Summerslam 2024 Card and TTs

[rawisrey]

The tron in the arena lights up in a red hue as white smoke fogs the room being shown, the camera panning up to the King of Strong Style and the Ring alike, Shinsuke Nakamura. He looks into the camera and shakes his head as he begins to speak in Japanese with his words being translated by captions at the bottom of the image.



Shinsuke Nakamura: LA Knight took my words as an offense, being told you're afraid of something is always a shot to a mans ego. It's healthy to be afraid Knight, but you are adamant that you aren't. If you were to admit you were full of fear I would at least commend you on being aware of your situation, but since you aren't...I believe it's another lesson you must be taught. People see fear as an obstacle, one they must overcome to better themselves but it's such a shortsighted view of a strong emotion. Fear, you must understand is more than a mere obstacle. Fear is a teacher. the first one you ever have. I plan to teach you many new things, now that you are a subject of mine. As your new King, there is a new hierarchy in the UWF. One I know someone of your stature wouldn't take kindly too, but that is what our new relationship is about. Me opening your eyes and showing you the new way of your world. You love your facts of life, but life as you know it is about to change at my hands.

Shinsuke pulls his hand up, his fingers curling and dancing around as he stares mesmerized at his own appendage before he continues.

Funny how different we seem to be, yet how alike we all really are, we’re all the same when you think about it. No one really remembers the day he was born. We all have to trust another’s word on the matter. It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, we believe it and make it part of our lives. Just having a birthday, a day all about yourself, makes one happy I think. But for you LA Knight, every day is about you. The crowd sings along with you, the UWF Championship is in your possession. You are the face of this company and business, and yet...What is a face to a knee? What are Million Dollar eyes to my fog? Ironic how someone who has it all like you, would still find himself wanting for more. You wanted all the attention, and now you've got mine. And you will learn that you should be careful what you wish for, because all eyes are on you now...And that makes you the perfect tool for me to use in opening them.

Nakamura looks down smirks before he raises his crown in his hand shifting it around to see how the light shimmers and reflects off of it.

I am the King of the Ring, a tournament that saw me defeat people with more fight than you, more drive and want than you, even people who have bested you. I've strolled down this entire roster without a care in the world, and racked up body after body. Because my true nature was locked away, it was hidden from the world and now that I had the nerve to unlock it and set it free...I am showing everyone the true potential of Shinsuke Nakamura. You have been a worthy champion, one who fought hard to win the Royal Rumble...Who stood face to face against a seemingly unstoppable champion, and has proven he is main event material. You are a Star, LA Knight. But even a star as great as the sun, can be eclipsed. My rise, means your downfall, because what I desire is chaos. A Million Dollar Champion, with every hair perfectly in place for the cameras, is going to be injected with a dose of Chaos that will shatter his picture perfect life. Knock Knock Knock, do you hear that knocking on your door? It is no longer opportunity that beckons you, it is Shinsuke Nakamura who is at your door. Building my Kingdom on the ashes of the grand mansion you've built and insulated yourself with.

Shinsuke smirks and tilts his head to one side, his hair dangling down as he almost seems psychotic as he speaks.

When we first crossed paths, I introduced myself to the Championship I desire and ignored you. You took it as an insult, but I considered it mercy. I stopped from meeting you at the time, I prevented you from being on my radar...and now you will learn what a gift that was as we become Very Acquainted. From here on in, you will doubt your abilities, you will question your resolve...Your looking glass will day by day tell you a long and unhappy story, one introduced and written by me. For once I've taken the World Championship, once I've moved on and found others to focus on. You will remember the feeling of helplessness you felt, in the face of the King. Everything you think you know, can be manipulated and shifted. Fear is Freedom, Subjugation is Liberation, and Contradiction is Truth. These are the facts of your new world and you will surrender to them. Just as you will surrender that Championship to me, and do what comes naturally to everyone who faces me... You Will Take a Knee. YEAOH![/font]

[Sam]

'Skullseeker' immediately blasts out of the PA system causing the crowd to  rise to their feet. As Randy suggested, The Mighty Caleb makes his way out onto the stage full of piss and vinegar - he holds his fist high in the air for the 'SKAL!' chants. Caleb locks eyes with Orton who stands stageside - Caleb reaches out and stagehand hands him a microphone.

