| The camera pans back in to the arena and focuses
on Papa Tete and Floyd. Behind them such signs as "Sorry I missed the Honeymoon,
Sarah!" and "This man sucks!" with an arrow pointing down to Floyd can be
seen. TETE: And we're back from commercial. Up next we have a match between Marty Hart
and Jimmy Steele.
FLOYD: My only question is "Why?"
TETE: ...What?
FLOYD: Why a match between two people who seemingly can't seem to stop sucking? I mean,
come on! Marty Hart has lost every match he's been in since Delirium and seems inept at
using his own panes of glass and Jimmy Steele continues to get beat up by Fate and or
Harbinger!
TETE: Don't forget that Steele won with Harbinger on Warbash last weekend, Floyd. If I
remember, both Avron Longarm and Fate needed help leaving the ring that night.
FLOYD: Oh please, yeah he won, but Harbinger took him out as well. If these two get in
the ring, it'll be two beings of equal suckage hitting each other. We'll need to call
someone else into the ring just so that a loser can be declared because both of them can't
lose at once!
TETE: How did you ever become an announcer, Floyd?
FLOYD: If you bribe the right people, you can get anywhere.
TETE: This explains a lot. Anyway, now to the match.
"Walk This Way" by Aerosmith comes up through the speakers and the audience
begins to boo. Marty Hart begins walking down the ramp, cursing and scowling at the
audience as the boos change into a "Glassman sucks" chant, over and over. He
climbs into the ring and he flips off the crowd before grabbing a mic from a stagehand.
HART: Yeah, yeah, yeah, f[bleep] all of you too! You know, I really am beginning to
hate it here. Every match I'm in I get trashed. I mean, back in September, that mutant ape
Mask ::the crowd pops at the Mask's name:: landed me on a pile of my own glass that put me
out for nearly a month. Then that masked maniac Malice ::even larger pop for Malice's
name:: kicks the crap out of me when he thinks I knew who stole his sister. If there's
anyone in this moronic federation he should kick the s[bleep] out of it's the Court
Jester. I mean, the guy knows who did it! And Malice is just content to go around stomping
the hell out of people, getting drunk everynight on a bottle of JB, when he could just go
to the Jester, beat the living s[bleep] out of him and find out for sure?! That's
ridiculous!
TETE: Hart seems genuinely upset about his stay in the USXWF. Maybe he's right about
some of his points.
FLOYD: Wah wah wah, why doesn't he go cry about it some more, big babby.
TETE: Oh come on, Floyd, how would you feel if you landed on a pile of jagged, broken
glass.
FLOYD: Would it be like landing on my Man-in-a-Can collection?
TETE: I don't want to know, I don't want to know....
Marty Hart begins to pace around the ring as his tirade continues, the chanting of
"Glassman sucks!" rising in volume and pitch.
HART: I mean, I'm the Glassman! I'm Marty Hart, one of the Hart family! I deserve
better than this! I deserve a rematch! I deserve a title shot! I deserve-
"Testify" by Rage Against the Machine roars out of the speakers as the crowd
pops enthusiastically. Jimmy Steele walks out from under the Abbottron, mic in hand. He
glares down at the ring, ignoring the audience and raises the mic to his lips.
STEELE: Hart, what you deserve is a good boot to the face to shut you up.
The crowd pops louder as Hart throws the mic down in outrage and runs up to the ropes.
STEELE: See, lately, I too have gotten my ass handed to me on more than one occassion,
usually either by Longarm, Fate, or that stupid, backstabing nut Harbinger ::crowd pops at
the names:: but does anyone see me come out here and complain? No. With Survival of the
Fittest coming I want to be at my best, so I train harder and harder, just using the anger
from these past matches to get me going.
TETE: Good strategy and a better use for his anger.
FLOYD: Please, he's just giving himself excuses for being such a loser.
TETE: Floyd, again, aren't you ever afraid a wrestler will see a tape of one of these
shows?
FLOYD: A Hermesol knows no fear, Papa.
TETE: "An idiot knows no fear" sounds more accurate it.
Steele tosses the mic down and sprints down to the ring before diving under the ropes
and dropping Hart at the same time with a modified spear. Both wrestlers roll around on
the ground for a while, both getting equal time on top trading blows with each other until
finally Marty Hart is on top.
