[The arena lights are dimmed as Clawfinger's "Biggest and the Best" begins to play. Strobe lights flash all around the entrance stage and above the ring as Rob Sampson strides out from the back. While walking to the ring, he slaps hands the fans standing along the aisle, pointing out signs that feature his likeness or bear epithets of praise for him.]
DT: If you've ever needed an example of the kind of great talent Empire Pro Wrestling has on its roster, Rob Sampson is it. The man is one of Global X-Treme Wrestling's biggest stars and has an unfathomable amount of talent.
MN: Sampson? If you cut his hair, does he lose his power? Heh!
DT: No, that's Samson with no P.
MN: Psheeeeew. Right over your head.
[CUE UP: "Only Happy When It Rains" - Garbage. The crowd offers a decidedly mixed reaction as Jonathan Marx walks to the ring.]
DT: Speaking of great talent, Jonathan Marx has made quite a splash all over the world lately and recently won FWI Magazine's Rookie of the Year Award!
MN: He's an ignorant prick, that's what he is. Imagine, comparing Sampson to... some Van Damme guy from some bush-league.
DT: We'll see if Marx has adequately prepared for Sampson's offense.
[SFX: *DINGDINGDING* - Bell rings.]
[The two men circle briefly. Marx moves in and goes for a lock-up, smirking. Sampson meets him and immediately executes a go-behind, snagging a tight hammerlock. Marx attempts to reverse it into an arm wringer, but Sampson drops down and pulls both of Marx's legs out from under him, vaulting over to go for an armbar. Marx rolls over to avoid it, and Sampson sits on Marx's back, ruffling his hair playfully before backing off and coming to his feet. Marx gets to a knee and stares at Sampson in frustration; Mr. Main Event grins back.]
DT: Looks like Jonathan Marx got a bit more than he bargained for with that exchange! He was expecting a high-flyer and got some great chain wrestling from Sampson!
MN: The egg's on Jon's face, I tells ya.
[A bit tentatively, Marx moves to lock up again. Sampson seems to reciprocate, but slugs Marx at the last second. The blow surprises Marx and knocks him back a few steps. The Gentleman retaliates with a right of his own, but Sampson catches the arm and pulls Marx into an armdrag. Marx gets up and rushes Sampson, only to eat another armdrag. A third armdrag from Sampson soon follows, and Marx rolls down to the floor to regroup.]
DT: Sampson unloading the tight arm drags! Looks like he's got Marx off balance in the early going.
[Sampson quickly slides down to the floor and takes Marx from behind with a few clubbing blows, staggering him. Grunting, Sampson takes Marx by the arm and Irish-whips him towards the ring stairs. However, Marx quickly reverses, sending Sampson caroming into the steps with an impact that jars them loose!]
MN: Ooh, he's gonna feel that in the morning!
DT: Marx sending Sampson right into that cold, unforgiving steel!
MN: Maybe it's Sampson who's got the omelette-face now.
[Taking a breath, Marx drives a few right hands into Sampson's head, then rolls him back into the ring, following him. Sampson staggers to his feet, and Marx wraps him up to launch him with a rough overhead suplex, swinging over into a pin!]
DT: Marx with the cover off the belly-to-belly! One - two - Kickout by Sampson!
MN: Come on, a belly-to-belly hasn't been a finisher since Gabriel Bane still wrestled for GXW.
[Pulling Sampson off the canvas, Marx whips him into the ropes and throws a clothesline. Sampson ducks it and comes back with his own clothesline, which Marx ducks. As Sampson rebounds, Marx steps forward and pushes him into the air before catching him and slamming him down back-first to the canvas!]
DT: OH! Marx with a big spinebuster!
MN: The kid may be a pretentious jackass, but he's adaptable. He wasn't expecting Sampson to be like he is, but he's hanging in there.
[Holding his back, Sampson gets to his feet. Marx steps in behind him and slams him in the back with a pair of hard forearms, knocking Sampson to his knees. From there, Marx drops an elbow on him to flatten him.]
DT: Marx working on that back of Sampson, trying to keep him down on the canvas.
[As Sampson rolls over, Marx kicks him in the gut and goes for a spinning toe hold; however, Sampson gets his other foot up against Marx's thigh and pushes, knocking the Gentleman down. Sampson immediately rolls to his feet, as does Marx. However, it's Mr. Main Event who scores with the next blow, kicking Marx in the gut before drilling him with an exploder suplex '98!]
DT: EXPLODER by Sampson! What a move!
