OOWF Dance of Death V PPV

[mooseheadjack]

OOWF Dance of Death V
Live! From Hell, Michigan

OOWF World Heavyweight Title Dance of Death[/u]
Davin Moreland vs. The Amnesiac vs. Poe vs. Stank

OOWF Intercontinental Title Dance of Death[/u]
Firewoman vs. FF Capslock vs. Tytan vs. Tyson Kincaid

OOWF World Tag Team Title Dance of Death[/u]
Fear Us vs. IHOP vs. The Heroes Guild

OOWF Onslaught Championship Dance of Death[/u]
Seamus McNasty vs. DH Magnusson vs. Chris Evans vs. Concrete TG

OOWF Intercontinental Title Shot Dance of Death – Winner Gets an IC Title Shot[/u]
Chris Cole vs. Matte vs. Moosehead Jack vs. Spin Hansen

Loser Leaves Town Match[/u]
Johnny Adrenaline vs. Attitude Adjuster

Phantos & Lucios Gauntlet
Alexander Darling vs. Eric O’Mac
Nayr vs. Bryce Larson

Card subject to crushing economic woes. And snow. Too much damn snow.

[mooseheadjack]

Firewoman is sitting in what was her locker room. Lucky has already taken her bags out and the sign down, and she is still sitting there, in her ring gear on the bench. She is looking at the blood on her hands...Poe's blood, and just...sitting. Since it's no longer technically Firewoman's locker room, people can come and go as they please. Davin Moreland pokes his head in.

DM: Davin Moreland is pleased Firewoman remembered where Firewoman's loyalties lie. Davin Moreland would like to know why Firewoman took so long, however.

Firewoman doesn't answer. Davin waits for a moment, and then shrugs his shoulders and leaves. Firewoman still sits there. Several minutes pass, and finally "New Jersey Nightmare" D.H. Magnusson comes in.

DHM: Hey, Sparky, you about ready t' go?

Firewoman doesn't move, and still does what she's been doing. DH looks around a bit, and sits down next to her.

DHM: Still not had yer post match shower, eh? Normally, that's okay, but we gotta be at the next town for the PPV soon, doll, so everyone's kinda waitin' ....

DH trails off, and kind of assesses the situation. He gets up, walks over and grabs a bunch of paper towels by the sink, runs the water from the faucet over them and comes back. He cleans the blood off her hands, and finally Firewoman notices and looks up at him.

FW: Oh, hey DH.

DHM: Hey, Sparky. You ready t' go?

Firewoman nods and takes DH's hand as he helps her up. They start to leave.

FW: Hey, have I mentioned....well, it's good to have you back, and on the same side, and.....

DHM: Yep, okay, let's get goin'.

They walk out the door.

[mooseheadjack]

Chris Evans is having his injuries from the DH beatdown tended to by the OOWF Doctor.

Evans: So how is it Doc? Am I good to go for Dance of Death V?

Doctor: From what I can tell, you have no really serious injuries that would keep you out of the ring for anything more than a few days. However, I would suggest staying out of the gym or from doing anything strenuous until the day of the event.

Evans: Are you fucking kidding me?!

Doctor: Look, the fact that you took such a savage beating and only suffer a concussion is nothing short of a miracle.

Evans notices the cameraman out of the corner of his eye.

Evans: Hey you, get your ass over here.

The cameraman comes close with a Sexy Female Journalist, who hands him a mic. Evans snatches it out of her hand angrily, wincing in pain as a result.

Evans: Look, DH, I’ve been doing some research into the OOWF history, and from what I’ve seen, you used to be a pretty stand-up kinda guy. Now I don’t know what the fuck happened to you during that time you were out and really I couldn’t give two shits about it, but there’s one thing I know, and that’s the fact that tonight, this rookie took you to your limit. Couple more minutes, and who knows? I might have pulled off the upset of my career. But instead, you gotta go and do a chickenshit move like bringing a chain into the ring and nearly cripple me in the process. Well, you didn’t finish the job and I’ve got a shot at you next week in the Fatal 4 Way. Hopefully by then, you grow a fucking pair of balls.

SFJ: While we’re on the subject of DH, Lionheart, seeing as you two have some form of mutual respect for each other; do you have any words to say after seeing what Firewoman did tonight, and also on her conversation with DH just a few minutes ago, not even seeming to care about your condition?

Evans’ mood changes from anger to a calm sense of disappointment.

Evans: I really have no words for that. Thought I found someone that could possibly have had my back at some time, but she didn’t even come out to stop the beatdown on a fellow Storm Academy graduate. I can’t respect someone like that, no matter what they’ve accomplished.

Dammit, this interview is over. I need to take a walk and vent.

*fade to black*

[mooseheadjack]

We fade back into Tyson Kincaid’s hotel room post-Mayhem. The camera pans up from the floor, showing the bottle of amber liquid sitting on the chest of drawers. We can see that the bottle is still almost full.

The camera continues to pan upwards until we see Tyson Kincaid standing in front of his bed. He’s wearing black, loose-fitting Under-Armor shorts, no shirt and a large, conspicuous bandage on his forehead. His suitcase lies open on the bed with several items of clothes spread out next to it.

The two front legs of the bed have two thick resistance cables connected to each of them and Kincaid is currently using them to do bicep curls. After several more reps, Kincaid turns his back to the bed and begins using the cables to do chest flys.

Off screen, we hear a knock at the door. Kincaid puts down the cables, picks up a towel and bottle of water from the chest. He walks to the door and opens it, revealing a new, particularly stunning brunette SFJ standing in the hallway. For reference, let’s say it’s this girl:



Kincaid simply stares at her without emotion as he dries himself with the towel and drinks from his water bottle.

TK: What?

SFJ: Is this a good time?

Kincaid suddenly explodes, backing the frightened girl across the hall and against the wall.

TK: A good time?! A GOOD TIME?! What the fuck do you think?! Not only did I just get screwed out of the Intercontinental championship, but it happened against…

Tyson turns his head down slightly and to the side, all the visible veins in body bulging with rage, before finally spitting out the name.

TK: …Firewoman! Then, to add insult to injury, I get jumped by Run DEA before the main event and I don’t wake up until an hour after the show has ended. And do you know the worst part about all of this? Do you?

