Chapter 5:
Scotty stood backstage with a million butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. He stretched his arms nervously as the US Title strapped around his waist reflected the dim lighting of the control stations and the inquisitive faces of the workers milling about. The young superstar had never recalled being so nervous before. What was causing him to feel so apprehensive now?
As a nearby stagehand signified that the commercial break would end in approximately one minute, Scotty took a deep breath and paced back and forth nervously. The Champion vs. Champion match was less than a minute away, and he just knew that Angle was going to get involved. Interference by the Olympic Gold Medalist was almost guaranteed; Scotty reminded himself that he would just have to be expecting it. After what had happened last week, he'd be damned if he was going to let Angle cost him yet another match.
Movement caught the young superstar's eye, and he looked up from his pacing. An arrogant Billy Kidman strolled confidently through the hallway to stand near his nervous opponent, the Cruiserweight Title gleaming around his waist. Kidman smirked and asked in a patronizing tone, "What's the matter, Scotty? Nervous about tonight?"
Scotty just glared at him and continued to stretch his arms. Kidman laughed mockingly, "That was a silly question, wasn't it? I mean, why wouldn't you be nervous about facing me? I'm only the best cruiserweight on Smackdown. And what are you? Just some scrawny, no-talent little SOB who lucked out big time against Angle."
Scotty stopped his pacing and turned to Kidman, anger flickering in his eyes. He said in a threatening voice, "What did Angle tell you? He convinced you to soften me up, didn't he? Well, I've got news for ya, Billy. It's gonna take a whole heck of a lot more than some cocky little punk like you to take me out."
Kidman held up his hands defensively, "Now, now, who said anything about Angle? Whatever I do in that ring tonight, I'm doing it for me. I mean, Angle's been doing a good enough job of humiliating you as it is; he certainly doesn't need my help to do it."
Scotty was about to unleash a venom-filled retort, but a nearby stagehand interrupted, "We're back in five.....four..... three.....two.....one!"
With a smug grin firmly affixed to his face, Kidman walked up the stairs to the ring entrance -- making sure to bump Scotty in the shoulder as he did so -- and walked out onto the stage just as his music played. The St. Louis crowd immediately unleashed a healthy round of 'boos' upon the confident young superstar. After a few tense seconds, Scotty's music played; the US Champion cleared his mind, summoned up his trademark smile, and ran out onto the stage amid a chorus of cheers.
Scotty interacted with all the fans as he made his way down to the ring to the sound of Tony Chimmel's announcement, "And his opponent: he is the United States Champion.....Scotty......2.....Hotty!"
After Scotty had gotten into the ring and the two belts had been handed to a member of the ring crew, the referee called for the bell. The two men simply circled each other for a few moments, staring each other down.
Just who does this guy think he is? Scotty thought angrily as he eyed the smug superstar in the ring with him, What the hell gives him the right to criticize my career? It wouldn't surprise me a bit if Angle just sent him out here to get me angry. No, I can't let my temper take over. I've got to focus, the young superstar said to himself as he steadied his breathing and began to calm down.
The two opponents locked up, and Kidman immediately turned it into a headlock. Scotty tried to squirm out of it, but Kidman's grasp didn't loosen. The US Champ aimed a few good shots into the ribs of his opponent, then shot him into the ropes. Kidman rebounded and went for a cross-body, but Scotty ducked out of the way, sending the Cruiserweight Champion belly-flopping onto the empty mat.
Clutching his stomach, Kidman got up and was met by a stiff kick to the gut by Scotty. The US Champ bounced off the ropes and hit Kidman with a running forearm to the head. His opponent was down, but not out. Kidman got to his feet almost instantly, but was met with a dropkick to the chest which sent him flying to the outside.
As the fans began to cheer for Scotty, Kidman picked himself up on the outside and shook his head in an effort to clear it. He eyed his opponent shrewdly; Scotty just stood in the ring with his hands on his knees, waiting for the Cruiserweight Champ to get back in the match.
Kidman slowly hopped up on the ring apron, and as he climbed through the ropes, Scotty sprinted towards him and hit him with a dropkick that sent him back outside the ring. This time, the US Champ pursued and met his opponent on the outside.
Scotty dragged Kidman to his feet and threw him headfirst into the security wall, much to the delight of the fans sitting in the front row. The US Champ picked his opponent up and tossed him back into the ring, not wanting to waste a single moment.
