Weekend Warbash

We begin with a live shot of the Alamodome in San Antonio, Texas. Overhead, a plane flies with the words: HELLO, USXWF! trailing along on a banner. Big Poppa Tete's voice comes over the television.

TETE: Good evening, and welcome to another evening of sports entertainment, courtesy of USXWF and, once again after Hostile Takeover, the Founding Five!

We cut to the inside of the Alamodome, where an especially loud and pumped-up crowd has been waiting through dark matches and "The Star-Spangled Banner" for one of the biggest shows in USXWF history. Some of the signs tonight include:

I KIDNAPPED SPITE!
THE MASK, THE HARBINGER, AND FATE: SEPARATED AT BIRTH?
STEVE ROMAN IS A FOOL!
HOW'S YOUR FACE, C-CUBE?
THE GLASS MAN DID IT!
SAN ANTONIO LOVES THE CHOSEN PEDOPHILE
THE JESTER JESTS NO MORE?!?

We cut to Poppa Tete and his longtime companion Floyd Hermesol seated behind the announce table.

TETE: What a pay-per-view we had in Houston, Floyd!

FLOYD: Yeah, it was an amazing show. Never mind the fact that the only people that came out ahead were the jerks!

TETE: What are you talking about? Steve Roman is still USXWF Champion!

FLOYD: Exactly! It should have been C-Cube! You know it, and so does everyone else here! Malice cheated!

TETE: He did cheat, and then he fixed it by taking out C-Cube as well!

FLOYD: But he helped Roman win. He helped ROMAN win, Poppa, not C-Cube, which is what he was supposed to do.

TETE: I don't blame him. If I was being used in that way, I'd do the same thing.

FLOYD: Business is business and personal is personal.

TETE: I'd say it was damn personal! The man's family was under attack!

FLOYD: But by who?

TETE: Well, that's a real good question.

"Hail to the Chief" hits and all of the members of the Founding Five come out, big grins plastered on their faces, Diego Cabrera in tow. The crowd pops hugely, and fireworks go off as the Founding Five make their way down the ramp. Ty Emeterio, as usual, goes to all four corners of the ring and raises his hands above his head, riling the crowd even more, as Brandon Schmidt crouches in a corner, the Brothers Benton lean coolly against the ropes, and Brian Harris picks up a mic and walks to the center of the ring. The crowd pops again as Harris is about to speak, and then Cabrera gives a signal, and hundreds of balloons drop from the ceiling.

TETE: Well, we are in the midst of a huge celebration here on Trauma, as the papers were signed early this morning - it's official - the United States Extreme Wrestling Federation is back under the ownership of Founding Five, Inc.

FLOYD: Look at Harris smirking ... you know he's not even a businessman. He's an actor.

TETE: A pretty good one, from what I hear.

FLOYD (grudgingly): He's mediocre at best, but he occasionally comes up with something brilliant.

Harris looks around at the others, all of whom are grinning. Harris raises the mic to his lips.

HARRIS: The Founding Five are back in the building, ladies and gents. And we are back in charge.

The crowd pops.

HARRIS: The papers were signed about eight this morning. Rico Laser has turned all of USXWF's assets back over to the people who put it on top ... that'd be us. And I'm proud to say that Rico Laser has also agreed, under executive order, to take a paternity test to determine the fatherhood of Diego Cabrera's grandson. All's well that ends well. We are on the verge of new territory here in USXWF. Because if Laser tests positive as the boy's father, he will be released from USXWF so that he can go back to Mexico and take care of his little boy.

The crowd pops again at this certainty.

HARRIS: With Laser's absence, USXWF will be turning a corner. There will need to be a replacement for him at the top of the roster, and we'll be watching carefully tonight. It could be anyone from La Parka to Candyman, so everyone work your hardest ... you could be the next #1 contender for the USXWF title!

TETE: Too bad for Laser. But he was getting stale anyway.

FLOYD: Stale? He's still the greatest in-ring technician here or anywhere else.

HARRIS: With that in mind, I and the other Four have written a card for tonight that will give us the best example of all of our roster's talents. The only thing we don't have is a main event. But things are so perfect ... since Laser's gone, everyone's getting along so well ... I just can't think of anything that would be exciting enough.

"Sad but True" hits, and Steve Roman and Dirty Deeds come down, belt slung over his shoulder and scowl very present on his face. He walks down to the ring, climbs between the ropes, and gets nose-to-nose with Harris.

TETE: Uh oh. Steve Roman VERY unhappy about what happened Sunday, I assume.

Harris offers Roman his mic, which Roman accepts.

ROMAN: So everyone's getting along, huh? No problems? No issues at all? Did you even SEE Hostile Takeover, man?

Harris takes the mic back.

HARRIS: Actually, no, I had rehearsal.

FLOYD: See? Damn actor.

ROMAN: Oh ... rehearsal. Did any of you see it?

Slow shakes of the head from everyone. Emeterio comes forward and takes the mic.

EMETERIO: I don't remember. I was drunk.

The crowd laughs.

