[The back hallways of the Klezskavanian Cultural Center: the halls are wood panelled. Silver plaques, assorted stitched wall hangings and Klezskavanian art (which looks a lot like last night's hangover) cover the wall. The camera chases the lovely and talented Blaze Crimson down the hallway, where she tries to speak to the camera and keep up.]
BC: Welcome to "Contains Spoilers," DCWL fans, and we've just caught wind of a DCWL old-schooler in the house tonight! That's right! And it's one of the good things about Kyle Hayden is that *I* get all the real scoops! Eat it, Dan Clear!
[She catches up to a man and a woman arm in arm.]
BC: From 2003 to 2008, she was one of the top valets in wrestling... ladies and gentlemen... MISTRESS DANDELION!
[The man is in a ruffled shirt and red velvet jacket. His hair is shoulder-length and stringy and his short beard is uneven. He is a very oily character. The woman is presumably Mistress Dandelion; she is six feet tall with blonde hair. But she is also in her mid-thirties and looks like she has seen better days. Her face is unnatural like a Barbie doll or Playboy model and she has two abnormally firm looking fleshy globes where her breasts should be. Obviously Dandy has been studying the Pamela Anderson Beauty Regimen.]
BC: Mistress Dandelion, what are--
[Blaze cuts her sentence short when she looks at Mistress Dandelion's face.]
BC: ...What happened to *you*?
[Mistress Dandelion speaks, voice husky from smoking, slightly slurring her words.]
MD: Hey, Blaze. I'll tell you what happened to me. I met Mr. Von Tantamount here, and he got me a match just like Jackson Hunter. Isn't that right, daddy?
[The oily man in the ruffled shirt is presumably Klezskavanian diplomat Leo Von Tantamount. He speaks only in Klezskavanian.]
LVT: Я не умею, кто она. J установить, что мы следовать D состав кошек, однако не.
MD: Yeah, I'm gonna wrestle tonight and Leo here is going to do the ring announcing instead of that boring old Buckley Luck, aren't you, daddy?
[She snuggles up close to him. Von Tantamount bursts into his best Buckley Luck impression.]
LVT: Я вышел к инструкции этот убой он просто оползень быть!!!!
MD: So look out Juri and Mina Eyre and Sierra Browne, the real top female in the DCWL is back!
BC: Uhm...
MD: What is it, Miss Microphone Holder?
[Blaze bristles.]
BC: I don't want to bring you and... ugh, "daddy" back to reality, but Dandy... You were never that good a wrestler. You had three or four matches where you threw a few kicks and you maybe won one match. You were never that great in the ring.
MD: Oh really? Why am I always remembered as the top female of the DCWL, huh fire crotch?
[Blaze can no longer remain professional.]
BC: Because you're a box of Timbits: five bucks and the whole locker room can get some. You were better known for spreading your legs, Dandy.
MD: You're right, Blaze.
[Suddenly Dandelion lifts one leg almost vertically in the air and brings her spiked heel down on Blaze Crimson's forehead with a huge axe kick!]
MD: Spreading my legs does have its advantages.
[Crimson is downed, starting to bleed from the forehead, and Dandelion adds a stiletto-assisted stomp before Von Tantamount takes her arm and sleazes her away.]
LVT: Я жду конечно то вы используете раздел то одного для его папы.
MD: Whatever, Leo. I still have a debt to collect from Kyle Hayden for what he did to me six years ago.
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[It was a dark and stormy night. Which, considering we're in Seattle after all, is perfectly average weather. Amidst the thunder and the lightning raging outside the Klezskavanian Social Club Society of Seattle, we find an old crone huddled inside, whispering to the village elder. Speaking in hushed tones, the camera swiftly approaches the couple so as to record their conversation.]
Old Crone:I saw a bear I tell you, a huge monstrous bear!
Village Elder: Good Lord above! What did it look like?
Old Crone: It had brown hair, a brown beard and hair all over... and it was wearing a singlet with a whole lot of stars around it with some red white and blue wristbands! Just like any other bear, really; but HUGE!
"NOT JUST ANY OTHER BEAR!!!!"
[Shouted the rain-soaked American Freebear!! Bursting through the front door besides the old couple, wet hair matted against his face like some fat soggy Cousin It character, the American Freebear makes his startling appearence to "Contains Spoilers"! Thus he proceeds to shakes his mighty mane of hair, soaking all those around him until his hair regains it's former "sproingy" quality. Stepping inside the arena, the great big monster wrestler grabs a microphone and addresses all the... Klezskavanian-Americans, I guess.]
Freebear: CORELLA!!! You tried to paint me as a coward, as a crybaby, as a WHINER!!!! Well the only ones cowering now are those Kleptomanians... Kollektkallians... THOSE HILLBILLIES!!!! Hate this place! Ever since I've joined this podunk wrestling organisation, I've been facing redneck wigger trash or wasted a full half an hour of my time tusslin' with Drake Tungsten! Such tedium would drive anyone mad! YOU NEVER SUFFERED AS I HAVE SUFFERED, LEON CORELLA!!!