With multiple shots to the face, Hart stuns Steele and then stands him up before
whipping him into the corner chest first. As Steele stumbles backwards, Hart comes up
behind him and get's him in a belly-to-belly suplex that sends Steele across the ring.
Running over to his fallen opponent, Hart begins to stamp down on Steele. After taking
several kicks to the back and ribs, Steele manages to grab Hart's foot and jerk him off
balance, causing him to fall to the mat. Quickly getting up, Steele manages to land a leg
drop across Hart's chest. As he get's up and tries for another, Hart rolls out of the way
and Steele lands hard on his leg and backside, his face contorting with a grimace of pain.
He manages to look up in time just as Hart does a double-foot drop kick to Steele's face,
laying the other man out. With a grin, Hart raises both hands to the crowd before climbing
out of the ring and scrambling for something under the mat.
When he comes back up, he triumphantly lifts one of his many panes of glass into the
air above his head and begins shouting at the crowd. Unknown to him, Steele slowly begins
crawling to his feet with a snarl of anger. Still not watching the mat, Hart climbs onto
the side of the ring, still yelling at the crowd which is enthusiastically yelling back.
At this point, Steele has climbed up on the opposite turnbuckle and is anxiously waiting
for his opponent to climb into the ring, his face showing just how angry he is as a mask
of hate twists his visage. He climbs into the ring, still not having seen his opponent,
and turns to face Steele. As he raises the pane of glass to bring it down on Steele's
head, he realizes that Steele is no longer on the ground and instead receives his own pane
of glass across the face as Steele hits him for a falling splash from the top turnbuckle.
Landing on top of Marty Hart, Steele is spread out and the ref quickly counts
1...2....3 and raises Steele's hand in victory as Marty Hart lays on the ground bleeding.
COMMERCIAL
"Superbeast" hits to a decent pop from the crowd, the arena going completely
black. As strobe lights flicker to life, the Gatekeeper walks out, his arms upraised, as
the Harbinger stalks out of the back, his face filled with confidence and determination,
his clenched teeth betraying just a hint of anger. They walk forward, huge orange pyros
erupting from the top and bottom of the ramp. The Harbinger stalks up the steel steps,
strobes flickering still, and climbs into the ring, while the Gatekeeper waits at the
bottom, his hands clasped in front of him. Standing in the middle of the ring, the
Harbinger raises his arms, gazing out over the crowd.
TETE: Harbinger, looking like he's pretty determined to take that title from Valentine
tonight.
FLOYD: Actually, I think all that thinking about the coming doom of humanity scared him
into constipation.
The lights come up, and almost immediately, "You Give Love A Bad Name" flows up
through the speakers. Trent Valentine struts his way to the ring, bowing slightly and
smiling as he hands a rose to a woman's outreached hand. At the steel steps, he pauses to
shoot a condescending look at the Gatekeeper, and, his eyes unmoving, takes the
Intercontinental Belt off his shoulder and hands it to a referee. Trent climbs up on the
turnbuckle, tosses his red hat into the audience, and hops down, facing off against the
Harbinger. Their gazes lock, Harbinger cold and tight-lipped, Valentine warm and smirking,
but both very clearly certain that they'll be the one standing come the end of the match.
Both men look up at the ramp as the arena once again goes dark. A churchbell tolls once,
and "For Whom The Bell Tolls" rolls into the arena, the crowd going nuts, pumped
up by the famous Metallica song. A spotlight hits the entryway, and Fate stomps
double-time down to the ring, his trail of pyros barely staying ahead of him. He leaps
into the ring, bows his head and raises his arms for a moment under the spotlight, then
stares with pure hate over at Harbinger. As the light comes up, he raises his head, giving
a mute snarl, hurls himself at Harbinger, the men beginning to grapple. The referee calls
for the bell.
TETE: The match is on, and Fate and the Harbinger are already tangled up...those two
really hate each other.
FLOYD: Oh, it's all a misunderstanding.
TETE: A mis...Floyd, Reverend Spank is still in a coma from the piledriver the Harbinger
gave him!!!
FLOYD: Well, if somebody would have just given him a hug, instead of turning him into a
minon of the Apocalypse...
