[This is the final installment of a five part series... so if you haven't done so already, you really need to take a moment to check out Parts One, Two, Three, and Four before you proceed!]

The Lord of the Reign
The Titan Tower
Volume II, Chapter Nine
“In Which the Technical Wrestlers Go to War”  
 

Regal: Listen, I’ll give you a ride down towards Texas if you want, but RAW is in Kansas City this week, so I’d suggest looking out for guys on their way to the show, you’d probably get your asses kicked.
Chavo: Well then,

Meltzer: Have you noticed how the narrative of this text story involves jump-cuts to scenes, as if it were a movie?
Alvarez: ‘Kin-A, man.
Meltzer: Are you even listening to me? I mean, we’re expected to read a very loose narrative and piece it together. There are more stage directions in a Samuel Beckett play. We might as well guess what’s happening. If you aren’t familiar with Tolkein, this must be almost impossible to follow or process. The relationships between the wrestlers and the Tolkein characters are tenuous at best. Worse, the logic behind the interrelation of the wrestlers is even more trying. Sure, you can say that they like each other because they fit a Tolkein character, but it bears no relationship to their current wrestling standing. And, even after you forget that, they’re still messed with and misinterpreted in implausible ways. I mean, first Orton is “stupid” and now he’s a “robot”? Heyman is dirt poor, but he can take all the wrestlers to a Vegas hotel? Tazz can’t run, but he can eliminate tons of people… despite being an announcer?
Alvarez: Why are you being such a goddamn bummer? You used to be cool, man. Now you’re just, like, a drag.
Meltzer: I am not a drag!
Alvarez: Sez you. Pass the beer buts back man…. Hahaha! I said “Beer buts.”
Meltzer: You’re messed up, man.
Alvarez: You’re still not passing the beer nuts.
Meltzer: If you think about it, the ring is, like, a play on words.
Alvarez: Dude, you get it.
Meltzer: You’re so high. Wait, why are we high?
Alvarez: Hahahaha. Dude, we’re on, like, page 45 of the second part of a three-part story. I think the first part was, like, fifty pages. I don’t know about you, but I want to get intimate with that bottle of chartreuse next to the beer nuts. It’s the only way I’m making it through all this.
Meltzer: Did you know that, like, “chartreuse” is the only color named after an alcoholic beverage? It’s made by monks, man.
Alvarez: I do now. And I want to forget that. If you’re not going to pass that, I wish you’d pass the Maker’s Mark. In case you didn’t know, I think of the color “amber” as “bourbon.” Did you know I call 70’s colored interior decorating “bourbon houses”?
Meltzer: (pouring doubles) Okay, man, let’s try to forget this together.
Alvarez: ‘Kin-A, man.
Meltzer: God, I’m so buff.

Edge and his followers are heading into Phoenix, which looks like a ghost town. Screams are heard from every corner of the town.

Edge: Great. Just great; they’re already here.
Snow: Man, I can’t believe they would just come out and attack one of our shows like this.
Edge: Come on, chumpstains, we’re going in.
Benoit: There’s no way this is not going to suck.

Back in the forest, Regal is about to drop off Eddie and Chavo in Kansas City.

Regal: I swear, I really did wrestle that bear. I don’t care if you say he was a Queer Bear, he sure was not a Care Bear, I can tell you that much. No, you pillocks, I would never fabricate that story, nor-

In a field, wrestlers from OVW are being trained on how to wrestle a match in which their entire offense consists of big boots, powerbombs, punches and some kind of chokeslam variation.

Regal: My God. They’re training these wrestlers without any knowledge of the technical style. They’re breeding an entire generation of untalented brawlers. They’re… they’re destroying the future of this business.
Chavo: See what I mean, esse?
Regal: Hunter knows our submission techniques. He should know they lead to better matches. Dammit, Triple H. You think you know something about being a heel, boy? Eh, Hunter? You think you’re bad, you miserable toerag? You’re about to see bad. We’ll see how big a badass you are when I’m stretching your ass out. I’m sorry, little Guerreros, but I have an ass to kick.

The technicos march out to stand next to Regal.

Eddie: All right!
Regal: Come now, gents. It is time for the technical wrestlers to make one last appearance on RAW. RAW will be WAR once again.

They break into a run heading for the arena. In Arizona, things aren’t looking nearly so good for the faces.

Snow: Well, it could be worse. They could have kidnapped Head. But in all seriousness, this place is pretty much dead for us.
Dreamer: Mr. Benoit, are you okay?
Benoit: I can feel it. Vince is looking for me, and he’s very close. And I think the belt itself wants to go back to him.
Dreamer: Okay, that’s just stupid. Belts can’t want things.
Snow: The Rust Belt would like to see American industrial revitalization and a reevaluation of both union contracts with major companies and a push for unionization across the South and the West.
Edge: Shut up! Take them to the booker in San Diego. Tell him that Edge has finally done something right: he’s made him the Undisputed Champion. Tell him that we will win.
Dreamer: What the hell is your problem, dude? You’re just like your brother, you know that? His vanity and desire for a push drove him crazy, turned him heel, and he got killed. Now the same thing is happening to you. I shouldn’t be surprised that stupidity runs in your family, but come on.

