RPW Showtime: Episode 5

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RPW Showtime: Episode 5

Post by Tony Atlas on Tue Apr 11, 2017 12:29 am




EPISODE 5



Pyro sets off and the cameras pan around the arena, taking in the Rhode Island audience.

J.R.: Good evening and welcome to RPW Showtime, here in Providence, Rhode Island!

Tazz: The Dunkin' Donuts Center is jam-packed tonight for our very first show since All Out Brawl! And it's gonna be awesome!

J.R.: Tonight's episode is right off the back of All Out Brawl, RPW's first Pay-Per-View in 4 years! And it was there that we saw two new Champions crowned!

Tazz: That's right, on that night we saw the Olympian Kurt Angle make his RPW debut and become the first ever RPW Extreme Champion! And not long after that, we saw Howell Saxon overcome Jeremy Stevens in a No Disqualification match, to become the new RPW World Champion, and the first one we've seen since the passing of Big Daddy V back in 2014.

J.R.: It was a milestone of RPW history, and tonight, we may see even more! Later on, we'll be watching the live contract signing between new Number One Contender Kevin Owens, and the RPW World Champion Howell Saxon, for their championship match at the next RPW Pay-Per-View... Locked & Loaded!

Tazz: I can't wait J.R.!

Before the commentators can say much else, the theme song for Showtime fades out, and Tony Chimel is focused on, in the ring, by the cameras.

Tony Chimel: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, the FIRST EVER RPW Extreme Champion! KURT!...ANGLE!

There's a huge pop!



The crowd go wild! Pyro goes off in blue, white, and red, and the new RPW Extreme Champion comes out from behind the curtain in his wrestling gear and an "Ambrose Asylum" t-shirt. Over the t-shirt, the newly won title belt strapped round his sexy Kurt waist.

Tazz: Here he is, he's got RPW gold!

Kurt bends over and then throws his arms in the air, pointing upward, as pyro goes off once more, all over the stage. He makes his way down the ramp.

"YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!"

Kurt takes it in, including the ironic adulation from the capacity crowd, before entering the ring and spinning around like a madman, arms wide open.

Jim Ross: And say what you will, but his amazing endurance at 48 years of age earned the man that championship title belt.

Tony Chimel gives Angle a firm handshake before leaving him his microphone and exiting the ring. The song dies down and Kurt smiles out at the crowd.

Kurt Angle
...

About to say something, he refrains from speaking. The crowd's cheers are too loud at the moment, so he just takes it in.

"YOU DESERVE IT! YOU DESERVE IT! YOU DESERVE IT!"

Kurt points at the face of his championship belt. And calmly says.

Kurt Angle
Oh, it's true.

"IT'S DAMN TRUE!

The crowd cheer loudly again. Kurt is almost overwhelmed by this reaction from the crowd, but soon enough regains his composure.

Kurt Angle
The moment I drove into that arena on Sunday I knew exactly how I was going to come out. The same way I have countless times before: with championship gold on my passenger seat. You know, it's not for nothing that RPW All Out Brawl managed to go toe-to-toe with Wrestlemania. It's because guys like me, Quincy Reagan, Jeremy Stevens, Goldust, Dean Ambrose... We were out here giving it our all to ensure that you had the best freakin' show you could possibly get. I dare any one of you to look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't get your money's worth at All Out Brawl.

Once more, the crowd cheer.

Kurt Angle
This title belt wasn't easy for me to win, no. I won't say it was. I'm forty-eight and I know damn well that if it were fifteen years ago I would've had that match wrapped up in five minutes, but I didn't. However, that doesn't mean crap, because here I am, regardless, - Angle unstraps his belt from around his waist and hoists it up for the world to see - your new and first ever RPW Extreme Champion!... And an American hero.

The crowd cheer.

Kurt Angle
But I'll get to my point. Dean Ambrose.

The crowd now cheer for Ambrose, Kurt points at the t-shirt he's wearing.

Kurt Angle
Dean Ambrose gave me one hell of a fight last week and I can honestly say I bit more than I could chew heading into that match against someone like him.

The crowd, again, cheer.

Kurt Angle
No, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying it was a good match. You all saw what happened out there.

The crowd now go a little more silent.

Kurt Angle
The only reason I didn't win in record time was because that son of a bitch played dirty.

The crowd now boo.

Jim Ross: Oh, cawm awn.

Kurt Angle
No. No. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Steel chairs, low blows? Is this not professional wrestling? This kind of complacent, talentless, dumb, stupid-looking fiend has no place in a professional wrestling ring. He has no place in a pro wrestling ring, and he definitely, definitely has no place in a ring with me. An Olympic Gold Medallist being beaten up with foreign objects by some CZW jabroni?

The crowd are torn between cheering for Ambrose and Angle.

Kurt Angle
Oh, is that what you pay to see? Is that why you come to a wrestling show? To see some jackass who makes a living out of opening himself with pizza cutters for the entertainment of a bunch of rednecks and sweathogs, step into the ring with an Olympic hero and get the upper hand by sneak attacking with steel chairs? Is that what the Extreme Championship stands for, to you?

The crowd now solidly cheer for Ambrose because they're a bunch of fickle bastards.

Kurt Angle
Well, I'm officially renaming this belt to the 3 I's Championship. Intensity, integrity, and intelligence. And you can bring all the "extreme" you want, against me, you know I will outwrestle you, outsmart you, and-uh...out-integrity you. The crowd now laugh a little. And if it's a hardcore war that you want, then that's what you'll get. I've never been afraid to get my hands dirty, before, but from now on, for as long as I am the proud owner of this championship, I will not - I repeat, will not - use any type of foreign object to attack an opponent in a match, in any shape way or form. I'm going to show you all the true power of wrestling. Show you all why they call me the "Quarterback of Wrestlingball".

Angle rips off the Ambrose shirt and climbs to the turnbuckle.

Jim Ross: What on God's green Earth is Kurt doing?

Angle gets to the very top and leaps, Moonsault on the t-shirt! Some fans laugh. He gets back to his feet and grabs the microphone and his title belt.