[Freebear helps himself to some punch.]
Freebear: One title defense and you're through, Corella; the American Freebear will make sure of that! Because while you're busy weezing and proclaiming yourself to be the best in the game or sneaking up putting respectable aerial bears in your game over or whatever other Nintendo references you want to pepper your moveset with; I'll be coming down from above, unsuspected, unseen and more importantly un-frikkin-stopable! No brakes on the American Freebear Express, destination DCWL championship gold; prepare to get your tickets PUNCHED!
[We suddenly fade to...]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Cut to what looks like a high school gymnasium. The DCWL ring is set up in the center of the hall. About fifty or so rabidly cheering Klezskavanians surround it; they all sit on mats on the floor. No guardrails, no lighting effects. This looks like a strictly low budget affair. Pan to one side of the entrance way (i.e., the door to the gym) where Rich Manning and Christian Chazz sit at a table bedecked with the light blue and orange Klezskavanian flag. Manning looks to be grinning and bearing it, his usual professional self. Chazz has found himself thrown into the proceedings; dressed in a white t-shirt with the Klezskavanian flag printed on the front. He wears a tweed newsboy cap.]
RM: Welcome, DCWL fans, the Klezskavanian Cultural Center of Seattle, Washington, and this, our eleventh show, is "Contains Spoilers!" Two championships are on the line tonight, including Leon Corella's first Grand championship defense when he takes on American Freebear in our main event! And joining me once again is Christian Chazz. Chazz, tonight promises to be a weird one.
CC: Mahk-lehk, DCWL zeklos! Veylat Chazzchristian!
RM: Chazz, if you don't know how to speak the language, you just shouldn't.
CC: Darmok and Chazz at Tanagra.
RM: Drop it.
CC: You're no fun any more.
RM: And a bit of a bombshell to start the evening, Mistress Dandelion is in the house and she's in a match tonight against Molly Molotov.
CC: There was a time when Mistress Dandelion was a LOT of a bombshell, but, yeah, she's not aging gracefully. Molly Molotov may be on a cold streak, but she should be able to take apart Dandy.
RM: We're about to start the evening off right there, but first, let's hand it over to tonight's ring announcer, Klezskavanian diplomat Leo Von Tantamount!
[Cut to the ring, where Von Tantamount is as greasy as before, this time with some staining on his velvet jacket. He raises the microphone to his lips and his voice echoes over the modest sound system.]
LVT: Готово вы конец, котор нужно использовать?
[The crowd responds.]
KLEZSKAVANIANS: Да наездник!
LVT: Сиэтл! Готово вы конец, котор нужно использовать?
[Briefly cut to Buckley Luck sitting on the floor amongst the Klezskavanians, looking unamused.]
KLEZSKAVANIANS: ДА, НАЕЗДНИК!
LVT: После... этого для дюжин обслуживание и сотниы, наблюдающ домом.
[He inhales deeply, then bellows into the microphone.]
LVT: ПРЕПЯТСТВУЙТЕ США ГОТОВО КОНЕЦ КОТОРЫЙ БУДЕТ ИСПОЛЬЗУЕМЫМИ РЫКАМИ!
*DING DING DING*
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
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WINNER - Mistress Dandelion (Piledriver - 18:22)
RM: Mistress Dandelion wins!
CC: Mistress Dandelion wins?!
[MD rolls out of the ring, sweating and wheezing, where she falls into the arms of Leo Von Tantamount.]
RM: Well, I didn't think she had it in her, but evidently Leo Von Tan--
CC: [overlapping] "Daddy."
RM: --tamount gave her a little extra motivation.
[Dandy and LVT begin obnoxiously making out at ringside.]
CC: Anyone have any Maalox?
RM: And as our colleague Blaze Crimson found out earlier this evening, that Axe Kick is deadly when it hits right. Fortunate for Blaze (and for us) she wasn't injured and she's been calmed down.
CC: Unlike these two. Someone better get a crowbar between them before Leo Von T starts helping her practice stretching for her Axe Kick if you know what I mean...
RM: Yeah, cutting away would probably be a good idea...
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Backstage, Ozzie Emshamo, Gabby RioPaah and Offramp Alebua stare at nothing in particular. Behind them, the fourth member of the Annoyed Samoans, Moses Pupulolo walks up.]
MOSES: Hey guys! Long time no see!
[Ozzie, Gabby and Offramp remain oblivious. Or, in Ozzie's case, more oblivious.]
MOSES: So... how'd Ark of Triocalypse go? I mean... I know we didn't qualify as a team, but... I'm sure we're ranked pretty highly in the Trio division, right?
[No reply.]
MOSES: As for me, I got my ankle rehabbed and long story short... I'm back!
[Silence.]
MOSES: I'm glad you're all projecting our culture as stoic and taciturn. Keep it up.
