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AGGRESSION 32: Dallas, Texas - 10/15/07

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Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
[The lights dimmed, as the EPW logo on the EMPIRE-tron flashes and turns into dark clouds, with low rumbles of thunder, and loud bursts of lightning blasting through the entire arena, shocking some of the fans in the audience, while others -- mostly, the children in attendance -- attempt to cover their ears, in hopes of shielding themselves from the impact.

"I've been through it all ... the failures, the falls, I'm like Niagra.
But, I got right back up, like Viagra.
I am Agriculture...
... swagger so mean it might insult ya."

The EMPIRE-tron shifts from clouds to that of EPW Superstar, "XXX" Sean Stevens, in an unfamiliar almost vulnerable state -- filmed from the waist up, naked, chest bare, EPW World Heavyweight Championship draped over his shoulder.

Oh, father, will tonight be my last?
... and, if so, make sure my kid sees my cash.
I know, I'm solid like an elbow cast.
And, my future will be better than my past.

The voice pauses for about ten seconds, before the drum heavy battle cry "Love Me or Hate Me," by Lil Wayne begins playing over the PA system, as the 'Blue-Eyed Badass' steps through the curtain, EPW World Championship around his waist, dressed in faded blue jeans, and a white with black trim "Planet Earth's Champion" t-shirt. Walking from one side of the stage to the next, Sean took his World title from around his waist, raising it in the air, to a warm reception, before making his way down to the ring, as the chorus played in the background.
"You can love me or hate me...
... I swear it won't Make Me or Break Me."

Once inside of the ring, Sean walks to the nearest turnbuckle, climbs it, and looks into the crowd, pointing at the few signs of the fans there to support him. Suddenly, the music begins to fade, and Sean hops down, signalling for a microphone, as a small "Triple ECKS" chant starts up.

Sean paused, waiting for the cheers to die down, before lifting the mic up to his mouth and speaking in it.]

STEVENS: I bet there are a lot of people out there -- my enemies, specifically -- that are just waiting for another Sean Stevens 'I Told You So' speech. And, I'll be honest with you, ever since I beat Lindsay Troy and Joey Melton to become the EPW World Heavyweight Champion, I had been TRYING to write one. I wanted to tell everyone that doubted me, to kiss my ass with their tongues. I wanted to rub this -- MY world championship -- in their faces, and make them REGRET ever questioning my ability, my sanity, and my reasoning for coming back to wrestling. I wanted to express to each and every one of YOU -- the fans -- how much of a mistake you made choosing Ice Tre, JA, and all of the other fan favorites over a man that literally gave his blood, sweat, and tears so that you wouldn't feel cheated.

[Slight boos echoed.]

STEVENS: And, I tried ... but, then a day went, and I had nothing. I chalked it up to excitement ... to leftover nerves ... all the way down to jubilation. But, whatever it was, for whatever reason, that day turned into two days, and two days turned into a week, and I still couldn't DO it, I still had NOTHING. So I sat back, and I thought about it, I racked my brain, and came to the only conclusion that I could come to."

"At every single Aggression since I mangled Ice Tre's face, you people have booed me out of the building. At WrestleSTOCK, you people let it be known that I was NOT your choice for King of the Cage. Hell, Lindsay Troy even co-signed JA, by coming to ringside and doing commentary DURING one of his King of the Cage matches, because it was assumed that he'd be the guy to win it all and face her. But, then I beat him, and from there, I went to Russian Roulette, as somebody who was somewhat of an underdog. As somebody who MOST CERTAINLY wasn't an internet blog favorite, as somebody who wasn't a crowd favorite, and as somebody who quite possibly could make the case as one of the most UNPOPULAR people in that lockerroom. And, with all of that going against me ... I still did it.


STEVENS: I went in there, and did the unthinkable, the impossible, and I captured the most coveted World title in the game, and you people ... Cheered. I made no mystery of my return to the game. I made it crystal clear that I wanted to retire on top of the world, as champion. But, when you people started booing me, I made a silent vow that I'd stick around to make your lives a living hell for not appreciating what I was doing. But, you showed me something at Russian Roulette ... you showed me that despite the boos, and name calling, you RESPECT me."

"And, that's all I EVER wanted."

"So I might not go down in history as the greatest EPW Champion of all time. I might not be mentioned in the same breath as Dan Ryan, Lindsay Troy, or Joey Melton. But, like Frank Sinatra said, "I Did It My Way", and I really don't feel like I have reason to go on any further. To everybody I have hurt, or offended, I apologize -- from Rocko Daymon, to Joey Melton, to the King of the Streets, himself. And, to each and every one of you fans, I know there are those out there that love, and to the rest, maybe you'll love me after you look back on all of the incredible things that I've done, when you judge me by heart and not what's cool. Maybe you'll love me when I Fade To Black."

[Sean dropped the microphone to a stunned/silent response. He exited the ring, no music, no flash, or fanfare. As he stepped through the curtain, EPW Title in hand, he's rushed by a panicked looking Kenny Lombardo -- EPW reporter -- microphone in hand.]

LOMBARDO: TRIPLE X! SEAN! ...what is going on? Are you RETIRING from active competition?!

[Stevens paused, turning to face Lombardo, smiling peacefully.]

STEVENS: I'm on top, Kenny ... that's all I EVER wanted to be. There are a plethora of guys back there who would just LOVE to knock me down a notch. And, as much as I love the competition, I love being the best more, so why would I give them a chance?

[Lombardo stood there, dumbfounded, as Sean continued his trek outside of the arena, inside of a waiting Limo. He entered the limo, as the driver pulled off.]

[Cut back to the broadcast booth]

DT: Well this is a surprise.

DM: You think? The World Champion retires one week after winning the title??

DT: Well, retired or not….we still have a….[Thomas squints and seems thrown off by something] …hey, is there someone in the crowd over there?

[The camera swings around and we catch the glint of something metallic reflecting the arena lights. Rocko Daymon – in the aisles – with a…trashcan?]

MN: I see prostaff got his a position already.

DT: Rocko Daymon is in the crowd, and he’s just going back and forth mingling with fans – and he’s got a trash can with him.

DM: It may be time to call the men in the white suits.

DT: Well nevertheless, it’s time to get underway. Let’s go up to Tony Fatora for the first match of the evening.


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
Short form: Sanket Desai vs. The Raptor

SHORT FORM: Sanket Desai vs. The Raptor

In a battle of two men making their Empire Pro debut it was the Raptor taking the close decision over Sanket Desai. Desai and The Raptor both moves quickly around the ring, countering each other at every opportunity, but it was The Raptor who took control mid-match with a springboard savate kick off an Irish Whip. Moments later he took the win with an arching reverse choke submission off of a missed Bronx Bomb on the mat that caused Desai to tap.

Winner: The Raptor


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
Short Form: Olvir Arsvinnar vs. Cameron Cruise vs. "Dark Phenom" Nakita Dahaka

SHORT FORM: Cameron Cruise vs. Nakita Dahaka vs. Olvir Arsvinnar

This was one of the more uh, entertaining…matches of the night. Cruise and Dahaka tried in vain to double team the massive Viking, who repeatedly simply clubbed them down on the top of their heads and let out random Viking yells, combined with hip thrusts and gyrations ala Rick Rude. Dahaka got smart, going for the legs of the mighty Viking but her attacks had no effect on his mighty legs of granite. In reality, he just no sold this. The end came when Cruise, as ineffective in his attacks as Dahaka was lifted by the Norseman into a gorilla press position and thrown like a lawn dart right at the Dark Phenom. Both went down in a heap and Olvir places his foot on Dahaka’s back, where she lay on top of Cameron Cruise in a pinning position for the three count. There was some discussion over just who would be credited with the pinfall as Dahaka was technically in the pinning position. It was decided the the official winner of the match was Nakita Dahaka, although she hardly seemed to be much of a winner unconscious.

Winner: “Dark Phenom” Nakita Dahaka


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
All the answers you could EVER need

["Did my time" by Korn hits the speakers and some clips of Stalker's matches are shown on the big screen as he makes his way down to the ring.]

MN: Who is this guy again?

DT: Stalker.

MN: Who?

[Stalker slides under the bottom rope and asks for a mic. Looking at the crowd he cracks a grin as they cheer and boo him at the same time.]

Stalker: Well.. well.. well.. Look at this beautiful scene. I got the one side of the popular ones, the cool ones, the rich ones, booing me and I have the other side, the unpopular ones, the hardcore ones, the poor ones cheering me. This is definitely a good night.

[Again a few cheers but more boos can be heard throughout the arena.]

Stalker: I've come here tonight for multiple reasons. First off, I want to gauge everyone's opinion on this matter right here, right now. Who wants more hardcore matches?!?

[No boos this time just a huge load of loud cheers can be heard throughout the arena.]

Stalker: That's what I thought. See.. I am what you would call a hardcore specialist and I feel that putting me in matches, where I can not use whatever means necessary to put someone down is hurting my ability to give this company the viewership it deserves. My usefulness is being flushed down the drain when I'm set up to perform dirty work for the man in charge.

[Running his hand through his hair Stalker leans back into the turnbuckle corner and relaxes a bit.]

Stalker: Now that brings up my second beef. Dan Ryan please by all means use me in a match every week, but from now on, hell it should be tonight stop booking me in matches against people of the likes of Cross and John Miller. I'm sick of it, blah blah, I've only had two televised matches, blah blah, BULL****. You know why? My match against Kin Hiroshi some people consider to be the best match of the year. You know why? I WAS IN IT. I took my knowledge, my abilities, my strength in hardcore wrestling and I put all those pieces together and made it spectacular. Now.. that brings me to my third beef....

[Walking over to the side of the ring Stalker takes a look at the announcers and grins again.]

Stalker: Ryan make sure these idiots know who I am and what I'm capable of ESPECIALLY Mike Neely. I've never seen a moron such as him before, and believe me I've been around Rocko a long time.

[Crowd bursts out laughing while some throw a few boos in here and there.]

Stalker: Lastly, Ryan I want a rematch with Hiroshi. I want it and I want it now. You know I deserve it and after what happened at Russian Roulette I think it's obvious to know I will stop at nothing to get what I want. So I'm asking... no I'm telling you RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW I WANT HIROSHI IN THIS DAMN RING. Now COME OUT HERE AND GIVE HIM TO ME!

[“Zero” by Smashing Pumpkins blares over the arena speakers, and the crowd rises to its feet in unison, roaring for the arrival of the soon again to be owner of Empire Pro Wrestling, “The Ego Buster” Dan Ryan. Following closely, looking a little bored is Anarky. Ryan walks straight to the ring, staring at Stalker who paces back and forth inside. Ryan and Anarky climb the steps and climb into the ring. Stalker backs up a bit, outnumbered, but lifts his chin and holds his ground finally as Ryan takes a microphone.]