The Black Hoodied riders rev their engines in the background.

Dreamer: Uh, Mr. Benoit.
Benoit: They’re here.
Rider: Whachu gonna do?

Edge: Damn. Riders! Everybody hide under this awning!

In Vegas, Heyman and Jericho prepare for the worst.

Heyman: I lost another one. Goddammit. I wonder if Ring of Honor is hiring bookers.
Jericho: What happened to all the inspiration you were spouting earlier? You’ve got men here prepared to die for what you believe in; you cannot let them down. We can still win this Royal Rumble.
Heyman: Or we can go down to the Riviera and get totally blasted on dollar rum-and-cokes and watch a topless revue. Just say the word and we’re out.
Long: Don’t playa hate, man. I’m coming with you. We’ll go out the parking lot. Buhleedat.
Jericho: Better idea: send the producers and divas and non-wrestlers out that way. Let’s make our way out the lobby and fight.
Long: Oh, hell no.
Jericho: Come on. It’ll make for great TV.
Heyman: Not for me. I’m fat and balding.
Jericho: But you’ll look totally bad-ass nailing guys in the face with cellphones.
Tazz: 10! 9!
Jericho: Is that match still going? God. What number are they on?
Tazz: This is number 30, brotha.

Mist fills the lobby.

Flair: Watch the clock, Chris. When it comes up to 30, I’ll enter with my mystery WOO By God partner, and we’ll clean the floor with them. Watch the entrance ramp.
Orton: It’s 40-32, Chris. It’s time for my feeeeeeeeeediiiiiiiiiing………….

The mist clears. HONK.

Heyman: Maybe, there’s still a chance for Smackdown, yet.
Tazz: HONK.
Heyman: Did Tazz just “honk”?
A Trained Seal: HONK!
Heyman: Really, I’m sorry. I’m all out of fish. I’m expecting a bucket of them on Monday. You’ll get back-fish and also a good-faith fish advance.
A Trained Seal: Bull!

The strands of Alzo Sprach Zarathustra begin playing as Ric Flair struts down the Strip.

Heyman: Chris, I never thought I would ever say this in a million years, but it is an honor to be your tag team partner tonight. Let’s ride out and fight. I don’t care what that trained seal says. Listen to me. What the hell am I on? Ah, screw it, let’s go!

Heyman and Jericho charge out of the lobby, throwing some lesser wrestlers by the wayside, when they hear John Cena’s theme and see him strutting down the street just past Flair - as Flair smiles and points at him.

Jericho: Flair!
Flair: Heyman!
Cena: Jericho!
Heyman: Cena!
Cena: Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, YO!
Flair: WOO!

Cena charges the ring and slides in, he eliminates RAW’s last survivor, Batista, and celebrates his win. He turns around and sees Sandman entering.

Cena: Uh… I thought I was number thirty.
Sandman: You are. I was number, like, ten or something.
Cena: You’re just getting in here now?
Sandman: You’ve got to understand, my entrance takes a REALLY long time.
Cena: A half hour?
Sandman: Eh. Give or take. You want to do this or not?
Batista: I can’t believe I LOST!

Batista runs back into the ring and throws Sandman out in his rage, before he’s dragged away by the referees. Cena begins to celebrate again. Meanwhile, Triple H looks on in horror as the technical wrestlers stretch out his body guards and cause general mayhem, ruining that night’s RAW show.

Regal: All right, chaps! Take down the show! Somebody break Heidenreich’s knees! I’ve got an idea, everybody go around and start up all the soda fountains, we’re gonna flood the place!
Eddie: Chavito, are you thinking what I’m thinking?
Chavo: FREE NACHOS!
Regal: Beware the flood!

Triple H frowns as an inch of sticky brown sludge flows past him.

In Arizona, Benoit and Dreamer are in an even stickier situation. Benoit stands in the middle of the road.

Dreamer: Come out of there. You’ll get hit by a car, then we’ll see what that gets you. Chris, it’s me, Tommy. Come the hell out of that road before I drag you out by your ears.
Benoit: I’m sick of being a main-eventer, Tommy.
Dreamer: I know. You weren’t built for it. But you know what? It makes a great story. It makes a great angle. The mighty Chris Benoit overcomes all odds, his size, being held down, the fact that he’s boring on the mic-
Benoit: Hey-
Dreamer: Only to come out on top in the end. To be able to say to the promoters and the bookers that have held him down over the years, “Hey, screw you. I’m Chris Benoit, and I’m the Undisputed Heavyweight Champion. So eat it, you bitches, because you cannot contain my awesomeness. You will not hold me down, you cannot hold me down.”
Benoit: What are you on, Tommy?

Alvarez: Dude, totally.
Meltzer: I’m going to have to wheelbarrow you home, aren’t I?

Elsewhere, Jericho and Stacy hug to celebrate Smackdown’s victory at the Rumble. They share a lingering glance. Also sharing a lingering glance are Tommy Dreamer and Chris Benoit.