The Mighty Caleb: Did I hear the howl of a mighty dire wolf?... or did I hear the pitiful yelp of a puppydog?... Once more I'm inclined to believe that with you, serpentile one - your bark is bigger than your bite. Indeed the last time we met we all found that to be case - do you still run around with your young boys doing your bidding for you or have you grown closer to your little dented chair?. Whatever the case - you may have unfinished business with The Mighty Caleb - but Caleb has no business writhing around the ground with a serpent, vermin like you. I have defanged you once, I have taken your poison and spat it out - and while I know you have a most extensive bag of tricks... I know that my steel is more than enough to cut the head of the snake.

Caleb smiles as Orton sneers. Caleb turns his attention to those standing in the ring and makes his way down the ramp.

And look at this!... could the Gods have afforded The Mighty Caleb a more illustrious battlefield?. I mean we have 'The Viper' and his favourite chair all on his lonesome up there but who can blame him with such a field of competitors... but unlike Randy, The Mighty Caleb has courage, The Mighty Caleb has grit between his teeth and unlike Randy... quite clearly... The Mighty Caleb has a set of steel plated balls to step between these ropes...

Caleb joyfully steps through the ropes to be surrounded by a den of wolves.

This is what Caleb lives for... for some weeks now The Mighty Caleb has been licking his wounds for at Final Battle it was I who failed to become King... and whilst defeat still stings like it was yesterday... whilst I still see shades of red in my slumber... I do not stand broken, I do not stand dispirited but rather determined. Nakamura may well be King and he may have knocked The Mighty Caleb a few rungs further down the ladder... but at Summerslam... The Mighty Caleb has been presented with an opportunity to climb those rungs once again... both figuratively... and literally!...

Caleb stops for a moment.

Though... The Mighty Caleb may not have the greatest memories when it comes to multiple warriors fighting atop steel ladders... in fact, one might say it was my single greatest defeat at Wrestlemania before I fell to Nakamura at Final Battle... but in any case, it's a chance of redemption, a chance to right wrongs... and most of all it's chance to beat all of you wonderful warriors to pieces with twisted, beautiful shiny steel!

Caleb once again becomes his jolly self even upon noticing Vincent in the far corner.

Ah!... 'Horror King'... and here was The Mighty Caleb believing he had finally rid this company of your disgraceful image for good!... how foolish... it appears however that perhaps The Mighty Caleb knocked some sense into you with that shield all those months ago... I mean you stopped running around with those abominations for one, that's progress and now you stand healed, focused... if I wasn't so wary of who you could be, I'd offer you congratulations... perhaps another day. I sense you and I have more business to attend to in this ring and whether that be at Summerslam or further down the line... I welcome those battles, those blood-soaked wars for those are the battles which make a warrior a great warrior and I look forward to testing my metal against yours once more.

The same can be said of Rick Rude... we have what can best be described as history... we've had our battles... and you have won most of them. But another opportunity to test my steel against a warrior as capable as you is always welcomed... I just hope I don't hurt that pretty face of yours when we're ten feet high in the air and fighting for the great prize - a sorcerers box which can grant a world championship shot whenever you desire!... just think of the possibilities I mean you could use this magical item when the champion is lying defeated - you could use it to engage in a great fight out there in the great multi-story stable where they keep your mechanised horses!... you could even use it when the champion is sat atop the crapper!...

Caleb is all smiles until he noticed Drew McIntyre looking thoroughly unimpressed. 

What's wrong big man?, are you not in favour of using sorcery in such ways?... I sense you're more of a sword and shield type man and I can respect that for that is the path I too have chosen. Drew, our paths have crossed a couple of times now and we've done battle - or perhaps, skirmishes... and I always enjoy them. How could you not?, for months on end you ruled the roost as the champion of the world, the one true leader of the Revolution Realm. Number one. But now you stand, scratching and clawing for the same opportunities as all of those you bludgeoned and kept beneath your feet for so long... you must have thought that having lost the title, perhaps the target wouldn't be so large on your back... make no mistake Drew, all of us here view a victory over you as a victory over a great warrior, a former World Champion, one of the best... perhaps it's why you're so guarded, so surly... maybe a proper scrap with The Mighty Caleb will put a smile on that big Scottish mug of yours?

[Dres]

Vincent raises his microphone and takes a few steps forward.

