP: [sigh] I think there's more than meets the eye between those two. Dunn, known for not caring about anyone or anything, has stayed pretty clear of Tim Brock and his well-being. It just seems... strange. SW: Oh lord, you're losing it, Jammer. JP: Be that as it may... I don't trust Dunn and neither does the man we're about to hear from. Let's send it off to the former champion... [We open to a corridor in the depths of the Carol College Gymnasium. The crowd cheers as they see former Treasure State Champion, Rick O'Shay walking towards the ring in full wrestling attire. As he walks he slams his fist into the palm of his hand to punctuate each sentence.] RO: So Dunn…seems like you'll go to any lengths to avoid having your ass handed to you by good ole Rick O'Shay! You go and get your stupid ass arrested so that its against the law for you to come to the match. So did prison treat you well?…find a nice boyfriend did ya?…treat you nice did he? Well I hope you enjoyed it ya inbred, sheep shaggin redneck…cos Good Ole Rick O'Shay ain't in a good mood. First I lost the Title… Then you go and get yerself arrested in an attempt to dodge me in what could be ma last match! You're a rascle for sure…but you ain't getting away without kissin the blarney stones… Blarney stone 1 (holds up his right fist) and Blarney stone 2 (holds up his left fist). So this coming weekend….I get to find me pot o gold at tha end o the rainbow. I take my first step in reclaiming me rightful place as the Champion of this outfit…or…I discover that I have saved me enough money to finish me trip. Either way it don't make no difference. Cos after tonight, your jail shagged ass belongs to me and there ain't nothing ya can do bout it. So as Grand Pappy O'Shay once said… When the levee breaks…cryin won't help ya and prayin won't do ya no good! So Tony Dunn….watch out for the RICOCHET BANG BANG BANG [We head down to the ring.] Highway To Hell'ena ...+................................+.. ooooo ooooo .oooo. ooooo ooooo....|Opening Match |.. `888' `888' .dP""Y88b `888' `888' ...+................................+.. 888 888 ]8P' 888 888 ....|Rick O'Shay | 888ooooo888 .d8P' 888ooooo888 ....| v/s | 888 888 .dP' 888 888 .....| Tony Dunn| 888 888 .oP .o 888 888 +................................+ o888o o888o 8888888888 o888o o888o |Written By: Sean | Highway To Hell'ena +................................+ [Ted Bemby, live and in color.] TB: INTRODUCING FIRST... FROM LUEKENBACH, TEXAS... 'THE REBEL' TONNNNNNNNNYYYYY DUNNNNNNNN! [Cut to Jammer.] JP: Here comes hell itself. SW: Yes! [Cue: 'A Country Boy Can Survive' By Hank Williams Jr.] [The cheap ass PA Systems blastes out, an old country tune. As out comes... 'The Rebel' Tony Dunn. His attire? The usual... Black cuttoff shit that reads... 'Southern Heritage' on the front, and wearing a confederate flag bandana wrapped around his head. Also sporting, some old blue jeans, with a big rebel flag belt buckle. Dunn's a Scott Hall look alike, as you can see his long black, greasy hair hang our the back of his bandana.] #The preacher man say's it's the end of time #The Mississippi river, she's goin dry #The intrest is up, and the stock market's down #You only get mugged if you go down town [Dunn steps into the ring, pulls off his bandana, and raises it high! The fans boo loudly, as he slowly nods his head and smiles, and soon puts the flag back on, as the music plays out.] JP: This guy is abosolutely all about the South, you might say. SW: Well that's where he's from Jammer. JP: Heck, I believe even if he wasn't from the South, he would still fly that flag. SW: Are you sayin' he's racist? JP: Isn't all rednecks? [Cut to Bempy.] TB: INTRODUCING NEXT... FROM DUBLIN, IRELAND... RICCCCCCCK OOOOOOO'SHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAY! [Cut to Jammer.] JP: And now that man, that last his title last show to Tim Brock, in a bad way. He has to be angry with himself. SW: Na! Probably more angrier at Tim Brock! [Obscure Celtic music hits the PA and a green clover leaf shines around the entranceway. As the curtain parts Rick O'Shay steps out. He is wearing green and white wrestling tights with black boots. A red four leafed clover adorns his crotch. As he makes his way to the ring he stops and shakes his head, almost in disbelief and then continues on. Once in the ring he takes a couple of roundhouse punches over the top turnbuckle to warm and then gets ready for action.] [Ding, Ding, Ding.] [The bell rings, and Rick O'Shay doesn't hesitate abit. He charges right in on Tony Dunn, and slings him up and over with a quick Hip Toss. Dunn however, doesn't let that stop him... he gets right back up to his feet, and both of the men begin trading licks at each other.] JP: O'Shay and Dunn are going at it here, right out of the gate. SW: Well, these two guys have been going at it forever it seems like. And Rick O'Shay still has yet to hand Tony Dunn a good butt kicking. And Jammer, I don't see it happening. JP: Well I wouldn't count the former HIT champ out for nothing, I mean O'Shay does know how to win. SW: All I can say, is Dunn beat him in a non title affair. And he did it with ease, and that's the way it's going to be tonight. JP: So confident. [The fans begin to boo, as Dunn really begins to work O'Shay over. Until O'Shay brutally just charges right back in, and drops him with a huge Neckbreaker! The fans begin to go crazy, as O'Shay is now stomping the downed Tony Dunn.] JP: O'Shay starting to take this match into his own hands, here in the early going. SW: Dunn really wouldn't look to bad, if he would get rid of that nasty stuff in his mouth. JP: Why don't you tell him that? I'm sure he would get rid of it for you. [O'Shay pulls Dunn back to his feet, and Dunn out of nowhere goes running off the ropes, bounces... and drops Rick O'Shay to the mat with a clothesline. The fans begin to go back to boo'ing, as Tony Dunn is now stomping Rick O'Shay.] JP: Well, I must fix what I said. Dunn is now turned the tables, and basically stomping O'Shay now, which O'Shay was doing to 'The Rebel' just a second ago. SW: He's probably mocking Mr. Lucky Charms. Hehehehe. JP: Mercy. Lucky Charms isn't a bad cereal though. SW: That's true, but I refuse to buy the cereal now, since O'Shay's face appears on the front of the box. [Dunn hauls his man back up. Irish Whips him into the ropes, O'Shay comes off Dunn catches him and drops him with a nicely done... Vertical Suplex. Dunn goes for the quick pin...] JP: Big move by Dunn, he's gonna' go for the pin. ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! TWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THHHHHHRRRRRRR- JP: O'Shay just does kick out of that. SW: Rick O'Shay looks like crap and Tony Dunn is really working him over. JP: O'Shay isn't doing to bad, I mean this match has just begun. That's the way I see it, at least. SW: But like cereal. Lucky Charms get soggy after awhile, if you let them sit. And well, O'Shay looks soggy. JP: Your such a idiot Sara. [Rick O'Shay jumps back to his feet, and Dunn comes right back in at him firing punches. O'Shay blocks, whips Dunn around and drops him to the mat with a nicely done DDT. Dunn however, still not letting that stop him, he gets right back to his feet. Chawing his chaw and all, he runs in spins O'Shay around and drops him hard to the mat with a brainbuster! The crowd absolutely boo's their asses off.] JP: The fans isn't liking that the former champ is really getting himself in trouble here. SW: Just about anyone that steps in the ring with 'The Rebel' is in trouble. Why he's about like Tim Brock, so cool and so fly. JP: No comment for me. SW: Good didn't need one from ya. [Dunn doesn't go for the pin, he hauls O'Shay back to his feet. O'Shay looks froggy, but Dunn doesn't care. He whips O'Shay back into the ropes... O'Shay comes off... Dunn nails him with his cowboy boots right to the face, with a nicely done Big Boot. O'Shay drops to the mat with ease.] SW: Mr. Lucky Charms' looks all soggy. JP: Dunn sure isn't giving him a chance here tonight, I know that much. He is really determined to beat O'Shay. SW: Wouldn't you be? O'Shay lost the title, and Dunn was the number one contender, so now that means he doesn't get that title shot. Which sucks for Tony Dunn. But is also good, because my man Tim Brock has the title! JP: YAY! [Dunn still not wasting anytime. Soaking in all the heel heat, while chawing his Redman. He hauls O'Shay back to his feet... throws his head between his legs... and signals for the... CONFEDERATE DROP... ... _WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!_ ... O'Shay punches Dunn right in the groins! The Ref doesn't even seem to notice, as Dunn bends over holding his manhood.] SW: What the... [Jammer interupts, before the bad word comes out.] JP: ... the ref didn't even see that low blow. SW: How cheap is that, Jammer? JP: It's pretty cheap, but it's not as bad as Varsity. He does this all the time, and you seem to like him. SW: Well now that's a different story. JP: Sure it is. [Dunn is still holding his manhood, and well the fans is going nuts for Rick O'Shay. O'Shay comes in and grabs Dunn by the head, whips him around and drops him with a belly to belly suplex. The fans cheer their man on, as he goes for the pin.] JP: O'Shay hit a nice move, and is now going for the pin. ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! TWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- JP: Dunn kicks out. He isn't giving up, that's for sure. SW: Yeah Jammer, but this match should be over right now. O'Shay clearly hit Dunn right in the jimmy. JP: The Jimmy? [O'Shay smacks the mat, jumps up and hauls Dunn up. Dunn out of nowhere just grabs O'Shay and drops him to the mat with a FACE SMASH! The crowd doesn't like this at all... Dunn then lays in the ring breathing deeply as O'Shay is down flat on his face. The Ref decides to make a count on the double DQ. As both men lay on the mat.] ...ONE! [Dunn with eyes open, breathing... but not getting up.] JP: Dunn or O'Shay one better get up. Or neither one of these guys, is going to win this good ol' grudge match. ...TWO! [Dunn's moving.] JP: Dunn is moving folks, but can he get up? SW: Why yes he can, Jammer. ...THREE! [Dunn is holding on the ropes, trying to get up.] JP: Dunn is almost up. ...FOUR! [Dunn spits one time, and then just gets right up to his feet.] SW: And Jammer, I told you Tony Dunn would get up. All bar brawlers seem to never quit a good fight. JP: Especially when there fighting for dumb broads like you in a bar. [Dunn is up, and the fans boo. He slowly walks over hauls O'Shay up... and begins punching the shit out of Rick O'Shay right in the grill. O'Shay then blocks... kicks Dunn in the stomach... Dunn backs off... O'Shay comes flying off the ropes. Dunn drops him with a backdrop!] JP: Dunn has created a spark here! SW: Yay! I hope he beats Mr. Lucky Charms. [O'Shay jumps right back up, he charges right back at Dunn! Dunn just grabs him throws his head between his legs! And punches him in the back... And signals for his CONFEDERATE DROP... AKA Sitdown Powerbomb.] JP: Could this be it for Rick O'Shay!? SW: It's over, hang up the cleetes O'Shay. You are going to have to dig your own grave after this move. [Dunn lifts O'Shay up, O'Shay's legs are flapping like crazy, but he can't do shit... ... _BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!_ ... Dunn drops him hard to the mat, the fans boo... And Dunn has the pin... ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! TWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! [Ding, Ding, Ding!] JP: 'The Rebel' Tony Dunn wins! SW: Welp, O'Shay really took a good ol' country butt kickin', you might say. And he's cereal was soggy. JP: Well it was a well faught match. And for the first match here at Highway To Hell'ena, it was a great match... and that's not all folks there is more to come. SW: Yep, you can bet on that. Tim Brock, my sexy man will show up tonight. And that's what I'm waiting on. JP: Figures. SW: Yes, and he does have some nice figure to him, a nice little ass. JP: Sheesh. [With that, we're left where we see 'The Rebel' Tony Dunn, just spit on the downed and out cold Rick O'Shay. He then walks over and slides out of the ring, and begins heading for the back. As the fans boo their asses off at him.] JP: What a vile... putrid man. He has went on record and said he will get a shot at the HIT title tonight, come hell or highwater... and you know what? I beleive the man. SW: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Bring on the Thrillah! JP: Not quite yet... right now, we're going to the back where Sean Sixberry is standing by. [We cut to the back, where we see 'Shotgun' Sean Sixberry standing, ready to speak his mind.] SS: Varsity... Tonight is going to be one to remember. [Sixberry says that with a serious look on his face.] SS: Tag titles... versus... these 'Barrells'. [Sixberry flexes his biceps, as he glares into the camera.] SS: The time is here. Me and you one on one, we decide who the titles belong too. The fans know it, and I know it Varsity. Your a cheater. The titles, rightfully belong to me... So in abit, you'll soon see, when the 'Shotgun' unleashes all 'Barrells', on you. [Sixberry grins, soaking in all his ego.] SS: Get ready for a long night, a long match of me, beating your ass in the rightful way. The clock winds, and your mind thinks of another way to cheat. But all in the end... these 'Barrells'... [Flexes.] SS: ... Will be the 'FIRING SHOT'! [With that we fade out to Jammer and Sara.] JP: Sean Sixberry seems confident in himself... tonight, one man will walk out the rightful owner of _both_ Great West tag titles. Later on tonight, the HIT Treasure State title will be put on the line as Tim Brock defends against Jack Diamond... and right now, I'm being told, Tony Dunn is in the back raising hell! [We cut to the back, we see 'The Rebel' Tony Dunn walking down a hallway. He then, stops dead in his tacks, and turns to a door and opens it up, and walks in. The camera pans in, and we see a chair with it's back turned, and it quickly turns around towards Tony Dunn, behind the desk. It's none other then the President of Hit... Sean White. Tony Dunn just stares him down, chawing on his chaw. Sean White looks shocked.] SW: Ummmm, can I help ya' Ton- [Dunn butts in.] TD: Ya' can fuckin' help meh', or I'll do it my own self. [Sean White looks scared shitless, and puzzled with that remark.] SW: Well Tony, what's the prob? [Dunn chaws on his chaw, and walks over to White's garbage can and spits, then turns back to the front of his desk. White still with a puzzled look written all over his face.] TD: The prob? Goddamnit bawh, ya' know what the fuckin' prob is. Ya' didn't give me my goddamn title shot, instead ya' let that punk ass Tim Brock, have... MY! [Dunnn points to himself.] GODDAMN TITLE SHOT! [Sean White is really scared now, but no longer with a puzzled look on his face. He then stands up, and Dunn still stares him down, mad as hell.] TD: I whooped yer' leprechauns ass bubba, and if that was a title shot. That goddamn title woulda' been mine son. Now tonite' my long lost basterd fer' a freind has a title match with Brock, in the goddamn Main Event while I'm sittin' the pretty-mary curtain jerker, that had to kick Rick O'Shays ass again fer' the second time. That's two times. Two damn times, Sean, Ah' shoulda been the fuckin' champion. [White nods, and speaks.] SW: Okay. Now what do you want me to do about it? [Dunn gets a little closer to White.] TD: Like I said, ya' can help me, or I'll do it my own damn self. I'll either walk to that ring t'night and fight fer the title with yer' blessing... or I'll kick yer' ass on the way down the aisle. I'm gettin' meh' title shot. [With that, we fade out... left in questioning. "What's going to happen?" We then head back out to ringside.] JP: I can't read Tony Dunn... one second he's seemingly content with Tim Brock... the next, he's fuming mad like we've just seen. People, before the nights up, you can rest assured it's goin' to pickup here in Helena! SW: Oh, brother. JP: Right now... before we send it down to the ring, let's hear from the current "owner" I guess you could say, of the Great West tag straps.... Jack Varsity! [The scene opens backstage, outside of a locker room door. On the door is a regular sheet of white paper, with the words "JACK VARSITY" printed on it in large black letters. It appears that someone didn't think that those words were the only ones needed on the sign, since the words "ALL STATE" and "HIT GREAT WEST TAG TEAM CHAMPION" were printed above and below the original name respectively, in blue marker. The camera man moves toward the door, knocking on it, and it swings open on his own, showing the back of "All State" Jack Varsity. He's apparently gotten his letter jacket back, and he's wearing his regular attire of dirty blue jeans and work boots. He keeps his back to the camera, not realising it's there.] JV: Are you ready for it? Here I go! [Jack opens his jacket, apparently flashing someone or something on the other side of him. He then closes his jacket, and slowly turns around toward the camera. He has a huge smile on his face, and is in no way surprised at the camera.] JV: So, you want a peek too, do you? Well hold on tight, cause here we go! [Varsity again opens his jacket, but instead of seeing freakish manboobs or even Jack's beer belly, you see the two Great West Tag Team Titles strapped around his waist, one on top of another. His smile seems to grow at the sight of the two belts.] JV: Man, I'll _never_ get tired of doing that! [He stops to stare at the belts for a moment, transfixed in a state of pure joy and excitement. Varsity eventually shakes it off, and turns back around, grabbing his "All State" Trophy. He then turns back toward the camera, happy as a kid in the candy store.] JV: Don't think I'm forgetting about my pride and joy, my All State Trophy here. After all the years we've been together, hanging out at parties, going out to dinner, showing up at motivational speeches semenars, having sex with some damn fine women... I couldn't forget about her if I tried! She's just as shiny as the day I got her, mostly due to me being unable to polish her nob! [He flashes a glance at nob on the top of his trophy, taking a moment to breath on it and polish it up with the sleeve of his jacket. After being satisfied with the job, Jack turns back to the camera.] JV: We had a heck of a time at that big party I threw last week, and boy have my new gold belts become good friends with my trophy! It's got to the point where the three of them just look so right being next to one another. You'd think my trophy would get jealous of the twins here, but then you'd be wrong. They love being with my All State Trophy as much as she loves them, and as much as I love all of them! [Varsity pats the two belts with his free hand, still smiling. After a moment he suddenly stops, he gets a more serious look on his face as if he remembered something.] JV: And now the higher ups are trying to take these belts that I earned, single handedly I might add, away from me and give them to that no good cheater Sean Sixberry! Sure, he may have been out there standing around, doing nothing, while I was busy wrestling my heart out to win these belts, but that doesn't mean he deserves to have one of them, let alone both of them! They belong to me, dammit, and I don't need no silly match here on this supercard to to tell me that! [Varsity, more angry than anything now, takes a moment to pat his belts and look at his trophy.] JV: No amount of that cheating that you seem to love doing will help you tonight, Sixberry. I'm two times the athlete you'll ever be, and as I proved last week, I can beat two men at once, so what kind of a chance do you really have, you no good cheater? [Jack stares into the camera.] JV: The twins have become part of my family, with me and my trophy, and there isn't any way I'm going to let you break up _this_ family! [Varsity takes a moment to pat his belts and stare at his trophy. A grin then appears on his face again.] JV: Come on, guys, it's time to put on an "All State" showing! [Varisty leaves the room, and the screen fades to the ring.] Highway To Hell'ena ...+................................+.. ooooo ooooo .oooo. ooooo ooooo....|Great West Title Match |.. `888' `888' .dP""Y88b `888' `888' ...+................................+.. 888 888 ]8P' 888 888 ....|Jack Varsity | 888ooooo888 .d8P' 888ooooo888 ....| v/s | 888 888 .dP' 888 888 .....| Sean Sixberry| 888 888 .oP .o 888 888 +................................+ o888o o888o 8888888888 o888o o888o |Written By: Sean | Highway To Hell'ena +................................+ [Fade down to Ted Bemby.] TB: INTRODUCING FIRST, FROM AMARILLO, TEXAS... 'SHOTGUN'... SEAN... SIXXXXXXXBEEEERRRRRRY! ["Wanted Dead Or Alive" By Bon Jovi, cranks over the PA System. And out in smoke comes... "Shotgun" Sean Sixberry. Wearing them old blue jeans, going skins, showing his cut upper body. And along with a big expensive, belt buckle with a Eagle on the plate.] #Its all the same, only the names will change #Every day it seems we're wasting away #Another place where the faces our so cold #I'd drive all night just to get back home [The crowd goes nuts, as he slides into the ring! As he flexes and kisses his biceps, which he calls his barrells.] [Cut to Jammer.] JP: And the fans absolutely love this guy, but Varsity sure doesn't. SW: I don't like him either, Varsity should have his way with him tonight. [Cut back to Bempy.] TB: AND HIS OPPONENT, AND HOLDING THE GREAT WEST TAG TITLES... FROM RIGHT HERE IN HELENA, MONTANA... "ALL - STATE" JACK VAAAAARSSSSSSSIIIIIITTTTTY! ["Carrol College Gymnasium's Fight Song" plays over the PA system, and after a couple of moments "All State" Jack Varsity steps out from behind the curtain, complete with his letter jacket and a trophy in his right hand! He's wearing a pair of worn blue jeans with various stains apparent in several places, and a pair of worn down work boots. He has both of his hands taped up with white tape, also stained, and a single elbow pad on his right elbow. He stops a few steps out from the entrance, raising the trophy into the air, showing off the words "ALL STATE" etched in the metal, but as he does so, his rather grotesque beer belly makes it's first appearance to the crowd. He then lowers the trophy and makes his way to the ring, making sure to let the crowd know he made "All State" while playing sports. He eventually makes it to the ring, climbing up the stares and between the ropes, making sure his trophy doesn't get harmed, and poses one more time for the crowd. He goes back to his corner and hands his trophy to a ringside attendant, warning them not to lose his trophy, before handing them his letter jacket, and doing the same thing again. He then leans back against the ropes, awaiting the start of the match.] [Ding, Ding, Ding] JP: There's the bell, and what a match this is in the making. The winner of this match will receive both of the tag titles. Which Varsity already has. SW: Yeah, it's in the making for Jack Varsity, to retain his titles. JP: Well let's just see