GLASS UP YOUR ASS
HOW MANY RELIGIONS DO WE HAVE HERE, ANYWAY?
WHERE OH WHERE HAS OUR LITTLE SPITE GONE?
I CAN SEE MY HOUSE FROM HERE!
2-FOR-1 RUBBER CHICKEN BLOWOUT SALE!
RICO AND DIEGO SHOULD GO ON JERRY SPRINGER

TETE: What a night! Everything is on the line tonight. We've got the hunt for gold, the hunt for justice, the hunt for retribution, and, most intriguingly, the hunt for Spite, whoever or whatever that may be.

FLOYD: You think it's another member of Malice's family, Poppa?

TETE: It's entirely possible.

FLOYD: Maybe a family pet.

TETE: I guess, but what would C-Cube want with a dog?

FLOYD: Don't Indians eat dogs, Poppa?

TETE: Oh, dear God...

FLOYD: Which reminds me... isn’t La Parka supposed to...?

Right then, Britney Spears’ "Oops, I Did It Again" bursts over the sound system, much to the distaste of the audience, who immediately begins voicing their displeasure. La Parka comes out, carrying his customized steel chair in a leather sheath on his back. He climbs into the ring, yelling to the booing audience. He unzips the sheath and pulls out his special chair, gleaming in the lights as if he had just polished it.

FLOYD: Come on, Crazy Mac, get out here, hurry!

TETE: I thought you didn’t like Crazy Mac.

FLOYD: It’s the lesser of two annoyances, Papa!

TETE: By the way... is there anyone you DON’T hate?

FLOYD: Yeah... me.

Frank Zappa’s "The Radio Is Broken" replaces the previous music, and the audience’s boos of annoyance are replaced by cheers of relief. Crazy Mac is wheeled out and released beside the ramp. He jumps into the ring and runs back and forth, bouncing off the ropes with his arms in the air, screaming at the top of his lungs. He comes to a screeching halt, staring wide-eyed at the audience around him, and screams one final time.

While all this goes on, a ringside assistant rolls a cart with more than a dozen steel chairs lying on top of it.

TETE: I think we’d better explain the rules, here. This is a Steel Chair match, and Crazy Mac and La Parka are allowed to use any chairs in any way they wish, EXCEPT to take the pin. If they want to pin their opponent, they’d better knock him down with something other than a chair.

FLOYD: So it’s kind of like a wussied-down version of a Hardcore match... how lame.

TETE: Have you ever been hit with a steel chair?

FLOYD: Uhh... it’s still lame.

The assistant leaves the cart beside the ring and retreats to the backstage area. The referee briefly explains the rules to the two wrestlers in the center of the ring, then steps back, calling for the match to begin as he does so. La Parka, still holding his gleaming customized chair, immediately rushes at Crazy Mac, but Mac, expecting the quick attack, ducks down and catches La Parka with his shoulder and flips him over. La Parka flies across the ring and crashes into the ropes, dropping his chair outside the ring. Crazy Mac comes over and begins stomping at La Parka’s midsection. La Parka quickly rolls outside of the ring, and Crazy Mac follows after him.

FLOYD: Yes! Yes! Get those chairs!

TETE: It looks like they’re actually taking your advice.

FLOYD: Scary, isn’t it?

La Parka seems instinctively drawn to his customized chair, while Mac heads straight for the cart and grabs a chair of his own. They both whirl around towards each other at the same time, swinging their respective chairs. Their weapons clash togther, each one deflecting the other’s shot. La Parka swings his chair again, but Mac manages to parry the shot once again.

TETE: My God, it’s like they’re fencing!

FLOYD: I don’t see how it resembles activity involving street obstructions, Papa.

TETE: Shut up, Floyd.

La Parka presses the attack, still swinging his chair, and Mac keeps blocking the swings, sometimes using his chair like a shield, even. As they circle around the ring, La Parka swings his chair one more time, and Crazy Mac uses the opportunity to rush forward, holding his chair in front of him, and crashes into La Parka. They both fall to the floor, but Crazy Mac is back on his feet immediately.

Instead of pressing the attack, Mac rushes over to the chair cart and grabs four of them under his arms. He slides them all into the ring and follows right after them, and quickly sets to work leaning them all up against each other, like a teepee. He then jumps back out of the ring and grabs three more chairs, then stacks those in a triangle on top of the first stack, creating a large tower of chairs.

FLOYD: Does he think he’s an architect or something?

TETE: Maybe, somewhere deep inside his fevered mind, he actually has a plan.

