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[The camera fades in on a pensive looking Wolf Jager, seated cross legged on a chair studying footage of Atomic Son Sean Malcomb with intensity shining in his eyes. He's wearing only a pair of sweat shorts, all thoughts of the election and the upcoming debate gone from his mind as he prepares mentally for his next match.] Wolf Jager: All the politicing means nothing in the face of this. Myself and Sean Malcomb fight in the House of Bastards for the chance to face Tragedy at the Splatternad Pay per View. A _title_ shot at the Splatternad Pay per View. [A smile spreads over Wolf's face. An eager, intense smile quite unlike his normal feral one. At the mention of a _title_ shot the intensity burns in his eyes more intensely as he studies his future opponent more thoroughly, looking for weaknesses that he exploits.] Wolf Jager: It has been a long time coming. I've worked many years for this moment, my first _title_ match in a pro wrestling federation. The federation I used to watch with my father when I was a boy. The intense training, the amateur matches and the national _title_s, wrestling in Japan, all leading up to this moment. [The smile quickly fades from his face as he continues studying Malcomb, his jaw setting as his voice lowers to an angry determined snarl.] Wolf Jager: And I'm not about to let some verdammte lunatic prevent me from having my moment! Especially not some boorish brawler like you Sean Malcomb! I've come to far, put up with the half witticisms of dumkopfs like Vengence so I could get to this point. I've come to far now to fail. To get the _title_ shot I must beat you Malcomb and even if I must snap your arm or tear your arm from it's socket to do that, then that is what I'll do. [He goes silent for a bit, stewing in silence for a few moments. His jaw is still clenched as he studies his oppoenent, his fists clenching and unclenching, his muscles twitching as if he was working out the match in his head.] Wolf Jager: I've come to far now. [His voice drops to a barely perceptible whisper.] Wolf Jager: I won't fail you vater, I promise. [Fade to logo...] ________ ________ ______ __ __________ /_ __/ // / __/ // / __ / / / / __/ __/ / / / _ / _// _ / /_/ / /_/ / / _/ /_/ /_//_/___/_//_/____/____/___/___/ / __ / __/ / /_/ / _/ ___ ___ ______/_/___ ___ ___ ____ / _ )/ _ | / __/_ __/ _ | / _ / _ / __/ / _ / __ |_ / / / __ |/ , _/ // / /____/_/ |_/___/ /_/ /_/ |_/_/|_/____/___/ M A Y 2 7 , 2 0 0 4 T H E P I T A L B U Q U E R Q U E , N M H O U R T W O [And the logo fades and we are quickly returned to Hour Two. Which by Slush's logic, should really be the 11th Hour of the campaign period. And sadly, Slush is right. This IS the last Hour. I mean once the show ends, voting begins. Are you nervous? I'm nervous. Are you excited? Feel these nipples!] Skullhead: Really now. Do we have to use that _base_ketball reference two shows in a row? [Sorry.] Skullhead: You should be. [And we cut back to our commentary team.] Skullhead: Well ladies and gentlemen, the time has come for our main event. Slush: Oh goody. Time for a nap. Pinhead: Don't make me beat you awake Slush. Skullhead: Both Wolf Jager and Sean Malcomb have debuted in recent months and have turned quite a few heads since then. Now these two men are fighting for a chance to face Tragedy at SplatterNad for the Unified Championship. Slush: Crazies, germans and clowns. You know what this fed needs? Pinhead: What? Slush: Use of pink slips. __ _______ _____________________________________________ / |/ / __ )/ ____/ / /|_/ / __ / / WOLF JAGER versus / / / / /_/ / /___ THE ATOMIC SON SEAN MALCOMB /_/ /_/_____/____/ | |___________________________________________Writer: Bob Morris [ Werewolves of London plays over the house speakers as Wolf steps out from behind the entrance way in his ring jacket. It's a short ring jacket in basic black, a picture of a full moon with a howling wolf sillouetted on it is silkscreened on the back. He walks to the ring paying little attention to the crowd, not smiling and simply looking at the ring, although a couple of fans get on his case and he jaws at them briefly.] Skullhead: You could be looking at the next president of MBC. Slush: He's German. If he's elected, does that mean more beer for everyone? Pinhead: He probably wouldn't let you have any beer. Slush: If I get him enough votes, he would. Pinhead: Who else would you get to vote for him? Slush: Hamsters have lots of relatives. Tinkle: MEEP! [ Helter Skelter by the Beatles now plays