about that. [Sixberry doesn't waste any time, he comes right at Varsity and begins firing punches right at him. Sixberry then, pulls him around and up for a quick Vertical Suplex. The fans begin cheering on 'Shotgun' Sean Sixberry.] JP: Sean Sixberry of to a nice start. And you know Sara, when you look at this match. You just want to stop and say... wow... Both of this men, are two competitors. And well, they both hate each other. SW: Yeah, and it's clear that Varsity deserves those tag titles, more then 'Shotgun' Sean Sixberry does. JP: How so? Varsity has been known to cheat in the past, I remember him once using Brass Knuckles on Sean Sixberry, to get the pin. SW: NO... NO... NO! Sixberry is the cheater! JP: Whoa... easy now. [Varsity doesn't let the Suplex bother him too much, he gets right back to his feet, and begins throwing rights and lefts at Sixberry as well. Sixberry fires back, but Varsity blocks. Varsity Irish Whips him into the ropes, Sixberry comes off the other end... Varsity drops him to the mat with a sure Clothesline.] JP: Varsity bounces right back with a nice clothesline. SW: There you go Varsity, take it to him. [Sixberry gets back to his feet. Both men walk around the ring, circiling each other and looking one another down. Varsity is the first to move, he grabbles Sixberry. Sixberry whips him around, and sends him to the mat with a nice Hip Toss. Varsity however, gets right back to his feet and begins firing more punches at the head of Sixberry. He backs him all the way into the turnbuckle. The Ref tries to get Varsity off, but he can't. Sixberry finally just hacks up a leg, and kicks Varsity right in the stomach. Jack Varsity backs off.] JP: Sixberry with a kick to the midsection. And Varsity must know, that Sixberry is a competitor and a pure good wrestler. I mean with all the fighting these guys have put up in the past, there's no doubt in my mind, that Varsity knows Sixberry is one tough son of a gun. SW: Yeah, yeah, yeah. But to be honest with you Jammer. Sixberry knows Varsity is tougher, and you'll soon find out. [Jack Varsity is standing in the ring, breathing deeply. Sixberry then charges in right at him, and tackles him. He begins firing punches at Varsity, and he then gets up off of him. He pulls Varsity back to his feet, he tries for the DDT! But Varsity reverses, and sends him up and over with a German Suplex! Varsity goes for the cover.] JP: Varsity hit's a nice move, and is now going for the quick cover. Is it over this soon? ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! TWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- JP: Sixberry with the kickout. SW: Lucky punk. JP: Varsity made a dumb decision there, why go for a quick pin? When you can wear down the opponent more? SW: Jammer, would you please quit trying to defend Sixberry. You know he's lost, you know he's no good, and you know Varsity... is well... good. JP: Oh brother. [Varsity doesn't waste anytime, he gets up and pulls Sixberry up as well. Sixberry just hauls off and smacks Varsity. Varsity just comes right back in and takes him down with a quick DDT! The fans begin to boo their asses off, as they know Varsity is giving the 'Shotgun' all he wants here tonight.] JP: Varsity is really taking it to Sixberry right now. SW: Yeah, he has the entire time here in HIT! Varsity has all the true talent. Why he's beaten the 'Shotgun' more then he can bare. JP: Ah, whatever. [Varsity gets back up, and hauls Sixberry up as well. He sends Sixberry flying into the ropes, he goes for a clothesline, but Sixberry ducks it. Varsity comes flying off the other end, and Sixberry nails him with a Back Drop! And that gets the fans attention, they begin to cheer on Sixberry now.] JP: Oh my. Sixberry getting the fans back on his side, in this match! SW: They've been on his side Jammer. There just dumb like that, they boo when Varsity makes a move, and cheer when Mr. Attitude makes a move. Which is pretty rare. JP: Rare, eh? SW: Yeah... rare. [Varsity gets right back up, Sixberry comes in and they both lock arms. Varsity knees Sixberry in the stomach. Sixberry backs off, and Varsity comes flying in and clotheslines Sixberry. The crowd begins to go back to boo'ing.] SW: See what I mean, now they boo. Bunch of idiots. JP: Well if you was a fan, you'd be pretty ignorant. In being the only one cheering for Jack Varsity. SW: Yeah, but atleast my guy would win. [Sixberry gets right back to his feet, Varsity begins throwing punches at him, until Sixberry fights him off, and drops him with a Neckbreaker! The crowd begins to turn it's favor in Sixberry's way, as they cheer him on. Sixberry however, isn't going to let up on Varsity. He hauls him back up, Irish Whips him into the ropes. Varsity comes off the other end, Varsity ducks a clothesline attempt by Sixberry. Both men still running, Sixberry bounces off the other end, and so does Varsity... WHAAAAAAAM! Both men collide right in the middle of the ring! The Ref begins making the Double DQ count. No man moves.] JP: WOW! Both men are down in the ring! SW: Varsity will get up, just watch. ... ONE! [No movement.] ... TWO! [Still no movement.] ... THREE! [Varsity begins coming too.] ... FOUR! [Varsity is up!] JP: Varsity finally gets up to his feet! SW: See, what'd I tell ya? JP: Yeah, you where right for a change. SW: Why thank you, Jammer. [Varsity begins walking over to the downed Sean Sixberry. He pulls him up, and he throws his head between his legs! He tries to lift him up for a Powerbomb! ... SIXBERRY REVERSES! AND DROPS VARSITY WITH A PANCAKE! THE FANS GO NUTS!] JP: Sixberry pulls a big move, and the fans now cheer him on! SW: Like I said before... [Jammer interupts.] JP: WE KNOW! Sheesh, watch the match will ya? SW: ... [Both men are down on the mat, and Sixberry begins getting up... and he staggers abit, and just falls back to the mat. The Ref begins counting for another Double DQ count.] JP: Both men are really taking a beating here tonight. Whoever wins this match, is truly the man to beat in HIT. Atleast that's the way I see it. SW: Well you see it all wrong, that man to beat hasn't had his match yet. JP: And who might that be? SW: It might be the... 'Thrillah'. ... ONE! [No one moving.] ... TWO! [Both men, begin to move.] ... THREE! [Varsity begins pulling himself up to one knee on the ropes.] ... FOUR! [Varsity gets up!] JP: Varsity is yet again, the first man to get up, to avoid the double disqualification. SW: As always. [The fans begin boo'ing. As Sixberry is trying to get up, Varsity is up but just laying on the ropes. Sixberry finally crawls over to the ropes. And begins pulling himself up as well. However, we see on the other end... Varsity begins digging his pants for something... and he finds what he wants... those damn brass knuckles. Sixberry is now up on his feet on the other side of the ring, and slowly walking towards Jack Varsity.] JP: Oh no! Varsity has Brass Knuckles! This is going to get bad! And really in a fast way! SW: Yeah baby, you take it to him! [The fans begin cheering on Sixberry. He walks over to Varsity, who has those brass knuckles, while breathing hard, and leaning on the ropes with his back turned to Sixberry. Sixberry walks over within fighting range, and he taps Varsity on the shoulder! Varsity turns, Sixberry swings... Varsity blocks... ... _WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!_ ... The heel heat emerges! As Varsity just cracks him right in the forehead with Brass Knuckles. And the Ref didn't even see that Varsity had them. Sixberry just drops to the mat, and a gash is opened on his forehead, all bloody. Varsity just falls on him for the cover.] JP: SIXBERRY IS NAILED BY BRASS KNUCKLES! THE REF DIDN'T SEE THEM! THIS IS INSANITY! SW: No this is... GREAT! ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! TWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRREEEEEE! JP: Sixberry kicks out? But did Varsity get the count?! SW: That answer is no. [Indeed. The Ref holds up a TWO! Varsity just smacks the mat, and quickly puts those Brass Knuckles back in his pants, before the Ref see's them. He then, get back to his feet. And hauls the bleeding Sixberry back up to his feet. He whips Sixberry into the ropes... Sixberry comes off the other end, and Varsity goes for a Clothesline! Sixberry ducks! Varsity drills the Ref! We then see 'Shotgun' Sean Sixberry slide out of the ring, on the other end of the ring!] JP: Mercy. The Ref just got layed out by a Varsity clothesline, that's going to leave a mark. SW: Sixberry is on the outside of the ring... What's he going to do? CHEAT?! JP: Ohhh poor baby. Varsity just cheated, so what's it matter. [Varsity stomps the mat like a little kid in disgust. He then turns looking for Sixberry. And he continues to look for him. While on the outside of the ring, Sixberry is slowly staggering, but he gets what he wants... A CHAIR! Varsity however, is in the ring peeking over the ropes looking for Sixberry. He doesn't see him, the Ref is still down.] JP: Varsity seem's to be looking for Sixberry, but he doesn't see him. What a tard. SW: Call him names all you want, but the fact of the matter is... Varsity is going to win this match. JP: Well, we will see about that. [Sixberry then slides in the ring, Varsity turns and see's what Sixberry has. Varsity tries to charge in at him, but Sixberry rares back... ... _CRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKK!_ ... Sixberry takes him out with a chair shot! Varsity hits the mat like a sack of taters. Sixberry quickly kicks the bent up chair right out of the ring. The fans begin cheering him on.] JP: Varsity just drops, as he really took a chair shot from Sixberry. SW: How cheap is that. The Ref needs to get up and DQ his butt. JP: Well if he does that, he also needs to DQ Jack Varsity. SW: Oh please. Varsity is fighting fair. JP: Yeah... right. [Sixberry then see's that the Ref is coming to. And he drops down on Varsity, and hacks his leg up for the pin. The Ref gets up, and walks in trying to shake off that clothesline from Varsity. And he goes down to make the count.] ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! TWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- JP: VARSITY KICKS OUT! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?! SW: YES! I BELIEVE IT! And would ya quit with the yelling? JP: This is just so exciting, how can you keep from yelling... when a match like this still isn't over? [Indeed. Sixberry is disgusted. And so is the fans, they begin boo'ing. Sixberry gets to his feet. And he hauls Varsity up... Varsity out of nowhere throws a haymaker, and stuns Sixberry. Sixberry falls back into the ropes... and Varsity catches him on the bounce... ... _BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!