"I'm Vince McMahon."
"I'm Gorilla Monsoon."
"And I'm Bobby 'the Brain' Heenan."
"We've got a sold-out crowd here tonight at the Tacoma Dome this lovely Saturday night, February 17th, 1991, ladies and gentlemen, and millions tuning in around the world exclusively on pay-per-view. Prepare yourselves for a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle. Bigger than Wrestlemania! Bigger than the Royal Rumble! Bigger than the Super Bowl! This is, the first, the last, the only - WORLD WRESTLING FEDERATION SATURDAY NIGHT SCP SHOWDOWN!"
"That's right, Vince," Gorilla said to his partner in the commentator's booth. "For the first time ever, we're going to see the WWF's greatest superstars go toe-to-toe with the strangest in anomalous beings the SCP Foundation has to offer! You're going to see the WWF World Heavyweight Champion, the Ultimate Warrior himself, defend his belt against the man they call Able! You're going to see a mystery wrestler - who could it be? - defend the honor of the red, white, and blue in a flag-versus-flag match against Lord Theodore 'The Gentleman' Blackwood! You're going to see a handicap match in the parking lot so intense that the network won't even let me tell you what's going to go down! By the end of the night, we'll know once and for all which of these two one-of-a-kind organizations is really larger than life! Thoughts, Brain?"
"Well, I've been watching these Foundation boys for some time, and I think they've got what it takes to go all the way."
"I don't know about that, Brain. I've been told the Ultimate Warrior has been training day and night in preparation for this showdown."
"They've got 'Rowdy' Roddy Piper himself guest-refereeing in that match. Who knows if he's gonna play by the rules?"
"Let's go to ringside," Vince said, "for our first matchup of the evening!"
"Ladies and gentlemen," declared ring announcer Howard Finkel, "the following match for the WWF World Tag Team Championship is scheduled for one fall!" A powerful guitar riff that in no way resembled Foreigner's hit single "Urgent" blared over the loudspeakers, the crowd erupting into cheers as two men in pink tights and black jackets approached the ring. "From Calgary, Alberta, Canada, with a combined weight of 515 lbs., the WWF World Tag Team Champions, Bret 'the Hitman' Hart and Jim 'the Anvil' Neidhart, the Hart Foundation!"
"And their challengers!" An uncertain chorus erupted as two identical looking men in black singlets approached the ring, each with a stylized amulet over their chests. A guitar riff which in no way resembled Foreigner's "Double Vision" played as Finkel announced the pair. "Hailing from Site-19, each weighing exactly 273 lbs., Dr. Jack Bright and his partner, Dr. Jack Bright!"
"I'm here live in the locker room," said Brother Love as he stood next to a heavily-tattooed man in black who dwarfed him in stature, "with one of the SCP superstars you'll see in tonight's man event. He's mean! He's mysterious! He's SCP-076-2!"
"Able," the giant corrected him.
"Of course," Brother Love replied as he daubed at his bright red forehead with a silk hanky. "Now, Able, your matchup tonight with the Ultimate Warrior has been the talk of the World Wrestling Federation ever since your interference at the Royal Rumble cost Sgt. Slaughter his chance at winning the championship. Is there anything you'd like to say to the people at home who've never seen you in the squared circle?"
"You who are watching me tonight," Able said, "know that I have come to the World Wrestling Federation not to entertain, not to teach, not even to compete, but to conquer! There is nobody in this arena tonight who is my equal! The worms who lurk these halls, who call themselves superstars - they are not worthy to stand against me! I will dominate all those who challenge me as I have dominated for ten thousand years, and when I leave this place, I will leave nothing but the bleached skulls of those fools who dared to stand in my way!"
"A lot of people have said, Able, that the Ultimate Warrior is a truly unpredictable fighter. Have you been making any special preparations for tonight's main event?"
Able laughed. "Ultimate Warrior!" he shouted as he pointed at the camera. "Your name is a lie, for there is no warrior more ultimate than myself! You say the spirits of the warriors past give you their power? I am the spirits of warriors past, and my power is beyond your ability to comprehend! I will leave here tonight the WWF World Heavyweight Champion, Jim - because I am Able, and you are unable."
"I looooooooooooooooove this man," Brother Love said.