MN: Marx just got DRILLED! I'm surprised we can't see little birdies circling his head going "Cheep cheep! Cheep cheep!"
[Holding his head, Marx comes to his feet and turns towards Sampson, who immediately snaps him up, hooks a leg, and cracks him with a stiff fisherman's neckbreaker. Immediately, Sampson picks Marx up and follows up with a hangman's neckbreaker, rolling over for a pin.]
DT: Series of neckbreakers by Sampson, and there's a cover! One - two - Oh, Marx got the shoulder up!
MN: Jon's head has got to be spinning right now.
[Sampson punches Marx in the face a few times, then pulls him off the mat, underhooking his arms; however, Marx manages to break free and pull Sampson's legs forward, knocking him onto his back. From there, Marx launches Sampson into the corner with a catapult, bouncing Mr. Main Event's face off a turnbuckle!]
DT: Oh, there's the slingshot by Marx, breaking the double-underhook!
[Taking a second or two to scout the situation, Marx charges into the corner for a running splash; however, Sampson gets a foot up to catch Marx. Sampson promptly moves in and grabs the double-underhook again, taking Marx over with a butterfly suplex. He holds the double-underhook in and delivers another butterfly suplex before seguing into a DDT from the butterfly position!]
DT: What a combo by Sampson! Two butterfly suplexes and a double-arm DDT!
MN: Marx is so dead right now.
DT: Sampson's covering him! One -
TWO -
NO, so close! Marx JUST managed to kick out!
MN: Resilient, ain't he?
[Grabbing Marx by the arm, Sampson jerks him to his feet and boosts him up in a spinebuster position. However, Marx reacts on instinct, twisting to take Sampson down with an armbar. He immediately clubs at Sampson's back and wraps him up in a tight grounded octopus hold!]
DT: Octopus lock by Jonathan Marx! He reversed what looked to be a spinebuster from Sampson!
MN: Resilient, technically sound... and an ass. Well, at least he adapts.
DT: Sampson looks like he's fading! Marx is one of the most technically-sound competitors we have in Empire Pro Wrestling, and once he gets you in his clutches, it's hard to break free.
MN: As you can see.
DT: Hold on, Sampson's trying to edge closer to the ropes - NO, Marx rolls over and puts him in a bow-and-arrow lock!
MN: Oh, shoot.
DT: Sampson's back is being stretched here, but he's trying to break free!
MN: He's straining-
DT: He's out!
[Breaking free of the bow-and-arrow, Sampson rolls over onto his hands and knees - well, onto one hand. The other one's holding his back. Scowling, Marx comes to his feet and advances on Sampson. However, Marx finds himself eating boot polish as Sampson reacts on instinct, drilling him with a brutally stiff superkick!]
DT: THERE IT IS! The Show Stopper!
MN: Marx ate foot!
DT: Sampson's not covering!
[Taking a breath, Sampson reaches up with one hand and signals to the crowd, who roar in approval. With that, Sampson heaves Marx off the mat and into an inverted fireman's carry, dropping him on his head with an inverted Death Valley Driver!]
DT: HEADLINER!!! HEADLINER!!! SAMPSON'S FINISHING MOVE CONNECTS!!!
MN: HE DRILLED HIM!!!
DT: SAMPSON'S GOT THE COVER -
ONE -
TWO -
THREEEEEE!!!
[SFX: *DINGDINGDING* - Bell rings]
WINNER: “Mr. Main Event” Rob Sampson
DT: Sampson wins this one!!! What a great technical show these two put on!
MN: Damn right, I’d like to see these two go at it again sometime!
DT: I’d be all for it, that’s for sure!
[Cut to Paul Freeman’s office, where he sits talking on his cell phone. He listens to whomever’s on the opposite end of the line, then speaks.]
PF: Well, have you made a decision?
[Pauses.]
PF: Come on, I already told you the sum.
[Pauses.]
PF: Alright, alright… we’ll work it all out, I promise.
[Pauses.]
PF: We’d love to have you here, man. The show’s going over real well…
[Pauses.]
PF: Just have your people contact my people. I’d like to get a meeting arranged for sometime this week. We’re going to Pittsburgh for the next show, hope we can get together.
[Freeman notices the camera and stands up to shut the door. Cut back to Dave and Mike.]
DT: Freeman seems to be in negotiations with someone!
MN: Wonder who it is? Better be worth the trouble, that’s all I gotta’ say.