[Offramp sighs. Gabby plays with her hair and starts humming "Freebird."]
OZZIE: Trousers.
MOSES: Okay, I got something that'll break us out of this slump. You know that match between Gunderson and Necro Bartender and Joe Pansac. Well, I just talked to Kevin Alloy and I sold him my soul to get into this match and make it a four corners match!
[No reaction.]
MOSES: You guys are right. I'm not going to overreact or put too much hope into the match, but I'm sure when I win it'll be a big boost to the Annoyed Samoans. Anyway, I'm up next. Wish me luck.
[They say nothing. Moses Pupulolo acts like they've just said good luck and exits.]
GABBY: You should have told him about what Klezskavanians believe about facial tattoos.
OFFRAMP: Gabby, there's no polite way to tell him that when steps in to the arena, he's going to be indicating he wants to have sex with their daughters.
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
RM: Well, Chazz, how about the surprise return of Moses Pupulolo?
CC: Oh, riveting. The Annoyed Samoans are *so* 2009, Rich.
RM: Well, in any case, the next match is going to feature one member of each full-time Trio in the DCWL, including the current Trio champions, Unique-- er, hello?
[Manning and Chazz both look up at the man who now stands in front of them. He is quite tall and almost equally thin with shoulder length dark hair combed back. He has a gaunt face and haunted expression. When he speaks, he is plainly American. He offers his hand to the befuddled commentary team.]
STRANGER: You're Rich Manning? Glad to meet you. And you?
CC: Uh... Christian Chazz.
STRANGER: Christian? You call yourself Christian. Good to meet you too, Christian.
RM: And... you are?
STRANGER: I was wondering if you boys could do me a favor and tell me where Dan Clear is.
CC: Dan Clear?
STRANGER: It's really important that I speak to him, fellas.
RM: Try backstage. Dan sort of comes and goes as he pleases.
[The stranger flashes a slight smile.]
STRANGER: All right, boys. All right. Y'all have a pleasant evening, now.
[He leaves, watching the now very unnerved commentators as he goes.]
CC: That was weird.
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
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WINNER - Danny Gunderson (Arizone Style DDT - 9:40)
[Gunderson rolls out of the ring, with the real genuine Trio belt in his hand. He eyes Joe Pansac up warily. Moses Pupulolo suddenly finds himself chased to the back by a Klezskavanian wielding a pitchfork.]
RM: Gunderson takes out Necro Bartender and it looks like he's settled the issue between Unique Element and the New Main Street Killas.
CC: Danny G makes a strong statement for Unique Element, but that look between him and Joe Pansac seems to indicate it's not over yet.
RM: One wouldn't think so, but Unique Element will have bigger fish to fry when they take on Mike Foyer and two partners of his choosing in three weeks at "The Devil Wears Lycra." They could be facing the number one contender for the Grand Championship for that matter.
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Momentary cut backstage. There are sounds of violence and then suddenly a loud *whack*, followed by silence. The camera crew is already racing to the sound of the action. They turn a corner and find in the wood paneling there is a crack and a hole the size of a human head. On the floor is an unconscious figure in a black leather jacket and red tights.]
[Max Turbo...]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Jackson Hunter, already in his ring gear. He wraps the last of the black athletic tape around his wrist. We hear a knock at the door.]
JAX: Unless you want to sell me a goat, come on it.
VOICE: Ah the great Mister Hunter! How nice to see you again.
[Into the frame steps the man himself, SPW Ambassador Henry Spikes. He is resplendent in his three piece navy blue suit, white shirt and red tie. Grinning from ear to ear, he extends a hand. Jax shakes it.]
JAX: Why if it isn't Hank himself. Taking some time off from teaching Paul Wolfowitz everything you know?
SPIKES: I was so happy to hear of your recovery and am thrilled to see you return to the active ranks again. I was hoping to catch up after Triocalypse, of course, but of course you couldn't stick around.
JAX: Welll, when you whack someone upside the head with a pipewrench, you tend to want to avoid any embarassing questions.
[The grin widens.]
SPIKES: Ah, of course! Some things never change. It is the same as years ago, when we started helping each other with our own noble goals - me to become Commissioner of the DCWL, you to become a two time Grand Champion - and through the DCWL boom, during our respective runs at the top of our fields. We will never change that which is essential to our own being. You will always drive to advance your cause as the greatest competitor this company has ever seen...
JAX: And you will always be attempting to schmooze evry human being you come in to contact with. Henry, you're trying to get me to do something.
[A laugh from the Ambassador.]
SPIKES: Very good, Mister Hunter. A man of your good humor and talent would be welcome anywhere, of course, but as much as the DCWL may mean to you I wonder if working under Kyle Hayden is really the best thing for you. A talented individual such as yourself deserves a more appreciative environment, to say nothing of a grander stage.
[He pulls out a business card.]
SPIKES: Perhaps Shootfire Pro could help you there.
[Spikes proffers the card. Jax takes it, and stares at it for quite a while.]