Ryan: Thanks for the intro, Reeves. I’m so glad you could make it. I’d like to first announce that as of about five minutes ago, the ink has dried – and I am once again the sole owner of EPW.

[big pop]

Now then, back to Stalker over here. It just so happens, that there is some business to attend to that concerns you. Namely, the number one contendership to the EPW World Championship. Now….as everyone saw at Russian Roulette, JA won the opportunity to face the World Champion at Black Dawn. However, you had a little bit of a hand in the outcome, didn’t you?

[Stalker looks on, a smirk on his face.]

Ryan: Now, I know you want Hiroshi. But, due to your participation in the match at Russian Roulette I believe Kin Hiroshi is owed a little something. So instead of giving you a rematch with Hiroshi, he’ll be going on to a match next week against JA – and the prize will be JA’s spot on the ladder. JA is a firm believer in fair play, so I’m sure he understands the reasoning. If he deserves his spot, he’ll hold onto it.

So, having said that – if you value your health, sir – I would suggest you leave.

[Ryan stares directly at Stalker, whose eyes narrow and seems to get thoughts of an altercation, but he looks at Ryan, at Anarky and then back at Ryan – and thinks better of it, nodding his head with a scowl on his face and climbing out of the ring, making his way to the back.]

Dan Ryan: Now then, one more... small... piece of business. About three apples tall, if memory serves. Hey Bea-

[Just then, the EmpireTron lights up, but the screen is filled with static. Ryan lowers his mic, and turns to face the screen, a curious look on his face.]

MN: What the hell? Can't we afford decent video these days?

[The crowd begins to buzz, and slowly the static fades out, revealing an A1E logo, causing a massive mixed reaction from the crowd, split 70/30 on boos and cheers. Those familiar with the A1E product are obviously in attendance.]

MN: A1E? Why the hell are those rednecks getting time on an EPW show?

DT: I dunno, Neely, but I sure can't wait to see what's going on here! Since when do we have rival wrestling companies interrupting our show?

[The A1E logo fades into a shot of the interior of an office. A rather nice office. Leather furniture, solid oak desk. The latest in technology. Curtains you'd die for. Seated behind the desk, is a man in his late forties, extremely well-dressed, wearing glasses and a blue Armani suit. Dan Ryan instantly recognizes the man, who looks into the camera and speaks.]

Man: Dear fans of Empire Pro Wrestling, I hope that you'll pardon the interruption. For those of you that don't know who I am, my name is Nathan Houston, and I am the Commissioner of A1 Entertainment - or A1E, if you prefer. I'm normally not in the business of interrupting other business' TV shows, but since your esteemed owner, Mr. Dan Ryan hasn't been returning my phone calls, this was my last recourse.

MN: Christ, couldn't you just send a fax? Ever heard of email???

Houston: And how are we this evening, Dan?

Ryan: I’m doing great, Nathan. The wife and kids are good, good job, nice benefits. Good times. And you?

Houston: Ah yes. I see you're in the mood for more than pleasantries. In that case, I'll cut right down to business. As you know, Dan, there's a little matter before us. I'm sure you know - as all your fans know - about the so-called "advertisements" that aired during your broadcast of your PPV show, "Russian Roulette".

Ryan: Of course. What's your point, Houston?

Houston: My point IS, Mr. Ryan, that those advertisements consisted of nothing less than a serious case of defamation against A1 Entertainment. THAT is why I'm here. I'm sure you'll agree that a long, drawn out court case will do nothing for both of our companies. However, you have stated that those actions were not sanctioned by you, however, Mr. Ryan, you ARE responsible for what gets aired on your television broadcasts. You said that you were going to take action. I have seen nothing as of yet. I suggest you take some action *right now*, or MY next action will be of the legal kind. Is that understood?

MN: Who the hell does this guy think he is, barging in here and threatening EPW like that? The NERVE of this guy!

Ryan: Nathan, I’m a big fan of public threats. I really am. I’ve done a few in my time and that was a good one. But in lieu of finding you right now, ripping your head from your shoulders and feeding it to my dog…. [Houston is momentarily shaken, but the businessman in him regains his composure quickly] …let me say that you have impeccable timing. I was just about to announce, in fact that Beastlet has been relieved of his employment with this company. [mixed reactions from the crowd] We are not in business to publically run down other corporations, and his actions are a reflection on myself and the company as a whole. Therefore, as of today his position with Empire Pro Wrestling has been terminated. There will be no more anti-A1E programming on our shows. Is that satisfactory?

Houston: Thank you, Mr. Ryan. I appreciate that. It’s perfectly fine. Again, I apologize for the interruption. Please enjoy the rest of your evening, everyone.

[The EmpireTron blinks out.]

DM: Great, so now A1E dictates what we do around here?

DT: I think the boss was just trying to do the right thing, Deano.

Ryan: And finally – one last piece of business. As you know… [Ryan turns to catch Anarky’s gaze, who looks directly at him] …as Irishred attempted his coup, I created the position of EPW Chairman to counter-act his power base. Now that I’ve regained power, I have no more need for a Chairman.

[a buzz in the crowd]

DT: Uh oh…


Ryan: So for my first act as owner, again – I’m dissolving that office and all the power that goes with it. Anarky, it’s been fun – but we both knew it wouldn’t last forever.

[Anarky motions for a mic of his own.]

Anarky: You know, that’s all I was waiting to hear….

[Anarky drops his mic and begins to move toward Ryan as the crowd goes apesh!t over the possibility of a fight.]

Ryan: Whoa whoa whoa….. [Anarky stops momentarily in his tracks] …don’t think I wasn’t prepared for this eventuality, ‘Nark. Believe me, I’m no fool. So I brought in some…insurance a while back that would insure this transition went as planned.

[Anarky looks on curiously]

Anarky: More midgets, Ryan?

[As Anarky speaks, someone slips in from the crowd, slinks to a corner and covertly climbs a turnbuckle. DOPE.]

Ryan: No midgets. Just him.

[Ryan points at Dope, perched in a corner. Anarky spins around in time for a somersault dropkick to the point of the jaw that sends him flying. Dope immediately springs to his feet and pulls some rolled up wire from the top of his left boot and wraps it around Anarky’s throat, pulling tight and choking the life out of the now-former Chairman.]

DT: What the hell??? What does Dope have against Anarky?? And how can this rookie stand up to a former World Champion and legend like this?? Has Dan Ryan lost his mind?!

DM: I don’t know, Dave but this kid is taking it to Anarky big time!!

DT: When Dan Ryan announced Dope as part of the the group that went to fight in TEAM, it seemed an odd choice…but here it is again, as Ryan has Dope beating the hell out of Anarky!

[Dope continues to pull back, Anarky struggling for breath as Dope now drags him around the ring and tosses him through the ropes, practically hanging Anarky in the process. He continues to pull back until finally releasing and letting Anarky’s body slump to the arena floor. Dope then grabs the top rope and flips himself forward and over, dropping a knee hard into the back of Anarky’s neck, causing him to convulse violently.]

DT: Dear God!! Someone come do something! He’s gonna kill him out here!!

DM: The boss ordered this, Dave! You wanna go try and stop it?!

DT: No, but someone has to do something!!

[Dan Ryan slides out of the ring and walks slowly up the ramp, not looking back. Back at ringside, Dope spits on the back of Anarky and slides back into the ring. Dope climbs the apron and through the mask, you can see the beginnings of a smile starting to form as he reaches back and begins to unlace the mask.]

MN: Take it off!!

DM: I knew you’d say that to a dude one day.

MN: Shut up!

DT: Is he gonna take the mask off?? We’re gonna finally see who this guy is that just laid waste to one of the greats of our sport!!

[Dope gets the last lace untied and slowly lifts the mask up, unfurling some very familiar multicolored hair.]

DT: OH…..MY…….GAWD!!!!

[Neely spits his water all over the announce table, Dean Matthews’ jaw drops in awe and the crowd gasps in surprise as the mask comes all the way off and we see….




DT: Felix Red?! What the hell??? I can’t believe this!!!

DM: Now that’s one face I never thought I’d see in an Empire Pro ring. If you told me this was coming, I would’ve called you a liar!

DT: For our fans who don’t understand what’s going on here – we know you know who these two guys are, but for the uninitiated – Anarky and Felix Red have had bad blood for years, constantly fighting and feuding with one another all over the world, but to bring this to EPW – I’m just speechless!!

DM: Never let it be said that the boss doesn’t prepare.

[Felix smiles that half grin cocky smile and finally climbs down, exits the ring and gives Anarky one final stomp as paramedics rush to ringside to attend to the falled former Chairman. Felix simply walks on, heading up the ramp to the back, only occasionally looking out into a now booing crowd.]

DT: Folks, we need a moment to collect our thoughts – what an amazing turn of events, from the announcement of the number one contender situation to Nathan Houston interrupting, to the arrival or rather – the revealing – of Felix Red. Folks we’ll be right back after a brief break.


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
"Yours Truly" Adam Benjamin vs. "Phenomenal" Frankie Scott

TF: The following match is scheduled for one fall! Making his way to the ring from the United Kingdom, weighing in at two hundred and forty-five, ADAAAAAAM BEEEENJAAAMIN!

["Final Countdown" by Euro begins to blast as "Yours Truly" Adam Benjamin makes his way slowly to the ring. Adam is all business as he ignors the fans and slides into the ring.]

DM: Here’s Adam Benjamin – is it possible to be more arrogant than this man?

MN: I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but did I hear that right? Did he really walk all the way from the UK to make it to the show?

DT: Would you stop it? At any rate, while I might not personally like Benjamin’s anti-American views, I can certainly appreciate his talent.

MN: And who wouldn’t? You can make the argument that he’s the best technical wrestler in the world today, and that’s no lie. Frankie Scott might be in just a touch over his head.

TF: And his opponent, wrestling out of Atlanta, Georgia, he weighed in tonight at just under two hundred and forty-three pounds, he is PHENOMENAL FRAAAAAANKIIEEEEEEEE SCOOOOOOOTTT!

[“Phenomenon” by Thousand Foot Krutch plays over the arena speakers. A full video rolls on the huge titantron of Frankie wrestling stars like Dan Ryan and the Sergeant, doing an interview and signing autographs. Fans cheer loudly as “Phenomenal” Frankie Scott runs out and stops in the middle of the runway looks back at the video and then points toward the fans as pyrotechnics blow all around him. Scott emerges from the smoke to run around the ring and shake all the fans hands. After he finishes, he hops on the ring apron and leaps over the ropes to rush to each turnbuckle for a photo opportunity for the fans.]