_ ... VARSITY NAILS SIXBERRY WITH A SUPER BELLY TO BACK SUPLEX!] JP: WHAT A WAR! BOTH MEN ARE GIVING THERE ALL HERE TONIGHT! SW: Not really, Varsity could do much better. JP: Sheesh. Your so negative. SW: Better then being so corny with words. [Varsity doesn't go for the pin. Instead he rolls out of the ring, and begins walking over towards the timekeeper. He yanks one of the Great West Title Belts, and slowly but surely begins walking back towards the ring.] JP: Varsity has the tag titles, that he stole from Sean Sixberry at the last HIT TV Show. SW: Stole? How many times do I have to tell you, that there... HIS TITLES! JP: Sixberry won the match, therefore there his. Well, actually Varsity should have his one and Sixberry should have his one. But that's not the case tonight. The winner gets both titles. SW: And that means the titles belong to Varsity! And there still going to after tonight! [In the ring Sixberry, is getting up to his feet, and is on his feet. Varsity rolls in the ring with the title. He goes to hit Sixberry, Sixberry takes it from him! And rares back... ... THE REF GRABS IT FROM HIM! FROM BEHIND! ... Sixberry turns, and tries to grab the title back, and both Sixberry and the Ref begin playing tug-o-war. However, Varsity is rolling back out of the ring, and off to the timekeeper once more.] JP: The Ref sure isn't going to let Sixberry hit Varsity with that title. That's for sure. SW: Yeah, that would be so much like cheating. [The Ref and Sixberry continue to fight over the title. Until the Ref threaten's to DQ him. Sixberry let's go, and the Ref slides out of the ring to take it back to the timekeeper. And guess what? Here comes Varsity, sliding back into the ring... WITH THE OTHER GREAT WEST TAG TITLE! Sixberry however, is mouthing off at the Ref on the outside, and the Ref just ignores him and goes on about returning the belt, back to it's rightful place.] JP: Oh lord help us. Varsity has the other title belt, and the Ref isn't in the ring! This is just unreal. SW: It's real, trust me. [Varsity then gets in close to Sixberry, and Sixberry just turns around and... ... _WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMM!_ ... Varsity drills him right in his bloody grill, with the title!] JP: Varsity just clobbers him in his bloody forehead with the title. This is just so wrong, flat out dirty. SW: Well, that has to kinda have Varsity worried. JP: Why's that? SW: Because, he got blood on the plate of his title. Now he's going to really have to polish that thing down, to make it look pretty with the others. JP: Oh brother. Somebody shoot me! [The fans begin boo'ing their damned asses off. Sixberry is down, and Varsity knows he's got to do something with the title. He quickly uses his smart instincts, and tosses it to the outside. And here comes the Ref getting back into the ring. Varsity then walks over to Sixberry, and goes for the cover! The Ref makes the count!] SW: It's over, Jammer. Go ahead and mark it down. JP: Indeed. It might be over! Can Varsity win? SW: Ummmm, he just did. ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! TWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! [Ding, Ding, Ding!] JP: VARSITY WINS! In a not so fair way, but still he gets the win, here at... Highway To Hell'ena! SW: I told you he'd win. He's got far better wrestling skills then Sixberry, and he's... ALL STATE! JP: Well with this win, Varsity retains both straps. SW: He sure does, and he totally deserves it. [With that stunning ending, the camera pans in where we see Jack Varsity soaking in all the boo's as he heads to the back with his trophy, and his two titles. Well he's say's there his, atleast. We also get a shot, of 'Shotgun' Sean Sixberry trying to get up, but he can't. He's all bloody, and literally beat the fuck out of.] JP: I'm sure Varsity will revel in his win here tonight... until he has to make his first handicap title defense. SW: Ohhh. You don't think he'll have to defend against tag teams, do you? JP: Uhhh. It's a team title, Sara. If he wants to be the solo man, he'll have to face several handicapped challenges... but right now, fans, we hear that Rick O'Shay might be leaving HIT! SW: Why, because he lost? Tough titty said the kitty. JP: I don't know... let's check it out! [We cut to Rick O'Shay. He looks groggy as he is leafing through his wallet on his way out of the arena.] RO: Well…that's that then I guess. I lost me Title, lost me fight with that Larrikin Tony Dunn and now I'm gone. Back home ta Dublin. [Dressed in his best jeans and "Ricochet" T-Shirt, yet another money making scheme designed to assist him in his trip back to Ireland, he grabs his bag and slowly, quietly leaves the Gymnasium. We cut to the entrance to the Arena and we see Sean White standing at the door. When he catches the expression on Ricks face he stops to talk.] SW: Sheesh. You and Dunn are some work... look, you lost the title. You lost the match. Hey, it happens. There will be more titles and more matches in Rick O'Shay's future. I promise you. So come on... don't be like this. RO: Thanks Sean. I appreciate the thought ta be sure, ta be sure…but I am getting to thinking. I miss the Emerald Isle. I never even thought about wrestling until I lost all me money at the Black Jack tables of Vegas. And well now…after your generosity in me pay cheques, I have got me enough to finish me world trip. I reckon that my wrestling career is over. SW: Look, I got big plans for you coming up... I implore you to reconsider. [The two are startled by the rustling of clothing. As they turn, they see the HIT newcomer, Seth Alexander standing in front of them.] SA: Well if it isn't the pity party? What's wrong man? Loose your lucky charms? Ya know Mr. O'Shay, it's people like you that give this buisness a bad name, you know? I've been busting my ass for coming up on 5 years and I'm stuck with Mr. Bad Ass over here. *points to Sean* Really Rick? Did you think that you have what it takes to actually succeed here? Wrestling for money and not the joy of it? Well you do got a point there, I could care less about these fans anyway. But you my friend... are a grade A, no use for talent, wanna be son of a... [Sean White steps in.] SW: LOOK! Don't forget, I'm still your boss, cochise. You can make all the threats you want towards me -- and hell, you have. But you need to back off, like, right now. [O'Shay waves White off.] RO: That's OK Sean…I don't need ya help dealing with this layabout. Afterall…looking at him he seems to be all tired out from his shower with the other boys. SA: Oh, you got jokes huh? Maybe you should hang out with this loser more Sean, fits right up your alley in wasted talent! [White points towards the door and Seth Alexander obeys. He walks out the door and White offers his hand to O'Shay.] SW: I know you have to do what you have to do... but please reconsider. RO: Will do... Goodnight Laddie. [As Rick O'Shay and Sean White turn to leave from out of nowhere Seth Alexander hammers Rick with a Trash can and then does the same to Sean. He lays into both guys and beats them down with a series of kicks and punches.] SA: Maybe I should of told ya, nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Sean White. But look on the brighter side of things... I got someone else's ass I can kick. [Bending over, Seth then steals Rick O'Shay's wallet and travel money. Rick, who is squirming on the ground, sees Seth pick it up. Rick grabs for it, but Seth lays yet another boot in the midsection of Rick. Seth, being the asshole that he is, gently steps on the left cheek of the fallen O'Shay.] SA: Oh this is your money? World trip, eh? Hmmm, looks like I'm going on a trip tonight, but it ain't around the world. [Seth steps off of O'Shay's face and spits on him. Seth walks off the screen, counting the money that he just accquired from Rick O'Shay. The camera zooms in on the fallen body of O'Shay as he struggles to get to his feet... ...we head back out to Jammer and Sara.] JP: What a despicable human being Seth Alexander is... he has hounded Sean White for weeks, demanding a face to face... and _this_ is what he does? Attacks the man from behind? SW: Well, duh, what did you expect? JP: Well, I can tell you what I expect now. SW: That is? JP: Seth Alexander will probably be out of a job... that's what I suspect. Not to get the mood on a downer... let's move right along. Our next match is two men who just started their stand off against one another, and already? It's the most sadistic, hardcore and insane bloodfeud we've got going here in HIT. I'm of course, talking about Cap'N Tacks of X-WW fame... and Ric Razor. SW: It just doesn't get crazier than this. JP: You know what I said earlier? SW: What's that? JP: That business was about to pick-up in Helena? SW: Oh no... JP: Well, it is. Ric Razor is standing by. [We fade to the back of the gymnasium. Pitch black. I mean that. Pitch fucking black. We can't see a single thing. All we hear is the deep inhale and exhale of a man smoking. All we can see is the cherry red ashe of a Marlboro, unfiltered cig. Razor begins to talk in the deep, monotone smokers voice.] RR: The things we cannot see. The ever growing, and ongoing, battle of good versus evil. Right versus wrong. The struggles we don't see, cause great nations... scores of thousands of people, to bleed. To suffer. To die. Where's our bleeding heart for them? Leave them to their own devices... leave them to their own demise. The things you cannot see. [Softer.] The things you cannot see. [Softer.] Don't underestimate the things you cannot see... [We come into a full lit picture of Ric Razor. His cig now dangling from his mouth. His razor blade drawn and held against the camera lens in a menacing manner.] ...Cap'N Tacks. [Pause.] You might be bigger. Stronger. More hardcore. But you can't measure a man's heart... or the evil that pumps therein. It's the things you cannot see that make you, you... and me, me. [Razor takes the cig out and smashes it on the ground.] The nation's wrath is nigh. [We fade down to ringside where we're ready for the opening bell.] Highway To Hell'ena ...+................................+.. ooooo ooooo .oooo. ooooo ooooo....|Double Stairway to Hell |.. `888' `888' .dP""Y88b `888' `888' ...+................................+.. 888 888 ]8P' 888 888 ....|Cap'N Tacks | 888ooooo888 .d8P' 888ooooo888 ....| v/s | 888 888 .dP' 888 888 .....| Ric Razor| 888 888 .oP .o 888 888 +................................+ o888o o888o 8888888888 o888o o888o |Written By: Jase | Highway To Hell'ena +................................+ [Fade down to Bemby.] TB: Ladies and gentlemen... it is time for the double-stairway to hell match! Introducing first... from Devils Post, Arizona... here is, "Piece of Hell" Ric Razor! [Cue: By Demons Be Driven by Pantera.] #Serving the faith #Abduction the oath #It lie in wait for the offering [Out walks Ric Razor in a pair of torn bluejeans and a ripped up shit which reads "Razonist Nation" on the front and on the back, a bloody razor with the words: "Step up and get your Slice of Hell". He has an unfiltered Marlboro cigarette clenched in his teeth as he surveys the crowd.] #Religion is old #Blood runs cold #By demonds be driven #Your death be told [We see his boot, the bulge in it -- the razor. He hops onto the apron and gets into the ring. He acts very nonchalant as he puts out the cigarette and readies himself for action.] SW: There's not a person sitting, Jammer. JP: As well there shouldn't be. [Back to Bemby.] TB: And his opponent... [Brief pause.] TB: ...from Laredo, TX... here is Cap'N Tacks!!! ["South Texas Deathride" begins to play over the HIT PA system. From the back comes the overweight hardcore brawler, Cap'N Tacks. His scarred face, his dirty "Practicing Catholic Priest" T-Shirt and dirty sweat pants... are quite the site to see. His bag'o tacks are missing this time.] #COME ON, COME ON, GET UP# #SOUTH TEXAS DEATHRIDE, YA MOTHERFUCK# [Cap'N Tacks slides into the ring head first. He shakes his "patches" haircut out... and we say patches, literally. He has four huge bald spots in his head -- little square blocks. Everywhere else, his hair is shoulder length. He slowly slumbers into the corner and gets ready for his match.] JP: This should be brutal... downright, nasty. SW: So in otherwords... once you've watched this upcoming brawl, you've seen it all? JP: Pretty much. [Ding, Ding, Ding.] JP: This one is sure to be a bloodbath. There's just