The SFJ stays silent.

TK: The worst part is the fact that Firewoman was able to walk out of the ring under her own power. She should be lying in a hospital bed somewhere, loaded up with morphine and finally experiencing the guilt that she should have felt the day she walked out on me. She should be…

Suddenly Kincaid grimaces, his breath whistling through his clenched teeth. He reaches up with his right hand and rubs the left side of his chest and part of his shoulder. The look on the SFJ’s face suddenly goes from frightened to concerned.

SFJ: Are…are you OK?

Kincaid’s pain seems to slacken slightly.

TK: Yes…Yes, I’m fine…Uh…What was I talking about?

SFJ: You were talking about Firewoman and the guilt she should have felt. Although I don’t think she agrees with you. She still claims that you don’t have your facts straight.

The venom returns to Tyson’s voice, although to a lesser degree.

TK: She wants to talk about facts, does she? Tonight, she managed to luck into returning her championship – that is a fact. Tonight, she also managed to keep her career alive a little longer by getting out of that ring before I had the opportunity to maim her – that, too, is a fact. But the most important fact of all is that this Sunday at Dance of Death V, none of that will matter. I will go through three other people and I will destroy her in the process. No victory could taste as sweet as…

Kincaid’s hand once again goes to his chest. He doubles over slightly and the SFJ rushes to his side.

SFJ: What’s wrong?

TK: It’s…it’s nothing. I probably just pulled something a few minutes ago. I’ll be fine.

SFJ: Are you sure?

Once again, Tyson shrugs off the apparent pain and straightens himself.

TK: Positive. Listen, I’m in a hurry to check out of here and get on the road, so if you don’t have any more questions for me, I’d like to finish packing.

SFJ: Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?

TK: I’m sure. Thanks, any…

Kincaid stops mid-sentence as something in his room catches his attention.

TK: Actually, come to think of it, there is something you can do. I feel bad about yelling at you earlier. I know that you’re new on the job and I should’ve been a little kinder.

SFJ: That’s OK. I don’t blame you for being upset. I know you’ve been through a lot.

TK: I know, but I feel like I need to make it up to you. Why don’t you join me for a nightcap?

SFJ: I thought you quit drinking?

TK: No, I quit being a drunk and a junkie. I’m not going to let something like alcohol control my life. So what do you say?

The SFJ bats her eyes and flashes a coy smile.

SFJ: Well…if you insist.

Kincaid puts a hand on her lower back and ushers her into his room before closing the door.

Moments later, the door opens again and a hand reaches out and hangs a “DO NOT DISTURB” sign on the door handle.

Fade.

[mooseheadjack]

Chris Evans is walking around trying to vent when he sees Moosehead Jack, the reigning OOWF DDT Iron Man Heavy Metal Champion.

Evans: Sweet, a two for 1 deal. I get to vent out some of my frustration, and win my first belt in the process. Perfect.

Evans picks up a conveniently-placed steel chair and walks up behind Moose.

Evans: I’ve got nothing against you. Don’t take this personally.

Moose turns around

Moose: Who the fuck are…

Before he can finish, Evans waffles MHJ in the face with the chair.

Moose stumbles against the wall, trying to regain his senses.

Evans tosses the chair at MHJ, who catches it in front of his face. Evans braces and then….EYE OF THE STORM!

Evans superkicks the chair and MHJ’s head is smashed by the chair, as well as the wall he was in front of.

Evans goes for the cover and a nearby referee shows up to make the count.

1..

2..

3!!!!!

The Winner and New DDT IRON MAN HEAVY METAL CHAMPION- “Lionheart” Chris Evans

Evans carefully places the belt onto his still-injured shoulder and walks off.

Evans: Alright, that’s good for now. Don’t wanna hurt him too bad.

[mooseheadjack]

(Tytan isin Ultimo Inc. lockeroom getting tended to by his own personal Doctors when Lola and her camerman appear.)

Tytan: Damn Lola, you have what they call incredible timing.

Lola: Tytan, just doing my job. Do you have anything to say to your opponents for Dance of Death?

Tytan: (Slowly standing up holding on to the gash he got on his side and trying to keep some balance.) Fire....it looks like we get to do the dance again. And this time we have a couple other dance partners. So now it looks like you are really begining to run out of time! I told you I am the one that it going to take your title from you, and at Dance of Death it will be your last dance!
Kincaid. Remeber I am in the ring too or are you just that drunk already? And Damn boy are you a whiny little bitch, maybe you should go talk to Doctor Phil or something. Hell I think Firewoman is more of a man then you are. All I have to say to you is shut up and wrestle or go have a drink.
Capslock. Face it I don't like you and you will feel the pain of that come the Dance.
Oh and DEA I am not Dead so whatever you tried to do it isn't working!

(Tytan stumbles and the doctors and Ultimo aides come to help him.)

Doctor: Sorry Lola but this interview is over.

(Blackout)

[mooseheadjack]

(Mr. Biggs is walking and saw what Chris Evans just did to Moose.)

Biggs: Oh no he didn't do that.

(Biggs then charges Evans as he is still celebrating and spears him through a nearby wall. Once the two of them hit the ground Biggs gets up and grabs Moose drags him over and places his arm over Evans. The ref appears.)

One...two...three!

Ref: The winner and once again.

NEW DDT IRON MAN HEAVY METAL CHAMPION...Moosehead Jack!

Biggs: There that's better!

(Biggs walks off)

[mooseheadjack]

Nurse: Miss Gomez, can I get you anything?

The very hot, blonde nurse (helloooooo nurse!) is tending to Selena. She waves her hand in front of Selena’s face, but is getting no reaction as Selena stares into space and up at the ceiling.

SG: The stars are so pretty.

The nurse uncomfortably looks up too to appease Selena, hoping to get a response.

N: Yes…they are.

Meanwhile, one of OOWF’s fine medical staff doctors is looking after Poe as he is laid out on one of the examining tables. The slightly balding doctor places his stethoscope over Poe’s heart.

Dr: Mr. al-Takriti, can you hear me?

There’s no response from Poe, who like Selena, is staring into space and the ceiling. The doctor sighs and continues checking Poe’s vitals.