DM: Frankie Scott is looking to get back on the right side of the win-loss column here tonight, and it’ll be a tall order, indeed.

MN: He may be phenomenal, but he’ll need a miracle to pull this one out. Benjamin works like a buzzsaw out there. Not exactly the guy you want to meet first when you’re trying to get on a roll.

[Scott and Benjamin meet in center ring as the bell sounds, and circle each other. The lock-up, and after a quick feeling out process Benjamin slams Scott on his back with a deep arm drag. He holds the arm, bars it, and delivers a few elbow shots to the triceps muscle.]

DM: That’s Benjamin’s specialty, picking a specific part of the body and basing his offense around it – nice reversal into a head scissors by Scott – countered immediately back into a side headlock by Benjamin. Benjamin is always right at home when trying to grind it out on the mat, although that reversal shows Scott is no slouch.

MN: There’s no real comparison here, Matthews. Benjamin –

DT: What are you, his manager?

[Scott has by now worked his way to a vertical base, backs up and shoots Benjamin to the ropes]

DM: Lariat from Benjamin catches Frankie Scott right in the chest!

MN: Lariato!

DT: …Right. And here’s Benjamin, getting right on top of his man and ramming elbows into his face.

MN: Go to work, Benji!

[Benjamin goes to bar the arm again, but Scott is able to block the move and slip behind him. He gets to his feet and applies a rear waist lock into a reverse double-leg takedown.]

DT: Nice move by Scott, both men are quick back to their feet however.

[Scott and Benjamin exchange blows, with Scott getting the better of the exchange. He ducks under a lariat-]

DM: Hangman’s neckbreaker brings Adam Benjamin crashing down!

MN: Nice quick hitting move. Scott is going to need to generate more offense like that to keep Benjamin from taking control.

[Scott lays in a few kicks on his down opponent. He scoops Benjamin up for a suplex, but the attempt is blocked and Benjamin goes for one of his own – Scott slides off the back and goes for a backdrop suplex, but Benjamin shows off his athleticism and flips over to avoid the contact.]

DT: Rapid fire reversals in the early goings.

MN: Scott needs to start hitting these moves, like I said. He can’t afford to trade reversals all day. It’s like playing the Colts and kicking field goals while they score touchdowns. Just doesn’t work!

DM: Adam Benjamin with a nice STO, Scott didn’t see it coming as he charged off the ropes for a forearm smash!

DT: And here’s Benjamin back to work on the arm with a Fujiwara Armbar. Not good ring presence though. Scott grabs the ropes and gets out after only a few seconds.

MN: Benjamin made a mistake, but he’s sticking to his gameplan. Break that arm, baby!

DT: You’re sick, you know that?

MN: If you don’t like it find a new sport to – WHOA!

[That whoa came from Adam Benjamin’s attempt at a Northern Lights being countered in mid-air to a Tornado DDT variant!]

DT: Frankie Scott covers! ONE! TWO! TWO AND A HALF!

DM: How about that, Neely? Impressed with Scott yet?

MN: Bah! Until he can establish his OWN offense, Benjamin will still control the match. The longer is goes like that, the more impossible it’ll be for Scott to pull it out.

DT: Scott with a whip to the ropes – nope, countered and he’s sent to the turnbuckle. Avalanche connects!

DM: He’s not a super-heavywieght, but two forty-five across your chest still takes it’s toll.

[Benjamin goes right to work in the corner. Not one, two, or three, but five S.T.I.F.F. chops to Frankie Scott’s chest. Then a quick left jab, followed with a few shin kicks to the midsection for good measure. Scott stumbles out of the corner in a haze and gets bulldogged in center ring.]

DT: Pin attempt, but it gets barely two!

DM: Adam Benjamin pulls Frankie Scott to his feet for some more punishment, but look at this! Scott with a flurry of strikes to back him off, and now a discus lariat! Benjamin pops up! And he gets LACED with a dropkick!

DT: Textbook!

MN: Benjamin’s up like a shot – spinebuster sets him right back down!

[Scott heads up to the top rope and leaps off looking for a Flying Elbow Drop]

DT: Nobody home! Scott recovers back to his feet, and gets met with a chop!

[Two more chops from Benjamin, and then a boot to the stomach. Double underhook backbreaker!]

DT: Excellent backbreaker variant, and a cover. Could this be it?

DM: No, just two!
MN: Slow count! Slow count!

[Benjamin sizes a rising Frankie Scott up for the Shining Wizard – he misses!]

DT: Adam Benjamin can’t connect with the Wizard! But here he goes for the Final Countdown, this is it!

[Benjamin gets ready to deliver the flipping piledriver]


MN: No way!


[Frankie Scott rolls out of the ring, happy with the victory. The fans cheer him, and he slaps them five as he heads to the back. Adam Benjamin, on the other hand, is on his knees, staring at the mat in disbelief.]

DT: Adam Benjamin dominated this match nearly from start to finish, but he was just unable to close it out and got caught by a quick pin.

MN: While he didn’t get the result he wanted, Adam certainly knows who really WON this match, you know what I mean? Come on – Frankie Scott could be charged for grand theft if there were any police in this freakin’ desert!

DM: Regardless of your opinion, this was a huge upset for Frankie Scott. Perhaps he’ll be able to parlay this big win into more success?

MN: Speaking of parlays – Green Bay-Washington over or under?

DT: Not on the air, Neely!


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
Trashman Cometh, Cross vs. Stalker, Trashman Cometch Back

DT: Well fans, I’m being told that reporter Mojo Massey in the audience right now with one of our Empire Pro superstars. What’s up, Mojo?

[The EmpireTron lights up, and we see an angle from out in the audience among the fans. We see Mojo Massey standing with the mic. Directly behind him we see a figure clad in a garish Hawaiian shirt with a trash can slung over his shoulder, picking something up off the ground.]

Mojo!: Thanks, Dave! With me right now here among the fans is a man who I’m sure has much to say considering the fallout of Russian Roulette. With me is ROCKO DAYMON!

[Rocko stands up and turns toward the camera, tossing a discarded hot dog wrapper over his shoulder into the garbage can, rather non-chalantly and done with modest enthusiasm. On his forehead we can see a large bandage that covers the wound he open wound he sustained during Russian Roulette, from which he went FULL MUTA!]

Mojo!: Rocko, first of all, there are quite a NUMBER of questions I feel like asking you in regards to everything that happened at Russian Roulette.

Rocko: Questions, huh?

Mojo!: For instance, what are your thoughts on your loss to JA for the number one contendership… or Stalker’s interference… or the World Champion “Triple X” Sean Steven’s subsequent backstage assault?

[A curious yet somewhat devious smile crosses Daymon’s face and he nods to the reporter.]

Rocko: Tell you what, Mojo… ask me those questions some other time when I feel like answering them. For right now, why don’t you just ask the most OBVIOUS question?

Mojo!: Well, okay… Rocko, what ARE you doing with that trash can out here among the fans?

Rocko: It’s funny that you should ask, Mojo. You see, lately I noticed quite a bit of GARBAGE stacking up around Empire Pro. It’s made quite a mess, and it’s made this place look rather unsightly. So I felt like tidying up.

Mojo!: You?

Rocko: Well, I figure since the popular opinion ‘round here is that I AM professional wrestling’s garbage man equivalent, I should be living up to my duties… RIGHT?!

Mojo!: I think the “garbage man” thing was just a metaphor to your career, and not meant to be taken literally.

Rocko: But you see, Mojo, I’ve been taking out the trash throughout my ENTIRE career! Over the past ten years, I’ve been setting the standard of excellence in the ring… separating the weak from the strong. I’m the reason why guys like Kazuo Shizaki and Damian Stone had brief, short-lived stints here in the big leagues, and why other guys go on to become World Champions with seemingly little effort as possible.

[He briefly stops to bend over and pick up an empty cup with what remains of a snowcone.]

Rocko: I suppose the only thing I CAN do at this point is do what I normally do, and clean up all this garbage yet again.

Mojo!: So how much have you picked up so far walking through the arena?

Rocko: Oh, man, look at this stuff!

[The camera zooms in slightly as Rocko holds the open top for the viewers to see the wretched contents of the garbage can.]

Rocko: Mostly a bunch of wrappers… cheeseburgers, popcorn and the like. Got some real nasty stuff in there too, like moldy nachos and melted ice cream bars. I just KNOW there’s a diaper down there somewhere, and I think I spotted a used condom on top of a mold-encrusted pizza slice in there…

Mojo!: My God… you found all that just here in the seats?

Rocko: Well, no, not exactly… I did have to dig through a dumpster… and a few lockers, for the more nasty stuff. Don’t ask what I got out of Beau Michaels’…

Mojo!: Where’s Caitlyn, your wife?

Rocko: Oh, I’m sure she’s around here somewhere…

Mojo!: Well, Rocko, I have no idea what the point of all this is, but… I hope by the end of the night, you find some sort of satisfaction in whatever it is you’re trying to accomplish.

Rocko: Consider that hope to be a REALITY later tonight!

Mojo!: Right…

[We go back to the guys at commentary, looking puzzled.]

DM: It’s finally happened. Rocko has snapped. Sean Stevens has finally pushed him over the edge, and the man has succumbed to a deep schizophrenic rant-crazy madness!

DT: I’m not sure what to make of that, but I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of Rocko Daymon tonight. And considering everything that happened to him at Russian Roulette, I’m not sure WHAT he’s capable of doing…

MN: And what the hell was up with that flower shirt? GAWD… what an ugly shirt…

DT: You’re one to talk, Mike. You’ve got an entire WARDROBE of shirts just as ugly as that!

MN: Hey, HEY! They compliment my hair, and I’m a ******* PIMP in those clothes…

DT: Yeah, whatever… let’s move on to the next match. And speaking of the next match, we’ve learned that former superstar John Miller, who was scheduled to make his big return here tonight has REFUSED his booking!! Can you believe that?

DM: He’s not one to be put into situations to fight another man’s personal grudge. John Miller taking a stand and refusing to be part of Dan Ryan’s plot. That’s the John Miller I know.

MN: Whoopie!! Didn’t realize that bonehead was capable of making a decision for himself.

DT: Why do you even speak sometimes?

MN: What? Don’t make me get up and…

["Did my time" by Korn blares over the speakers as black hits the big screen. Stalker walks out slowly staring at the ring cracking his knuckles as he makes his way down the ramp. In his usual street attire he slides under the bottom rope and gets ready for his match.]

TF: This match is for one fall Introducing first…from Seattle, Washington and weighting in at two hundred twenty four pounds..Stalker!!!

MN: *Yawn* Should be a “GREAT” matchup!

