[Open with a montage of IIWF action accompanied by hard rock music. The final chord lingers as Derek Mota puts a boot to the face of Scott "The Whine" Bloom. Suddenly, the screen explodes into a mass of fire and smoke, through which emerges the IIWF's familiar logo:] ##### ###### ### ########## ########## ########## #### ## ########## ########## ########## #### # #### ######## ##### ##### #### ## ##### #### #### #### #### ### #### #### #### #### ############# ######### #### #### ########### ######### #### #### #### #### #### ######### ######### ### #### #### ######### ######### ### ## #### ######## ######## ## # #### =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ## =-=-=-= INTERNATIONAL INTERNET WRESTLING FEDERATION ================================================= "COUNTDOWN TO SATURDAY NIGHT" - April 25, 1997 ================================================= [Cut to the IIWF Studio. The remote camera zooms down the aisle as members of the studio audience scramble to get on camera. Two guys dressed like cops wave a "We're (Do)Nuts About Night Patrol!" poster. A man in a tuxedo displays his "IIWF Penguin Patrol" poster. And two men, one wearing a Brody Thunder t-shirt and the other wearing a Mad Dog Watkins t-shirt, playfully jab at each other. The camera zooms toward Larry Morton and Becky LaRue sitting at the broadcast desk.] LM: Hello again everyone and welcome once again to "Countdown to Saturday Night." I'm Larry Morton alongside my broadcast colleague Becky LaRue, and what a show we have for you tonight! BL: That's correct, "The Mouse They Call Morton". Hey, I thought you were under arrest in Kuwait after slapping that Waffle House waitress. LM: Yeah, like any moron would believe a story like that. BL: "The Pervert They Call Steve Roberts" fell for it. Hehe. LM: Steve Roberts has been watching too many episodes of "Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman". Anyway, we have a big show coming your way tonight as we digest everything that's happening on the road to Birthday Bash, which comes your way May 10th. BL: Call your local cable company... yadda, yadda, yadda. LM: It promises to be a great event, highlighted by Chris Quigley's shot at IIWF World Heavyweight Champion Casey James. Many people thought "Quickstrike" would have that title shot at Ring Wars III. BL: Too bad "The Retired Motormouth They Call Dan Kauffman" couldn't hold onto the belt, huh? LM: We're just two weeks away from that great event and there's no telling what will happen between now and then. Fans, I've also been asked to issue a public apology on behalf of the IIWF for Steve Roberts' comments about valets on "Inside the IIWF". Some viewers considered Steve's comments to be sexist and.... BL: It's true, though. There isn't enough skin shown by IIWF valets. And what about the guys? Let's get "The Man They Call Creed" running around in a diaper for a few matches. I'll stick a few dollar bills in his Huggies, if you know what I mean. Whoo-hoo! LM: I don't think I want to... BL: Jello! That's what we need in the ring! Jello and midgets! Yeah, think of the ratings, then! Christopher Reeve and Stephen Hawking in a "Wheelchair of Death" match! Demographics, man! It's all about demographics! LM: Oh well, I'm sure Tim Dross will now have yet _another_ apology tomorrow night. In other news, earlier this week, we learned that IIWF President Dan Spreadbury, acting on behalf of the Executive Council, has banned managers and valets from ringside during tag matches until a fair ruling can be made. BL: No jello... no midgets... no valets at all. That's just like "The Chicken They Call Spreadbury" and his spineless vice president. LM: Well, the VP _has_ a spine... but it always hurts. BL: Oh shut up, "The Lemming They Call Larry". LM: Are you going to do this all night? BL: Probably. LM: Just a moment...I'm getting an urgent message from the director. BL: If it's anything like what "The Man They Call Director" says to me, you can't repeat it on the air. LM: He's saying that Billy Shakespeare is making his way... BL: ...to join us on the set. LM: Yes, how did you know? BL: "The Wimp They Call Shakespeare" is standing behind you. [Larry turns and is surprised to see Billy Shakespeare behind him. Shakespeare's face is painted half frown on one side, half comedy on the other.] BL: Nice look Willy. Very Goth. [Shakespeare ignores her and addresses the camera.] BS: 'Twas Othello, the dark moor, who did kill his wife at Iago's prompting. If life indeed imitates art, then Ronnie Paris, you didn't kick hard enough. It's not over til the fat lady gets her nose crushed in. But you don't know when a scene is over, do you Ronnie? I gave you your win, now stop trying to gain fame at my expense. You want more of the spotlight? You got it. Read your Hamlet, "Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works." [Shakespeare abruptly exits.] BL: Nice makeup job. Sort of a "Ronco Pocket Harlequin" look. Two in one. LM: Add red hair and he'd look like you in the morning. [Larry's giggling quickly turns to screams of pain as Becky drives her heel through his foot.] Ow! Ow! BL: Try not to bleed on my new shoes, "The Fool They Call Morton". LM: Ow, jeez that hurts! What I do for the L'il Mortonistas. While I attempt to recover, let's take a look at some footage from a IIWF house show held Tuesday in northern California. We had one camera at the show to get some promotional footage when none other than Dangerous Danny Dynamite came to the ring. Let's take a look... [under his breath] Oh man, that's gonna leave a bruise: [SCENE: A packed house show. "I will survive" by CAKE starts up, and the crowd falls to a hush. The lights dim and out walks Danny Dynamite. He wears a new outfit. Short black trunks, and a black leather duster. He sports a full goatee and mustache now. He walks to the ring and grabs a mic.] DD: IIWF... Guess who's back?! [crowd boos, some pop] Now, now, hush please. I have something I have to get off my chest. For close to a year now, I've been in this fed, and been trying to get some gold here. Myself and Reyna tried to unify the tag titles, but fell short! Then, we got caught up with Dan Kauffman! [big crowd pop] Ol' D.K. himself. What a great superstar. But, he swore up and down he was P.C. material. He proved himself later on down the road. The three of us, excuse me. While D.K. was getting all the looks, the TRUE Players Club were going unnoticed. So, we come up with a idea to beat the hell outta The "Q-Man" and get some news going. [big heel pop] NO DEAL! Quigley, I'm not gonna apologize for what I did to you. What's done is done. So, after months of hype about D.K.'s retirement, we FINALLY get some matches. And what happens? That two bit hick and his get along gang partner, ALONG with the Syndicate, jump us and put us out for months on end! Well... I took it with a smile. CAUSE DANNY DYNAMITE IS BACK! And I have a hitlist to go through. Casey James, Brody Thunder, Chris Quigley, you're ALL marked. Get ready to feel the wrath of a "Dangerous" man.. [Dynamite removes his duster and the camera zooms in, catching a new tattoo on 3-D's arm that says "Dangerous"] This isn't about wrestling. It's about survival. And Danny Dynamite will be the ONLY man to survive. [He drops the mic and heads to the back. