The first match of the evening featured the newly signed Otaku and another relative newcomer in The Raptor, making his second appearance after a win over fellow newcomer Sanket Desai last week.
Otaku came to the ring dressed as Hinata Hyuga from 'Naruto', something he was apparently proud of, which was met with snickers from some in the audience and a raised eyebrow from his opponent. Things became serious rather quickly as soon as the bell rang, however as Otaku took control early with ground based submission holds, which effectively grounded The Raptor.
The Raptor took control near the five minute mark and attempted a high risk maneuver, narrowly missing a senton splash in the corner which Otaku capitalized on, hitting his stalling brainbuster for the three count.
Winner: Otaku
[We open up in the arena parking garage as a sleek black Jaguar pulls through the access gate and comes to a stop in an empty spot near the wrestlers’ designated entrance. Reporter extraordinaire MOJO MASSEY pops into the frame with a mic in hand as the front doors of the car come open and the husband and wife duo of ROCKO and CAITLYN DAYMON step out. Rocko’s expression is very calm and focused as he rises out of the car, revealing for us his usual attire of jeans, a black t-shirt, and… a gaudy black and green flower shirt on top. Mojo approaches him as he comes around the car to the trunk, and pops it open.]
Mojo!: Hey, Rocko!
Rocko: Sup, Moj?
Mojo!: Looks like you two were able to make it to tonight’s event without any problems. I guess it’s safe to say, based on what you told me earlier this week, that you have numerous expectations on how things will pan out over the night.
[Rather than supplying him a confirmation, Rocko grumbles something and turns his attention to the trunk, first removing his bag and then moving a few things around. Caitlyn quickly steps into his place, much to the reporter’s chagrin.]
Caitlyn: You BET we’ve got expectations for tonight, Mojo! Last week was simply a tip of the iceberg for everything we have planned.
Mojo!: And just what do you have planned?
Caitlyn: Wouldn’t you like to know? I’d love to tell you, Mojo, but I’d have to kill you if I did.
…so, do you want to know?
Mojo!: Uh, no thank you. But, what if anybody tries to interfere with your plans? Certainly, Stalker must be looking for the both of you after what you did to him last week…
Caitlyn: PFFT! Do you honestly think we’re afraid of that piece of garbage? With Rock and I watching each other’s back’s tonight, I’m afraid there isn’t ANYBODY capable of stopping us! Not Stalker… not JA or Kin Hiroshi… and ESPECIALLY not that pathetic excuse of a champ, SEAN—
[Her words are immediately cut off as Rocko’s hand suddenly comes around her face and presses a handkerchief over her mouth and nose. Her eyes go wide as soon as she smells the chloroform, but Rocko seizes her by the waist with his free arm before she can squirm free.]
Mojo!: Oh my GOD!!
[Her struggle is fierce and animalistic as she writhes wildly, limbs flailing and kicking, but Rocko, like a stone, keeps her pinned down until the job is finished. After a few moments, her eyelids begin to flutter and her struggle weakens.]
Mojo!: Rocko, what are you—!?
[Caitlyn’s lights go out at last and Rocko drags her toward the car.]
Mojo!: Rocko, what is the meaning of this!?
Rocko: Shut up and grab her legs, will you?
Mojo!: HUH?! Oh… man!
[Awkwardly, Mojo stuffs the mic under his armpit and lifts Caitlyn off the ground by the feet while Rocko supports her upper body. Together, they dump her into the open turnk, and Rocko promptly shuts it.]
Mojo!: Why are you—??
Rocko: She’ll only get in the way tonight. That’s why.
Mojo!: In the way of what?
Rocko: In the way of those “expectations” you were asking about.
Mojo!: WHAT?!
Rocko: You’ll find out later. Now do you want a REAL news scoop, or are you just here to waste my time with the same old, “What’s going through your mind?” questions?
Mojo!: HUH?!
Rocko: Then follow me.
[Rocko picks up his bag and heads for the entrance. Mojo, possible because he doesn’t know what else to do, stammers after him.]
Mojo!: Where are we going?
Rocko: To pay the boss a visit.
Mojo!: Oh boy…
[They step inside, and we cut back to the ring.]
The second match of the evening was over almost before it began, as Rob Franklin dominated Desai from the opening bell. Desai took several shots at Franklin to start the match, but the technically superior Franklin took control and never gave it back. Desai was never able to mount any measurable defense against Franklin’s offense and fell victim to Franklin’s Ice Breaker, a diving headbutt from the top rope.
Winner: Rob Franklin
The opening instrumentals for “We Right Here” by DMX blare over the arena stereo system. The crowd goes crazy, knowing that this can only mean one thing: the combat tested and mother approved soldier from Missouri is in the building and about to make his way to the ring.
Bring it! what?
We right here
Were not goin anywhere
We right here
This is ours and we dont share
We right here
Bring your crew cuz we dont care
We right here
The Sergeant dashes to the ramp with a quickness, posing with the Empire Pro Wrestling Intercontinental Title held high above his head. The look on Sarge's face is priceless, as he has the appearance of a boy on Christmas Day, getting exactly what he wanted from his parents. He plays to the crowd with an enormous smile on his face before making his way down to the ring.
Just like that
I can go away for a minute, do some other ****, but bounce right back.
Those particular lyrics of his song ring true tonight. Sarge steps through the ropes and poses once again for another thunderous positive reaction from the crowd.
Somebody from outside the ring tosses Sarge a microphone. He fumbles with it for a moment before speaking...