Kurt Angle
THIS IS AN OPEN CHALLENGE! You want this title belt? You're gonna come have to rip it from my dead Olympic body. Oh, it's true. IT'S DAMN TRUE.

The crowd give a mixed but loud reaction, as Kurt steps back and awaits a response.



Oh, you didn't know?

The crowd erupts immediately.

Yo' ass bettah caaaaaaaall somebodaaaaay!

Out of the curtain comes Jesse James. It's as if he's stuck in '99 with his attire: his braids in a bun above his head, a white Tommy Hilfiger T-shirt, white shorts, white and grey Sketchers over calf-high white socks, and an actual black fanny pack. As usual, he's got a microphone in one hand and a water bottle in the other.

He stops at the center of the stage, looks to the crowd, and throws up an X high above his head. He takes a swig of his water bottle before almost immediately spitting it out to the synchronization of a single arm crotch chop. From then, he keeps his eyes on the crowd as he put the microphone back to his lips.

Road Dogg
But this I know you did know: it's me, it's me, that D-O-double-G.

His eyes goes from the crowd to the man in the ring, the RPW Extreme Champion: Kurt Angle. His points a finger at the Olympic gold medalist.

Road Dogg
And by the time the smoke is cleared, the brand new Extreme C-H-A-M-P.

Providence's cheers replace the now-fading classic theme music.

Road Dogg
Now, Atlas got me going one-on-one with the man Bourne to Fly, but when someone puts gold on the line, that motherfucker was born to die.

He gives the crowd time to show their support, which they do. The line was cheesy as hell but it's Road Dogg.

Road Dogg
I don't give a damn about no chairs or a damn pizza cutter. But by the time I'm done, yo' body's gonna be floating in a gutter.

The crowd still choose to go with it. He holds three fingers up.

Road Dogg
I got 3 I's of my own to you. Idiot. Ignoramus.

Two fingers have dropped and with the remaining index finger, he points again to Angle.

Road Dogg
And in-for-an-ass-whoopin'. Put up or shut up, boy. Time to drop that gold to the Dogg.

Dogg makes his way down to the ring and rolls in. He gets up and seems about ready to say something when Kurt Angle snatches the mic off of his hands. He's now holding two microphones, and speaks into both of them.

Kurt Angle
I thought you were retired.

Some fans laugh, some even start a small 'Road Dogg' chant.

Kurt Angle
You're what, 55 now?

Before Road Dogg can say anything, Angle continues.

Kurt Angle
Let me make this clear, buddy. You've been "wrestling" for like twenty years, and I've never even seen you pull off one single wrestling move. Yet, you seem to be confident that you can take this Championship off my shoulder. You're confident, Jesse, I'll give you that. But I'm afraid that "confidence" isn't one of the Three I's.

Angle gets closer to Road Dogg, still speaking into both mics, which is reproducing a very small amount of echo.

Kurt Angle
Intelligence. Intensity, and integrity.

Some fans cheer for the Three I's.

Kurt Angle
Now, it's a well known fact that you're an overall dumbass.

"OOHHH!"

Kurt Angle
What? It's true.

Some fans quieten down, but Road Dogg seems to be rather annoyed.

Kurt Angle
I clearly remember you and your pal "Mr. Bodybuilder" blindsiding two old men and throwing them into a dumpster, which says a lot about you as for "integrity". And there's no need to go back too far for "intensity", when you really tried your best last Sunday, and you couldn't get the job done.

Some fans boo Angle, and Road Dogg seems just about to punch him in the face.

Kurt Angle
Guys like me--

Angle is cut off by the loud feedback made by the two mics being held together two close, so he tosses one out of the ring. Fans laugh.

Kurt Angle
Guys like me are the reason you couldn't get the job done. Guys like me are the reason you can't get the job done. You weren't able to back then, and you're not able to now. You prance around out here with your cheap rap lines, get your ass handed to you, collect your paycheck and go home content. You know what that says about you, Roadie Doggie? You're unambitious, washed-up, overweight trash.

"OOOOHHHHHH!!!"

Dogg seems to be almost on the edge of murdering Angle, now.

Kurt Angle
But I'll put this in terms that even you can understand. Chimel, give me a beat!

Tazz: What?

The crowd pop.

Jim Ross: I think he's gonna do it again, Tazz!

Chimel reluctantly gets up, picks the mic up from ringside and starts doing a pretty bad hip hop beat with his mouth. The crowd are going wild as Angle prepares to go on one of his freestyles, in his own special way, with barely any rhythm.

Kurt Angle
Yeah, I'm a mean lean wrestling machine,
And you're a 90s leftover,
I'm the best that's ever been,
And you never got over.


The crowd pop again, with laughter.

Kurt Angle
You call yourself the D-O-double-G,
But your matches are a disaster.
You got an associate degree,
But I've got a master's!


Angle poses around, ecstatic at his performance, while the fans laugh at his senseless rap lines. Even Tazz and J.R. seem to be chuckling behind their mics.

Kurt Angle
You're an X-Pac wannabe,
And that's not much to look up to, Dogg
But if you had half of his heat,
They'd be calling you Hot Dogg.


What? Honestly this is terrible. Dogg then throws a slap across Angle's face, making him drop the microphone.

Road Dogg picks up the microphone that used to be Angle's that used to be his and holds it to his lips, as Angle turns to look in a weird mix of disgust and anger. Road Dogg slowly puts a finger in Kurt's face.

Road Dogg
Why don't you shut up, bitch?

That's somehow enough to restart the crowd's rallying behind the Roadie. Angle at this point has more than enough provocation to start a brawl, but decides to hold back.

Road Dogg
Now let's be real, Kurt. The only three letters you got going on nowadays are D-U-I.

The crowd gives another "OOOOOH!" as if the two were trading roasts in the middle of a high school cafeteria. Angle looks at Road Dogg with a slightly confused expression.

Road Dogg
Oh, don't act like you didn't know. Oh, it's true. You know it's damn true.

Angle's seething only continues. Stealing catchphrases - things have gotten serious. Road Dogg walks around the ring a bit, focusing his eyes back on the Olympian when he begins to speak again.