DT: Just zip it…
Suddenly the lights in the arena fall to darkness as the crowd lets out a gasp of excitement.

MN: Someone tell Ryan to start paying the bills.

DM: Mike, Get your hand off my…

[The lights come back on and Cross stands behind Stalker in the ring.]

DT: Cross is in the ring and the crowd is going nuts. Stalker quickly spins around is caught with a boot the midsection and then a left right combination that sends him to the mat. Cross waits for Stalker to get to his feet and charges with a clothesline again putting Stalker on the mat. Cross drops an elbow to the sternum of Stalker.

DM: Stalker is on the offensive quickly tonight

MN: Someone needs to tell him to cheer up!

DT: Cross pulls Stalker up to his feet but Stalker pokes Cross in the eye.

MN: I think we found the fourth Stooge

DT: Stalker takes this opportunity to kick at Cross’s right knee and then to follow it up with a vicious chop block, causing Cross to stumble to the mat. Cross uses the ropes to get up and Stalker kicks out his knee from under him. Stalker locks on a step over toe hold, applying pressure to the knee of Cross.

DM: Smart move, Taking Cross’s legs out nullifies the big man.

MN: Thank you, Captain Obvious

DM: One of these days I’m..

MN: Sure you are.

DT: Stalker leans into the hold, applying more pressure. Cross reaches up suddenly and grabs Stalker rolling him over into a small package. One..Two..Kick out by a stunned Stalker. Stalker rolls out of the ring, collecting himself as Cross slowly gets up to a vertical base, not putting much pressure on his right knee.

DM: I’m betting Stalker is wishing he had John Miller down here helping him out.

MN: what a waste of a wish.

DM: What?

MN: Um..Nothing

DT: Stalker slowly makes his way up the ring steps and back into the ring. Both me circle each other, staring each other down. Stalker throws a hand up in the air as if challenging Cross to a test of strength. A smirk comes to Cross face as he interlocks his hand with Stalker and then does the same with the other. Both men struggle to get an advantage and suddenly the momentum starts going in Cross’s direction and Stalker kicks him in the midsection gaining the advantage.

MN: He just fell for the oldest trick in the book. *laughs*

DM: I’ll have to agree with you Mike on that one.

MN: Of course you have to agree with me. I’m always right.

DT: Cross drops to a knee an then lunges forward picking up Stalker in a modified fireman’s carry and drives him to mat. Both men lay motionless on the mat. Cross is the first to move and uses the ropes to get up and ascends to the top rope, he stands perched waiting for Stalker to get to his feet and comes off with a flying clothesline that connects. Cross rolls Stalker over and goes for the pin. One..Two..Stalker gets a foot on the bottom rope.

DM: So close

DT: Cross pulls up Stalker and whips him into the far ropes, but Stalker comes off with drop kick to Cross’s left knee. Cross falls to the mat griping his knee . Stalker again goes for the step over toe hold, but Cross is able to kick him off into the referee, the referee is down.

MN: Guess that’ll teach the ref to stand that close again.

DM: What are you talking about Mike, he was doing his job.

MN: And now he’s unconscious.

DT: Sometimes I wonder why I deal with you two.

DM: What is Stalker doing?

MN: He left the ring, Maybe he’s bored with the match?

DT: No he’s grabbed the time keepers chair and slides in the ring as Cross is slowing getting up to his feet.

DM: Remember what he did at Russian Roulette with that chair?

MN: No.

DT: Stalker stalks after Cross and cocks back the chair but doesn’t notice as Kin Hiroshi jumps over the security railing and slides into the ring. Kin yanks the chair out of Stalker’s hand and catches stalker with a thunderous chair shot as he turns around. Stalker crumbles to the mat. Kin tosses the steel chair on the mat and pulls up Stalker and DDT’s him on the chair. Kin rolls out of the ring and pulls the chair out with him.

DM: I guess that’s what Kin would call payback.

MN: Yeah, one of these days you’ll get yours.

DM: Did you say something, Neely?


DT: Cross gets up and pulls up Stalker and hits the Golgotha just a the referee comes around. Cross goes for the cover and gets the one…two..three.

MN: Cross has defeated Stalker.

DM: Really? Thanks Sherlock

MN: I’m gonna…

[Dean shoots Neely a look]

MN: …uhh…get something to drink.

[Dean just shakes his head]

TF: Winner of the match….. CROSS!!!!!…

DT: Cross makes a triumph return to the ring. However one would wonder what the outcome would be if Kin Hiroshi wouldn’t have come down to intervene.

DM: Cross has left the ring and Stalker is starting to stir in the ring. Stalker has rolled over and grabs the bottom rope and looks out and sees Kin Hiroshi standing at the top of the ramp, waving back at Stalker. A look of pure hatred comes to Stalker’s face as Kin finally leaves the area.

MN: Wait a minute… a figure just emerged from BENEATH the RING! Who is that?!


DM: The b*tch is BACK! And what’s that in her hand?

DT: Is that…

…a TASER?!

[The audience reacts with jolting SURPRISE as Caitlyn slides into the ring. Stalker doesn’t see her coming as she drives the black rectangular object in her hand into the small of his back and jams down on the switch. Stalker JERKS VIOLENTLY and collapses at her feet!]

DT: OH MY GOD!! Caitlyn Daymon just ZAPPED Stalker with a taser! She should put a CRIPPLING amount of electrical voltage through the human body, and Stalker is just lying MOTIONLESS on the mat…

MN: You make it sound like it’s the secret eighth deadly sin, Dave. Every cop in America is practically doing this on a daily basis these days…

DT: Oh my God, she’s HITTING HIM WITH THE TASER again! Stalker is just flailing recklessly on the mat!

[Caitlyn kicks him once while he is down, and a booming voice rings through the confusion, cutting through the shock of the audience like a perfectly honed dagger slicing the soft underbelly.]




[The spotlight hits a section in the seats, and falls on ROCKO DAYMON standing in the aisle, still carrying that damn trash can, and still wearing that damn flower shirt. The crowd lets out an undecidedly mixed pop.]

Rocko: Jason Reeves… my old friend… how nice to see you again. So unfortunate we had to reacquaint ourselves under these circumstances.

[He begins to make his way down the steps toward the barricade.]

Rocko: But let me ask you something… did you REALLY think I’ve been ignoring you this entire time? Do you think I haven’t noticed you dropping my name on the mic at every given opportunity, trying to wake this sleeping giant? Did you really think I wouldn’t DO anything about it?

[He comes to the barricade and sets the garbage can on the other side before hopping it and beginning to circle the ring.]

Rocko: Seeing as how just about everybody here is in the dark right now… allow me to fill all of you in with a brief history lesson. Many years ago, Stalker and Rocko Daymon met in the ring back in a federation that nobody remembers, fighting for a title that nobody cares about anymore. In that Last Man Standing match… a young, bright-eyed Jason Reeves put up the fight of his life… and ultimately went DOWN for the ten count, and yours truly walked away the better man with that belt on his shoulder.

[He stops briefly and points to the commentary table.]

Rocko: Hey Mike, you done with that chili dog?

MN: Huh? Oh… yeah, I suppose.

Rocko: Let me get that out of your way…

[Rocko reaches over and tosses the half eaten chili dog into his waste receptacle and moves on the commentators look among each other, puzzled.]

Rocko: Nobody here remembers that match… except the two of us. It’s been seven years since then… and no longer do I carry any title on this shoulder. But for some reason, this single, forgotten match from so long ago has been resurrected and unwillingly dragged and exhibited to the public eye. For some reason, this one, tedious title match has delayed you, the fans, from receiving the TRUE World Heavyweight Champion you deserve!

DM: This guy still wants the title? Lord in Heaven, help us!

[Rocko sets the trash can onto the apron and enters, pulling his load over the ropes with him. He nods to Caitlyn.]

Rocko: Thank you for your help, my caramel-glazed Granny Smith apple. Wait for me in back.

[Caitlyn nods and exits the ring, going back up the ramp. Confidently, Rocko walks over to the fallen body of his enemy, dragging the trash can with him.]

Rocko: Poor, poor Jason… I had really hoped you would have licked your wounds and moved on. I hoped you wouldn’t become absolutely obsessed over the matter and come back to haunt me years later. For your sake and for my own, because… well, let’s just say I have this nasty habit of getting screwed over by the most untalented of people at the most inappropriate of times.

[He shakes his head sadly.]

Rocko: But I suppose I put my trust in the wrong person. I trusted a complete *failure* like you to be exactly what you are not, and now I’m paying for that mistake seven years later. And now that you’ve willingly put yourself in between me and the title, you’ve gone and earned yourself an ass-kicking so big, you’ll wish you would have stayed under the bridge in Seattle eating out of dumpsters and living in your own filth.

[He points down to Stalker, though Stalker is in too much agony to truly see anything at the moment.]

Rocko: But lucky for you, Jason… I’m not gonna give it to you… yet. Reason is that I know it’s exactly what you want. You came back to get your revenge… to beat me one on one in that big, climactic, end-all be-all slobber-knocker for the strap. You see, I know you’ve got this wet dream to ride on the coattails of guys like me and Kin Hiroshi to get yourself into the title picture… and that’s only gonna happen over my dead body. But who knows… maybe you’ll get your wish. But it’s not going to be tonight, Stalker, and it’s not going to be any time soon… not until that World Title is around my waist.

[He turns toward the audience.]

Rocko: Tonight, I came here to clean up all the garbage that I find around here in Empire Pro for the LAST TIME. It’s something I’ve done practically my entire career… being nothing but a man that takes out losers like THIS PIECE OF SH*T IN THE RING so certain other lazy c*cksuckers can sneak on by without having the balls to BEAT ME LIKE A MAN!!

I’ve been busting my ASS for you people over the greater part of the last decade. At Russian Roulette, I bled a F*CKING PINT OF BLOOD, and what did I get? I got SCREWED by this pr*ck because he can’t get over the fact that he lost a match! I got my ass kicked backstage when I was coming back, sore, beaten, and exhausted, and watched my WIFE become the victim of a sexual assault!

And I’m done with it. As of right now, I’m tired of f*cking around…

[He picks up the garbage can and approaches the body of Stalker.]

Rocko: I leave it all to you, Jason. And I leave YOU behind.

[He overturns the trash can and DUMPS ITS CONTENTS over Stalker’s incapacitated body! Half of Stalker is suddenly buried beneath a pile of crinkled paper and plastic and numerous repugnant things. The audience RETCHES in unison!]

DT: Oh my, what an INSULT to Stalker! He just dumped that ENTIRE TRASH CAN over him! Do you guys remember what was IN that thing?!