As Scotty slid into the ring and got to his feet, Kidman hit him with an axe-handle to the back of the head. Dazed, Scotty tried to get to his hands and knees, but his opponent just stomped on him relentlessly. After a few moments, the ref pulled the Cruiserweight Champ away and Scotty was able to get to his feet with a little help from the ropes.
No sooner was Scotty standing upright when Kidman was upon him with a flurry of rights and lefts. The US Champ blocked most of them, but several connected with his torso, knocking the breath out of him. Kidman shot him to the corner and followed with a running clothesline.
Scotty slumped to the mat, his neck throbbing from the vicious clothesline. Ever the opportunist, Kidman stomped away at his opponent's exposed chest for a few seconds before situating his boot against the US Champ's throat and pressing down hard. Scotty could only lay there gasping for air while the referee counted to four.
Kidman stepped off a second before getting disqualified and held his hands up innocently while the ref chewed him out. Gritting his teeth, Scotty pulled himself to his feet and kicked Kidman in the stomach as he made his way over to pound on Scotty some more. The US Champ followed up with a flurry of punches, followed by a standing dropkick which sent Kidman to the other corner. Kidman lay on the mat for a second, dazed. He went to sit up, but Scotty drop-kicked him in the head just as he did so.
Scotty covered the Cruiserweight Champ, but only got a two-count from the ref. Taking a deep breath, Scotty picked his opponent off the mat, shot him into the ropes, and knocked him down with a shoulder block. The US Champ then connected with two leg drops and an elbow, followed by another quick two-count.
As Scotty got up from the pin, the crowd suddenly lit up with a volley of 'boos'. The US Champ glanced around him, and sure enough, there was Kurt Angle strolling down the stage entrance with a bemused smile on his face. Scotty just stood there and glared at the man, daring him to interfere. Angle made his way to the ring apron, but just stood there and held his hands up defensively as the referee stuck his head through the ropes and demanded to know what the Olympic Gold Medalist was doing here.
As soon as the referee took his attention away from the match, Kidman snuck up behind his opponent and hit him with a low blow. Scotty's legs went numb as he fell to the mat in excruciating pain, Damnit! Pay attention, Scotty! he berated himself through the acute pain in his groin.
Kidman proceeded to stomp on his opponent as soon as the ref turned away from Angle, oblivious to the low blow. The Cruiserweight Champ picked his opponent up off the mat, shot him into the ropes, and connected with a springboard drop kick right to Scotty's face. The US Champ fell over, dazed. Kidman covered him, but he managed to kick out at two.
Scotty tried to catch his breath, but he was only allowed a second or two before Kidman put him in a quick ankle lock. Caught off guard, Scotty tried to get to his feet, but Kidman kept him grounded. The US Champ bit his lip in an effort to block out the lancing pain, but it was doing no good. His ankle felt like it was being ripped apart. He had to get out of this submission now.
Glancing around desperately, Scotty spotted the ropes just a few feet away. The young superstar clawed his way over to the ropes, inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter. The crowd began to chant his name in an effort to urge him on, "Scot-ty!......Scot-ty!.....Scot-ty!"
He was so close, but his ankle was being twisted in an unnatural direction. The pain was getting unbearable. He was going to black out if he didn't reach the ropes. If only he could reach those damn ropes; he was so close. Four inches......three inches.....two inches.....one inch.....half an inch.....almost there.....got it!
As Scotty grabbed onto the bottom rope for dear life, Kidman tightened the hold, trying to inflict as much damage as he could while the ref counted. Once the referee reached four, Kidman broke the hold and stood upright. The ref immediately got in his face for not breaking the hold sooner, giving Angle the perfect opportunity to run up and choke Scotty on the bottom rope.
The fans immediately reacted to the cheap shot taken by Angle, but the ref never saw the interference. Angle backed off, acting as though he hadn't done a thing. Scotty dragged himself away from the ropes, his throat sore, his groin still hurting, and his ankle throbbing. He felt horrible all over, but he had to keep fighting. It would be a cold day in hell before Angle cost him another match. It just wasn't going to happen. Not tonight.
Scotty dragged himself to his feet, acting as though he was much more injured than he really was in order to lure Kidman in; it worked. Kidman approached the US Champ with a smug grin on his face, confident that the match was all but over. However, as he got close, he was met with a stiff right hand by Scotty. The US Champion pounded on Kidman's face and torso as the crowd got behind him.
