We open on a shot of the exterior
of the Joe Louis Arena in Detroit, Michigan, and the sound of Poppa Tete’s voice.
TETE: Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the biggest and craziest show on earth, Tuesday
Night Trauma, and tonight we are going to have one hellacious show, I can feel it already,
Floyd!
We cut to the inside of the Joe Louis Arena, and thousands of fans are on their feet
cheering wildly, some with signs they hope will be caught on TV and broadcast to all their
friends who weren’t lucky enough to get tickets.
JAMES SHARP... A TAD TOO HYPER!
RADIO HOUR 4EVR!
DINO NEEDS RITALIN
RICO LASER SNIFFS GLUE
FLOYD HERMESOL IS MY DADDY!
SERVANTS OF SHIVA=JEHOVAH'S WITNESSES!
We cut back to Floyd Hermesol and Poppa Tete, both sitting behind the announce table.
TETE: What a Weekend Warbash we had on Friday!
FLOYD: Boy, I’ll say! The two warring stables in this company both gained some ground
- and new members!
TETE: That’s right. Greg Tibbs joined up rather unexpectedly with the Roman Empire
and Scott Raye made a brutal heel turn against his own former tag partner and mentor, the
Lineman!
FLOYD: Yeah, shame that. But I wonder who Raye is better off with.
TETE: Wat do you mean?
FLOYD: Well, look at this organization, Poppa! It’s so fraught with interference and
nepotism and people willing to do anything to get what they want, even more so than the
WWF! And if Scott Raye is with the Servants of Shiva, he’s a lot safer than he’d
be with the Lineman! Four heads are better than two!
TETE: What kind of mentality is that? The Servants of Shiva have proven to be a part of
the problem, not the solution!
FLOYD: Oh please, the Roman Empire started it.
TETE: That’s certainly debatable, Floyd.
FLOYD: No it isn’t, my word is law!
TETE: Floyd … Walter McGeegan doesn’t exist, remember? So he couldn’t win
the election?
FLOYD (dejected): Oh. Oh, yeah.
"Fuck ‘em and Their Law" hits to what is quite possibly the loudest heel
heat ever received on a Trauma. C-Cube and the Servants of Shiva, now including Scott
Raye, make their way down the ramp and into the ring. Raye’s head is now shaved and
he now wears the same attire as the others, sandals and all. His expression is serene,
like C-Cube’s, and somewhat creepy. His eyes seem dead.
TETE: Listen to the boos for possibly the most hated organization in wrestling history!
FLOYD: Who do you think would win a popularity contest between these guys and Right to
Censor?
TETE: I think Steven Richards would spend days polishing his trophy.
C-Cube is handed a mic by the ring announcer.
C-CUBE: At last, the Servants of Shiva have found the last piece of the cosmic puzzle and
snapped it into place. At last, my best students have banded together, that they might
teach the heathens here, that they might show them the way out of their cavern of
arrogance. My joy is only limited by the fact that Steve Roman-
Crowd pops.
C-CUBE: -remains untaught, and seems to have no willingness to learn. But I, like so many
other great teachers, refuse to give up on him. At one time I was prepared to let my most
errant pupil go his own blasphemous way, but no longer. The latest addition to my flock
has convinced me that to leave even one student behind would be a sin ... and I realized
that he is right, without question. So Steve Roman, I hereby challenge you to a match at
Blood & Gold. I shall put my belt on the line if that is what you need as inspiration
to learn. I await your answer. If I do not get one, then rest assured that I and my
brethren will seek you out to deliver the invitation personally.
C-Cube leans back against the ropes and waits for Roman.
TETE: A challenge for Blood & Gold!
FLOYD: Ha! You think Roman's going to answer it? After last Friday, Roman's going to want
to stay as far from C-Cube as possible.
"Black is Black" hits to an immense pop from the crowd and Diego Cabrera comes
out with a mic in his hand. C-Cube is clearly surprised.
TETE: I don't think this music is the music C-Cube wanted to hear.
FLOYD: Well, when the CEO speaks, everyone listens.
C-Cube starts to say something, but Cabrera shakes his finger at him.
CABRERA: Kamzoil, do yourself a favor for once and keep your mouth shut.
The crowd pops.
C-CUBE: Fine, but I do not use that name anymore. Please have the respect to use the name
I prefer.
CABRERA: What's that? God? The only person on this planet with a bigger Messiah complex
than you is Elvis Presley.
TETE: Isn't Elvis Presley dead?
FLOYD: Ha! So YOU say.