Road Dogg
In fact, I heard back from a couple of ya bunk buddies from the lock-up. Rumor has it, you too like to keep your shiznet... dog-gie style.

The crowd has fully returned to Dogg's support by now.

Road Dogg
Hey, I wouldn't be surprised. I heard Jeff taught Karen a lil' something about that - maybe it rubbed off on you.

Angle gets right in Dogg's face, but before anything can happen, Dogg separates their faces with the microphone.

Road Dogg
Whatchu gonna do, big boy? You looked stressed. Like you need a drink. Here's one on me.

With that, Dogg sprays the water bottle's contents in the face of Angle, sending him retreating back. When Angle turns back around, his forehead is introduced to the butt of Road Dogg's microphone, sending him to the ground. He quickly recovers and gets up to his feet, but as he does so, a left jab comes flying to his jaw. Two more follow before Road Dogg does a juke and a jive, before laying the Extreme Champion back out with an unforgiving right hand.

Leaving Angle in the center of the ring, Jesse James sees his opportunity. He bounces off the ropes, does another classic dance and goes to land a knee. Kurt, however, grabs his ankle as he tries to hit it. Angle rises quickly to his feet and begins to apply the ankle lock, but Road Dogg's able to push him off and recover. As he approaches Angle, Kurt ducks a clothesline attempt and turns it into a textbook German suplex, folding the Real Double J in half. Up again comes Road Dogg, to suffer the same fate. And one more time - or so it almost was, until Dogg quickly rakes Angle's eyes and swiftly rolls out of the ring.

Despite what could be called a cowardly move, the crowd is one hundred percent behind Jesse James. For this reason, his music begins to play as he walks backwards up the ramp, keeping his eyes on Angle. The show fades into a commercial as it interchanges between a shot of Angle seething in the ring and Road Dogg constantly crotch chopping towards the champion.





Matt Sydal bounds out from behind the curtain, to a chorus of cheers from the crowd, putting a peace sign up in the air. He seems to have not let his loss in the Battle Royal at All Out Brawl bring him down too much, a positive energy still radiating from him.

J.R.: Sydal showed off his impressive arsenal of moves at All Out Brawl, but wasn't able to secure the win!

Tazz: That's cos he went to the top rope J.R.! You never go to the top rope in a battle royal! That's how Kane got me in the 2001 Royal Rumble...

J.R.: I distinctively remember him placing you on the top rope Tazz! And I also remember you only being in there for around 10 seconds...

Tazz: Yeah it wasn't a great showing...

After high fiving fans in the front row, Sydal leaps up onto the apron, and bounces over the top rope and into the ring. More peace signs, and the crowd go quiet as his entrance music dies down.

J.R.: And we were originally going to see this man go up against Jesse James, but since he's taken up Angle's open invitation, he'll be facing Brodus Clay instead!

Tazz: It'll be a David versus Goliath match-up that's for sure!



Brodus Clay throws the curtain one side, met by boos, and chants of 'GIANT ORANGE', thanks to his bright fiery singlet. He, as usual, ignores the audience as he pounds his way down to the ring.

J.R.: Whilst me may look like a ferocious opponent, and he is, Brodus Clay is not unbeatable Tazz.

Tazz: He certainly isn't J.R., but you do need to be on your A game if you want to secure a victory over him. It's not impossible, but it certainly aint easy!

Once in the ring, Brodus strides over to Sydal, and displays his huge height and weight advantage as he glares down at him, before chuckling.

The bell rings.

Sydal leaps straight through the air and cracks a kick into the side of Clay's head, knocking the man dizzy as he stumbles backwards. Sydal bounds of the ropes, and jumps back with a clothesline! Clay teeters but stays on his feet. Sydal bounds back again, another clothesline! Clay still doesn't go down! Sydal gets the crowd on his side as he jumps straight back into the ropes for another clothesline! He bounds back... Clay SMASHES him to the mat with a shoulder block!

J.R.: The size and strength advantage coming straight into play!

Clay wrenches Sydal to his feet, before tossing him back down with a Scoop Slam! Sydal rolls into the corner and starts to pull himself to his feet, Clay charges at him! Corner Splash! Sydal is about to crash to the mat but Clay holds him against the turnbuckle as he goes for another run up... Another corner splash! NO! Sydal moves and Clay crashes face first into the turnbuckle!

Sydal lands a dropkick into Clay's back, knocking him into the turnbuckle again, before he starts to stumble backwards. Sydal locks him up in a Reverse DDT position... SPLIT LEG DROP DDT!

Tazz: Ooh! Sydal using that beautiful modified DDT we've seen in the past!

Clay rolls around on the mat, as Sydal moves into place... STANDING MOONSAULT SPLASH! Sydal gets the cover...

1...

2...

Clay throws him off! Sydal flies across the ring just from the sheer power of Clay's kickout!

Tazz: Jesus Christ!

J.R.: What a kickout!

Sydal runs right back at the big man, but he's back to his feet now! Battering Ram from Clay! Sydal soars off of his feet and crashes to the mat! Clay bends down and lifts Sydal up, before irish whipping him into the ropes. Clay gets ready for a back body drop... but Sydal rolls over his back! Clay turns around, HEADSCISSOR by Sydal! Clay crashes face first into the ropes, before going down.

Clay pulls himself back to his feet, but Sydal begins landing kick after kick into Clay's legs, before he crashes a spinning roundhouse across his chest. Clay falls backwards into the turnbuckle, where Sydal starts to bound into him with clothesline after clothesline. But Clay reverses one of them, ducking down, grabbing Sydal's leg, and attempting to throw him out of the ring...

But Sydal clutches onto the apron! He throws another kick up into the face of Clay, knocking him away from the turnbuckle, before he starts to climb to the top rope. He gets up there, throws out a peace sign, and leaps...

DIVING CROSS BODY!

NO! Clay catches him! Clay throws Sydal up onto his shoulders, and plants him down with a brutal SAMOAN DROP! Clay gets back to his feet, runs at the ropes, and bounds back towards the downed Sydal, and jumps into the air... THE SPLAT! He crashes down on Sydal with all of his weight, the near 400 pounds of it!