no other way to put it. SW: Ugh. Can I take a twenty minute break? JP: Your entire evening is a break... isn't it? SW: Funny, Jammer. I'm supposed to be the sharp tongued devil of this duo. [The two ladders sit on the outside, propped against the ring. Tables are laying on the outside of the ring. Chairs are abundant. Above the ring, on two rings, hang the infamous bag o' tacks and the pearl-handled razor. Both men's weapon of choice is there for the taking. The ref backs up out of the way as the two rush in at each other -- Razor goes right to punching Tacks... and much like always, it doesn't do much against the huge man.] SW: A lesson in futility by Ric Razor. JP: Ric Razor is persistent, I'll give him that. He just won't learn that Cap'N Tacks is about as indestructable of a force as we've seen in a wrestling ring. SW: About as? He _is_ the Panzer that rolled off the wrestler assembly line, Jammer. No doubt about it. [Indeed. Tacks quickly grabs Razor and just picks him up and launches him into the turnbuckle. He begins to fire rights and lefts into the mid-section of Razor. Each punch just takes everything out of the much smaller, Razor. Tacks finally tires from that... grabs Razor by the arm and irish whips him into the opposite turnbuckle. Razor hits with so much sheer force, be bounces about three feet out of the corner and falls onto the mat.] JP: That is the hardest friggin' irish whip I believe I've ever seen... Razor just practically flew half-way across the ring! SW: Tacks is quite frankly, one scary man... it takes a set of balls to even step into the same ring as him. So I suppose I can say for certainty... that Ric Razor has a set most men would envy. JP: What on earth are you talking about? SW: I figured you wouldn't know. [Tacks picks Razor up and just levels him with a short-arm clothesline. Tacks make the cover... but before the ref can even count, Tacks gets up and brings Razor with him.] JP: Every move... every _single_ move Tacks does, he delivers with such a sheer force, that it's like he's trying to kill his opponent. He practically took Ric Razor's head off a moment ago and the fact that he's even standiong is a testament to just how tough this man is. SW: I'll give the devil -- or whatever Razor claims to be -- his due. He is certainly one tough sonofagun. JP: That he is. [Tacks picks Razor up on his shoulder... and just takes him down across his knee with a forceful shoulder breaker. Tacks stands up and measures Razor... and drops a big beefy leg right across Razor's face. And now, Tacks is ready to start opening some wounds as he rolls out of the ring and grabs a table. He slings one of them into the ring. He picks another one up and slings it into the ring. He then grabs a singapore cane and slides into the ring with it.] JP: Oh lord. Here comes the hardcore. SW: Lame, Jammer. Just lame. [Razor is still on the mat... Tacks raises the cane up for everyone in Helena to see. He then brings is over his head like a samaurai master -- he's odd like that, people. He then rares back... #WHOOSH# _KEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRR_AAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCK!!!_ #WHOOSH# _KEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRR_AAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCK!!!_ #WHOOSH# _KEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRR_AAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCK!!!_ ...the singapore cane snaps after the third time is comes crashing down over Razor's body. It's not just a big ol' splinter and Razor's mid-section is writhing in pain.] JP: Sweet momma-jean, Cap'N Tacks just shattered that singapore can over Ric Razor's ribs. SW: From the looks of it... I don't think that's all he shattered. Razor's ribs are probably more like pixie dust. JP: Very true. SW: Razor seems like a biblical versed man... maybe he'll come asking me for his rib back? Me thinks he's gonna need it. JP: And you call me lame? [Tacks walks over and gets the two tables. He props one up longways into the turnbuckle opposite of Razor. He takes the other one and stans it up on it's legs next to Razor and the crowd is beginning to rise on it's feet. They know what's coming. Tacks walks over and picks Razor up... he lifts him into a powerbomb position with relative ease. He takes a running -- for him at least, he's fat -- start and... _SMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSH!!!_ ...powerbombs Razor through the table propped up in the corner, like he was trying to drive the poor bastard to hell. We can't even see Razor's upperbody, it's covered in table fragments. All we can see are his protruding legs.] JP: GOOD LORD! SW: Now that? That hurts. JP: No duh! SW: No, Jammer. There are thing we know hurts... then there are things that hurt to even watch. That was the latter... that made _my_ neck twinge! JP: If Razor isn't broken in-half, I'd be impressed. [Tacks is now ready to bring in the ladders. He reaches through the ropes and grabs one of the ladders and brings it into the ring. He sets it up under the bag of tacks and begins to climb. It's wobbling like nobodies business, making Tacks _very_ slow on his climb to the top.] SW: Much like an elevator... the ladders here in HIT have a weight limit and I'm afraid Tacks pushs it to the threshold -- much like his hardcore mentality. JP: ...and what we can air. I agree, Cap'N Tacks loves to push _all_ things to the thresh hold. Even the weight capacity of a ladder, it seems. SW: Hey now. Don't go stealing my thunder, Jammer. JP: Yet it's perfectly fine for you to steal mine constantly. Good to see equal lib means just that. [Tacks is nearing the top finally... only thirty seconds or so after he started his journey. He's FOUR rungs away... THREE... TWO... ONE... _SMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSH!!!_ ...Razor has gotten himself up, sorta. He's hunched over from that brutal powerbomb he just took. However, is is standing... and he bumped the ladder and sent Tacks and the ladder hurdling downwards right through the second table. The crowd is on their feet. #HIT!# #HIT!# #HIT!# #HIT!# #HIT!# #HIT!# #HIT!# #HIT!# #HIT!# #HIT!# #HIT!# #HIT!# ...Razor can't capitalize on this however, as he falls back down to the mat, clutching himself.] JP: The sheer fact that Razor found a way... a way to battle to his feet. A way to get up after that viscious powerbomb through a table by Tacks, to divert Cappy's attempt at _really_ turning this match into the hell is promises to be, is just amazing. Simply amazing. SW: What's even more amazing is the crowd noise level, Jammer. I can barely hear myself _think_, much less talk! JP: Tell me about it. SW: WHAT? [Both men are down and the fans are giving Razor a reason to get up. They're chanting "come on Razor". However, their wishes aren't granted as Cap'N Tacks is the first man to his feet. He's over to Razor and picks him up and fires one... two... three double axe-handle smashes into Razor's upper back region that was already hurting him after that horrendous powerbomb he just received.] JP: It's not often you can comment on Cap'n Tacks ring psychology... because normally, his gameplan is just as simple as the word, destroy. However, he's really targetting that neck and upperback of Razor's. SW: And you know... with the size of those arms and those hands, those aren't just any normal axe-handle smashes. They're Cap'N Tacks delivered axe-handle smashes. JP: And there's a _big_ difference. SW: Uh, didn't I just say that? [Razor collapses to his knees. Tacks walks around to face Razor... takes a jiggly -- but running -- start, and fires a big boot right to Razor's face. Sends him down to the mat. Tacks grabs the ladder and sets it back up in the ring, under his bag of tacks. He's going to go up and get it... but this time, as he's about to start climbing, he turns around and fires five kicks to Razor's head just to make sure.] JP: Better to be careful than careless, as my momma used to say... and Tacks, remembering earlier when Razor came to life on his way up the ladder, has taken measures to make sure he's down for the duration, this time. SW: God help Razor's soul if Tacks reaches those weapons. JP: I don't really know what religion Ric Razor is... he's pretty much one twisted individual that as hard to read as Tony Dunn. However, I do know, he's not friends with God. SW: I suppose you couldn't be a god-fearing man to step into the ring with Cap'N Tacks. [Tacks now begins his ascent. This time, even slower than before. He seems to be favoring his left shoulder which absorbed most of the blow from that tumble he took earlier. Razor has begun to stir around on the mat but is far from on his feet. The fans are trying to give Razor support again... as Tacks continues going after those tacks.] JP: Tacks is just a few inches away from that 'bag of buddies' as he calls them... but Razor is stirring around a little. SW: Cap'N Tacks is _soooo_ freakin' slow. JP: I guess being a four-hundred pound animal has it's advantages and it's disadvantages. We're just bearing witness to _one_ of Tack's very few flaws. [Razor gets to his feet and he stumbles to the ladder and rests on it, which makes the ladder shake... and it's teetering. The fans let out some "ooooohs" and "awwwws" because this time, it's looking like Tacks could go right over the top rope and to the outside of the ring. However, Razor looks to have a different plan.] JP: What on eath is Ric Razor doing... what does he have planned? SW: I don't know... but Cap'N Tacks looks like he just saw a ghost. [Razor climbs up the ladder about half-way to meet Tacks and grabs the big man in a what? A _what_?] SW: You're _got_ to be kidding me! JP: A powerbomb coming up... [That's right. A powerbomb position. Tacks looks petrified at the prospect of the ladder shaking and him taking a nasty spill to the outside, so he's basically helpless. Razor pulls on Tacks... and they both come raining down from the ladder... #FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH# ...the cover of Pro-Wrestling Insider, gents... __BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!__ ...and Ric Razor has just powerbombed the _huge_ Cap'N Tacks from the ladder down to the mat, and both men are just a heap of flesh laying on the mat after that.] JP: That is the single most impressive thing I've ever seen! SW: I know Razor had a lot of help on that... considering Tacks was already in the air and there to drop. However, that was still simply amazing. JP: Has this match not been _everything_ it was cracked up to be? SW: And then some Jammer... and then some. JP: And it's just now getting to the thick of things! [Razor is the first to stir around. He slowly, and I mean slowly, gets to his feet. He's aching in every inch of his body. He stumbles over to the ladder... and begins to climb. Slowly... he's up one rung. Now two. Now three. Tacks doesn't seem to be moving at all.] JP: Razor is making his first attempt to gain control of the weapons after two failed Cap'N Tacks attempts to do the same. Here's to hoping him the best. SW: Well, even as busted up as Razor is... he's moving up the rungs a little faster than Cappy was. JP: That he is... [Razor is about three-quarters of the way up the ladder now and the chants of "RAZOR" are getting louder. It's clear who the fans are backing in this one, baby. Razor has FOUR rungs left... THREE... TWO... ONE... ZERO... ...the crowd pops as Razor reaches the top of the ladder and is now in reaching distance of the two rings. He naturally goes for his razor first.] JP: AND RIC RAZOR IS THE FIRST TO LAY CLAIM TO THE WEAPONS! SW: The tide may have just turned in this match, Jammer. JP: I'd say that's a fair assumption. [Indeed. Tacks is stirring and almost on his feet. Razor lays a hand on the Razor... yanks at it and... ...CROWD POP... ...has it in his grasp. He pulls it down and opens it up. The crowd is cheering as Razor looks at that big bag of tacks just sitting there. Speaking of Tacks, he's on his feet now and about to topple that ladder over.] JP: Razor is about to take a nasty spill... SW: With that open razorblade in his hands too, Jammer! He could land on that and jab himself through the heart! JP: I was just thinking the same thing... this is _very_ dangeroud business, ladies and gentle men... and I'd say not to try this at home, but bell... these two certifiable loons don't even have any business doing this! [Razor rares back with hiw razor and... __SWWWWWWWWWIIIISSSSSSSSSSSH!!!