Crazy Mac climbs under the ropes once again and grabs La Parka by the arm, hoists him to his feet, and rolls him back into the ring. Mac climbs back in after him and prepares to throw him into his stack of chairs, but La Parka manages to reverse the move, and ends up throwing Crazy Mac into the large pile of chairs, instead. The tower shatters, throwing the chairs in all directions. Most fall down onto Crazy Mac, but one flies backwards onto the announcer’s table.

FLOYD: Watch it, will ya?!? You almost hit me!

TETE: Would that be so tragic?

La Parka leans up against the turnbuckle for a few moments, regaining his strength, before he goes back across the ring to where Crazy Mac lay. La Parka grabs one of the fallen chairs and begins pounding on Mac, but most of the impact got absorbed by the few other chairs lying on top of Crazy Mac.

After a few swings of the chair, Crazy Mac kicks his legs up, knocking one of the chairs into La Parka’s shins. La Parka falls backwards, crouching down and holding his legs in pain, giving Mac a chance to climb back up to his feet. He grabs one of the chairs and swings it sideways at La Parka, catching him in the gut. La Parka stumbles backward into the turnbuckle, getting hung up on the ropes. Crazy Mac holds his chair in front of himself and rushes forward, intending to smash into La Parka again, but La Parka swings his legs upward and kicks the chair into Crazy Mac’s face. Crazy Mac falls backwards to the mat, with a trickle of blood dripping down his forehead.

TETE: Crazy Mac’s been busted wide open!

FLOYD: Isn’t that phrase overused a tad?

TETE: If you can think of a better one, you let me know.

La Parka jumps out of the ring and seeks out his custom chair. He grabs it and jumps back in the ring just as Crazy Mac staggers to his feet. Just as Mac whirls around, he’s met by La Parka’s Godlike Chair shot. A resounding clang echoes about the arena, and Crazy Mac flies backwards into the ropes, where he bounces off and collapses to the mat. La Parka flips him over and goes for the cover, but the ref refuses to count!

TETE: La Parka knocked Crazy Mac down with a chair! He has to put him down without using the chair!

FLOYD: I don’t think La Parka remembers that little stipulation.

La Parka holds the pin for a few moments, yelling at the ref to begin counting. When the ref refuses again, La Parka jumps up and advances on the referee. They begin yelling back and forth at each other.

While they’re distracted, Crazy Mac climbs back to his feet. He staggers around for a bit, finally coming to rest up against the ropes. He stays there for a few moments, then notices La Parka standing across the ring from him. He rushes forward just as La Parka turns back to the fight. Crazy Mac lifts his arm for a clothesline, but La Parka ducks underneath at the last second, then kicks Crazy Mac in the ribs from behind. Crazy Mac bounces into the ropes again and rebounds, and La Parka takes the opportunity to DDT him into the mat. He flips Crazy Mac over once again, and this time the ref begins counting... 1... 2... 3!

TETE: La Parka picks up the win!

FLOYD: Oh, no, that means that we’re gonna hear...

La Parka’s music hits as the ref holds his hand up in victory, but after a few moments, La Parka pulls his arm away and rushes over to grab his chair, and then proceeds to pound on Crazy Mac a bit more. The referee tries to pull him away, but La Parka smacks Crazy Mac in the head one last time before departing from the ring and heading back up the ramp. He stops at the top to throw his arms in the air one last time, then disappears underneath the Abbottron.

FLOYD: Oh, God, I can still feel the evil of Britney ... it's all around us.

TETE: Cool it, Floyd. Our next match is ... (turns around and speaks to someone) What? Now?

FLOYD: Poppa, what's up?

TETE: I'm told there's more backstage footage. Or actually, in this case, rooftop footage.

We cut to a shot of the roof of the Compaq Center. Angst leads Steve Roman to a ledge, where Malice walks calmly back and forth, not in the least concerned by the hundred foot drop below him. Roman offers a cigarette to Malice.

MALICE: No thank you.

ROMAN: Okay.

There is a long pause. Malice turns to Angst

MALICE: Leave us, brother.

Angst starts to argue, but Malice just points.

MALICE: Go find Odium.

Angst goes.

ROMAN: You run a pretty tight ship.

MALICE: Maybe, but it wasn't enough.

ROMAN: Wasn't enough?

MALICE: Your opponent tonight has kidnapped my sister, Spite. I shouldn't have brought her, I know, but she's been begging for the opportunity and I weakened.

ROMAN: Too bad. What's this got to do with me? I've got my own problems tonight.