DT: I’m sure it is, Mike. Alright, on to our next matchup!!
DT: Man, what a war of words these two have shared this week!
MN: You got that right, and I’m sure it’s just the beginning!
DT: Either one of these individuals could easily become top man in this company, I’m really interested in seeing this one, Mike!
MN: Bring Caitlyn Daymon on down, she’s a little hottie…
DT: That’s Rocko’s wife you’re talking about, Mike!
MN: Hey, I can respect marriages…
DT: Yeah, right…
MN: I said I respect them… didn’t say I would HONOR them.
["Capricorn" by 30 Seconds to Mars plays over the PA system. Into an entourage of red lights, Rocko Daymon steps out of the curtain. He is followed by his manager and wife, Caitlyn Daymon. The two stand for several moments at the top of the ramp, gazing over the mass audience as their entrance is hailed. Finally, after sharing a glance to look into each others eyes, the Daymons stride down the ramp to the ring.]
[When they arrive, Daymon slides under the bottom rope and comes onto his knees. Caitlyn Daymon stays at ringside, finding her place. Rocko looks at the mat for several moments, thinking about his performance and the importance of the match about to take place. Then, casting all thought aside, he pushes himself to his feet and goes into his corner, ready for action.]
MN: Man, Rocko looks FIRED UP.
DT: He wants a piece of Sands, a BIG piece.
MN: Well he’s about to get it…
[The haunting strains of "Dark Machine" by Paul Oakenfold cue up, and the lights in the arena go out; the Empiratron lights up with an image of Christian Sands gazing down from a distance, his face illuminated as if by car headlights through a window. After the first fourteen seconds of the song, a red strobelight kicks in. Smoke machines begin blowing a drifting mist horizontally across the ramp as Christian Sands emerges, striding down the ramp with the mist curling about his feet. He vaults into the ring over the top rope and stretches his arms briefly before boosting himself up to a turnbuckle, seating himself there facing inward towards. Daymon.]
DT: Oh man, I can feel the vibes comin’ off of this one.
MN: Hell yeah, you see that skirt she’s wearin??
DT: Not Caitlyn, The matchup!
MN: Oh, there’s one of those going on? Right…. You just call it brother.
DT: Fine… I will…
[Daymon comes firing on all cylinders at Sands, and both men lock up. They struggle for a few moments, each trying to gain the upper hand. Finally, Daymon forces Sands to his knees, but Christian uses the opportunity to sweep his legs out from under him. When he does this, Daymon immediately rolls back and stands to his feet once more. Sands gets up to meet him, and is taken over with a quick armdrag takeover.]
DT: Some fast paced action by both these guys…
MN: …..
[Sands is immediately back up, and comes rushing at Daymon. Rocko uses his own momentum against him and sends him flying backwards with a T-Bone suplex. The fans cheer heavily for Daymon’s move, and Christian hits the mat hard. He gets to his feet, and walks around to gather his thoughts. Christian grabs a hold of one of the ropes, stretching out a little more before continuing, and Daymon looks on in anticipation.]
DT: Sands might be playing some mind games with Daymon here…
MN: ….
[Sands goes back in and the two immediately tie up once more. This time Sands executes a go behind, then he tosses Daymon backwards with a high angle german suplex. The fans react as Daymon’s head smashes against the mat. Sands gets up and smirks, shaking his hands and getting warmed up. Daymon eventually makes it back up to his feet and smirks back Sands, rushing at him once more. Daymon comes flying in with a spear, but Sands sidesteps it to cause Rocko to slam into the ringpost. Sands then grabs one of Daymon’s legs and pulls him backwards for a pinning attempt. The ref counts. 1….2…. kickout by Daymon.]
DT: Ouch, Daymon hit that post hard! He’s lucky he didn’t get busted open on that one.
MN: ….
DT: Mike, are you going to say anything?
MN: No talk… just look.
DT: [Sigh.] Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for my partner’s actions…
[After Daymon kicks out, Sands is quick to approach his legs for some submission maneuver. Daymon kicks Christian with all his might, sending him straight to the mat. Both men get up at the same time, and Daymon lays into Christian’s face with a few hard rights. Rocko then sends Christian to the far ropes, and when he returns he nails him with a tilt a whirl backbreaker, much to the fans’ liking. Instead of going for a pin, Daymon immediately slaps on a texas cloverleaf. He pulls back as hard as he can, putting as much pressure as he can on Sands’ back.]
DT: Cloverleaf by Daymon here, Sands is in some serious pain!