DM: I don’t even want to think about it. Just being this close to that garbage in the ring makes me want to vomit…

MN: Man, I can smell it from here! …is that Chinese food?!

DM: I was talking about Rocko and Stalker, but… eh, nevermind.

[Rocko picks up the mic again, looking rather pleased with his action.]

Rocko: You look right at home, Jason. Now you can deal with the same kind of sh*t I’ve put up with for the past decade. In the meantime, I’m moving on to more important things. You might have chosen the number one contender, but I’ll be DAMNED if I don’t go into Black Dawn with a shot at that title!

And I will NOT let anyone get in my way!

[Violently, Rocko THROWS the steel trash can onto Stalker’s face, causing the hurt man to WINCE violently. “Death Is This Communion” hits the PA and Rocko exits the ring to an extremely undecided reaction.]

DT: Rocko Daymon has just RETALIATED against Stalker for his interference at Russian Roulette! And he did it in the most vicious, demeaning way I can possibly imagine!

DM: He’s bonkers. Somebody had just better put him out of his misery.

MN: The MAN isn’t crazy… he’s just really, REALLY pissed off. And if what happened to him happened to you at the Pay Per View, I think you’d feel the same way. Granted, I wouldn’t expect you to since it’s widely known you have a tiny johnson…

DM: I could COCKSLAP you from here if I wanted to, Neely!

DT: We now know how Rocko Daymon intends to deal with his old foe, Stalker, and now we know what links these two men together… a title match from long ago. But now Daymon—ugly flower shirt and all—has opted to leave this distraction behind and continue his journey to earn a shot at the World Title… and opportunity that’s slipped through his fingers time and time again! But is he TRULY putting his foot down this time?

DM: The man got beat at Russian Roulette. Sounds like he should listen to his own advice on “getting over” things.

DT: Considering Dan Ryan’s announcement tonight on the number one contender, I have a feeling that the World Title picture is going to be getting particularly interesting over the course of time leading up to Black Dawn. But we’ve got more action on the way, so stay tuned fans!


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
James Irish (c) vs. Simply Beautiful - EPW TV Title

DT: Well guys, the commercials ran just a tad long so we’ve got Irish and Beautiful standing toe to toe in the middle of the ring already, and this one is for the EPW Television Title. This should be an excellent match up.

MN: Yeah I have a feeling this newcomer, to EPW, Andrew Rossi is going to give Irish a run for his money.

DM: Well.. the bell rings and we are off.

DT: Irish steps up first taking a swing with his right hand at Rossi and he backs up slightly.. smiling at the same time.. dancing around Irish and he moves in.. they lock up.. Irish with an elbow and the upper hand as he whips Rossi into the ropes. Beautiful comes running back and is met with a stiff chop across the chest.

MN: Love tap.

DM: Shut up. Irish follows that up by grabbing hold of Rossi 's head and locks him into a headlock. Working his neck over as he uses his other hand to lay blows across Rossi 's back. Irish again whips Rossi into the ropes... Rossi comes back and Irish meets him with a dropkick. Irish quick to follow it up with an elbow drop across his chest.

MN: Boring....

DT: It just started... and Irish looks to try and wear down the Rossi.

DM: Yeah he's working the boots to him now.

MN: Like I said, boring.

DT: Well.. the fans don't seem to think so.. they're still here.

MN: That's cause I haven't left yet.

DT: Whatever... Irish picks Rossi up by the hair and walks him over to the turnbuckle. Irish... slams Rossi 's head into the top turnbuckle.. again.. and again... and.. wait.. Rossi throws his leg up stopping this last one. Nails Irish in the gut with an elbow and grabs a hold of Irish and slams him into the opposite corner. Rossi charges in.. LARIAT!

MN: Wow.

DM: Irish almost had his head ripped off with that move. Rossi.. taking control now whips Irish into the other corner and AGAIN another massive lariat this one directly into Irish's throat. Irish slumps to the mat and Rossi drags him out of the corner and applies a chokehold that get's the ref's attention.

MN: Oh come on.. it was just a choke.

DT: That's the point. The ref is making Rossi back off and he does but quickly comes back with an elbow drop across Irish's neck. Rossi picking up Irish by the hair now throws him against the ropes.. Rossi charges in.. spins... OHHH.. good lord.. Rossi spun and nailed Irish flush against the neck and a stiff elbow.

MN: He's really working him over at this point.

DM: Rossi kicks Irish and flips him around and applies an elevated boston crab.

MN: I heard he calls that the Manhattan Crab.

DM: For some reason you knowing that doesn't surprise me.

DT: Could it be that it has to do with food? Anyways.. the ref is checking on Irish and Rossi is now applying extra pressure and Irish looks to be in severe pain.. but he's not tapping.

MN: OH man he's going to tap I know it.. and Rossi will be the new Television champion!

DM: Don't think so... Irish grabs a hold of the ropes and the ref forces Rossi to break up the hold.

DT: He does and looks to go right back to work on Irish.. picking him up off the mat he hooks him for a suplex.. and Irish with a stiff elbow to the gut, and another.. Rossi stumbles back Irish with a quick hook and a DDT!

MN: Aww.. come on Simply don't let him get away with that!

DM: The move caught Rossi by surprise and he is not moving but neither is Irish.. the ref is now giving them the standing 10 count.. both now are slowly stirring.. Rossi is to the ropes now and is using them to pull himself up.. Irish is to his knees and looks exhausted.. Rossi comes charging at Irish with a boot but Irish blocks the incoming blow and sends Rossi stumbling to the mat.

DT: Irish picks himself up and Rossi is getting to his feet now full of energy. Irish with a quick punch, and a hook... Jumping... SPINNING DDT!

MN: I wasn't expecting that outta him.

DM: Irish looks full of energy now as he climbs atop the top turnbuckle.. he's waiting for Rossi to get up.. he does... Irish with a missle drop kick! Both men are out!

DT: I'm surprised that Irish had that in him after taking the early beating he received... Irish rolls over and drapes an arm across Rossi... 1....2...NO! Rossi gets his shoulder up.

MN: That's good.. now get up Andrew!

DT: Irish is up to his feet first.. he picks up Rossi by his arm.. hooks him from the back.. GERMAN SUPLEX.. he holds it for the pin... 1.....2....NO! Rossi with another kickout!

DM: James Irish definitely looks frustrated.. He grabs Rossi up by the hair.. hooks him for a double under hook DDT.. but Rossi charges Irish into the turnbuckle.. and SLAMS his shoulder into him again.. he then hooks Irish... BRAINBUSTER SUPLEX! Rossi goes for the cover.. 1.....2....3NO!! Irish barely got his shoulder up on that one.. And Rossi is upset! He is in the ref's face demanding to know why he is not the T.V. champ right now.

MN: He should be asking that question.. that was a slow count.

DT: Well he better pay attention to Irish.. Irish is on his knees and he sees Rossi arguing with the ref he crawls over to him.. IRISH WITH
A ROLL UP ON ROSSI! 1.....2.....3!!! He got the pinfall! IRISH AND ROSSI ARE BOTH IN SHOCK! The ref comes over and raises Irish's hand after the bell..

DM: What a match.. that was definately a close one.... OH NO! Rossi with a clothesline across the back of Irish's head. Andrew Rossi is definately upset with the match's outcome and he's taking it out on Irish with kicks to the back of the head. The ref tries to break it up but Rossi just pushes him off. Irish is taking a beating in the middle of the ring..

MN: He deserves it.. Rossi was robbed of this match..

DT: Well The Sarge certainly doesn't think so! He charges the ring and Rossi sees him and scatters out the back way.. makes his way around the ring and up the ramp to get away from Sarge... Irish is up to his knees now and Andrew Rossi is simply smiling at the both of them as he makes his exit up the ramp way.
Last edited:


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
The Proletariat (c) vs. Chronic Collizion - EPW World Tag Team Titles

DT: We have an interesting tag team match-up on the way. Of course, The Forsaken have been taken out of the equation due to the events involving Dope earlier tonight. But still, on one side, you have the first-ever Empire Pro Tag Team Champions in the Chronic Collision…


DM: Formerly the Crimson Calling.

DT: …right, which of course was the name they went under when they WERE the champions. Of course, their opponents are the CURRENT champions in C.E. Augustus and C.P. Nero, the Proletariat.

DM: Here they come…

[The sound of a flicking lighter... water bubbling... and obnoxious COUGHING heralds the intro to "10001110101" by Clutch. As the music swings into its first bluesy hard rock riff, "The Raging Russian" Ivan Dalkichev storms onto the stage, downing the last of his bottle of vodka, which he immediately SMASHES on the ground and beats his chest with his fist, roaring to the audience! Slinking through the mist behind him is "The Escape Artist" Erik Black, a plume of smoke escaping his lips and holding up “GEEZER” for the fans to see!]

TF: Ladies and gentlemen… the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is for the EPW TAG TEAM TITLES!! Introducing first, now coming to the ring… from Indianapolis, Indiana… weighing in at combined weight of 738 pounds… they are the FORMER Tag Team Champions… HERE ARE… THE CHROOOONIIIIC COOOLLIIIZZZIIOOOONNN!!!

[The pair come face to face at the top of the ramp, flashing each other thumbs up, and make their way down. Dalkichev strides with Norrisean intensity, heading straight for the ring in a drunken stupor, while Black remains in tow, dancing to the music and playing to the fans.]

DM: The two earned their chance to be here after succeeding in a grueling match against the Forsaken and the HPSC. They no longer quite fit the elite image that was the Crimson Calling, to say the least…

DT: Well, love them or hate them, these guys don’t lose often. And the fans LOVE them!

[As they come to the ring, the hulking Dalkichev scales the apron, staggering slightly, and steps over the top rope to enter the squared circle. Black slides inside after him, walking around the ring on his knees while pumping up the audience. At the end of their set, Dalkichev drops to his knees in the center of the ring, holding his arms out to his sides. Black takes position behind him and holds his arms up in a V formation. When viewed from straight on, they form a five-pointed shape similar to a cannabis leaf!]

DT: Can we even show that on the air??

MN: We just did.

[“Break the Silence” by Killswitch Engage blasts over the PA. The audience BOOS profusely!]

TF: And their opponents… weighing in at a combined weight of 554 pounds… they are the EMPIRE PRO TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS… THEY ARE… THE PRROOOLLLEEEETTAAARRRIIAAAATT!!!

[C.P. Nero and C.E. Augustus storm the stage, proudly bearing their titles and taking in the heel heat. After a few moments, they make their way to the ring.]

DT: The Proletariat have come quite far in Empire Pro, going as far as taking the titles for themselves. Tonight will mark their FIRST title defense against a pair of hungry former champions! This will definitely be a sight to see.