J.R.: My God! That has gotta hurt!

Tazz: I bet you could hear the crunch all way up in the cheap seats!

He hooks Sydal's leg...

1...

2...

...3!

Brodus Clay defeats Matt Sydal in 7:14

J.R.: And Clay secures the victory!

Tazz: I told you, a win against him isn't easy J.R.!

Clay doesn't even stop to celebrate, immediately leaving the ring and walking back up the ramp to the stage. The crowd boo him, but he ignores it entirely, before exiting through the curtain. Sydal meanwhile still stirs in the ring, only just being able to get up into a sitting position, clutching his stomach tightly. The cameras fade to black.

He had never heard of a gut throbbing in pain, but somehow, that was exactly what was going on. His back ached as well, but his gut was throbbing. He wasn’t too surprised, though; twenty minutes of total non-stop action can only be expected to make someone’s stomach turn.

His gut throbbed, his back ached, but those are the things he knew. The facts, what could be established without doubt. The struggles resided within his mind, his emotions. How did he really feel?

He and Kevin Owens had put on an absolute clinic. It was a catch-as-catch-can classic from bell to bell. A bout that made sure to wake the crowd up for the rest of the show. An exhibition that lived up to its hype so well that all men involved could not deny the respect they had grown for each other. Yes, that was another thing he was sure of: he had now respected Kevin Owens.

But goddamnit, it should’ve been his. He was undefeated before tonight. Momentum and ability were both on his side. That RPW World Championship felt so damn close. But there he had laid. One, two, three. He heard the referee’s hand slap against the mat for those three death tolls. He had felt Kevin Owens hook his leg. He had seen the lights shining above him. He heard the crowd chant the numbers. But something wouldn’t let him push out of it. He wanted to, oh goodness, he wanted to. All that had to be done was to push his head away, to force his leg from his grip, to draw his shoulder up just a little. But it never happened.

So what’s a man meant to do? He was a father. Someone two growing children looked up to. Someone who had been through much worse. Someone who taught himself honor because no one else would. Could he allow himself to be bitter? Would it be fair to feel envy when, at the next pay-per-view event, Kevin Owens’ name is announced as ‘challenger’? How did he really feel?

He was taken out of his thoughts when Ted the Technician patted him on the back as he rounded the corner towards the locker room. After their passing pleasantries, he grabs a water bottle from a table just before the locker room and enters the door.

Jesse James daps him up as they switch places - Quincy Reagan in and Road Dogg out. It’s a large room, with a row of at least twenty lockers along the wall. He sits on a steel chair against the lockers after grabbing what has to be his duffle bag. In that same time, his phone goes off.

He reaches in his bag and pulls out a cased iPhone 6s. “Sheila” read the caller I.D., and in the moment he saw, he once again found himself pondering how he really felt.

Quincy Reagan
Hello.

His greeting was simple. Neither happy nor sad; neither excited nor angry; neither positive or negative. Almost like a symbol of their relationship at this point, his greeting was stale. It was simply a “Hello.”
Sheila
You shook his hand?!

That, on the other hand, was definitely said with emotion. Disgust roared in between each syllable.

Quincy Reagan
Whatchu hollering for, girl?

Sheila
You had the nerve to shake that man’s hand? After the shit he pulled?

Quincy Reagan
You talking about Owens?

Sheila
I dunno, Q, who else would be talking about? Ol’ ignant ass acting nigga.

Quincy Reagan
Aight, you can calm down now Sheila. Yeah I shook the dude’s hand, why acting a fool about it?

Sheila
After what those two did to me, in front of your kids. You’re gonna shake his hand?

Quincy Reagan
After a match like we had, yeah, Sheila, I’mma shake his hand. My kids should’ve been in the crowd watching that happen, too.

Sheila
Oh, they saw it. I let them watch on the TV. But never again.

Quincy Reagan
Because I decided to be the bigger man? You mean to tell me they had a fit over that?

Sheila
Nah. Nah, they were proud.

Quincy Reagan
And that doesn’t make you proud?

Sheila
No. It terrifies me.

He heard the three beeps signifying the end of a call. He dropped the phone from his ear and looked at the ground. He didn’t know how to feel.





Boos rain down, as The Cannibal, Thorn, emerges out of the curtain. He stands on the stage, huffing and puffing as he takes a look around the crowd at the fans in attendance, before snarling and continuing down the ramp.

J.R.: The Cannibal showed us that he is the dominant force that he says he is at All Out Brawl! With the combined forces of Bint Smith, the pair of them controlled the ring for the majority of the match, and Thorn himself actually cleared the ring of a couple of competitors!

Tazz:But he came short J.R.! You can eliminate as many people as you want, but if you aren't the last one standing in that ring, it doesn't matter.

J.R.: Well nonetheless, he left a lasting impression! If I was Quincy Reagan tonight, I'd be weary of going up against a man like Thorn!

Thorn climbs into the ring, before circling around on the mat, grunting to himself and doing his signature screams at random and surprising intervals. His face is one of pure anger as he awaits his opponent.



Despite sustaining his first loss at All Out Brawl, the reception for Quincy Reagan is still as loud as ever. He walks out of the curtain, small smile on face, his arm raised in the air, as he makes his way down the ramp, dishing out high fives and fist bumps to those on the front row.

He reaches a particularly excited pair holding up a Quincy Reagan sign, a gay looking tea coloured individual, and an incredibly tiny Spanish looking bloke he at first believes to be a child, before double taking. He high fives the pair of them, and compliments their sign, causing the two to look overjoyed, before he continues down the ramp.

J.R.: Reagan too coming off of a loss tonight from All Out Brawl!

Tazz: And not just any loss J.R., but his first loss! And one that ultimately cost him a shot at the RPW World Championship!

J.R.: Well Reagan is mighty confident Tazz! If anyone can rise back to the top, it's him!

Reagan climbs into the ring, and raises his arms again, before climbing the turnbuckle, and nodding his head at the fans in attendance, before looking briefly at the hard camera. He then jumps back down, before facing his opponent Thorn.

The bell rings.

