Banter: That commercial is godlike.
IC: Well this next match is satanlike.
Tex: Well, folks...I have to tell you here that if the kids are still up, now might be the time to put them to bed.
Banter: Haha! Fantastic!
Cain: In all seriousness, this match is not suitable for general audiences. If you are offended by extreme violence, life-threatening situations or are of an overly sensitive nature, please change the channel now.
Sammy Eubanks: The following contest is a SUICIDE SCAFFOLD MATCH!
The crowd cheers, though the reaction is a little muted due to some confusion. In the ring, a scaffold extending approximately twenty feet into the air has been erected while, near to Sammy's feet are scattered a few hundred thumbtacks.
Sammy: The object of the match is to scale the scaffold and, once at the top, throw your opponent off it. Alternatively, any competitor can win the match by willingly throwing themselves off the scaffold and onto the thumbtacks in the ring.
The crowd pops at the bizarre and bloodthirsty stipulations.
Tex: And I don't think I'd mind so much if Highone or Hardy were in this match, but the fans and everyone backstage loves Ghetto Fire and Matt Strikmore is a damn nice kid. This isn't going to be easy to watch.
The drum beats of "Battle of One" start as white lights strobe to the beat. The guitar riff starts, and blue strobes join the white lights. As the singer screams, Matt Strikmore makes his way through the entrance way. Wearing long brown tights with blue details, Matt rolls his neck before heading down the ramp. There's very little fanfare, just the occasional slapping of a fans hand without looking away from the ring. Sliding under the bottom rope, Matt quickly jumps back up to his feet before lightly jogging in place while shaking out his arms.
Sammy: In the ring, from Wildwood, New Jersey, weighing in at 220 lbs...MAAAATT STRIIIIIIIIIKEMOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!!!!!
Banter: Why are the fans cheering for this guy anyway? I don't see anything special about him.
Tex: Well, Strikmore is our newest addition to the roster, but already he's begun attracting a solid fan base due to his no-nonsense approach to competition and a healthy, sportsmanlike attitude.
Banter: He sounds boring.
"The Suffering" begins to play and, a few seconds later, Ghetto Fire walks out onto the entrance ramp with a smile on his face and a hop in his step.
Cain: This extreme match stipulation suits Ghetto Fire's hardcore style, I think.
Tex: That's true, but nobody can claim ‘Suicide Scaffold Match' as a speciality, I don't think.
Sammy: And approaching the ring, from Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, weighing in at 245 lbs....he is a member of Ghetto Grass....GHEEEEETTO FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRE!!!!!!!!!!
The reaction is typically loud for the popular wrestler as Ghetto Fire climbs into the ring and eyes the scaffold thoughtfully. Strikmore glances at the structure with a little more trepidation but extends his hand to his opponent regardless.
Ghetto accepts the handshake as the bell rings and the crowd cheers for the display of sportsmanship.
Strikmore starts off with a headlock takeover, surprising everyone by attempting a technical wrestling move in a match of this type. Ghetto scissors his head as he goes over though, but Strikmore kips up out of it. They exchange arm drags.
Tex: Well...that is interesting...
Strikmore whips Ghetto, who has to jump over the thumbtacks and then stops himself on the ropes to avoid going near them again. Strikmore gingerly walks around them and they lock up.
Banter: What are they doing?
Both men try to move back and forth slightly, but with the scaffold and the thumbtacks there isn't much room to actually wrestle and they break it up.
Cain: Sooner or later, they're going to have to climb up the scaffold...
Ghetto and Strikmore seemed to have reached the same conclusion as they stare at one another and they both walk to opposite sides of the structure and begin to climb it. Ghetto has a look of fierce determination but Strikmore looks a little more reluctant, frequently glancing down as he climbs.
Eventually they reach the top and both men stand for a second looking indecisive.
Banter: What's wrong with these guys? Don't they know how to wrestle?
Tex: I think the problem is more that they do know how to wrestle and they have no room to do it.
Strikmore shrugs and offers a lock-up with Ghetto accepts. Both men push against each other for a second before Ghetto's foot almost slips over the edge and he releases, jumping back in fright.