MN: Eh, this whole tag division’s been kinda stale since Melton decided to focus on the World Title scene…

DM: Let’s not forget that these guys BEAT Melton.

MN: They didn’t beat anybody, Dean! They simply outsmarted him! He’s only letting them hang onto the belt until HE wants it again!

[Both teams go to their respective corners and hash things out. After a few moments, Black and Augustus step into the ring.]

DT: Erik Black will kick things off for the Chronic Collizion… and C.E. Augustus steps in on behalf of the Proletariat. It’s big man versus little man… which, as we know from history, usually presents one-sided results…

DM: There’s the bell, and here we go! Both men step in… and there’s the lock up! And C.E. Augustus just uses the difference in strength to his advantage and slaps on a textbook headlock onto Erik Black—

DT: But BLACK just slips out of it and dashes back to his corner! There’s a definite difference in strength in this match-up, but there’s also a difference in speed.

MN: You mean blow?

DT: No, I mean—ah, nevermind… both men advancing on each other again. Black should reconsider the lock-up, but—there they go into again! And C.E. Augustus, again with his strength advantage, takes ahold of Erik Black’s arm and puts him into a hammerlock…

DM: And Black FREES his arm and hits the mat! Slides out behind Augustus through his legs… and there’s a One-Inch Punch to the kidney that pushes the Tag Team Champion away!

MN: Slippery devil, ain’t he?

DM: I guess that’s why he prides himself as “The Escape Artist”.

DT: C.E. Augustus can’t keep a grip on Erik Black… and it almost seems as though it’s starting to work it’s way under his skin! I’m not sure if raising a large man’s ire is a WISE thing, but… we’ll see where he’s going with this.

DM: Both men stepping up for the lock-up once again… and Erik Black with a BLATANT kick to the gut of Augustus that doubles the big man over!

DT: Well, that was cheap! And he seems very proud of himself as he turns to the crowd and nods with a grin on his face…

MN: Yeah, but the fans can’t help but LOVE these guys! They’re EPW Hall of Famers, after all!

DM: I don’t think EPW has a “Hall of Fame” yet, Mike.

DT: WHOA!! C.E. Augustus just LUNGES to his feet and levels Erik Black with a CLOTHESLINE that he didn’t see coming!

MN: See? Now wasn’t THAT cheap?

DM: Augustus takes a handful of Black’s greasy hair and drags him to his corner… and there’s the tag to C.P. Nero!

DT: The Tag Team champions are looking to gain a solid foothold on this match by weakening the opposing team’s more fragile member… C.E. August holds Black by the arms, and C.P. Nero just CHOPS him across the chest!

DM: Augustus to the outside as Nero takes Black by the arm and whips him to the ropes… and puts Erik Black RIGHT onto his face with the Drop Toe Hold! Pops to his feet and does a Double Stomp on the back of Black’s head to keep him down!

MN: Gonna take a lot of drugs to shake off THAT hurt…

DT: Who’s hurting? That was simply PAINFUL to watch…

DM: Nero brings Black to his feet… tucks his head down, and there’s the DDT! Nero had good leverage on that…

DT: Could be seeing an easy victory for the champions as Nero makes the cover!



NO!! Erik Black kicks out! Perhaps it won’t be easy after all!

DM: Nero makes the tag back to the fresh man, C.E. Augustus. We saw what his strength did to this man earlier…

DT: And now he may just very well turn him into a pretzel! There’s the whip to the ropes… and he goes for the Back Body—but Black LEAPFROGS and hits the other set of ropes… and Augustus turns right into a JUMPING CRESCENT KICK from Erik Black that sends the big man reeling!

[Crowd POPS!]

DM: Black back on his feet… nails a recovering Augustus with a SIDEKICK to the middle, and now he’s got him by the head!

DT: And Erik Black JUMPS off the turnbuckle, and brings C.E. Augustus DOWN with a Tornado DDT! Wonderful agility and spontaneity on that move… and it may pay off as Erik Black goes for the pin!


NO! He’s simply PRESSED off by C.E. Augustus!

MN: He says, “Away, pesky fly!”

DM: Augustus on his feet, goes to his corner to tag in Nero. Black rolls over to his own corner and makes the tag… and now stepping over the ropes comes the GIANT Ivan Dalkichev!

DT: The man practically has his own center of gravity!

DM: Nero pounces ahead and LAYS into the big man with a shoulder block, and Ivan simply bats him away like a fly! Nero back up and a standing dropkick leaves Dalkichev reeling back… and Ivan fires back with a HUGE clothesline—and Nero narrowly ducks out of the way!

MN: PHEW!! Nearly shaved off his hair with that one…

DT: Dalkichev coming back with a backhand that Nero quickly avoids. There’s definitely a lot of size and power in that man, but it comes at the cost of mobility. C.P. Nero is practically wrestling circles around him!

DM: Nero with the waistlock from behind… goes for a German Suplex, but Ivan doesn’t budge!!

DT: What the hell is he thinking?

MN: I thought the fatass was choking and he was just applying the Heimlich maneuver.

DT: Dalkichev reaches over his shoulder and SWATS Nero to the mat with a Snapmare! The Raging Russian to his feet, and he hits the ropes looking for a BIG SPLASH, but Nero quickly rolls out of the way!

DM: The giant has him on the rung! C.P. Nero runs into the ropes… bounces back with a CROSS-BODY BLOCK—but IVAN DALKICHEV reverses it into a Fallaway Slam that damn near tosses Nero clear over the ropes and to the outside…

DT: Nero struggling to his feet… but as soon as he’s up, Ivan Dalkichev’s MASSIVE HANDS find him! Dalkichev with a BIG SAMBO SUPLEX that nearly breaks the arena in half with C.P. Nero’s body!

MN: Man, I bet everybody in the city felt that! I bet my EX-WIFE felt that back home!

DM: Mike, you don’t have a home… and I’m sure it’s the first thing your ex-wife’s felt in a LONG time!

MN: Kiss my ass, Dean!

DT: Dalkichev with the cover…



NO!! Broken up by C.E. Augustus, who quickly goes back to the apron.

DM: Seemed to be a necessary run-in. I don’t think C.P. Nero knew what he was getting into the second that monster stepped over the ropes.

DT: The Raging Russian did a number on him… that’s for certain. He needs to make a tag. But Dalkichev bringing Nero off the mat, and he’s got his head locked into a vice-grip… and Nero pounds back with an elbow to the gut! He escapes the hold, and dives for his corner… and THERE’S THE TAG to C.E. Augustus!

[Crowd POPS at the sight of both teams respective large men entering the squared circle.]

DM: Aha! Now it’s Big Man versus Big Man! A powerhouse like C.E. Augustus might have enough to handle the goliath that is Ivan Dalkichev. C.E. Augustus steps in with a CHOP across the chest of Ivan Dalkichev…

DT: …and it’s like the Russian is even phased! Dalkichev strikes back with a CHOP of his own… and Augustus just shrugs it off! Augustus with another… and DALKICHEV… and AUGUSTUS… both men trading chops back and forth and making each others’ chests red!


DM: Dalkichev with a BIG RIGHT puts Augustus down to a knee… and C.E. Augustus comes back with a JAWBREAKER that nearly knocks Dalkichev onto his back! Augustus on his feet… and SCOOP SLAMS the giant!!

DT: MY GOD, what power!! He just body slammed over 500 pounds of Raging Russian in the center of the ring!

DM: Unbelievable. Looks like it took every bit of his strength to pull that off as now he collapses to the mat next to Dalkichev. That’s the problem with going for the slams on big guys… you use up your strength all at once.

MN: COVER HIM, you pinko moron!!

DT: Augustus rolls over and drapes the arm over the chest…



NO!!! Broken up by Erik Black, who dove into the ring at the last second with a Slingshot Dropkick over the back of the head of C.E. Augustus!

DM: C.P. Nero is none too happy about that as he storms into the ring and confronts Black… and now there’s a shoving match between the two of them as the referee struggles to keep control! I tell ya, if those guys know what’s good for them, they better get back to the outside.

DT: OH MAN! Erik Black just BLINDSIDES C.P. Nero with a right hand, and follows through with an IMPLANT DDT that leaves him limp on the mat! The referee is losing his patience now, but Black just blows him off and helps his partner to his feet. He better get out of the ring, or they’ll be disqualified.

DM: I’d hate to see them lose their chance at becoming two-time champions because they couldn’t obey standard tag rules!

MN: If they haven’t figured it out by now, then they don’t DESERVE to be champions!

DT: The Chronic Collision bring C.P. Nero to his feet, and the two of them THROW him over the ropes to the outside! Well, that’s HALF of the problem solved, but now the referee is demanding that Black follow!

DM: Meanwhile, C.E. Augustus getting to his feet… and there’s the BULL RUSH to Erik Black—who quickly DODGES by sliding out of the ring—!!

DT: And C.E. Augustus COLLIDES into the midsection of Ivan Dalkichev, ramming him into the corner—and OH MY GOD the referee got caught in between the giant and the corner!!


MN: Now would you call that a Commie-Chronic Collizion??

DT: C.E. Augustus takes Ivan by the head and TOSSES him through the ropes to the outside… and now he follows! This match is SERIOUSLY beginning to get out of hand! The referee is out, and now the match is spilling outside of the ring! C.E. Augustus doing a number on Ivan Dalkichev… and Erik Black brings C.P. Nero to his feet, and FLOORS him with a Spinning Heel Kick!

DM: All four men brawling their way up the ramp… at this point, I don’t think victory is EITHER team’s concern!

[Back in the ring, the referee groggily comes to and finds that both teams have left the ring and are brawling their way up to the stage. Without seeing much hope in his ability to restore order, he quickly calls for the bell.]


MN: What’s happening?

TF: Ladies and gentlemen… the referee has declared this match… NO CONTEST!!

[The audience BOOS loudly! On the rampway, a crew of ring officials come out of the backstage area and quickly bring the fracas to an end.]

DM: This match just spiraled out of control… and now the ring crew is desperately trying to keep these two teams separated from each other.

MN: Man, it’s taking like FIVE GUYS just to hold back the big Russian!

DT: The champions walk out of this encounter with their belts… but EPW’s FIRST tag champs certainly gave them a run for their money! Regardless, I think this is far from over between the Proletariat and the Chronic Collision.

MN: Dave, it’s CHRONIC COLLIZ-Z-ZION!! Get it right!

DT: Eh, whatever.

[The CHRONIC COLLIZION!! are escorted backstage by the ring officials while the Proletariat are kept at the ring, where their titles are returned to him.]


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
The Sergeant vs. Troy Douglas vs. Karl "The Dragon" Brown (c) - EPW IC Title

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...



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!



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...



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!!


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!


