SYNDICATED:Battle of Los Angeles

[Patty O'Green 0]

This match is on extreme tape delay, so Jade can be at the arena, while Alix and Krista wouldn't be fighting or at the arena for Syndicated anyway.

 

[b]RECORDED FRIDAY FEBRUARY 23rd[/B]

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/warnerbros.jpg]

We're greeted by an image of E! Corespondent Ryan Seacrest is standing in front of Warner Brother Studios, wearing a sharply designed tuxedo and holding a microphone. No you haven't turned to some kind of screwy Internet fantasy e-Oscars. This is still Syndicated, gentlemen, and I am still on copius amounts of LSD.

SEACREST
This time of year is normally one of great excitement and eagerness within Hollywood, for the always thrilling Oscar race has typically captured the hearts and minds of the citizens of Los Angeles. However, today, the tenor of Tinseltown is one of terror! Why? Because, urban terrorist, notorious Blood affiliated criminals, The South Central Militia have targeted Warner Brother's studios for their version of blood, warfare, and carnage. Their primary targets are Hollywood “It” girls, Alix Spezia and Krista Isadora Duncan. But it's business as usual for studio staff on this Friday afternoon. However, security has been put on high alert should the Militia get out of hand. Now let's go to Terry Taylor.

We're taken to the inside of the studio,  where are announce team is situated within the comfortable confines of the luxurious gift shop, surrounded by a mountain of stuffed Looney Tune characters. They're also joined by adorable mascot versions of the popular cartoon legends, such as Daffy Duck, Bugs Bunny, and to mock poor Terry Taylor, Foghorn Leghorn. Our announcers are as follows.

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/doublet.jpg]
[b]Terry Taylor![/b]

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/JadeRodez.jpg]
[b]Jade Rodez![/b]

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/melpotrait.jpg]
[b]Melody Nerdly![/b]

TERRY TAYLOR
The glitz, the glamour, the fun, the sun! It's all here in tinseltown, Los Angeles, California. But what the city of angels never expected to see was two if it's most famous natives slug it out with two of it's most hated denizens. But that's exactly what they'll see today, as Chicks Over Dicks defend their tag team titles against The South Central Militia in a Battle of Los Angeles match! Terry Taylor, joined by Miss Melody Nerdly, and Jade Rodez, sister of the returning Leon Rodez, at Warner Brother's studios in Burbank, California. And we are here thanks to the South Central Militia dropping an enormous bid on a charity auction to spend time with the girls. However, the SCM didn't want just a regular meet and greet, they wanted a tag title match in on COD's type of turf, and that's what they got. Unlike the Oscars which get decided by a panel of voters, The SCM's fate is entirely in their hands. Melody, why don't you tell the fans watching at home a bit about the contest.

MELODY
Professor doctor Miss Melody.

TAYLOR
Professor, doctor, Miss, Melody, tell the fans a bit about this unique contest.

MELODY
You tell them, you're the unpaid intern.

JADE
Well, why don't we let our special master of ceremonies, a Rodney Dangerfield impersonator, introduce us to our participants!

MELODY
Why a weaksauce imersonator and not an actual celeb? Because we just found out the real Rodney Dangerfield was dead three minutes before we started filiming.

TAYLOR
That's a shoot. Sadly.

We're transported to the middle of the lot, a concrete ocean surrounded by various studios and sets, pillars of movie making prowess. Along the slab of pavement lie grassy islands, filled with flowers, and encircled by palm trees. The beautiful California sun illuminates the area with a radiant glow, as the challengers to the titles shift uncomfortably next to the appointed referees, Tokyo native Okari Tanaka, German Helmut Wolfang, Charles Robinson, 86 year old Clem Buzzlefoxer, and 58 year old Clem Buzzlefoxer JR. The camera settles on the master of ceremonies, the impersonator of a sometimes despised, sometimes beloved comedian, who looks like a pale gnome next to the ghastly Militia.

RODNEY DANGERFIELD IMPERSONATOR
Hey, uh, I'd introduce myself, but I'm not so sure that's a good idea, I got self esteem issues, see. I told my psychiatrist everyone hates me, he said I was being ridiculous, everyone hasn't met me yet.

DANGERFIELD IMPERSONATOR
My wife's no help either. We were happy for twenty years. Then we met! Hey, her jealously is getting out of hand. The other day she looked at my calendar and wanted to know who April was! Seriously though, let's get to the competitors for this match. We got the South Central Militia over here, Vinny Santana, and Marcellus Wallace, from South Central Los Angeles. You and me, we got a lot a common, I come from a real though neighborhood also. I bought a waterbead and found dead body at the bottom of it! In the local restaurant I got served broken leg of lamb!

The camera points towards the challengers, who flash platinum encrusted teeth towards the loathing viewers around the world. Vincent's skinny body is shelved in a mink fur coat and a pair of Artful Dodger death valley jeans, dark blue pants that boast a menacing skull floating along the back. His associate has outfitted himself in a loose fitting white tank top, and camo pants that sag to reveal black boxer shorts.  Standing beside the duo are the peripheral members of the South Central Militia, various hoodlums and thugs, dressed in allover red tiger print hooded sweat shirts, and black denim jeans.

TAYLOR
Look Vincent's pants, with the skull on the BUTT. Talk about redefining the word bad ass!

MELODY
Worst. Joke. Ever.

JADE
What's the deal with the SCM bringing an entire army to the fight? No rules against it, I suppose, but even so, it doesn't seem very sporting! Maybe Alix and Krista should've brought their people along!

TAYLOR
I'm not sure Krista's nine o'clock erotic yoga for senior women class poses quite the same threat as the Militia's gang.

MELODY
The idea of grandma experiencing multiple tantric orgasms is enough to scare any man.

DANNGERFIELD IMPERSONATOR
Hey it's the champs, Alix and Krista! 

Indeed it is, unfunny comedian, indeed it is. The girls are known for habit over doing things on a far grander level then that of their counterparts, and their entrance into the unusual bout is no exception. 

[i][b]When you get a new car [uh huh uh huh] 
and ya feeling like a star [ok ok]
what you gon do [what cha gon do, what cha gon do] 
GHOST RIDE IT 
ghost ride ya whip[/b][/i]

The beloved champions make their grandoise entry to centerstage riding on a school bus. And I do most certainly mean on, as Krista is stationed on the roof of the vehicle, svelte figure enhanced by chic athletic gear; white Nike low rise work out pants, and a classy pink Nike tennis polo. Caught up in a rush of euphoria, she's dancing the night way with sexy salsa moves, while sipping on what is likely her seventh beer of the day. Leaning out of the window are a collection of urban looking gentlemen, waving their hands to beat of the Mistah FAB's song that booms from the massive bass of the bus' stero. Alix, outfitted in a denim mini skirt so tiny it could serve as a necklace, and a green and white Abercrombie polo shirt situates herself in the door. However she can't help but leap out to dance next to the side of bus, moving her feet in rhythmic fashion while she and the vehicle parade down the street.  Even, the Dogg father himself, and COD's number one fan, Snoop Dogg is on top of the bus, getting in on the Ghostridig action. Unfortunately he's so spaced out on acid that his entire world appears something like this.....

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/snoopkirby1.gif]

The Militia look on in utter shock and disbelief, as it's now apparent Chicks Over Dicks are more hood then they are, completely wrecking their entire gimmick and reason for employment.

MELODY
They're Ghostriding da whip! Stuntin', shinin', flamboostin'! Get out the way, let casper drive!

Not any more they're not, because the bus comes to a halt in front of the totally stunned One Eye and Santana. Alix leaps out first, gingerly blowing kisses into the camera towards the adoring home viewing audience. Krista, quickly scurries down from her perch on the room, muttering and mumbling about having no place to put her liquor. The girls give a hug to their dog father, who wishes them good luck, before dancing towards the Mushroom Kingdom with his new best friend, Kirby.

DANGERFIELD IMPERSONATOR
Those are some good looking dames. Me not so much. When I was born the doctor took one look at my face, turned me over and said look twins! I sure wouldn't mind marrying them, better then my wife. I get no respect from her, I made a toast on her birthday “to the best woman a man ever had”. A waiter joined me! How's about it girls, wouldya say, tie the knot with me? (Robinson whispers something to Dangerfield). Hey, that's alright, my cousin is gay. I always tell him that in our family tree he's in the fruit section!

MELODY
Will this match mark the debut of zombie Dangerfield to avenge the ruination of his act by this craptastic impersonator?

The fake Dangerfield is dismissed by a production assistant, rambling about getting “no respect”. With the comedy routine a distant memory, Charles Robinson takes the microphone to explain the rules of the bout.

ROBINSON
Ladies and gentlemen, this match very simple, it can end in three ways, by knockout, by submission, or by pin. How you get to that point is completely up to you, anything goes in Hollywood. Are you ready?

The SCM and Krista nod, Alix sings the words “I am ready” in a deep falsetto voice.

ROBINSON
Then let's make it happen! (terrible catchphrase, Chuck!)

TAYLOR
Hey, Jade, you have to think  D*Lux could be in line for a tag title shot sometime around the corner?

JADE
Huh? What? Yeah, when they're ready for that type of thing, I guess.

The criminally insane Wallace waste little time in getting the carnage underway. He grabs onto Alix's bare arms and begins to slam her into the school bus. CLANK! Alix's skinny body thuds off the harsh yellow metal. CLANK! She endures another hostile trashing. CLANK! And another blazes a trail of pain along her exposed back. Alix realizes that she can't tolerate much more of this brutalization, and makes moves to escape the predicament. She shoots her knee into Wallace's ripped stomach, which does little in the way of damage, but provides her enough of a distraction to stomp on his BAPE shoes! One Eye allows Alix to go free in order to take care of his gangsta fashionable footwear. With her rival preoccupied, Alix scurries up to the hood of the vehicle. Like a prophet on a summit, Alix holds her hands out in holy triumph and asks the all important question “LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?”

“Si senorita!” shouts a nearby groundskeeper, who's neglecting his work to peek up Alix's teeny tiny skirt.