Thorn charges at Reagan, who immediately takes a hold of his opponent, the pair locking up in a test of strength. Quincy quickly gets the upperhand, tossing Thorn onto his back on the mat. Thorn screams as he attempts to quickly jump back to his feet, but Reagan lifts a well placed kick into Thorn's face, knocking him dizzy as he slumps back to the mat and rolls out of the ring.

Tazz: Thorn uses the same tactics every week, and he ends up in the same place for it every time.

J.R.: Thorn is not known for his intelligence that's for sure.

Reagan gets some fan support as he raises his arms in the ring, angering Thorn who rushes back to his feet and jumps onto the apron. But Reagan lands an elbow into his stomach, winding him, before suplexing him back into the ring! He pushes Thorn onto his back and covers him...

1...

Kickout!

Reagan wastes no time lifting Thorn back to his feet, before lifting him up for an Oklahoma Slam... but Thorn slips off of his back! He pushes Reagan into the ropes, who bounds back and flattens Thorn with a clothesline! Thorn dizzily gets back to his feet, not knowing where he is, until he's smashed right back down with another clothesline! Quincy lifts The Cannibal back to his feet, and plants him back down in the center of the mat with a scoop slam!

J.R.: What a scoop slam!

Tazz: Reagan is having no problem controlling this match so far!

Reagan covers Thorn again...

1...

2..

Kickout!

Thorn rolls himself out of the ring this time, to try and get away from the onslaught by Reagan, which gets audible boos from the crowd. Reagan follows him out however, and grabs him by the head before attempting to throw him back into the ring, but Thorn elbows him in the throat! Thorn follows up by grabbing Quincy's head, and slamming it into the ring post, knocking him to the concrete.

J.R.: Oh God! Vicious smack into the ring post there!

Tazz: Thorn taking control back in the best way he knows how!

Thorn stomps on Reagan multiple times, before lifting him up and guiding him into the steel ring steps! Reagan collides with them shoulder first, before crumpling to the concrete. The referee shouts at the pair to get back in the ring, shouting a count of 7. Thorn yells at the referee to shut up, as he picks Quincy up, and tosses him under the bottom rope back into the ring, before climbing inside himself. He lifts Quincy and positions his legs on the top rope, before clutching his head... ROPE HUNG STUNNER!

J.R.: STUNNER! ROPE HUNG STUNNER! That might be it!

Reagan crumples to the mat as Thorn rolls him over and hooks his leg...

1...

2...

Kickout!

J.R.: No!

Tazz: Reagan's not going down so easy!

Thorn mounts Reagan and lands punch after punch into his face, before grabbing both of his ears, baring his teeth, and sinking them into Quincy's forehead! Reagan roars in pain as Thorn continues to bite at his head, before finally releasing him, and slamming the back of his head against the mat.

Reagan riggles around on the floor, holding his forehead, as Thorn stomps around the ring. As Quincy starts to pull himself to his feet, Thorn locks him up in the Full Nelson! Reagan grits his teeth pain as Thorn keeps the hold locked in tightly, before he starts to flex his muscles and roar, getting crowd support... REAGAN rips his arms out of the hold, shocking Thorn!

J.R.: Reagan powering right out of the Full Nelson!

Eyes still wide with shock, Thorn forgets to block the right hook that Quincy slams into his face. Thorn stumbles backwards into the ropes, and bounds back right into a POUNCE! Thorn flips half way across the ring before plummeting into a turnbuckle! The crowd go ecstatic from the display of power from Reagan!

J.R.: BAH GAWD!

Tazz: Holy shit!


Thorn is hoisted back to his feet by Reagan, who irish whips The Cannibal into the ropes... Thorn bounds back...

MICHINOKU DRIVER!

J.R.: HE HITS IT! THE MICHINOKU DRIVER!

Tazz: And good night Thorn!

Reagan hooks the leg...

1...

2...

...3!

Quincy Reagan defeats Thorn in 10:49

Tazz: Yep! Reagan scores the win!

Reagan raises his arms the victor, as Thorn lays completely out of it on the mat. Reagan climbs the turnbuckle, before once again pointing into the hard camera, and this time shouting 'I won't let you down again! I won't!'. The crowd cheer, as Reagan climbs back down from the turnbuckle, and exits the ring.



Last edited by Tony Atlas on Sun Apr 16, 2017 6:21 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Re: RPW Showtime: Episode 5

Post by Tony Atlas on Tue Apr 11, 2017 12:31 am





Sharply dressed in a pinstriped suit and silk tie, with the RPW World Championship belt slung over his shoulder, Howell Saxon strides down to the ring, greeted by deafening boos. Undeterred by this, his smug grin is wider than ever in the wake of his new status.

Tazz: Here he is J.R.! Our new RPW World Champion!

J.R.: That may be something I refuse to call the man Tazz!

Tazz: Well, whether you want to admit it or not, it's true!

As he enters the ring, he even turns round to the crowd and gestures to the belt, chuckling arrogantly at the crowd’s disgusted vocal response, he gestures for the mic, which is reluctantly passed to him.

Howell Saxon
So. I hear Stevens has a bit of recovering to do.

Tony Atlas, sitting at the table, shakes his head sadly to himself, trying not to let his disgust show too much. The crowd have no such reservations, and start booing and hissing again.

Howell Saxon
Hopefully that’s taught him that I’m not to be messed with. Not that anyone here should’ve needed reminding… I’ve made my skillset clear enough to you all on multiple occasions, after all.

The disgusted boos continue. Howell grins, basking in the crowd’s hate as per usual.

Howell Saxon
You can yell your protests at me all you like, you bloody idiots! You saw what happened at All Out Brawl. I won the RPW World Championship, and anyone who doesn’t like that is just going to have to suck it up and live with it. Because, frankly, I’m the only man here who’s the least bit worthy of that belt. Take a good hard look at a man with real skill. Real talent. And now real status. And I’m not going to let that status fall out of my hands anytime soon.

As Saxon goes to say something else he is interrupted by the sound of a car horn going off repeatedly.