"I SPOKE TO THE GODS AT THE HEIGHTS OF MT. EVEREST, MEAN GENE!" screamed the Ultimate Warrior - tasseled, his bare, oiled chest gleaming under the lighting, his face painted green and yellow, the WWF World Heavyweight Championship belt around his waist. "AND THEY TOLD ME THAT WHEN THE POWER OF THE WARRIOR FLOWS THROUGH MY VEINS LIKE THE LIGHTNING OF THE GODS, THAT ALL THOSE WHO FACE ME SHALL FALL LIKE DOMINOS ON A CHESS BOARD BEFORE THE MIGHT OF MY MONOPOLY! KING ME, ABLE! YOU HAD BETTER CONSULT AN UNDERTAKER, ABLE, BECAUSE YOU ARE GOING TO NEED FIVE GIANT STONE CASKETS TO CARRY YOU OUT OF THE TACOMA DOME TONIGHT! TONIGHT, I WILL HIT THE RING LIKE AN ATOM BOMB FILLED WITH DRAGON'S FIRE, ABLE, AND BLOW YOU HALFWAY TO PARTS UNKNOWN! I WILL PROVE TONIGHT ONCE AGAIN THAT I AM THE ULTIMATE WARRIOR, ABLE - AND BY THE TIME THAT I ASCEND ON MY STARSHIP INTO THE ANNALS OF GLORY, WITH THE WWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP BY MY SIDE, YOU WILL BE DISABLED!"
"Strong words from the champion," Mean Gene Okerlund said as the Warrior cleared his nasal passages and exhaled deeply. "Back to you, Vince."
"This has certainly been an excitement-filled night so far!" Vince McMahon exclaimed. "What do you think, Brain?"
"I'm speechless," Brain said. "I never in a million years expected Mr. Perfect to go down that easily."
"For those of you just tuning in," Gorilla Monsoon said, "the World Wrestling Federation has just crowned a new Intercontinental Champion in an amazing thirteen-second matchup in which Mr. Perfect was easily defeated by SCP-230."
"He just laid down the second that pink and yellow fella laid a hand on him," Brain said. "I smell a rat."
"Well, they call him 'the gayest man alive' for a reason, Brain."
"Which one are you talking about?"
"And the Hart Foundation holds onto the Tag Team Championship by disqualification, after six additional Jack Brights entered the ring."
"Truly disgraceful behavior from a man of science," Vince said.
"A few more of him and he could do the Royal Rumble by himself," Brain commented.
"And, of course," Vince interrupted, "Dmitri Strelnikov's win against Nikolai Volkoff has won him a shot for the World Heavyweight Championship at Wrestlemania VII next month - against whichever of tonight's two superstars leaves the arena with the belt."
"What was it he kept calling Volkoff?" Brain asked. "A dirty checker?"
"We're almost ready for tonight's special showdown in the parking lot," Gorilla said, "but first, let's go back to ringside, where Money Inc. - that's Ted 'the Million Dollar Man' Dibiase and Irwin R. Shyster, of course - are preparing to enter the ring for their handicap match against Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd."
Howard Finkel shouted into a megaphone while standing in the center of the parking lot. A circle of junk cars fifty feet across delineated the ring for this special matchup, and crowds who couldn't afford to get into the arena gathered around for a peek at the competitors.
Finkel gestured to a crowd of twenty wrestlers who had never been seen on TV before, and likely never would be again, in their identical green trunks and boots. "To my left, with a combined total weight of 5,173 pounds, hailing from Camelot, the Dragonslayers!"
"Have you ever seen a match like this before, Brain?"
"I've been in this business for twenty-five years, Gorilla, and I've never seen anything like this. I didn't even know this was legal."
"Only here and in Alabama," Vince said.
"And on my right," Finkel announced as he gestured to the giant scaly beast licking its chops in anticipation, "weighing in at Redacted pounds, hailing from Data Expunged, the one, the only, SCP-682!"
"Well, ladies and gentlemen," Mean Gene announced to the crowd as he stood by the entrance from the locker room, "I think it's safe to say that what we've just witnessed moments ago is unprecedented in the history of the World Wrestling Federation. In case you're just tuning in, during our special segment of Piper's Pit, Rowdy Roddy Piper, who's scheduled to be guest referee for tonight's main event, shook hands with his guest SCP-507 and they both instantaneously disappeared. I assure you we're working very hard to find a solution to this problem. In the meantime, for some insight into this situation, I have here with me the WWF's foremost expert on the paranormal - ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Paul Bearer."
The audience booed and hissed as the pale-faced, rotund man entered and stood next to Mean Gene. "It's woooooooonderful to be here, Mr. Oooooooookerlund," he said as he caressed the brass urn in his hands.
"Paul Bearer, you've studied SCP-507's file front to back, correct?"