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] LM: Now Dynamite... BL: J.W. really kicked his... LM: Becky! Dynamite's comments apparently had not been relayed to many of the IIWF's stars by Wednesday night, but the front office confirmed on Thursday that contract negotiations are in the final stage with Dynamite and his return as a singles wrestler appears imminent. BL: Good. The Syndicate need a new punching bag. LM: Speaking of Wednesday night, let's take a look at the results from the "War Room" card at the IIWF Coliseum: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ IIWF WEDNESDAY WAR ROOM RESULTS April 23, 1997 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ THE CELL def. SCOTT BLOOM SERGE ANNIS def. BARNACLE BROTHER BLUTO BILLY SHAKESPEARE def. MAURICE McARTHUR MAD DOG WATKINS def. EL SUPER GECKO CHRIS QUIGLEY def. JUMPIN' JACK CASEY JAMES def. BOBBY B. GOODE TIGER CLAW def. IKE SAMPSON ZODIAC CONNECTION def. W & W EXPRESS THE LAST RESORT def. NIGHT PATROL TAKEZO MUSASHI def. VICTOR KILLROY BL: It's no surprise our little surprise visitor Shakespeare was so peeved after losing to "The Pre-Pubescent Person They Call Paris" last Saturday. He almost lost to "The Jobber They Call Maurice" Wednesday night. LM: But not without the assistance of an injured, and very rough-looking, Ronnie Paris. We saw Ronnie earlier today in the IIWF Towers, and quite frankly, it looked like he could use a shower. It was very odd, though, that he turned down our requests for an interview. BL: And it looked like Widdle Wonnie hadn't shaved all month. You could almost see a beard on his face. Let's hope that little hygiene problem isn't contagious. If Mags doesn't shave her legs, she could wander out in shorts this summer and be mistaken for Sasquatch in the Oregon woods. These homeboys shoot first and ask questions later. "It dang sure looked like a moose, 'The Inbred I Call Deddy'!" LM: We avoided another Brody Thunder-Mad Dog Watkins brawl, but tomorrow night will be a different matter when those two rivals step into the ring against each other. BL: "The Man They Call Thunder" isn't afraid to mix things up with "The Dog They Call Watkins", as evidenced by their brawls in arenas, parking lots, and dressing rooms. LM: Hopefully they'll settle this once and for all tomorrow night. But Steve Kowalski and Joe Petrow may have to wait until Birthday Bash to settle their difference, although they're trying to eliminate each other before then. BL: Velcro arms and Teflon hearts. LM: That's the... what? BL: Nothing. LM: Uh... okay. The Syndicate made yet another enemy in young Ike Sampson, the Zodiacs used radios to communicate with Gemini, The Last Resort continued their unlikely rise in the Tag Team rankings, and in the ESWP Junior Heavyweight Championship Tournament Match.... BL: "The Runt They Call Enema" beat some killjoy. LM: That's Kill_roy_. Anyway, Takezo Musashi advances to the finals of the Junior Heavyweight Tournament against The Prince of Darkness next Saturday Night, May 3, at Club La Vela in Panama City Beach, Florida. BL: Oooh, "The Demon Currently Known as Prince"! That should be a devil of a match! Hehe... snort. LM: But I have a feeling by the end of the match the fans will be chanting "Takezo is de-mon"! Har har! Get it? "Demon... de-mon... da man"? [Becky just stares at him] Well I'll bet the L'il Mortonistas are just rolling on the floor right now. BL: Probably trying to get the fleas off of themselves. LM: Let's move on, shall we? ************************************************************************** --------------------- IIWF SATURDAY NIGHT PREVIEW ---------------------- ************************************************************************** ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ * "LONE WOLF" BRODY THUNDER vs. MAD DOG WATKINS ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LM: We've already told you about the history between these men. Whether it is in the parking lot or the ring, they both have an intense desire to hurt each other. BL: I understand that's why "The Spineless Jellyfish They Call IIWF Officials" wanted to get this third meeting between the two men out of the way. This match was originally scheduled for Birthday Bash, but the suits were afraid these guys would tear up the IIWF Coliseum before then. LM: Indeed. This rivalry has seemingly become a "best of three" series, with the deciding match coming up tomorrow night -- and we may have to bolt down everything in the building. BL: Won't that put a hole in Timmy's toupee? Hehe. LM: I think Brody Thunder would just as soon put a hole in Mad Dog Watkins: [SCENE: Brody Thunder is pacing back and forth in the locker room. He puts his hand to his mouth as if wiping away something. With his hands now on his hips he addresses the camera.] BT: This ain't the NFL. This ain't the National Hockey League. This here's the IIWF. This is professional wrestling. If ya have an off night here,ya don't jus' go to the end o' the bench... ...ya go to the hospital. [Thunder shakes his head in disdain.] Watkins... yer a lucky man, my friend. Our little scrap was jus' a glimpse o' what's comin' yer way tomorrow night. We both know it ain't gonna resemble any wrestlin' match. More'n likely it'll resemble a train wreck. I know yer comin' ta try an' put me outta this sport jus' like I am you. Only difference is... [Thunder rubs his hands together and flashes that evil grin.] ...I ain't goin' nowhere. Watkins, ya got a shot at the me. Make it a good one, son. I said I'm here fer two reasons. Money an' titles... an' not in that order. An as I see it, yer the only thing in the way o' my destiny. I know yer a tough hombre, my friend. I also know you'll bring everything but the kitchen sink inta our fight tomorrow night. That's fine. As long as I know the rules I can play the game better than anyone else. So Watkins, take yer shot. See what ya can do. Then step aside. Cuz either way I'm gonna fulfill my destiny as champion. That's not just braggin'... that's a fact about to happen. [The grin fades into a look of unmistakable anger.] As fer you, Steele, I don't know what yer problem is but I'm gonna tell ya somethin' an' I ain't gonna repeat it, so listen real good. I don't much care fer folks who stick their nose in my business. It ain't a healthy idea if ya get my meanin'. An' when ya hit me with that "Texas flyswatter", son, ya became a target, amigo. Ya can run, Steele, but ya can't hide. Yer gonna choke on that muzzle if it's the last thing on God's green earth that I do. Bank on it. I'm gonna settle this little score... rest assured. Ya jumped my back in something that didn't concern you. That puts you on the opposite side o'the line, my friend. A line I ain't afraid ta cross. So ya better grow some eyes in the back o' that squash o' yers. Yer gonna need 'em. This ain't no game, Steele. This here's my livelihood. It's how I put food on my family's table. Ya take a win away an' ya might as well have just taken food outta my baby's mouth. An' that jus' ain't gonna happen. Period. So Steele, I'll see ya real soon. An' Watkins, this is it. The "suits" are scared o' this match an' what's gonna happen. An' they should be. So get ready Dog... [Thunder again flashes that evil grin.] ...yer about ta get leashed. [Thunder storms off camera as the screen fades to black. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ * "QUICKSTRIKE" CHRIS QUIGLEY vs. SUBWAY PSYCHO ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LM: Like Tim Dross said on Wednesday, this would be a main event match in any coliseum in the country. BL: Tim Dross: "The Man They Call Hairless". LM: Would you stop that?! Chris Quigley... BL: "The Man They Call False Advertising". LM: ...told us Wednesday night that he is now looking out only for himself. And after Casey James put on a textbook display of technical wrestling for Quigley's benefit Wednesday, I have to believe that "Quickstrike" wants to send a message of his own tomorrow night. BL: Maybe so, but The Stinker is pretty good at taking opponents out of their game plan. If it comes down to a brawl, my money is on "The Stinker They Call Limburger Cheese": [SCENE: The empty IIWF Arena. Only a handful of lights are turned on. There is just enough illumination to see the ring, and make out a shadowy figure lurking within. It is the Subway Psycho.] SP: First off I want to put out a rumor some idiots around here have been circulating. For some reason the topic of my age is on everyone's mind. People are saying I'm getting old... I'm 27, got it? 27! I'm in my prime. Hell Terry Funk is twice my age and he just won the ECW World Title. Ric Flair captured gold at 47 and Piper is the "ICON" at 45. So don't worry about the Subway Psycho... I still got plenty of miles left on my tracks. I'll be here long after all the critics have withered away. I wrestle a harder schedule than anyone... there's no slowing down. There's no prelim matches for the Psycho... hell no. Week after week, PPV after PPV, who's the main eventer? Who sells the merchandise? Who puts asses in the seats? ME. I'm not trying to be arrogant but it's the truth. So don't try to write me off just yet... I'm the best wrestler that has ever or will ever step into a IIWF ring. Now onto this weekends matchup with Chris Quigley. It's hard to summarize my contempt for that little bastard in mere words. Ever since the runt has come to IIWF he's talked about his titles and accomplishments in other federations. What have you held here Chris? NOTHING! Titles from other feds don't gain respect... they put a target on your ass. And oh yeah, your big accomplishment to date is that you beat Dan Kauffman in his last match. Sorry if I'm not impressed. I beat Kauffman a month before that, and so did everyone else before Ring Wars. Kauffman was a shell of himself by the time you got him. But let me tell you this... I'm not. I'm here to tell you I'm bringing everything at you. For one day I'm going to forget about Tiger Claw and forget about the Syndicate. Because when I beat you in the center of the ring it will be my bargaining chip, my ace in the hole. You have the next shot at Casey James and I don't...but I figure when I beat you on Saturday, then after you beat James on May 10th, you're gonna owe me a title shot. Got that? Your first and last title defense will be against me. I'll hold up my end of the bargain by beating your sorry hide on Saturday... you hold up yours and find a way to beat Casey at the Bash. [Fade. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ * CREED vs. REQUIEM ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LM: The main event calibre matches just keep coming tomorrow night. Requiem actually called out Creed, which is something few men in the IIWF have done and not lived to regret it. BL: "The Rookie They Call Rookie" is on a 13-match unbeaten streak, but I think Requiem may be wrestling Creed at a good time. If "The Man They Don't Call Eric Clapton" manages to beat Creed, he'll get a shot at the Intercontinental Championship at Birthday Bash. And with just two weeks to go, I think Creed will be wrestling _not to lose_ rather than to win. LM: Valid points, but "The Man They..." darn it, now you've got me doing it! But Creed is playing some mind games of his own with Requiem: [SCENE: Just off Highway 5 in Central California, somewhere in that nowhere between the Bay Area and Los Angeles, sits a ramshackle off-white church, just overlooking a bluff. The church is as antiquated as it is abandoned - with the rusted out sign: "St. Jude's Cathedral" - acting as the definition of incongruity were ever there one. Across the fractured stone steps, and through the long-since-gone oaken doors, we see the interior of St. Jude's. A crucifixion scene which almost... almost looks as if from the Day itself, a musty organ which gives less the impression of days gone by than of songs which never were -- and a baker's dozen or so pews... broken down, carved up, graffiti laden... fit now for the seating of only the rodents which call this "church" home... ...and the red-gloved rookie Creed. The chiseled Creed sits quietly in a back corner. He is wearing his black street clothes, his San Francisco Giants cap perched respectfully at his side, the red gloved left hand calmly on his lap. Creed is his customary deadly calm, as he addresses the camera.] CREED: Momma was church-going folk. She'd get home sometimes, one -- two in the morning on a Saturday night, after gettin' off workin' two jobs to support us. No matter what, we'd be on up early for Sunday services at Oakland Baptist. Every Sunday. It was good... bein' with momma... Don't get around to church much anymore, got other things to worry 'bout. [Creed pauses, a rare moment of near reflection almost evident in his eyes.] Gimmick, this Saturday Night, if you wanna come at me like a 7 foot 300 pound wrestling machine - that's good. We can go like that. I ain't seen you in the ring much - little too soon to tell if you gonna be a big dog... or if you gonna sleep on the porch -- but I'll give you a go. Give anybody a go. But the other stuff - I got no time for the other stuff, Gimmick. The guitar and the sister and the soul-saving...all that mean nothing to me, son. Means less than zero to me. See, I don't know what you 'bout. Don't care what you 'bout. All I care about is winning... and getting that big belt. The World Championship Belt. Don't know what you gotta do - I gotta get that belt. I'm gonna get that belt. Only way I get it - is to go through Byron - and take his belt. Only way I do that... is by going through you, Gimmick. You want to "save me" Gimmick? You want to take away my pain? Then you come hard on Saturday Night. You bring all you got. And you do your job... and get out of my way, Gimmick. I don't want your "help". I just want your shoulders on that mat. You don't get nothin', Gimmick. You don't get my IC shot. You don't get my 13 match streak. You sure as heck don't get my soul. You don't get nothin' from me, Gimmick. But you're gonna get more of me than you can handle. [Creed places the cap atop his head, and turns to exit the church, pausing as he does and then turning around.] You know who St. Jude was, Gimmick? Patron Saint of Lost Causes. Maybe you should be here 'stead of me. Ain't no cause more lost than yours Saturday Night. [Creed disappears through the entryway and the shot fades. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] BL: Momma was good. Momma boughts me Huggies. I misses Momma. LM: Stop that! Creed's family situation is no laughing matter! In fact, I can't help but wonder if Creed is a bit jealous of Requiem, whose sister Gabrielle has joined him in the IIWF. BL: Lose the top, girlie! Ratings! Demographics! I want a raise this year! LM: I often wonder if Steve Roberts wouldn't want this job. BL: "The Man They Call Biscuit Boy"! Nah, he's too busy flopping on Tuesdays. LM: Requiem certainly hasn't flopped of late. He has a big match coming up at Birthday Bash with Deathbringer, but he surely isn't looking past Creed: [SCENE: The Cathedral Of Souls, the vast, dark, cavern illuminated by the flickering of thousands of white candles. Zoom in on the centre of the cavern, where, upon a black plinth, lies the night black electric guitar of Requiem. Incongruously, next to the plinth is a 42" television and a bank of video cassette recorders. Sitting in a black leather chair several feet away is Requiem, dressed in a simple white robe with a small black guitar motif outlined in flame upon the left breast, who seems deep in thought as he watches the television.] VOICE: What are you watching, brother? [Gabrielle enters the shot, wearing black T-shirt and jeans. On a chain around her neck she wears a silver