Suddenly Poe does the zombie sit up.

Dr: Ah, good, you’re with me.

Poe still says nothing, drawing another sigh from the doctor.

Dr: These wrestlers get weirder and weirder every day.

The doctor takes Poe’s hand to monitor his pulse. Poe, in one fluid motion, slides off the table and pulls the doctor up on his shoulders using the arm the doctor was holding.

Dr: What are you…?!?!

PENDULUM ON THE LINOLEUM FLOOR!

The nurse screams, which seems to snap Selena out of her trance. Selena leaps out of her chair and rushes to Poe’s side, clinging to the very arm the doctor had a hold of. Poe continues to look down on the now twitching doctor laid out on the floor.

Poe then looks down into Selena’s large, wet eyes and sees traces of his now dried blood still on her face. Poe snarls.

Poe: Nevermore.

Poe then leads Selena out of the infirmary.

[mooseheadjack]

*Stank takes a sip of his beer*

FFC - You remember our first Dance of Death?

Stank - Yeah, it was DoD2 with you, me, Johnny, and Alan.

FFC - Drink and Destroy vs the Chickenshit Heels.

Stank - Yeah we tore the house down that night.

FFC - You remember who won?

*Stank gives FFC a sideways glance*

Stank - Yeah... you won.

FFC - Heh, heh

Stank - You know what else I remember?

FFC - What's that buddy?

Stank - That was the time where Johnny and Alan were orchestrating their first swerve on us.

FFC - Oh yeah... good times... speaking of the Chickenshits, that was a damn fine promo they cut last night.

Stank - Yeah it was pretty good.

FFC - Pretty GOOD? It was brilliant!

Stank - Okay it was brilliant! But it was missing something.

FFC - Missing? What?

Stank - I don't know. It seems a damn shame that Johnny and Alan are finally breaking up and we had no part in it.

FFC - Hmmm you're right.

Stank - I mean they swerved us twice... and we never did get them back... I mean yeah, we've beaten them more than they have beaten us but, what was called for here was some magnificent angle where we got over on them in a big wa-

FFC - I see where you're going with this... let me think about it.

Stank -

FFC - What? I can think.

Stank - I know... what are... what are you doing?

FFC - I don't understand the question.

Stank - What is there to think about?

FFC - You just said it.

Stank - Lock... don't.

FFC - Don't what?

Stank - I know you. Whatever it is you've got planned concerning the Chickenshit Heels is going to end up SOMEHOW biting ME on the ass.

FFC - How do you know?

Stank -

FFC -

Stank -

FFC - Okay I admit. They've gotten over on us pretty good in the past, but that was the old us. Since then you've been World Champion and I have... uh... hmmm...

Stank - 2 time Intercontinental champion.

FFC - Thanks buddy. TWO TIME Intercontinental CHAMPION. We're seasoned. We've taken everything the Chickenshit Heels have thrown at us and SURVIVED! We're SURVIVORS, you and I. and I'm telling you... by the time I'm done figuring out how we can swerve TCH before they officially break up... they are going to want to stay together just so they can GET BACK AT US!

Stank -

FFC -

Stank - Why do I have the feeling that you are going to be the death of me?

FFC - I don't know. ANYWAY... Then you and I can have our own break up angle that will make theirs look like... like... Gordy and Williams's break up.

Stank - ?

FFC - That's right. I said it.

Stank - I don't remember Dr. Death and Terry Gordy doing a brea-

FFC - EX- ACTLY!

Stank -

FFC -

Stank - Oh. OH! I get it.

FFC - See?

Stank - Yeah, but uh... you and I aren't ever breaking up.

FFC - What do mean? We did it before.

Stank - What?

FFC- Remember? I was F. Fonzworth McCappington?

Stank - Must of been before I joined the OOWF.

FFC - Oh for fuck's sake.

Stank - Alright I have to go.

FFC - Where are you going?

*Stank finishes the rest of his beer.*

Stank - C'mon Spin. Let's go.

FFC - Wait where are you going?

Stank - I'll talk to you later, Lock.

*FFC sits at the bar in confusion, as Stank and Spin Hansen walk out the door of the Destroyitarium. The big men, round a corner and head down the hall of random encounters... and wouldn't you know it, there they find Moosehead Jack, breathing heavily, bracing himself against the wall on one hand, with his DDT belt in the other. Stank and Moose lock eyes as the camera fades.*

[mooseheadjack]

<Moose stands there trying to regain his composure after the chair shot. Stank and Spin have him trapped against the wall. Moose finally seems to come to his senses, and that irritating smirk spreads across his face>

MHJ: Stank. What's on your mind big man?

Sta: You know damn well what's on my mind. We come out to help and your crew wants to start pushing people around?

MHJ: Nothing personal.........yet

<Stank glares at Moose, then nods to Spin and they turn to leave. After Stank walks away, but before Spin leaves, Moose grabs him by the arm and spin him around>

MHJ: Drink and Destroy isn't getting you anywhere. You're floundering out there. Jack hasn't taught you shit. You want to unleash pure hell? Come talk to us.

<without a word Spin shrugs free of Moose and walks down the hall to catch up with Stank. Moose heads to Poe's locker room and walks in. He see's Selena sitting on the couch, still kind of in a daze. In the middle of the room Poe is meditating. Moose walks over to Selena and just puts his hand on top of her head. She flinches a little at first, then see's who it is and relaxes>

MHJ: You ok Mouse?

SG: She........licked me

MHJ: Yeah. Sorry we couldn't get out there sooner, DEA attacked back here too

<a long silence passes between them before Moose speaks again>

MHJ: How long has he been like that?

SG: Quite a while

MHJ: He is going to murder Alexander Darling

SG: I hope so

[mooseheadjack]

*FADE IN TO THE PALATIAL IHOP LOCKER ROOM*

<The Lovely and Talented Dorothy Mantooth is rallying the troops>

DM: This is going to be a great day for IHOP. Heckle and Jeckle are going for the tag belts again and The Amnesiac in the OOWF World Heavyweight Title Dance of Death match with Davin Moreland, Poe, and Stank at OOWF Dance of Death V Live! From Hell, Michigan. And he’ll have Fezzik as backup to make it hard on them.