"And in your opinion, where are he and the Rowdy one right now?"
"They could be aaaaaaaaaaaaanywhere, Mr. Okerlund. Perhaps they're in a land of spiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiders! Perhaps, even now, they're lunch for giant aaaaaaaaaaaaaantelopes? Perhaps they'll run into my good friends Hawk and Animal in the dimension of doooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom?"
"Do you think they'll be back in time for the main event?"
"Perhaps they will be, Mr. Oooooooooookerlund. I hope Roddy Piper doesn't mind holding hands, though - or it might be a very long time indeed before he returns! A pity, too - I was already making funeral arrangements for him!"
"Paul Bearer, ladies and gentlemen. Now, I'm not sure what's going to happen if we can't find another referee for the main event, but -" Mean Gene cut himself off as he clutched his hand to his earpiece. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm being informed that we have a special announcement from headquarters. We now go live to the WWF Home Office in Stamford, CT, and WWF President Jack Tunney."
Jack Tunney sat at his desk in a gray suit, a stern look on his face as he addressed the camera. "As the result of anomalous action by an SCP superstar at tonight's event, special guest referee Rowdy Roddy Piper is currently lost in a parallel universe. The WWF and the SCP Foundation are currently employing all available resources to locate him and return him to this dimension before the conclusion of tonight's event.
"As the result of his absence, the position of referee for tonight's World Heavyweight Championship bout between the Ultimate Warrior and Able is vacant. Due to union guidelines, none of the WWF referees in attendance this evening are eligible to referee another match. As this absence is due to actions taken by an SCP superstar, it is my decision that the SCP Foundation must supply an alternate guest referee in the event that Mr. Piper does not return to this universe by the time of the main event.
"I have reviewed the roster of SCP Foundation personnel on hand at the Tacoma Dome tonight, and I have concluded that the only person among their ranks who is present and eligible is the person identified as SCP-073 or 'Cain'. It is therefore my ruling that Cain must guest-referee tonight's main event, and that failure to do so will result in Able forfeiting the match and any future shot at the WWF World Heavyweight Championship. Thank you."
"Well, folks, now that the ring has been cleaned up after the exciting matchup between Doink the Clown and Chowderclef," Vince said as the cleaning crews mopped up the last bits of soup and cream pie, "it's almost time for one of the most anticipated matches of the evening."
"Speaking of cleanup," Brain said, "I don't think that parking lot's ever gonna be the same again."
"What a shame," Gorilla said as he shook his head. "So much wasted talent. In any event, to recap the events of the last hour, we've seen the Macho King Randy Savage win the Foundation's SCP-619-J championship from D-33118, Ravishing Rick Rude defeated by submission in his bout against the Tickle Monster, and the Undertaker's match against SCP-173, of course, ended in a draw after the time limit expired."
"They just stood there and stared at each other for fifteen minutes," Brain said. "I think we lost more viewers that quarter hour than when Elvis Presto headlined the Super Bowl halftime show."
"Truly some suspenseful sports entertainment," Vince said. "Let's go to the ring."
"The management has asked me to inform anyone planning to leave the arena early tonight," Howard Finkel announced, "that the cleaning crews have not yet finished removing the Dragonslayers from the pavement. And now, the following flag-vs-flag match is scheduled for one fall!"
A chorus of jeers erupted from the crowd as "Rule Britannia" began to play overhead. A mustachioed man in khaki shorts and a pith helmet entered the arena, behind him an elderly man in a suit carrying the Union Flag.
"Now entering the ring accompanied by his manager Mr. Deeds, hailing from Westminster, London, England, a man who you will all agree is certainly not a telepathic sea slug, Lord Theodore 'The Gentleman' Blackwood!"
Mr. Deeds held the ropes open for Lord Blackwood to make his entrance, stopping as he approached the ring to yell at and shove an old woman in the stands. As Deeds planted the Union Flag on one turnbuckle, Blackwood leaned over to the announcer and whispered to him.
"Lord Blackwood demands," he announced, "that you stand and join him in singing your rightful national anthem!" Lord Blackwood grabbed the microphone from Finkel and began singing a deliberately off-key rendition of "God Save the Queen", which elicited from the crowd only further boos and a chorus of 'Blackwood sucks! Blackwood sucks!'
Within a minute, his singing was cut off by an electric guitar as "Real American" began to blast over the loudspeakers, and a tanned, muscular man in red and yellow, Old Glory held high above his head, marched down the aisle. "His opponent," Finkel announced, "weighing in at 303 lbs., from Venice Beach, California, the immortal Hulk Hogan!"