ankh, which catches the candlelight and glimmers brightly] REQUIEM: I am watching this 'Creed' fight, Gabrielle. It is always best to know your enemy. GABRIELLE: It hardly seems worth it. He is evil, and you are The Requiem. You will destroy this evil, as you always have. What more needs be said? REQUIEM: Is he evil? I do not know yet, and nor do you, sister. I will know for certain when I enter the ring and stare into his soul. Not before. His actions and motives seem sometimes ... questionable, I will grant you, but not yet out and out evil. Does the Darkness consume his soul? I cannot tell yet. But I shall find out. Oh, yes - I shall find out. But one thing is for certain, sister. He is a great fighter. I fear this match will be hard for the both of us, Creed and I. I believe I shall win, but I think that victory will be no certainty. GABRIELLE: Perhaps the result would be more certain if you did not cling to this ridiculous sense of honour, brother. No other Requiem has maintained this foolish notion of 'honour', and nor should you. REQUIEM: Perhaps not, but I do. I follow the ancient ways of the true warrior, and they keep me to the path I follow. What manner of victory over the Darkness would it be if I must emulate the tactics of the damned to succeed? GABRIELLE: What kind of victory? Hopefully the decisive kind! You are a fool, brother! Your vaunted nobility will work against you. It is no shield, but rather a sword in the hands of your enemy. REQUIEM: Perhaps. Perhaps not. GABRIELLE: Perhaps not? Do you hear what they say about you, these men you would show mercy to? Do they appreciate your honour? Do they tell tales of your valour? Watch this, brother, and learn! [Gabrielle grabs a remote and changes to another VCR. IIWF Monday Musings flickers onto the screen, and Creed stares out of the TV screen] CREED: Hey, Gimmick! Hey, Gimmick! [Gabrielle hits the FF button] CREED: That leaves you, Gimmick. You and me got business I don't know about? Well - maybe you want to be my business. The offer on the table, Gimmick. You want the streak? You want the shot? You want what I got? You want some, Gimmick? [Gabrielle hits the freeze frame, leaving Creed's face frozen on screen. She points to him] GABRIELLE: Do you require me to translate that gibberish, Requiem? Or should I perhaps call you 'Gimmick'? Oh, yes - they appreciate your nobility, brother! REQUIEM: I keep to my honour for my own sake, Gabrielle. My honour is part of who I am, not a 'gimmick', nor something I can easily throw away, no matter how much you would have me do so. GABRIELLE: Oh? And will your honour enable you to defeat Creed? This man who shows you none of the respect due The Requiem? This man who calls you 'Gimmick'? REQUIEM: Gabrielle, I do not care for your tone. Are you now showing me the respect that you say I am due? You forget yourself, sister. Make no mistake, I *am* Requiem, and Creed will learn that. I _am_ the Outcast. I _am_ the Angel Of Destruction. I _am_ the Herald Of Damnation. Creed will learn just who and what he faces on Saturday. He shall learn the hard way, and I fear he will not like what he learns. Win or lose, Creed will find that Requiem is no 'gimmick'. GABRIELLE: Forgive me, brother, it is just that I worry for you. This IIWF seems a particularly lawless place, and I fe... REQUIEM [interrupting]: You need have no fear for me, Gabrielle. I am, after all, Requiem. The power of The Music Of The Unknowingly Damned is within me, and by my side is my Choir, to lend me their strength should I have need of it. How can I lose when the power of a thousand souls is with me? And now, sister, it has been a long night. Leave me now, for I wish to be alone. [As Gabrielle leaves, Requiem strides over to the plinth and retrieves his prized guitar. Placing it over one shoulder he begins to play. The haunting melodies of The Music Of The Unknowingly Damned fills the cavern and echoes throughout all the chambers within the Cathedral Of Souls. The frozen image of Creed still peers out of the television screen as the shot fades to black.] REQUIEM VO: Creed, on Saturday you shall learn. Pray that you do not learn too much. [Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ * IIWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH THE WHITE PHOENIX vs DIRT DOG UNIQUE ALLAH ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LM: Talk about a contrast in styles. No one can be quite sure what to expect in this match. BL: "The Dirty Doggy They Call Allah" has been overlooked by a lot of people lately. He slowly climbed his way up the IIWF ladder, which meant he was either gonna clean Spreadbury's windows or get a title shot. Looks like he got the ladder... er, latter. LM: And while Shinja Chow will be one of the toughest opponents Allah has faced, it's clear that the Dirt Dog is looking for respect. He'd surely gain that by winning the IIWF Cruiserweight Championship tomorrow night: [SCENE: Dirt Dog Unique Allah tries on a gold belt. He stares at himself in a mirror. Medusa sits beside him, nodding admiringly.] MR: I like the look. Take that belt from Shinja Chow, Unique and all your dreams will come true. UA: Medusa, I don't got dreams no more. Not since Shakeemah done walked out on me. What I got me is some nasty needs. I got some urges. Powerful urges. And they ain't just to say hello to your pretty little kitty. No, it's more than that. I'm tired of people just thinkin' I'm a clown around here. You know what I'm sayin' just because I goff around on the set and say what not this that and the third. I gots to be the most misunderstood wrassler in the game. And that's sayin' somethin' when I got this Hakushi, Jackie Chan wannabe standin' in the ring next to me. That's sayin' somethin' real. MR: But Unique if they misunderstand you then they can't prepare for you. UA: I don't care. I just want a little attention. I just want somebody to say 'Doggy, I really know you!' MR: Doggy, I really know you! UA: Aw, 'dusa. That's sweet. [Sniffing and wiping his eye.] You make me want to cry and such. Girl, I like you a lot better than that other one that burnt me with the clap. Yeah, that wife of mine. She just didn't have your class. And you knows I'm a classy man. Yeah! Shinja Chow, you're gonna feel the bite of the Doggy! MR: I think that's trademarked. UA: Oh, Shinja Chow, prepare to be the snake in the eagle's shadow! Yeah! Go watch that flick! Yeah! [Fade. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ * IIWF UNITED STATES TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH THE HARLEQUINS vs. PROPHETS OF RAGE ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LM: When you look at the executive ruling barring managers and valets from ringside in IIWF tag team matches, I don't think any teams are more affected than The Harlequins and the Prophets of Rage. BL: I think the Harlequins have a legitimate beef. Comedy keeps the kiddies entertained at ringside, while Melody keeps the big kiddie Chaos entertained and restrained. LM: The fact that you know The Harlequins wouldn't have anything to do with your assessment, would it? If Pizzazz and Medusa Rage cannot be at ringside, then it's only fair that The Harlequin ladies stay away, also. BL: "The Looney They Call Chaos" would bite off your little toe if he heard you say that. [Becky makes a biting motion, which makes Larry shirk.] LM: He... he wouldn't! BL: Mmmmmm... little toe... tastes just like chicken. LM: Stop it! Let's check in with The Prophets of Rage as they prepare for this big title matchup: [SCENE: Shadoe Rage lunges at the camera, slapping it so the screen shakes. He steps back, glaring into the screen and glowering.] SR: Harlequins, one-on-one, it's