SYB & Skurge: Heh heh heh heh.

DM: What now?

SYB: What’s Fezzik gonna do again?

DM: Make it har… Oh for fuck’s sake, grow up Beavis & Butt-head!

Amn: I don’t know if I can handle three guys at once. My name isn’t Solly.

SYB: Hey! <mumbles> It was one time and I needed to pay rent.

Skurge: I have faith in you, The Amnesiac.

Amn: I wish I felt better about it.

Skurge: Aboot… and don’t fucking pussy oot on us now. You’re a chimp. Fucking act like one, eh? Don’t let those bastards get you doon. You’re gonna make David Moreland, Ho, and Stink your bitch at OOWF Dance of Death V Live! From Hell, Michigan.

Amn: Thanks for the pep talk. What about you guys?

Skurge: What aboot us?

Amn: You guys have a shot at some gold too.

Skurge: We suuuure do.

SYB: That would rule if we won the tag belts and The Amnesiac became the OOWF Heavyweight Champion in the same night. We’d have more gold than the Nazis offered that king in Last Crusade. Plus it’s like my Uncle Seymour said…

Skurge: This’ll only hurt for a minoote?

SYB: No fuckface… after. He said, “Nothing is more funner than gold.”

DM: He had a way with words, that one.

SYB: Oh totally. He once told us kids, “Go outside and P-L-A-Y so me and your aunt can fuck.”

Skurge: …

DM: …

Amn: OK then. Anyway, so if Ferris and The Nerds are watching, what would you like to tell them?

Skurge: We snack on danger, dine on death!

SYB: We bury every gerbil-faced stinkweed we face. Raaaaaah!

<The room goes silent as we FADE>

[mooseheadjack]

We see The Amnesiac coming out of GM: The Rick's office, smiling widely. A Sexy Female Internet Blogger comes up to speak with him. The cameras catch it all.

SFIB: THE Amnesiac.

AMN: Ms. Blogger.

SFIB: Oh, please, call me by my first name, Sexy.

AMN: Well then, Sexy... what can The Amnesiac do for you?

SFIB: Well, I'm writing a blog this week about the Dance of Death V pay-per-view, and I was wondering if I could get your thoughts.

AMN: You want the thoughts of The Amnesiac... the NUMBER THREE contender to the OOWF World Heavyweight Championship?

SFIB: Yes... can I ask you a few questions?

AMN: Feel free to fire away your questions at The Amnesiac... the NUMBER THREE contender to the OOWF World Heavyweight Championship.

Ms. Blogger rolls her eyes a bit, but continues along her line of questioning.

SFIB: What were you doing in GM: The Rick's office just now?

AMN: Well, if you must know, I was verifying my status in the match coming up this weekend. Where The Amnesiac is the NUMBER THREE contender to the OOWF World Heavyweight Championship.

SFIB: So, you didn't believe you were in the match?

AMN: Yeah, actually, I thought it was a typo. I couldn't believe my eyes when I found out I was in the main event this Sunday on PAY PER VIEW!

SFIB: Why do you keep saying things so loudly like that?

AMN: Sorry, Sexy... this is my first pay-per-view main event. Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Shill the match? Put asses in those seats?

SFIB: Well, I guess... but really, shouldn't you be focusing on your opponents this Sunday?

AMN: Alright, let's do that, shall we? Let's focus on the other people in the match for a moment. First, we have Davis Moreland-

SFIB: That's Dav-

AMN: DON'T interrupt me. Davis Moreland... the guy who seems to steal the world title at every possible opportunity.

SFIB: I don't think he'd see it that way.

AMN: Believe me, I've done my share of petty theft in my day. He's stealing, and he knows it. Next up... Poo.

SFIB: I believe that's Poe.

AMN: No, after I get done with him this weekend, he'll be Poo. This guy wants to run around with his jailbait-daddy-issues girlfriend, and tell everyone how he's the living incarnation of Edgar Allen Poe. Sir, I know Edgar Allen Poe... I'm friends with Edgar Allen Poe... Edgar Allen Poe is on my psychic speed dial... YOU SIR, are no Edgar Allen Poe.

SFIB: You know Edgar Allen Poe? But he's dead!

AMN: Yeah, my mom's a medium. Eddie and I talk all the time.

SFIB: And what about Stank?

AMN: I could stand up here and make some racist jokes, but then you would get uncomfortable, and then I would get embarassed, and then OOWF-tv would call for me to be fired, and then I'd be ineligible to collect unemployment because I wear a mask, and then I'd get kicked out of my apartment, and then I'd be homeless on the street, and then I'd get a blowjob from some $2 hooker on the corner of 5th and Madison, and then... wait... what were we talking about?

SFIB: Apparently, $2 hookers.

AMN: You're way out on a tangent there, hon. Back on message: Stank... you don't frighten me. You don't intimidate me... and most importantly, you don't stand a chance against me.

SFIB: So what are you trying to prove during your match on Sunday?

AMN: Trying to prove? I'm trying to prove that I'm a true Chimpion. That it's not just a fluke. I bring a lot to IHOP, and I need to show the world that I'm not just a flash in the pan. I'm not just another Chainz... not just another Crush... I'm not just like X-Pac... I'm not the Buddy Roberts to IHOP's Freebirds. I'm not just the Blue Mean-

SFIB: Yeah, I get it... you're not the third wheel.

AMN: Yeah. And this Sunday, when I disassemble three other people in that ring, I will walk out of there holding my two titles up high for the world to see. Because the OOWF is ready for this... The Amnesiac - World Champion.

SFIB: Thanks for your time, The Amnesiac.

AMN: Anytime.

*FADE TO BLACK*

[mooseheadjack]

Chris Evans puuls himself up from the wreckage and clutches his stomach.

Evans: What the fuck was that? Feels like I just got hit by a semi.

Moose is seen coming out of Poe's locker room, holding the OOWF DDT Iron Man Heavy Metal title.

Evans: When the hell did he get that back? Probably while I was out cold. Ah well, at least I had it longer than FF Capslock

Evans, unaware that MHJ had nothing to do with the sneak attack, sneaks up behind him and gives MHJ the Clothesline from Hades. While MHJ is getting to his knees, Evans hits his modified Shining Wizard, cracking him in the back of the skull.