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...


.... TWO!!




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


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!


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
Intruder Alert

[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.]


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX
Main Event: Beast vs. JA & Kin Hiroshi, plus - the champ...IS HERE!

DT: Well, our main event tonight was issued by special order of owner Dan Ryan, with his newly regained control over Empire Pro. Lately, he’s been butting heads with the former World Champion Beast… and now he puts him up against two of his top talents in JA and Kin Hiroshi!

DM: And, as announced earlier, Hiroshi and JA will be COMPETING next week for the number one contendership! How is their alliance going to last?

MN: On sprinkled-covered muffins laced with smack, if the Muffin Man had any brains in him…

[“Figure You Out” by Nickelback plays, and the audience CHEERS with excitement as spotlights fall on the entry-way!]

TF: Ladies and gentlemen, the following handicap contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first… from Winnipeg, Manitoba… weighing in at 287 pounds… he is the FORMER A1E World Champion… HERE IS…. BEEEEEAAAAAASSSSTTTT!!!

[Beast proudly steps onto the stage to a SWELL of cheers from adoring fans! Looking pumped and ready for action, he strides down the ramp to the ring.]

MN: Oh, my, GAWD… NICKELBACK!! I hate this band… it just REEKS of Canadianess…

DT: Regardless, the fans are giving this former champ a warm welcome to the ring, even though he most likely faces CERTAIN DOOM against TWO opponents!

DM: Who knows… depending on how well Hiroshi and JA work together, Beast may just have an outside chance at overcoming the odds Dan Ryan has set before him.

[Beast rolls into the ring and climbs a turnbuckle, briefly posing for the fans. “My Immortal” by Adema hits the PA, and the crowd POPS LOUDLY as the lights slowly flicker to black.]

TF: And the opponent… hailing from Tokyo, Japan, and weighing in at 245 pounds… he is the MUFFIN MAN… KIIIIINN HIIIIRRROOOOSSSHHIIIIII!!!

[The lights come up on the stage as a waterfall pyro rains from the entry-way. Kin Hiroshi emerges and POSES, drawing a massive pop! With regal grace, he makes his way to the ring. He climbs up to the apron and poses for the fans again.]

DT: Hiroshi came up short-handed at Russian Roulette, thanks to Stalker’s interference… but he may have a second chance at the limelight when he meets JA at the next Aggression.

DM: For now, though, he finds himself doing Dan Ryan’s dirty work.

MN: I already got five bucks saying that this guy blows his second shot at being number one contender because he was too stupid to check over his shoulder for Stalker…

[“Eat the Rich” by Fozzy hits the PA. The audience POPS as the lights go black and a silhouette appears in the entry-way.]

TF: And his partner… hailing from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania… weighing in at 219 pounds… he is the NUMBER ONE CONTENDER for the EPW World Title… HE IS… JAAAAAYYY AAAAAYYYYYYEEEEE!!!!

[HUGE pop as pyros explode on the stage and JA bounds onto the rampway! Confidently, he makes his way to the ring!]

DT: Here comes the man who came out of Russian Roulette victorious, and now he eagerly awaits a match against Sean Stevens at Black Dawn.

MN: That’s provided he doesn’t get BEAT on the next Aggression…

DM: I wonder what he thinks about having to put his contendership up for stake. And I REALLY wonder what he thinks considering that the man he has to defend it against is his PARTNER in this handicap match!

[The audience POPS enormously as JA hesitates at the bottom of the ramp, looking to the apron where Kin Hiroshi stands defensively staring back at him.]

DT: Very tense moment in the ring right now as the two future opponents come face to face.

DM: Some might argue that JA only came out of Russian Roulette as the Number One Contender thanks to the efforts of Stalker. I, for one, think the man would have STILL won that match if it weren’t for OTHER factors…

DT: You have GOT to wonder what is going through JA’s mind right now as he teams himself with a man who threatens his place in line to the title.

DM: Well, I doubt he’s pleased…

[JA goes around the corner of the ring and climbs the far corner, posing briefly for the fans before descending to the apron and coming to his corner. Both men say nothing to each other but never break eye contact… and without even a word of discussion, JA steps into the ring.]

MN: Is this match tag rules?

DM: On paper? Not sure… but I think JA just decided the stipulations for us.

[The bell rings.]

DT: And the BEAST pounces forward! He takes JA into a rear waist-lock and yanks him to the center of the ring… there’s the TAKEDOWN, and Beast crosses over to the front! Lifts him up with the front-facelock… and goes for a GUILLOTINE CHOKE HOLD!

DM: And he BLOCKS it! JA sank the leg in there before Beast could get the leg-scissor in place… and JA COUNTERS with an overhead slam!

DT: That looked dangerous…

MN: That was the same move that Danny Bonaduce used on Johnny Fairplay to knock out his front teeth.

DT: JA trying to shake off the effects of that choke-hold… and Beast recovers with a ROLL-UP from behind!

One! TWO! And JA kicks out of a near fall! Both men on their feet… and Beast puts JA down the ARMDRAG and locks in an armbar to keep him in place!

DM: Beast’s speed and endurance in the ring is quite a noticeable. Naturally, we can’t forget that he himself was once a former champion…

MN: Ancient history, my friend.

DT: And now he’s up against the man who may very well be poised at the championship… an interesting clash of past and future between old rivals.

DM: JA working himself around to relieve some of the tension on his shoulder… he makes it to his feet… and Beast just DROPS to his back and drags him down with him by the arm! Beast, using his legs to trap the free arm, and there’s the CRUCIFIX!! Rolls him up for another PIN!!



And Kin Hiroshi runs in to make the save!

DM: It looked like a pointless act, as JA managed to kick out at the last second… and he throws Hiroshi a threatening look for his troubles!

DT: To be fair, he was just trying to help him.

MN: He oughta worry more about himself…

DT: Beast and JA back on their feet… and there’s the lock-up! JA takes the arm and wraps it into a hammerlock… and Beast MUSCLES out of it, and reverses with a hard Arm Wrench that flips JA to the mat! Beast slaps on the side headlock to keep him on the ground…

DM: Man, it’s just been non-stop technical wrestling between these two in the opening minutes of this match. Old-school Greco-Roman at its finest…

MN: Yeah, that stuff gets you off, don’t it? We know how those crazy Greeks were…

DT: You know, I’m a quarter Greek…

MN: Oh, wow! Imagine that… you guys should hook up, or something!

DM: Piss off, Mike!

DT: I should kick your ass after this match. Speaking off… Beast keeping that headlock held in tight… and now these fans are getting behind the Anglo Luchador as he works his way to his feet! JA up at last… goes with the ELBOW to the gut of Beast to break the hold! JA runs into the ropes… and there’s the CROSS-BODY BLOCK—

DM: OH DAMN!! Beast just REVERSES IT into a Powerslam!!

DT: Beast has been holding himself well thus far in this match… beating JA in the technical game, and now whipping out his brute force!

MN: Oh crap… he’s “whipping it out” for Dave now. Heaven help us.

DM: Beast bringing JA to his feet again… bends him over and hooks around the waist, looking for a POWERBOMB—and JA WITH THE HURRICANRANA reverses the move! That’s the risk you run going for the heavy-hitting moves, and a man like JA, who typically finds himself overpowered in most match-ups, knows that fact all too well…

DT: Beast working his way to his feet… and JA meets him with a standing dropkick! Beast on his feet again… and JA flips him onto his back with an armdrag! Beast, again, on his feet, this time with a little trouble… and JA pushes him off the ropes! Beast returns… and JA DROPS HIM with the Spinning Heel Kick on the return!

MN: Looks like the inevitable is starting to happen!

DT: You may be right, Mike… JA makes the tag to Kin Hiroshi, and a fresh man enters the ring! This is where the handicap element begins to take its toll on Beast. The less he controls this match, the stronger his opponents will work as a team.

DM: Hiroshi sizes up Beast as he rises off the mat… and a STIFF KICK TO THE HEAD as he gets to his knees puts Beast back on the mat!

DT: Nearly knocked the SWEAT clean off his face! But what’s this… Hiroshi takes him by the arm, and goes for the LA MANHISTROL CRADLE!!



NO!! Beast kicks out!

DM: Hiroshi has to keep up the pressure… he brings Beast back to his feet… and there’s the NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!! Bridges for the PIN!!



THREE—NO, Beast manages to kick out…

MN: The Muffin Man can’t keep the Beast pinned down.

DT: Meanwhile, JA recovering his strength and stamina on the outside… Hiroshi trying to continue the punishment, and possibly put this match away, as he brings Beast to his feet, and there’s the whip to the ropes—but Beast REVERSES!!

DM: Hiroshi off the ropes… spun into a BACKBREAKER from Beast!!

MN: Is Hiroshi REALLY gonna blow this?!

DT: Don’t talk too quickly, Mike… Beast may be looking for a comeback, but the number done on him by JA and Hiroshi through this match may continue to be a hindrance as this fight continues.

DM: Beast forcing Hiroshi to his feet… locks in the Full Nelson from behind, and there’s the DRAGON SUPLEX!! Hiroshi’s in a bad position now… he needs to make the tag to his partner.

MN: Hey, JA ain’t his “partner” by any means.

DT: Beast doing everything he can to wear one of his opponents down, keeping Hiroshi from making the tag by whipping him into the ropes… Hiroshi deftly LEAP FROGS over a Back Body Drop attempt… Hiroshi bounces back, and there’s the TORNADO DDT that drills Beast head-first to the mat! No time better than now!

DM: Hiroshi dragging himself to his feet with Beast lying on the mat stunned… he makes it to his corner, and goes for the tag… and JA just steps off the apron!

DT: WOW!! Talk about a show of disrespect!

MN: Quite obviously, JA wants Hiroshi to get off his lazy ass and DO something on Beast…

DT: Hiroshi looks absolutely INFURIATED… and the distraction is enough for Beast to jump him from behind and ROLL HIM UP FOR THE PIN!!



THREE—OH NO, near kick out!!

DM: The tension in this match is coming to a head. JA refuses to tag in… and now Hiroshi is left to control the dominant Beast!

MN: These two are having an unusually hard time with just ONE opponent…

DT: Maybe if they worked together, they’d get more done! Obviously, there’s a level of friction between these two knowing they must compete over a chance for the title. But back to the action… Beast brings Hiroshi back to his feet… there’s the whip to the ropes, and Hiroshi makes the BLIND TAG to JA! And the ref COUNTS IT!!

DM: GORILLA PRESS from Beast onto Hiroshi, sends the Muffin Man over the ropes and to the outside! And now JA is just coming to the realization that he’s the legal man!

MN: Uh oh!