“Then let's rock, mother trucker!” she screams, before bending backwards (affording the viewing audience the coveted shot of her Victoria's Secret panties), and jamming on an air guitair. “Well, we can't salute ya! Can't find a flag.” She belts in her best (worst) heavy metal voice. “If that don't suit ya, that's a drag!” Alix begins attacking her air gut air with such ferocity you'd think she was actually playing a concert attended by thousands of people “Schooooool's out for the summer! Schooooooool's out forevaaa! Schooooooool's been blown to pieces!”

Alix's nails on chalk board voice grate heavily on One Eye's voice, thus he claws his way onto the hood to silence the musical vixen. 

“What the hell are you singing?” He wonders, wishing to know the exact the details of the song he's about to end her career over.

“School's Out!” She boasts. “That's the crazy note, bestowed from the goddess above into the mouth of the most rockingest dude of all freaking time, Alice Coooooooopah!”

Wallace scoffs. “Alice Cooper? Dude in the [i]Wayne's World[/i] movie? Yo, for real, that seventies trailer trash shit is mad gay.”

The usually cheery brunette is struck by a bolt of outrage and bellows, “Don't you ever say another ill word about Alice Cooper! No more Miss Nice Girl, no more miss cle-he-heaaaaaan.”

Alix takes out her enormous anger on Wallace's back with a round of stomps. But those paltry blows do little to prevent him from rising to his full vertical base. He volleys a lariat towards her head, but Alix evades the slow moving blow by sweeping underneath his attacking him. She's able to catch him off guard with a side Russian leg sweep setup, but instead of using that exact move, which would dump both of them off the bus, she shoots them both forward with a front Russian leg sweep. The windshield “breaks” One Eye's fall, savagely holding in place as his face crashes into it. Leaving a whimpering Wallace pressed against the pane of glass, Alix backs up as far as she can go on the short surface and does a little disco dance. Once [i]Saturday Night Fever[/i] comes to a close, she darts to her wounded rival, takes to the skies, then viscously impacts her sparkling shoes into the back of his skull. The sound of Marcellus' head being sandwiched between her feet and the windshield causes watchers around the world to cringe in sympathy pain.

“Word, bitch. Alice Cooper like a motherfucker!” She screams, jamming on the air guitar above her defeated enemy.

TAYLOR
What's a good word to describe that, Melody?

MELODY
Try “ouch”.

Elsewhere, Krista has decided to forgo the silly concept of a wrestling match, and embark on a studio tour instead. Her curiosity has taken her onto a dimly lit movie set, which is functioning as a living room for an (as of right now) unknown picture. Because of the haunting darkness of the area, Krissy can scarcely make out any sort of crew, or what movie is/was using this stage area. Her curiosity is partially filled in a most horrifying way, when a man dressed in the trademark costume from the [i]Scream[/i] films (screaming skull mask, black robe) appears to attack her with a blood soaked sickle. The weapon descends upon her like a judgment from the lord, threatening to split the surly diva in to pieces. She dives onto a near by leather couch, causing the sickle to bounce of the wood floor, sending shockwaves up the man's arm. The psychopathic killer is undettered by the miss, and again tries to skewer Miss California with his sickle. Once again a sweat drenched Krista scrapes her body away from certain dismemberment. While she lies on the floor, panting heavily, arm resting on a coffee table, her assailant lets out a bawl of frustration as he tries to pry his weapon from the couch.

JADE
Hey, isn't [i]Scream[/i] a Miramax picture?

MELODY
Are we gonna have to cut your mic, young lady?

JADE
I'll be good!

Krista's seen enough horror movies to know that the people who run from the antagonist are the usually the ones who meet gruesome, blood filled endings, while those who stay and fight, are typically the ones who survive the ordeal. Thus Krista morphs from sterotypical hot blond victim, to ass kicking tag team champion, and springs to her New Balance tennis shoes. An animalistc growl spews forth from the killer as he watches his rival stand in proud defiance. Tufts of black fabric flap in the air as he slashes his sickle towards his foe's body. But Krissy gracefully avoids the strike by backflipping away, landing near a big screen TV. Her bubblegum pink lips form a sly smile, as her manicured hands invite the barbarian to retry his failing luck. He accepts her invitation, and lunges at her, savagely planning on impaling her with stinging steel of his blade. But the fitness model shoots down that idea in multi colored  flames, by leaping onto the big screen TV, and spring boarding back to floor her attacker with an enziguri! Fresh screams from her victim's throat splatters the landscape, as he plummets to the hardwood floor. Despite his anguished yelps, and paralyzed position, Krista doesn't believe that her rival is truly incapacitated, and makes moves to finish him off once and for all. With a devious smirk on her face, she grabs a 17” rust finish table lamp, and hoists above her head. CRAAAASH! The resounding blast of the object being splintered across the killer's head, cuts through the erry silence like a blade through a werewolves heart. The once fearsome maniac turns docile, his weapon of mass destruction sliding free of his motionless fingertips.

“CUT!” a booming voice echoes from the distance. The lights go up, showing that what Krista erroneously believed to be an unused set, is actually a fully populated working space. The stage hands, key grips, and other technicians, scurry about, wrapped up in their world, seem oblivious to the fact that the poor woman thought someone was actually trying to kill her. Makeup ladies dive upon her confused person like vultures, attacking with her various beauty products that probably bear her name and likeness. The camera pans out to reveal the source of the shout of “cut”, none other then horror guru, director Wes Craven.

“Honey, baby, you're supposed to let the bad guy win. Remember?” He says, leaning back in his director chair. “You might have read that in that big pamphlet full of words and phrases, called the script. I know you want a big part, but you can't kill the bad guy in the first five minutes. You can't have a movie where the main character gets killed in the beginning. Except for American Beauty. Can we do this again?”

Krista, in an attempt to prove that she's not a total dunce to the horror legend, desperately tries to plead her case. “You don't understand! He's not an actor! He's a savage, psychotic, gang banger, who bid on a charity auction to help Tibet, but really he's trying to kill me! Look!” In a scene reminiscent of Scooby Doo Krista frantically tears away the mask, revealing her assailant to be.....

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/Yosemite-sam.jpg]

“What in tarnation is going on here?!”

“Oh come on, Wes!” Krista exclaims. “What, was Slimer from the Ghostbusters out of your budget? And instead of polluting the world with another poorly acted Neve Campbell movie, I think already having three violates some kind of Geneva Convention code, why don't you give this war mongering, fascist dictatorship controlled cesspool of a country what they really want to see? A sequel to [i]Every which way but loose[/i] Now there's a concept our chauvanistic heteronormative societey can't get enough of, a man and his monkey,”

“There she is!” A gruff and all too familiar voice yawps.

All eyes turn towards the door Krista entered from, where three more uninvited guests have arrived to the proceedings. Vinny Santana, and two of his most trusted south central warriors, stride across the set, shoving away anyone unlucky enough to stand in their path. The fierce threesome swarm their seemingly overmatched victim, who's blue eyes eagerly search out a means of escape.

“Um, if you need me I'll be in my trailer.” Krista remarks with a nervous giggle. Her enemies have little intention of allowing her to spend time in any vehicle besides an ambulance, however, and Vinny acts on this desire by launching a lariat her way. She swoops beneath his mink covered arm, but annoyingly carries herself into a choke hold from one of the henchmen. His dirty fingers press into her smooth skin, robbing her of air, and nearly squeezing her neck into minuscule pieces. But he doesn't get the opportunity to inflict any crippling harm on the woman, as Santana harshly orders his subordinate to release her to his “care”. The gangbanger obliges without question, roughly thrusting Krista towards his boss. With a  ferocious roar, Vinny pounces at the champion, who surprises him by twisting around at superhuman speed and hurling four spin kicks at the attacking beast. Shards of jagged pain mixed with feral rage as Krista's spotless footwear slices into his scrawny torso. He rears backwards, growling in fury, his claws slashing fruitlessly in the air. He howls inside, promising swift retribution against his adversary. But the femme fatale is already airborne, horse whipping her shoe along his pug ugly face. The tremendous force of the blow pushes him to the ground, where his angry curses emerge as nothing but inarticulate snarls.

“Get her!” Vincent hollers to his charges.

The smallest of the two gangsters needs no further prompting. In a blur of motion he picks up a studio light and takes aim at the blond bombshell. The screeching glare of the light momentarily blinds Krista, and prevents her from staging a suitable avoidance. Thus the callous steel of the weapon springs through the air unhindered and strikes it's target in the arm. The tag team champion howls in pain, glaring back at the thugs. Icy eyes peer from beneath a sweat marked brow, as she nurses her wounded arm. Before she can recover from her pain, the compact man-beast slams the light fixture into her stomach, taking her completely off her feet with a single lunge.

JADE
Oh no! My hero...uh...Krista....Krista is in trouble!

MELODY
Now is as good a time as any to use this picture.

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/internet.jpg]

TERRY
Internet? What the hell is the Internet?

Jagged fangs flash from the creature's open jaw as he stalks a crawling Krista, weapon positioned menacingly above his head. He slashes madly through the air with his club, but Krista evades a grizzly fate by lancing her boot into his testicles! The cheap but effective shot interrupts the trajectory of the light, and causes it to fall from the man's hand, landing innocently at his side. His face cracks, and his mouth twists in anguish, as he's caught within the grip of the worst pain imaginable. Krista has zero sympathy for her opponent's plight, and hops to her feet to cause further damage. Her eyes narrow into sinister slits, while her feet ravage his chest with caperiora inspired hand stand kicks. Vincent can only watch in a mix of disgust and awe as convicted felon is decimated by the thirty five year old president of the PTA.

“Christopher,” An excited Craven turns to his camera man. “Are you getting all this on film?”

“What for?”

“For the movie!”

“There's no movie being made. This is all just an expensive and elaborate scheme designed by your wife to get you out of the house so she could bang the pool boy.”

Krista's procession of kicks push the criminal farther away from the living room and into the nitty gritty inner workings of the set. Desperate to escape the crazed champion, the convict pays no heed to the stupefied crew around him, as he makes a frantic bid for the nearest exit. Not one to shy away from battle, Krista spurs her feet after the nameless henchmen. But the third brute, the one who had earlier locked a fierce grip around Krista's throat, accosts her once more. Krista won't be so easily subdued this time, and shoots an elbow into the side of his cranium. He staggers backwards, droplets of blood trickling down the side of his head. Miss California takes advantage of his moments weakness, by latching onto the back of his do-ragged head. She leads him, kicking and screaming to a medium sized camera mount. Several impressed stage hands bear witness to the grizzly scene of KID bashing his skull into the jagged metal object. The twisted strands of metal violate the ruffian's face, peeling away at his bronze skin, leaving glistening crimson in it's place.