__ ...and here comes the silver rain. Razor slices the big bag of tacks open and they just pour down over him, the mat and Tacks down below him. They just cover the entire ring, and Tacks is stopped dead in his tracks as he watches the shower of his "friends" as he calles them, coming down.] JP: Sweet Jesus... SW: Tacks isn't right in the head. JP: You're just now realizing that? SW: Look at him though, he stopped dead in his tracks to watch the "silver rain"... it's just eerie. JP: WHA-OH! BUSINESS IS ABOUT TO PICK UP IN HELENA! [Razor turns around on the ladder to see Tacks down below him. He closes the razor and tucks it in his boot. As Tacks is about to shove the ladder out from under him, Razor comes flying off the top of it... #FLASH# #FLASH# #FLASH# ...Hardcore Mania Mag cover there, gents... __BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!__ ...Razor comes flying off the top of the ladder and takes Tacks out with a cross body, just as the ladder goes flying out from under Razor's feet. The two men go crashing down to the mat... and boy-oh-boy. Are they full of tacks now!] SW: OUCH! JP: That, ladies and gentlemen, is a two-hundred and eighty-five pount man who came flying off the top of that ladder, ladies and gents. SW: And he came crashing down into Tacks, _hard_. JP: Just like human bowling. [Razor is in agony. He rolls off of Tacks and all he gets are prickly metal objects rammed into his body. Tacks is down, but not out. He's already getting to his feet as well. Razor looks over and he can't believe it. He has the look of "my god, what does it take to keep this fat bastard down!"] JP: Goodness gracious... what on earth do you have to hit Cap'N Tacks with to keep him down for the count? SW: A dump truck? JP: Probably so. [Tacks is on his feet. He is now one bloody bastard, as is Ric Razor. They're both bleeding from all over their body. However, it doesn't matter. They look at each other and run at one another and start trading blows in the center of the ring... TACKS... RAZOR... TACKS... RAZOR... TACKS... TACKS... TACKS... ...Tacks begins to take control of the situation and quickly hammers Razor down into the mat. Razor slumps over and is on a knee now. He just can't match strength with the big mammouth known as Cap'N Tacks.] JP: Razor just won't learn that he can't go toe-to-toe with Cap'N Tacks... Tacks is just one absolutely _huge_ man, and I can't think of a single person on the roster that could do battle with him the way Razor does... SW: Or, tries, rather, right? JP: That'd be a better way of putting it... because on the level of brawling, Cap'N Tacks is unparalleled. [Tacks however, backs off Razor for the time being. He slides out of the ring and grabs a chair. Make that two. He throws one in the ring at the feet of Ric Razor and slides in holding the other one. He stands infront of Razor with his chair drawn and dares him to stand up and trade licks.] JP: It appears trading five-knuckle blackouts isn't enough for Cappy... he wants to trade metal chair shots now! SW: This should be something to watch. [Razor spits out a mouth full of blood. Literally. He picks up the chair... wipes his bloody hair out of his face and rares back, and here they go. Trading chair shots to see who can outlast who... TACKS... RAZOR... TACKS... RAZOR... TACKS... RAZOR... BOTH! ...and they both connect with each other at the same time, and _both_ men fall down to the mat. Both, just bloody and battered beyond recognition.] JP: And both men go down! SW: I think anyone would after four-viscious chairshots like that... JP: Both men are bloody... bloody messes. [Neither man is moving at all. The ref hasn't even begun a ten-count, mainly because, he was told not to. Let this baby go until there's a winner or no possible way it can continue, and he's doing just that. The ref is checking in on both men.] SW: What happens if neither man can continue? JP: As far as I know, there are no standing ten counts in this match. However, if the ref determines neither man can continue... he can call this a draw. SW: All I know... is it looks like a car wreck out there. JP: That it does. [Still, neither man has moved. The ref declares he's going to raise arms and if they hit the mat three times... he's calling it a draw. He starts with Razor. RAZOR: ONCE TACKS: ONCE RAZOR: TWICE TACKS: TWICE RAZOR: THRICE! [Crowd boos.] TACkS: THRICE! [Ding, Ding, Ding. We head over to Ted Bemby for the explanation.] TB: Ladies and gentlemen... due to the fact neither man could continue, this match has beem decided... a DRAW! [Crowd boos. They're not too happy about that at all. In the ring... neither man has moved yet. They're both still just bloody lumps, laying on the mat. The ring has table shards, tacks, blood... everything strewn out across it.] JP: A draw... a not many fans are happy with that, but medically, neither man could continue. Hell, I'm amazed they lasted that long at the wicked... destrutable pace they were going at. SW: All you have to do is take one look at the ring and see it was a virtual warzone... I think anyone can respect what these two men put their bodies through. Even I can... and this isn't exactly my cup of tea. JP: As the officials clear out the ring of both bodies and tacks... splinters, and just about everything else imagineable... let's go to the back where we have word, Sean White is standing by! [We come into view of the trainers office where Sean White is sitting on a table top, being stitched up after that attack from behind he was the recipient of earlier. By Seth Alexander, who has been harping on a face-to-face with White since coming to HIT.] SW: I'm gonna make this short and sweet. We still have the Treasure State title defense coming up, so I'll get you back to is as soon as possible. Right now, I have an address for the man that put me here, getting stitched up. I tried to ignore you. I tried to let you be your own man in HIT, without _any_ involvement from me. That way, all you had to blame was yourself when you failed again. And again. And again. However, your little stunt earlier? It won't fly with me. Now, I'm going to get involved and make _sure_ you fail. Now you've made it personal. Attacking not only me from behind, but also a man that I consider a true friend aside from this wrestling business. So, on the next HIT TV! card, you will be in one corner... and in the other? Two men with a score to settle with you. Rick O'Shay and Jim Shue. Now, take it back to the stars of HIT! [We fade out from the back and are brought back into full view of Jammer and Sara who sit at the announcers booth, waiting to get the show on the road for the main event of tonight's lineup.] JP: Sean White handing down the verdict on Seth Alexander... and you know, it's well overdue. Alexander has been intentionally trying to hurt wrestlers on the HIT roster and now, he's attacked the man that runs the show... and that's just crossing the line. SW: So what? JP: So what? If he had any other job, his job would be canned. But right now, we have the main event... Tim Brock, the newly crowned Treasure State champion will make his first defense of the title right here tonight, as he takes on Jack Diamond in a bullrope match. SW: His first _successful_ title defense, you should say. JP: That remains to be seen. Jack Diamond is still furious over the charades pulled earlier tonight by Tim Brock, in which he attacked his family. SW: He didn't attack them! JP: Physically, no. Verbally? Yes. SW: Oh brother... what are we in? First grade? Can't take some ribbing? JP: Well, Jack Diamond's family is still on hand for the match... and I'm sure they, much like most of this jampacked audience would love to see Diamond dish out some Outlaw Justice... and right now, let's head to the backstage area where the champion is standing by with Trish Compton. [Smack. Smack. The loud smacks of bubblegum. We come into view and see Tim Brock, the Treasure State champion standing by with Trish Compton. He has the title slung over his shoulder amd a shit eating grin.] TC: Tim Brock, the question of the hour is, why? Why did you verbally assault Jack Diamond's family? [Brock eyes the goods on Compton and responds.] TB: Baby cakes, much like my star power, my ego just continues to grow. I'm _your_ champion, and as such, I can do whatever I damn well please. That includes, taking shots at the lineage of this title. [Tim Brock pulls out a big metal binder with like 5,000 pages in it. He holds is up for all to see the title on it that says "Rick O'Shay's promos transcribed".] These puppies didn't do Rick O'Shay a damn bit of good in keeping this title, but I'm a man that respects history, Trish. I don't respect much, but history is one exception. So, I'm sure I can put them to good use and help forge my own little legacy. [Brock smacks on that gum like a cocky son of a bitch.] Being _your_ champion also allows me the luxury of saying what I want, when I want. Not like Jack Diamond stopped me, did he? [Trish butts in.] TC: Actually... [Brock snatched the mic from her before she can finish.] TB: The answer is no, he didn't. Did you see _your_ champion run? Was _your_ champion cut off mid-sentence? Nope. I'd finished what I had to say. _All_ of what I had to say. [Lies. Trish rolls her eyes like, "oh brother".] The pure and plain simple fact of the matter is, this title? It gives me the license to Thrill by _any_ means necessary. Being king of the mountain has it's perks. I'll see you in the ring when I make title defense number one a successful one and make you proud to have me as _your_ champion. [With that, we fade down to the ring and get set for the match.] Highway To Hell'ena ...+................................+.. ooooo ooooo .oooo. ooooo ooooo....|Treasure State Title Match |.. `888' `888' .dP""Y88b `888' `888' ...+................................+.. 888 888 ]8P' 888 888 ....|Tim Brock | 888ooooo888 .d8P' 888ooooo888 ....| v/s | 888 888 .dP' 888 888 .....| Jack Diamond| 888 888 .oP .o 888 888 +................................+ o888o o888o 8888888888 o888o o888o |Written By: Jase | Highway To Hell'ena +................................