Banter: Come on!
Cain: It looks like Strikmore is checking if Ghetto is ok.
Banter: Why?!
Tex: He doesn't want to throw him off, Banter.
Banter: Why are we paying these people?!
Ghetto attempts an Irish whip, causing Strikmore to nearly fly off the scaffold, but he stops himself and grabs hold of the scaffolding and clutches it, ducking low to avoid falling. He shakes his head rapidly at the drop, making it clear that he has no intention of dropping.
Banter: Some suicide match this is going to be! Strikmore would make the worst goth ever.
Ghetto comes after Strikmore and clubs him across the back. He picks him up for a scoop slam but Strikmore manages to wriggle out and immediately backs off with his hands held up.
Banter: I can't believe we're watching a match where the two people in it don't want to hurt each other!
Tex: Well, this is a very unique stipulation.
Banter: Uniquely awful, maybe.
Ghetto offers a test of strength and Strikmore accepts. As soon as they link hands, however, Ghetto tries to manoeuvre Strikmore towards the edge of the platform and the rookie breaks off, looking offended. Ghetto can only shrug apologetically.
Strikmore looks annoyed, so grabs a side-headlock, but immediately realises that there isn't really anything he can do with it, so lets go and scratches his head.
Tex: Well, the crowd are certainly getting a kick out of this.
Banter: I'm glad someone is...
Ghetto kicks Strikmore in the gut and tried to drag him towards the edge, but Strikmore is able to get a grip and deftly back suplexes Ghetto. The impact shakes the whole structure though and both men immediately duck down and hang on for dear life.
Cain: No one wants to be the one to go off the scaffold.
Banter: No one wants anyone to go off the scaffold! This is ridiculous!
Once the structure becomes stable again, Strikmore slowly stands and moves towards the drop. He looks over for a few moments as if considering jumping.
Banter: Yes! Go on!
He places his hand on the scaffolding and steels himself, but, just as he's about to throw himself, Ghetto grabs him from behind and pulls him back, attempting to throw him off the other side.
Tex: It could be all over here!
Banter: Yes!
Ghetto muscles Strikmore over to the edge and pushes him, causing the rookie to teeter on the brink for a moment before grabbing Ghetto's shirt and trying to pull himself back on.
Cain: Not a wise move from Strikmore, perhaps.
Both men hang on the edge for a second, looking like they're about to fall off but eventually Ghetto regains his footing and pulls Strikmore back onto the scaffold with him. Both men stumble over and crouch low as the scaffold shakes again.
Ghetto is beginning to look frustrated and starts stomping Strikmore. He picks him up and scoop slams him - shaking the structure again - but Ghetto seems to be becoming increasingly fearless now.
Tex: There is a determination in the young man's eyes - he wants to win this.
Banter: I don't care who wins anymore, can someone just fall off please?
Ghetto picks Strikmore up and tries to throw him off the scaffold, but his opponent puts the brakes on and punches him in the stomach before catching Ghetto in a hurricanrana, almost sending him skidding off the edge.
Strikmore gets a gutbuster and then looks lost for a second, unsure of what to do next. Sighing heavily, he picks Ghetto up and drags him towards the edge.
Cain: Strikmore is about to win here, if he can bring himself to do what must be done.
Strikmore apparently can't and releases Ghetto who stumbles back behind him. Strikmore stands looking down at the thumbtacks below him and is clearly wondering just what he should do.
Tex: Strikmore should watch his back!
Ghetto, looking increasingly angry, charges Strikmore from behind and flips over his back.
Cain: Head Cutter!
Strikmore's head smashes into the wooden surface of the scaffold, but Ghetto has misjudged the distance and skids off the edge, only just managing to stop his descent with the tips of his fingers. Immediately Strikmore rushes to help his opponent, reaching down to grab his arm as Ghetto loses his grip.
Banter: He's helping him! Ghetto was going to fall and he caught him! THIS IS SO STUPID!
Strikmore desperately tries to hang onto the hand of the terrified-looking Ghetto, but his grip is gradually loosening and Ghetto eventually slips out and plunges down, landing hard on the thumbtacks.