JAX: Shootfire. Big cards. Big money. Andrew Davis, Volga, Eddie Christian, Sammy Knight, Viper... I can't, Henry.
SPIKES: Not even consideration for an old friend?
JAX: The only fed that I ever felt a home at was the DCWL. They took me in, and let me be me. Maybe it's the whole "big fish in a little pond" thing, but everywhere else I bombed out. I like our Esteemed Commissioner as little as you do, but at least I know where I stand with him. And besides, SPW's Woman's Hardcore Champion happens to be a certain Psycho Hosebag acquaintance of mine. The last time I talked to her, she tried to... you know... kill me.
SPIKES: Very well, then. You may feel free to keep the card, of course. Should you need anything while you are here, just as in the old days, feel free to contact me. My number is on the card.
[He turns to leave.]
SPIKES: Best of luck, Mister Hunter.
[The Ambassador exits. Hunter holds the business card in his hand. He puts it in the pocket of his jacket hanging up on the wall.]
JAX: Exit strategy.
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
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WINNER - Mina Eyre (Reverse Kiss of the Vamp - 18:44)
[Eyre gets her hand raised and the Klezskavanians cower in abject terror. Some hold crucifxes and other hoist wreathes of garlic.]
RM: Mina Eyre gets the duke and Juri falters slightly. That could hurt her chances at "The Devil Wears Lycra," because we've just learned that Juri will challenge for the DCWL/SOW Unified Women's Championship. Sierra Browne has yet to taste defeat one-on-one in the DCWL and the Beautiful Leopard needs to be at her best. But Mina Eyre proved that today she was just a bit better.
CC: Yeah, that one went down to the wire, Manning. Really a clash of offensive styles there.
RM: Speaking of offensive, Dan Clear is standing by backstage, where he has apparently come across the Klezskavanian participant in tonight's battle royal. Dan?
CC: Wonder if that guy found him...
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[In front of the wood paneled back corridors of the Cultural Center stands Dan Clear, looking more smug and self-satisfied than he usually does.]
CLEAR: Chazz, Richard, tonight wrestling history will me made as the DCWL finally opens its doors to Klezskavanian athletes. Tonight, Klezskavania's top athlete competes for a shot at the Dangerous Championship. And the trailblazer that will burst through the glass ceiling that has been in place for decades, is none other than...
[Clear pauses to seem more important. The camera zooms out. Beside Dan Clear is a gentleman with red hair, huge muscles and a light blue and orange singlet. To the untrained eye, he looks alarmingly similar to Dan Clear's nephew.]
CLEAR: Kalebri Braskovic. From carrying bales of hay eighty miles in the harsh Klezskavanian winter, to single-handedly managing to qualify Klezskavania for the London Olympics in 2012, Braskovic will break down walls of prejudice against his people. Dan Clear. DCWL. Seattle.
[Braskovic seems to mutter, "how was that, Uncle Dan?" just as the camera cuts.]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Cut backstage briefly. There is general chaos in the wood paneled hallways of the Cultural Center. Through the crowd of panicked Klezskavanian peasants, there is a momentary glimpse of destroyed objects, and two broken bodies lying bloodied and prostrate on the tile floor.]
[Alton West and the Great Atma...]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
CC: My god, they're being picked off one-by-one. "Contains Spoilers" is turning into a slasher movie.
RM: Who is doing all this?
CC: Well not to name any names, but pretty much the entire DCWL roster tends to get their rocks off by randomly attacking one another.
RM: Folks, I think Max Turbo is going to be out of contention for this open battle royal to decide the next challenger for the Dangerous Championship.
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
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WINNER - Doug Foster (The Solution - 11:59)
RM: Foster takes it!
CC: Now that's what he's good at. Random attacks and dicking around bookings are one thing, but backing it up in the ring? Now I can get behind that.
RM: And Chazz, you have to think Marcus Davis is watching this and taking notes.
CC: Well, Alexander is still a relative rookie and he got taken to school by Foster. But at least the kid was wise enough to tap out of The Solution before Foster ripped him apart--
RM: Chazz, I've got to interrupt you, Blaze Crimson is standing by. Blaze, what's breaking backstage?
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Cut to Blaze Crimson among the wood paneling. A crowd of trainers are in the background.]
BC: Well, Rich, it's Plunderland all over again here with all these backstage attacks. Someone back here has been causing some real damage because now apparently, someone has taken out Julian Beckson and knocked him out and it looks like Beckson will not be participating in the Number One Contender's match later tonight.
RM: [voiceover] Blaze, do we have any idea who could be behind these assaults?
BC: On first blush, it could be anyone. It's Mike Foyer's M.O., this particular one could have been Thompson since we've seen him do this before. People were assuming it was Doug Foster initially because that was his style, but since this attack occured during his match that obviously rules him out, so it--
[She pauses and listens closely to the commotion behind her.]
BC: Rich, Chazz.... I just overhead the words "pipe wrench." I think things just got more complicated.