Vincent: Well, I guess you can place your bets now, folks, because everyone that’s going to say their peace has spoken. The NWO have certainly made it no secret that they think Rick is going to run away with it, but in my estimation? Nah! But while I’m talking about Rick, let’s discuss how foolishly worded one of your boasts was. You, “held off” Kyle O’Reilly for an hour. Newsflash, bran for brains, you lost that match by two falls so in actuality, Kyle held you off. But when you’re ravishing, you don’t let the truth or the details get in the way of a good story, right? Like the story that I only ran through the NWO because you weren’t there to stop me. Trust me, Rick, plenty of shmucks in the black and white garb showed up during that match, each one arguably more capable than you, and Larry Sweeney still couldn’t keep his heart beating or his precious reign afloat so you being there wouldn’t have made a difference. But ooooh, you don’t fear me! Whatever shall I do? You don’t think I’m as good anymore! How will I live? Fact is your opinion means very little to a former UWF Champion that’s about to put it around his waist again. So keep puffing out your tired, old chest and tell us all for another consecutive opportunity why this time is going to be any different because I’ll be waiting on the Revolution following Summerslam to point out that my prediction of your failure was correct.

See, I don’t really care what motivates any of you, I care about what motivates me and what motivates me besides scenarios like this that promise I get to be as violent and to the wind with caution as I please is knowing that while I reap glory, the rest of you will reap none. I’m going to make history at Summerslam and once again give generations to come reason to speak my name long after I’m gone. And you will all bow to your, “Horror King”.

[mattchewie]

Rude looks around to all that are inside of the ring and begins pantomiming a series of einey meiney miney mo. He shrugs his shoulders and stands up. He gives off the spooky fingers, classic Scott Hall style.

Rude: Sorry, Scott…I owe you one. I guess I’ll start with Orton. Finally, someone addresses me as the capable threat that I am in this match. Not only you, but Caleb. Anyways, is it supposed to bother me that your father hated me? Whenever the highlight of his career was being Piper’s bitch? Are you going to follow in his footsteps and be my bitch once again whenever this match comes around?

Rude turns to look at Drew.

Rude: Don’t worry, Caleb. He just has that Claymore sword he usually totes around shoved so far up his ass that it makes him a bit cranky. Drew, it’s awfully bold of you to assume that I’m attempting to climb on the UWF high horse, when in reality…I’m already atop it, and you’re just having trouble accepting that you’re no longer a player in the end game. Granted, you’ve got the height advantage here, but I dare you to try and unseat me from this high horse. Spoiler alert, you’re not even going to get close. And it’s nothing about taking me at my word, by any means. Just pay close attention and see just who walks out of this match with the briefcase in hand. Sorry to burst your bubble, Drew…but it definitely isn’t going to be you.

You see, these people may think that you dissecting every single word that I said is your way of retaliating back at me, but I know the truth. The truth is, you’re attempting to discredit me just to make these people actually believe that you stand half of a chance at defeating me. Careful, kid…you’re starting to sweat bullets! Whenever I mentioned that I had beaten you, I just said a loss is a loss. The fact that you had to go and dig it up to make it seem as not that bad of a loss just really sets it in for all of these people to know that you truly doubt your chances of winning this whole thing, at the very least getting past me. You’re just out here bitching about me talking about being on the shelf for a while, because I took your opportunity to come out and bitch and moan about the same thing.

Rude turns to look at Vincent.

Rude: Seems like to me that you need to take heed and learn the lesson that Orton and Caleb both have. Each of them underestimated me, and look at where it got them. Just for clarification, because you obviously have been hit in the head far too many times…I used the terms “held off”, because it was an even 5-5 up until the final minutes of that match. Kyle didn’t take off with a two point lead until the final minutes of that match. But, I get it…you’re unsettled, you’re realizing that you’re out of your league against me. You’re out here grasping at whatever straws that you can to tear me down word for word just so that you can seem like you have some sort of advantage against me. Some may even say that the Horror King is showing some semblance of fear.

Rude shrugs his shoulders.

Rude: Something that I think each of you need to realize just to make every bit of this a lot easier to understand. I am the friggin’ franchise of this company. I’m the best friggin’ wrestler on the roster, and I am the highlight of each show, no matter what it is. There isn’t a single one of you that could hold a candle to me in that ring. There isn’t a single one of you that can do what I can do in that ring, better than me. And there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that any of you will be walking away with that briefcase, come Summerslam.