A nearby ref shows up and Evans makes the cover.

1...

2...

3!!!

The Winner, and Once again, DDT IRON MAN HEAVY METAL CHAMPION- “Lionheart” Chris Evans

Unlike last time, Evans doesn't bother celebrating, and instead grabs the steel chair he used earlier.

Evans: I'm not taking any chances this time around. I'm not getting jumped from behind again.

[mooseheadjack]

"The Main event" Chris Cole is entering the locker room of the OOWF World Tag Team Champions, Fear Us. The two Champs and Wally B. King are sitting around a poker table. A place is set for a fourth.

LD Williams: I wasn't sure if you were going to show?

Chris Cole: What makes you say that?

LDW: Considering you didn't receive the winners bonus from last night I figured you might not want to lose the rest of what you earned to me tonight.

CC: Very funny.

Outback Jack: BBBEEEEEEELLLLCCCHHH! That means times are tough in this economy. We wouldn't blame you if you'd rather save your money.

CC: Actually I plan on taking that winner's bonus from you guys. An economic Stimulus package.

WBK: I actually have one of those available to you. We'll stimulate your economy or anything else for the low price of $50.

CC: Resorting to bargains during these times?

WBK: Nope. My business is actually recession proof. People need a pick me up from the world's troubles. We take all that trouble and make it leave for an hour.....or more if you pay more.

CC: Are you going to play or what?

OBJ: (While dealing)You and Spin put up a hell of a fight.

CC: It went down just as I said though. You put four tough SOBs like us in the ring and we will tear the house down for 15 minutes. And then the experience of the champs working together will gain an edge and you have a well fed Champion.

LDW: You sound like a conspiracy theorist. Or just a smark who cares little for kayfabe. I’ll bet twenty.

CC: I'm just telling it like it is. Drink & Destroy & Chickenshit Heels have gotten way over by doing exactly the same thing.

OBJ: You didn't just try and strive to be the Heels did you? I’m in for twenty.

CC: In the ring no, but you have to admit they market themselves well. That 15 minutes of Fame segment was brilliant. I’m in also.
WBK: We also sell a package called 15 minutes of Fame. I’ll check.

(Jack deals the flop, 9 of Clubs, King of Clubs, and 3 of Hearts)

CC: I’m not buying Wally. I’ll bet another twenty.

WBK: This hand blows harder then LD’s Mama. I’m out.

LBW: Watch yourself Wally. I’ll see your twenty and raise another ten.

OBJ: I’m in for thirty.

CC: (throws in another ten) I have another shot at the IC Title if I win at Dance of Death.

LDW: Tough competition.

(Outback deals the turn, 5 of Spade)

CC: It is always tough when Moosehead Jack is involved. Then I go against Spin & the newcomer Matte. I don’t know a lot about Matte but I know if Moose, myself, and Spin are in the ring that we will see carnage. I’ll bet another twenty.

LDW: Good luck. I’ll call.

OBJ: Me too. (Deals the River, 9 of Diamonds)

WBK: I shouldn’t have folded.

CC: Thirty More. Hey Wally, Outback, you guys here from Gatorbait lately?

WBK: Here and there.

LDW: I fold. When you don’t have the cards you don’t have them.

CC: I wanted to chat with that bastard about our National Champion Florida Gators.

OBJ: He’ll talk your ear off on that subject. I’ll call your thirty. What do you have?

CC: 3 of a kind (lays down 9 of Hearts & Queen of Spades)

OBJ: BURP! That’s Australian for you got me.

[mooseheadjack]

*Davin Moreland is WALKING WITH PURPOSE~! wearing a Douchebag Shirt and Douchebag sunglasses. He spots The Amnesiac still in the vicinity of GM the Rick's office, apparently having gotten lost.*

DM: Hey!

*The Amnesiac turns around, and gets NAILED with a REALLY GOOD DIAMOND CUTTER ON THE CEMENT FLOOR. Amnesiac is DONE. Davin pulls out a Sharpie from his pocket and tears open The Amnesiac's shirt. In easily legible letters, he writes: "Davin Moreland, 2-Time World Champion" on The Amnesiac's chest. Davin looks down at his artistry and pulls his glasses down his nose.*

DM: Recognize, bitch.

*Davin pushes his glasses back into place and appears to be headed to GM the Rick's office. However, he stops and appears to be in thought before heading back down the Hallway of Random Encounters.*

*fade*

[mooseheadjack]

(Tytan is walking and pissed! He is bandaged up but still surprisingly on his feet. He sees Moose on the ground with Evans nearby holding a chair and The DDT IRON MAN HEAVY METAL Title. Tytan shakes his head at Evans. Then stares him down and grunts at a full flex and flinches at him. This causes Evans to turn and run and run into a nearby door causing the chair he was carrying to bounce and hit him in the face causing him to fall to the ground with the chair falling on top of him. The ref appears and begins to count the chair pinning Evans.)

Tytan: Ah what the hell!

(Tytan kicks the chair off of Evans and looks down and places his Size 12 upon Evans chest pinning him.)

1...2...3...

NEW DDT IRON MAN HEAVY METAL CHAMPION...TYTAN!

(He takes the title, helps Moose up and then heads into Poe's locker room.)

Tytan:(Seeing Selena) I'm sorry kid, there's going to be hell to pay.

(Selena smiles at Tytan, just then Seamus enters the locker room with Tyson.)

Seamus: All right now that we are all here...what are we going to do to get these bastards back and walk out of the PPV with the advantage.


(Fade to black)

[mooseheadjack]

**Matte is being interviewed by a decent looking female journalist.**

DLFJ: Matte, what do you think about being in a match of this caliber?

Matte: I think it's complete bullshit.

DLFJ: You... You're in a Dance of Death for a shot at the Intercontinental Championship. How do you feel about that?

Matte: I feel like someone made a wrong choice when they threw me into the match.

DLFJ: You... What's your... Ok, sorry. I'm just not really understanding where you're coming from here.