Banter: Yay!
Tex: But who won?
Banter: Huh?
Cain: Ghetto's own move took him over the edge - both men have a claim to the victory.
The bell has been rung. Ghetto is unconscious with EMTs swarming around him while Strikmore is looking visibly pale as he stares down at his fallen opponent.
Sammy Eubanks: Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has ruled that as Ghetto Fire did not intend to throw himself off the scaffold, the winner of this match is MAAAATT STRIIIIIIKEMOOOOOORE!!!
(Winner: Matt Strikmore)The crowd cheers, but Strikmore doesn't look satisfied with the victory and his eyes still haven't left the prone form of Ghetto Fire.
IC: Wow we really need to cut to commercial.
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Banter: That commercial was better than the thing that was shown at the beginning.
IC: Less frightening anyway.
Earlier in the day....TI wants the placed somewhere before his match...
Titanium Insomniac sits alone in the plush Infinity locker room. The space is adorned with the finest of amenities that S-Mart has brought to their provider. TI himself reclines on the couch, sipping a bottle of water. One might expect bourbon or shiraz...he's no fool.
Another figure steps out from the corner of the room. TI's eyes indicate his awareness of the visitor. TI lowers the bottle from his lips.
TI: "I figured you'd be making an appearance this evening."
J: "How could I stay away? It's a big night. I'm just glad that your friends are occupied long enough for me to have this little chat."
TI: "What could we possibly need to chat about this close to my latest shining moment?"
Jeremiah finally steps into TI's line of vision, decked out in his usual air of absolute calm and confidence. TI doesn't bother to stand.
J: "I simply wanted to wish you luck. Can I not do that?"
TI: "I've been associated with you long enough to know that's not the only reason you're here."
Jeremiah chuckles.
J: "True. Very true."
Jeremiah now sits on the coffee table opposite TI, invading his space as he's been doing for months now. TI regards J with a displeasure that could cut an ordinary man right down the middle.
J: "I want you to picture something for me. Paint it in your head using any assortment of colors you find applicable. I have my own ideas, but you're creative enough that I don't have to set up a number system. Picture a silent gathering of thousands, even millions. People upon people, indistinguishable from one to the next, all wearing the same blank expression. They are marked by the absence of life...they could be corpses if one couldn't see that they're taking in breath.
Now, picture an absolutely tragic event before them: perhaps millions more being thrown into a furnace the size and intensity of the sun, perhaps the slow twist of a knife wielded by a paranoid husband in an innocent woman's skull...this scene replays for them, and they never flinch. They never gasp. They never call for help. They never CARE."
Jeremiah sits back, allowing a moment to hang between them. TI makes no effort to pull it down.
J: "The crowd doesn't react because they've seen it before, or because they forget what they see just as quickly as they see it. Who knows? But they sit there fixated because they anticipate something exciting to happen...and it never does.
"I approached you because the crowd needs to be jarred awake. What can they see that will finally end their anticipation? And are you still the one to bring it to them?"
Jeremiah stands and approaches the door. He is stopped by one final thought and turns back toward TI.
J: "And...really...in all sincerity...good luck."
Jeremiah is gone from the room just as quickly as he'd appeared. The Insomniac rests his chin on folded hands, contemplating his latest puzzle.
Banter: This show has been a freakshow...
Tex: Well things will go from freaky to fun in this next match.
Banter: Am I reading this correctly? An IKEA Carnage Match is up next?
IC: Emphasis on the carnage aspect no doubt based on the history of each of its participants, David Hardy and MacAvoy...
Tex: There's more than cheap furniture on the line here. This is also another match in the Majestic Cup Tournament!
The camera cuts to a wide shot of the crowd where a number of TCW personnel can be seen setting up various types of furniture around the ring. A wide variety of wooden weapons had already been scattered in the area, otherwise known as chairs, tables, armoires, standing mirrors, couches, and whatever else might be found in your average furniture store.
Banter: So what exactly is the deal here?