as Sean Malcomb comes out from the back. Amazingly, there are no Wrecking Crew members following him to keep him in line. He does, however, bring with him a styrofoam box, which he sets down just near the ringside area, before making his way to the ring.] Slush: He must have beer in there. Skullhead: What makes you think he brought you beer? Slush: What else would you put in a box like that? Pinhead: I'm not letting you go anywhere near that box. Skullhead: He may just send the hamster to check it out. Pinhead: Nah, if it's beer, he knows the hamster would drink it all. Tinkle: MEEP! Slush: Damn you for liking alcohol, hamster! [And once the bell rings, both wrestlers got down and dirty. Yeah, it's a tired cliche, but maybe someday, they'll come up with a better one. Anyway, Jager manages to duck one punch from Malcomb, trap him in a hammerlock and then lift him up for a bodyslam. Continuing to focus on the arm, Jager stomps on the shoulder twice, then drags Malcomb up with an armbar, using a series of takedowns as Malcomb tries to get to his feet each time.] Skullhead: Jager sticking to the mat wrestling early on. Slush: I need that beer... how will I get it. Pinhead: You will never get it. Slush: Say, Pinhead, what's that over there? [pointing up to the ceiling] Pinhead: Better question, what's that over there? [pointing behind Slush] Slush: [turning to look] What? [Realizing Pinhead didn't fall for it and he did.] Slush: Dammit. [Meanwhile, there's been a match taking place. Malcomb was able to break Jager's grasp with a hard shot with his free arm, then a quick kick to the midsection. A smile formed on Malcomb's face as he dragged Jager forward, firing off a quick kneelift, then dropping him on his head with a DDT. Rather than going for a cover, he opts to slap on a chokehold, drawing a warning from the referee.] Skullhead: Malcomb not taking kindly to the referee's warning. Pinhead: Much like he doesn't take kindly to the Wrecking Crew. Slush: I wonder if they confiscated any alcohol. Pinhead: I hear they confiscated a lot from you. Slush: You will NEVER prove that they found me sneaking in a case of NyQuila last week! Tinkle: MEEP! [Malcomb drags Jager up and shoves him into the corner, firing off a pair of uppercuts, then turning him and slamming him face-first into the turnbuckle. He drags him out of the corner, attempting to lift Jager up for a powerslam, but Jager slides free of Malcomb's grasp, kneeing Malcomb in the back. He then grabs Malcomb himself, a quick Irish whip sending him into the corner, then as Malcomb rebounds, Jager catches him from behind in a German suplex and a bridge!] Skullhead: ONE... TWO... Kickout by Malcomb! Slush: Look! It's Merv Griffin! Pinhead: Why should I care? Slush: Because he's standing there! Pinhead: I'm sure he is. [Jager drags Malcomb off the mat again, this time using a snap suplex to send him to the canvas. As Malcomb sits up, Jager slaps on a quick chinlock, only for Malcomb to reach back with his arms, as if trying to grab a handful of hair. To no avail, though, as it's hard to grab hair when the other guy has a buzzcut. But it does cause Jager to release his grasp and driving a quick knee to the back of Malcomb's neck, then drag him up again. An Irish whip to the ropes by Jager is reversed, however, and Malcomb catches Jager coming off with a fist to the midsection, then grabs Jager and takes him down with a cradle neckbreaker. As Jager slowly sits up, Malcomb is quickly on top of him, bringing him back to his feet, following with a quick kneelift, then hooking up Jager. He lifts him up into the air in position for a vertical suplex, but after five seconds, instead drops Jager on his head with a vicious brainbuster!] Skullhead: COVER! ONE... TWO... But Jager kicks out! Slush: Look! It's Wayne Newton! Pinhead: I care even less about him. Slush: I swear it was real this time. Pinhead: I'm sure... hey, look! It's Ozzy Osbourne! Slush: WHERE?! [Turns to look... of course, there is nobody there.] Slush: Damn you for using Ozzy Osbourne against me! Tinkle: MEEP! Slush: You are of no help to me, hamster! [Malcomb eyes the referee for a moment, but turns back to Jager, smiling as if he believed the match was in the bag. He drags Jager up again, scooping him for a quick powerslam. He then drags Jager up again, this time taking him to the corner and setting him on the top rope. Malcomb then follows Jager up, attempting to hook him in a superplex, only for Jager to block. Malcomb tries to reposition himself, but Jager blocks again and