"I say," Lord Blackwood said to himself, "this isn't going to be very pleasant."
Vince McMahon glared at Able in his locker room, as the tattooed giant put the finishing touches on his costume. "Now, you remember I explained to you how this works, right?"
"I understand how to destroy anyone who dares challenge me," Able responded.
"But you don't actually destroy him," Vince said. "Just make it look real. Jim is one of our biggest draws. I don't need him leaving here in an ambulance."
"He has nothing to fear," Able responded. "I have observed him. He fights like a child. He is in more danger of hurting himself than he is of being hurt by me."
"Good," Vince said. "Oh, and one more thing - there's been a little change regarding the referee…"
The Ultimate Warrior was flat on his stomach, sweat washing away his makeup, as Able stood triumphantly above him. The Warrior tried in vain to raise himself to his feet - and Able brought the chair down over his back again.
"I can't believe what I'm seeing, ladies and gentlemen," Vince said. "The champ and our guest referee are both down on the ground, and Able is completely in control."
"Warrior made a big mistake when he hit Cain with that clothesline," Gorilla said. "If he'd read the files, he'd know any pain inflicted on Cain is reflected to the person dealing it out. The fact he even managed to knock Cain over - well, that's turned out even worse for him, as you can see."
"I still wanna know where Able got that chair from," the Brain commented. "He didn't even step outside the ring, did he?" Cain began to rise to his feet - and Able struck him with the chair as well, knocking him down as Able winced but was otherwise unscathed.
"What a maneuver from Able!" Vince said. "He's essentially beating himself with that chair and he's completely unfazed."
Able tossed the chair out of the ring and raised his hands to the heavens, mimicking the Warrior's classic mannerisms. "This could be it," Brain said as Able lifted the Warrior to his feet and tucked his head between his legs in preparations for a powerbomb. "We might be about to see a new champion."
Able had his hands on his hips and was about to lift the champ when a flash of light blinded him, and two men - one an overweight young man in jeans and a shirt, the other a surlier, more muscular man in a kilt and a striped shirt, appeared in midair and fell into the ring.
"What's this?" Vince shouted. "It's SCP-507 and Rowdy Roddy Piper, back in our own universe!" The young man rolled out of the ring as Able turned to face Piper, who had seen Cain on the mat and turned to have words with Able. While the two shouted in each other's faces, the tassled warrior behind them rose to his feet and began doing a triumphant dance. Piper leapt out of the way just in time as the Warrior whipped himself into the turnbuckle, clotheslined Able from behind, and quickly splashed onto him for the cover. Cain looked over just as Piper fell to the ground, and the two of them slapped the mat together for a count of one, two, three.
"The winner," Howard Finkel declared as the bell rang and thrash metal played overhead, "and still WWF World Heavyweight Champion, the Ultimate Warrior!"
Jim Hellwig stepped out of the locker room as he pulled his coat on over his shoulders and headed for the back door. The crowds were gone, the makeup and tassels were off, and the heavyweight championship belt was stowed in his suitcase. It'd been a long day and he was sore all over, and there was nothing more he wanted than to get back to the hotel and get a good night's sleep before he had to be in Sacramento for the house show on Monday night.
"Jim!" Vince McMahon shouted as he headed toward the door to the parking lot. "Great show tonight."
"Are you kidding me?" Jim replied. "That Able guy was completely in business for himself. I don't wanna see that guy in a locker room ever again. At least that little slug they got to fight Terry knew how to work a match."
"Don't worry about that," Vince said. "I've seen the buyrate. Even if these Foundation guys don't just dope our entire fan base with amnesiacs, nobody's even gonna remember this thing in six months anyway."
"Good," Jim said.
"Speaking of those Foundation guys," Vince said, "one of them asked me to give you this." He handed Jim a plain white envelope, marked only with the Foundation's trefoil logo. "See you on Monday."
Jim walked out the door into the performers-only lot at the back of the arena. Even from here he could smell the lingering smell of blood and gore from the 682 match. At least he only had to fight one insane monster that night, he said to himself. He stepped into his rented Toyota and started the engine. As he waited for the heater to chase away the winter chill, he opened the envelope and read the strange missive within;
To: James "Warrior" Hellwig
From: Gen. M. Bowe
You have been selected as a candidate for Mobile Task Force Ω-7. Report to MTFL Able, Site-19, 3/16/91 for briefing and physical examination.
Ducit ad viam victoria miles.