just us. You hear me? It's just us. No Pizzazz, no Medusa, no Comedy and Melody. How's that gonna affect ya? Chaos, you got to be on your best behaviour. The president says you need Melody because of a certain medical condition. [laughs] I know all about that. You need that soothing gentle female touch to drain away that rage that's flaming inside of you. Chaos, I know that place. I know exactly where it is you live. I know. The world's all red and there's nothing but thunder in the air, cracking and screaming. And you realize that's nothing but the sound of your own body eating itself. See, Chaos, you're just a big boy in a man's game. You don't know what it's all about. You haven't learned to feed off that madness inside you. Well, now you've met your lightning rod. The Angel of Death. When we get in that ring, there's gonna be an explosion. I promise you. The Rage meets the Chaos. Who's gonna burn out first? I promise you. With my every last breath I promise you it won't be us. You did something very stupid when you jumped us at Ring Wars III. You messed with the winningest tag-team in the entire IIWF. Now your reign is going to be cut short. You'll collapse like a puppet with its strings slashed. [Derek Rage takes the camera and turns it to himself.] DR: They say payback's a muhfuh. Well, you got two muhfuhs right here. Two muhfuhs who got a bone to pick with you crazy clowns. That's not good for you. It's like the lions getting loose at the circus. I'm gonna be picking you outta my teeth for days. Chaos, boy, you're messing around in a grown man' game. You're dealing with veterans. Fully grown men in control of their faculties. I'm willing to bet that you won't be ready for that onslaught. Not without your little Melody at your side. You know. When this is done and you're just a broken heap, crawling off in the corner to do who knows what with a flashlight and a dirty magazine, I might just pay Melody a visit. I might just convince her that she needs to get you out of her system, cradle robber that she is, and find herself a real man. If she even knows what that is hangin' round you two. Hell, I might even have to degrade myself and show her what it's all about personally. SR: Don't let yourself be defiled! That's just evil! DR: True. But Harlequins. Know one thing. When we meet and it's all on the line. Somebody's gotta get hurt. Somebody's gotta bleed. And it ain't gonna be us. Hell no it won't. See you, stars. [Derek mimes shooting his finger at the camera.] SR: Fade to black. [Sure enough -- fade to black. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ * DUNCAN MACBETH vs. OTTO "THE BUTCHER" VERHOEVEN ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LM: Duncan Macbeth is eager to prove himself in the IIWF and nothing would do that like a victory over former IIWF World Heavyweight Champion Otto Verhoeven. BL: More importantly, "Th' M'n Th' Ca' M'c'bth"... hey MacBean, buy a vowel... needs to impress Derek Mota and Ike Sampson, both of whom will probably be watching this match carefully. LM: Indeed. Duncan Macbeth is scheduled to meet Mota and Sampson in a triangle match at Birthday Bash, but Otto Verhoeven is first up. Let's check in with the young Scotsman: [SCENE: A dimly-lit room inside the old Macbeth house outside the small town of Glenfinnan. It is very late at night, and Duncan Macbeth is pacing around the room carrying a small oil lamp, its flickering light glittering off the many old relics mounted on the walls. Swords, shields and paintings of long dead ancestors give way to rifles, helmets and framed black-and white photographs of ancestors not so long deceased, and Macbeth takes the time to regard each memento with a somber air. His green eyes sparkle in the glow of the lamp, and as he turns to face the camera, half of his face is eerily cast in stark shadow.] DM: Y'know, we Macbeths have been fightin' battles since th' beginnin' o' time, it seems. Yuir man Shakespeare made us famous, but we'd been known fer bein' warlike centuries b'fore he e'er put pen t' paper. An' there's been a couple o' times in th' past when we've heard th' words "German superiority" bandied about. Well, me more recent ancestors took issue wi' tha', an' they dealt wi' th' matter in th' way Macbeths are known fer. 'T'was a difficult, frightenin' task, but they were nae afraid, 'cause they had heart, faith, an' skill, an' in th' end, they came back t' tell their stories t' their grandchildren. [Macbeth sets the lamp down on the mantle of the room's huge fireplace, beside a family photograph of what appears to be several generations of Macbeth men - two old gentlemen, one appearing to be in his eighties, a younger, massively-built adult with curly red hair and beard, and a small boy with shoulder-length ruddy-blond hair. Macbeth regards the photo for a moment, then turns back to the camera.] 'T'is true tha' th' more things change, th' more they stay th' same. Here I am, just arrived in th' IIWF, an' I'm hearin' those words, "German superiority" bein' bandied about ag'in. Verhoeven, I take issue wi' tha', an' I'm goin' t' deal wi' th' matter, in th' way Macbeths are known fer! Ye're known 'round 'ere as a vicious, brutal hoodlum who likes t' put th' fear o' God in t' people wi' yuir back- alley tactics. Well, let me tell ye somethin', I was BORN in th' back alley! I'm no' afraid o' ye, du kleine Mann, an' try as ye might, ye cannae MAKE me afraid o' ye, 'cause I can do all tha' ye can, an' more - I can WRESTLE! "German superiority"?! BOLLOCKS! Heart... faith... an' above all, SKILL... will ALWAYS be more than a match fer brute force! 'T'was proven time an' ag'in in th' past, an' tomorrow nigh', ye Teutonic tosser, wi' all o' th' IIWF watchin' - Mota, Byron, James, all o' yis, mark me - I'm goin' t' prove it AG'IN! [Fade. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] BL: That guy gives me a headache. LM: Now _that_ would be a rarity! Hehe, score one for the L'il Mortonistas... ow, ow! BL: Speaking of superiority, Otto certainly has proven his during his IIWF tenure. "The Homeboy They Call Tony Starks" is asking for trouble messing with the Teutonic Terror, and so is Duncan McDonuts: [SCENE: Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven is sitting in a small bar in Portland. It is the "Ruhrgebiet", a meeting point for Americans of German origin or German travellers. Verhoeven, like most of the other customers, wears a neon-yellow soccer jersey. He holds a bottle of schnapps in his right hand and is singing some German song.] OV: So ein Tag, so wunderschoen wie heute, so ein Tag, der... [he abruptly stops when notices the camera.] Ah, you find your victims anywhere, eh? Perhaps you American inbreds with no idea what real sport is wonder what we are celebrating here. [He proudly points to his jersey, grinning broadly.] My favorite soccer team, Borussia Dortmund, defeated those arrogant, clumsy, vastly overrated fools from Manchester United to enter the finals of the Champions League. [In the background, the other drunken customers begin to clap their hands to yet another victory chant.] They will prove that German athletes can best any challenge and overcome all odds. But I guess that you are not interested in more details about that historic discipline. You want me to say some things about Duncan Macbeth, how I will crush him beneath my boot heel, how the Slaughterslam will end his young career, how I will spit on his broken and bloody body after that match. [He shakes his head and takes a swig at the bottle.] But that's not what I will do. Quigley or Starks or some other arrogant American who thinks he is god's gift to wrestling. I saw Dross visiting