this time fires off a pair of forearms, forcing Malcomb to release. The two now begin trading punches, Malcomb still standing on the second rope and Jager still seated on the top. Jager manages to connect with a hard shot to the bridge of Malcomb's nose that forces Malcomb to step down from the ropes. When Malcomb tries to go back up, Jager kicks him in the face to knock him backwards, then repositions himself so he is standing on the second rope. Malcomb comes forward, but Jager is waiting for him, reaching forward and delivering a quick clubbing blow to the back of Malcomb's head. Then with Malcomb now bent forward, Jager traps him in a front facelock, then leaps off and drives Malcomb into the canvas with a tornado DDT.] Skullhead: Jager covers! ONE... TWO... THR... KICKOUT! Pinhead: So close there. Jager may not only have a spot on the presidential ticket, but also a shot at Tragedy if this keeps going well for him. Slush: What would it take for you to get me a beer? Pinhead: What are you willing to do? Slush: What would you want me to do? Pinhead: Say please for once in your life. Slush: NEVER! That's a four-letter word! Tinkle: MEEP! Slush: I know it's really six, that's a figure of speech, hamster! [Jager looks a bit unhappy with the referee's count, but goes right back to work on Malcomb. He delivers a pair of vicious shots, as Malcomb tries one of his own. Jager ducks it, goes behind Malcomb and then suddenly seizes him in a strangle hold. Malcomb fights it off, but Jager tightens his grasp and forcing Malcomb to one knee. Malcomb manages to fight back to his feet, but just before Jager can further cinch the hold, Malcomb swings a leg back, catching Jager with a mule kick between his legs. Malcomb drops to his knees again, trying to shake off the effects of the submission hold, while Jager is trying to shake off... well... other effects.] Skullhead: Malcomb now back to his feet... both men with more punches, but you can tell they are getting tired. Slush: All right... you want me to say that word, Pinhead? Pinhead: Anything for a beer? Slush: I... uh... Pinhead: Yes... Slush: ...puh... please can I have a beer? Pinhead: No. Slush: WHY?! Pinhead: You didn't really mean it. Slush: ... Skullhead: How you'd know he didn't mean it? Pinhead: When it comes to good manners, he never means it. Tinkle: MEEP! [Malcomb has gotten the better of the exchange in the ring, now taking Jager down to the mat with a bulldog. Having stunned Jager, he snares him in a guillotine choke on the mat, Jager now struggling to find some leverage. Jager is close to the ropes, but as he reaches for them, Malcomb begins to apply more pressure, a smile back on his face again. Jager winces but again reaches out, reaching... And finally grabbing the ropes to force the break... although Malcomb is slow to comply and now getting in the referee's face a bit for having to break the hold.] Skullhead: Malcomb on top... series of punches to the head! Slush: I think I need to go to the bathroom. Pinhead: Then go. Slush: Really... I can get up and... Pinhead: I didn't say you could get up. Slush: Dammit! Tinkle: MEEP! Slush: Don't you give me that curses, foiled again line, hamster! [Malcomb brings Jager to his feet once again, this time dragging him forward and attempting to set up his Atom Splitter piledriver. But Jager is able to wiggle free and back body drop Malcomb to the mat. Malcomb is quickly back on his feet, catching Jager as he turns around with a hard kick to the midsection, but as he tries to drag him forward for a DDT, Jager surprises him, grabbing his legs and dropping him to the mat with a modified spinebuster!] Skullhead: COVER! ONE... TWO... THR... NO! Pinhead: So close there! Slush: I'm no closer to the beer, though. Pinhead: And you won't be getting any closer either. [Jager slowly brings Malcomb back to his feet, lifting him up and dropping him to the mat with a shoulderbreaker. He then drives a series of knees to the arm, then goes to apply a Fujiwara armbar, but Malcomb is quickly in the ropes. Jager simply yanks Malcomb up by the arm, hooking him up into a hammerlock, then dropping him with an Exploder suplex!] Skullhead: COVER! ONE... TWO... THR... FOOT ON THE ROPES! Pinhead: If Jager wants to finish Malcomb, he needs to get to the center of the ring. That's twice he let Malcomb make the ropes. Slush: If I want beer, I need to get further away from you. Pinhead: If you weren't thinking about getting beer, I'd rather you be further away from me. Tinkle: MEEP! [Jager now stares daggers at the