MALICE: I know that. That's why I'd like for you to help me find her. Perhaps we can assist one another.

ROMAN: What about Cabrera? He's helping out, isn't?

MALICE: Of course. So much he's been neglecting training for his match tonight. But it's beenfive days and no sign of her. I hate asking for help, Roman. Don't make me beg.

ROMAN (resigned sigh): How do you know it was C-Cube?

MALICE: What? Because he told me.

ROMAN: He told you?

MALICE: He made reference to it just before our match last night.

ROMAN: Maybe he saw who did take her. But I don't think it was him.

MALICE: Why not?

ROMAN: It's not his style. Besides, I'd heard she got taken during your brothers' match.

MALICE: Yes, that's true.

ROMAN: Weren't C-Cube's boys a little busy then? I know mine were.

MALICE: But if not C-Cube then who?

ROMAN: Two words: Glass Man.

A look of horrific realization comes over Malice's face.

ROMAN: Look into it.

Roman leaves the rooftop to Malice and his thoughts.  

TETE: What a doozy of a show we've had so far tonight!

FLOYD: I knew that thirty bucks all you folks at home had to cough up would pay off!

TETE: Well, next, we've got three young men, all looking to make it big here in USXWF, and what an eclectic group!

FLOYD: I'll say. The Lineman, Scott Raye, and Fate.

TETE: Fate, of course, has run afoul of a number of individuals here just by virtue of his existence! Avron LongArm and Jimmy Steele don't seem to much like him, and I daresay the Harbinger seems to have a serious problem with him!

FLOYD: Gimmick infringement is not a pretty thing, Poppa.

The "Nebraska Fight Song Remix" comes over the speakers and the Lineman comes out, grinning like the star athlete that he is. He holds a football in one hand, which he signs and tosses into the crowd, and a jersey in the other, which he also signs and tosses into the crowd.

TETE: Boy, do these people love the Lineman!

FLOYD: What's not to love? He's an American hero! Like - like Charles Lindbergh! Or John Wayne! Or even Kurt Angle!

The Lineman climbs into the ring and continues to play to the crowd, striking poses and waving to the adoring crowd.

"Run" by Pink Floyd hits, and Scott Raye comes down with a mic in his hand, a clear-eyed, All-American youth. His eyes shine with adulation at the Lineman, who turns and faces him grimly, expecting an immediate attack. Instead, Scott Raye walks over and shakily extends his hand.

RAYE: Sir, my name is Scott Raye and this will be my first experience in the professional wrestling world. And I just want to say that it is a huge honor to have my first match be against someone like ... someone like you. I'm a big, big fan.

The Lineman uncertainly takes Raye's hand, seemingly half expecting a dirty trick to follow, a kick to the groin perhaps. But there is no dirty trick. Raye shakes the Lineman's hand vigorously. The Lineman takes the mic from Raye.

LINEMAN: Well, it's great to finally meet somebody with some sportsmanship around here. Seems like my past few matches have been ruined by bad behavior. Now I know you'd never stoop to something like cheating to get ahead, would you, Scott?

Scott shakes his head, wide-eyed and listening intently.

LINEMAN: You see, Scott, the way things work around here-

A church bell rings out and a Gregorian chant comes up as Fate appears at the top of the ramp, Reverend Spank beside him. Spank, as usual, has a mic in his hand. Fate slowly begins to descend the ramp as Spank talks.

SPANK: God has seen the work of Satan here, in this very ring, and He has ordained that my soldier of Christ be made to be His sword of retribution. The sin of pride is well-chronicled in the book of God, Lineman ... give in to the power of God, that your soul may be cleansed. I give you this opportunity now, in full view of the other sinners present, that they may learn from you.

LINEMAN: Just get down here, Reverend, and bring your big mute friend with you.

SPANK: Very well. Since you refuse a spiritual cleansing, I have no choice but to present you with a physical one. You shall weep the tears of the wicked, Lineman, before this night is over, and it will be at the hands of my soldier. I see the boy beside you, the boy you now try to corrupt with your sinful pride and wicked, selfish blasphemy ... boy, will you be saved now, or do you choose to suffer a physical cleansing as your Lineman does?

Raye seems unsure of what to say.

RAYE: Well, I ... you seem nice and all, but....

Fate has reached the ring, and the Lineman doesn't give Spank any further chance to poison Raye's mind. He charges straight in and clocks Fate right in the jaw. As the bell rings to start the match, Fate looks at the Lineman in the same way one might examine a urine sample, then grabs the Lineman by the throat and tosses him into the ropes. As the Lineman bounces back, Fate clotheslines him. Raye is unsure of what he should do.