+ [Fade down to Bemby.] TB: Ladies and gentlemen... our next match is a bull-rope match for the Treasure State Title! The object of the match is to attach one end of the rope to your opponent and the other to yourself and drag your opponent around the ring touching all four turnbuckles! Introducing first, the challenger... here is, the OUTLAW, JACK DIAMOND! [Cue: Outlaw Torn by Metallica.] #I ride the dirt, I ride the tide #I search the outside, search inside #I wait my whole life time #An Outlaw Torn #I'm an Outlaw Torn [And out steps to the biggest pop you'll hear in your entire lifetime, from a small arena like this, Jack Diamond. Sure, they may grow'em bigger in those super leagues but down here, in small arenas, this is about as big as it gets. At the top of the entrance way, out steps "Outlaw" Jack Diamond. Wearing a large studded cowboy hat, leather chaps and vest. His handle- -bar mustache is also something you notice right off the bat.] #I'm an Outlaw #Bitter when I was born #I'm an Outlaw #And I'm Torn [Diamond steps into the ring and eyes down Tony Dunn and then his two opponents. He takes off his hat and gets ready to fight.] JP: Diamond just blew a kiss to his wife and darling kids... and he looks ready to rumble now. SW: Darling? Hmmmph. JP: They are a nice looking family... you have to respect Diamond for defending their honor. [Back to Bemby.] TB: And his opponent... the Treasure State champion... from the city of brotherly love, here is _YOUR_ champion... the THRILLAH, TIM BROCK! [Cue: Denial by Sevendust] #All I hear is a scream #Let's not stop until we bleed #The more you spit out your mouth #The less I beleive [Tim Brock comes out from the back wearing a tattered and torn shirt that reads "Thrillah" on it. His hair and body is wet like he just stepped out of the shower. He looks around to the crowd and snarls his lip at them. Residing on his shoulder is the Treasure State title.] #Denial seems it had to come #Relied on me to say it all #Denial has left you all alone [Brock makes his way down to the ring and hops up onto the apron, and then hops right into the ring. Leaping over the top ropes, showing off his athleticism. He looks ready to fight.] SW: And there is... JP: Please, don't. SW: _YOUR_ champion! JP: That is already annoying. SW: Get used to it... you'll be hearing it a lot from here on out. JP: Just another reason for me to root for Jack Diamond here. [Brock hands over the title to the ref who then hands it to the time keeper. Brock is still smacking on that gum in a cocky fashion as Jack Diamond just shoots bullets through him with his eyes. Brock looks over at Diamonds wife, winks and blows a kiss and before he can turn back around to look at Diamond, he's taken down with a huge lariat from the big man.] JP: Not smart at all by the champ. [Ding, Ding, Ding.] JP: And we're underway here in the Treasure State Title matchup... Tony Dunn has already went on record that he will be in this match. However, as far as we've been told, he's not scheduled to be here. SW: And you honestly think that matters to Dunn? JP: Well... no, as a matter of fact, I know it doesn't matter to him. SW: And besides... it's not like Sean White told him he _couldn't_ get involved in the match. As far as I know, these types of matches are no-dq. JP: They are. [Diamond picks Brock up and he isn't even trying to be fancy about it. He just hauls off and punches Brock in the head, sending him right back down to the mat. He then drops and elbow to his face. Diamond puts his forearm on the chin of Brock and puts all his weight on it. Brock is squirming trying to get free as Diamond says "I'm gonna teach ya a lesson, son."] JP: And Jack Diamond is going to do just that... SW: What? JP: Teach this young, egotistical chump a lesson or two. SW: Yeah, right. JP: Sara, you don't know the male code. SW: Oh yeah? JP: There's two things you don't do to a man if you're another man... you don't cheap shot him from behind and you don't mess with his family. Tim Brock is guilty of both. [Diamond lets go of the, uh, move and picks Brock back up. He hooks him up and takes him down with a viscious gutbuster down across his knee. Brock is on the mat and tries to crawl away from the big burly brawler... but he doesn't get far, when Diamond grabs his foot and pulls him back towards him. Brock, out of desperation, fires one boot to Diamond's face, and another... and another and finally, Diamond lets go.] SW: How about _that_ for spunk! JP: Most like a desperate man who's bitten off more than he can chew, if you ask me. SW: Pfft. Don't speak about _your_ champion that way. JP: First off, he's not _my_ champion... unless you're talking about Jack Diamond. SW: Ha... as if. [Diamond is holding his face after that last series of kicks. Brock is quickly to his feet, he hops onto the ropes and springboards off the second set, catches Diamond by the head and takes him down with a springboard bulldog. Brock quickly rolls Diamond up for a pin, only to be informed by the ref that pinfalls don't count in this match.] JP: There are no pinfalls in this match... you'd think Tim Brock, as perfect as he is, would take it upon himself to know the rules. SW: He has far more important things to worry about... JP: What is more important that the rules of a title match-up? SW: I don't know... deciding what pretty, petite, blonde female you're going to escort to your victory party? JP: First off... he has to win. Secondly, I think Trish Compton already has a date for the post-event party. SW: Say wha? No way was I talking about that taco-tart! [Brock lays Diamond's arm out on the mat... holds it down, bucks up like a bronco and drives a viscious knee into the elbow region. He bucks up again... and delivers a second knee to the elbow of Jack Diamond. He does it again... and again... and again. Finally, Diamond pulls his arm free and begins to nurse it.] JP: I may not like Brock... but he is a tenacious fighter. He smells an injury and goes right after it. With about eighty-five percent of Diamond's arsenal including his upper-body and arms, taking his arms out of the ballgame is a pretty smart move. SW: Naturally... it is _your_ champion we're talking about. JP: If you say that one more time... SW: What? What are you going to do? [Brock now grabs the leg of the big man and pull him to the ropes. He lays the big man's leg across the bottom rope and kicks it... once, twice... I think we'll end on thrice. Diamond jerks his leg back towards himself and is wincing in pain.] JP: Brock is going after Diamond's leg now... I guess if you're not strong enough to overpower an opponent, the next best thing is to make sure he can't do so to you. SW: You're giving Brock a lot of compliments... I think _your_ champ is growing on you. JP: Grrrr. It's bad enough we have to hear him say that every three seconds. We can live without you doing it. [Brock isn't going to let it go... however. He grabs Diamond's leg and lays it across the rope again. This time, he straddles it... jumps up and sits down on Diamond's leg ala Bret Hart style. He continues to do such a couple more times until... _OOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPH!!!_ ...to a very large crowd pop, Diamond raises his leg up and Brock's nuts land right on the knee of Diamond. Brock clutches his jewels and just falls over right there.] JP: Eeeeek! SW: Damn... there went my prospect of a fun night. JP: I'm sure the champs kids will come out punch-drunk after that jarring knee to the groin region. [Brock is laying in the fetal position... still holding his testicals. Diamond is using the ropes to help himself up off the mat. His elbow and leg are still hurting as he brings himself to hios feet. Brock is getting some recovery time as Diamond is testing that knee. He places his foot on the mat and puts an increasing amount of pressure on it, to see exactly how messed up it might be.] JP: Diamond trying to test out that knee... make sure it's good to go. SW: Think he's gonna throw in the towel? JP: Ummm. Let's see... how about, no? [Diamond satisfied that his knee is "ok" to continue, hobbles over to where Tim Brock is still laying after that, uh, nut buster. Diamond gives the "slit throat" sign which gets a ton of applause and cheers... he bends over to pick Tim Brock up and... __WHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!__ ...deja vu. Tony Dunn is in the ring again and this time, he hits Diamond from behind with a steel chair.] JP: WHAT IN THE HELL IS HE DOING HERE... AGAIN! SW: Don't act surprised, Jammer. He said he was going to be in this match come hell or highwater, and to be honest... I'm glad he is. I'm not dressed for either occasion. JP; What occasion? SW: Hell or highwater, you dummy. JP: Yeah... that was _so_ obvious. How did I miss that? [/sarcasm] [Dunn isn't wasting any time, either. He grabs the bullrope which is laying off to the side and puts it around his wrist. He attaches the other end to Jack Diamond's wrist and tightens it up. He then touches the first turnbuckle... ...he drags the big Outlaw slowly but surely and... ...tags the second turnbuckle... ...moving onto the third.] JP: This is all well and good that Tony Dunn is one-peg away from gaining the victory... but is he even in this match! SW: The ref hasn't tossed him yet... hasn't intervened. I guess he is. JP: It'd be nice if people would tell us these things. Uh, ladies and gents... Tony Dunn _might_ be mere moments away from becoming the Treasure State champion. I stress the word might, because we have no confirmation he's a part of this matchup. SW: Well, if he wins, I'd hate to be the one that tells him he didn't gain the title. That could get a little messy. [Tony Dunn is struggling hauling the near 300-pound Outlaw to the third turnbuckle, however he's within inches and... ...tags the third one... ...he's moving onto the fourth one. The crowd is getting antsy.] JP: Dunn is moving right along here... he has almost completed the dash for all four turnbuckles, and I suppose, if he gets this last one, we're looking at the _new_ Treasure State champion. SW: _NEW_ doesn't sound as good as _YOUR_. JP: Well... if Dunn touches this last turnbuckle, you might want to get used to it. [Indeed. Dunn is just moments away from _possibly_ becoming Treasure State champion. He's about a foot away from the fourth turnbuckle... he reaches out and... __WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!