referee, but again drags Malcomb to his feet. He then attempts to hook Malcomb up for another suplex, perhaps his Front Neck Chancery Brainbuster, but Malcomb resists the attempt by Jager to lift him up. Suddenly, Malcomb gets a look in his eye, then shoves Jager back and fires off a hard kick to the midsection to double him over. And in one quick motion, drags him forward, hooking both arms behind Jager's neck... Dropping him with the Atom Splitter piledriver!] Skullhead: Malcomb covers! ONE... TWO... THREE... [Jager tries to kick out, but is a little bit late.] Skullhead: Malcomb wins! Pinhead: Jager made a mistake not getting Malcomb closer to the center of the ring! [Malcomb rolls out under the bottom rope as the decision is announced.] RING ANNOUNCER: The winner of this contest by pinfall... SEAN MALCOMB! [Malcomb then eyes the styrofoam box at ringside, walking toward it.] Slush: Give me the beer! Pinhead: Malcomb wouldn't even give you a slap in the face, what makes you think he'll give you anything else? [Jager, meanwhile, has just rolled out of the ring himself, holding his head in pain, but now eyeing Malcomb as he moves forward.] Slush: Wait a minute... he's not gonna waste beer... Skullhead: Malcomb with the box and... [Only as Malcomb lunges forward, he yanks out from the box a bucket, sending the bucket in Jager's direction... But Jager ducks as shredded fish, or chum, flies through the air, scattering the ringside area and going into the stands as fans scatter. And as Jager gets back up, he lunges right for Malcomb, and now it's fists that are flying instead of cold fish. And here comes Malcomb's favorite people in the whole world... the Wrecking Crew... to break up the party.] Skullhead: Malcomb goes on to face Tragedy at SplatterNad, but he may have made himself an enemy in Wolf Jager! Pinhead: And all over a bucket of fish. Slush: They can't play _base_ball... Skullhead: .... Slush: They don't wear sweaters... Pinhead: ... Slush: They're not good dancers... Tinkle: ... Slush: They don't play drums. Skullhead: ... Pinhead: ... Tinkle: ... Slush: What? Skullhead: Just how many people will get that reference? Slush: Anybody who lived Doctor Demento, the greatest philosopher in history. Pinhead: I see you had no problem staying demented. Slush: Yeah I... wait a minute, is that good or bad? Tinkle: MEEP! [Our cameras take us once again to the backstage area of the Pit. Crew members here, there, and everywhere as always. Our center of attention for this segment however is walking up the hallway of offices. Dressed simply in blue jeans and black MBC T-shirt is President Tesla St. James. She's going over some paperwork or perhaps debate notes as she walks, saying hello to the occasional person who greets her first.] Voice: Hey, Tesla. [Normally, Tesla would just say hi and keep going, except.. she doesn't see the owner of this voice. What's more.. she recognizes this voice. She turns around and sees a woman walking toward her, wearing.. well, very little, to be honest. Some blue jean short shorts and a bright-yellow-to-the-point-of-blinding bikini top. Seriously, the top is so loud that Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles are silently thanking God.. of course, if they could see what's behind the bikini, they'd be making deals with the devil. But that's neither here nor there.] Tesla: Hey Dahlia. I wasn't really expecting to see you so soon. [Dahlia Lincoln tosses her middle-of-the-back length dirty blonde hair over one shoulder, and quickly closes the distance between herself and Tesla.] Dahlia: Yeah, well, I recovered from that ass-whipping you and Talia laid down on me quicker than I thought I would, so. [Tesla folds her arms, tucking the paperwork to the side.] Tesla: Well, you're looking good. And I'm sure you're getting looks around here. [A pause before Tesla remembers something.] Tesla: Oh, I saw your other half today. He dropped by to sign all the paperwork. Said he was going to sign for you too. Dahlia: I wouldn't exactly call him my.. other half. I have.. a few other halves, if you catch my meaning. [Dahlia makes as much eye contact as Tesla will allow.] Dahlia: And I'm always looking for more.. halves, I guess. [Dahlia waits for a reaction, but gets nothing more than a slightly amused grin.] Dahlia: Anyway, that's fine. He said he was coming down this direction before his party tonight. He's probably at the UNM's cheerleader's dorms by now, doing things that would make Hugh Hefner blush. Tesla: He made mention of that. I hope they know