From behing the curtains pops Kevin Owens in the driver seat of a clown car. As Kevin is driving down the ramp, the clowns become more and more apparent.He parks the car about 6 feet from the ring and honks the horn one more time before leaving the car. As he starts walking up the steps, a gaggel of clowns start to walk out of the car all holding different things: balloons, juggling balls, normal clown faire, etc.

J. R.: What kind of buffoonery is this?

Kevin walks between the ropes to the table and the clowns follow. He takes a mic from the table. Tony Atlas begins laughing and tries his best to hide it.

Kevin Owens
Look Saxon, I know that you are new to this whole being a champion thing. I have been champion everywhere I've been, so I've been there before. It's stressful, it's frightening, you're uncomfortable.

Kevin looks him up and down.

Kevin Owens
Well more uncomfortable than usual. Anyway, I wanted to make sure your time as champion is as enjoyable as possible, so I brought some of your people to the ring to ease you into the situation.

The fans laugh and cheer for Owens. Though hardly a fan-favourite, he's still a lot more popular with the RPW Galaxy than Howell Saxon. The clowns prance around the RPW Champion as Owens can't help but laugh in his face.

Kevin Owens
Let's be real here, your reign as champion is going to be short lived and forgettable, but hey you beat Jerry Stevenson. Good for you. Do you know why you're the champion? Because you've never faced me. You've never faced anyone who's wrestled as long as me. You've never faced someone who will do anything to win the title like me.

Kevin hands the contract to Tony Atlas and then proceeds to throw the table to the outside of the ring.

J. R.: Owens started things off with a joke, but he's getting right down to business, now!

Tazz: Well, power to him! He's been held back in lieu of Jeremy Stevens and Howell Saxon. Kevin Owens is not the kind of man you hold back in a wrestling company. Just ask Jim Cornette, ask Vince McMahon. This is why he's here and not there.

Kevin Owens
You like to think that you're the most evil and maniacal person in RPW. That's also because you've never faced me.

Saxon laughs, and looks down at his title. Owens grabs his face and pulls him closer.

Kevin Owens
LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH!

"OOOOHHHHHH!!!"

Even Atlas seems taken aback by Owens' intense attitude toward this match.

Kevin Owens
That title belt? You won it because me and Chris Jericho let you win it. You have it right now because me and Chris Jericho are letting you have it. Come Locked & Loaded, you'll never see that belt again. Because you are a talentless snake with a good shit-eating grin and that's it, that's the only reason this company put their eggs in your basket. Not because you have what it takes, but because you make a good bad guy for ratings.

Kevin lets go of Saxon walks away to gain a cool head. One of the clown tries to pat him on the back but he shoves him away, before turning back to Saxon.

Kevin Owens
You know why some people boo me? It's not because I play a "bad guy" or because that's what the plants the company puts in the audience are told to do. It's because I tell the truth. If I run someone down, it's the truth. If I insult someone, it's the truth. So you and all of these people will know I am telling the truth when I say that you are the most expendable and generic person in this company and you'll be lucky if you have a job in three months. And I for one can't wait until you get your ungrateful and smirky ass out of my ring.

The crowd are fully behind Owens as he runs down the current RPW Champion. He gets right in his face.

Kevin Owens
You're the Ryback of RPW.

"OOOOHHHHHH!!!"

J.R.: Bah Gawd!

Tazz: Oh shit!

Saxon has had enough, that last comment has crossed the line.

Before Owens has time to react, Howell snatches the mic off him defiantly. The crowd’s mood drops immediately, the cheers fading into boos and hisses. Howell’s signature smirk immediately spreads back over his face as he raises the mic to his lips and stares Owens down.

Howell Saxon
You say I’m generic, eh? You think there’s nothing that stands out about me? Well, maybe you’d have a different perception if you actually focused on things that matter – things like training, talent, the ability to deliver the goods. But that’s unrealistic to assume of you, isn’t it, Owens?

The crowd continue booing, but seem interested to hear where Howell’s going with this.

Howell Saxon
Maybe if you spent more time hitting the gym and learning how to throw a punch or successfully carry out a grapple or throw, you might have this belt over your shoulder right now instead of me. But no, Owens, you’re more concerned with your clowns, your golf carts, your two-man bicycle with your precious little bosom buddy Jericho. Flashy showmanship, overblown theatrics… they won’t get you anywhere, mate. My old MMA instructor would have a thing or two to say about your work ethic.

Owens is seething, but Howell doesn’t let this deter him – he leans forward and gets right in Owens’ face. The crowd goes quiet, tense.

Howell Saxon
Memo to Kevin Owens. Ostentatious theatrics are no substitute for hard, hard work. But I guess you wouldn’t know about that, since you seem to let Jericho do all that for you.

Rage flashes in Owens’ eyes as yells erupt from the crowd – half disgusted, half excited to see the drama unfolding. Owens’ posture is tense, fists clenched white-knuckle tight, but he tries to contain himself. Howell grins, ready to push Owens as far as possible.

Howell Saxon
That said, I suppose I should give you credit for at least coming out here to talk to me. Makes a nice change. I suppose that means even you know you’ve been doing bugger all for this federation? You were right about one thing – I do get ratings.

Howell turns around to face the crowd.

Howell Saxon
For as much as you all whinge about how much you hate me, how much you want me out, you need to face the facts – you love watching me. I can deliver a great match, and I can fucking win it too. More so than this lazy little nobody here.

The crowd boo and hiss as Owens clenches his teeth. Howell pushes past the clowns and steps up to Atlas who stills holds the contract. He takes Atlas’ pen, ready to sign the contract, but seems to decide he’s not done yet. With a smug chuckle, he turns to look at Owens again.

Howell Saxon
In fact, I can’t say I’m all that impressed with your public speaking either. I mean, how many times do you have to belabour the point that I’ve never faced you? And you call me repetitive! You’re a bloody hypocrite and a loser, Owens!

Owens finally seems about ready to snap. He steps up to Howell, getting right in his face.

Kevin Owens
What did you call me?!

Howell Saxon
You heard. And don’t bother saying anything in your defence; you know I’m right. Cheap, flashy shitshows are all you’re good for.