Tex: Well, basically, you win the match by scoring ten points; one point for a shot with a piece of furniture and three points for putting them through something, like a chair or funky table.
Banter: Where's my cut of the promotional fee?
IC: That reminds me....everyone, the following match is brought to you by...
Tex: It looks like the crew is heading to the back. Go time, everyone!!
"One by One" by the Foo Fighters starts to play on the arena's speakers. MacAvoy walks out with his hoodie top covering his face, ignoring the fans on his way down the ramp. He is obvious to their booing. He stops right before entering the ring and spends a second eyeing the furniture to his left and right. After the brief pause, and a shrug, he rolls under the bottom rope and waits for his opponent. A few seconds go by, as the buzzing of crowd has become quite audible.
The arena lights slowly fade to black. After several moments, the heavy opening chords to their hit' "Everlasting Gaze" play. Multicolored spotlights flash from the entrance throughout the arena in tune with the symbol taps. Suddenly a huge Y2J-esque explosion erupts at the top of the ramp as the music kicks up. The music blasts for several seconds as a cloud of smoke covers the entranceway. Billy Corgan proceeds to sing.
"You know I'm not dead
You know I'm you know I'm not dead
You know I'm not dead
You know I'm not dead...
Now you know where I've been
As you sleep shine I am..."
David Hardy finally steps through the curtain and onto the stage. He shakes his head, smirking cockily. He makes his way to each end of the stage, playing to the crowd.
Announcer: From West Vancouver, BC... DAVIIIIIIID HAAAAARRRRDYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!
"Waiting down... patiently...
Born of love...
You know I'm, you know I'm not dead,
I'm just living in my head
Forever waiting
On the ways of your desire
You always find your way"
He makes a D-Generation X style crotch chop at the crowd causing a mixed response among smarks and marks alike. Stopping in the middle of the stage again, he hops a few times, loosening his joints before bounding down to the ring. With a smooth slide, he dives under the bottom rope to the middle of the ring. With a somersault, he springs to his feet and jumps onto the turnbuckles.
"And through it all, into us all you move
Forgotten touch, forbidden thought"
He stares out into the crowd, an emotionless glare drawn across his face. He nods slowly at whoever seems to appreciate his greatness. After a few moments of absorbing the crowd reaction, he raises his arms above his head in what could only be described as the Randy Orton post. Shortly afterwards, he steps to the very top rope and launches himself backwards. With a graceful backflip, he lands on his feet and bounces a few times.
"We can never, ever know
You know I'm not dead!"
After the ovation, Hardy shuffles over to his corner and rests against the turnbuckles. He opens and closes his injured hand and remains oblivious to everything until the rest of the match begins.
Tex: These Infinty guys must have a nice budget for entrances...
IC: With the S-Mart bank account, is there any doubt?
Hardy and MacAvoy stare each other down. There is no compassion in either man's eyes. These two are here to scrap. They waste little time, not even waiting for the bell, before they spring forward and start exchanging punches. By the time the "ding" makes the match official, MacAvoy has already gained the advantage and whips David into the nearest corner. He quickly follows up with a knife-edge chop, illiciting a "WOOOOOOO" from the crowd.
Tex: MacAvoy starts things out with a lot of aggression!
Before Mac can land another shot, Hardy drops to the mat and rolls out of the ring. He smiles and points a finger to his head, tapping his temple, to show the crowd his ring savvy. A mixture of booing and laughter is their response. MacAvoy is not amused and starts climbing in between the second and third rope, exiting the ring. David uses the momentary lapse of concentration to his advantage, grabbing a nearby Kautsby Chair....
...and then smashing it over MacAvoy's head, causing the Californian to fall the rest of the way out of the ring and onto the floor.
IC: It looks like Infinity's favorite member between females age 14-18 wasn't bragging about his smarts simply because he avoided another chop....he actually had a plan! The score looks to be 1-0 Hardy...
Banter: At least he didn't use a stool of the "softened" variety...probably would've hurt less though.