ROMAN: I see. Well, it's obvious that you don't know what's going on. I'm not going to go into too much detail, I'll let someone else fill you in, but I've got a main event for you: Steve Roman vs. Malice. I want Malice in this ring tonight, come hell or high water. I'll put the belt on the line if I have to, but I want that son of a bitch in here ... he has to pay for what he did last night.

HARRIS (shrugs): Okay. Can do. You and Malice.

"Fuck 'em and Their Law" hits and C-Cube comes out onto the stage, Brothers Hand and Chet Stevens by his side. He, too, looks furious and has a mic in his hand.

FLOYD: It's starting to look like a convention out there.

TETE: Yep, lot of people.

Dirty Deeds and the Brothers Hand are gesturing at each other from across the ramp and ring, but C-Cube raises a hand and it stops.

C-CUBE: That's not exactly fair, now is it? You weren't the only one who got screwed last night, Roman. Malice and I had a deal, and he broke the bargain.

ROMAN: You coward. You expect pity after what you tried to do?

C-CUBE: I expect nothing. Part of the game is strategic, Roman, you know that. Yes, I broke the rules a little to get what I wanted. You weren't clever enough to think of it, so it seems to me that that belt slung so carelessly over your shoulder is rightfully mine.

ROMAN: So what do you want?

C-CUBE: The same thing you want, "Icon". I want Malice in that ring. And I want you. For the title. This time, there will be no mistakes.

Emeterio takes the mic from Harris.

EMETERIO: Sounds fine to us. You guys just do what you gotta do, okay? We'll just book it. Just settle it so we can go to commercial though. We've got sponsors, you know.

ROMAN: Fine. Me, you, and the Brewing Storm for the title. You're on.

C-Cube nods and he and the Brothers Hand and Stevens start to go.

TETE: Well, there you have it. The main event is set. We'll be back after-

"Supernova Goes Pop" hits, and the crowd explodes. Close-up on Schmidt, who is rolling his eyes, and Chris Benton, who straightens his tie.

TETE: Malice is here! I guess we're not going to commercial if he's got something to say.

FLOYD: Oh no, God forbid we cut off the "Brewing Storm", whatever the hell that means.

Malice comes out of the audience and gets into the ring. Steve Roman and Dirty Deeds surround him immediately and advance on him menacingly.

MALICE: Hold it, Roman.

ROMAN: I thought you were better than what you did last night.

MALICE: You would have done it too ... to get your sister back you would have done the same thing.

ROMAN: Maybe, but that isn't the point. You could have cost me my title. You have to be punished for that, Malice.

MALICE: Fine. You want me tonight, you've got me, remember? I'm here to demand of the Commissioner that we make this Triple Threat match into a Fatal Fourway.

The crowd pops.

TETE: Malice wants the person that took his sister.

FLOYD: Who is it, Poppa?

Chris Benton grabs hold of a mic.

BENTON: Who have you got in mind, Malice?

Malice pauses. A dark, very sinister look comes over his face.

MALICE: Rico Laser...

The crowd pops and the look on everyone's faces in the ring is pure gold. C-Cube is the only one who seems unsurprised. Schmidt starts to laugh.

TETE: Laser? Rico Laser? That doesn't make any sense!

BENTON: Are you sure, Malice?

MALICE: That's what my sister said.

ROMAN: But why?

C-CUBE: Not to be cliched, but it's elementary. Malice, you said yourself that Diego Cabrera was so busy tracking your sister down that he didn't have the time to train for his match with Laser. That's exactly what Laser wanted. Besides, I saw the whole thing myself. Laser and Abbott took her and shoved her into a limo on Trauma.

"Woke Up This Morning" suddenly hits and the crowd goes nuts again.

TETE: Uh oh. Sounds like Laser's coming out to respond to these very serious charges Malice has levelled against him.

FLOYD: It obviously wasn't Laser. Couldn't have been. He didn't need Cabrera not to train. He could have beaten him on his own. In fact, I bet it was Cabrera himself! Or Roman! Could have been either one!

Laser appears at the top of the ramp. He's not in wrestling gear, just his usual Armani suit. He does have a mic in his hand, and he's about to use it.

LASER: This is absolutely absurd! I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a kidnapper!

Malice is conspicuously silent at this.

LASER: Come on, Malice! I didn't even know you had a sister, how could I kidnap her?

C-CUBE: It was a daring ploy, Laser, and I apologize for ruining youor plan. But I had to do what I had to do.

LASER: And you, you lying nutcase! Me and Abbott didn't take that girl anywhere! I don't care what you said you saw, I am innocent!

MALICE: That's not what Spite says.

TETE: Uh oh.

MALICE: Spite says it was you, Rico. And I'm a lot more inclined to believe my sister than a washed-up statutory rapist and deadbeat dad ... so I'm afraid I'll have to insist that you come out of retirement again for tonight ... because I'm gonna hand you your ass.

The crowd pops.

TETE: Oh my! Malice really wants to take it to Laser tonight!

