DM: The next contest is for one of the most prestigious prizes in Empire Pro Wrestling history, if not only because the current Intercontinental Champion, Karl Brown, has held onto and defended it successfully for over two years! 

MN: Considering the hiatuses ... the lulls ... and, the actual title defenses ... that'd be, what? Six total title defenses? Impressive!

DT: Shut it. 

DM: It would be foolish for any person to think that a man as talented as Karl Brown deserves anything but praise for being the longest reigning champion in Empire Pro Wrestling. In fact, it'd be almost disrespectful, considering how hard it is to remain successful in the wrestling industry, with all of the potential injuries and wear and tear one has to endure. Karl Brown is in the midst of doing something remarkable the longer he holds onto his Intercontinental Championship.

DT: And, you wanna know the funny part of it all? --

MN: -- Not really.

DT: Didn't I tell you to shut it? The funny part is he probably could care less about the title, so long as he's winning. 

MN: That wasn't funny.

DM: I don't think it was supposed to be.

MN: INSTANT REPLAY SOMEBODY! Please ... somebody in the back, rewind the tape to a couple of minutes ago, when Inspector Gadget over here spoke last. His exact words were, "You wanna hear something funny". 

DM: Guys in the truck, ignore this idiot. Geez. Must you be an ass at every available opportunity?!

MN & DT: Yes!

DM: Eye-yie-yie... let's get to the ring.

TF: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is for one fall and is for the EPW INTERCONTINENTAL TITLE!!! Introducing first, a challenger……TROY DOUGLAS!!!

[Douglas walks to the ring, slapping the hands of a few hands, climb in and takes his place in one corner, jogging lightly in place.]

TF: His opponent, also a challenger….making his in-ring return….THE SERGEANT!!!!!

[Sarge does likewise, slapping hands with the fans on his way to the ring, sliding in and raising a fist to the crowd, who cheer back at him loudly.]

[“Rainmaker” by Iron Maiden starts up – the crowd roars.]

TF: And their opponent, from Nottingham, England….weighing in at two hundred eleven pounds….he is the EPW INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPION….KARL “THE DRAGOOOOOOOON” BROOOOOWWWWN!!!!!!!!!!

[Brown comes down the aisle, but uncharacteristically ignores the fans, instead focusing on the ring and making a beeline for the ropes. He climbs in and just stands there, awaiting the bell.]

DM: All three competitors are in the ring, as the bell sounds, the referee raises the Intercontinental Championship in the air, signifying that this is indeed a title match, as the Sergeant gazes up at it, almost in awe of it's beauty.

DT: Karl Brown notices, and shouts something that I couldn't quite catch, but the Sarge did, and it's ticked him off!

MN: He said something about his mom. 

DT: How do YOU know?

MN: I mean ... have you SEEN her?! The lady's got a camel toe worse than Rocko Daymon's wife! 

DM: Both men are staring each other down face- to- face ... Troy Douglas with a double clothesline!! Both men totally forgot about Troy Douglas, and he made them pay! You gotta remember, there are THREE men competing for the Intercontinental title in there!

MN: Really?! Wow. I thought Troy was in there trying to sell protective gear! Who knew he was in there to actually ... WRESTLE!

DT: Smart ass. 

DM: More like, dumb ass, but I digress. Back to the action in the ring. Karl Brown, after being clotheslined, slid out of the ring in order to gather himself. Unfortunately for the Sarge, he landed in the ring which makes him an easier target for Douglas. Douglas pulls Sarge up to his feet, sends him to the ropes, back body drop! And, the Sarge is holding his back like it's broken! 

DT: Douglas has gotten off to a great start here, and this could only help him in the long run if you ask me.

MN: Who asked you?

DT: What is your deal tonight? You're a little more mean spirited than usual.

MN: You really want to know?

DM: Actually, no. 

MN: Touche'.