DT: Beast grabs the ropes and SLINGSHOTS JA into the ring… and now he gets him to his feet… lifts him up with the suplex, and SLAMS HIM WITH A SUPER SPINEBUSTER!! MY GOD, that was devastating!

MN: Handled him like Britney handles her own children!

DT: Beast with the cover…



THREE—OH NO, JA manages to kick out! And back on the apron climbs a dazed Kin Hiroshi, who just scraped himself off the floor outside the ring…

DM: It’s too much for Beast to put this one away. Having to spread the damage over interchanging opponents is keeping him from putting this one away. And now he brings JA to his feet, and it looks like he may be going for the ABSOLUTION 2K4!!!




THREE—OH WOW, Beast kicks out!! THAT was too close! And Beast knows it as he gets to his feet and bears down on JA—and JA WITH THE BALLTAP!!


DM: Cheap, but effective. The referee gives him a stern, but permissible warning, and it buys him just enough time to make the tag…

DT: I think he’d rather spend that time doing something else! JA comes to his feet… goes to his corner… and just BLINDSIDES an unsuspecting Kin Hiroshi with a FOREARM that just KO’s the Muffin Man… the the REF counts it as a TAG!!

DM: Uh-oh… Beast on the other side of the ring, looking angry and getting himself in a crouched position!! He’s got JA in his sights!!

MN: Hey Dave, who did Beast vote for in the 2004 elections?


DM: JA pulls a dazed Hiroshi into the ring… and tosses him into the path of a charging BEAST—


MN: Hey, Dave, you’re RIGHT!!

DT: Huh?! Oh… now I get it.

DM: JA slips out of the ring, and Beast just PULVERIZED the Muffin Man with that Spear that took him right in the chest! Beast bringing Hiroshi to his feet… hooks his arm from behind…

DT: AND THERE’S THE ABSOLUTION 2K4!!! That’s IT!! Beast with the cover…




[The bell rings as “Figure You Out” hits the PA.]

TF: The winner of this match, as a result of pinfall… BEEEEEAAAAASSSSTTT!!

[Beast celebrates in the ring amid a sea of cheering fans. JA, standing outside the ring, merely looks at the fallen body of Kin Hiroshi and shakes his head with disappointment.]


DT: In the end, it seems as though Kin Hiroshi and JA couldn’t work as a cohesive unit in doing Dan Ryan’s dirty work on Beast. Maybe it’s for the better, in the end…

MN: What do you mean, for the better?! What’s gonna happen when Hiroshi and JA are in the ring together at the next Aggression!?

DT: I can only predict total chaos.

DM: Beast wins on this night… and the two contenders for the number one contendership are really starting to get personal!

DM: What a great main event! What a great night of wrestling action!

DT: I couldn't agree with you more, we have a NEW Intercontinental Champion, that's history in itself ... we've had Dan Ryan's major announcement regarding the number one contendership to the EPW World Heavyweight Championship, and--

[Suddenly, a body is tossed through the curtain onto the stage, and begins a slow roll down the ramp, clearly attempting to escape.]

DM: What in the?!

MN: ICE TRE's in the HEEZY baby!

DT: Who writes your stuff?

MN: Your mother.

[The camera zooms in, and it is, in fact, Ice Tre -- face dripping with blood, trying desperately to get to his feet, but his legs are wobbly like spaghetti.]

DM: What's going on here?! What happened to ICE TRE?! Who could've--

[He's interrupted by a very vocal chorus of boos, as another wrestler steps through the curtain, steel chair in hand -- EPW World Heavyweight Champion, 'Triple X' Sean Stevens.]

DM: I thought, I thought?


MN: Well obviously, he's had a change of heart Einstein.

[Sean stalks Ice Tre, who's crawling backwards trying to get away. Trip begins to run, Tre tries to make it to his feet, but is nailed in the back of the head with the steel chair.]

DM: Sean Stevens isn't retiring! Sean Stevens isn't giving the EPW title back! This was all a SET UP!

MN: And, a brilliant set up at that.

DT: Trip tosses Ice Tre into the ring, and lifts him to his feet ... ANOTHER CHAIR SHOT BETWEEN THE EYES! Tre hits the mat like a sack of bricks!

DM: And, the sad part is, Sean isn't done! He's got Tre up once again, he lifts him over his shoulder -- XTERMINATOR! He's trying to KILL that young man!

[Sean stands up on his feet, and begins to laugh sadistically, as the fans in attendance throw juice bottles, and popcorn into the ring -- some actually hitting Sean. Triple X signals for a mic, and lays down on his stomach, next to Ice Tre's fallen body.]

TRIPLE X: You stupid son of a B_TCH! You want me? You want another shot at the CHAMP? Well, you GOT me. Next Aggression ... YOU, ME in a match that I am the KING of -- a STEEL CAGE MATCH!

[More boos follow as Ice Tre struggles, using the ropes to get to his feet, only to be nailed with Stevens' patented Superkick, the Factor-X and falling back down on the mat, as the show goes off the air.]


Sep 11, 1997
Katy, TX


[Backstage. Seasoned reporter Mojo Massey stands with a mic in hand wearing his usual snazzy suit. But something about Mojo and his expression doesn’t seem quite that “snazzy” after all. His eyes dart back and forth nervously, and he appears to be sweating. He is noticeably uncomfortable…]

[He suddenly tenses up as stepping into the frame is none other than “Triple X” Sean Stevens, the World Champion, proudly carrying his title and looking extremely business-like.]

Stevens: Sup, Moj? What did you need?

Mojo!: Um…

Stevens: …well, come on. You asked me down here to do promo work for next week. Now are we going to cut this thing or what?

[Massey says nothing, but stammers something unintelligible. To his credit, Stevens, no fool, recognizes immediately that something is amiss. That’s why when the backdrop standing up behind them suddenly collapses, the champion quickly spins and braces himself. Perhaps the reason why is because one would normally expect a chair shot or just any type of devastating strike… but the LAST thing he expects to experience is the snap of electricity in the air and the sudden crippling pain that surges through his entire body as the taser in Caitlyn Daymon’s hand drives itself into his abdomen!]

Stevens: AAARRRGGH!!!

[The World Champion’s legs crumble out from underneath him as he spasms with violent fervor, thrashing and twitching as an unimaginable voltage passes through his body. Sneering with absolute repugnance, Caitlyn stoops down and drives the taser into his throat! Stevens THRASHES on the floor like a fish out of water in absolute agony. When the second electrocution has finished, he’s given only a moment to catch half a lungful of breath… and Caitlyn tases him a THIRD time!]

Caitlyn: Have you pissed yourself yet?

[With the coldest of expressions, Caitlyn zaps him a fourth time!]

Caitlyn: My husband might have a reputation to protect… but I see things differently. You should have taken a hint when I kicked my husband’s ass up and down the arena… I’m the kind of woman you don’t want to piss off. I’m the B*TCH that bites back!

[Vehemently, Caitlyn BOOTS Sean Stevens across the face. At first it appears to be a means of continuing the pain she’s giving him… but now we realize, after a second and third kick to the head, that she’s bringing him back to consciousness.]

Caitlyn: Ramming your tongue down my throat is one thing… but USING me as a means to insult someone… that just pisses me right off. It’s that kind of womanizing that’s held back people like myself and Lindsay Troy since the beginning of humankind, and I’ll be DAMNED if I allow myself to be walked over by a piece of sh*t like you!

[Caitlyn steps out of the frame temporarily. Stevens groans on the ground, but is severely incapacitated.]

Caitlyn: I want you to do me a favor, Sean. I want you to close your eyes… and imagine the most disgusting thing that one could possibly stick in your mouth. Beyond dirt and mud… beyond bile… beyond sh*t.

[Caitlyn re-enters the frame with a chair in hand, setting it up, and taking a handful of Stevens’ long golden locks and ramming his head through the small opening between the back and the seat, closing it JUST ENOUGH that the steel presses a few centimeters into his throat. Eyes open and wild, he realizes he is stuck and incapable of breaking free, his mouth awkwardly hanging open.]

Caitlyn: Now I’ve got quite an imagination… and this is the closest thing I could think of.

[Caitlyn reaches off camera again and brings forward a small rubber bucket. She slips on a rubber glove and reaches in… pulling out a long, fleshy, hideous thing.]

Caitlyn: This here is a pickled kielbasa sausage that’s been fermenting all day in this bucket of chum I got from dockyard earlier today. I could probably do worse, but… this was all I could do on such short term notice. Now I want you to keep something in mind…

What you’re about to feel is not even a FRACTION of the disgust that came over me as you forced that revolting thing into my mouth!

Now open wide…

[Driving the sole of her boot against his jaw to keep his mouth firmly open, Caitlyn holds out the long, phallic link of meat and proceeds to drive it into the World Champion’s gaping maw as though she were trying to ram it out the other end! Stevens RETCHES in nausea as Caitlyn crams it in, meat breaking apart and turning to mush as her fingers drive as much as his mouth can possibly hold of mushed up meat product.]

[Without warning, a man’s hand comes into the frame and grabs her by the arm, quickly YANKING her away!]

Rocko: Woman, you’ve crossed the line this time!

Caitlyn: BULLSH*T! The line was crossed the minute this bastard got the bright idea to touch me! At least I have the balls to do something about it while you stand back and work off of your “plan”.

Rocko: I’ll repay what he’s owed when the time comes… but don’t expect me to stand at your side and fight your battles for you when it comes time to pay for this. Now let’s go.

Caitlyn: Whatever… it’s finished anyway.

[Caitlyn drops everything, rips off the rubber glove, and departs before she can be led away by anybody. Rocko lingers for a moment longer, looking down at the wide and tear-filled eyes of the World Champion. Perhaps he savors the moment as a smile slowly spreads on his face. And, without saying or doing anything else, he turns and exits.]

[A timid Mojo Massey, the bait for the Daymons’ cleverly laid trap, creeps back into the frame, eyes wide with what he’s just seen. He looks down at the trapped head of the World Champion with absolute shock and awe.]

Mojo!: Uhm, Mr. Stevens… is there anything I can—

[Like a starving python striking at its prey, Sean Stevens’ arm lashed out and grabs Mojo by the throat! The reporter’s eyes BULGE like grapes before he’s tossed aside! Then, in animalistic rage, Stevens drives himself to his feet, ripping the chair off of his head and heaving out the repulsive contents in his mouth. Enraged, he SPRINTS in the direction of the Daymons, the camera tracking his move!]

[Stevens tears through a doorway and immediately runs into a wall of fans.]


[They’re upon him at once, and his pursuit is immediately halted as the cluster surrounds him. Ignoring them completely, Stevens gazes out into the audience area for the culprits. But they’ve disappeared without a trace.]

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