David pulls MacAvoy up to his feet with a handful of hair. The co-RoXoR delivers a Stooge-style poke to his opponent's eyes, then takes a few steps back before launching himself headfirst into MacAvoy's jewels. The iProd/Flying Crotch Destroyer combo causes the 6'2", 250 lbs. man to fall back to the crowd.
Banter: He hit those testicles with the force of a powerful, pint-sized Zidane!!!
MacAvoy is still reeling from the crotch-shot as Hardy pulls him back up and rolls him on top of a Forsa dining table....
David then climbs back up to the ring, make a small hop on to the second rope, and then launches himself off Lionsault-style. At the last minute, MacAvoy rolls out of the way, causing Hardy to crash and burn onto the table. However, the sturdy oak does not shatter, and only cracks. The lack of give in the material makes the impact even worse than it would have been normally.
Tex: That HAD to hurt!
Banter: Always master of the obvious...
IC: MacAvoy finds the energy to drag himself up to his feet. He jumps up to the ring apron.....ohhhhh....does a LionSault of his own!!!!!!! His body crashes down, smashing Hardy...and the rest of the table in the process! And like that, it's 3-1 MacAvoy!!
Tex: Both these men clearly have respect for the great Chris Jericho...
IC: ...although don't you think that was more of an Ultimo Dragon type move?
Tex: That's why he calls it the Avoy Moonsault.
Banter: While you two masturbate to your New Japan and Stampede Wrestling collections, I'm gonna watch this match unfolding in front of us...SOME of us are professional.
IC: But you just talked about masturbation...
Banter: My point exactly.
MacAvoy stands back up and removes a few pieces of wood covering the fallen form of David Hardy. He looks around, trying to find something else he can score a quick point with. The form of a futuristic looking floor lamp...
He walks over and snatches it. By the time he turns, David has made it back onto his feet. This seems to matter little to MacAvoy. He attemps to smash the lighting device against Hardy's head, but the Canadian heartthrob ducks, and delivers a quick forearm to MacAvoy's jaw. The blow dazes him and causes the lamp to fall to the floor. David follows the shot up with a kick to his breadbasket, then grabs the hunched over MacAvoy and DDTs onto the lamp, which snaps in two.
Tex: I've got to believe that counts as a point! 3-2 MacAvoy...
IC: The DDT seemed to do more damage than the light fixture, but I imagine you're right.
Tex: If these guys end up destroying more than $10,000 worth of IKEA products, TCW will make a donation of the same amount to a local charity.
Banter: This is the Bahamas. What do they have? Daquiri-Drinkers' Anonymous?
MacAvoy begins crawling to his feet, but is quickly leveled by a Running Enziguiri from Hardy. David then decides to take the action back inside the ring. He grabs an Agerum Bookcase...
...and slides it under the bottom rope. He then rolls MacAvoy inside. After climbing between the ropes, David walks over to the bookcase and leans it against one of the corners. He stands MacAvoy backs up and proceeds to whip him towards the finely crafted wooden piece, but MacAvoy manages to reverse the momentum, sending David hard into the bookcase!
Tex: Whoa! That thing splintered into a thousand pieces!
IC: Hardy might be lucky if his bones didn't do the same thing...
A shard of wood slices into Hardy's shoulder, giving the crowd their first taste of blood in the match.
Banter: I'm not math genius, but doesn't that make it 6-2 MacAvoy?
IC: He's doing things the smart way. Why pick up single points when you can get three at a time?
Since most of the bigger furniture is too bulky to get into the ring, MacAvoy decides to take the action back outside the squared circle. However, instead of showing Hardy the courtesy of being rolled out, he decides to toss the brash young superstar over the top rope. Sensing he can get within a point of winning the match by putting David through something, MacAvoy drags Hardy over to a tall, oak wardrobe...
IC: David better hope there is a pair of pajamas in there, cause he may be on his way to finding himself asleep. That is one SOLID piece of furniture!
Instead of making the mistake of letting the Tiger Beat Centerfold recover his energy, MacAvoy decides to punish him a little before driving him through the wooden unit. The self-admitted Jericholic stomps on Hardy's back and ribs to tender him up. MacAvoy then stands Hardy back up and locks him into position for a Twist of Fate.