Dreamer: Don’t you understand? This is your dream, the dream of every wrestling fan everywhere. The heel cannot win in the end. The face may be weaker; he may not be as clever or have as much help, but he will always win in the end.

Eddie and Chavo toast over a plate of stolen nachos, as Triple H sits in his locker room, ankle-deep in Pepsi and Mountain Dew, crying. Dreamer is also on the verge of tears.

Dreamer: It is the nature of the business. Nobody wants to be the face: it’s the tougher path. It’s so much easier to be hated. But people like you and me, Chris, we understand, we’ve always understood, that being the face is more rewarding. We looked up to them as kids, and we know this path is righteous. I don’t mean to cut a face promo, here, Mr. Benoit, but we’ve got to hold on.
Benoit: Hold on to what? What Tommy?
Dreamer: That in the end, Mr. Benoit, if we are good enough, and Vince McMahon is evil enough, we will prevail. There are still faces in this world, however few we may be.
Edge: I can’t believe it. Tommy, that makes a lot of sense. Chris, Vince is totally heinous, and you have a chance to stop him.
Snow: I hate to bring this up, but if you just release Benoit, without a no-compete clause or anything, you’re gonna get fired.
Edge: I probably deserve to get fired. Goodbye, Chris Benoit.

Flair, Jericho, Tazz, Orton, Heyman and Cena sit on the base of the Sphinx statue and look toward the Vegas skyline.

Flair: McMahon won’t stand for this. He’s gonna come, WOO, and he’s gonna come hard and fast. The future of this industry is about to be decided. It’s all up to Chris WOO By God Benoit and that fat boy Tommy Dreamer to stop it.
Cena: Damn, that sucks; and like fules, it rucks.
Tazz: I can’t wait to write that down in my “Kill Me If I Read This” diary.
Jericho: Hey, Randy, what happened to you after you failed to RKO that monorail? You just, like, disappeared.
Orton: Oh. Yeah, I walked over to the Excalibur and watched their King Arthur Dinner Show.
Tazz: You what?
Orton: Then I went out to a strip club. Got back in time to see the end to the Rumble though. That was awesome.
Cena: Thanks, man.
Tazz: Don’t thank him!
Cena: It doesn’t matter. He’s part of the Chain Gang. See?
Orton: Chains are shiny.
Tazz: You little fu-
Flair: WOO!

Bret shambles through the desert, leading Dreamer and Benoit ahead toward WrestleMania.

Dreamer: Do you suppose they’ll ever put out a DVD retrospective on us?
Benoit: I’ve already got one.
Dreamer: But not with this stuff on it. They’ll have to put out an all-new set so that people can see the time Chris Benoit saved the World. Everybody will say, “Hey, have you seen that awesome new Benoit DVD? The one where he saves the wrestling industry?” or “Man, that Benoit DVD was awesome, let’s watch Benoit’s awesome promos again!”
Benoit: I guess. I think they’ll all be skipping ahead to watch the Tommy Dreamer parts. They’ll all say, “Benoit is awesome, but Tommy Dreamer, now he should have a DVD.”
Dreamer: Do you really think I’ll have my own DVD?
Benoit: No. But people will say that you should.
Dreamer: That’d be awesome.
Benoit: Where the hell did Bret run off to?
Dreamer: Dammit, Bret. We don’t have time to sit around waiting on a washed up wrestler. Let’s go!

Bret, meanwhile, is hiding behind a small outcropping of rocks just ahead.

Hitman: No, no. Chris Benoit is our friend, he’d never hurt us.
Bret: Weren’t you there when Benoit turned heel on us a little while ago?
Hitman: No… no. He’s Canadian. He understands me. I’m a national hero.
Bret: You idiot. He’s “now residing in Atlanta, Georgia.” He’s turned his back on his nationality just as much as he’s turned his back on us. We should take the belt. Lock them both in the Sharpshooter and make them tap out. Break their legs. Show them who the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be really is.
Hitman: What about the fat one? The one still wearing a greasy EC F’n W shirt? He’s bad news, I tell you. Always about to nail us with a Kendo stick.
Bret: We’ll take that Kendo stick and jab it in his ass.
Hitman: Oh, that’s awesome.
Bret: We’ll see who’s tapping out then. Them!
Hitman: Yes! No! We’re getting too old for schemes like that.

Dreamer: Yo! Come on, Hart. Where’d you shamble off to?
Benoit: Hitman? Are you out there?

Bret: Are you thinking what I’m thinking?
Hitman: By our very nature, I have to be. Because you and I are just facets of the same person.
Bret: Those concussions really messed us up.
Hitman: Yeah.
Bret: So?
Hitman: Oh. It’s a good plan. We’ll show Benoit yet.
Bret: And then, we get the precious back.
Hitman: And kill them all. I like this plan. It warms my hammer pants to hear it. Hey! Benoit! Dreamer! Everything’s a-okay! I have no plans to kill you or violate you with Kendo sticks. Now let’s get going! Come on, not-at-all-soon-to-be-dead people, we’ve got a long walk ahead of us.

To Be Continued.