DT: What a match by Frankie Scott and the Sergeant, gentlemen. These two are not only two of the hottest up-and-comers EPW has, but they have the potential to be major players someday.
MN: Yeah yeah, blah blah...singing their praises for a curtain jerker match. I, for one, am looking forward to this next match with two...dare I say it...lovely ladies ganging up on that do-gooder Mike Evers.
DM: Now look who's singing whose praises.
MN: I'm not afraid to admit my preference for females, unlike Thomas over here.
DT: Oh would you cut it out...
[The lights begin to flicker on-and-off throughout the arena. CUE UP: "Eat the Rich" by Fozzy.]
MN: Hey, this isn't in the script!
[Out comes JA to a nice ovation from the crowd. The Anglo-Luchador is decked out in his mask [obviously], khaki pants and his new, officially licensed EPW T-shirt. Beside him is Lollipop, wearing a black spaghetti-strap dress, black Weezer glasses and black high heels. The two walk arm-in-arm, Lolli bouncing along beside JA.]
DM: JA's not scheduled until the main event, but I'd be willing to bet that he's got plenty to say beforehand.
MN: Who cares what that masked twit has to say, look at that dress on
Lollipop. Rrrrrrowr!
[JA and Lollipop wait in the ring as JA's music dies out. The Ryantron lights up to a brilliant white before fading to black.]
DM: If JA's out here already, I can only guess who's going to be following him...
MN: Lollipop's twin sister Tootsie Roll?
DT: He never stops, does he?
"Do you really have to be the ice queen intellectual or the slut whore? Isn't there some way to be both?" fades onto the black screen, the phrase slowly becoming synonymous not only with Susan Sarandon, but with the Empire Pro World Heavyweight Champion. CUE-UP: "Money, Power, Respect"...Lil Kim, DMX, The Lox. The crowd greets Lindsay Troy to a thunderous ovation as she steps out onto the stage, wearing the EPW title around her waist, a tight, customized French Connection UK t-shirt that reads FCUK TROY WINDHAM across the front and FC me julie jeans. The camera closes in on her face, but she merely smirks before proceeding down the aisle.]
DM: And here comes the champ, sporting quite the mark on her face courtesy of a fireball from Troy Windham at Black Dawn.
MN: I may have bought the new Troy Windham T-shirt, but I've still only partially forgiven him for burning up Troy's beautiful face.
DT: Rumors have circulated this week about the severity of Troy's condition. I asked Dan Ryan earlier today about this and he assured me that Troy insisted on continuing to compete. There's not expected to be any long-term damage, apparently.
[Troy enters the ring and poses on a turnbuckle for the crowd before jumping down and standing next to JA. She pulls two mics out of her back pocket and tosses one to him. The crowd buzzes as JA raises the mic up to his mask.]
JA: You know, when I heard that He-Troy was flaming, I didn't expect it to be literal. I just thought that he and his little boy-Troy September de la Rossi were a little bit more than intimate. But boy was I wrong. And thusly, it happens that his little fire trick burnt the face of a Champion who just went through a war in the ring, and I know, because I called the friggin' match, and in the process gave me about the eleventy-billionth concussion of my career. Yeah, that's really how the CSDub UNIFIED Champion should conduct himself. But He-Troy, you made a fatal mistake. You pissed off the Queen ***** in the process.
[JA nods and Troy takes her cue.]
LT: Not like that's very hard to do.
MN: Those two better watch themselves lest Windham and his Entourage decide to pay them a visit.
DT: Why, so they can pull another sneak attack? They couldn't even be bothered to show up for their scheduled interview tapings.
DM: The Boss doesn't like it when his talent doesn't show up for their spots.
[The crowd buzzes as Troy continues.]
LT: There've been a lot of people over the years who have done some pretty rotten things to me, for a variety of reasons that I like to file under the bullsh[BLEEP!] category.
LT: People are taken aback by a confident, pretty girl who knows what she wants in life and isn't going to let anyone get in her way. And you know what it's all about? Jealousy. But I've never...ever...had a man injure me because he was jealous. Jealous of my success; jealous of me being in high-demand; jealous because my curvy shadow eclipsed his own. But you won't ever hear Troy Windham admit that. Oh no no no...the man who's at the top of the AP Rankings for the Biggest Douchebag wouldn't ever admit that someone grabs more attention than he does. And it's a woman no less! No, Windham's content to stand behind his mouthpiece and muscle and pick his spot when he's got the greatest advantage...after I took Xandor to the brink once more and kept my belt in the process. Well guess what, Troy...tonight, the Entourage may just have to quit for real. I haven't seen them yet, but it won't take a bloodhound to follow the trail of oil-based paint, baby oil and cheap Nina Ricci for Men cologne. They're going to have a hard time showing their face to you or to anyone else here after JA and I get through with them, and that's if we even leave any part of their faces intact. And then, Troy...I'll be having a casting call for one last episode of Six Feet Under, with you playing the pompous, overbearing asshole who finds out that imitation isn't the sincerest form of flattery, and pays a heavy consequence for it.
JA: All imitation references aside... [playfully glares at Troy], fellas, you walked into the wrong playground and pushed around the wrong kids playing on the swing. Maybe your dog and fire show would have worked on, say, Adman Benjiturd or Karl the Fire-Breathing Wrestler, but something tells me you're not here for either of their straps. But you have to understand something, to come into our house and try to butt yourself into the World Championship scene without as much as a half-a-match and the courtesy of a reacharound for Beastie Boy, cuz I heard he likes that...
[Troy smirked.]
JA: ...to do that requires one of two things. Balls of steel or a brain the size of a peanut. Because no one, and I mean no one, just waltzes into my home and takes things that rightfully belong to me and to other guys here who bust their asses night in and night out. That includes claims to the Ee-Pee-Dub Championship. No He-Troy, you have to earn your shot at She-Troy just like everyone else here. I don't care if you're the UNIFIED Champion or if you make movies for Lifetime or Pax TV or the Gay Porn Network, or how many Hollywood celebrities you give rimjobs to. So in a way, even if you didn't have your goons attack me... I would probably still have an issue with you coming in here and doing the sh*t you're doing. And while I want what She-Troy has around her waist... well, I have her back when it comes to interlopers trying to cheapen what she, and I, and everyone else here have tried to build.
LT: Bottom line, Troy...you should have stayed in Greensboro and in the West where the likelihood of our paths crossing would have been slim. Consider yourself a marked man and know that I haven't been known to miss a shot yet.
[Troy tosses the mic to a crew member as "Money, Power, Respect" plays once more. JA assists Lollipop out of the ring while Troy vaults herself over the top rope to the floor. The three make their way backstage while Aggression takes a commercial break.]