Sarge: Well would you look at me! I'm so excited right now that I can barely function properly!
POP!
Sarge: It might be hard for some people to believe, but this is the first gold I have ever had around my waist! This is the absolute best feeling I have had in my professional wrestling career!
Another POP!
Sarge: You know, if I would have won the title a year ago the way that I just did... well, I don't think I would have been nearly as satisfied. Sure I won the Intercontinental Title, but if I would have won it a year ago the only thing on my mind would have been the screwball ending of the match and how I used a chair to obtain the victory.
You see, that is exactly the reason why I couldn't win the title a year ago. What I've come to realize is that as long as I'm fighting fire with fire and nobody else gets hurt, all's fair.
A pause let's some low-level crowd noise in. The reaction is small, but positive.
Sarge: I'm a different guy than I used to be. I didn't change out of frustration or because I was upset. I changed because I know what I'm capable of, and I've found the way to be that same successful guy that I see in the mirror everyday... the guy that you fans see in me!
HUGE POP!
Sarge: Karl Brown found that out the hard way. I respect the hell out of the guy... really, I do... but he severely underestimated me. He had to adjust his plan to include a steel chair, but that failed, too. The man was the greatest Intercontinental Champion in history, but I beat him, making him look ridiculous in the process.
A chant of “SER-GEANT” starts in the crowd.
I made another man look pretty foolish at the last Aggression, too. He said I view the world through rose colored glasses...
Sarge is cut off as the arena lights darken and familiar piano music hits. The beginning strains of Van Halen’s “Right Now” echo throughout the building, and as the first blaring riffs of Eddie Van Halen’s guitar kick in, the lights come up to reveal a very determined looking Troy Douglas, who walks to the ring to the roar of the Tucson crowd, microphone in hand. Douglas steps through the middle rope as the chorus kicks in, the fans echoing the lyrics “RIGHT NOW” and cheering. Troy takes a moment to salute the fans, then turns his attention towards the Intercontinental Champion.
Douglas: Foolish, huh? Maybe so, Sarge. Maybe so.
Maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you finally ditched the rose-colored glasses and are now seeing clearly. Maybe the idealistic, altruistic, All-American boy isn’t quite so sweet and innocent anymore. Congratulations, kid. It only took you a year in this business to grow a pair and realize the world isn’t the shiny, happy place that we all want it to be. You realized that pragmatism and functionality sometimes have their place, that sometimes, the ends do justify the means.
You’re learning now the lessons I’ve been taught time and time again over a career a damn sight longer than yours, kid. You’re learning that sometimes, an eye for an eye is the right policy, especially with the vultures we have to deal with on a day to day basis in that locker room.
You’ve learned, Sarge, and now you’re the EPW Intercontinental Champion. Congrats, kid. You used a steel chair to cheat two better men out of a title they deserve far more than you do.
MASSIVE heat from the crowd.
Douglas: Okay, now I know not all of you are going to like that, but hear me out before you all start calling me the biggest bastard in professional wrestling.
You see, Sarge, you can come out here and say you fought fire with fire, that there was no collateral damage, and that all’s fair in love and war and whatever other tired cliché you want to pull out of mothballs to make your point, but you can’t deny the truth. When it all gets boiled down, you can’t deny the facts of the matter.
Because for all you say you respect the hell out of Karl Brown, your actions give away your intentions. You were willing to do whatever you had to do to take that belt from him, including throwing out the rulebook. And, like I’ve already said, that’s fine.
But if that’s the greatest feeling of your life, knowing what you had to do in order to get there, then you’ve got a conscience a little less aggressive than my own, kid. Because I’ve been down that road too. I’ve said far too many times that I’m going to do whatever’s necessary, damn the rulebook and the praise of all these people out here, I’m going to get what’s coming my way.
But, you know what happened, Sarge? Every single time, that came back and bit me right in the ass.
So, I figure it’s high time for another lesson, kid. This time, I’ll do the teaching, and you’ll learn what I’ve known for a long time.
Karma’s a *****.
Fan reaction becomes mixed. Sarge raises his eyebrows.
Sarge: Karma? You've got some twisted logic... I'll give you that much. You're trying to stand there and convince everyone, myself included, that I somehow have an illegitimate title reign simply because I used the very means originally turned against me to secure the victory?
There is a reason why these fans cheer me. To insinuate that I've turned my back on them is not only ludicrous, but makes you out to be the man that you are... a man that is full of crap.
Moderate POP from the crowd.
Sarge: But, I know that you didn't come out here to simply call into question my integrity. You want this belt right here, and you're upset that part of the reason I have this title in my possession is due to the fact I powerbombed you to the arena floor.
The crowd gives a collective “oooh!”, which prompts Douglas to raise the mic to his lips. Sarge cuts him off...
Sarge: Hold up, hold up, hold up! I know you came out here to spoil my party - great job, by the way – but I'm going to make this simple so that you can leave happy, the crowd can celebrate with me, and I can get you out of my face.
You go back there and talk to Dan Ryan or whoever the hell you need to talk to.
Make the match whatever you need it to be.
Make the match happen whenever you need it to happen.
Just escort yourself away from my celebration, and don't come back until we are able to legally settle this dispute in the center of the ring.
Hit the music!
“We Right Here” by DMX blares over the arena speakers. The crowd let's loose with a huge POP!
Sarge is shown celebrating in the ring with the Intercontinental Championship held high in the air, while Troy Douglas exits the ring with a humongous smile on his face.