While this exchange goes on, the Harbinger manages to get out of the grappling, and begins
immediately to fire off a series of rights into Fate's face. Fate moves backward, slowly,
then blocks a punch and nails Harbinger in the gut with his boot, doubling the Harbinger
over. The camera cuts to Valentine for a moment, watching intently his foes grappling with
each other.
Fate continues a series of kicks, then whips Harbinger into the ropes and goes for a
clothesline. Harbinger ducks it, spins around and grabs Fate arm, hitting him with a short
arm clothesline. Fate stumbles backward, and rather than let him regain his balance, the
Harbinger presses his advantage, balling his fists together and slamming them into Fate's
upper gut. As Fate doubles over, Harbinger grabs him and puts him in a fireman's carry.
Looking over his shoulder at him, the Harbinger bends his knees slightly, throws Fate's
legs over his shoulder, and executes a brutal fireman's carry DDT. Fate bounces slightly,
flipping over onto his back and squirming a little. The camera cuts again to Valentine,
this time cringing, fear crossing his eyes for a brief moment.
TETE: A brutal fireman's carry DDT, stunning Fate. Looks like this match could be over
before Valentine even gets involved...
FLOYD: I'm sure Valentine doesn't mind-it gives him more time to practice his pansy face.
TETE: I swear, Floyd, some day you're going to get more than candy upside the head...
The Harbinger picks up Fate by the throat, and stares him straight in the eye. Fate
punches him in the chest, and Harbinger grabs the arm on return, whipping Fate into the
turnbuckle. Fate leans there for a moment, slowly regaining balance.
Harbinger steps back, cocking back his right arm and bouncing off the ropes at an angle,
all the while never looking away from Fate.
TETE: A Hand of Glory into the turnbuckle?!
Harbinger charges forward, and suddenly, out of nowhere comes Valentine, doing a full-body
splash and sending Harbinger sprawling!
TETE: Oh, interruption from Valentine!
FLOYD: You owe me a Coke!
Valentine practically leaps on top of Harbinger, punching him in the face repeatedly, and
tries to grab a pinfall. The ref only gets one count, and Fate grabs Valentine, dragging
him off the Harbinger.
FLOYD: What a nice gesture, saving the Harbinger like that!
TETE: It's just so Fate can brutalize him some more.
FLOYD: You have no faith in the innate goodness of humanity.
Fate holds Valentine up above his head, opens his mouth as if to shout, and flap-jacks the
smaller man into the midsection of the recovering Harbinger. Harbinger rolls Valentine off
of him almost as an aside, and pops to his feet, planting his foot in Fate's chest. Fate
bounces off the ropes a little, right into Harbinger's fist. Harbinger hits him a second
time, a third time, then his hands lash out, grasping around Fate's throat. He hauls Fate
up into the air...the crowd pops as it recognizes the beginning of the Ninth Gate.
Valentine charges in, doing a dropkick into Harbinger's back, causing him to drop Fate.
Fate lands standing, and immediately plants both his hands on the back of Harbinger's head
and slams him face-first to the mat in a quasi-bulldog maneuver, then advances on
Valentine, looking more than a little upset. Valentine looks up at his huge opponent,
kicks him in the groin, then issues a spinning heel kick to his now-bowed head. Fate jerks
his head back up, and rather than pain, exhibits only annoyance. Nodding as if to say
"that's it", he grabs Valentine by the hair and left arm, slams him into the
ropes, and tosses him toward the now-standing, very annoyed Harbinger.
Harbinger grabs Valentine, whose shocked expression grows even more horrified as
Harbinger snarls and flap jacks him over his head, over the ropes, and out of the ring!
The camera cuts to ringside for a moment, to observe Valentine groggily getting to his
feet, nearly falling completely back down a few times.
TETE: Looks like Harbinger and Fate don't want Valentine getting in the way.
FLOYD: I think someone needs to learn to share.
Both looking satisfied, the Harbinger strides toward Fate, who lands a big boot to the
side of his head. Harbinger takes it, and comes back with a punch, an elbow shot, and a
backhanded punch. Fate looks a little shaky, but thinking quick, fakes for a chokeslam
with his left hand, and then shoots out with his right and nails Harbinger with the Hand
of Fate.
TETE: Oo, they're pulling out all the stops tonight...with endurance like these guys, it
could take forever to put them down for the count!