I’ve spent far too long being held back in this company to allow this motley crew be what stands between me and finally capturing the UWF championship. I’ve been given my opportunity and my chance to take the wheel and I will be damned if I am going to let any of you take it away from me. Kyle had to take my arm out of socket, twice just to get the edge up on me…looking at what I see before me, I don’t see anyone that will be capable of pulling such a strategy off on me during this match. So go on, attack me for my age, attack me for my arrogance, attack me for whatever you think that you may be able to. You’ll all just be in for the biggest Rude Awakening of your lives whenever it is me that climbs that ladder and retrieves that briefcase when all is said and done. I am the only one in this match who has the experience of carrying the big belt for an entire territory, while only two of you have the experience of holding the big belt for the trends of followers online and whatnot. I think it is high time for this company to be led by someone that has those old school values as well as having learned some of the new school trends. A few years ago, I turned the Intercontinental championship into the single most sought after championship in the company, perhaps it's time for me to do that again and finally bring some glory to the UWF championship after I win this briefcase.

Rude holds up his hands like a “What’s next?” gesture.

[AndyDNU]

What’s next ends up being the sight of McIntyre stepping forward and eying up all of the combatants in the vicinity before raising his microphone to issue a response.

Drew McIntyre: You know, having listened to what you’ve all had to say so far, the biggest takeaway I’m getting from this is that you all seem to care more about me losing this match than you do about winning it yourselves… Now sure enough at various points in both the recent and distant past, you’ve all beaten me in some capacity, so on the face of it you’ve got no reason to doubt that it can be done again, save for the plainly obvious fact that you’re all still struggling to see things from my perspective, which contrary to what you want to think, is the clearest one here.

The Scottish Warlord turns and sets his direct sight back on the former two-time Intercontinental Champion.



Drew McIntyre: I get that you’re probably gonna be the one to take the greatest exception to that statement considering that you have a tendency to see all of your own business through rose tinted glasses… But if anyone here needs the biggest reality check then really there’s no finer candidate than the guy who thinks that he’s got everything all figured out and then actively tries to slam the figurative door in the face of anyone that’s got the means to prove him wrong. On the face of it, a loss is indeed a loss, but if I didn’t dive deeper into the reasons as to how and why it happened, then I’d basically be admitting to the world that I had no problem or issue with a misleading, dishonest hypocrite having free rein to twist any and every narrative as they see fit. We all know that you like to waltz around the place Rick with your big boy pants on, but the truth of the matter is that the resident UWF big boy pants belong to me, because the past year has shown that I’m the only one here with the cojones big enough to fit them!

Some background “Ooohhs” emanate from the crowd at that jab as McIntyre now moves to focus on The Mighty Caleb.

Drew McIntyre: Now if what I’m led to believe is correct and that you are indeed a smart lad with good survival instincts, then you’ll do well to disregard the views of Mr “Franchise” over there by focusing more on what I’m actually saying and less on guessing what my current thought process is based on what you seemingly perceive my demeanor to be. I’ll admit that in the past I haven’t really been able to properly appreciate the sense of the occasion when you and I have been stood inside this ring before Caleb, perhaps on account of the fact that we were both focused more on our respective quests; as you might call them, at the time… I guess it was an inevitability that fate would end up sending us down the very same path at some point though, and now here we are, ready to smash and bash some skulls in order make amends following respective major setbacks. As cute and poetic as your descriptions of this powder keg situation are though, whatever redemption you’re seeking that will make up for your failed attempt at becoming Norse King will have to be found elsewhere, because that “magic sorcerer’s box” will be my spoils of the war to come.

The former UWF Champion takes a step towards Vincent’s direction and begins to speak openly again for a moment before focusing in on his former nemesis.

Drew McIntyre: I appreciate though that we’re all in a very interesting but also odd and intriguing situation here, emphasized by me finding myself agreeing to an extent with some of the things that the old Horror King here is saying… Some that is, not all… You see in a way, Vincent, I am kind of relying on you to be the one in this contest that will favor the play of outright stupidity over common sense. Like, for example, when there’s one or two chances to grab for the briefcase at the same time as there’s a prime opportunity to leap onto an already fallen opponent that’s resting on a folded ladder... I’m counting on you to pick that latter outcome because in your sick mind you know that there’s more to be gained from flying through someone than grabbing at something… And whilst you’re well within your rights to act the smartarse now and claim that you only need to do that five times to guarantee victory, I know you haven’t got that much in you, because I’ve seen that even your outright madness still has its limitations.