Howell turns back and signs his contract, but hangs onto the pen. He turns back to Owens.

Howell Saxon
For what it’s worth, Owens, I hope I do get to fight you soon. Just to expose you for the fraud you are. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get to fight you and Jericho at once, since you two seem to be so close!

Howell throws the pen in Owens’ fuming face.

Howell Saxon
We all know he’ll give me a better fight than you ever could.

Owens stares at Howell with pure hatred while Howell stands and laughs at his enraged opponent. Atlas is shaking his head in disbelief.

J.R.: These two men look like they're about to explode!

Tazz: Well, Owens certainly does J.R.!

Just when it looks as though Owens is about to charge at Howell, the clowns around the ring all jump into action. Saxon is taken aback, as they begin doing various clowny things. One of them brings out a series of plates, and starts spinning them on sticks. Another clown takes out little balls and starts juggling them, whilst the one next to him pulls out a balloon, and starts shaping it into a dog in front of Howell's very eyes.

Saxon starts to laugh, raising an eyebrow at Owens as if to say 'Really?'. But then, just out of sight of Saxon, a clown behind him starts to reach into his jacket, and pulls out a List. But not just any List...

The List of Jericho!

J.R.: What's that clown doing with the List of Jericho!

THWACK! The clown cracks the list over Saxon's head, knocking him to the mat, as the crowd burst into cheers. The clown pulls off it's curly green wig, to unveil below it is none other than Chris Jericho himself.

J.R.: BAH GAWD IT IS CHRIS JERICHO! IT IS HIM!

A dazed Saxon tries to pull himself to his feet, but Jericho charges at him...

CODEBREAKER!

Saxon plummets to the mat, unconcious, with Owens and Jericho standing over him, smiles on their faces. Jericho moves over, grabs the contract and the pen, and hands it to Owens, who quickly signs the papers as the crowd pop. He throws the contract down on Saxon, before he and Jericho smile at one another, and exit the ring.

J.R.: And you can consider that message sent and recieved Tazz!

Tazz: The contract's been signed, we'll see these two men go at it for the RPW World Championship at Locked and Loaded!

The clowns follow the pair as, in the Clown Car, they drive back up the ramp, and out through the curtain. The camera rests on the unconcious Saxon before the scene fades out, into a commercial break.



We cut back from the commercial, and the ring is now clear of any clowns, tables, and unconcious champions. Instead, it is just Tony Chimel, stood in the centre.

Tony Chimel: The following contest is for the RPW Extreme Championship!



'Oh, you didn't know?

..

'Yo' ass better call somebodaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.....!'

The crowd pops and begins almost immediately to chant along with the familiar line. Out of the curtain comes "The Road Dogg" Jesse James, a microphone in his right hand as he continues to drag out the last syllable of "somebody". In the left is a bottle of water, as per his usual custom. He moves to the left side of the stage until he's finally done, immediately putting up an 'X' towards that side of the arena. He begins a walk to the other side and once there, the 'X' is flashed for that side. He begins to make his way to the center of the stage.

Road Dogg
Providence, Rhode Island, you know how it be.

He begins to walk down the ramp.

Road Dogg
Y'see, it's me, it's me, it's that D-OOOOOOOOOOO-double G! Back once again in that sports E-N-T!

As he finishes, he stops about three-quarters way down the ramp. He takes a deep swig of his water bottle and begins a crotch chop with his microphone hand. With every chop, he spits out a quick fountain of the water. Once he's done, he jerks the bottle in such a way to force out a large spill before tossing the bottle into the crowd and quickly rolling into the ring.

Tony Chimel: The challenger, hailing from Marietta, Georgia, and weighing in at 241 lbs, the Road Dogg... JESSE JAMES!

J.R.: Jesse James is no doubt looking to leave here tonight with that RPW Extreme Championship around his waist!

Tazz: I think he'll find taking that belt from Angle will be harder than it may seem!

Once in the ring, Jesse James doesn't have much more time for any theatrics, as Kurt Angle's theme hits.



With the RPW Extreme Championship Belt around his waist, The Olympian Kurt Angle comes out from behind the curtain. Kurt bends over and then throws his arms in the air, pointing upward, as the signature blue, white, and red pyro explodes from the stage behind him.

Tony Chimel: And from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 240 lbs... he is the RPW Extreme Champion... KURT ANGLE!

"YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!"

Kurt smiles and takes it in, before he makes his way down the ramp towards the ring. Once inside, he opens his arms wide and starts spinning around, before stopping as he locks gazes with Road Dogg, the smile falling from his face.

J.R.: It takes some guts for Kurt Angle to put his championship on the line so soon after winning it!

Tazz: Well that's because there's no doubt in his mind that he'll be keeping it J.R.! And there's not much doubt in my mind either! From one Suplex Machine to the other, Angle is a legit athlete, and I wouldn't be surprised if that belt stays around his waist for quite some time!

Angle and James glare at one another from opposite sides of the ring, both of them looking anxious, waiting for the sound of that bell chiming.

The bell rings.

The pair immediately run at one another, but Angle's quicker! He swoops behind James' back and locks him up around the waist, before lifting him, tossing him around, and planting him down on his face. Angle controls James on the floor, pushing him down with his weight, before manouvering around into a front head lock! James starts to power out of it, so Angle puts on more pressure... but James lifts him up over his head... Back Body Drop!

Tazz: See! Already that mat wrestling prowess is on display!

J.R.: Yeah, and look where that's gotten him Tazz!

Angle clutches his back as he gets back to his feet, and James is running at him from the ropes! Jumping Elbow Smash! Angle gets up! Another Jumping Elbow! Angle gets up again but eats a dropkick! He stumbles back into the ropes, and tries to create some momentum as he charges back! But he runs straight into a Big Boot! The Olympian crashes to the mat as James goes for a quick pin...

1...

Kickout!

J.R.: Quick kickout there from Angle!

The Road Dogg wastes no time, grabbing Angle around the head and picking him to his feet again, setting him up for a DDT... but Angle pushes him away! James hits the ropes and bounds back, runs straight into a Kitchen Sink! Road Dogg tries to get back to his feet, but Angle grabs him around the waist yet again, lifts him, and plants him with a Belly to Back Suplex!