MELODY
Hhahahaahah! The misfortunes of people I don't know never stops being funny! This noobilicious noob nugget needs to learn to play his class! F'n carebear, log off and play in ezmode!

JADE
Don't ask, Terry. Just know that Melody is a very special young lady, and we love her very much.

A savage smile taking hold of her face, Krista discards her whimpering victim to the concrete floor, where steaming blood invades his vision. Then, in a most embarrassing act, she bends over and hual's the convicts pants and underwear to his ankles, exposing his pimpled filled BUTT to the world, and changing this from a one star match, to the match of the year in the eyes of many fans (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, TONY149, I KNOW U FUCK W/THAT). Not content with merely lambasting this cretin with a mundane humiliation, Krista wishes to curse him the worst indignation humanely possible. Thus she grabs a nearby tripod, and folds it into it's lengthy vertical base. While nonsensically humming [i]Ring of Fire[/i] by Johnny Cash, she then positions her tool above his bare ass, preparing to flashback him to his woeful prison days as communal prag of the Black Guerrilla Family gang. But, without warning, a fourth thug appears on the scene to save his associate from an anal violation and the years of psychotherapy that come with it. He charges at Krista from behind, swinging a tripod of his own. But Krista reacts with amazing quickness, and sinks her weapon deep into the man's chest. He collapses forward, a wad of blood soaked spit spilling from his mouth. His pain further increases when Krista slices the tripod through his shaggy back, cleaving his spine.

JADE
What's with all these stupid crew people standing around doing nothing?

TAYLOR
They're union, they don't have to do any work.

Krista opens her mouth to taunt the over matched bumpkins, only to be interrupted by a ferocious roar. The hideous figure of the smallest thug rises in front of her. He raises a dagger to carve her silky smooth skin into nothingness, but never gets that chance as she wheels about and  swings her pole at the oncoming hoodlum. The sliver edge of the metal object slices cleanly through his neck, creating grotesque gash on it's landing strip. Trailing a shower of blood, his body topples sideways. His expressionless head rebounds of the hard floor, while his limbs twitch convulsively.

MELODY
It's dangerous out here! I've got to take steps to protect myself! *casts shell/protect/and haste on self*  *waits a couple of seconds*,  *attack
magic
[b]summon[/b]
<-----DIABLO
--------------IFRIT
--------------SHIVA
--------------[b][color="#0000FF"]ODIN[/color][/b]<------------*casts*
steal 
item
flee *

JADE
Mel, just because you put in an astreik before a sentence, doesn't mean it's actually going to happen.

MELODY
I see....*UP,UP,DOWN,DOWN,LEFT,RIGHT,LEFT,RIGHT,B,A,Start.* Bring it on, Militia! Bring...it....on!

Vinny, who had been relaxing on the plush leather couch, while his underlings took a brutal beating,  casually rises to his feet, stifling back a yawn. “Well, it's like I told my son, shortly before I shot his mother three times in the face, if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.”

With a savage howl, Santana pounces from his position in the living room. The Militia co-leader tackles Krista, knocking the startled champion to the ground. She lands hard amidst the throng of carnage she's wrought, with the berserk brawler right on top of her. The impact drives the breath from her lungs. Her mighty spear slips from her fingers.

JADE
*casts cureaga on Krista* Right, Melody? From Final Fantasy.

MELODY
No offense, Jade, but sometimes you can be a major geek.

A voracious fist closes in Krista's face, crushing it beneath it's powerful weight. Bone crunches loudly. A geyser of tears and sweat explode off Krista's head, and onto Vinny's face and chest. Chuckling to himself, he claws his fingers into her eyes. Blinded, she swings out wildly with a recently acquired film cannister. The blunt object smashes into the left side of the he-wolf's face, knocking him off his prized possession. His agonized yelps steer her hands as, tears streaming from her afflicted eyes, she hammers him with the object again and again. Krista believes that for the moment she may actually be able to subdue the ferocious pugilist. But a canine grunt suggests otherwise. Moving with a speed that betrays the heated assault he's under, rises to blast Krista with a roundhouse kick. His boot hits her like a battering ram, and her shoes take leave of the ground. She crashes through a row of cameras, causing amazed stage hands to scatter away from the wreckage. The harsh prong of busted metal, plastic, and glass, stings her busted body. The collision leaves her head ringing, but nevertheless, she leaps to her feet, a smaller tripod in hand. And well it is that she does, for Vinny is rejoined by the smaller thug, and the thug who suffered a depantsing at her hands.

“Shit, it's gotta be a drag to be you, baby girl.” Vinny comments through an arrogant smile. “ Get her.” he orders, the grin instantly disappearing with the loathsome order.

“Son of a bitch, I should took the job on [i]The View[/i] when I had the chance.” Krista mutters inwardly. Thrusting with her arm, she attacks the first warrior so hard that the spear stabs through the thickened fabric of his top. She hastily tugs on the “hilt” of the weapon, praying that it would not get stuck within the man's top. To her relief the sword comes free easily enough, and she swings it around in one smooth continuous movement. With lethal percesion the object cuts into man's jaw, forcing newly loosened teeth to rip through the empty air. His lifeless body spills onto the floor, landing in bloodied heap in front of Santana, who regards his fallen comrade with bitterest contempt.

“Anytime you guys actually wannna, you know, put up a fight, that would be awesome.” Krista remarks with a grin

“What are you waiting for, Christmas? Damn, dude, smoke this ho!” The fur coated Vinny yells to his remaining lackey.

The fearless street tough roars defiantly at Krista as he charges her with tremendous force. She meets his charge with a viscous looking stab, striking him bellow the ribs. A well aimed spin kick from Krista's left foot pierces his shoulder. Her right foot then springs to life, catching him squarely in the jaw with a superkick. Enmeshed in agony, the brawler collapses to the floor, beaten and bleeding, his chest rising in falling beneath his heavy anguish. Only labored breathing assured Vinny that his unfortunate comrade would be conscious to later chew out for his incompetence.

“Good help is so hard to find.” Krista comments over a giggle.

Hatred smolders in Vinny's eyes. Tearing his gaze away from his defeated cronies, he takes a frigid look towards Krista. Yet she is the one who performs with murderous determination. The golden hair fighter whirled and spot and every thudding kick crashes against Vincent's defense with the impossible power of a meteor strike. The Militia co-leader spends lavishly on his energy simply trying to keep up with these attacks without being torn in half. Each parry cost him more power then he can afford to spend, and every block of her whirlwind assault seems to exponentially drain his energy. He backs away as fast as he dared; the relentless jezebel stays right on top of him. He no longer tries to block the strikes, only guide them slanting away, as he's unable to counter her blinding speed. Acting on desperation alone, he drops low and spins into a reverse ankle sweep, that slaps Krissy sharply enough to knock her off balance. 

MELODY
Trying to figure out who would win a match between Krista and Vinny, is like trying to determine who win a fight between a Jedi and Mega Man.

TAYLOR
Or Wolverine and Captain America.

MELODY
Help, I'm surrounded by nerds!

“You picked the wrong thug to mess with.” Vincent barks, while he drives a series of kicks towards Krista's legs, drawing Krista into overhead flip so that he can burn through her spine with a single lariat. The plan, which seemed so clear in his mind, becomes a murky botch, when Krista, upon hitting the floor, returns to the air to strike him with a spinning side stamp that folds him in half. Using the dancer's strength within her legs, she continues her spin into a fast wheel kick that brings her heel against the point of his chin with a sharp crack, knocking the brawler into a catering table. Crew members scatter about, leaving their donuts and coffee to fend for themselves, as Whitey topples onto the long piece of furniture. While Vinny's bonelessly limp body is still tumbling through the cheese tray, Krista gives him a mighty shove. His fall suddenly accelerates like a missile burning the last of it's drives before impact. The brute strikes the floor at a steep angle, skids along it, and slams into a row of light fixtures so hard, the grouping buckles and collapses onto him. The muffled sound of his pathetic cries are especially gratifying to his exhausted rival.

JADE
Hey, Krista is sending me a text message. She says that Vince is as dead as your sex life, Terry.

TAYLOR
*downloads hentai of big titty chicks with lethal cyanide juices in their nipples *

Knowing that her enemy is all but permanently incapacitated, Krista lays a shoulder onto his tomb of metal and glass, attempting the first pinfall of the match. But there's one slight hiccup.....

MELODY
TheRE 4r3n'T 4NY $TUpID R3PH3REE$!@!!@@!!!~~111!!!!!

JADE
Translation: There aren't any stupid referees!

This, of course, is a problem. An enormous problem, that puts Krista, who already suffers from high blood pressure, on the verge of an anxiety caused heart attack. She rises to her feet in order to search out one of the referees, and systemically remove the genitals of the remaining four.

“Okay, I'm going now.” Krista shouts to those staff, who haven't ran for their lives. “So if anyone twice my size wants to hit me with any blunt objects, now is the time! Anyone? Ex-girlfriends? Republican national party members? No? Okay, aurevoir!” With that Krista scoops up the long abandoned [i]Scream[/i] costume as a souvenir, and bids the wholly confused employees a fond farewell.

[b]Elsewhere[/b], One Eye Wallace finds himself far off the beaten path, nestled between a seemingly endless row of trucks in a loading dock. How he got to this remote location is anyone's guess, and how he's going to return to the center of the fray is beyond him. He seeks out help from the mass of workers unloading various trucks of their eccentric content, but they seem to busy to lend a hand to a former pimp. Marcellus' shoulders sag in depression, but his spirits raise just as quickly as they feel when he eyes the route to salvation; a security guard sitting in a golf cart reading the sports section of the LA Times.

“My cracka, my cracka, lemme holla atcha!” One Eye shouts, trotting to the overweight man's location. “Let me get that golf cart right quick, son.”