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Cut back to the announce table.]
RM: Well... Jackson Hunter was famous for his use of the pipe wrench on his opponents.
CC: I don't know, Rich. This isn't Jax's style.
RM: You think someone is framing him?
CC: Honestly... I could see something like this in Jackson Hunter's nature, but he's not the random sort!
RM: Well, no one could have predicted he'd attack Mike Anderson, Chazz.
CC: Maybe. I don't know.
RM: In any case, Jackson Hunter is up next and he's being challenged by Wolf Masterson. "Something Better" has his eye on the blank contract in Jax's possession.
CC: Yeah, Wolf has been stinging lately. He took the fall in Horrorshow's match against Unique Element back at "The Year We Make Contact," and he made it to the finals of the Ark of Triocalypse in his home town of St. Paul late last year. I think he wants a chance to redeem himself and beating Jackson Hunter would be a major milestone in his career.
RM: Wolf Masterson versus Jackson Hunter, coming up now!
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
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WINNER - Wolf Masterson (Searchlight Elbow - 15:50)
RM: WOLF DID IT!
[Masterson is ecstatic. Even though the Klezskavanians are mortified of him, Wolf leaps to the top buckle. Hunter just leans on the top rope in disbelief. He chuckles and shakes his head.]
CC: You did it, kid! You got that blank contract all to yourself! You did something better!
[Jax reaches out to ringside and picks up a briefcase. He dials in a few number and opens it. Jax crosses to the still celebrating Wolf Masterson and gives him a shove before shooting him an icy glare.]
CC: Uh-oh.
RM: I'm not so sure Jax wants to give this power up to Wolf Masterson.
[But Jax shakes Masterson's hand, pats him on the shoulder and hands over the sheet of paper. Wolf holds it aloft as Jax exits and "Something Better" by Danko Jones continues.]
CC: You earned it, kid!
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Backstage in the makeshift workspace at the Klezskavnian Cultural Center, Kyle Hayden sits with his feet up on the desk, reading a rather tattered magazine. One foot is bare, and the other is covered by a single sock. The DCWL owner takes a swig from a Thermos, and his face frowns like he was drinking Black Hole Brew. Enter Kevin Alloy, aka Satan, in his red robe and squeaky toy pitchfork.]
HAYDEN: How's it going out there, Kev?
KEVIN/SATAN: Well, someone is picking off the roster one by one. Someone used a pipewrench, a gold and black lacquered sledgehammer, and just now someone found a yellow steel chair.
[Kyle Hayden sits bolt upright.]
HAYDEN: My god! Who's down so far?
KEVIN/SATAN: Merton and Alton West, Max Turbo and Julian Beckson.
HAYDEN: Oh.
[His apathy is palpable.]
HAYDEN: Let me know if anyone else gets taken out, 'kay? Pipewrench? Gold sledgehammer? Yellow steel chair? Someone is setting someone up... How are things otherwise?
KEVIN/SATAN: The Klezskavanians haven't been giving us any trouble, although Satan has been getting his fair share of awkward looks.
HAYDEN: Well, your Unholiness, unlike the rest of the DCWL, they actually do believe that you are the real honest-to-goodness Lucifer. In fact, Leo Von Tantamount dinged my Blackberry and said that after the show they'd show their appreciation to me by exorcizing you from a virgin.
KEVIN/SATAN: Wait, Satan gets virgins now? And Satan wants to know where Kyle Hayden's shoes are.
HAYDEN: A very good question; apparently, part of us getting the venue is inducting me as an honorary Klezskavanian. Many years ago, the Klezskavanians were ousted from their ancestral homeland and the refugees were left with nothing except one sock, a cold cup of coffee and a five-year-old Sports Illustrated. And so, to induct me in to Klezskavanian society, I'm not allowed to run the show. I'm supposed to sit here all night reading about the Patriots winning the Super Bowl with one sock on and a specially consecrated Thermos of cold black coffee as a sign of respect to the Klezskavanian people.
KEVIN/SATAN: Wow! What an honor!
[Kyle Hayden dismissively returns to reading the 2005 Sports Illustrated.]
HAYDEN: Give me cancer now, God.
[Suddenly, the office door practically explodes open. Stepping through that doorway in full ring gear and sporting a rather pissed off expression, is none other than Big Mike Foyer! BMF closes the distance with surprising speed between himself and Alloy, ramming his forearm into the throat of the DCWL Commissioner and jacking him up against the wall so that the man formerly known as "Kill Dozer" would be at a height to look him directly in the eye...]
BMF: First, you will put my music back on for my match tonight. If you don't, I swear, I will go to the parking lot right now, tear that f**king Nissan Cube of yours apart, and shove it up your ass Piece by Piece...
[...Alloy's eyes widen at first, then narrow as he growls back at Big Mike...]