Bouncing off the ropes, Scotty leveled his opponent with a forearm to the head. Kidman landed on his back, but picked himself right back up. Scotty hit him with a clothesline; again, Kidman got up, a bit more slowly this time. Scotty kicked him in the gut with his good leg, then hooked him into a suplex and snapped him over his head to the mat below. Kidman crashed to the ground and sat back up, a hand on the small of his back and a pained expression on his face.
Scotty hobbled to his feet and drop-kicked Kidman in the head just as the Cruiserweight Champ got to his hands and knees. Scotty covered his opponent, but only got another two-count.
Not in any particular hurry, Scotty picked his opponent up and shot him to the corner, where he proceeded to stomp on Kidman's torso with his good leg. Kidman slumped down to the mat, beaten and exhausted.
The US Champ grabbed his opponent's head in an effort to drag him up, but Kidman unexpectedly raked him in the eyes. Scotty stumbled backwards, momentarily blinded, as Kidman whacked him with a running clothesline which sent the US Champ through the ropes and out onto the floor below.
Scotty tumbled to the outside, knowing that Angle would be trying to get involved in the match. He picked himself up as quickly as he could, and sure enough, there was Angle standing just a few feet from him, a look of disappointment on his face for missing out on the chance to slip in a cheap shot or two.
Scotty just glared at his enemy, daring him to do something, to interfere. Angle just glared back, a look of hatred in his otherwise placid blue eyes. After a moment or two of inactivity, Scotty decided that Angle wasn't going to do anything, and he turned back towards the ring. As he did so, he was met by a baseball slide to the chest by Kidman. Scotty tumbled backwards and smacked into the guard rail spine-first.
Angle backed off a few feet as Kidman slid outside the ring and chopped the US Champion in the chest a few times just for good measure. He grabbed Scotty by the arm and went to slingshot him into the ring post, but Scotty reversed it and sent Kidman running shoulder-first into the unforgiving steel post instead. Kidman stumbled backwards, stunned and in pain, and Scotty caught him in the back of the head with a perfectly-placed super kick. Kidman crumpled to the floor like a rag doll.
Scotty rolled back into the ring, clutching his throbbing ankle, as the ref began the ten-count. Kidman wasn't moving; the super kick to his head was enough to knock him out for good. The ref continued to count as a slow smile crept across Scotty's face. A win by count-out wasn't quite as honorable as a win by pinfall or submission, but it was a victory nonetheless.
Furious, Angle stormed over to a dazed Kidman and screamed at him to get his ass back in the ring and finish the job. Kidman's head rolled from side to side, but he was clearly too disoriented to make sense of what was going on around him. By this time, the ref had reached eight. There was no way Kidman was going to get back in the ring on time.
With a look of barely-contained frustration, Kurt Angle picked Kidman up off the ground and practically threw him back in the ring just as the ref reached nine. The referee immediately slid out of the ring and got in Angle's face. Scotty couldn't make out what they were saying from his position, but after a few minutes of arguing, the referee motioned to the back with a great flourish and yelled, "Get out!" loud enough for half the arena to hear. The fans erupted as Angle protested vehemently. The ref just pushed a distressed Kurt Angle away from the ring as the fans began to chant, "Na na na-na.......na na na-na.......hey-hey-hey.......goodbye!" over and over again.
Scotty got to his feet uneasily and smiled as Angle argued with the ref on the entrance ramp. He barely had time to blink before the big beefy arm of Luther Reigns hammered him in the back of the head. Scotty fell forward onto the mat, stars dancing in front of his eyes, Oh shit, did he come from the crowd again? Damnit! his mind registered groggily as he tried to get to his feet.
Before Scotty could even begin to defend himself, the mighty Luther Reigns stuck the smaller man's head under his arm and spun to the mat violently, delivering his patented 'Roll of the Dice' finisher. Scotty's head his the mat as the lights of the arena danced in his vision.
Not intending to let the ref catch him, Luther slid out of the ring, jumped over the barrier, and ran back through the crowd from which he came. Meanwhile, Kurt Angle, upon seeing his plan come to fruition, gave up his argument with the ref and headed up the entrance ramp. The referee quickly turned back to the match at hand and slid into the ring.
By this time, Kidman had caught his second wind and had managed to climb to the top rope unsteadily. Ignoring the distressed yells of the fans, the smug Cruiserweight Champion delivered his unique finisher, the Shooting Star Press. He landed right on top of the comatose US Champ, knocking every ounce of oxygen out of his opponent's lungs and stealing an easy victory.