MN: You think if Rocko dies, I got a chance with Caitlyn?
DT: Mike! That’s horrible, man!
MN: Well… he IS kinda’ beat up…
[After a minute in the hold, Sands refuses to give in, and Daymon is forced to release it. He lifts Christian back up to his feet, sending him to the ropes and performing a strong clothesline to knock him down once more. Daymon then looks towards Caitlyn, wiping the sweat from his brow. She claps for him, then he continues on his assault. As he walks over to pick up Sands, he is hit with a rising chop by Sands. The fans scream “WHOOOO”. Then another. “WHOOO” Then another. Sands repeats the process a few more times, until Daymon’s chest is beet red.]
DT: Wow, vicious chops by Sands!
[Daymon tries to retaliate with a hard punch, but Sands ducks and grabs him around the waist. In one heave, Sands lifts Daymon up and over him with a high overhead belly to belly suplex that rocks the ring. The fans applaud the move, but Sands is relentless. He goes to the ropes, then comes firing back with a dropkick to Rocko’s face. ]
DT: Oh, kick to the teeth!!! That’s gotta hurt!
MN: You know, I have to go with Christian on this one…
DT: You’re just saying that because you want Caitlyn!
MN: So, what’s your point?
[Sands walks over and lifts Daymon up to his feet. He hoists him up in a fireman’s carry position, then drops him down into a neckbreaker. The fans “oooh” some more as Daymon holds the back of his head while Sands makes the cover. 1…2…kickout. Sands again lifts Daymon to his feet, and applies a hammerlock. Daymon reverses it though, and applies it himself. He then lifts Sands up and performs a back hammerlock suplex, dropping Christian right on his arm. The fans applaud for Rocko’s comeback.]
DT: Here comes Daymon again!
MN: Maaaaaaaaannnn….
[Daymon starts to stomp away at Christian’s face, then delivers one really strong boot to the back of his head. Christian gets up holding it, then walks right into kick to the midsection. Daymon hooks both arms, then delivers a picture perfect double arm DDT. The fans cheer for Rocko as he covers the fallen Sands. 1….2….kickout by Sands.]
DT: Near fall there! This one’s getting good!
MN: JUST QUIT DAYMON… YOU’RE WASHED UP.
DT: He could whip your butt, and probably will if he catches you looking at his wife that way.
MN: No way, Christian’s got my back!
DT: Uh huh.
[Frustrated, Daymon gets on top of Sands and starts to hammer away at his face. After a few lefts, a few rights, and a few more lefts, Sands is able to shove Daymon backwards off of him. Daymon doesn’t take no for an answer, however, and immediately rushes Sands with another tackle. He slams his head off of the mat a few times, then goes back to the solid punches.]
MN: Holy sh…
DT: … he’s beating the crap out of Sands!
MN: Hey… I’m just gonna try and not think about that girl over there, ok? Keep my mind off of it…
DT: Good to have you back, Mike.
MN: Uh huh… yeah…
[Daymon backs up off of Sands, letting him get to his feet, and makes a “come get some” kind of motion with both of his hands. Christian darts toward him with lightning speed, spearing him up, and then through the ropes to the outside. Both men go tumbling over the apron to the arena floor, where they exchange blows back and forth.]
DT: This rumble’s gone to the floor!
MN: Hell yeah! Beat the snot out of each other!
[Sands gets the upper hand and gets up off of Daymon. He runs over to the announcers’ table and grabs a folding chair.]
DT: Hey… you can’t do that! Put that back Sands!!
MN: Go for it kid!
[Sands smirks at Thomas and turns around to go after Daymon. The referee is on the floor by this time, and starts to wrestle the chair away from Sands. Christian won’t give it up though. However, when Rocko comes into the picture, Sands lets go of the chair immediately and it flies back to smack the ref in the face, knocking him out cold.]
MN: REF BUMP!
DT: Our senior referee just got nailed in the face… BY HIMSELF!
MN: What a goober.
[Sands and Daymon continue to exchange punches until Daymon throws a kick in there and doubles Sands over. Throwing him between his legs, Daymon then pulls back and performs a jumping piledriver right on the chair that lays next to the unconscious ref. Sands’ head cracks off the steel hard, and Daymon rolls backwards to survey the damage.]
DT: Oh my god!! OH MY GOD!! Sands’ could have just broken his neck!
MN: Nevermind that… he’s never gonna’ get the chicks now with a busted up face like that! Look at him!
