[We resume our tale already in progress... if you've missed the previous installments, please read Parts One, Two, and Three before continuing...]

The Lord of the Reign
The Titan Tower
Volume II, Chapter Seven
“In Which Chris Jericho Takes Charge”
   

Jericho and the gang walk into the Luxor to Heyman’s suite, Orton waddling behind while staring at the ground, looking for shiny prizes.

Heyman: The whole RAW Roster?
Jericho: Right down to Val Venis.
Heyman: No kidding.
Jericho: They are coming. They will not stop until they’ve destroyed Smackdown, until they’ve destroyed all hope of any of us ever getting even so much as jobber to the stars status.
Heyman: Now, this, Chris Jericho, this is EXTREME! Get the men prepared, everybody take up whatever you can find. Stools, chairs, lead pipes, garbage cans and lids, stop signs, it doesn’t matter. I won’t let what happened to ECW happen here.
Jericho: Oh, for god’s sake.
Tazz: Brotha, what happened in ECW was bad, but not nearly as bad as what’s gonna happen to Smackdown. I mean at least a lot of us had jobs after ECW, Paul E., but Vince and Hunta are aimin’ to kill us all.
Heyman: Oh stop it. They wouldn’t kill us. We’ll just hole up here in Vegas for a few weeks, prey off the tourists and then go on the road again when Vince gets off his power trip.
Jericho: Paul, you idiot! Vince will never be off this power trip! We’ve got to take the fight to him! I know you haven’t always been the best nuts-and-bolts planner, so leave that to me. Let’s send somebody out to get Cena back. He’s your most marketable star anyway.
Heyman: Nonsense, I’m running with a Charlie Haas main-event card.
Jericho: Gross.
Heyman: Nobody will come to help Smackdown. We’ve hired what help we can. Now it’s up to us and the grace of my financial skill and the drawing power of Carlito Caribbean Cool to save Smackdown
Jericho: Why don’t you call on Foley?
Heyman: Foley? Foley was nothing! Foley is nothing! A washed-up old author. What kind of draw will he be for my wrestling show? No, no. I brought back Sandman, though. Now that’s some good wrestling. Forget about that fat, washed-up old slob Foley, THIS is the kind of fat, washed-up old slob we need.

Sandman hits himself with a kendo stick and belches.

Heyman: All right! Non-wrestlers, inside the hotel.
Sandman: Sure thing, boss, but we need some more time to finish checking in.
Heyman: Forget checking in, if we can’t get enough rooms, we’ll sleep in the arcade.
Sandman: You got it.

Back in the forest….

Regal: …and that’s the story of the time I once wrestled a bear dressed like Kwee-Wee. Or maybe it was Kwee-Wee. Hell if I know, right? I was so drunk, I rogered a scone, yeah? Anyway, we’re getting together a little tupperware party tonight.
Chavo: With who?
Regal: “With whom.” Oh, you’ll see, chap.
Chavo: See what?

Suddenly, emerging from the trees, Dean Malenko, Ultimo Dragon, Lance Storm, Fit Finlay, Jamie Noble and Christopher Daniels come, bearing microwave-safe plastic covers and bowls.

Regal: Ah, the technical wrestlers have arrived. Good, good. We have much to discuss, gentlemen. Much to discuss indeed.

Back in Vegas, things are looking grim.

Tazz: Would you look at this brotha? Announcers? Producers? A handful of crappy wrestlers? Is that the Iron Shiek? Oh God. This sucks, brotha.
Jericho: This is the motley crew we’ve assembled to defend Smackdown in the great Royal Rumble, huh? That sucks. It sucks hard.
Orton: Speaking of motley crews, there’s Test.
Tazz: Ugh. Most of these guys should’ve retired by now. They’re too old.
Orton: Or too young. It’s too bad their promising careers will be ended under the crushing boot of Triple H’s glass ceiling, isn’t it? I mean, these suckers against RAW? They’re doomed. This is the most intelligent thing I have ever said. End program.
Tazz: Can’t say I expected to hear that.
Jericho: Well, if this ship sinks, I’m sinking with it.