CABRERA: Anyway, I'm not out here tonight to talk about your severe psychological hangups
or about celebrities who faked their deaths. No, I'm here to talk about Blood & Gold.
Mr. Kamzoil here jumped the gun a bit. Counted his chickens before they were hatched.
Amigo, don't you know it's MY job to come out and announce the card for the pay-per-views,
and it is also MY job to make the matches for? You're treading on my turf now, and I don't
appreciate it.
C-CUBE: Very well. I'm certain you've placed me in a match with Steve Roman anyway, so get
on with it.
CABRERA: Not exactly. You see, I loved the Big Bald Bitch's idea for a match against the
Brothers Hand ... you know, the Southtown Streetfight? I liked it so much, in fact, that I
combined it with my original idea for the main event at Blood & Gold, which was going
to be a stable war between your boys and Steve Roman's. So what I came up with is this:
We're going to put all ten of you, the Servants of Shiva and the Roman Empire, inside a
ten-foot steel cage...
The crowd pops.
TETE: A steel cage?!
CABRERA: Then we're gonna put a Hell in a Cell ... you know, just like the one you guys
wrecked a few weeks ago at Trauma ... around that steel cage.
The crowd pops even louder this time.
TETE: My God! A steel cage within a Hell in a Cell!?
CABRERA: And then we're gonna hang both the tag team titles and the USXWF title from the
rafters of Madison Square Garden in New York City, which is where the pay-per-view will be
held ... any team member that can get hold of any ONE of the belts wins all three belts
for his team.
The crowd has been popping like mad throughout Cabrera's speech, and shows no signs opf
stopping.
TETE: I've never heard of anything like this in my life!
CABRERA: Oh, and just to level out the playing field, we're going to scatter all kinds of
goodies throughout the ring, just like the Bitch suggested last week. Barbed-wire bats,
tables, chairs ... we'll even have a gasoline can in there just in case there's one or two
of you with a pyromaniac bent.
The crowd explodes at this last announcement. Poppa Tete sounds like he's had a stroke.
TETE: Oh my God ... someone's going to die in there.
Cabrera is grinning as the Servants of Shiva scowl at him.
CABRERA; Didn't like that too much, huh? Well, tell me what you think of the rest. First
of all, Crazy Mac will be facing an opponent to be named at showtime. Candyman's going to
be facing Crazy Mac for the right to a Deathmatch title shot on the following Warbash.
Those two new guys, the Gentlemen or whatever, will get their first taste of action
against Odium and Angst. Avron LongArm is going to give Jimmy Steele a shot at the
European title. Fate and the Harbinger will finally settle their feud in a flaming
scaffold match. Only way to win: toss your opponent off of a twenty-foot scaffold that
will catch fire after two minutes. He can't fall, mind you. You have to push him. Then there's my personal favorite: the "I Quit" match for the IC title
between La Parka and Trent Valentine. By the way, if La Parka loses, he has to get rid of
that crappy music of his. Malice will be trying to settle things with Rico Laser in a
match he requested personally: a typhoon match. Details on that are forthcoming. And then,
of course, our main event, a Southtown Streetfight for, as the Founding Five put it,
"all the marbles". Have fun, kids. That's all from me for now.
Cabrera starts to leave, then turns around.
CABRERA: Oh, yeah ... C-Cube, you and Scott Raye are dealing with the Greg Tibbs and Steve
Roman tonight. They're both pretty angry, so I hope you're ready for action. And I thought
it'd be appropriate to have someone involved in this little tangled web officiate, so the
Lineman's going to be the special referee. Good luck, folks.
TETE: My God! What a card!
FLOYD: Are you talking about tonight or Blood & Gold?
TETE: Both! Good Lord, I didn't know it was legal to put so many stipulations in one
pay-per-view!
FLOYD: Or one match! Think about La Parka and Trent Valentine! There's a lot of
"ifs" in there!
TETE: And what, in the name of all that's holy, is a typhoon match?
FLOYD: Guess we'll find out. Commercial time.
TETE: We'll be back after a word from our sponsors, folks!
COMMERCIAL FOR BLOOD & GOLD
The view pops back up just as the distinctive music of Angst comes searing over the arena,
Angst himself coming into view under the Abbotron. He tosses back a token slug of coffee,
then chucks the empty cup over his shoulder and walks down to the ring, looking vaguely
despondent.
FLOYD: Well, at least he lives up to his nickname...
TETE: ...What?
FLOYD: Angst! C'mon, Papa, this guy looks like every pimply teenage poet I've ever seen.
TETE: I swear, Floyd, some night soon, the wrestlers are all gonna get together and lynch
you.