As McIntyre takes a step back, his attention naturally moves on to Randy Orton who is continuing to observe from afar.

Drew McIntyre: But if you wanna put that to the test, I’d recommend going after the one that decided to try and give you a steel chair makeover first… I hope you’re enjoying the view from up there Randy, because where you’re at now is a pretty accurate reflection of how close you’re gonna be to the briefcase as I’m unhooking it… I’ve admittedly found it mildly amusing that despite having beaten me fairly recently, you’re still generally coming across as a whiny little bitch. As far as jokes go though, I reckon I speak for damn near everyone when I say that you standing there envisaging yourself as “Mr Money in the Bank” is in fact the biggest one going. And in a match that features the likes of a Viking cosplayer and a wannabe mob boss, that’s really saying something!

A few laughs and cheers echo out as McIntyre moves back to one of the free ring corners and awaits the next response…

[Danny]

 

 
Sami Zayn's music hits and the crowd does a 180, booing the hell out of the Television Champion as he comes out with of course, his two golds. Also his two protege's flanking him. He's already got a mic in hand and decides to speak from the stage.



Sami Dos Oros: Sorry folks but nap time is over. It's time to wake up and enter the real world, the same one where Sami Dos Oros is and will continue to be your Television Champion.

Lots of heat from the crowd just imagining a world where he has a long reign.

Sami Dos Oros: I'm pretty sure that was a nice dream you had there Tony but that's all it was. A bit weird though that you were dreaming I had a rat face because like look at me. I'm not Tyler Breeze but my mom said I was the handsomest boy in the world growing up. Something I'm sure you've never heard because you don't exactly have a great family now do you?

A bit of an "Ohh" breaks out from the crowd followed by booing for the low blow.

Sami Dos Oros: Hey I just call them like I see them. For a man who calls himself a Don, I've never seen any sort of family or friends watching your back. It's just week in and week out of you getting made a fool of by me. You can't say you didn't bring this out on yourself bud. These guys right here, they look out for me. They're as El Generico would say, Mi Familia. They're not just hanging around with me, hoping to leech off my superstardom and become famous. They're my support system. They lift me up when I'm down and I help them by any means I can. Whether that's spreading the word of their orphanage or simply training them so that one day they can surpass me. We don't just use each other. You'd know that if you had an actual family.

Another dig at the family. Sami is trying to get under Tony's skin but the man isn't biting.

Sami Dos Oros: Or maybe you do have a family. One that despises you. That's probably why you've walked the path you do. It's why you see everything so black and white. I mean what kind of real caring family would let their son fall into the seediness that is becoming a Don? Or are you just cosplaying as a Don because it makes you look better? Does it give justification for your lack of style and technique in the ring? I'd say it doesn't matter so long as your racking up wins but that hasn't exactly happened now has it?

You thought you'd just waltz in here and things would be easy huh? Because the thing about being a Don is, you don't get your hands dirty. Other people take the fall for you while you just sit on your ass and collect a paycheck. There's no room for people like that in my UWF. I'm actually glad you called me out. While I don't think you've earned this match, I was going to get to you eventually so why not take care of this problem sooner rather than later.

[Xander]

After what feels like an eternity from the last words spoken, Orton lifts the microphone back to his mouth.

Randy Orton: I’m standing here and trying to take in what all of you are saying, but there’s this ringing in the back of my head. And I know that should be normal for me, odds sounds going on in my head. But it’s just getting louder and louder, because I look at all of you and I eee men that I simply can’t wait to destroy. This ringing in my head is my body so filled with emotion, so excited, like a child waiting for a present to be handed to him and he doesn’t know how to contain the joy. And as you all talk, the ringing grows because I just can’t wait to break each and every one of your jaws. I truly don’t think any of you understand the violence that awaits you at Summerslam, but I do and it’s incredible.

You can watch the realization happen on Orton’s face, joy comes over him, the smile. He looks over at The Mighty Caleb who is the closest to him.

Randy Orton: I understand why you have this cockiness around me. You are one of the very few who has beaten me in a very long time. You were someone who caused me one of those missed opportunities. But in case you forgot, that wasn’t your doing. And I know you may have created some delusion in your head about how your victory against me was so grand, how it was part of your march towards the finals of the King of The Ring. But two facts remain, I lost to you because of a man I have since sent packing out of this company. And when it came to the finals of the King of the Ring you proved that you had no business being there. You embarrassed yourself and showed the world why it should’ve been me. But a predator is patient, a predator waits for the perfect moment to strike and this match is where I get to exact the pound of flesh I am owed. So you want to say you’ve defanged me, lets see at Summerslam if I strike just as hard.