FLOYD: Perhaps Trent might want to invest in construction equipment if he likes that belt
so much...
As Harbinger gets up, beginning to show signs of being shaky even moreso than his
opponent, Fate runs over to the ropes, and bounces off, barreling toward Harbinger with an
arm outstretched for a running clothesline. Harbinger stands his ground, and quickly
catches Fate in a chokeslam on the way over, shaking the ring as he tosses Fate's bulk to
the mat.
TETE: These two are spending more time horizontal than vertical...where are they getting
this immense strength?
FLOYD: I smell a Wheaties endorsement.
Fate pops up and gives Harbinger a low blow, at which he cringes and falls over. The
camera switches...Valentine has gotten up, and is seething, glaring at both Fate and the
Harbinger. The camera pops back to the ring to see Fate hammering Harbinger into the
corner. Harbinger sags a little under the pressure, and Fate flips him over and
administers a piledriver. He backs away from Harbinger's slowly moving form, and stares,
flexing his fingers. He starts to lean into the ropes, and is suddenly dragged backward,
falling flat on his face and sliding out of the ring, thanks to Trent Valentine.
Valentine pushes himself up into the ring as he tosses Fate down to the floor. He runs
over to Harbinger and nails an elbow drop on him, then runs over to Fate, who is climbing
back into the ring, and baseball slides him, knocking the big man back into the barricade.
TETE: This does not look good...Trent has a lot more energy in reserve than the others.
FLOYD: And a PowerAde endorsement...
Fate and Valentine begin tearing into one another, throwing flurries of punches. Fate's a
hitting harder, but the monster is clearly groggy, moving erratically, his punches
halfhearted.
In the ring, the Harbinger gets up slowly, rising carefully, and when he views the scene,
he is utterly furious. He stomps over to the side of the ring, and reaching through the
ropes, grabs Fate by the chin, dragging him quite painfully up into the ring. Valentine
begins to climb in, and the Harbinger kicks him hard in the face, knocking him back to the
floor.
In the ring, the Harbinger picks Fate up onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry yet
again, and, despite a punch to the chest from the robed one, nails him with a Samoan drop.
Not letting go, Harbinger hauls himself and Fate back up, and lands another one. Picking
him up once again, Harbinger gets upright, roars "for the darkness!", and lands
a brainbuster DDT that makes both men bounce.
TETE: Sweet Moses, Harbinger may have knocked Fate unconscious...the man isn't moving!
FLOYD: And a Soloflex-
TETE: Shut up, Floyd.
As Harbinger gets up from his brutal maneuver, Trent reaches him, leaping up for a leg
scissor that knocks the Harbinger back onto Fate, negating what little progress Fate had
made toward getting up. Harbinger throat tosses Valentine away from him, and charges
forward. Valentine runs backward, grinning, the Harbinger following his lead, until
suddenly Harbinger stops and Trent, using the Harbinger's momentum against him, gets the
Fifth Horseman with a tornado DDT! Harbinger is sprawled out, allowing Trent to hit him
with an elbow drop followed by a forearm smash.
TETE: A nasty trick from Valentine-not even the Harbinger can take much more of this!
Trent moves backward, stretching a little, and comes to Harbinger as he's halfway up.
Harbinger tries for a punch, and Trent moves in and, wraps his arms around Harbinger from
behind, gets his thumb in the belt loop of Harbinger's leather pants...and lands the
Heartbreak. Harbinger exhales heavily as he connects, and Valentine quickly covers him.
The ref dashes into the ring, counting 1...2...3. Valentine retains the title. His hat
comes sailing back to him, and he puts it on, strutting out of the ring, slinging the belt
over his shoulder as he goes.
Fate, now to his feet, steps over Harbinger and looks down, grinning with evil
satisfaction. He points at the Harbinger, the same way he had at Jimmy Steele last
Warbash, and smiles even more widely. Smirking, Fate climbs out of the ring as Harbinger
rises slowly to his feet.
TETE: Valentine retains the IC title...looks like Fate and Harbinger's feud cost them the
belt. I'm sure Harbinger won't be happy about that come Blood & Gold.
FLOYD: Aw, that's no big thing... Harbinger's NEVER happy...
TETE: I'm not sure if I agree with you or not, Floyd, but we've got to go to commercial
break!
COMMERCIAL
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