Jericho storms off, Orton moves to follow.

Tazz: Let him storm off dramatically.
Orton: Yeah. He isn’t that pretty. I’ve got my looks to preserve, you know?
Tazz: Oh yeah. I know, brotha.

Inside the Luxor, Paul Heyman readies for battle.

Heyman: Sandman, what the hell am I?
Sandman: You’re the boss, Paul.
Heyman: What kind of boss kills off two companies in his lifetime?
Sandman: You know us, Paul. We would die for you, wrap ourselves in barbed wire, jump through 50 flaming tables. We are Hardcore.
Heyman: You’re right, Jim. The time has come for me to throw the gauntlet into Vince McMahon’s face and let him know that Paul Heyman is not afraid. He raided me for talent and destroyed everything that was great about ECW. He stole my ideas and claimed they were his; he tore me down and battered the people who were loyal to me. Now the same thing is happening here on Smackdown. Well, I won’t let that happen. No, sir. I will be the Savior of Smackdown. I am Paul Heyman. I am EXTREME! Hand over my coat. Hand over my Yankees hat. Give me my cellphone. Today is the day that Smackdown takes the fight to RAW.

Elsewhere, Chris Jericho is with Josh Mathews.

Jericho: Is this your first time holding a chair?
Mathews: No, no. I was on Tough Enough.
Jericho: So, yes?
Mathews: Uh… yeah. Hey, I heard we were all about to get slaughtered? That’s gonna suck, huh?
Jericho: Don’t worry, Josh, there’s always hope. So long as we aren’t cancelled, we’re just one big angle away from overtaking RAW again. Maybe you’ll even be involved in it.
Orton: I’ve thought it over, and there’s no way Smackdown will fail with somebody as pretty as me on it. 12-16 female demographic, here we come!
Jericho: Okay, I’m glad to have you on board, Randy, no matter what you’re here for.
Orton: I’m here for DESTINY.
Jericho: All right. Cool. Just don’t be dumb. I’m serious. Don’t be dumb.
Orton: The last hotel I was in gave me shrimp when I called the phone-answering-guy and ordered “DESTINY.”
Jericho: We don’t have shrimp. We don’t even have time.
Orton: We have TIME DESTINY. LOOK AT MY CLOMPASS. North to 2. We have 2 much time!
Jericho: Oh, Jesus. Okay. Randy, what’s Raw plus Smackdown?
Orton: Rackdown!
Jericho: Shorter…
Orton: Rack!
Jericho: Where can you find a rack?
Orton: Pretty girls!
Jericho: What is Stacy?
Orton: A pretty girl!
Jericho: Go find the rack on Stacy.
Orton: Does not- End Program.
Jericho: (to Tazz) Go put him in the corner and reboot him when the fight starts.
Tazz: Brotha, I gotta ask, do we have time to trim my beard? It’s totally itchy.
Jericho: Oh, for the love of f[expletives deleted].

Some unfamiliar music plays in the background.

Tazz: New music! At last!
Jericho: I don’t think that’s for you.
Theodore Long: Open the gate, playa! Get Heyman down here!

Down at the gate to the Luxor parking lot, superstars from Velocity file in, clapping hands with invisible fans, as is their custom.

Heyman: Wow. How about that?
RVD: Duuuude. I don’t know what’s going on. Where are we? Is this Detroit?
Heyman: Rob! I’m so glad to see you! Are you here to help Smackdown?
RVD: I guess. Aren’t Smackdown and Velocity pretty much the same anyway?
Jericho: Rob, it’s nice to have another upper-midcarder on our side.
RVD: Yeah! All right!!

Later that night, the RAW Army marches from their rooms at the MGM Grand looking out at the ring set up in the middle of the Strip. The Smackdown Soldiers stand on top of the small privacy wall encircling the Luxor and look out into the road. Sensing danger, Tazz reboots Orton.