“Sorry, fella, but this golf cart is only to be used by authorized Warner Brothers' studio employ.” The guard responds without looking up from his Clippers article.

One Eye thinks quickly, and this is the best plan he come with “Hey, I'll make ya a deal, white boy, I'll suck you off if you gimme that golf cart.”

The guard blinks in astonishment “Contrary to what my wife may have said in the divorce proceedings, I have never, and will never, involve myself in any level of faggotry. Is that understood, young man?”

“How bout this, I'll jerk off, while you watch?”

“Get in the cart.”

Marcellus slides into the passenger seat next to the salivating rent a cop, who can't keep his greedy eyes off One Eye's one eyed monster. Sadly, we're not treated to the type of scene typically reversed for steamy adult films such as [i]Wank In The Woods 19[/i], thanks to Wallace punching the guard in the jaw! The sucker punch knocks the unconscious man out of the cart and onto the gravel road, allowing Marcellus to commandeer the vehicle for his own purposes. An arrogant middle finger flies into the air, as he tears up the roadway with an out of control top speed of a fifteen miles per hour.

JADE
I am worried that I wasn't disturbed at all by that sequence.

Meanwhile, we see Krista, Scream costume tucked between her hand, continuing her fruitless search for the incompetent officials. The frustration is evident on her face, and her lips form a detesting scowl. Her blue orbs glare balefully at the palm tree decorated roads, manicured lawns, and various on screen and off screen personnel peeking in and out of sound stages and craft shops, that make up the backlot. Fortunately a familiar sight hits her like a splash of cold water, restoring her sanity. The image that's so pleasing to Krista's frayed mind is of one woman who'd normally never be associated with the word sanity, Alix Spezia. The perky brunette approaches Krista with skipping feet, a Tweety Bird doll in one hand, and cone of cotton candy in the other.

“Alix!” Krista cries out, pushing her way past three extras in cowboy outfits to get her better half. “Come quick!”

Ally spots the black blob on Krista's arm that is the Scream costume and decides at that moment to shred whatever common sense and good judgement that is left in her body. “I'll save you!” She cries, then darts past a row of outrageously attired, psychotic clowns making their way to the set of [i]The Dark Knight[/i].

“Save me?”

Having cleared the jesters in a single leap, Alix is right on top of her bewildered partner. As Krista demands to be dismounted, Alix's talons dig into bundled up costume, while her bare knees pin Kris' arms to pavement. “Get off my sugar mommy, you monster! You can eat her brains after she pays my cell phone bill!”

“What are you doing to me?” Krista screams. 

A calvary of midgets dressed as ninjas walk past, paying no little attention to the scuffle, thinking it to be a raunchy part of some National Lampoon/American Pie type flick.

“I'm saving you from this brain dead black alien symbiont that's attacking you and trying to feast off your life blood and impregnate you with it's alien spawn!”

“The only brain dead thing that's attacking me is you!”

A studio tour cart packed with Japanese tourists armed with the latest digital camera stops next to the girls' ordeal.

The nasally voice tour guide begins, “And to your left, you'll find former Spice Girl Geri Haliwell engaged in a fierce fist fight with Drew Barrymore. Sometimes the pressure of Hollywood becomes to much to wash away with booze, cocaine and Percocets.”

“Oohs” and “Ahhs” leave the lips of the tourists as their cameras capture permanent images of the titillating “catfight”.

“Do I really look like Drew Berrymore?” Alix wonders aloud.

“GET OFF OF ME!”

Alix takes that as a cue to let go of Krista's arms and clamber away from her incensed partner. Yet she continues to annoy Krista by trying to justifying her gross stupidty. “The couples therapist, he said, that we should totally get down and drrrrty with the foreplay.”

“Couples therapist? Just because the raving crack addict at the soup chicken removes his semen encrusted hands from his pants long enough to mix in some perverted romantic advice between his half cocked conspiracy theories on how [i]American Idol[/i] is a Japanese plot to push white catholics to brink of extinction doesn't make him a couples therapist. Now help me find one of those referees, so we can hurry up and go home. I have to pick Maya up from piano lessons in forty five minutes.”

Ally bellows, “NO!”

“NO?”

“I don't take orders from you, Miss thang! I'm a baaaaaad type of p-i-m-p and you're my black man servant. Now get out on the street and earn my paper, bitch!”

SLAP!

“Sorry, I was reading the script for a Huggie Bear movie. Okie-dokie, artichokie, let's go-go Gadget go!”

Suddenly, pandemonium erupts on the lot. The studio dwellers shriek and shout as they dive out of the way a rampaging golf cart. Even the caped crusader himself, Batman, isn't immune to the fright, and he claws and pushes at studio citizens to avoid the crazed cart which is going a whopping six miles per hour. The vehicle glides to a calm stop when it reaches the tag team champions, and from it's driver's seat steps Militia co-leader, One Eye Wallace. Situated in the passenger seat is one of the five referees for the bout, Japanese official, Okari Tanka.

“Good afternoon, bitches. One Eye Wallace come to do damage.”

“Ready Alix?”

“Ready? I could do this blindfolded!”

“Be my guest.” Krista retorts, handing Alix a strip of fabric from the [i]Scream[/i] costume.

“Uhhh...maybe some other time. Heh-heh.”

Krista springs forward first, knee angled for a kill. Alix leaps from One Eye's far side with a similar strike in perfect coordination. But the girls slam into each other in midair, for the hooligan is no longer between them. Alix looks up just in time to glimpse the bottom of Wallace's boot as it smacks her in the face, tumbling her towards the ground. She reaches into her expert gymnastic training to effortlessly right herself and touch down in perfect balance to spring forward as Wallace presses Krista away with a  succession of flourishing, weaving jabs. Ally launches herself at the thug's back- and he half turns, whirling the night stick he stole from the security guard towards her head. She swats away the weapon, but a forearm catches her across the knees and bats her down to the pavement. She snarls to herself and stands up to rematch the powerful brawler. But an oversized plastic baby bottle (don't ask) is hurled from his hands, slamming into her and driving her back against the brick wall. Ally moans in anguish while her hands nurse her now badly bruised ribs.

TAYLOR
Marcellus Wallace is a tough customer! His nightmares could give Stephen King a run for their money.

MELODY
Why are you complimenting this jerk? Did he cosign a loan for you or something?

While easily deflecting a rain of grey streaking thrusts from Krissy's oft-used tripod, One Eye hears the unmistakable whistle of the baby bottle zipping towards his head with astonishing speed. He scarcely manages to back roll quickly enough to avoid it before it can shatter his spine. His backroll brings him to his feet directly in front of Alix, who's charging towards him unarmed. Wallace neatly sidesteps her onslaught, cutting at her leg with a lariat as she sails through the sky. Yet Alix evades the cut as she passes, and manages to sweep her feet behind her to tag One Eye in the neck. Unfortunately her graceful leap puts her in Krissy's path, so that the fitness queen must dive past her descending partner.....depositing herself on the door step of Wallace's upraised knee. Krista drives a kick towards Wallace's chest as she pivots in the air, pushing her out of the way of his knee strike. Upon landing, she slashes her tripod towards his stomach, but Wallace side steps, causing the weapon to nearly impale a vexed Alix.

“Wanna not try to carve my guts out, Xena?” She reprimands.

“Wanna not try to be a vapid skank?” 

“No not really.”

Bored with the inane chatter, Wallace leans into a haymaker aimed squarely at Krista's face. She deflects it with a rising parry of her makeshift spear, bringing the callous steel into his beefy chest. Though pushed back several inches, he recovers quickly enough to launch a counter strike Krista's way. But in the space where Krista once stood is now only the white lightening of Alix's super kick driving straight for his face. Only a desperate whirl to one side made would what would have been a broken nose, a line of scorch in the face of Okari Tanka, who keels over in intense agony.

MELODY
The Japanese guy is down right now, but when he awakens he will rise to a blank canvas of infinite possibilities. All the colors of the known and unknown universe will be at his disposal.

JADE
That's really eloquent, Mel.

MELODY
I heard it on Battlestar Galactica.

Stricken with a sudden panic, One Eye springs away from the California girls to land in front of a door with the words “storage” written in vibrant bold  letters. He disengages for a moment to regain his composure and wonder where the devil should Vincent and the rest of his gang be.

“Let's kick him in the spleen, baby!” Alix screams at the top of her lungs.

“Spleen?”

“I've got an anatomy test on Tuesday. I'm sooooo gettin' my med school on. There's gonna be two doctors in this alternative lifestyle family!”

By the time Wallace is ready to resume combat, a groaning Krista is there to meet him with her tripod, attacking with velocity so bewilderingly fast that One Eye dares not even strike back. He throws a feint punch towards Krissy's lovely face, then drops and spins into a reverse ankle sweep. But not only does Krista effortlessly overlap this strike, but Wallace almost loses his own footing to a leg sweep from Ally Cat. Alix then slams a giant plastic stalk of corn into her foe so hard that the shock of deflecting it buckles the man's elbows. Unable to power his way through COD's numbers advantage One Eye beats a hasty retreat, using his time spent as a high school track star to quickly out race the girls. His speedy feet take him into a surprisingly small outdoor forest set for the movie adaptation of [i]Where the Wild Things Are[/i]. The luscious tropics, and fabulously colorful foliage afford Wallace little protection from various attackers, and he's soon accosted by a new even more frightening adversary, an outrageously imaginative monster (or man in a monster costume) from the film. The colorful character stands several inches taller then the spooked human, and boasts a proud black mane, enormous ebony eyes that glisten like onyx gems, and bestial fangs. Coarse white fur covers his naked body, and razor sharp fangs protrude from his hands and feet. The animal regards the intruder with a look of confusion and understandable distrust. His curious eyes peer into One Eye, who's body is doused in sweat and trembling with fright.

Left alone in what looks like an MC Escher painting with a nearly seven foot monstrosity, with all other traces of humanity having mysteriously disappeared , One Eye's dark face goes white with very real fear.

“Got dayum, I ain't even trynna be part of this mess.” He mumbles, not wishing to upset the gruesome fellow. “If you up and leave this piece lookin' to come do me dirty, then my name is [i]Vincent Santana[/i] and I stay at 6099 90th street. Some niggas call me whitey, and I like to wear a long blond wig, and make my skin look real pale. Once again Vinny Santana, 6099 90th street.”