Tazz: That's it! Bring on the suplexes!

Angle lifts James again, clear anger on his face... SNAP SUPLEX! He picks him up... Another Snap Suplex! Tazz is getting hot under the collar! Angle moves over to James' arm, and applies it with the Fujiwara Armbar! James roars in pain, as he looks around for the ropes, to discover to his misfortune that the pair are in the middle of the ring. James begrudgingly starts to crawl...

James reaches out towards the bottom rope, but Angle releases the hold and pulls James back into the middle. He goes to apply it again, but James is waiting for him... he rolls Angle up!

1...

2...


...KICKOUT!

J.R.: Bah Gawd! We almost saw the title change hands right there!

There is a look of shock on the face of Angle from the nearfall. Road Dogg looks dissapointed, but doesn't let himself dwell on it, already at his feet and charging at Angle. He goes for another Big Boot, but Angle ducks it... Dogg turns around, right into a lift from Angle... TILT-A-WHIRL BACKBREAKER! Dogg collapses to the mat clutching his back as Angle covers him...

1...

2...

Kickout!

Tazz: Oh so close!

Angle goes back on the offense immediately, wrapping his legs around James' stomach and applying a Body Scissors! James starts to grunt and roar again, whilst Angle only applies more pressure to the hold, before eventually letting go as he eyes up the turnbuckle. The Olympian moves over to it, and starts to climb.

J.R.: He's taking it to the top!

Tazz: Where's Angle going?!


The crowd start to cheer Angle as he gets on the top, measuring James... The Road Dogg starts to get to his feet... Angle leaps...

MISSILE DROPKICK!

James crashes backwards to the mat with Angle landing next to him. Angle reaches over and hooks his leg yet again...

1...

2...

Kickout!

J.R.: And James kicks out!

Tazz: James has been through a lot here! Not sure how much longer he'll be able to hold on for if the match continues this way!

Angle jumps back to his feet, looking even angrier than he was before, as he starts to remove his singlet straps from his shoulders, the fans getting a load of his gum shield as he roars. Cheers can be heard as he moves back over to Road Dogg, locking him up around his waist for a German Suplex...

ELBOW! Angle loses his grip as Road Dogg cracks elbow after elbow into his face, before dropkicking him in the back and causing Angle to guillotine himself on the middle rope. With the Olympian stuck in that position, James charges at the ropes behind him, before bounding back at Angle... LEAP FROG BODY GUILLOTINE!

J.R.: And James could be making a comeback here!

Angle clutches his throat as he falls backwards into James' clutches, who keels him over with a knee to the gut, before putting the Olympian's head between his legs... he lifts him... POWERBOMB! Angle lands flat on his back, with James already bouncing off the ropes. The crowd pop as James does his shaky knee dance, before dropping the SHAKY KNEE DROP! Right across Angle's chest!

James covers him...

1...

2...

Kickout!

J.R.: Oh! Another nearfall!


James gets up on his knees, shaking his head in disbelief almost at the kickout. He pulls Angle back to his feet, and sets him up for a Spike Piledriver... Angle reverses it! DOUBLE LEG TAKEDOWN! James stumbles back to his feet, and Angle capitalizes on it... GERMAN SUPLEX! He keeps a hold of James, and rolls him over for another... GERMAN SUPLEX again! He still has a hold of him... one more...

A THIRD GERMAN SUPLEX! Dogg lays on the mat, clearly dazed, as Angle gestures for him to get back to his feet... James does so...

Tazz: This is it... if Angle hits this, it's over!

ANGLE SLAM!

No! James pushes out of it! Angle turns, right into a LEFT JAB! The crowd start to get rowdy, as James cracks Angle with another left! And another! It's time for the Shake, Rattle, and Roll, as James does his juke and jive, before setting up for that final right hook!

But Angle ducks it!

James turns around...

ANGLE SLAM!

Angle plants James to the mat, before he rolls on top of him for the cover...

1...

2...

...3!

Kurt Angle defeats Jesse James in 16:02

Tazz: What did I tell you J.R.! That title ain't going nowhere, it's staying right around that man's waist!

Fans cheer as Angle stands up victorious, and whilst many are disapointed with Jesse James falling short, they can't help but feel excited about the match they just witnessed. The referee moves over to Angle, gifting him the RPW Extreme Championship belt, who holds it up above his head with pride.

Tony Chimel: Ladies and gentlemen your winner, and STILL RPW Extreme Champion... KURT ANGLE!

With James having rolled out of the ring, Angle moves over to the turnbuckle, climbing it and lifting the title belt high into the air, roaring yet again. But the crowd response starts to change, the cheers turning to screams and boos...

Angle looks confused as he jumps off the turnbuckle and turns around... CHAIR SHOT TO THE SKULL! Angle crashes to the mat as Ambrose stands there, steel chair in hand.

J.R.: What the- No!

Tazz: Aww! Come on Dean!

Angle tries to regain his bearings, but Ambrose crashes another chair shot down onto him, and another, Angle slowly losing conciousness under the never ending chair shots. The crowd turn on Ambrose for the act, who seems entirely un-phased by the fan response.

He throws the chair down onto the mat, before he grabs Angle by the neck and lifts him to his feet. He hooks Angle's arms, and positions him over the steel chair...

J.R.: No! Come on! Not like this! Dean! DEAN!

DIRTY DEEDS! Right onto the steel!

J.R.: OH BAH GAWD!

Angle is slumped over the steel chair, unconcious, as Ambrose looks down at him with a mixed expression of both satisfaction and furiousity. The Lunatic spits on the downed Angle, the audience booing the disgusting act, before he moves over to the RPW Extreme Championship belt. He lifts it up and looks at it, a smile emerging onto his face, before lifting it up almost triumphantly.

Ambrose then moves over to Angle, and drops the title belt onto him, before moving over to the ropes and climbing out of the ring. With a mixed response still echoing from the crowd, Ambrose walks slowly up the ramp and through the curtain backstage, as the show fades out.

[END]
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