Tazz: I can see my house from here, brotha. Hahahahahaha. Godammit, everybody up here is taller than me. Even Shannon frigging Moore is taller than me.
Jericho: This wall isn’t nearly as high as I thought it’d be.
Tazz: Well, Jericho, you’re the smartest one of us all. I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.
Orton: Even if he doesn’t, it’s not like we’re going to die. We’re vital parts of the overall story. I was told to say this by Shannon Moore. Did I get it right?
Moore: Everything but saying I told you to say it, dumbass.
Orton: It, dumbass!
Moore: No, don’t say what I tell you to say.
Orton: What I tell you to say!
Moore: I’m a soul-sucking moron.
Orton: I’m a soul-sucking moron!
Tazz: Yeah, well, I’ll tell you what, brotha, I just hope I can choke somebody out. I’m bored as all get out up here.
Jericho: No Mercy, guys. No Mercy.
Moore: Psst! Jericho! This is the Royal Rumble. Not No Mercy.
Jericho: Damn.
Tazz: I swear to God, I’m going to go kick Shannon Moore’s ass for being taller than me.
Orton: Well, I’ll say this for you, you’re WAY prettier.
Tazz: Really?
Moore: (whispering) Uh, sure. And I love your tattoos.
Orton: Uh… sure.
Tazz: Damn straight.
Orton: And I love your caboose!

The two sides stare at each other across the Strip. They’re content with a staredown, until Carlito spits an apple across and nails Road Dogg in the face.

Carlito: Now that was cool. Did you guys see that?

Pyro explodes and the RAW Superstars charge the ring.

Heyman: So it begins.
Orton: Hit them all with an RKO! That’s a cool move!
Jericho: FIRE!!

The Smackdown crew pelts the ring with half-eaten hot dogs, half-drunk sodas, wadded-up Orton t-shirts, and various garbage.

Tazz: That was my Pepsi. Goddammit, Orton, quit throwing my lunch.
Heyman: No! No! More lunch! Everybody throw Tazz’s lunch!
Tazz: Not my Ding Dongs. Noooooooooooo!
Jericho: Now it’s our turn.
Tazz: Play my music.

The buzzer sounds. HONK! Tazz’ music plays. Orton accompanies him to ringside. Tazz begins suplexing the hell out of Val Venis.

Tazz: Human Suplex Machine, Brotha!
Orton: You’re still not as cool as me.
Tazz: Yeah I am. That’s two suplexes right there.
Orton: Yeah? Well, RKO to this taxi driver. That’s, like, twenty guys right there.
Tazz: Is not!
Orton: Is too!

The ring slowly fills with Superstars. Meanwhile, the forest is slowly filling with Tupperware.

Chavo: Uncle Eddie! Wake up! I know the party is boring, but look at all the Amway I sold!
Regal: Well, we’ve come to a decision, chaps.
Eddie: And?
Regal: You will never win a World Title.
Eddie: Goddammit.
Chavo: Ha! Told you!
Eddie: What about Triple H? Are you going to make him tap out, esse?
Regal: Oh, we haven’t even talked about that yet.
Eddie: Well get to stepping, holmes, before he destroys the whole industry!
Regal: Well, you’ve got to understand, old bean, technical wrestlers are notoriously bad at cutting promos. It’s going to take poor Dean about three hours just to spout out whatever point he’s trying to make over there. I, thankfully, remain immune.
Eddie: What was that? I fell asleep again because you’re so boring, esse. Go talk Triple H.

Back at the Royal Rumble, things aren’t looking great for Smackdown. Tazz continues to suplex, but he looks winded.

Tazz: 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... (HONK) Oh crap! It’s Viscera!
Heyman: Viscera? Viscera? Is that all you’ve got, Vince? Is that all you’ve got, Hunter? Bring ‘em on. We’re Extreme! We’re Hardcore!
Jericho: That monorail is moving! Orton! Go stop whoever is trying to break into our hotel!

Orton runs back up onto the wall and jumps off it, missing the monorail by a good 30 feet and landing on his ass. Jericho shakes his head.