KEVIN/SATAN Your Soul is forfeit!! You will BURN for all eternity!!! Satan commands you to... *GLECK!!!*
[...Big Mike applies a little more pressure, effectively choking out Alloy's response...]
BMF: ...You ain't commanding SH*T!! Last I checked, the Devil was God's B*tch, and I follow the winning side motherf**ker!
[...Suddenly BMF points his free hand at Hayden...]
BMF: YOU!!! Don't go anywhere... I'd snap your twiggy little neck before you even got 4 feet down the hallway....
[Hayden looks up from the magazine.]
HAYDEN: Oh, hi, Michael. Didn't hear you come in. Something I can do for you?
[...Big Mike looks back to Alloy while responding to Hayden...]
BMF: Nope, I'll get to you in a minute, but first I want to hear this piece of shit tell me my music is back on...
[...He lets the pressure, placing that free hand back into Alloy's ribs to inflict a little pain and to help prop the heavy man up...]
KEVIN/SATAN: Fine, let the baby have his music back, but Satan will--
[...Big Mike grins, grips the man, and slings him across the room like a rag doll. Kevin Alloy smashes through a table on the far side of the room, crumpling into a heap. He then dusts his hands off and turns to Hayden, leaning across the DCWL owner's desk with a rather sizeable grin on his face...]
KEVIN/SATAN: ...Owwwwwww...
BMF: Now, you...
HAYDEN: Yes, Me...
BMF: ...Here's something you need to realize big bad boss man. You need every single guy you've got on that roster. DCWL ain't exactly ushering in talent by the droves. Hell if it weren't for Shootfire Pro and Spirit of Wrestling, the DCWL would be up sh*t creek without a paddle.
[Hayden frowns.]
HAYDEN: I find your lack of corporate faith disturbing. Make your point, sir.
BMF: I'm speakin' for the locker room when I say, We don't need you. You need us. Stop f**king around with Mr. Goofy ass Satan gimmick over there...
[...Mike points to the still dazed Kevin Alloy...]
BMF: ...and drop some damn balls. Punish me all you want for doing what I think is right. Leon Corella has had this shit coming to him for years, and you just ain't seen it yet! If you've seen ANY of that old footage I sent you, you'd know full well that what I'm doing is right and righteous!
[...He props his knuckles on the top of the table. The stainless steel thermos rattles ominously...]
BMF: The only reason I don't help The American Freebear become a champion tonight, is because Bane is seeing stars right now, and Thompson was his b*tch before hand, so I know I got him dead to rights too. I'm going to win that match tonight, and I will face Leon Corella at Cornerstone Revolutin. That's locked in.
[...Hayden takes in a deep breath, and leans back in that chair...]
HAYDEN: Here is the deal. I will not be cowtowed by your threats or actions. I've been beaten up by Haplo the Vagabond, so I'm prepared for whatever you want to inflict on me. But you lay a finger on any one not on our roster at any of our events again and I promise you will NEVER have your "revenge" on Leon Corella. Pull a stunt like you did with that kid in Saskatoon and I'll have you suspended without pay, and barred from the building for at LEAST six months. I'm already fining you $1,000 for attacking the devil right in front of me.
BMF: ...Check's in the mail. Worth every damn penny too...
[Hayden frowns a bit, a pensive expression written down upon his features. He takes a sip of the slightly below room temperature coffee and chokes it down. He chuckles bitterly.]
HAYDEN: The hell am I doing? I'm fining someone for beating up a pudgy nerd in a devil costume! Forget the fine, Michael; you can't buy that kind of entertainment. I admire spirit and passion in my talent. But, Michael, I gotta say you are treading on some seriously thin ice around here.
[...Mike grinned...]
BMF: ...I'm the strongest, toughest, and meanest son of a b*tch you've got on your roster right now. You won't fire me. Not only is it in your best interest as far as ratings go, it's also as far as your health is concerned too, because once you stop signing the checks...
[Raising his fist up, Big Mike brought it straight down on the middle of the desk, caving it in upon itself, the thermos and Hayden's Blackberry sliding to the middle. BMF calmly stepped back, and headed out the door, leaving the implied threat hanging. Hayden barely reacts.
HAYDEN: Someone taking out people backstage with a penchant for violence. Oh, I WONDER who that could be...
[He picks up the Sports Illustrated again.]
HAYDEN: Man, the Leafs were so much better off five years ago.
KEVIN/SATAN: [weakly, still in a pile in the corner of the room] There... was a lockout... five years ago.
HAYDEN: Exactly.
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Cut back to the announce table. In the background, the sounds of a match in progress.]
RM: Chazz, could it have been Mike Foyer?
CC: Maybe. Who knows at this point. Everyone's a suspect to me at this point.
RM: Well, fans, we found a replacement for Max Turbo in this contender's battle royal. Killa 187 was apparently volunteered by the rest of the New Main Street Killas as a sacrificial lamb.
CC: It warms my heart to see Killa 187 beaten to the point of not being recognized.