what they're getting themselves into. [Tesla then puts her hands on her hips.] Tesla: Tell me, what exactly are your plans here in the MBC? [The first of what I'm sure will be many [MEEP]-eating grins quickly covers Dahlia's mouth.] Dahlia: I dunno. What are you doing later? Tesla: Probably getting over being pissed off about this damned debate and worrying about my match at the pay-per-view. And that generally means heavy drinking. Dahlia: Can I help? I mean, since you're already going to be drunk... Tesla: Yeah sure. Kyle isn't much of a drinker anyways. It'll be nice to have somebody to do shots with. [Dahlia cracks up at Tesla's choice of language. Tesla just looks at her, not sure what the joke is.. not entirely, anyway.] Dahlia: Sorry.. that was.. you'll see why I'm laughing later. Anyway.. I'll come find you later then, and we can drink or.. ya know.. whatever. Tesla: Aye, sounds good. But for now, I've got to get ready for this debate plus drop some paperwork off with Kyle. But one thing... why _are_ you here? Dahlia: Good luck with that by the way. But as for me.. well, my other half as you put it, is suppose to finally show up on-camera next week. I was just in Kyle's office making sure everything was set up for that. Tesla: Oh? Good then. I don't have to go searching for him. Dahlia: Yeah.. but, uh.. you may want to give him a couple seconds. Tesla: Why's that? Dahlia: Well.. you remember that whole thing with the shots? [Tesla raises an eyebrow, not quite sure where this is going.] Tesla: Aye. [Dahlia gets a sort of.. quasi-serious look on her face.. where she's trying to act like something important is coming out, but really, she's about to start laughing. Hard.] Dahlia: Well.. Kyle was doing different kinds of shots a few minutes ago. Tesla: [Laughs and shakes her head] You ever quit? Dahlia: No.. and you'll be thanking me for that later. Good luck out there. [Cut back to the arena.] Slush: Now, who was THAT? Pinhead: Eyes for Dahlia Lincoln? What would your perfect woman say? Slush: I'm just... scouting out her competition. Skullhead: Dahlia Lincoln was last seen in the Empress Cup where Tesla St. James had a hand in eliminating her from the tournament. Looks like Lincoln is coming to the MBC. Slush: And is... friends with the President. Pinhead: Don't make me break out the cattle prod Slush. It hasn't forgotten the face of it's father! Tinkle: MEEP! Skullhead: And if Lincoln is coming here, then who is this other half they were referring to? Pinhead: Looks like we'll be finding out at SplatterNad. Skullhead: Folks, we're just a few minutes away from the Presidential Debate. They're setting up the stage now but I'm told the Sons of Cacophony have requested some time to speak. Slush: And we listened? Why God? Why? [The camera cuts to the dressing room of the building where we find Erik and Chad Grimsson hanging out in the hallway. Erik, dressed in a pair of ripped and faded black jeans, a Megadeth- Peace Sells, But Who's Buying? longseeve t-shirt, and Nike amateur wrestling shoes, seems to be quite angry. Chad, who wears a pair of ripped and faded blue jeans, a black Motorhead- Death or Glory longsleeve t-shirt, and black engineer boots,has a look on his face that implies that he doesn't really know what to think, although he seems a bit amused. Both men have a grenade of Mickey's malt liquor in their hands which they enjoying as they notice the camera's approaching.] Chad: [shaking his head] Let me get this straight, here. We stuck our noses into Amity's business? Okay, bro, correct me if I'm wrong because maybe I've got things messed up here. [Erik nods his head.] Erik: Alright. Go ahead and recap, dude. [The amusement begins to leave Chad. One can tell the more he thinks about the situation, the angrier he is getting.] Chad: Well, the way I remember things, it was you two punks who insulted a friend of ours, then disrespected us, and then inserted yourselves into our business. All well before we even made a move against you. Am I right, Erik? [Again, Erik nods his head.] Erik: That sounds about right to me, dude. [Chad shuts his eyes and chuckles a bit. He then opens them again, and sure enough, the amusement is gone and replaced by rage.] Chad: Well, Fury, that's three strikes. And that means that you two are right at the top of our [MEEP]list. Erik: And now, when we're in New Mexico, you want to call us out from Dallas? [Erik rolls his eyes.] Erik: [sarcastically] Yeah, that takes a lot of balls. [Chad's eyes darken and he begins to tense up in anger.] Chad: And don't give us this bull[MEEP] on the Detroit way. We grew up on the streets there and we know what the Detroit way is. And it doesn't include taking no responsibility for your actions or your offenses. That's how those punkasses in Chicago and Philly do things. But that's not really what's important right now, is it, Erik? [Seeing that his brother is now as angry as he is, a malice filled grin forms on Erik's face.] Erik: No, it's not. What's important is that you two called us out. You accused us of awaking a sleeping giant. Let me make this clear to you, Fury. You want us at Splatternad? Fine. Whether or not Tesla sanctions it or not, we don't care. And it can be anywhere as far as we're concerned. The ring, the backstage area, the arena parking lot, or the alley behind the Denny's. But you best understand this, when we get our hands on you two pussies, you're going to be begging for the days when you were getting your asses kicked on the corner of 14th and Jefferson! [Chad let's out a dark laugh at Erik's comment, followed by a malice filled grin of his own.] Chad: So you two better get your minds off of Team Canada, because you've got a much bigger problem on your hands. One that One Winged Angel and your anonymous little slut aren't going to be able to save you from. We're chomping at the bit to rip your insides out and strangle you with them. So you two be pissed off, waking giant if you want to. Erik: [shouting] Because we're going to be the guys who kick the pissed off, waking giants' ass right off this [MEEP]ing planet! [With that, Erik and Chad head off as the picture switches back to the announce team.] Skullhead: And the challenge looks to have been answered. Pinhead: And considering the friendship between the Grimssons and President St. James, I think this match is going to be sanctioned rather quickly. Slush: Friends? Pinhead: I'll zap you good Slush. Slush: ... Tinkle: MEEP! Skullhead: Even still, should the Grimssons and Fury collide it'll be a very brutal matchup. It'd likely include the kinds of brawling that we rarely see. Pinhead: Hence, perfect for the MBC. Skullhead: I'm being told that Scud has caught up with the number one contender to the Women's Championship. Tinkle: MEEP! MEEP! MEEP! Slush: God, not her. Skullhead: Yes, Tornado Tara Smith. Let's get to it. [Fade backstage. Tornado Tara Smith is standing in front of an MBC backdrop. The young redhead is wearing a maroon Arizona State football jersey with Pat Tillman's number 42 on it and blue jeans. Standing next to her is Billy Scud Mackenzie.] Scud: Tara, a week ago you defeated Kari Stevens to win a shot at Comedy's MBC Women's championship belt. Are you looking forward to a possible third _title_ reign? TTS: Absolutely. Not only was it a big win that helped me get back on track, it also allowed me to get some vengeance on Kari Stevens for certain comments. It was bad enough to spread lies about Stephanie and me, but to stoop to bringing Stephanie's son into this? [shakes her head] I didn't think she'd stoop that low. Scud: So you would not mind getting her back in the ring? TTS: Well Stephanie got her shots in tonight and if I were Kari, I'd seriously consider retracting those statements. I've seen Stephanie when she gets angry and it isn't a pretty sight. Kari had better be careful, but enough about her. I'm looking forward to taking on Comedy. Scud: Well what do you think of Comedy? TTS: I saw how she became the champion. I saw how she duped Leanna Love into thinking she wasn't serious at all and wasn't a capable wrestler but just a delusional fool. Well in the end, it was Leanna who ended up looking like a fool. Comedy better not think of trying similar tactics with me. I'm going to treat her as though she was the toughest opponent I've ever faced. I'm not going to look past her and I'm going to make sure she does nothing to trick me. We all know Comedy has a unique sense of humor, but behind that is a devious mind. I will not allow myself to be distracted by any of her antics. Scud: What about the other Harlequinns? TTS: It seems to me that they'll all be preoccupied with other things. Of course, I'm not going to take that chance. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure that my match with Comedy is fair. I don't want a cheap loss and I don't want a tainted victory either. Scud: Thank you very much Tara, and good luck! TTS: Thank you Billy. [Fade back to the unholy trinity.] Tinkle: MEEP! MEEP! MEEP! Slush: I am now dumber for having seen that. Pinhead: Show some respect Slush. Slush: [MEEP] no! Skullhead: Let's move on before Slush starts getting righteous on us. [Through the wonders of broadcast technology, we are taken from the arena to elsewhere. Where? We've narrowed that down to else . Name that line and get a cookie. Anyways, this else includes plenty of equipment trunks and _meta_l staging structures. So perhaps this is near the heart of the production area. All this however is unimportant. We find recent World Heavyweight _title_ Challenger Overkill Joey Malone sitting on the floor, leaning up against the wall. His arms are hunched on his knees as the look on his face is of quiet contemplation. And quiet contemplation for Joey Malone generally means something is bothering him. He has a Rubik's cube in his hands, trying to solve it in his own way... ...which looks like peeling off the coverings of the pieces and reattaching them where they belong. Whatever works. Approaching footsteps interrupt the relative silence, and it's not long before we see Rose Malone enter the scene, arms around herself, head bowed, obviously deep in thought. She comes to a halt a few feet from Joey and looks him up and down a moment.] Rose: You healed up pretty well. [Joey looks up at his younger sister briefly before looking back at his cube.] Joey: Yeah, well... yeah. [Joey tries not to look his sister in the eye, looking almost embarrassed.] R: [raising an eyebrow] No hello? Joey: [Another brief look] Uh... hello.... sorry. R: [sighs, flustered] Why are you sitting here pouting? Joey: [Suddenly defensive] I'm not pouting. Just.. thinking. R: That's even weirder. Guess you've been avoiding me? Joey: Well, some hero I turned out to be. Felicity was right. R: [frowns, darkly] Oh. So you're pouting because you couldn't be my big hero. Is that right? Joey: No, I just... [Grunts and shrugs] I don't [MEEP]ing know. I got my ass kicked, plain and simple and doesn't make a [MEEP]ing difference in how Crimson will treat you or Felicity. Well, now he will after what you did. R: [evenly, almost casual] Maybe you've learned that you don't need to stick up for me. I'm not a little kid, Joey. Joey: Still, your my little sister. I don't like how he treats you or Felicity. [Sighs] And I thought I could do something about it. Maybe keep you from doing what Fel did. R: Oh, and what is it I'm going to do that Fel already did? Joey: [Quiet voice] Get stuck with the Hand of Doom. R: And you think I'm going to fall in with that crowd? Did you *see* what went on out there after Fel's match? Joey: I did, but I didn't know that's what you were planning. You know I worry about you... and you know I'm not exactly the sharpest spoon in the drawer. R: [sighs] Just stick to your own business, Joey. Be the one sibling who has faith in me. Can you do that? Joey: [Voice low again] I can. [Joey rubs his eye as if he has a headache.] Joey: I'm sorry Rose. Didn't mean to upset you. R: Just stick to what you're doing, Joey. You'll be a fine head of security. Heal up. Pray for Felicity to make the right choice, all right? Joey: [Back to his cube before looking up at his younger sister] Will do. [Rose nods a bit.. and turns, walking off.] R: Take care of yourself. [Fade out.] Slush; Ah look at the poor bastard. He's realizing he's a [MEEP]ing failure. Pinhead: Slush, are you going to sit there and call out a Malone? Nevermind the Malone that's soon to take over as head of security? Slush: He can't even defend his own sister or beat Crimson in a hardcore match. What happened to the career killer we were told about? Tinkle: MEEP! Slush: Round and round. Preach it Brother Ratt. Skullhead: Well, I think that there isn't a whole lot more that can be said about the business with the Malone family. All three of those siblings look to be completely split in different directions right now and quite frankly, it looks rather painful. Pinhead: Quite possibly that's exactly what Crimson wants. I wouldn't want three Malone's coming at me all at once. Skullhead; Well, speaking of Crimson, I'm told we have another segment from his SplatterNad opponent, the One-Winged Angel. Slush: Ah yes. Let us see what my son is up to. Pinhead: Even if you two _were_ blood, I've got to think that he would have emancipated from you long ago. Slush: Who are you? My social worker? [Cut back to Dallas and a shot inside the Miracle Whip. One-Wnged Angel is in the driver seat, Spice rides shotgun and Rage sits behind the Amity leader. Though we can't see 1WA's eyes for the shades he wears, he seems focused in on something ahead of him.] 