<The SDC locker room is a scene of chaos. Meeko is being tended to on a gurney in the middle of the room under lights as two doctors and three nurses mill about hurriedly. Penwing - still on crutches - is leaning against a wall with a hand to his forehead and his eyes closed. Chewy Walrus is rummaging around in his toolbox off to one side of the room. Captain Sammitch is pacing back and forth intently...>
Penwing: We shoulda been out there.
Sammitch: Not in the rules, dude. Meeko doesn't ever let us go out there during interviews. Who would come if we did?
PW: This is bullshit, man, and you know it. That nutcase is way outta line. A damn sledgehammer???
CS: Be cool. Let's work the problem here. Spandex crossed the line - that's obvious. Nobody messes with Meeko - especially not during an interview. You can count on us visiting a little retribution on our borderline psychotic friend. But we're gonna fight him in the ring. We're not gonna pull that stuff in the match and get disqualified. Paragon's on the warpath, and I'm positive we won't get away with any more than Spandex or Pig Iron.
PW: Dude, I'm aware of Paragon. I'm aware of how we're supposed to act out there. But how are we supposed to wrestle those freaks by the book when we know they're going to do whatever they want whether they get away with it or not?
CS: First of all, you're gonna have a seat and try to calm down here. <Sammitch helps Penwing into a nearby chair> It's not gonna do you, or me, or Meeko any good if you get all worked up and hurt yourself worse. We both know you shouldn't be out there yet. I don't want you to risk ending your career because of these guys. I'm pretty sure I taught you better than that.
<All the while, Chewy Walrus is retrieving the parts he's been looking for from his toolbox and beginning to fit them together on the workbench beside him...>
PW: Don't talk down to me, man. I've held the title belt here. I know what I'm capable of. Now I appreciate your concern, but I don't think you're getting what I'm saying here. Regardless of whether we wrestle by the book or play fair during matches, we've gotta start making these Dark Lords pay for what they're doing! We're almost to that point. But we don't have a satisfying answer to Spandex and his antics yet.
Chewy Walrus: Yeah, we do. I already told you we should go with it.
CS: You sure, big guy? I mean, I know what his potential is, but...
PW: He's a loose cannon.
CS: Yeah. He just plain won't wrestle the way we wrestle. He's just about as crazy as Spandex is.
CW: And that's what we need. You brought me back so you'd have an answer for their biggest and baddest. But who's gonna take the fight to that crazy bastard? Not you, Sammitch - you're too damn squeaky clean for that. Not Penwing here - he's not back to one hundred percent yet, and won't be for a while. You have to call him, man. It's the only logical way to beat these guys. You've gotta get him in here... or you'd better figure out how you're gonna replace me.
PW: Damn, Chewy. You're makin' this tougher than it has to be.
CS: Look over there. Meeko's hurt, and we don't know how bad yet. Look at us. We're so busy arguing with each other that we can't figure out how to handle the punks we should be fighting. They've got everyone running scared - including us. That, gentlemen, is unacceptable. If we're gonna stand up to the Dark Lords and the Bastardos and whoever else wants to bring this place down, we're gonna have to change the way we do things. And if that means bringing him in here to do his thing... so be it.
<There's a long silence as the three wrestlers look at each other. Finally, Chewy nods and returns to his workbench...>
PW: Okay. We'll do it. But it'll be too late to impact anything tonight.
CS: Tonight is my responsibility - mine and Chewy's. Whatever business we have with the Dark Lords, we owe those fans a good match, and we're gonna take it to SPAMM and Pig Iron. We're not going to stoop to their level. We're going to fight this match fair and square. But, no matter what happens in that match, after the final bell, Chewy's going to deal with Spandex. I'll worry about Pig Iron. And with a little luck, you-know-who just might show up in time to make a difference. Got it? Chewy?
<Sammitch and Penwing look over to see Chewy, who is standing there with a chilling grin as he holds the object of his handiwork - a foot-long wooden handle with three lengths of bicycle chain nailed to it. The camera zooms in on Chewy and his primitive flail before fading back to the familiar Cheesedome...>