Floyd's response is cut off by Aqua's "Lollipop" picking up as the lights go
dimmed. Mr. Mint stands silhouetted in bright light below the Abbotron, and takes a few
running steps forward, tossing candy to the crowd before pivoting and holding an arm back
towards the entrance. Candyman steps out, arms wide in a sudden flare of twisting
spotlights, and basks in the crowd's huge pop for a moment before making his way down to
the ring, Mr Mint preceding. Angst, already in the ring, looks somewhere between disgusted
and bored.
TETE: Well, this matchup should be interesting.
FLOYD: Whaddaya mean? We've got the preening, pansy-assed, pretty boy fighting the mall
goth! Maybe I'll just sleep this one out...
Candyman shoots the announcers a grin as he hops into the ring and offers Angst a
handshake. Angst looks at the hand balefully for a moment, and then steps back into his
corner, shucking off his coat and letting it fall. Candyman shrugs and leans against the
ropes with a smile.
The bell rings, and Angst is suddenly alive, leaping across the ring in a blur of speed
and kicking the unwary Candyman in the gut. Candyman doubles over with a look of
disbelief, and Angst takes the opportunity to heel drop him across the back, splaying
Candyman flat out on his stomach. Angst takes to the turnbuckle, almost running up it, and
flips off the top to come crashing down in a splash... right where Candyman just rolled
out of the way!
Angst bounces and curls into himself in pain, as Candyman, shaking his
head ruefully, hauls Angst up by the hair and tucks him into a rolling German suplex.
Candyman runs for the ropes, bounces off, and lands a flying elbow drop, hopping up almost
immediately and running for the ropes again. Candyman bounces off and flips into a
heeldrop, but Angst moves at the last second! Candyman lands hard on his leg, and writhes
as Angst hops up, runs in a quick circle to build speed, and crossbody pins Candyman down.
The ref manages only a onecount before Candyman kicks out.
TETE: That legdrop had to hurt, with the leg beating Candyman took last Warbash!
FLOYD: ... Oh, what was that, Papa? I wasn't paying attention.
TETE: You're being PAID to pay attention, you dunce!
FLOYD: I don't care! I never get any candy! I mean... umm... I'm not interested...
Meanwhile, Angst is rifling jabs into Candyman's gut, pummeling him until he staggers back
into the ropes. Angst leaps at him, clotheslining him right over the ropes, and slips
nimbly out after him. Candyman's reeling, and Angst takes advantage to grab his long hair
and smack his head into the steel railing once... twice... three times! Scowling, Angst
gives him a swift kick, then slides back into the ring, hops up onto the turnbuckle and
starts railing at the crowd.
FLOYD: What does this guy think he's doing? Doesn't he know only cool people can do stuff
like that?
Candyman gets up, shakes the dizziness out of his head, and notes the position of Angst.
Grinning like a maniac, he slips silently into the ring, sneaks across, and grabs Angst by
his beltline, putting his whole body into it and hurling the smaller man halfway across
the ring! Angst lands hard, dazed, and Candyman steps up the turnbuckle, pauses a moment
for drama, and leaps into a moonsault that almost crushes Angst!
Candyman rols Angst into a pin, and the ref gets to a twocount before Angst pries his
shoulder up. Candyman rises and looks like he's going for the turnbuckle again, but Angst
lashes out and trips him up with both feet, rolling nimbly, if painfully, to his feet, and
immediately throwing a legdrop on Candyman. Candyman amazingly staggers up at almost the
same time as Angst, and with a snarl, Angst deals him a double kick which propels him into
the ropes! Angst is setting up for something nasty, and as Candyman bounces back, Angst
leaps into the air, flipping completely forward, and wraps his legs around Candyman's
head... but as he starts to flip back and complete the frankensteiner, Candyman somehow
twists to the side and around him, flinging Angst hard down to the mat... and then tumbles
down himself, dazed.
FLOYD: WHAT WAS THAT? How the hell did the sugar-tosser pull that off?
TETE: He calls it the Sour Twist... it certainly seems to have twisted Angst in knots!
Anyway, I thought you weren't paying attention.
FLOYD: Oh, I.... uh... gah... I saw it out of the corner of my eye! Yes! Just barely even
registered...
TETE: Oh, god, look at this!
Both men have clambered to their feet, and both head for opposite turnbuckles, seeming to
think their opponent is still down! Angst scurries up his, and pauses against dizziness,
while Candyman climbs slowly, shaking his head clear. They both turn... and stare at each
other across the ring. Angst looks like he's swearing violently, while Candyman is
laughing full-out. The standoff continues, a ref looking on anxiously, until finally
Candyman leaps down and rushes Angst!