DM: Douglas moves in on the Sarge, but the Sergeant -- grabbing a handful of tights tosses Troy Douglas through the middle ropes outside of the ring. Douglas doesn't land too hard, and prepares to get back into the ring, RUNNING SCISSORS KICK BY THE CHAMP! 

DT: And, Douglas is down. Brown enters the ring, and charges the Sarge ... they trade shots, before the Sarge ducks, and charges the ropes, bounces off, wait a -- RELEASE BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX! Brown with the cover...

One... 

Two...

Shoulder up!

DM: That was a close one. Brown back up to his feet, he notices Troy Douglas on the outside ... runs to the ropes ... BASEBALL SLIDE nails Troy Douglas and sends him onto OUR announce table.

MN[talking on his cellular]: Hello? Yeah, baby, you know how much I like those red pumps. Huh? What's that ... NOISE?! Oh, you know how Verizon is, service is all screwed up.

DM: Are you KIDDING me?! You have a JOB to do!

MN[stuttering]: Umm... umm... yeah, honey, I gotta go. My butler's choking to death, I gotta go help him. [Hangs up the phone.] So, yeah, what's HE doing here?! [Pointing to Troy Douglas]

DT: His job, you should TRY it sometime.

DM: Karl Brown has the Sarge on his feet, Spike DDT! And, the Sarge could quite possibly have a concussion! 

DT: He's tough, though, I wouldn't count him out just yet.

MN: You're right.

DT: I ... AM?!

MN: I'm JUST as surprised as you. But, yes, you ARE. Sarge is too STUPID to stay down.

DT: I *knew* there was a catch!

MN: If you don't know, you better ASK somebody! I got that from Ice Tre.

DT: Do you idiot's socialize at an idiot's bar?

DM: Let's try to remain impartial please. 

DT & MN: Sorry. 

DM: Douglas is on his feet, so is the Sarge inside of the ring, as Karl Brown moves in for the kill ... Troy Douglas slides into the ring, behind the unsuspecting Intercontinental Champion ... BRIDGING GERMAN SUPLEX!

ONE!

TWO!!

Leg-drop by the Sarge breaks up the count!

DT: Troy Douglas is holding his throat, gasping for air! I think the Sarge's leg landed right on his 'Adam's Apple'! The Sarge with the cover! ONE! TWO! SHOULDER UP AT TWO!

MN: Wait a minute ... THAT was the legdrop! 

DT: ... and?

MN: But, but ... NOBODY kicks out of the ... LEGDROP!

DT: Around here they do. 

DM: Both the champion and Troy Douglas are struggling to get on their feet. The Sarge is up, waiting for it ... both competitors are up ... Sarge charges ... Both men seem prepared, double back body -- wait! The Sarge holds on the drills both men with a double DDT! What a counter by the Sergeant! 

DT: Sarge is fighting for his life in there. He pulls the champion to his feet and tosses him outside of the ring, leaving just himself and Troy Douglas in the ring. Douglas is using the ropes to get to his feet, he staggers, turns around, MILITARY PRESS! The Sarge just pressed Douglas like it was nothing. Douglas is back up on his feet ... Flying Shoulder Tackle! And, Douglas is down again! 

DM: Brown slides back into the ring ... Russian Leg Sweep, sends the Sarge down! Brown raises the Sarge up, tosses him into the turnbuckle ... DIAMOND DUST! He just nailed the Sarge with a Diamond Cutter, that he likes to call the Diamond Dust, and I think the Sarge is out of it. Brown drops down for the cover...

ONE! 

TWO!!

Troy Douglas with a kick to the back of the head may have saved the day for the Sarge!

MN: I don't think he did that with the Sarge in mind.

DT: Brown is up, he looks to be VERY irritated with Troy Douglas, charges, Clothesline -- NO! SMALL PACKAGE BY TROY DOUGLASS! ONE! TWO! THREE!! NOOOOOOO!!!!! Brown kicked out! Brown kicked out! 