Orton’s gaze turns back to the ring.

Randy Orton: As for the rest of you, Vincent…you were the first to come out here. The first to pound your chest and declare this match for yourself. But I look at you now in that ring, I look into your eyes and I see the realization you are having. I can see as we file out into this arena and you get a good look in the flesh, what you have to compete against. I can tell you’ve given up already. I can tell if there were a way to back out of this you would do it because you aren’t as dumb as many believe. You realize you have no place in this match. But you ran your mouth, you are locked in and now you must face the consequences of what real horror will look like as you are eaten alive. As I feel your blood running between my fingers while I smash your skull into steel and canvas. And we both know how I do love to hear your skull crack against steel.

Orton again delicately places his hand on the dent that is from Vincent’s skull weeks ago.

Randy Orton: And then there are you two, let’s be honest one of you is a former UWF Champion and the other one has had the best run out of anyone in this last year and I think that includes the loud mouth holding the big title now. One of you holds a victory over me and one of you is desperate to get a win back after I whooped you in front of the world.

Orton looks over at McIntyre and gives a wink.

Randy Orton: So what do we do about this, because I’m looking to get over that hump that I seem to be stuck at since I came back last year. Drew you are desperate to show the world you are back on track after losing your title and then your dignity. And Rick, honestly I don’t know what you want Rick. Should it bother you that my father hated you? I don’t know, I mean you were a pretty hated guy in the locker room and you seemed to thrive in it. Do I care if you care? Not really. Does any of this have anything to do with the fact that I owe you one hell of a beating, no. Rick, your rise as astonishing as it has been it comes to an end now. I will stomp you back to reality the way I should’ve when we faced off months ago. I underestimated you then, I will not now. No I look at you as not some weak little animal to be toyed with before I go in for the kill. No Rick, you are the fellow predator that I take pride in ripping their throat out. You seem to misinterpret understanding that you are a threat and not knowing I’m going to beat you from pillar to post.

Orton’s eyes float over to McIntyre again. His rye smile creeps across his face.

Randy Orton: And believe me Drew this isn’t about you losing. No, because I’ve already beaten you. I prove nothing beating you again the same way LA Knight proved nothing taking you out. I know it’s hard to get through your thick Scottish skull but something in this world isn’t about you. This isn’t about any of you. This is about Randy Orton finally getting what he deserves, what he’s earned, what he was destined to have. And there’s not a damn thing any of you can do to stop me.

Orton slowly lowers the microphone as he takes another look at each man.

[Dres]

Vincent raises his microphone again as he looks at Orton first.

Vincent: Give in? Back out? Nah man, neither of those things are something yours truly would ever even think about doing, let alone want to or actually go through with it. I get it though, you’re struggling with your emotions and mental health. It’s a real Inside Out 2 situation and you’re projecting your own feelings onto other people but the man you think is the weakest is actually the strongest. And you would think with my longevity and my legacy, I wouldn’t have to point that out but maybe the voices in your head make you slow to learn or catch on to things. Well there’s one language I know you speak fluently: pain. That you understand perfectly, and that’s enjoyable to me because while you seem to be misreading the scenario with your words, at Summerslam there’ll be no mistaking that you’re grasping the gravity of the situation because I’m going to flatten you with it.

Vincent now turns his attention to Drew McIntyre.

But I suppose you aren’t the strongest listener either, are you? I’ve already said I’m not going to sacrifice the opportunity to capture the briefcase just for the satisfaction of hurting someone further but there you are counting on me doing it anyway. You stand there and talk about my limitations, when if anything, my standing here is more of a statement about yours. With all I put you through to push you to the edge and beyond mentally, emotionally, and physically and with all this outside hype and reputation and all of your own self-promotion…you couldn’t keep me on the injured list more than temporarily. And now, just like you were the reason I didn’t become a two-time UWF Champion, I’m going to be the reason you don’t.

Vincent now looks at Rick Rude.