Of course if One Eye wasn't an illiterate moron he might have read [i]Where the Wild Things Are[/i] as a child and known that the creatures were of a friendly nature. But he didn't read the book, and when the monster extends his hand in friendship and even grunts the word “Friend”, he reacts like the LAPD just busted in for a drug raid, and hauls ass out of the beautifully decorated jungle. Waiting for him at the edge of the forest with the rest of civilization are his much smaller, much more human foes, Chicks Over Dicks. The second he steps onto the pavement, Krista's spear is there to meet his neck. Only a frantic whirling block, coupled with a side kick that catches Krissy in the shin, buys him enough time  to stay upright and leap away again; and when he touches down on his feet---

Alix is there to demolish him with a diamond cutter!

TAYLOR
I don't know how fun a diamond cutter onto concrete can be for the recipient or the person preforming the move, but it looks like it did the trick for the girls!

Alix spots another referee, Clem Buzzlefoxer JR, making his way towards the chaotic scene to at least grant the appearance that this is an actual wrestling match. Strangely enough he's situated within an oversized shopping cart that's being pushed by cartoon skunk Pepe Le Pew. Alix decides it's best not to question this arrangement, and turns to Krista.

“Don't you wanna pin One Eye?” Ally asks.

“Don't you want to eat me?”

“Here? Right now? In front of all these costumed cartoon animals? Hey, if you're amped on the whole furry scene, that's you're thing, but I....”

“Is sex the only thing you think about?”

“No, I think about unicorns. And popcorn mogul Orville Redenbacher. And what the world might be like were this mythical beast and snack food titan to have sexual relations.”

Sighing to herself Krista waits for Buzzlefoxer JR to arrive to the pinning predicament When he finally does reach the brawl, she lies on top of her foe for the first official pinfall of the contest

ONE

TWO

BUT THE BATMOBILE(!!!) COMES ZOOMING TOWARDS THE PINFALL, RUNNING OVER CLEM BUZZLEFOXER JR! HEAVEN NEEDED A REFEREE THAT RARELY OFFICAITES TELEVISED MATCHES.

MELODY
ROTFLMAO! H@X0RED N00B! REPLAY IT! REPLAY IT!

[quote]BUT THE BATMOBILE(!!!) ZOOMS PAST, RUNNING OVER CLEM BUZZLEFOXER JR! HEAVEN NEEDED A REFEREE THAT RARELY OFFICAITES TELEVISED MATCHES.[/quote]
MELODY
ROTFLMAO! AGAIN!

[quote]BUT THE BATMOBILE(!!!) ZOOMS PAST, RUNNING OVER CLEM BUZZLEFOXER JR! HEAVEN NEEDED A REFEREE THAT RARELY OFFICAITES TELEVISED MATCHES.[/quote]
MELODY
AGAIN! AGAIN! AGAIN!

[quote]BUT THE BATMOBILE(!!!) ZOOMS PAST, RUNNING OVER CLEM BUZZLEFOXER JR! HEAVEN NEEDED A REFEREE THAT RARELY OFFICAITES TELEVISED MATCHES.[/quote]
MELODY
(foaming at the mouth and wildly waving her arms in the air)
AGAIN, N00B STAIN!!!1111!!$%##$!!!!

[quote]BUT THE BATMOBILE(!!!) ZOOMS PAST, RUNNING OVER CLEM BUZZLEFOXER JR! HEAVEN NEEDED A REFEREE THAT RARELY OFFICAITES TELEVISED MATCHES.[/quote]
JADE
AGAIN!

MELODY
Jade, you disgust me.

“Holy partially dismembered corpse Batman! That was pretty different.” Alix remarks.

Krista replies, “If ever there was time to use the “did anyone get the license plate of that truck” line now would be it.”

While busy and purposely oblivious studio executives walk past, stepping over Buzzlefoxer JR's mangled and bloody carcass, a groggy Wallace heads to his feet, totally unaware of what madness just transpired. What he is very aware of is the overhand chop being sent his way by Krista's blade. It slides off his instinctive guard, but the second strike meets with much greater success, scorching his shoulder blade.

MELODY
Remember when the referee got ran over by the Batmobile and DIED? LOL E-WRESTLING PALS!

Marcellus slips away from an overhand slash, and springs backwards to reposition himself near the storage locker door. Krista leaps for him again, but this time One Eye meets her charge easily. Now it's his turn to launch a blustering attack, and he wastes little time in doing so, throwing his full weight behind bullish charge. Krista won't be mowed down by her bullying rival, and stands her pole onto the ground. The swordswoman uses it as pivot to thrust herself forward and meet her oncoming attacker with pressed together tennis shoes. Her feet act on her murderous will and crash into One Eye's face, vaporizing his short lived moment of offense. Wallace crumples into the storage locker door, face blank, mouth slack, eyes glazed over. One Eye, cringing and shrinking with dread, still finds some hope in his heart that his massive strength advantage has not failed him at the worst possible moment, that all is still proceeding according to plan-

That is until Krista springs forward to spear(the actual move) his anguished body through the dilapidated doorway. The world seems to roll around the two, as they topple down a flight stairs in a pendulum like swing. Plaster fragments and hunks of rubble peel to the side, victims of the warriors' downward fury. Neither competitor treats the stairwell like the rocky surface it truly is, instead acting as if it is a corrugated stretch of floor, taking shots at one another while they ungracefully tumble to the bottom of the cliff. The once larger then life sports entertainers turn into tiny specks, for the camera man has no desire to follow them down and film their brewing hell storm.

[font="Arial Black"][color="#008080"]Courtney Cox[/color][/font] strolls past by the anarchic display and comments, “Good lord, that Lisa Kudrow still has quite the temper I see. Poor Matt LeBlanc may never recover from the skunk incident.”

“Alrighty then.” Alix says to herself, then shouts down to Krista. “While you spend quality time with an accused rapist, I'll just go find a referee who hasn't been caused permanent brain damage by a superkick, or hasn't been murdered by a classic piece of Americana. Okie dokie?”

MELODY
ROTFLOL! ONE! TWO! Ahhhhh I'm dead! ROTFLOL!`

Alix's quest to hunt down those three remaining officials begins in earnest. She walks with her head on a swivel, and her steely grey eyes on constant alert. The only thing they seem to spot is the unusual assortment of props lying about the studio, overworked film crew, and stressed out actress and actors hammering their agent through a cellphone for getting them entangled into whatever ridiculous movie they're currently stuck shooting. Alix's examination is yielding little besides stares from gawking tourists, and an extreme amount of annoyance, and she has to rest her weary bones on a vacated golf cart to preserve what sanity remains. She pulls out her cellphone, furiously punching numbers as she prepares to unload on her own agent for talking her into an oaoast return. Her chastisement is delayed, however, by the shrill scream of an approaching woman.

“There you are! There you are!” She belts. Alix watches a tiny woman, who appears to not have slept one hour in the past week, zip towards her, evading an assemblage of key grips, men in monkey costumes, tourist carts, and a cage housing an actual live lion.

The woman's eyes are drawn to the strikingly beautiful, but highly perturbed culinary mogul. Even contorted in rage, her glassy eyes narrowed in disgust, Alix's face would be the envy of any aspiring supermodel. Her light brown hair hangs in disaray about her shockingly tan head and shoulders. Her pallid expression suggests to the lady that she must work with great haste to remove Alix from this unfriendly locale.

“Come on, we've got to get you out of here!” The woman bays, taking hold of Alix's hand.

At this point in time Allix assumes that anything would be preferable to participating in the oaoast's lunatic schemes, and eagerly goes along with the woman to free herself from the oppressive shackles of pro wrestling. 

JADE
Uh, is that it? Is that how it ends? With a woman who looks like a sawed off Rosie O'Donnell kidnapping Alix to join some Hollywood cult?  Alix, come back to us!

MELODY
Who let these motherf**** batmobiles on my motherf***** set? LOL!

As they travel down the back lot curious eyes note their path, before turning back to whatever task lies before them. While she strides down the busy studio, she overhears snippets of various conversations, many revolving around a missing actress for the [i]Wonder Woman[/i] movie. Alix's mind is pulled back into reality when the woman leads her through the door of a soundstage. The first thing Ally notices upon entering the expansive structure is a chafed little man, baffled by mystery, marching towards her. His chest proudly bears a badge with the words executive producer scribbled across, alerting Alix to the fact that he a very important individual.

The man leans forward to stare into her eyes with a measuring squint. “Six million dollars. Six million dollars? And this is what you're giving me? Showing up at...what time is it even?” He turns a spiteful glare to the female assistant  “Did I not say to get her out of her trailer at eleven o'clock? Jesus creeping shit,  I don't care how many pills she's overdosed on, pump this bimbo's stomach and get her ready. And why the hell isn't she in costume?”

“Costume?” Alix questions, only have to a bundle of skimpy leather tights thrust into her arm by a wardrobe manager.

The executive producer sighs. “The bigger their tits get the smaller their brains get. [font="Impact"][color="#FF0000"]Wonder[/color] [color="#0000FF"]Woman[/color][/font], Socrates. Wonder....Woman! Do you get me? Get in costume, and why is her hair light brown! Wonder Woman has dark black hair. Do you idiots in makeup not know that? Or am I working with the American union of fucking deaf, dumb and blind film staff? Get her in costume!”

“Go, honey, go quick.” The female assistant pleads, but Alix remains shellshocked over having lucked into her first leading role in a movie you don't have to be 18 or older to buy.

Thinking that Alix is off put by the prospect of another big budget comic book movie, female co-star, and daughter of Goldie Hawn.......

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/katehudson.jpg]
[size="2"][b][font="Comic Sans MS"][color="#9932CC"]Kate Hudson[/color][/font][/b][/size] comes to console her. “Sweetie, it's gonna be okay. Look, sometimes you gotta do the safe picture, to do the artsy pictures. Sometimes you gotta do the pay your friend back picture, and sometimes you gotta do me [i]You, Me and Dupree[/i]”

OWEN WILSON
:(

“Give me a tiger face.” Kate encourages the nervous gal.

“RAWWWWR!” Alix howls with impressive gusto.