[The camera zooms in on Sands’ face, which is now bleeding profusely. Daymon grabs a nearby camera cable and begins to wrap it around Christian’s neck, choking him as hard as he can. The fans in the front row try to reach the two desperately, but the competitors are too focused to see anything else. After a moment or two of the choking, Sands is able to flip Daymon over him, down onto his back. Christian then gets up, grabbing the chair, looking in Daymon’s direction. As soon as Rocko stands up, Sands absolutely DRILLS Daymon with one of the most sickening chair shots ever heard or seen. A resounding CRACK echoes throughout the arena, and Daymon hits the floor like a ton of bricks.]
MN: YEAH!
DT: I can’t believe this, these two are mangling each other!!! Somebody get them back in the ring!
[Sands raises his arms, receiving boos from the Empire crowd. He attempts to revive the ref, then rolls him back into the ring. Christian then picks up Rocko and rolls him in as well, going for a cover.]
DT: Oh this has to be it… it’s over!
[The groggy referee makes a slow count. 1…. 2…..kickout by Daymon. The fans cheer tremendously.]
DT: Daymon kicks out!! Daymon kicks out!!
MN: Damn, now even HE’S busted open. This is so sweet!
[After Daymon kicks out, Sands goes back on the attack. He lifts Daymon up, quickly going for his patented cobra clutch bomb, but Daymon gets out of it, holding on to Sands’ wrist. He whips him hard to the furthest corner, then comes flying in back first, crushing Sands against the turnbuckles.]
DT: The Phantom Train! Daymon’s comin’ back!
MN: Damn, do these two ever quit?
[Daymon then grabs the staggering Sands and applies a standing headscissor. He hooks one of Sands’ arms and looks out to the audience.]
DT: This could be it!!! We’re gonna see the Brain Rocker Redux!!!
[As Daymon is about to hook Sands’ other arm, he is surprised to get a shot to the ribs. Sands backs his way out of the hold, then locks up with Daymon. He performs another go-behind, this time hooking Daymon’s wrists. With one flowing motion, he drops to the mat, hitting the Sand Blaster. The fans in the audience boo heavily as he goes for a cover on the bloodied Daymon.]
DT: Sand Blaster!!! SAND BLASTER!!! He’s got the cover….
[The ref counts. 1…. 2….kickout!!!! The fans are cheering at the top of their lungs. The referee motions for the timekeeper to ring the bell.]
DT: What the hell??? What’s going on?? That was a close count ladies and gentlemen, but I could have sworn Daymon kicked out!
MN: No way!!! Sands got the three!!! Even the ref knows that!!!
[The fans look confused, then immediately start to boo again. The timekeeper gets on the mic and is listening to the referee as he speaks.]
Timekeeper: Ladies and gentlemen… I’m being informed that Mr. Daymon’s shoulders were indeed on the mat for the pinfall! Your winner… CHRISTIIIAAAAAAAAAAAN SSSSSSSSAAAAAAAAAANDS!
[Just as this is said, another referee comes running out from the back to dispute the claim. He starts to talk to the other ref and the timekeeper…
Timekeeper: Ladies and gentlemen… I’m being told that Mr. Daymon’s shoulders were NOT… [fans start cheering wildly] on the mat when the referee made his three count, therefore, this match must continue!!!
DT: Oh my god, what an emotional rollercoaster!!! I can’t believe this.
MN: I’ve never seen anything like it, that’s for sure.
[Just as the referees finish talking to the timekeeper, Daymon walks over to the ropes to see what’s going on. As he does so, Sands comes up behind him and completely blindsides him with yet another Cobra Clutch Bomb. Daymon hits the mat hard, and this time, Sands is sure to hook the leg. One of the referees immediately comes racing in to count the pin. 1….2….3!!!!]
DT: WHAT A SNEAK!!! DID YOU SEE THAT?!?!?!
MN: AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
DT: Did he just do what I think he did???
MN: The man is a genius!
[The fans boo heavily as Sands slides out of the ring, quickly walking to the back. Both of the referees look at each other in disbelief, but ultimately the decision is given to Sands.]
WINNER: CHRISTIAN SANDS
DT: That’s an outrage… Daymon kicked out in the first place! There never should have been any controversy!!
MN: He did not!!! And besides, Sands got the final pin and the last laugh!!!
[The audience mills around in a state of awe and confusion as a disgruntled Caitlyn Daymon tries to talk to the referees. The Daymons then head to the back, followed by the referees who are still arguing.]