MN[dialing on his cell phone]: Hello? I need to speak to Numbers ... Joey Numbers. Joey! Yeah, it's Mike. Listen, something came up, and I'm going to need to cancel the bet. 

DM[disgusted]: This has GOT to be the most ridiculous thing I have EVER seen! Do you have ANY common sense?!

MN[whispering into his phone]: Numbers ... The an-mey, is istening-ley. I'll all-Cay ou-yay ack-bey!

DT: Did this idiot just use Pig Latin on national television? When did this become the Sopranos?

MN[hanging the phone up]: I don't know what you're talking about, that was this fine stewardess I met in town, she wants me ... Bad!

DM: Brown is on his feet after the small package almost ended his title reign. So is Douglas, Troy charges in, but is caught off guard, Drop Toe Hold, which Karl turns into a side headlock! 

DT: Karl's got a lot of tricks, he won't go down without a fight. There's a reason he's held onto the title as long as he has.

MN: Yeah, he barely DEFENDS it. 

DM: Troy Douglas is in the headlock, but the crowd's cheering, chanting his name, giving him an adrenaline rush. He's making his way to his feet ... Brown is trying to apply more pressure, but Troy is in the zone. 

DT: Behind them, the Sarge is slowly getting up on his feet, and they don't see him.

DM: Troy's still in the headlock, but he's wrapped his arms around Karl's waist. I think he's trying to counter -- wait, what's the Sarge doing? He's now wrapped his arms around Douglas's waist from behind ... both men lift their opponent up! THREE WAY BELLY TO BACK SUPLEX! KARL BROWN GOT THE WORST OF IT! WOW! 

MN: Is what they did even ... possible?

DT: Brown is down, the Sarge drops down for the pin ... ONE! TWO! THR-- SHOULDER UP!

DM: The Sarge scales the top rope, Karl Brown is still down, Troy Douglas is on his feet ... barely. The Sarge with a Missile Dropkick, Troy Douglas dodges ... THE SARGE HITS THE REFEREE! And, the ref is down!! 

MN: Somebody ... Anybody ... DISQUALIFY THAT MAN! 

DM: That was CLEARLY an accident! Douglas is down, the Sarge can't believe what he JUST did, and Karl Brown -- what is Karl DOING?! 

DT: Brown slid outside of the ring, and he's looking under the apron for God Knows What!

MN: Like he's got that many options. There's a ladder, a table, a steel chair or a ... DUN, DUN, DUUUNN, sledgehammer. But, I think the latter was trademarked already! [stands up and yells in Karl Brown's direction] We don't need no stinkin' lawsuits, champ!!

DT & DM: SIT DOWN PLEASE!

DM: Karl Brown has a steel chair, and I can't believe what I am seeing. Brown slides in the ring and nails Troy Douglas square between the eyes! Troy hit the mat HARD! Brown is relentless ... he's pounding away at Douglas, almost as if he has something PERSONAL against the man!

DT: The Sarge is on his feet, he and Brown notice each other at the same time. Brown charges with the chair, swings ... NO! The Sarge moved out of the way, and the chair bounced off of the ropes, nailing Karl Brown! Karl Brown may have just knocked HIMSELF out! The Sarge down for the cover ... but, there's no referee!

[The crowd chants ONE, TWO, THREE.]

DM: The Sarge is up ... he lift's Brown to his feet ... haymaker ... NO! Brown DUCKS IT! Kicks Brown in the back ... DRAGON'S BITE! THE SARGE IS OUT COLD! AND BROWN DROPS DOWN FOR THE COVER...

[The crowd counts the Sarge out this time.]

DT: Brown can't believe it! He has this match won, but there's no referee to make the count! Wow!! 

DM: Brown is on his feet ... he's looking toward the back, signalling for a referee to come down. But, look, behind him ... the Sarge is slowly making progress ... he's motioning towards that steel chair, he has it, Brown turns around ... CHAIRSHOT HEARD ROUND THE WORLD! 