RM: This match is timed entry battle royal. Right now in the ring Mario Speedwagon and Brian Irwin are battling and a new competitor will join at five minute intervals. And a wrestler is eliminated by pin fall, submission, or for this match, being thrown over the top rope.
CC: Mario's already a former champ, he'd love to have the belt back. Also B.A. Jive is entered. Killa 187 and Kid Way Cool are in. Mad Cow, you've got to think he's a favorite tonight.
RM: Also, Josh Curtis is entered. And... uh... "Kalebri Braskovic."
CC: Alarming how much he looks like Caleb Brantseg, wouldn't you say, Rich?
RM: I wasn't going to go there, but yeah.
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
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Brian Irwin - 6:31
Mario Speedwagon - 15:38
Kid Way Cool - 15:58
B.A. Jive - 21:31
Kalebri Braskovic - 29:38
Killa 187 - 44:40
Mad Cow - 48:09
WINNER - Joshua Curtis
RM: MAD COW IS OUT!
CC: Dark Angel wins!
RM: "Dark Angel" Joshua Curtis outlasts Mad Cow and he's going to challenge for the Dangerous Championship at "The Devil Wears Lycra!"
CC: I thought Mad Cow would be impossible to toss, but the big man just wore himself out! And who would have thought that Caleb-- Kalebri would turn out to be competent in the ring! Color me impressed!
RM: It was a battle royal of surprises. Kid Way Cool tosses his mentor Brian Irwin to the floor... Killa 187 going the distance...
CC: Yeah, am I crazy or did I see Killa eliminate big bad B.A. Jive? Did Killa PWN Jive Pawnbroker?
RM: I saw it too. It's on video for the world to see.
CC: Killa accomplishes something. My world is rocked.
RM: But the real story is Josh Curtis and in a few moments we're going to find out who he will be facing at out twelfth show, "The Devil Wears Lycra," but first, we're going to find out who will be facing the Grand Champion at Cornerstone Revolution V. It comes down to these two men: Mike Foyer and Maurice Thompson.
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
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WINNER - Maurice Thompson (KO - Natives Unite - 21:09)
RM: Maurice Thompson is main eventing Cornerstone Revolution!
CC: Damn, is the only way to beat that guy to knock him out or something?!
RM: Thompson and Foyer throwing caution to the wind and just throwing bombs at each other. It's like there was NOTHING they wouldn't do to win!
CC: And Thompson didn't even pin Foyer, he just knocked him silly with that NASTY Natives Unite!
[Thompson celebrates his victory, almost a look of relief on his face. Foyer is already beginning to stir.]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Sledge is pacing back and forth backstage. He has a worried look on his face. He keeps looking at the clock on the wall.]
SLEDGE: Where in the hell is he?
[Sledge walks over to his bag that is sitting on the floor. He reaches in and pulls out his cell phone.]
SLEDGE: Damn it Tim…
[He begins to dial the number of Tim, his agent. Just then the door opens.]
TIM: Man, sorry I'm late…
[Tim is standing in the doorway, holding a duffel bag.]
SLEDGE: Sorry? I have my first title defense tonight and I'm sitting here worrying about where you and my title are. And all you have to say is sorry?
TIM: I did the best I could. My flight was late out of Cleveland and I had a hell of a time trying to find this place. Why are you so worried anyways. You do realize you're facing Tungsten tonight, right?
[Sledge pauses a moment.]
SLEDGE: You're right Tim. I just let all these Klezskavanian superstitions bother me. I mean, seriously, how can gold be bad luck, right?
TIM: Right.
[Tim sets the duffel bag down, unzips it and pulls out the Dangerous Championship belt. He goes to hand it to Sledge. Sledge reaches out to grab it, then quickly pulls his hand away.]
SLEDGE: On second thought, you better hold on to it. You know, just in case.
[Tim shakes his head and smiles.]
TIM: Alright, just in case.
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
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TIME LIMIT DRAW - Champion retains (15:00)
CC: Man, that was close. Sledge looked like he was taking the fight to old Drake Tungsten though.
RM: Braddock retains the belt but he didn't seem right tonight. I think he's very protective of that Dangerous strap.
[Referee Leonard Gutman raises Braddock's hand. Somehow the Dangerous belt has made it to ringside and Gutman hands it to Braddock, who suddenly makes his escape. A Klezskavanian brandishing a pitchfork chases Gutman, and the referee leaves the ring as fast as he possibly. Not terribly fast, but just enough to escape the wrath.]
RM: Well, Chazz, there's one more match tonight and it's only the fourth time in since the rebirth of the DCWL the Grand Championship has been contested. And Chazz, it's certainly contentious.
CC: That's right, Rich. It was only a month ago that it was announced that American Freebear would be challenging Leon Corella for the Grand and these two have been into each other ever since.
RM: Let's take you back and show how it all started. It's main event time. It's the Grand Championship, and it's next.