FLOYD: Well, let's see what the bosses say.

The Founding Five confer in a huddle for a moment, then come out, and Brandon Schmidt has the mic.

SCHMIDT: I think this can be arranged.

The crowd pops.

SCHMIDT: A Fatal Fourway for the USXWF title. Malice, Rico Laser, Steve Roman, and C-Cube. Sorry, Rico, but we think Malice's sister is telling the truth, and besides, none of us like you very much.

A big laugh and cheer from the crowd.

SCHMIDT: But that's not all. This one's going to be a Hell in a Cell match.

A HUGE explosion from the crowd at this announcement, and Poppa Tete is practically having an orgasm.

TETE: Oh my Lord! This is a pay-per-view caliber main event! The four best in USXWF meeting in a Hell in a Cell match for the title!

FLOYD: Poppa, calm down. Take your meds.

Malice is smiling. Roman looks grim, but determined. C-Cube, too, has a slight smile on his face. Laser is the only one who looks utterly devastated.

MALICE: I'll see you in the cell, Laser Show. Say your prayers.

Malice disappears back into the crowd as the mob on stage and in the ring depletes.

TETE: What a night! Looks like some grudges are definitely gonna get settled tonight!

FLOYD: Did you notice, Poppa? Steve Roman didn't say a word about James Sharp's affiliation with Dirty Deeds.

TETE: That's true. Maybe there isn't one.

FLOYD: There has to be! I'm a journalist, Poppa. I've got a big hunch about this.

TETE: Then go hunt down some clues or something and let me call the show.

FLOYD: Well, we've got some time coming up for me to do just that.

TETE: What?

FLOYD: Commercial.

TETE: Oh, of course. We'll be right back.

COMMERCIAL FOR BLOOD & GOLD. THE COMMERCIAL FOCUSES MAINLY ON THE SERVANTS OF SHIVA AND STEVE ROMAN, DIRTY DEEDS, AND JAMES SHARP. THERE ARE ALSO SEVERAL SHOTS OF MALICE AND RICO LASER.

We come back to the USXWF commisary. It's deserted, as most of the superstars have gone to their dressing rooms to prepare for their matches. Deserted, that is, except for a long occupant sitting in the farthest corner. The USXWF's newest interviewer, Rayella Hyde, appears in view.

RAYELLA: Um, yeah, hi? Yeah, we're good. Hi, Rayella Hyde here. I'm going to try to interview the Court Jester... that's him, over there... about him losing both the tag-team belts, and his tag-team, all at once.

She walks over to the lone occupant, where it's discovered that the Jester is scribbling furiously in a notebook, occasionally mumbling and chuckling to himself. Rayella seats herself across from him.

RAYELLA: Mr. Jester. ::pause, no answer:: Mr. Jester! ::another pause. No answer:: Jester!

The Jester glances up, startled.

JESTER: What, what, and what?

RAYELLA: I wanted to ask you how you... ::the Jester holds up his hand, silencing her::

JESTER: You want to ask me a question?

RAYELLA: Yes.

JESTER: YOU want to ask ME a question?

RAYELLA: I just said that, yes.

JESTER: YOU want to ask ME a QUESTION?!?

RAYELLA: Yes, you damn fool, yes!

JESTER: Well, go ahead, girlie, I haven't got all day!

RAYELLA: I wanted to ask you how you feel about the events that transpired after Hostile Takeover.

JESTER: What events would that be? Al Gore dropping in the polls behind Dubya? Palestinian claims of declaring an independent country? The mysterious 8-point drop in USXWF stock? Be more specific, girlie!

RAYELLA (annoyed): You losing the tag-team belts and parting ways with Mike the Chicken Eater.

The Jester pauses and turns away, his bemused expression becoming an exaggerated parody of a frown.

JESTER: I don't know anyone named Mike.

RAYELLA: Well, what about losing the belts? How do you feel about that?

The Jester slams his hands on the table and leans in close, pressing his nose against Rayella's. A demented grin adorns his face again. When he speaks, a rasp is in his voice.

JESTER: Listen up, girlie. There're a bunch of brain-dead gerbil-felching morons begging for a joke or two to be played on them. I'm a patient clown, girlie, but not a patient man. But just so you know... I'm not resting on my laurels, girlie, I'm not...

Rayella interupts the Jester by back-handing him across the face. He jerks backward, holding his cheek.

RAYELLA: You're gonna call me Miss Hyde.

The Jester stares at her for a few moments, then grins again.

JESTER: All-righty-dighty... Miss Hyde. ::He tears out a piece of paper from his notepad:: I guess this is what your pretty lil' self wants... or is going to want, anyway.

He slams the paper down on the table before her, then jumps up and leaves the room. Rayella picks up the paper, and the camera moves over to look at it. It's a (rather well-done) drawing of six chickens... two of them are dressed in suits and have halos above their heads, one of them is very big and round and chubby, another is slumped over, it's beak opened wide in an approximation of a shout, another is dressed in baggy, coarse pants and sandals... and the last... is female...

COMMERCIAL