Heyman: Pryo people! Production Staff! Hold those monorail doors shut. This really sucks.
Jericho: Tazz! Hold them off!
Tazz: Tazz, hold them off. “Tazz, hold them off,” he says. What does it look like I’m doing? I’m running out of Suplexes is what. Geez, why the hell did I volunteer to start this thing?

In the forest, Eddie and Chavo meet once again with Regal.

Regal: We’ve come to a decision.
Eddie: And?
Regal: You should grow back the mullet.
Eddie: What about Triple H?
Regal: Oh, that. Yes, yes. We’re ignoring him.
Chavo: You’re what?
Regal: Truth be told, none of us really gives a crap about your stupid storyline. Sorry. Can I invite you for some tea?
Eddie: Shove your tea up your ass, esse vato! I hope Hunter makes you all job to him every day for a month until nobody will hire you ever again!
Regal: Oh, you bloody malcontent! It’s no frigging wonder we don’t help you! Besides, don’t you understand? Our kind of wrestling is dead. Dead, dead, dead. As lifeless as these here trees.
Eddie: These trees are alive.
Regal: Shut it up, you!
Chavo: Well, maybe he’s right, Uncle Eddie. Let’s just go back home to Texas. Maybe we can cross the border and wrestle in AAA. Wouldn’t that be fun, holmes?
Eddie: No. Don’t you understand, Hunter and Vince won’t stop at Smackdown. They’ll go on to Ring of Honor, TNA, AAA, to Japan, they’re going to take the whole World down, Chavito! It’s too bad these idiots are too stupid to understand.

Back in Vegas, Paul E. has things under control.

Heyman: What the hell is going on?
Jericho: We need to pull back the superstars not in the Rumble to protect the Luxor.
Heyman: Superstars not in the Rumble! Fall back! Protect the Luxor!
Tazz: 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... (HONK) Please, God, let it be somebody to help me!

“Enter Sandman” blares over the speakers.

Tazz: YES!

Sandman stops at the entrance to the Luxor, opens a can of beer and begins to rock out.

Tazz: NO!
Heyman: We don’t have time for this. Jericho, take his spot. He won’t get there until it’s time for you to come out.

Jericho rushes the ring, but he’s headed off by RVD, who springboards in and begins wailing on the RAW guys with a chair. He lines a few of them up against the ropes and points at himself.

Tazz: Brotha, don’t do something stupid.
RVD: Who? Me?

Rob nails a flying cross body, eliminating six men at once, including himself. On the way out, Viscera lands on top of him, crushing him. Rob Van Dam has fallen.

Jericho: ROB!
Theodore Long: Holla, holla! We need some help in here!
Heyman: Come on, anybody who can, let’s bar the door.
Katie: Oh, I can help do that.
Heyman: Get back to your room.
Folksy Midwestern Play-By-Play Man: (explodes)

Jericho slides into the ring.

Jericho: Tazz, we’ve got to buy them time.
Tazz: That’s okay, brotha, there’s only, what, ten of them left. I’ve got an idea.
Jericho: That being?
Tazz: Throw me at Maven.
Jericho: Really?
Tazz: Yeah. I’ve got an idea.

Jericho tosses Tazz at Maven, and Tazz nails him with an RKO, knocking him out, then throws him over the top.

Tazz: Tell Orton I did that and died.
Jericho: Neither of us would ever hear the end of it. No WAY he’s finding out.
Orton: NICE ONE, TAZZ!
Tazz: Damn.
Jericho: Damn.
Orton: Damn.
Jericho & Tazz: What?
Orton: I want to be liked.
Moore: I said “licked”!
Orton: Lick me, guys!
Heyman: Tazz, Jericho, can you get yourselves eliminated? We could use some help.
Jericho: I’m never gonna win this goddamn thing.
Tazz: All the better for me, my arms are tired.

Tazz and Jericho hop over the top rope, leaving the RAW superstars alone in the ring. They look at each other and begin brawling. It’s every man for himself!

Heyman: All right, everybody inside!
Sandman: Exiiiiit light, enter niiiiiight….
Jericho: Secure the casino!