“Monkey face!”

“OOH-WAH! OOH-WAH! OOH-WAH!”

Kate presents a dismissive wave of her hand. “Eh. That's more of an orangutan face.”

“Same thing, babe.”

“No, the orangutan is a member of the great ape phylum of primate classification. It's not a monkey, Alix.”

“Hey, Goldie locks, who's the federal wild life marshal here me or you?”

“Neither of us, actually. But it doesn't matter.” She turns to director Joss Whedon. “Where should we take it from?”

“Take it from these nuts, bitch!” a man blusters from the distance. “What's the motherfucking name?”

“Snoop Doggy Dogg?” Kate replies with a head shake.

“Naw, bitch, Vinny Santana!” says the man himself, entering in full [color="#00FF00"][font="Arial Black"]Joker[/font][/color] from Batman costume, complete with trashy dark purple polyester suit, purple gloves, a green polka dot bow tie.

“Affleck's finally gone off the deep end.” Kate laments with a depressed face.

“The Joker” parts the sea of crew members, holding an actual sword in his hand, having learned the usage of a weapon from his ordeal with Krista.

Alix(who managed to slip into the scintillating Wonder Woman costume in the confusion) picks up a knife and tosses it towards her rival. It moves with unbelievable velocity and strikes perfectly Santana in the chest. Unfortunately the knife is fake and plastic, thus it harmlessly falls to his feet.

“I hate how fake Hollywood is.” Alix whimpers.

“Here, catch!” The female assistant tosses a sword into Ally's waiting hands.

“Do you just keep a finely sharpened medieval sword on you for such an occasion?”

“It's a movie studio, we've got everything you could ever want.”

“In that case, I could totally use a Death Star, like, right now!”

“On backorder.”

TAYLOR
Wonder Woman against The Joker, every comic book nerd's dream match. I think Melody just passed out from ecstasy overload.

JADE
I better get [i]The Monty Python[/i] DVDs to revive her.

Who needs DDTs, suplexes, and anklelocks when you can have god damn sword fight between iconic comic book characters? Glimmering blades cross, and the miniature volcano in the cave scene in the distance echoes their lightening with a shout of fire. Exchanges flash, leaps are side slipped or met with flying kicks, ankle sweeps are skipped over and punches are parried. A collection of light fixtures falls to pieces, as Vinny skirts backwards to avoid her latest thrust. Monitors explode in fountains of white hot sparks as spasming sword strikes rip through them. A roar of a kick blasts Vincent into a wall, smashing breath from his lungs, and drawing enthusiastic applause from the female assistant and Kate Hudson. The shot leaves the brawler half stunned, and swaying on his feet. Alix bounds over a group of wowed makeup artists and lifts her blade for the kill.

“I don't remember seeing The Joker in the script.” The director, Joss Whedon, tells the executive producer.

“There's a script?”

Vincent has one trick up his sleeve, that's almost certain to save him from a grizzly end. He twitches one finger, pressing a button on his bow tie to emit a blast of water from a hole in the center. The stream catches Alix perfectly in the eye and wreaks havoc on her trajectory, causing her to not only miss Vinny by several inches, but for her weapon to tumble out of her hands. Vincent reaches forward. Her sword twists in the air and flips into his hands. Grinning devilishly he poised both lethal blades into a cross in front of him.

“Ice cold, ho!” He belts. “I'm the best there ever was!”

Alix roars her disagreement with that statement, and flies towards the skinny grappler, using her feet to crash him into the film crane once more. Snarling with a ferociousness that betrays her cute face, Her hands seize “The Joker's” wrist with impossible strength forcing his thin arms wide. Whitey feels the bones in his forearm bending, beginning to feather towards the greenstick fractures that would come before the final breaks.

MELODY(waking up)
Wait, what's going on? The Joker? Wonder Woman? Joss Whedon? Live? In front of my very eyes? Oooooooh.....

FAINT!

With “Wonder Woman's” grip on his wrists bending his arms near to breaking, forcing both their weapons down in a slow impossible arc, a whimpering Santana lets go. Startled by his sudden surrender, Ally instinctively shifts her grip, releasing one wrist to reach for her blade. In that same instant Whitey twists free of her other hand and catches up with his own sabre, reversing it through his forearm so that his quick parry of Ally's thundering overhand not only blocked the attack but directed both blades to slice into the crane against which he stood. He slides her proceeding thrust through the air behind him, guiding both blades up and over his head in a circular sweep, allowing him to use of Alix's next chop to drive himself backwards through area and into the high tech cave scene with it's billowing smoke and falling cylinders.

Vinny takes a moment to scream,“Owen Wilson, you were my shit in [i]You, Me and Dupree[/i]”

OWEN WILSON
:)

The brunette beauty follows, constantly attacking, forcing a worried Vinny to give ground and retreat along a narrow balcony of rocks. Ally Cat forces him back and back, slamming her blade down with strength that seemed to flow from the “volcano” bellow. “Down ya go!” she screams, spinning and whirling, carving up everything in her path. Vincent frantically backs to the end of a walk way, behind him is only a strip of rock no thicker then his arm, connecting to another balcony along the way. With no place else to go besides through her blade, Santana steps backwards onto the platform without much hesitation, his balance impossibly flawless as he deflects chop after chop.  “Slice and dice is so very nice” She chuckles, following his retreat. Out on the tight rope of rock their blades blur faster then ever before, while Kate and the assistant inch closer to the brawl to cheer on Alix. They chopped and slashed and parried and blocked, neither one gaining any sort of upperhand. Smoke shrouds the nearby area, and the only real source of light comes from the glow of the fire pits bellow. In order to gain some type of advantage, Vincent springs from the tightrope onto a pillar of rock behind him. “Awww, you don't wanna play with me?” Alix bemoans, then flies in pursuit. Vincent leaps again, moving towards a set of makeshift rock stairs, this time launching a deck of  razor sharp playing cards to delay her chase. Ally effortlessly evades the oncoming bullets, as she hurtles to her rival's location. They spin and whirl throughout it's levels, and across it's stalactite platforms. Alix kicks off a nearby pillar, and latches onto an overhanging cable to float herself above the scrambling, skidding world bellow. “

“You don't mind if I drop in on you?”, she asks.

Putting her aerial advantage to excellent use, she swings through a wide arc over empty air towards her exhausted foe. But Vinny shoves out and meets her descent with his blade angled high. The adorable heroin responds by shifting her momentum in mid air and flicking a kick at his weak knees. The volley nearly topples Santana to a gruesome ending, but she's somehow able to retain his balance and live to continue the unorthodox fight. Moving with unusually fast speed, Vincent yanks his legs high before she can effort a second go round, and slashes the cable above Alix's hand. The onlookers spew forth shrills of horror, for it looks like the heroine may plummet to an unfortunate doom. But Alix has already shifted her momentum, swinging her back to the staircase and in reach of another cable. Knowing that he'll never be able to properly do battle with Alix if he's the only one who's stationary, he leaps onto a cable of his own, altering it's arc to reach the one from which “Wonder Woman” now dangles. But Alix, an expert gymnast of near Olympic level, is fully on her game and swings cable to cable against Vinny's advance, carrying herself across the landscape, requiring Vincent to do the same. A simultaneous crash of boots, carries them both spinning off the cables and onto a heavily slanted slab of karst (thing in a cave). While Alix's main cheerleaders, Kate Hudson, and the female assistant, sing her praises down bellow, “The Joker” heads to his feet. But he barely manages to get upright, before Alix pounces on him. They stand toe to toe, blades whirling and crashing on all sides, while the staff goes mindlessly about their business, thinking this is some sort of elaborate fight scene.

TERRY
This whole thing is pretty cool!

JADE
Terry, you wouldn't know cool if I dumped ice cubes down your pants!

TERRY
Krista has dumped plenty of ice cubes down my pants, so I think I have a good idea of what cool is, Jade.

Vincent decides that he doesn't really wish to know what it's like to be stabbed through the chest, and turns Alix's sabre aside with a two handed block, following the strike with a solid kick that knocks the two apart and pushes her farther down the hill. Vinny trails her path, sprinting into a leaping dive, making a spear of his blade.

“You are gonna be one sorry monkey!” Alix gleefully informs “The Joker”, as she leans aside and deflects his thrust almost contemptuously; she misses a cut at his legs as the brawler flies past him. He then turns his dive into a forward roll that left him barely teetering at the end of the slanted cliff. Vinny snarls a curse the second he realizes he has been suckered into affording his feisty foe the higher ground.

“Alix to Air Traffic Control, I'm coming in for a landing!” She bellows then leaps towards her waiting adversary. He reaches his blade upward to cut at her oncoming knees---

Half a second to slow. Vincent's whirl to parry did not meet her knees as he had hoped, only the cold silence of empty air. Naturally she meets with far greater success then he, flushing him down with a simple enziguri that topples him forward, then rolls his empty husk of a body onto the floor bellow. The observers bestow a hearty round of applause, cheers, and adulation upon the beautiful victor.

JADE
An action sequence worthy of an MTV Movie Award, and Melody missed the whole thing. She's gonna be po'ed when she wakes up. Great job by Alix. Although Krista probably would've sliced off Vinny's fingers then served them as delicious snack treats for the crew, but not every one can be as great as Krista!

“Please tell me someone got that on film!” Alix shouts with smug satisfaction.

“Way to go!” Kate Hudson celebrates.

Alix flicks her luscious hair in arrogance. “They don't call me sizzle lips Spezia for nothing”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing really, I just thought you might like to know that they call me sizzle lips Spezia.”

To make the situation even more joyful, Charles Robinson, comes plodding to the fallen Militia member. Alix requires no further cues, and applies what should be the winning pinfall.

KATE
ONE


KATE
TWO


OWEN WILSON HITS ROBINSON IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD WITH A STEEL CHAIR!

“What did you do that for?” The female assistant inquires.

“This man, this Vinny guy, said he liked [i]You, Me and Dupree[/i]. That touched me in...a real special place. That is an exclusive club who's ranks decrease with repeated viewings, and I just can't afford to lose any more members. You guys know that! I'm sorry.”

TAYLOR
That leaves two referees, Clem Buzzlefoxer SR, who's living on borrowed time as it is, and the German Helmut Wolfgang.