Scotty 2 Hotty groaned and sat upright, his mind not quite registering what was happening. His entire body was sore, and he had a vague notion that he was supposed to be in a match at the moment. Slowly, groggily, his eyes began to work again. He looked around the ring, hoping to catch a glimpse of his opponent, but he was nowhere to be found. Then his ears began to work again, and he vaguely registered the fact that Kidman's music was playing. Wait......why was Kidman's music playing?
Scotty looked over to the ring entrance and saw the Cruiserweight Champion celebrating his victory with a very pleased Kurt Angle. Both men had smug grins on their faces; Scotty's stomach turned at the sight.
As the duo made their way backstage, something inside Scotty's mind snapped; Kurt Angle had inured his best friend, cost another one of his friends a shot at that Cruiserweight gold, and had caused him to lose two matches -- all in the span of less than three weeks! Enough was enough. It was time to end this.
Not even bothering to stop and mingle with the fans as he usually did, Scotty dragged his sore, aching body out of the ring and half-ran, half-limped to the backstage area, holding his sore neck all along the way. He completely ignored everyone he passed, including the other superstars who tried to talk to him or reassure him. Nothing interrupted him in his single-minded progress.
After what felt like an unbearably long time, Scotty came upon Theodore Long's office. Without even bothering to knock, he shoved the door opened and stormed into the General Manager's office. Long was on the phone, but upon seeing the look in the US Champion's eyes, he muttered a quick farewell and hung up.
"I. Want. Angle," Scotty growled to the shorter man, barely able to control his rage.
Long just held up his hands in an attempt to placate the enraged young man, "Now just calm down, playah --"
"Calm down?! Calm down?! Did you see what just happened to me out there?!" Scotty yelled, unable to control his anger any longer, "I won't stand for this any more! I want Angle at Survivor Series! I want to settle this once and for all!"
"Now hold on a minute, playah. You don't make the matches around here; I do," Theodore Long reminded the US Champion sternly, "Now I can understand your situation, but you must remember, Scotty: you are a professional, and you must act like one at all times, ya feel me?"
Scotty clenched his fists together and forced himself to calm down. Teddy was right. Now was not the time to lose his temper, especially when he was trying to request a match. No, he certainly didn't want to bite the hand that fed him. The US Champion continued in a much more civil tone, "Mr. Long, surely you have seen what Kurt Angle has been doing to me and the rest of the locker room for the past few months now. We can't allow him to just do whatever he pleases. Please, Mr. Long, give me Kurt Angle at Survivor Series."
"I'm afraid I just can't do that, playah," Long explained, "You see, I have just been informed that Kurt Angle has been drafted to be a part of JBL's team at Survivor Series. So as much as I'd like to give you Angle, I'm afraid I just can't do that, playah. However, there is another man that had also been causing you problems these past few weeks; a man that you have never faced before in a 1-on-1 match-up. Ya feel me?"
Scotty knitted his brow in confusion. Who the heck was Long talking about? Angle had been a thorn in his side for months now; who else could possibly compare to the meddlesome Olympic Gold Medalist? Then it struck him, "Luther Reigns," he snarled.
"Ballee-dat," Long said, "Now since neither you nor Luther seems to be occupied at Survivor Series, I decided to sign a match between the two of you. At Survivor Series, it will be Scotty 2 Hotty defending the United States Championship against Luther Reigns. Ya feel me?"
A slow smile spread across Scotty's face. This would do. This would do just nicely, "I feel ya, Mr. Long. A title defense against Luther at Survivor Series? Yeah, I don't have a problem with that," Scotty extended his hand, which was promptly shaken by Mr. Long.
"You be careful now, playah; don't go doing anything brash before the Pay-per-view. I want you in tip-top shape for your title defense," Long reminded the young champion.
"Don't worry. I wouldn't miss this match for the world," Scotty said as he turned to walk out the door. The US Champion walked past a filming cameraman he hadn't even noticed until now and made his way to the locker room.
For years, he had put his heart and soul into this business. He had sacrificed more than he could ever recall, and had devoted countless hours of dedication and hard work into getting to where he was with the business. He had busted his ass for years to get a shot at that United States Championship, and he had earned that title. He had earned every single minute of every single day of every single month that he held on to it. And the disrespect exhibited to him by Angle and his henchmen was beyond forgivable.
Come Survivor Series, he was going to make sure he proved to the world that his success was no fluke. He had earned every bit of it, and nothing was going to stop him from proving that once and for all.
Nothing.