As for tv’s Tom Selleck over here, I’m looking forward to the one-two punch I get to deliver to the NWO soon because I’m going to take you out at Summerslam and then I’m going to use this Prime Time Medal to take Kyle out. Because quite frankly, I know I’m not the only one sick of watching WCW reruns when Revolution airs and you and your retirement home pals put on the black and white for a skit or two. But that’s stopping soon, because this is no laughing matter for anyone but me. And I’ll be laughing at the five men I leave bleeding and broken while I adorn myself with more opportunity.

[crann]

Malevolence's "Self-Supremacy" hits the P.A. and the fans are on their feet, considerable outrage already being lobbed at a thus far empty stage. It takes the fans a few moments to realize that, in fact, Charlie Dempsey and his father have no intentions of entering the arena through the usual route. Instead, Dempsey hops the barricade near commentary and Regal follows behind him at a more ginger pace, weathering the adversity of this capacity crowd who are none-too-happy to see the Brits. Dempsey rolls into the ring once he's at its side, while Regal moves to the nearest ring steps and shuffles up them, then moves along the apron, scraping his boots on that hardest part of the ring before entering it and retrieving a microphone from his inside breast pocket to address this rabid crowd and, more importantly, his son's Summerslam opposition.



William Regal: When I was told that my son would have a berth on the card of the first premium live event to air after he joined this, the greatest and most esteemed professional wrestling promotion in the world today — I was pleased. Pleased because it meant that my faith in him was not misplaced. Pleased because it meant that he really is as great as I think he is. Pleased to see that my estimation of his talent as prodigious was as accurate as every other prediction and estimation I have made since returning to this company. But then...

Regal pauses, raising a hand to hush the still-upset crowd. The jeers slow.

...then, I saw who Mr. Carter had booked as his opponent and, frankly, all of my pleasure turned to naught. You see, at Summerslam, my son should be celebrating his momentous victory over the Intercontinental Champion. He should be given the opportunity to showcase his abilities against one of the greatest active competitors in the company today. I am not unreasonable. Unlike some in this company, I won't parade my son out here and demand world championship opportunities every time my hand clutches one of these microphones. But a man like Vincent would suffice. Or Rick Rude. Someone with the caliber and resume that says they are not to be trifled with. They are serious opposition, for serious contenders. Instead, my son has been booked in a rematch with that bottom-feeding leach, Leyton Buzzard.

Regal's insult draws another wave of heat from the stands. Some of these fans have gotten behind Buzzard in recent weeks, in no small part due to Regal and Dempsey's consistent bullying. Regal's expression turns serious as he admonishes the crowd.

Oh, silence. Silence! You may think your opinions matter, but it is not the vox populi that you've all paid to hear, it is not the fat slob in the third row that you have all paid to watch fight — nor that dimunitive dullard that my son will destroy at Summerslam. Whether you like it or not, whether you acknowledge him or not, it does not matter — my son, Charlie Dempsey, is the reason so many of you have paid for your tickets or subscribed to the UWF Network. You do so because you want to watch him fail. You want to see him suffer. He is better than you — so much better — and that is something your collective egos cannot abide. Which is why, when Mr. Buzzard latched onto my son in a desperate plea to ride his name to relevancy, you all cheered for him. It's why you got behind him, and why you'll support him at Summerslam. And it's pathetic.

More heat from the crowd. Regal and, especially, Dempsey, soak it up, Charlie beaming with a sadistic grin. His old man, meanwhile, puts on a serious and feigns concern as he begins to pace and continues talking.



The simple fact of the matter is that, whether you acknowledge it or not, Mr. Buzzard has become the lamb you are all sending to slaughter. He is your avatar — the man who, with his career of mediocrity, simple stupidity, and utter lack of ability, best represents you. And so you've pinned your hopes and dreams to his chest, praying that it will work like a suit of armor to keep him safe from my son — the man who very nearly broke him just a few short weeks ago. But you have fooled yourselves, and you are destined for nothing but disappointment. You see, while Mr. Buzzard continues to tout my son's disqualification loss as a victory in his books — and perhaps it is, in the strictest sense — he again shows how foolish he is by omitting the context. He won only because my boy chose to let him win. It was an act of mercy. But Charlie made a promise before that match — and it still holds to this day. So, Mr. Buzzard, here we are. A month later, and you continue to plague my son with your nonsense. Which means we again present you with the option.

Dempsey leans into his father's microphone as Regal leans back, grinning smugly.

Charlie Dempsey: Tap out or snap out.

With that, the microphone is lowered and the pair are slammed with a wave of jeers from the stands. They await a response from Charlie's opponent.