We're transported across the lot, where a most unusual scene is occurring in a bare bones office. Within the confines resides.....

[img=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/biffreal.jpg]
[b]Biff Atlas![/b]

[img=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/flexnew.jpg]
[b]Flex Phillips![/b]

AND....

[img=http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/153/1120383~Gwen-Stefani-Posters.jpg]
[b][color="#FFA500"][font="Arial Black"]Gwen Stefani[/font][/color][/b]!!!

NRG founders, Flex Phillips and Biff Atlas are engaged in a heated round of negotiations with pop superstar Gwen Stefani. Standing in the background is the long absent German referee, Helmut Wolfgang.

“I won't do it. Forget it, guys.” Gwen says with a touch of finality that imbecilic Flex fails to pick up on

“Come on! It's the Flexster you're talking to. You have to do it.” Flex jabs his fingers into his pecs, as if accentuating his flopping man tities is some kind of new wave corporate negotiating technique.

“I'm not endorsing anything from NRG. The last time I had one of your protein shakes, my skin was green for a week.”

“Perfect for the role of She-Hulk! You were born to endorse the Chocolate Berry Blitz. Just try saying the slogan with me. It's Berryily Blitzxcellently Chocoblastltastic!”

“Those aren't even real words, man.” Stefani corrects.

“Flex,” Biff chimes in “Lemme handle this one. I am a pure ladies man. Observe.” Biff leans out an open window to hit on the most masculine looking lesbian, his idiotic mind can find. He motions her over with one finger, and she amazingly comes to greet him. “Baby, I just made you come with one finger, imagine what I could do with one hand.”

“Drop dead asshole!”

Gwen is saved from the meddlesome pitchmen  when a pair of warring bodies comes bursting through the front door. They land like panthers on the floor bellow, and race to their feet to continue their vituperative slugfest. The camera pans out to reveal the two fighting beasts as none other then Krista Isadora Duncan and Marcellus Wallace. There is a striking oddity to their scrape, that of their highly bizarre choice of headgear. Krista's head is encased in a Bugs Bunny mask, while One Eye has chosen to shield himself with the visage of Bugs' archrival, Daffy Duck.

“Save me, Madonna!” Biff shrieks, then hides behind the platinum recording artist.

Despite the fact that he got her name wrong, and that neither competitor is paying a lick of attention to the witless duo, Gwen raises a chair to protect Biff from a beating he's sure is coming.

“No body move, no body gets hurt!” She yells, angling the chair between the now frozen fighters.

“Got dayum, ya'll white bitches crazy!” Wallace bemoans.

Having seen similar situations countless times in Looney Lune cartoons, Krista simply points to One Eye and says “Duck season!”

The chair moves towards One Eye's head forcing out a quick “Rabbit season!”

“Duck season!”

“Rabbit season!”

“Duck season!”

“Rabbit season!”

“Rabbit Season” Krista says with a sly smile.

“Duck season!” Wallace hollers, then shortly realizes the error of his ways. “Oh shit!”

[color="#8B0000"][b]BAM![/b][/color] Stefani clobbers Wallace's face, shattering the mask into tiny black and orange specks, and pulping him into the carpeted floor. Krista discards her disguise, as she leaps on top of him for a pin; which is scored by the German official.

JADE
This might be it. Krista's gonna win, just like always!

ONE


TWO


A veil of red suddenly descends upon Wolfgang's world. He claws at his throat, but there is nothing there his hands can touch. He wants to scream, to beg, to howl, but his locked throated strangles all words within his neck, and the world of crimson smokes towards black. The ground falls away beneath him, and a white flash of impact blasts him into an unknown abyss.

Gwen rushes to check on the immobile referee's condition “Oh my god.” She murmurs, searching out a pulse. “This dude is dead. He choked to death.”

“Jesus tap dancing Christ!” Krista whines, clasping her golden locks in frustration. “On what?”

A shrug of the shoulders. “Not sure.”

The answer to that million dollar question is revealed when the bloodless fingers of the deceased German uncurl to reveal the empty wrapper of an NRG Strawberry Smash protein bar.

Biff and Flex turn to each with mouth held agape.

“Uh...” Flex stammers. “That ain't got nothing to do with us!” He exclaims, then he and his partner in crime head for the hills, not intending on stopping until they reach Mexico.

MELODY
Biff reminds me of one of those dorks on message boards who post pictures of their woman and act like "Yeah, look at my two hundred ten pound cutie, she's so awesome and SEXXY and don't you think" and it just makes me cry for their lack of self-awareness.

“Wow, that's kinda crappy.” Gwen notes

“I know! Now there's only one referee left, and he's eighty something years old, and is most likely already dead, with his corpse on the way to a land fill on San Diego. Shit, shit, shit! There's gotta be someone who can do something.”

Maybe there is, maybe there it isn't. Regardless, Krista holds out hope, and exits the office to continue the eternal search. She stands on the studio lot, scanning for any sign of the last remaining official, Clem Buzzlefoxer SR. With no sight of him in the immediate vicinity, Krista realizes she'll have to go on an in depth man hunt. But her weary legs, and tired body make no bones about their distaste for expansive movement and force her into checking for the referee in a nearby trailer.

“Hello?” She peers into the lavishly decorated area. “ Clem, come on out, buddy! One of the groundskeepers found your tube of condisil cream! Here's the match over here, Clem! And here's your head, far away from the match and jammed right up your wrinkled ass! Get out here now!”

“What are you doin..” A female voice calls out, but stops short to instead say, “Oh, it's you! Finally!” Peering from behind the counter is Oscar award winning actress and dead ringer for Krista, [b]Charlize Theron[/b]. She leaves behind her pot of gumbo to dart to the doorway and give a throughly confused Krista an enormous hug.

“I know we've talked to each other at awards shows and everything, and we'll probably chat at the Oscars on Sunday, but it's so great to finally get to talk, in private, with the woman who's life story I'm bringing to the big screen.”

CONFUSION!

“Didn't your agent tell you? I'm playing you in [i]Dying to FIT in: The story of Krista Isadora Duncan[/i]! It's a movie about your life! I can't believe that dirt merchant prick of an agent never mentioned it”

“Yeah, well, that's the last time I ever use an agent who list his references as Dick N. Cider, Haywood Jablowme, and Mike LaToris. So, you're playing me, huh? I don't really see any resemblance.”

Patty sez: LOL!

“I have studied every aspect of your life, Krista. I know your hopes, your dreams, your thoughts and fears. I know that you want more for your life then putting out thirty minute exercise videos to help lonely housewives get a better bikini BUTT. I look into your beautiful blue eyes and see a sad soul crying out, when lord, when? When can your lowly servant be free of this immature, ditzy life partner to whom I am a constant victim of her every gaffe, every folly, every fault, so much so that it has pushed me to most dangerous stages of alcoholism and drug abuse. Fuck! When, lord? When I goin' be free?”

Just hearing the words that have passed through Krista's mind countless times over the past five years, causes Krista to lose all emotional control and opens a flood gate of tears that have been waiting to be free for half a decade. She falls against Charlize's shoulder,salty tears pouring down her reddened cheeks. But her sob session is halted by distinctive sound of a motorcycle being started outside the trailer.

“What on earth?” they ask at the same time, while they journey to the window. The two women spot One Eye Wallace mounting a motorcycle, taking it to search out his comrade and hunt down Alix.

“I gotta get to that [i]Cool Runnings[/i] prick. But how can I keep up with a motorcycle?”

“They're filming one of those ridiculous made for TV westerns right around here. Steal a horse, and go [i]Tombstone[/i], Kurt Russel style.” Charlize suggests

Not the most responsible or safe of ideas, but if you're playing Krista in a movie, then you know all about her habit of making as many unsafe, irresponsible, high risk, and possibly death inducing choices as a twenty four hour period will allow. Krista thanks her doopleganger Charlize for the moment of therapy and advice, and bids her farewell, before stepping back into the outside world. From around the corner she hears a resonant [color="#4B0082"][b]NEEEEEIGH[/b][/color], as if a horse had just swallowed an air horn. The actual animal itself quickly extends around the trailer, where Krista rekindles her childhood love for horse riding by leaping onto it's saddle.

“Message to horse...move your ass!” Krista shouts, which sadly is exactly how she spoke as a cute but potty mouthed eight year old.

MELODY
All this competition, this chase for glory, makes me think of resurrecting my childhood dream of being an Olympic speed skater.

JADE
You know Olympic athletes don't make any money?

MELODY
No money? Forget it, I'll just stick to Crackdown for 360. 7.4? Yeah, right Gamespot.com go to hell! Dumbass Wii fanboys.

The horse (who we'll just call Bethani), gatherers herself and springs down the road, dodging past the outraged movie director, who screams at Krista for stealing the central character of his low budget film. Farther away from the outlaw duo, One Eye encounters his first obstacle, two crew members moving a worn out couch across the street into a prop closet. His vehicle sprays a fan of white hot sparks as he whips sideways, narrowly avoiding a bloody collision with the stagehands. Seconds later Krista and Bethani face the same challenge, but handle it with far more grace then Wallace ever could. Shifting towards their right they avoid the workers altogether by moving onto a ramp in front of craft shop. Krista grabs an American flag that was being held by one of the workers and launches it like a missile towards Marcellus' head. Howling in terror, One Eye zig zags about, and the pole passes through the space where his face used to be, skidding to the ground.

TAYLOR
Salute the flag, Melody and Jade.

MELODY
I'm Canadian.

JADE
And I'm a Virgo.

Krista rejoins One Eye on level ground, where he uses the mechanical power of his bike to push some distance between the two. But thanks to the glut of studio dwellers seemingly conspiring to get in his way, he's never able to build the speed he truly needs, thus Krista's right on his tail. In an effort to totally block Krista's path he makes a sharp turn down an “alleyway”, cutting to the side of a dumpster he knows Krista and her horsie will never be able to maneuverer around. He's absolutely right, they don't maneuverer around it-

They eclipse it entirely in one beautiful jump, not losing a single inch on One Eye. Not willing to admit defeat, Wallace repeats the same tactic, pulling his bike in front of an approaching golf cart. The golf cart swerves to miss a passing One Eye, but in the process, blocks the easy path of Bethani and Krista. Bethani coils herself and springs over the cart, and the chase is on once more.