Matte: Alright. I'm in a match with Chris Cole, Spin Hansen, and Moosehead Jack. A shot at the I.C. belt on the line. What the fuck? I'm obviously the new guy with no direction, being thrown into the match as a filler. I'm gonna compete, sure, but I'm not getting the title shot.

DLFJ: You don't think that maybe, if you try hard enough...

Matte: No. I'm not gonna win it. I'm just not. I'm gonna push for it, but I'm not gonna pull it in. That's just how it is for now. I'll see you around.

**Matte leaves.**

[mooseheadjack]

(Spin Hansen is in the boiler room, angry. He's attacking the heavy bag, muttering gibberish to himself. AN SFJ APPEARS~!)

SH: What do you want?

SFJ: What are your thoughts about the return of D.H. Magnusson and his alliance with Run DEA?

SH: YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT I THINK? D.H. can go FUCK HIMSELF. He claims that no one tried to talk to him. He claims that we left him broken and the fans abandoned him. BULLSHIT.

(Turns to the camera)

You remember those guys, Mags? OUR ARMY. The ones who helped us become THREE TIME TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS. The ones who cheered for us in our fight AGAINST Phantos and Lucious, your new bedmates. FUCK YOU, YOU TRAITOROUS PIECE OF GARBAGE.

(He takes a deep breath to focus himself and calm down. He turns back to the SFJ, surprised to see such an outburst of emotion from Spin.)

You can't trust your own damn eyes anymore. First Josh O-Fucking-Neal comes back begging for a match. Then D.H. sleeps with the devil, probably literally. Then I find out that I'm going to tag with Chris Cole-- the man who put Drink and Destroy through hell for MONTHS-- and we get along PERFECTLY. There's only one constant here.

SFJ: And that is?

SH: The fans. The fans will never give you up. They will never--

(Voltage runs by, holding a sign saying "Never Let You Down / Never gonna run around and desert you / Never gonna make you cry / Never gonna say goodbye / Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you")

SH: WHO LET THIS ASSHOLE OUT OF THE CASINO? (He GRABS Voltage and hits the HAIR OF THE DOG!)

SFJ: This whole thing has you shaken up, doesn't it?

SH (Sarcastically): Completely. (He reaches down and grabs... one of D.H.'s old logging chains!)

(Back to the camera...) You see this? This I keep. This I keep to remind myself-- and others-- that while my trust can be earned, betraying me earns my enmity until the day I die.

(Back to SFJ) Heard enough?

SFJ: Not quite. Three more things... Your IC match at Dance of Death. Thoughts?

SH: I'm going to go in. Focus myself despite all of this. Meditate beforehand. Destroy all that step in front of me.

SFJ: And second? Your continued losing streak.

SH: I've been causing damage, isn't that all that matters in the long run?

SFJ: And third? The so-called lack of destruction performed by Drink and Destroy.

SH: No comment. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my exercises.

[mooseheadjack]

Firewoman is STANDING~! outside the OOWF mobile offices, looking at the rundown for the PPV for her match. She sees who are opponents are, and goes from 3 to 10 in her anger-management scale in about 2 seconds. She goes barging into GM The Rick's office

FW: What the fuck is this?

GMtR: This? This is my office. Nice of you to drop by without an appointment and knocking and all...

FW: Very funny. I meant this

She shoves the sheet into his hands

GMtR: I believe this is called the 'run sheet,' or perhaps the 'booking sheet.'

FW: You've got me in the ring with three opponents who want to kill me. Not just win my Intercontinental Championship, but kill me. Does that seem fair to you?

GMtR: Sure it does. If I have one of your buddies in there, that makes it essentially a tag team match.

FW: Yeah, but this makes it a handicapped match. Everyone knows those are stupid.

GMtR: Fire...it's a championship match. It shouldn't be a walk in the park. Besides you like a challenge.

FW: A challenge, sure. A set up, though, Rick?

GMtR: I dunno, maybe you should stop pissing people off? And before you even bring it up, yes I do appreciate your siding with me in the war, but that is history, and your actions since then--

FW: Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it. Whatever.

She storms out of the door, and before she can slam it GM the Rick calls out after her.

GMtR: A pleasure as always, Fire. Nice to see you're feeling better.

[mooseheadjack]

Chris Evans knocks on the door of Poe’s locker room.

Poe: Who is it? We’re in a meeting.

Evans: It’s the new guy. Look, we need to talk.

Poe opens the door and Evans walks in. MHJ and Tytan are staring daggers into the young rookie for attacking Moose and taking his title, twice.

Tytan: You wanna take this belt from me, punk? I’ll even close my eyes. You know, so it’s like hitting me from behind?

Evans: Cute. Look, you can keep that. I don’t want any problems from you, not now, not ever. As for Moose, like I told him, I had nothing against him. He just happened to have the belt at the time, and I wanted my first taste of gold, or whatever that thing is made of. But anyway, enough about that. What I want is just what you all want: revenge. Now, we all have our own objectives in this federation, but it seems that each of us has an identical thorn in our side, D.H. Magnusson.

He nearly put all of us on the shelf, and he nearly ended Poe’s career. Now, something needs to be done about this, and the first thing we can do is focus on making sure that…

Seamus: Hey, who died and made you leader? We’re trying to make a plan of our own.

Evans: Did I say I was a leader? No, I’m not the leader of anything. Anyway, as I was saying, I’m not sure what your plan is, but the first thing we need to focus on is the Fatal 4 Way matchup at Dance of Death V. Personally, I don’t really care if I win that title or not, and after that, you guys can do what you want with the rest of RunDEA, but I’ll be damned if I let that bastard leave with the OOWF Onslaught title around his waist.

Seamus: Well…alright. From what I’ve seen, despite your inexperience, you’ve got talent, and right now, we can use all the help we can get. Plus, I haven’t seen anything from you yet that shows we can’t trust you, other than that attack on Moose, and even then, we’ve all wanted to smash Moose with a chair at least once, even when it wasn’t for that belt. I guess we can trust you, for now.

Moose: Fuck you Seamus.

Evans: Great, so whats your plan?

Seamus: Alright, this is whats gonna happen…

*fade to black*

[mooseheadjack]

The scene opens up in the parking lot of Kincaid’s hotel on the “morning after”. We see Tyson standing behind his familiar Aston Martin as he loads his suitcase and gym bag into the boot of the car.

