The Men
The Myths
The Legends
The Only Stable That Matters
HEAVY ARTILLERY

(Well, the list of matches for this coming Wednesday Insurrection has been released, and wouldn't ya just know it? Every last member of Heavy Artillery has a match! If you've been keeping up with these three men at all, you surely know that they all have something to say, so without further ado, let's get right to it!)

(The scene begins in an office at an unknown building. A desk with a box full of papers and folders is there, along with a computer, turned off. A leather chair is positioned off to one side in front of the desk, and another chair is behind it. A door is on the back wall. On the desk is a little name plate that reads as follows...)

(Just then, the door on the back wall opens, and in steps Doomsday, carrying an armload of manilla folders. He drops the folders onto the desk and takes a seat in the chair behind the desk, heaving a depressed sigh.)

Doomsday: And thus, four months after its close, my ICW is gone. It was good while it lasted.

(He leans back in the chair, thinking to himself. Just then, the door opens, and in step Doom and Jim "The Icon" Daher. Doom moves to the chair in front of the desk, turns it around, and straddles it. The Icon walks over to the desk and picks up the name plate.)

Jim "The Icon" Daher: "Doomsday, President, Internet Championship Wrestling."

(He looks over at Doomsday.)

The Icon: You used to run a wrestling company, Dooms? When was this?

(Doomsday looks up at The Icon.)

Doomsday: Does it really matter? It doesn't exist anymore. It hasn't for four months, but it finally hit me. I just realized what I let go - what I was forced to let go - simply because my employees abandoned me. No one showed up for events. No one showed up on ICW television. My staff disappeared. No one would answer their cell phones, pagers, beepers, or home phones. This place could have been one of the best companies out there. Hell, it probably could have been bigger than anything out there. But because everyone stopped caring about it, I was forced to shut it down.

(He heaves another sigh, pushing his hair back out of his face. Doom speaks up.)

Doom: Well, I got a little bit of news that I think is gonna lift that mood of yours. In the GWA, all three of us have matches for Wednesday Insurrection. Jim here is takin' on Rayne and Anton Rayge in a three-way dance, and Dooms, you and I are gonna be in a tag match against the Samoan Mafia.

(Doomsday perks up a little.)

Doomsday: Rayne, Anton Rayge, and the Samoan Mafia, eh? Sounds intriguing.

(He looks over at The Icon.)

Doomsday: So, Jim, what's your take on Rayne and Anton Rayge?

(The Icon chuckles.)

The Icon: Well, this is gonna be my first match against heavyweights of any description, but ya know somethin'? Heavyweights or not, I'm sure those two mental deficients will be no match for the pinnacle of athleticism, the paragon of charisma, the summit of intelligence, and the epitome of greatness! And why? Why, you ask? Because I am Jim "The Icon" Daher...and they're not! That's my final answer, and no, I'm not gonna use any lifelines. I ain't gonna need 'em against those two morons as I proceed to jackassenize them as only I can do, hitting each one of them with The Icon's Smackdown, and listening to the roof blow off the building as the ref raises the hand of the man, the myth, the legend, their personal god, and the planetary MESSIAH, none other than yours truly, Jim "The Icon" Daher.

(As if to end it right then and there, he crosses his arms over his chest, raises an eyebrow, and gives a confident smirk. Doomsday chuckles, then looks toward Doom.)

Doomsday: Now, what about this Samoan Mafia?

(Doom scoffs.)

Doom: Please. You familiar with the phrase "in shape?" Well, these guys are "in shape" all right...unfortunately, that shape happens to be round! These two are the only team I've seen that has a bigger combined weight than the two of us. Together they weigh well over 800 pounds. The two of us only come to 742. Only problem there is...there's a difference between muscle weight and lard-ass weight. We've both put our finishers on men that would make 'em both look skinnier than Pee-Wee Herman. They're nothin', man, nothin' at all. And besides, if all else fails, I am a 10-time Hardcore Champion, ya know.

(He smiles wickedly. Doomsday chuckles.)

Doomsday: Nice to see that our team doesn't lack for confidence. Jim, you're well aware that both of the men you're facing are at least twice you're size, but you obviously don't care in the least. In fact, you're as certain of victory as you've ever been. And Doom, from what you're telling me, we should be able to send the Samoan Mafia packing with their tails tucked between their legs before they even realize what's happening. Basically, what I'm hearing is that Wednesday will be Heavy Artillery's night, and we should have no problem giving our enemies their own...Doomsday. Nice. Now, let's head on over to the local gym and start preparing for our matches. I'll finish packing up the old ICW papers later.