MELODY
You know who's a huge turd? People on message boards who sign each post, and then even personalize each one which makes it even more loathsome. "JOEY128. (Proud as hell of my little lady!)" Yeah smoke crap N00b!

Ooookay. They race through an outdoor set of [i]Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince[/i], clawing along hills and ravines, shooting past battling wizards, skidding and leaping, sprinting where the way is clear, and skidding to highpowered stops when it's not, whipping around knots of extras and bounding over crew. One Eye no longer holds any concern for the innocents, running through anything that stands in his path, the blades of his bike mowing through the set with indiscriminate destruction.

MELODY
I also hate those guys on message boards who have to “show off “ the fact that they're getting hitched when the ring they bought their fat monkey whore looks like something they won playing the claw game.  

Krista's hands chuck a series of wizard staves towards her foe, which he narrowly avoids as they make their way back into the central lot.

“Let's get a little closer, eh.” She mutters.

Bethani gains steadily. One Eye's vehicle has the edge in raw speed, but Beth can out turn it and make instant leaps at astonishing angles. The horse also owns uncanny instinct for where the brute might be heading and seemingly infinite knowledge of useful shortcuts to maintain pace with the man. One Eye tries once again to block Kris' path , screeching out into a nearly impossible to navigate maze of golf cart, pick up truck, and delivery truck. Impossible to navigate for anyone besides Krista that is. Krista motions Bethani to leap towards the roof of the cart. The weight of the thin plastic won't hold Beth for long, thus the horse makes the leap onto the trunk of the pickup truck. From there she sets her feet back on the ground, and the chase resumes, the pairing not losing a single inch on One Eye. With a burst of sustained effort that strangles her neighing, Bethani finally pulls alongside One Eye as they near a massive soundstage. Krista leans forward, stretching out a metal pole she had picked up along the way, barely able to reach the wheelers back curve, and carved away an arc of the bike's back tread, making the vehicle buck and skid.

“One more leap, Bethani!” Krista pleads “Bring me even with him!”

The horse complied with order, and One Eye swerved again heading towards the enormous open garage door of the sound stage. As they clear the first row of alarmed crew members, Krista leaps from the saddle to swing both her boots into the side of Wallace's head. The vehicle's internal  workings screamed at the sudden impact and shift of balance. Their shrieks cycled up as burst of smoke and fragments metal as their catastrophic failure sent the bike tumbling in a white hot cascade of sparks. Krista leaped free of the crash, and the momentum tosses Wallace out of the pilot's seat and in the opposite direction.

“Hey!” Screams Kate Hudson, cluing us into what sound stage we're actually on. “ There's Krista Isadora Duncan! I bought up all her exercise videos when I was pregnant. Alix, she's with you, you have to help her.”

“Help, is a funny word, Kathryn. Sometimes the moose head on the wall at my grandpa's house asks for help and tells me to travel to Manitoba to tell his children to bear arms and avenge his humiliation at the hands of the White Devils. Other times it asks me why they took [i]In Living Color[/i] off the air, and I'm like, dude, I just don't know.”

Down on the floor, One Eye and Krista resume their epic clash. A blooded haze settles  over her vision as she fights tooth and nail with the fearsome werewolf. One Eye's claws rake her skin, digging deep bruises into her flesh, but the pain only increases the fury raging within her. She gives as good she gets, picking up any discarded object from the floor and ripping into Wallace's facial features with furious force.

JADE
Come on Krista! You can do it! Come on!

MELODY
If you love Krista so much why don't you marry her, huh?

JADE
Why don't you STFU AND GTFO?!

Wallace holds the weight advantage over Krista, though, which he presses by knocking the woman onto her back. The beast pounces on top of Krissy, pinning her to the floor while his fists zoom towards her face. She tucks her chin to protect her face, then with an explosive movement, rotates to the right throwing One Eye off of her. Before the Militia member can regain his footing, Krista springs on top of him, holding a video monitor within her trembling hands. She stares furiously into the warrior's black eyes, seeing in his bestial face, every last ordeal and problem he and his associates have brought her and Alix over the past month. She pounds the gladiator's snout with her monitor taking out her pent up fury on the creature beneath her.

“No!” Vincent belts, hurriedly pulling his broken bones to their upright position. He turns to his “brother's” defense, and Alix spots her window of opportunity. She surges forward and drives her fingers into his throat, then follows that up with a viscous knee to the groin. He doubles over in raw pain just in time to see the horrifying vision of Krista taking one last hellish swipe through One Eye's face.

“Hot damn! This movie is gonna make Police Academy 3 look like Police Academy 5!”  Owen Wilson shouts to Kate Hudson who just shakes her head in pity.

Blood spouts like a fountain from the gangbanger's ruined face. He clutches at the mangled flesh with his huge mishappen hands, but there is no recovering from such a wound. He tries to roar but all that emerges from his gaping mouth is a wet gurgle. He topples over onto the wet concrete. His arms and limbs twitch convulsively before he finally falls silent.

JADE
Yeah, Krista! I knew she could do it! I knew it! I knew it! She's the best.

An anguished cry erupts from Vinny's throat. The sight of One Eye's defeat launches him into a murderous rage that easily overcomes the pain Alix just inflicted on him. He springs to his feet like a demon freshly released from hell. He attacks Alix with renewed fury, forcing her back towards the pit of fire in the cave scene until the blaze is right behind her shoulders. She fights back as best she can, parrying his blows with every last of her strength, but quickly finds herself on the defensive. His right hand closes about her throat, drawing blood with his claws, and she gasps for breath. His flesh feels sick and slimy against her skin, even as he crushes her windpipe with killing force. Using everything in her body, she pries his hand off her throat and thrust it down to the fire pit bellow! In the blink of an eye, Vinny removes his hand from the vat. But the damage is already done, he screams in torment, then acts on his rage by spearing her right through the chest, blasting her near the fire pit. She gasps out loud, as Vinny nears her, his barred fangs giving way to evil intentions. A thin smile comes onto his hideous face, as his eyes dart between her body and the pool of fire. But Alix isn't willing to accept defeat, and reaches behind her to grab one of the discarded blades. She drives the BUTT end of the sword up his chin so hard that it's a surprise when it doesn't emerge through the top of his head. He stares at her in absolute shock, blue eyes filling with blood, before [i]Krista[/i] spins him around and shoves him towards the smoldering heat bellow.

“Give up?” Krista asks with an icy cruelty taking shape in her voice.

Defiant as ever, he spits the word no to her face. His refusal gives her the exact excuse she needed to devilishly to lean his head closer to flames of hell.

“Give up?” It comes out as more of an order then an actual question, her tone taking on something less then human.

Flames lick the fringes of his shaggy blond hair, blackening the ends, charring it altogether at some points. Distressed cries seep from his lips, playing traitor to his desire to remain stoic. His body writhes in a panicked frenzy, but all that does is cause his tormentor to tighten her grip and happily direct his head closer to the executioner.

In the end there is only one choice for Santana. A choice Vincent is loathe to make, but one his unenviable positioned has required him to state. “Fine! I submit! Fuck!” He screams in agonized depression, gritting his teeth, nearly grinding them into pearly white dust. Between coughing sobs, he weakly taps out to physically gesture his twenty six thousand dollar failure.

“Good enough for me!” Cries the last remaining referee Clem Buzzlefoxer. The 88 year old is being transported into the area on a golf cart, driven by the same security guard One Eye punched out at the start of the match. Buzzlefoxer hops off the cart, with pants unzipped and unbuttoned, shirt on backwards, and strange liquid substance on his right hand. He runs over to the girls to raise their arms in victory, but they spot the sticky white substance on his hand and take a rain check on that formality. Owen Wilson rushes to Vincent's side, not to check on his condition mind you, but to get more compliments on [i]You, Me and Dupree[/i]. The surrounding staff throw up an enormous cheer for COD's victory, with Kate Hudson and the female production assistant running to Alix's side to exchange high fives.

Kate quips “I guess Vincent didn't know that [i]smoking[/i] is bad for your health.”

“It's too bad he couldn't handle the [i]heat[/i].” Alix comments

“I'm sure he's feeling the [i]burn[/i] right about now.” Kate responds

“Oh, he's most definitely [i]aflame[/i] with anger”

JADE
Whoo! They did it! Alix and Krista won the first ever Battle of Los Angeles match and keep their titles! Awesome! Although I didn't really do anything but sit here and talk, I feel like it's my own personal victory!

MELODY
I bet that's the last ever Battle of Los Angeles match. If this company heads into bankruptcy anytime soon you can blame this one for it.

TAYLOR
Let's go to Rodney Dangerfield for the official announcement....

DANGERFIELD IMPERSONATOR
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

JADE
Or not.

We go back to the winner's circle where Krista and Alix are chatting up about their victory.

“Krissy, we're so awesome right now!” Alix exclaims, as she traps Krista within her arms.

“You mean I'm so awesome.” Krista retorts only half sarcastically.

“Wha? We did it together!”

“Well, I was the one who rescued you from being charred to a  little spicy chiquita, and who figured out to win the match in the first place, and who had to get Seabiscut to chase down Ghost Rider, so you know...”

“No way!”

“Way!”

“Okay let's make up.” Alix decides.

“What?”

“I'm done arguing let's kiss and make up”

“We can't, nobody won!”

“Okay you win.”

“No I didn't.

“Okay, I won! Yea!”

“You can't do that!”

“Boy, you like to argue”

“No I don't.”

“Then stop”

“We're not done”

“Yes we are.”

“No we're not!”

TAYLOR
Uh, goodnight from Burbank everyone! Alix and Krista, should they stop fighting, will see you from the Oscar's red carpet, or maybe they already saw you, because I don't know when this show will air, Melody will see you from behind a computer screen insulting you from halfway across the country, and Jade and I will see you at the arena!

JADE
Hey, I wanna cruise by some swank Hollywood parties with Krista and Alix!

TAYLOR
I think D*Lux is waiting for you, Jade.

JADE
Right. I forgot.

MELODY
All n00bs die slow!

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/thatsallfolks.jpg]

Edited February 27, 2007 by Patty O'Green