From off screen, GM The Rick approaches Kincaid.

GMtR: Hey, Tyson. You got a minute?

Kincaid turns and looks wearily at The Rick.

TK: Sure, I guess. What do you want?

GMtR: I need to talk to you.

TK: Yeah? About what?

GMtR: You know that SFJ we sent up to your room to interview you last night?

Kincaid displays a brief, thin smile.

TK: How could I forget?

GMtR: Well, it turns out she did a little more than interview you.

TK: Is that what you heard? Well, all I can say is that she was a great comfort to me. It’s been a rough time for me lately.

GMtR: A little too rough it seems. The girl came to me this morning and told me you had some problems…errrr…”during”.

TK: Excuse me? She didn’t seem to have any problems with my performance. As a matter of fact…

The Rick holds up a hand.

GMtR: Let me stop you right there. I’m not talking about any kind of…uhhh….”performance issues”.

TK: Then what exactly are you talking about?

GMtR: She says that you had trouble breathing and that you were having chest pains. She’s worried about you, and so am I.

TK: Well, I appreciate the concern, but it’s her word against mine. You have no evidence, so I see no reason why I should have to explain anything to you.

GMtR: Actually, I do have evidence – video evidence.

GMtR reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a VHS.

GMtR: This tape has the entire evening on it, from the time she arrived at your hotel room to the time that she left this morning.

TK: Alright, fine. So what do you want from me?

GMtR: Well, for starters, would you mind telling me why this tape even exists?

A painfully awkward silence follows before Kincaid finally answers.

TK: OK, see it’s like this. When I went out to hang the “Do Not Disturb” sign, the Ninja Cam was still there. He asked me if he could come in for a drink, too. Clearly he didn’t understand that “would you like a drink?” really means “would you like to park the beef bus in tuna town?” which, in turn, really means “would you like to have sex?” But he just stood there, looking so sad and left-out. I know what that feels like, so I let him come in. I thought he was just going to jerk off and help himself to the mini-bar, but I guess he decided to do a little nature photography while he was at it.

The Rick stares at Kincaid for a moment.

GMtR: Well, I can’t really fault you for any of that. I know what it’s like to make the mistake of bringing a camera into the bedroom. As a matter of fact, there was this one time with Erin when we…

Tyson raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

GMtR: You know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything.

TK: It’s in the vault.

The Rick composes himself and looks Kincaid in the eye.

GMtR: Here’s the bottom line, Kincaid. I want you to go see a doctor and get some tests done. I’m not going to let you compete on Sunday until I see note from a doctor that tells me you’re physically able to.

Kincaid begins to argue, but The Rick stops him.

GMtR: Don’t waste your time. I’ve made my decision.

The Rick turns and walks away as Kincaid continues to look at him with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

Fade

[mooseheadjack]

The Amnesiac stands in front of a mirror in the palatial IHOP locker room. No one else is around. He's furiously scrubbing the sharpie off of his chest, and muttering to himself.

AMN: Son of a... I can't believe that fucking... well, if he thought I was a threat before, then wait til he sees me now.

Fezzik comes into the locker room. He sees The Amnesiac and goes over to him.

F: What happened to you?

AMN: That son of a bitch DAVID MORELAND took it upon himself to ambush me and write his name on my chest in permanent marker.

F: You want me to go take him out?

AMN: No, Fezzik, that won't be necessary. I'm sure DAVIS will get the point when I take that title belt from him on Sunday... you've got my back, right big guy?

F: Absolutely. I'll be right there, making sure no one interferes.

At this point, The Amnesiac has gotten all the marker off of his chest, but a hefty red splotch remains where the writing was.

AMN: Believe me, I'm gonna leave NAVIN Moreland's chest just as red as mine is right now. If he thinks he's ever seen a man possessed before, he's never seen The Amnesiac when he's truly motivated. If Poe and Stank thought they had a chance in this match on Sunday, they'd better think again.

With that, The Amnesiac storms out. He passes Skurge and SYB walking into the locker room. They try to greet him, but he just walks right by. Skurge and SYB look to Fezzik, confused.

SYB: What's up his ass?

Fezzik: Nothing, but Davin Moreland sure has gotten under his skin.

Skurge: Oh shit... I feel soory for him. I've seen The Amnesiac pissed of before... it's not a pretty sight.

*FADE TO BLACK*

[mooseheadjack]

As Seamus, Tytan, Moosehead Jack, and Chris Evans talk in Poe's locker room, Poe continues to meditate on the floor. He suddenly speaks, although still not opening his eyes.

Poe: The plan is quite simple boys. I will take Davin Moreland's World Title. Tytan will take FireWoman's Intercontinental Title. Seamus will retain the Onslaught Championship. We will watch each others' backs. Chris Evans, if you truly wish to assist us in our campaign to rid the OOWF of Run DEA, Dance of Death V will be a place to show us what you are capable of, both in talent and loyalty. Then we'll watch Eric O'Mac destory the Boy. Good times will be had by all.

CE: How's your...well everything?

Poe: Quite painful, but I will manage. Pain is thine enemy & I shall not let it win.

SG: Plus he has the best masseuse in the world!

They all look at Selena.

SG: That means me.

MHJ: Yes, I assumed it did Mouse.

SM: Yer seemin' a bit calm there, Poe. Ya sure yer okay?

Poe: I am fine. I am envisioning ways to make the Darlings' lives a living Hell for laying their hands on Selena.

MHJ: Then there's Fire...

SG: Yeah...I thought she liked me. She was being all nice to me and stuff.

Poe: Don't worry goddess. I will be seeing FireWoman very very soon.

[mooseheadjack]

Firewoman is WALKING~! down the hallway, and sees Chris Evans leaving the PMS locker rooms.

FW: Yo, Cubheart. What the fuck are you doing?

CE: Huh? I ... uh...

FW: Look, you're new here, so let me clue you in on a few things.

She successfully maneuvers Evans around, like the pro she is at such things, to where his back is against a wall, between a trashcan and a stack of pallets, so he can't go anywhere.