[mattchewie]

Rude turns to look at Vincent with a smirk. He lets out a slight chuckle.

Rude: What’s the matter, Vinny? Did you run out of material to shoot with so you had to run back to the same old scrap pile that everyone else uses, retirement home? Come on, man. I had at least hoped that you’d come up with something original? Going after my age? That horse has been beaten to death, long ago. Or wait…is it just that you’re jealous? Jealous because you know that by the time that you’re my age, you won’t be able to pull off even half of the stuff that I do in this ring? See, everyone else thinks that you’ve got this maniacal and sadistic laugh…but, I seem to think it’s more of a nervous laugh, than anything. You’re starting to laugh now, because you’ve realized that this isn’t going to be the cakewalk that you thought it was, and that has you sweating bullets. It’s kind of sad, really. After all this hype that I’ve seen go on for years and years, I expected more out of the Horror King. It’s sad that you can’t really live up to the hype, after all.

Rude lowers the microphone and turns to face Orton.

Rude: I believe the appropriate term that you were looking for was apex predator. No, no, I get it…that’s your moniker, I’m not trying to rip off a gimmick here, I’m just saying there’s always room for more than one apex predator. It just means that whenever the two find themselves facing each other, all hell breaks loose. Which, I am fine with, by the way. You’ve racked up some impressive victories lately, but don’t let that go to your head just yet, you’ll start sounding like Drew. You’re sadly mistaken if you think that you’re going to pull out a win over me, though.

Rude lets out a sigh and rubs his temples as he turns to face Drew.

Rude: Yeah Drew, if I had wheels I’d be a wagon, too. Does nobody else realize that he just prattles on and on incessantly? You may like to think that I see things through rose-colored glasses…but I am a realist, Drew. I call things like I see them. I just find it absolutely hilarious that the minute that someone calls you out on your bullshit, suddenly they’re looking through rose-colored glasses. Pot, meet kettle.

You seem to think that “this year” proves that you’re the only one fit to wear the proverbial big boy pants. I’ll give ya that one, if you’re referring to soiling those pants like some demented senior. I mean, let’s just look at the facts, you’ve lost more matches this year than you’ve won. “Those losses were bloody valiant losses, I’d like to see you beat those men who’ve beaten me, blah blah blah…” Oh, I’m sorry, did I steal your line? Well, allow me to go ahead and answer that. The simple fact is, I have beaten every man who has defeated you this year, with the exception of Knight. I’d be careful, Drew, of who I was calling a whiny little bitch, ever since first laying eyes on you, that’s all I have seen from you.

Granted, you may have pulled out the win on me during our last encounter. Bravo, very few men in this company actually have a pinfall victory over me. Consider yourself lucky. But, don’t forget, even while you’ve got that nose turned up higher than usual…I’m not done with you, yet.

I think I finally have it figured out. Aside from the fact that nobody in this company, in this ring, in attendance here tonight, or watching at home can stand you…I think you’re the most lost without having that title. Because, whenever you held that title…some people at least took you slightly seriously. Now, without it…nobody even bats an eye in your direction. It’s like…you’re just there to occupy space, now.

Rude shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head in pity towards Drew. He then turns to face the camera, Bischoff steps forward reaching for the microphone.

Bischoff: Rick has made it no secret, ever since he came back to this company that he was going to be gunning for the UWF championship. It just seems that he’ll need to handle a few distractions in this match. Each one of these men think that they’re going to win this match, but they’ve forgotten one thing. They’re not “Ravishing” Rick Rude. You see, there isn’t a soul in this company who understands just how driven he is whenever he sets his sights on something. And there isn’t a soul in this company who can do what he does in the ring. Granted, he’s had a few losses. He’s never posted the claim that he was unbeatable. However, any man that’s been fortunate enough to beat him, congratulations to them. They’ve actually accomplished something that very few ever have. But you may find yourself asking “why would Rick Rude be the one to win it, and allow me to answer that for you. This company needs to be led by an individual that can drive ratings, drive viewership, and drive competition. Whenever Rick held the Intercontinental championship for the first time, he made that the most prestigious title in the company. I would even argue that it was the most sought after championship, even ahead of the UWF championship. I think that it’s high time for a man like Rick to lead this company and make the UWF championship a fighting championship, rather than being toted along by some loudmouth or some gargantuan fool who has his head stuck up his own ass.