MN: TTTIIIIIIIIIMMMMMBBBBBBBEEEEEERRRRRR!

DT: The Sarge used the steel chair!! Poetic justice! 

DM: Sarge picks Troy Douglas up ... POWERBOMB OUTSIDE OF THE RING! The Sarge is on a mission. He's scaling the top rope ... looking down at Karl Brown's lifeless body ... FLYING ELBOW DROP! The Sarge is down for the cover ... the referee is slowly coming to...

ONE....




.... TWO!!




THREE!!!!!!

DT: NEW INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPION! NEW INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPION! THE SARGE DOES IT! HE DID IT!

MN: He CHEATED!!!

DM: The Sarge beat Karl Brown at his own game, and ladies and gentlemen, we have a NEW Intercontinental Champion!

ANNOUNCER: Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of the match ... AAAAAAANANNNNNNNDDDDDD NEW EMPIRE PRO WRESTLING INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPION ... TTTTTTHHHHHHHEEEEEE SEEEEERRRRRGGGEEEEAAAAANNNNNT!!

DM: It's over, the Karl Brown era is OVER! WHAT A MATCH! WHAT A NIGHT! 

DT: Wow! 

DM: The referre hands The Sergeant his newly won title, and look at that man's face! He has TEARS in his eyes! The crowd is giving him a standing ovation as he makes his way to his feet! 

DT: And, it's about damned time!! 

[CUTTO: The private dressing room of Talent Representative, Cassidy Stewart and his only client, EPW "superstar", and self-proclaimed 'King of the Streets', Ice Tre. He quietly sings under his breathe, primping himself in the mirror.]

ICE TRE: Ain't nobody dope as me -- Ahhhhhh'm dressed so fresh, so clean.

[Applying his shades...]

ICE TRE: So fresh and so clean-clean.

[We hear a low ring, and Tre instantly reached for his iPhone on the table before him. He 'unlocked' it and jabbed at its screen before pressing it to his ear, awkwardly. Seriously. Have you ever seen someone TALK on one of those things? Completely Ridiculous.] 

ICE TRE: Who dat is?

[A pause.]

ICE TRE: Yo, YO. What the deal be? ... What? ... HA! I TOLD YOU! What I say?! What *I* tell your goofy ass?!? Keep playin' round with Shalonda like you do 'n your sh_t was gon' be BURNIN'! ... How you think *I* know?

[Dressed casual in a blue jumpsuit and a single, solid, obnoxious gold chain around his neck, T R E still carried that unremarkable swagger with every motion. He cackled loudly.] 

ICE TRE: You damn right, hah! ... Wish you was kickin' it here with me, Ray-Ray. Wouldn't B'LIEVE how the EPW Suits be All Up On Me Like: What? Full court press, an' sh_t. That punk busta, STEVENZ, up and quit like a ***** -- dropping DA GOLD with him. You'd think the whole damn world been turned on it's ear, if you saw the chaos 'round this piece. You b'lieve him, though? Tryin' to SELL it like he was "going out on top". Riiiiiight. The world knows what's up; he dropped that belt because he KNOWS that Ice Tre MADE HIM THE CHAMPION. He's ASHAMED. HAH! ... You damn right! Word backstage be that the Suits may even just HAND me the EPW World Championship by DEFAULT, an' sh_t! Just for bein' me. Just for bein' T R E. ... know'msayin'? ... ya HEARD? 

[Tre took he phone away from his ear for a moment, curiously examining the screen. He apparently had lost his signal.]

ICE TRE: Ray-ray! ... where you AT?!? ... Day-um.

[Tre was putting his phone in his pocket just as he heard the door click shut behind him.] 

ICE TRE: Cassanova! Where you BEEN, homie?

[He turned to face the door, and was taken aback --]

ICE TRE: ... Dag, yo ...

[The feed quickly cut to black before returning to a long shot of the ring.]