FW: First off, I don't care if you trained with Ric Flair himself, you are new, and I don't know you. DH Magnusson has been a friend and ally to me when many would have just turned their backs, and in fact many did. You? You are an unknown quantity who just happened to train at the same place. So while that does give us some common heritage, it comes nowhere near the relationship I have with DH. On top of that, we're both in the same team, so what in the blue hell makes you think I would turn on him to come to the aid of you, just because you may have used my old locker, Smalltown?

CE: I... uh...

FW: In the real world here? It's all about loyalty. You want me to have your back? Then stop nosing around Poe's locker room. There's no love loss between us, or Tytan for that matter, so you take up with them I'm gonna assume you don't have any interest in earning my respect or loyalty, and if that's the case, then whiny little promos about our esteemed wrestling lineage aren't going to earn it.

CE: What about Seamus though? and Moose?

FW: What about nunya bidness, Sunshine?

CE: Are you done?

FW: Oh, I could go on for days. But yeah, I'm done. You can go.

CE: Oh, can I??? Gee, thanks so much, ma'am for imparting your wisdom upon me. Where oh where would I have been without it? Now if you'll kindly step the fuck off so I can go on my way, I'd hate for us to have a problem. Seems like you have enough of those as it is.

Firewoman stares at him for a while, and then smiles. Not her usual evil smile, or that predator-stalking-prey smile she gets, but a genuine one.

FW: Nice. You'll fit in around here quite well. And if you're really looking for a team, maybe stop by RunDEA Suites sponsored by Aquafina.

Firewoman leaves and continues on her way, leaving Evans with some things to think about.

[mooseheadjack]

[GMTR is in The Heroes Guild lockerroom with Nayr and Bryce. Everyone around is wearing a HG t-shirt...except Bryce.]

GMTR: Gentlemen, you have a big match on Sunday. The winner gets the guaranteed OOWF World Tag Team Title shot with a partner of his choosing.

N: Yeah--

BL: I'm looking forward to my tag title shot.

GMTR: You have to win first Bryce.

BL: ...

GMTR: Now, I'm a big fan of keeping things moving along. So I need both of you to understand one thing. I fully expect the winner of this match to declare who his partner will be immediately after the match.

N: No problem.

BL: No problem? You already have your partner picked out, huh? Is is 'Crete? Blitz? Wrath? Yeah, [sarcastically] all great choices.

N: Really? Who do you have in mind.

BL: I've gotten some offers. I'm still deliberting.

N: Deliberating? How hard can it be?

BL: Hey, I've gotten a lot of calls, what can I say.

GMTR: Regardless, Bryce, you're a little banged up after your Gauntlet on Wednesday.

BL: I'll be fine.

GMTR: Would you say you underestimated Matte?

BL: You could say that.

GMTR: Right. Let that be a lesson to you. I guarantee you that Nayr will bring it this weekend.

BL: Yeah, don't think I don't expect that. I do.

GMTR: Good. Now--

BL: You know what, I need to head out. I have a match to prepare for, and a "partner of my choosing" to choose. Gentlemen...


[Bryce takes off, with the entire HG and GMTR looking on in amazement. OOWF cameras follow BL into the hallway, where he can't seem to find any peace.]


Chris Evans: Hey Bryce. Remember me, from the Storm Wrestling Academy?

BL: I didn't train there.

CE: Yeah, but yo uattended some of Lance's seminars.

BL: That's right, I do remember that. I remember that, but not you.

CE: You don't remember when you got an attitude with Lance and he had me drop you on your head?

BL: Right...how could I forget.

CE: Yeah, well let's put that past us. You have a big opportunity if you win on Sunday.

BL: Yes, I know that.

CE: Well, I have confidence in you, and I want to put my name out there when you consider your partner.

BL: You? You know what, I'll take it under advisement. The list is growing, but your name is on it.

CE: Alright, I'm glad we had this chat. I have some other people to go talk to, but I'll be around.

BL: Right.


[Evans heads one way, and Bryce heads the other. But he can only take one step before he bumps into a rather large man.]


BL: Let me guess, Nearly Perfect Diamond Cutter time for me, Davis?

Davin Moreland: Davin Moreland can appreciate "King of the Indies" Bryce "Bad Ass Dragon" Larson's attempt at humor.

BL: I'm glad for you, then.

DM: But Davin Moreland is here to talk to Bryce Larson about a different subject matter.

BL: Under one condition, no diamond cutter.

DM: Bryce Larson needs to realize that Nearly Perfect Diamond Cutters happen to people with traitors watching their back. Davin Moreland thinks Bryce Larson could use an upgrade in his "posse," so to speak.

BL: Well Davin Moreland's "posse" has already had 5 members attack Bryce Larson at some point, so I think I'm good on my own.

DM: Davin Moreland--

BL: Listen, let's talk normal for a minute, okay. Not in third person? What do you want?

DM: You know what Bryce, I respect the fact that you welt balls out and took on a Gauntlet match with a ten minute time limit. I respect the fact that you want to advance your career and be a champion. I just think that if you want to get on the fast track, then Run DEA might be the way to go.

BL: Why would I join a group who attacks me on 5 occasions.

DM: Because you're either with us or against us. If you're with us, we make moves like that for you.

BL: Fine, I'll add you guys to the list. Happy?

DM: Throw away this list. It's worthless. After you win on Sunday, the only name you need to remember is Davin Moreland. We'll take you to the promise land.

BL: I'll keep it in mind, okay? I appreciate you keeping the Diamond Cutter to yourself.

DM: No problem. Good luck Sunday.

BL: You too.

[Both men go their separate ways, until Bryce's phone rings.]

BL: [Answer's phone] Davin, I just talked to you, and you're still in the hallway. Listen, I'll turn around and come talk to you--

Davin nails Bryce with a NEARLY PERFECT DIAMOND CUTTER!

DM: Like Davin Moreland said to Bryce Larson, you're either with Run DEA or you're against Run DEA.


Bryce is on the ground in pain, and Eric O'Mac happens by, seeing him laying.]

EOM: [points down to Bryce] HA!

Eric drops an autographed picture of himself on Bryce's chest. The inscription?

"Bryce - Add this guy to your list. - Warmest regards, Eric.