Tex: This could be devestating! But wait...Hardy has the move scouted!
Banter: Of course he does. He's David *HARDY*...
Tex: He pushes MacAvoy forward into mini-closet....MacAvoy hits it, stumbles backwards, turns around.....RIGHT INTO A SUPERKICK!!!! WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?!? It sends Mac flying backwards through the Leksvek Wardrobe's doors!!! They shatter, leaving him slumped against the back of the thing, which falls right off.
IC: It's still 6-5 MacAvoy though...
Tex: Not for long! Hardy finds a Terje Folding chair...
Tex: ...he folds it, raising it above his head and letting out a yell! The crowd responds!
IC: At least the female portion of it...
David places the chair in front of MacAvoy's body, then climbs up on a nearby table and delivers a textbook Missle Dropkick dropkick to the folded chair. The move is similar to a Van Daminator. The force sends MacAvoy rolling through the missing back of the wardrobe and causes the chair to break. The score is now tied! The crowd also realizes this once it flashes on the Jumbotron and their volume increases.
Tex: What's he got planned next?
Hardy does a DX-style crotch chop at the crumpled mess of wood, hinges, and MacAvoy. He then looks at his bloody arm. A trademark smirk even the Grinch would have envied creeps across David's face. The former tag and IC/TC champion pounces on top of MacAvoy and starts delivering a series of short punches to his face. Then, Hardy stands up him up, leaving MacAvoy teetering, and starts to look for a weapon. He notices two small circular mirrors...
He places them side by side, forming an Infinity symbol, and admires himself in the reflection. Hardy casually strolls over to MacAvoy and smashes one of the Kolja Mirrors on his head. Tiny shards of glass open up a few cuts on Mac's face. He falls to the ground, soon wearing a crimson mask.
Tex: That's seven years bad luck!
Banter: For who? Hardy or MacAvoy? Cause technically, it was MacAvoy's dome that just broke that thing...
IC: Either way, Hardy's up 7-6....
David gazes at the mirror remaining in his hand, taking a moment to fix his hair, then hurls it Frisbee-style into MacAvoy's ribcage. It breaks on impact, giving Hardy his first decent lead of the night at 8-6. He notices the time is right for the kill. Mac appears to have lost a lot of blood, not to mention the other damage he's sustained from one of the more brutal stipulations in federation history.
Tex: Infinity's representative hauls MacAvoy over to a small chest of drawers...
Tex: Mac is trying to fight back, but there's no more steam behind his punches. David pulls each of the drawers out on the Malm Dresser. He offers another set of crotch-chops, then runs right into a chairshot from a wicker folding chair much like the one he kicked into Mac moments ago.
IC: 8-7! It's still anyone's game!
But the shot didn't have enough force behind it to stop Hardy, who delivers a kick to Mac's wrist, sending the chair flying. Before he can recover, David runs towards him again, and delivers a D-K-O, breaking each drawer on the way down.
IC: I don't know if you give him three for breaking the thing or one for each level MacAvoy smashed through on the way down, but either way...
The bell sounds Hardy raises his arms in victory, his golden Infinity ring sparkling in the bright stadium lights.
Ring Announcer: Your winner, Davi-.....
Hardy cuts him off and whispers something into his ear. He looks to have a few more choice words for the announcer, then urges him to continue the announcement.
Ring Announcer: Your winner, and representing Infinity in the next round of the Majestic Cup Tournament, Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaavid Haaaaaaaardy!!!!!!!!!
(Winner: David Hardy)Before exiting the ring, Hardy asks a ringside RoXoR groupie for her Polaroid camera. For some reason, he takes a PICTURE of the bloodied MacAvoy, then returns the camera sans one photo to the fan.
Tex: Well, like they say, a picture speaks a thousand words I suppose. Anyways, this can't be good for the rest of the federation, especially Dante. The less members from Infinity who have a chance to win the Majestic Cup, and their choice at any match, the better off we ALL are...
Banter: As if Infinity would do something underhanded? Whatever!
IC: Time will only tell. Speaking of which, it's time for our next segment...