TETE: ...There's the opening!
FLOYD: ::At the same time:: Do it, goth-boy!
Angst takes the opening with flair, throwing himself into what looks like a flying knee
drop right at the charging Candyman... who rolls nimbly out of the way, sending Angst into
the mat with crippling force!
TETE: He bluffed! I don't believe it...
Candyman, with a laugh of triumph races his way up the turnbuckle that Angst just vacated.
he pauses for a moment to open his arms to the crowd, and a huge pop precedes him leaping
into the Lemon Drop; a backflip into a full splash. Angst is rocked by Candyman's
finisher, and the latter hooks the leg and pins Angst with flair... 1... 2... 3!
The ref raises Candyman's arm, and the crowd lets loose after the great match, roaring
their approval. Candyman slips out of the ring after helping the dazed Angst to his feet,a
nd he picks Mr. Mint up, setting the smaller old man on his shoulders to the crowd's
approval. Mr Mint whispers something to Candyman, and they head for the announcer's table.
TETE: What's this...?
Candyman grins at the pair of announcers, and points upward. Floyd looks up just as Mr.
Mint whips off his tophat, taps the empty hat with his cane, and upends a rain of various
candies onto Floyd's head. Candyman laughs, and leaps the railing with Mr. Mint, striding
towards the ramp through the cheering audience.
FLOYD: (Spluttering) I... I... The nerve! To think that they'd do something like that to
me, I don't even...
TETE: I'll be damned, Floyd. You're happy.
FLOYD: I am not! I'm angry! ... Now help me pocket all these sweets...
TETE: And all it means is that he can be bribed...
As Candyman reaches the top of the ramp, a giant banner is unfurled in front of the exit.
The banner reads: COME TRAUMA, YOU WILL FEEL THIS DOG'S BITE. What appears to be a dead
rat has been stapled to the banner.
Candyman grimly walks into the back.
TETE: A warning from Dino Fischetti, no doubt.
FLOYD: Well, yeah, of course. Ugh. A dead rat.
TETE: Eat your candy, Floyd.
FLOYD: I'm not so hungry anymore.
TETE: Oh! I'm told we have an interview backstage with Steve Roman and the Roman Empire!
We cut to the backstage area, where R.F. Quenton is standing with Steve Roman, Greg Tibbs,
Dino Fischetti, Big Bald Bitch, and James Sharp, all of whom wear the same wraparound
sunglasses and leather jackets.
QUENTON: Steve Roman, how do you and your team respond to the match signed for you guys at
Blood & Gold?
ROMAN: It's exactly the kind of thing we were hoping for. We all trust one another, these
guys and me, and I know they won't let me down next Sunday. They'll help me get my title
back and I'll help them get theirs.
BBB: This is exactly our kind of match, you know. Those sandal-wearing, baldheaded jokes
are going to suffer and suffer bad on the 26th, that's for damn sure.
QUENTON: We were kind of hoping we'd hear from you at the top of the show about your
selection of Greg Tibbs to join the Roman Empire.
ROMAN: Look, Greg's been running with us for some time now backstage. We just asked him to
stay out of our in-ring stuff until the time was right. I had a feeling something like
this was in the air, so I invited him in.
TIBBS: It's cool to be in a group that accepts me as the man that I am, instead of just
another angry black guy. I ain't had many friends in my life ... Lord knows I ain't earned
it. But these boys are okay with me. And anyone that gives my boys trouble is gonna find
it from me, too. So Scott Raye and C-Cube, y'all had better prepare yourselves for one
long, painful night.
QUENTON: Any words of wisdom for the Lineman?
SHARP: Yeah. I got some. Call it down the middle. Or else. You might be tempted to help
out your old buddy Raye, or maybe C-Cube's got you hooked too. We talked it over earlier,
and Roman doesn't think so, but that ain't exactly what you'd call a unanimous vote of
confidence. Just know that if you even look like you're gonna make this any harder than it
has to be, me and Dino ain't gonna be too far off. Right, Dino?
Dino sits in a corner, drinking from a bottle of Jack Daniels. He seems surprised at being
addressed, but nods and points a finger at the camera.
DINO: You heard 'im, Line Man. I got nothin' else to say, so...
ROMAN: Right. Just remember, C-Cube, the foundation of an empire is trust, not fear. The
trust we got. Do you?
QUENTON: Thank you, Steve Roman and company. We'll be back after this.
COMMERCIAL
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