TETE: Fate is taking the Lineman to the woodshed here. If Scott Raye doesn't step in, it's going to be over practically before it's started.

The Lineman bravely goes for a belly-to-belly suplex on Fate, but it really doesn't do much. Fate is just too big and too animalistic to let something like that keep him down. Fate grabs the Lineman's head roughly and DDTs him into the mat, and HARD.

TETE: My God! A thunderous DDT from Fate.

FLOYD: This guy reminds me a little of Kane ... only way less vocal.

Scott Raye is still uncertain as to what his next move should be. He stands frozen as Fate continues to physically take apart the Lineman punch by punch and power move by power move.

TETE: Looks like Scott Raye has come down with an inconvenient case of stage fright.

FLOYD: Inconvenient for the Lineman, anyway.

Fate has just powerbombed the Lineman to the mat, and he finally goes for the pin. 1...2... a long two and the Lineman gets the shoulder up! Raye's jaw drops at the Lineman's stamina, and Fate himself even seems a little surprised. As the Lineman gets to his feet, Fate drives one of his big knees into the Lineman's gut, and the Lineman doubles over, and receives another DDT from Fate. Fate then drags a barely-conscious Lineman to the top rope, and delivers a piledriver from the top rope to the mat.

TETE: He calls that move Planting the Cross, and the Lineman is just about finished!

Fate pins the Lineman, who is in no position to kick out.

TETE: That's it, it's over, folks.

On the two count, Scott Raye suddenly lashes out with his foot and kicks Fate in the head. Fate looks up with a great deal of surprise. Reverend Spank is shouting instructions from ringside, but it looks like something might have just snapped inside Fate.

TETE: Scott Raye makes his first move in USXWF ... not a very wise one, either.

FLOYD: Fate sure doesn't look happy about it.

Fate stands to his full height, then reaches out for a chokeslam, but Scott Raye's lightning-quick block, sends Fate's hand flying harmlessly to the side. Raye delivers a chop to Fate's chest. Fate headbutts Raye, and Raye reels backwards across the ring. But Raye is definitely no weakling, and he's got some stamina as well. He comes back with a blow to Fate's face that clearly is stinging more than the Lineman's did. Then he hits Fate with a drop toe hold into the ropes. Fate bounces back, and directly into Scott Raye's rolling german suplex.

TETE: Scott Raye is more than holding his own here.

FLOYD: Who'da thunk it?

Fate grabs Raye by the throat, and tosses him into the ropes, much as he did with the Lineman earlier, and follows that up with a European uppercut that hurts Raye. Momentarily stunned, Raye doesn't even notice he's in trouble until Fate has already chokeslammed him to the mat and his breath is gone. Fate grabs Raye up, ties his arms up in the ropes, and flips him over to the outside of the ring, where he hangs in grotesque homage to a crucifix.

TETE: Now, that isn't right! That's just tasteless, right there!

Reverend Spank walks over and takes a vial out of his pocket.

SPANK: It is now time for your physical cleansing, my son.

His mouth begins moving, but there are no words we can hear. Just as he's about to sprinkle the contents of the vial on Raye's face, the Lineman bounds over the ropes and knocks the vial out of Spank's hands - and onto Fate's arm. Smoke begins to rise from the cloth on Fate's arm, and then the cloth burns away altogether, allowing the liquid to soak Fate's skin. Fate doesn't even flinch.

TETE: My God! That's - that's acid!

FLOYD: Yeah, and it just fell all over Fate and he didn't even glance at it!

The Lineman grabs Fate and shoves him back into the ring. Raye bounces Fate off of the ropes and into a bone-crunching shoulder tackle from the Lineman, who used to do that kind of thing on a football field. Fate gets up after a moment, and takes a swing at Raye, who ducks under his arm, then flips him over his head and off his legs. Fate ends up in a heap across the ring. The Lineman and Raye run over, look at each other, and simultaneously pin him, each leaving one arm on Fate's prone body. The ref counts. 1...2...3! The ref raises the arms of both Scott Raye and the Lineman, who celebrate with another handshake.

TETE: My God, what a finish! And what a team we have here!

FLOYD: Could this be the beginning of bigger and better things for these two?

TETE: I don't know, Floyd. But those two worked together more naturally than just about any non-tag team alliance I've ever seen. We'll find out on Trauma I guess.

FLOYD: Why do we have to wait ‘til Trauma? I wanna know now!