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[...Freebear turns around and is met with a furious kick from Leon Corella, nailing him straight in the testicles and effectively doubling him over. Leon quickly straddles the back of Freebear's head, applies a fast and dirty double U-hook and whips him up onto his shoulder sideswipe style with a growl born from strained effort. The Crowd reacts with a mixture of confusion and apprehension..]
CC: DAMN!!!
RM: OH MY GOODNESS!!! From out of nowhere with a low blow, Leon has The Freebear up on his shoulders for the Game Over!!!
[...With a mighty roar, Leon gets a running start, drops to his knees and savagely slams Freebear head and shoulders first to the canvas with a Release variation of his Game Over finish! Freebear practically flips onto his belly upon impact, and gazes unfocused in no particular direction with a glass-eyed stare. Leon rises from the devastated carcass of Freebear, staring upon him with great intensity and furious anger...]
RM: What is prompting this from the Grand Champion?
CC: ...All this pressure that's been placed on the champ must have finally gotten to him!
RM: The Champ has his belt now and has taken the microphone from Buckley, obviously having something to say...
[...The championship belt gleams on his shoulder as the Referee stands between the two of them, one hand checking on the unmoving Freebear, the other in a vain effort to halt any further action from Corella...]
LC: ...You sneaky... f**king... Snake in Bear skin clothing...
[...His breaths came in ragged gasps as he paced back and forth, staring down at the American Freebear...]
LC: ....You think that because you whine and complain about your placement on the match card that that gives you any right to face me for this belt?
[...Leon lifts the belt ever so slightly off of his shoulder...]
LC: ....No... You didn't earn this! You played upon the Boss man's sympathies because you clearly are too pathetic to EARN the right to have this prestigious piece of DCWL's legacy. That's why you stand beside champions, but are not good enough to face them....
[...Freebear tries to get up, but clearly is debilitated. Leon moves in on the downed big man, and crouches low...]
LC: ...I have fought, bled, and screamed from depths of agony that you could never possibly FATHOM to be here... and yet all you have to do is go "Boohoo hoo... I'm the Freebear, where's my belt?" and it gets SERVED UP TO YOU?!!!
[...Leon's stares into those glazed over eyes of Freebear...]
LC: ....There are men on this roster who far more deserving of a chance at this belt. Men who have bled, fought, and damn near died for their spots and here you are being given a shot that's a slap in the face to each and every man in that locker room who calls themselves a wrestler. Not once did I ask for this belt. I never demanded it. All I did was declare my intent, and take every measureable step to attain my goal...
[...He rises back up, his lip twitching angrily...]
RM: Strong words from the Champ, but is he in the right?
CC: Well, ya know, Freebear is coming out of nowhere in the contendership, but it was really more of the intention to provide the fans with an entertaining match, which I'm pretty sure we'll have now. Personally, I think Corella has a right to be upset, but this may not have been the best course of action for him.
[...the crowd's mixed reaction continues on...]
LC: ...I deserve better than to face a man-child with a sob story...
[...With that he turns, and exits the ring as Muse's "House of the Rising Sun" hits the house PA...]
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
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WINNER and NEW GRAND CHAMPION - American Freebear (Ursine Destroyer - 18:17)
RM: NEW CHAMPION!
CC: NO WAY!
RM: AMERICAN FREEBEAR IS THE NEW GRAND CHAMPION!
CC: I swear that would have been it. Corella had that Perfect Clutch LOCKED. But ring positioning killed him and Freebear capitalized.
[In the ring, Corella sits up, a blank expression on his face as he rolls back what happened in his mind. Freebear's hand is raised by Steve Francis, who hands him the belt. This time, the Klezskavanians do not rush the ring, terrified of the mighty gold belt and the fearsome bear standing before them, holding it aloft.]
RM: It's American Freebear versus Maurice Thompson at Cornerstone Revolution! This has been "Contains Spoilers!" For Christian Chazz, Blaze Crimson and Dan Clear, this is Rich Manning! Cornerstone Revolution is 41 days away, and we will see you in three weeks for "The Devil Wears Lycra!" Freebear wins!
~~~D~C~W~L~~~
[Backstage, Hayden throws the newspaper down.]
HAYDEN: This is ridiculous. I should be running a wrestling show, I don't need honorary Klezskavanian citizenship.
[Just as he gets up, he's met at the door by Leo Von Tantamount.]
LVT: Oh, Mr. Hayden.
[...Who oddly speaks perfect American English now.]
LVT: How'd we do tonight?
HAYDEN: ...the... what the HELL?!
LVT: Well, we were told to be Klezskavanian, whatever the hell that meant. You know... to be superstitious, vaguely Eastern European... kind of like Borat. You were paying us to pretend to be wrestling fans. We were promised you'd pay us two thousand bucks each to be wrestling fans!
HAYDEN: Promised to pay-- What? What? What? Who promised you?!
LVT: Well... Mr. Spikes promised you'd pay us.
[Kyle Hayden's expression becomes the human equivalent of the Windows Blue Screen of Death.]
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