1WA: Focus. The one thing critics always complained I lacked. I beg for nothing, but believe me when I say I differ. The only thing I lacked before 2x4 was credit. So I stormed into 2x4 and snatched it from each and every person that doubted me. Going into 2x4, it's been Crimson without the focus. If not his ego, the Hand of Doom has brought upon problem after problem from the inside. Amity on the other hand has never been tighter or stronger. Which means one thing for Crimson... Rage: He's gonaa get caught slippin! [Again, a female voice comes from off-screen.] FV: But as always, there are those that continue to doubt. Crimson is still one of those unfortunate fools. Here's to being slept on and waking up the world. 1WA: Show 'em what they won? FV: Let's. [With that the camera switches views and we find the Miracle Whip sittin on a lawn... ....not just any lawn, but the lawn of the property known as Doom Manor. And in no time the H2 revs up, takes of and.... CCCCCRRRRAAAAAAASSSSSSSSHHHHHHHH!!!!!! Amity bust right through the glass side doors into Doom Manor. Inside, the Whip makes a sharp turn before trashing a table holding some expensive glassware. With the Miracle Whip at a complete stop, the Amity members exit, all carrying weapons: Angel his cane, Rage the chain, Spice the tire iron. A fourth comes out also, giving a face to match the voice we've heard. She's a very attractive Korean woman, atheletic build and she carries a _base_ball bat and a [MEEP]-eating grin only rivaled by One-Winged Angel's. Her name is Supervixen Ami Tran, the new manager respsonsible for the Amity attitude adjustment.] Tran: Tonight is just symbolic. Just to embarrass the HOD. SplatterNad, Amity deals the real damage. 1WA: I've busting down the door, busting Crimson inside out, taking the MBC World _title_, the Franchise tag, and the mountain top. Enough talk about us being the future, the Platinum Era begins now. [With that, the new Amity quartet begins laying waste to anything in sight within Doom Manor. The camera zooms out on the scene, then fades to black.] Slush: Such a good boy. I taught him well. Pinhead: You taught him property damage? Slush: He's a natural don't you think? Skullhead: Well no one has ever accused the One-Winged Angel of being humble. Brash yes. Humble no. Pinhead: Well, you would think that Angel learned from his loss to Crimson at the beginning of the year. But I couldn't tell you if he has or not. Slush: I can. Pinhead: Did he learn anything? Slush: That losing is bad. Especially to Crimson. Pinhead: Right Slush. Thank you for that little nugget. [Cut to a locker room in the back. The Marshall Gals, Jessica and Tara, are dressed in street clothes and seem to be in the middle of a discussion.] JFM: So yeah, I'm a little pissed over this debate. I know there's no chance that I'll be able to get this company back, but after all I did for the company they're trying to rub it in my face with this election. TM: [somewhat bored] Mmm-hmm. JFM: And what's your problem today? TM: Isn't it obvious? I'm not scheduled for a match tonight, no chance to spread the word of the Bombshell to the people. What a waste, a total waste. And judging by the looks of the people in the audience tonight, they could really use a little thrill like me. JFM: Speaking of this audience, now I remember why I shut down that two-bit casino circus. When a nobody like that Urlacher guy gets an arena named after him, that's a sign your town is desperate for a hero. TM: Aha, enter the Unicorn. [KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! Both girls look up in surprise as somebody pounds on the door to the locker room. Tara gets up first and moves to the door, as Fatality follows a few steps behind, unsure.] JFM: You expecting somebody? TM: No, why? JFM: Be careful then. God knows how many lunatics New Mexico has wanting to get their hands on me. [Tara pauses a moment, but then thrusts the door open to find... nobody. The camera pans down a little to spy a plastic toy unicorn... one of those classic My Little Ponies. C'mon, admit it, you remember My Little Ponies... kid sister probably collected them I bet. Anyhoo, this one is white with a blue mane and tail and a little yellow crown on her head. Majesty... the one who had her own Dream Castle, even though there were no [MEEP]ing stairs in the damn place to explain HOW the Ponies could get up onto the second floor... ...and no longer in mint condition by the looks of things as it appears someone
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