__ ...Tim Brock comes flying in and takes Tony Dunn out with a flying forearm smash. Brock quickly jerks the bullrope off Dunn's wrist to break his attempt at winning, and puts the rope around his wrist.] JP: Tim Brock... from out of nowhere, has just possible saved his title reign. SW: I never had any doubts. JP: I guess those beads of sweat are just from the hot light beams, huh? Or possibly the forty-five degree temperature outside? SW: Exactly. JP: Yeah, right. [Brock is now trying to tag the turnbuckles... he gets the first one rather easily, but is having trouble dragging the rather large Outlaw. He's just a few inches away from the second turnbuckle when he is suddenly jerked backwards into the waiting arms of Jack Diamond!] JP: OH LORDY... BROCK IS ABOUT TO TAKE A RIDE ON THE OUTLAW TIDE! SW: Corny... just absolutely corny, Jammer. JP: Hey, it worked. SW: Yeah, sure it did. Just when I think you can't top yourself, you do. What's next? The Thrillah' is as smooth as vanilla? JP: Well, you'd be the one to ask on that one. [Diamond is indeed, on his feet which was making it all that much harder for Brock to you know... drag him. Diamond picks Brock up as he carems to him... hoists him and takes him down _hard_ with a spinebuster slam. Diamond is up to his feet to capitalize on the move, but is quickly taken down by Dunn who comes in and does the old school King Kong Bundy, run at'cha and smach my fat arms together... catching your head inbetween em, move. Also known as the Venis-fat trap.] JP: I have no idea what to call that move... but painful is sure is! Both meaty parts of the arms smacks on your ears at the same time... SW: We don't need the technical term, Jammer. Just say, Diamond got messed up. JP: Well, that he did. [The move stuns Diamond... Dunn kicks him in the stomach, hooks him up and takes him down for the ride... ...no, no. Diamond blocks the DDT attempt and picks Dunn up and delivers _another_ spinebuster slam. This one to Tony Dunn. Diamond stands up and looks at the ref and asks "Is he in the friggin' match?!?!? Get him outta here!"] JP: I agree with Diamond... we need to know, is Dunn or isn't he in this match? SW: He's been in there this long... no one has told him to leave. My money is on the fact, that Sean White has signed off on this. JP: Or else he's still being stiched up from that attack he suffered at the hands of Seth Alexander earlier. SW: Eitherway... Dunn is out here and he's involved. How official it is, who cares? [Diamond still connected with Brock on the bullrope, tags the first turnbuckle. He quickly moves right along to the second one and tags it... he seems to be having a _very_ easy time dragging Brock along for the ring... he reaches out and gets the third one and the crowd cheers begin to elevate in volume as Diamond is just mere feet away from being the third man to claim the Treasure State title...] JP: LISTEN TO THESE FANS! They are cheering Diamond on as he's just a few steps away from claiming the Treasure State title! SW: Come on Tim! Dunn! You guys gotta stop this! [Diamond has slowed up somewhat as he's neared the fourth turnbuckle... he gets this one, it's all over folk. He pulls... tugs... and he's inches way... SIX INCHES... FIVE INCHES... FOUR INCHES... THREE INCHES... TWO INCHES... ONE INCH... ...Diamond, a mere finger tip away from claiming the title, as his legs cut out from under him by none other than Tim Brock who spun around and kicked his knee out from under him.] JP: Oh my... Diamond is stopped just a few inches away from the turnbuckle! SW: Every inch counts, Jammer. Trust me. JP: Hrmmmm. You truly are the most perverted woman I've met, Sara. [Diamond is quickly trying to get back up to touch the turn buckle and Brock is frantically trying to take that bullrope off his wrist. The race for the title is on... Diamond reaches up... Brock pulls off... ...and Diamond touches the turnbuckle, the ref looks in and proclaims Brock had the rope off his wrist first!] JP: DID HE... DID HE? NEW CHAMP! SW: NO! The ref says Brock got the rope off his wrists first! JP: So... soooooo close! [Crowd boos.] JP: The fans don't like the call one bit. Can't say I blame them. SW: The ref can only call what they see, Jammer. [Brock is quickly trying to beat down Diamond here... he runs in and just starts throwing knees and feet... anything he can to keep that bastard down in the corner. However, from behind the big rebel is on the loose with the same chair he hit Diamond with earlier! He rares back and... __SMMMMMMMAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCKKK!!!__ ...drills the champ in the back of the head. Dunn holds the chair up high and the fans boo him. However, about mid-boo, they begin to cheer and Dunn looks puzzled.] JP: WHAT ON EARTH! IS THIS AN OPEN INVITATION MATCH? SW: Well, he did say _no one_ can stop him! JP: Stepping in with these big boys... he is probably mistaken! [As Dunn turns around, he's grabbed around the throat by the meaty, uh, yeah... paw of the BIG MAN ON CAMPUS... KEVIN COPIOUS. Copious has Dunn setup for the chokeslam and the fans are loving this. They're chanting "GO ON BIG MAN!" with the intermentent claps inbetween. Dunn is more shocked than he is scared however.] SW: Oh, give me a break! JP: Kevin Copious has interjected himself into this matchup... and he has Dunn by the throat and is going for that chokeslam he's surprisingly hit the past two attempts he's given it. SW: Yeah... against Robbie Delks and Hook Watkins who couldn't defend their picnic basket from and ant hill, Jammer. JP: Be that as it may... Copious has Tony Dunn by the throat is is about to deliver his third straight chokeslam, possibly! SW: There sure are a lot of "possibles" in this match. JP: It happens when people jump into an active fight without being announced... [Copious is going for the chokeslam... he tries to hoist Dunn up, and can't. He tries again, and can't. He tries one last time... __SMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKK!!!__ ...and Dunn gets tired of him and just hits him in the head with the chair he had in his hand. Copious is laid out.] JP: So much for that. SW: Again... who was right and who was wrong, Jammer? JP: Well, I've learned over the past few weeks not to count Kevin Copious out. He might have taken the short bus to school... he might be diminitive in size, but he does do some incredible things for a man that weighs a buck-seventy-five. [Dunn drops the chair and picks Copiuous up. He throws his head between his legs... hooks one arm and then the other. And he takes Copious down with the Confederate Drop... and Copious is down for the count now. The ref waves in medics to come get him out of the ring. Dunn is proud of himself as he smiles for the camera.] JP: Oh... get on with the match you glutonous hog. SW: Let him enjoy his whoop-assery. JP: He beat up a man half his size with a chair, Sara. What is there to be proud up? [His smiles are shortlived... as Diamond comes in and just clocks him from behind. Diamond is quickly on top of Dunn however, as he picks him up... hooks him around the stomach, and Diamond takes Dunn down with a german suplex. Diamond isn't done however, as he mounts Dunn from the front and begins to deliver mounted punches. _Viscious_ mounted punches.] JP: Diamond with a _lot_ of rage to get out of his system over strained relations with Tony Dunn, is doing that right now! SW: Strained relations? I though Dunn broke off all relations... JP: Yeah, by befriending Diamond for close to six-years, only to backstab him six-weeks ago to pursue his own interests. SW: And what's wrong with that? JP: Another part of the male code, Sara. Stick a knife in my back... I jam one in your's just a little deeper. [Diamond continues to just unload on Dunn... and out of nowhere, Brock comes in and spear tackles Diamond right off of Dunn. Dunn crawls away to a corner. Tim Brock's corner, of all places. Diamond has rolled over and gotten the advantage on Brock and those two are rolling around on the mat like a girl fight, throwing punches at one another.] JP: And business is picking up in Helena! SW; Argh. Yet another match you dish out that cheese ball line... I know of only one way to combat that. JP: Don't... SW: Look at _your_ champion go! [Dunn rolls out of the ring and lays his head on the apron resting when he spots the large metal binder Brock brought out. The hefty steel binder that reads "Rick O'Shays promos transcribed". He picks the big, bulky thing up and hops into the ring.] JP: You talk about an insult to injury... Tim Brock isn't above taking jabs at anyone on the roster and Tony Dunn has just eyed the most outrageous of the bunch. SW: Which is? JP: It's not bad enough Tim Brock beat the man on an off week... but now he's carrying around a supposed "book" of promos from Rick O'Shay. SW: And a _thick_ book at that, Jammer. JP: I've noticed. SW: Well... O'Shay is known to be long winded. I just love shrewd humor in a man. [Diamond and Brock are standing now...Diamond's back is facing Dunn. Dunn comes up and swings the binder... __KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA_THUUUUUUUUUUUUUNK__ ...and it sends Diamond down to the mat. Brock stands there and claps... and smiles at Tony Dunn. Dunn looks at Brock like they're in cahoots!] JP: I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! Tony Dunn and Tim Brock are in on this together! SW: Innocent until proven guilty mean anything to you? JP: They've pretty much avoided each other the entire match... and look at that shit eating grin on Brock's face now! SW: So? JP: AND NOW THEY'RE GONNA SHAKE HANDS! [Brock walks up to shake Dunn's hand... and Dunn rares the binder back and swings it at Brock's head this time! _WHIIIIFFFFF!_ ...Brock with his cat-like quickness dodges it... he seems dazed however, that his apparent deal with Tony Dunn is now off the table. However, as Dunn turns around, Brock jumps and spins and... __SMMMMMMAAAAACCCCCCCCCK!!!__ ...Brock delivers a spinning heel kick to the binder which drives it back into Dunn's head. It opens the Rebel up.] JP: What the... SW: Who was right again! JP: Oh, there was a deal on! Tony Dunn just decided to backstab Tim Brock much like he did his longtime partner! SW: Correction. Tried to backstab Tim Brock... the Thrillah' seems to have caught the better end of that exchange! [As Dunn comes back around towards Brock, he's dropped the binder. Brock grabs him and hooks him up... spins around him and drops him on the mat. His flip-over DDT move, known as:] SW: THE DRILLAH FROM THE THRILLAH! JP: And this one is over! All Brock has to do is put the bullrope on and touch all four turnbuckles and he has this thing won. SW: Still _your_ champion! JP: Possibly. He still has to walk the walk, Sara. [It's not over for Brock, however. He puts the bullrope on Diamond's arm... and then puts it on his own. He tags the first turnbuckls... ...he's grunting and tugging for all he's worth, and finally tags the second turnbuckle... ...more of the same ol'... and he gets the third turnbuckle!] SW: Three down... one to go! JP: Diamond is coming to... it might not be over! [Brock is trying for all he's worth and Diamond has come too... Brock is mere inches from the fourth and final turnbuckle, however. Diamond notices that and begins to rare back on the rope. Brock is pulling forward towards the turnbuckle and we have a stalemate about four inches from the winning turnbuckle!] SW: COME ON! ONE LUNGE... ONE LUNGE! JP: Easier said than done when there's a near three-hundred pound man on the other end of that rope pulling against ya! [Brock is grunting... trying everso hard to get to that turnbuckle. Diamond is digging down for all he's worth to get to the last turnbuckle... __SNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!__ ...the rope breaks! Brock goes flying into the turnbuckle and tags it! Diamond goes flying back into the other turnbuckle and can't believe it!] SW: YES! YES! Who was right again, huh Jammer? Still _YOUR_ champion, Tim Brock! JP: Hold on just a second... is the ref going to give that to him? I always thought a broken rope meant you had to go to pinfalls to end it. SW: Now, now. The rules say touch all four turnbuckles... Brock did that! JP: But the rope broke, Sara! [The ref thinks about it for a second. Everyone is sitting on the edge of their seats.] JP: And the call is what? Give us a call, ref! SW: He's gotta be... gotta be _your_ champ still! [Ding, Ding, Ding.] JP: And there's your answer. SW: And still Treasure State champion... Tim Brock! [Brock grabs the Treasure State title and gets out of dodge. He walks halfway up the aisle and holds his title up high as Jack Diamond sits against the turnbuckle still, holding the broken rope up to his face. Eyeing it down. Tony Dunn has rolled over onto his stomach and is eyeing down Tim Brock as he makes his way up the aisle.] JP: As much as I hate to friggin' say it... still _your_ champ, the 'Thrillah' Tim Brock... and oh' boy, what a night! [As we get the final shots of Tim Brock holding the title up high, still with the broken rope dangling from his wrist... and Jack Diamond holding the other peice of the rope we make the ol' fade to black... ...END PROGRAM.] - On the web: http://www.angelfire.com/lww/hit.htm mail: mail4hit@yahoo.com