him on Tuesday and I sat down in front of the television and listened to what he said. Actually, I had to watch it five times because his English is worse than that of my beloved Heidi. But, anyway, he seems to be a reasonable, good-hearted man, who is willing to work hard for his success and has respect for the sport itself, not just for the money or the fame. I like that and I think he has a lot of potential, like Creed. But, on Saturday, when he will have to face me, he is in for a severe beating. Pay attention, Scotsman, it will be a valuable, but painful, wrestling lesson. You will learn to endure pain, learn what it means to confront the German Juggernaut! Oh, and let's not forget a final, dire warning to Derek Mota, Tony Starks or whoever else should dare to show up. This will be a nice, fair little match between Macbeth and me, and punishment for interference will be swift and hard. [The crowd in the bar starts a "But-cher! But-cher!" chant.] Hey, perhaps I should call these guys Teutonics and bring them down to ringside to help me... [he turns to his back on the camera to face the customers] WELCOME TO THE... [Fade to black as they start to chant "SLAUGH-TER-HOUSE! SLAUGH-TER- HOUSE!" Fade. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ * HIGHWAYMAN vs. CHRIS HERFORTH ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LM: Cheshire... I mean, Chris Herforth has experience difficult times during the last two months. He endured a feud with Nightwing in which his mentor Dr. Hinterhalt was kidnapped; he was tarred and feathered by the Harlequins at Ring Wars III; then he returned to find that his father had sold the circus which held the rights to the Cheshire name. BL: Too bad for "The Man They Call... Whatever the Hell They Call Him." LM: His name is Chris Herforth, and he's fighting mad: [SCENE: Doctor Hinterhalt's high-tech gym. The walls are papered with posters and photos of the Highwayman, Nightwing and the Harlequins in various match situations with various opponents. Chris Herforth, wearing indigo track suit trousers, is lying on a bench lifting weights. Sweat runs down his face and and he is panting heavily. Doctor Hinterhalt, wearing a white lab coat, as usual, is sitting on a stool beside him and scribbles some notes onto his clipboard.] DH: Achtundneunzig... neunundneunzig... einhundert. Very good. CH: [panting] More... DH: I have to advise you against this. You would only waste your energies and run the risk of seriously injuring yourself. CH: [still lifting the weights] Get me a photo of that Highwaymoron. DH: [hesitating] I do not know.... CH: [barking] Go and get it! [Hinterhalt puts the clipboard to the floor and walks over to a wall to take one of the pictures. Then he walks back to Herforth and shows it to him. Herforth's face wrinkles with anger and he brings both dumb-bells up and slams them together, Hinterhalt's hand, which holds the photo, stuck right between them. The Doctor yells out and draws back his hand, which luckily remains unharmed. The photo falls onto Herforth's chest, but he doesn't notice. He just goes on to lift the weights and slam them together each time.] DH: [rubbing his hand] I would really appreciate if you would stop to constantly risk my health for your hirnrissigen ideas! I can understand your hatred for the Highwayman, but it would be wise, if you would save your anger for breaking _his_ bones. CH: [panting and still lifting the weights] Hundred and twenty-two. Autobahnmann will go down tomorrow, Doctor, believe me. Hundred and twenty-three. This time there will be no Nightwimp to save him from my wrath. Hundred and twenty-four. There will be no place for him to hide, nowhere to run. Hundred and twenty-five. [He puts down the weights and takes the photo from his chest to walk over to a martial arts dummy called "wooden man". He sticks the photo onto its front, and starts striking the wood with karate punches, slowly at first, but becoming faster with every strike.] DH: [reading the figures on a monitor that is connected to the wooden man] This is remarkable. You increased your speed by 0.48 strikes per second, improving your personal record to 3.84. CH: Yeah... The constant sight... of those imbeciles really motivates me. [He becomes even a bit faster and Hinterhalt raises his brows. Herforth stops with one last, powerful strike and takes a towel to dry his face. Then he turns to the camera, his ice-blue eyes glowing with anger and determination.] Autobahnmann, I hope you watched closely, because tomorrow _you_ will be the dummy, and when I'm through with you, you'll wish to be back in your grave. [Fade. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] LM: If anyone knows Cheshire's fighting style, it may be Nightwing. BL: "The Brave They Call Squantoosho". LM: Huh? What's that mean? BL: Booger flicker. Hehe. LM: Well, I don't think there is a race or gender you haven't insulted tonight. BL: Just doing my job. LM: The point I was trying to make is that Highwayman has now formed a partnership with Nightwing, which may give him an advantage tomorrow night. It is an odd pairing, indeed, but these two have found some common ground: [SCENE: A hillside overlooking a small town. As the sun sets low in the sky, it silhouettes a figure standing near the tree line, where the dense mountain forest meets the open hillside. The camera pans around to show Nightwing looking down at his former village. For the first time in weeks, his face appears peaceful. He speaks quietly.] NW: There is an old Cherokee saying: "Tuk no ondoso qui forchaka, mon chuqono qui forchaka". Translated, it roughly means that a man must understand the world around him to understand himself. Requiem, I owe you thanks for your guidance. The spirits called you the "chosen one" and you proved yourself a worthy guide. I do not know if you understand the concept of gratitude, but I hope to someday repay you. Harlequins... as ironic as it may sound, I am also thankful to you. It is true that you attacked me after the recent battle royal, but your words - even spoken with anger - rang true in my ears: "make peace with your spirits". [Nightwing looks up toward the sky where an eagle circles and he repeats himself in almost a whisper] Make peace with your spirits. Unfortunately for you, Harlequins, I have done that. [A figure slips from the darkness of the forest behind Nightwing, almost as if returning from a place far away... and another time. As the man approaches, it can be seen that it is Highwayman. Nightwing continues.] But there is one man above all whom the spirits have chosen for his wisdom and courage. Adam Smith spoke the truth two weeks ago when he challenged me to accept my birthright as the final Cherokee. He is a good man... a good friend... and I shall heed his advice well. [Highwayman stops beside Nightwing and places a hand on his shoulder.] HWM: Advice? My father always told me "you reap what you sow". You sowed the seeds of self-respect in a man that had none, you gave me the focus I needed to achieve my aspirations, you showed me that the past needn't die for me to live in the present. I am the student, not the teacher, but like the bountiful earth, I can offer you the fruits of _your_ labour, I can offer you the support and friendship you showed me. [Nightwing continues to stand with a peaceful expression, staring down at the town.] NW: This mountain has been my only home - the sun and the moon my parents. Perhaps those I once called "my people" will someday understand the glory that once was and could be again, but for now I must leave this place. There is a journey ahead and I am prepared to travel many roads to find the answers I seek. [An eagle cries in the distance] But Chiquoit cannot accompany me on this journey. I take only faith in my spirits... [he looks at Highwayman] ...and faith in my friend. [Nightwing nods toward Highwayman, whose brow furrows] HWM: The roads you travel are the haunts of the Highwayman my friend, I have travelled them many times before and know them all too well. Please allow me to be your guide, whilst I do not have the answers you seek, I can at least advise you on which path to tread. [The two men step back into the dark forest, seemingly disappearing into the blackness. Somewhere in the distance, an eagle cries. Fade. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ * COLD SPELL vs. RISING SUN REVOLUTION ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LM: Rising Sun Revolution have been gone for quite awhile, but they'll make their return to the IIWF Coliseum tomorrow night. BL: They might just find that the IIWF Tag Team scene has changed in the last two months. Teams like Night Patrol and Cold Spell are now challenging for the titles "The Revulsion" once held. LM: That's _Revolution_. And it's true that many strong teams have entered the IIWF recently, but RSR has returned with a different look and a different focus of their own. Steve Summer brings us the story: [SCENE: A large, empty gym. Two figures stand at the far side, the smaller of whom is roundhouse kicking a pair of pads held up by the larger. The door to the gym opens, and the IIWF intern reporter Steve Summer walks in. The figures ignore him, and continue to train. Steve walks hesitantly over, and the figures can gradually be made out as Ryudo Kenjinata and Hiroshi Kaisai, the members of Rising Sun Revolution. A very different looking Ryudo and Hiroshi. Ryudo's hair, for instance, used to be long. Now he is sporting a cropped haircut. Hiroshi is sporting a goatee, and no longer looks the friendly giant he used to be. Both men look to be in much better shape than when they were last seen in the IIWF. Even Hiroshi, despite his size, looks to have barely a trace of fat on his body.] SS: Um. Guys? [Ryudo pauses for a second, and then hits the pads Hiroshi is holding with a fast punch combination. Jab - hook - half-uppercut - backfist - hook] SS: Ryudo? [Ryudo starts to speed up the combination slightly] RK: Be... [Ryudo continues to speed up the combination, hitting the pads each time hard. Hiroshi frowns slightly, and staggers backwards a step.] RK: Right... [Ryudo's fists become a blur, and Hiroshi lets off a yell, stepping backwards hurriedly. As he does so, Ryudo leaps up, spinning around to hit the pads with a leaping back kick that sends the big man crashing down to the floor.] RK: With you. SS: Whoa. [Ryudo holds his hand down, and helps Hiroshi up, before turning to face Summer. Hiroshi folds his arms and stands behind him. Ryudo's face looks weathered. The friendly smile he used to have is gone, replaced with a stern look.] RK: Well, you've found us. What did you want to ask? SS: Wow! You just like... sorry? What did you say? RK: What did you want to ask? SS: Well... I... you've vanished for the last few months. We've been wondering where you've been. RK: [shrugging] A fair question. We needed to take a break. To gather ourselves, and find out where we wanted to go. A lot had happened to us in a short space of time, and after we lost the titles, our world seemed to fall apart. At one point, we were the proudest team in the federation: On top of the world, and with an unrivalled record. Of course, we knew it couldn't last, but the events that followed it shattered us. [Ryudo pauses, and rubs his chin, looking away] First there was the Alphabet Boys. [Ryudo smiles for a brief second] They meant well, and I suppose it was flattering in a way, but it didn't exactly work out for either of us. But they were the least of our problems. It seemed as though our title reign had managed to get between our friendship with Domination, a team that we'd worked with, respected, and admired for a long time. But success can often do that. We're still not happy at the way we responded to this. And we should have been there when Mr. Psycho needed us. But, as a result, we had lost practically everything that meant anything to us. The titles, our friends, our pride... and when we lost the respect of the fans, we lost our self belief, and found ourselves stuck in a rut that it seemed we'd be in forever. SS: So... you just upped and left? RK: It wasn't like that. Maybe we didn't make too many friends with the booking committee, but we needed time to work out where we were going, and what we wanted to do. The ways things were, we were no use to anybody. I heard the words from Steve Roberts... has beens... dead weight... and maybe for a time, we were. We had depended so long on the fans to carry us through, that when we lost them, we lost it all. We had to find a way to survive without the fans' support. And that's exactly what we did. For the last two months, we've been training almost exclusively on our own. We've been in near isolation. And we've come to depend on one another all the more for it. And now, we don't need anyone else to carry us through. SS: Woah. That isn't the attitude of the Revolution I used to know. RK: Because we aren't the Revolution you used to know. We've been through too much for that now. We still have the same beliefs, the same ideals, but now, we have true self belief. We don't need anything else. And as of now, we're returning to the ring. Saturday Night, we make our return against the team known as Cold Spell. [Ryudo slowly nods his head] Edmund Fitzgerald and Icehawk. A team who have great potential here in the IIWF. And this is exactly the sort of team we could have hoped to come back against. Saturday Night, and what you will see is a tag team match. Not a brawl, but a true wrestling match. The way it was meant to be. The Revolution isn't over Steve, it's just beginning. Cold Spell: Good luck. We'll see you in the ring. [Both men turn away from the stunned Steve Summer. Hiroshi picks the pads back up, and Ryudo starts kicking again. Steve waits for a second, and when it's obvious he's not going to get any more, he walks away. Fade. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ * JOE PETROW vs. THE CELL ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LM: I suppose we can just tell everyone to expect the unexpected in this match. BL: Ain't that the truth! Cell is accompanied by the Osmond Family everywhere he goes, which ticks off the suits, and Joe Petrow has done everything but bring a flamethrower to the ring. LM: Petrow does seem to have his hands full with Steve Kowalski right now. It was just a week ago that "Sychosys" wrapped that plastic bag around Kowalski's face and attempted to suffocate him on national television. Those two will settle their differences at Birthday Bash, but Petrow had better focus on The Cell first: [SCENE: "Sychosys" Joe Petrow is standing outside a restaurant dumpster in downtown Portland. Petrow's scruffy beard and dirty clothes give him a certain "homeless" feel. In the background, the "Abdullah's" sign is vaguely recognizable] JP: You know, some people might think that my match on Saturday with The Cell is another example of the random, clueless, on-the-fly booking that goes on here in the IIWF. But this match means something to me, for reasons I'm not particularly proud of, or even understand too well, but reasons nonetheless. Two months ago, I too was approached by the man known as Oak. He said he could see into my troubled soul, said that he knew the way to my redemption, or some crap like that. I don't really know what happened next. The next thing I remember is lying here in this [points] dumpster in the middle of the night! Now I don't know how or why this happened, but I learned two things from that experience. One, even moldy cardboard tastes great with this joint's secret sauce! And two, there are some forces in the IIWF even stranger and more bizarre than me! Well Saturday Night, that all comes to an end! They're down to one subhuman now, and once I smash his brain with the ASSPUMP, they will be deprogrammed for GOOD! Things have been pretty heavy for me and my Sychopaths lately, but Saturday Night, we gonna get back to our roots and have fun, SYCHO STYLE! [Joe turns to climb into the dumpster, muttering "Now where's that big hunka cardboard I saw earlier?" Fade. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] ************************************************************************** --------------------------- IIWF TRASH TALK ---------------------------- ************************************************************************** LM: Joe Petrow will indeed have his hands full with Steve "The Fury" Kowalski at Birthday Bash -- provided both of them make it that far. SK: "The Fury They Call Nightmare" made his feelings for Petrow _and_ the L'il Sychopaths known Wednesday night. But he also mentioned "The Fire Hazard They Call White Phoenix", who holds the Cruiserweight title Kowalski covets. "The Nightmare" is a busy man right now: [SCENE: Random film clips of 'Fury' fans turning over cars, attacking 'Sychosys' fans and general rioting is shown. The scene next shows Steve Kowalski laying out Joe Petrow with the gauntlet and SKULLPUMPING the White Phoenix to the canvass, soon merging with a clip of Kowalski challenging both men at the previous Wednesday show. "Don't Fear the Reaper" starts up at the same time Kowalski is attacked by the White Phoenix and later Joe Petrow. The voice over, which sounds suspiciously like Steve Kowalski, speaks as we see Petrow being taken away and Kowalski tearing the plastic bag off his head.] VO: Men like the White Phoenix speak as if they had honor... but they rarely do. How could a man of such supposed moral fiber attack another while he can't defend himself? The New Jersey Nightmare was clearly engaged with Lord Byron. How is it that up front men like Kowalski get fined for the same action, while cowards like White Phoenix are above the law? This is where _real_ men stand up and take things into their own hands. Saturday night May 3rd... the night White Phoenix learns to walk like a man... and gets _beat_ like a dog! [Scene cuts to Kowalski getting a hammer from one of his fans.] VO: With friends like these, can the IIWF Heat Machine be stopped? The bond between Kowalski and his maniacal fans his deeply rooted in a mutual need to hurt others. The bond between Joe Petrow and _his_ fans is a need to stand out...to be different. The desire for attention has put Petrow in a very dangerous spot. The mass riots outside the ring, the dangerous objects being hurled into the ring... the rampaging "Fury" at the center of the ring! [Fade. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] LM: Another rivalry that appears ready to break wide open is that between Otto Verhoeven and Tony Starks. Many felt that Starks should have left the Coliseum with the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship last weekend. BL: Shoulda, coulda, woulda. "The Fool They Call Starks" was stupid enough to put his name on a contract to meet Verhoeven in a German Death match at Birthday Bash, which may be the last mistake he ever makes: [SCENE: Brooklyn, New York, midnight. The streets are dimly lit except for a metal trash barrel that is on fire. Starks is standing around the fire, wearing his baggy Desert Storm fatigues. Many of his friends are around and they are just talking amongst themselves. The camera pans in close on Starks, the light from the flames casting more of a shadow on his face. The only thing that can be seen are his eyes, which shine with an icy intensity. TS: German Death Match? Good enough for me. Hey Superman, I am putting the Alliance on notice. So, you can tell the baker and the candlestick maker that you ain't going to be around after May 10th. That is damn sure. I took no pride in smacking your trick Heidi around. She just got to learn that you stay out of my business. Otto, let me tell you something, and you had better listen good, commit this to memory: I am going to beat a blue streak of lightning down your back, me and you in that match, we are going to get Old Testament. You are going to get your ass kicked to a degree you never thought possible. For real, Hell, Otto. Hell is up in here now. What the hell was Chris "Quick-to-be-shook" Quigley saying? Boy, you want to see what I am all about? You stay out of my way or you will be known as Chris "soon to be departed from this mortal existence" Quigley. You better think about your words before you invoke my name. 'Tony Starks can't stop me?' Go ahead and think that. Otto, I am coming for you, boy, and there ain't nothing you can do about it. Come on, you little Hulkamaniac, take them vitamins, work hard and it won't even matter if you say your prayers, 'cuz nothing can stop what I am going to do to you. [Starks just stares at the camera. Fade. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] LM: Many wrestlers are setting their sights on the IIWF Intercontinental Championship currently held by Lord Byron. You can add Steve Kowalski to the list after "The Fury" literally "hammered" Byron. BL: And you can bet that "The Lord They Call Byron" hasn't forgotten that little shot. Timmy Dross took another one of his expensive trips to New Orleans -- my hometown I might add -- to get Byron's reaction: [SCENE: The study of Lord Byron's Louisiana home. Byron is standing at the window, looking outside. The Lady DeWinter is sitting at the desk, leaning on her hands and watching him. The door opens, and IIWF senior reporter Tim Dross walks in. Byron's back is to the camera, but you can just tell that he is sneering.] LB: Well, Mr. Dross. Welcome once again to my humble home. TD: Byron. [Byron turns around, revealing a large plaster across his forehead, where he had been struck by Steve Kowalski. Byron notices Tim's stare, and smirks, rubbing his chin ruefully and tapping his cane against his leg] LB: All's fair in love and war, Mr. Dross. I dare say the man was simply trying to beat me to the punch, as it were. But do I mind? [Byron sneers] Of course I mind! The man hit me with a hammer, for God's sake! I thought the officials were there to prevent this sort of thing! [Byron smirks] Still, it's the result that matters. DeW: He could have scarred you for life! He could have killed you! LB: Risks, Milady, risks that come with the turf. "Those who surpass or subdue mankind, look down on the hate of those below." Remember? TD: Byron? LB: Correct. [Byron smirks] And what an interesting little quote that is. Its truth is its simple beauty. [Byron motions across to the IIWF Intercontinental Title and the ESWP European Title, laying folded on the desk in front of the Lady DeWinter] LB: Here I stand, at the pinnacle of this sport which we call professional wrestling, surrounded by the hate of those who would be me. Frankly, Mr. Dross, I've been subduing other members of the human race since I was born, and I couldn't give a damn if they hate me for it or not. TD: Certainly, the challenges to your title have been flying in... the Highwayman, Brody Thunder, Stoneheart from the ESWP was keeping a careful eye on you on Saturday night... LB: I understand so. I hope the man saw everything he wanted to. He may feel that I owe him after the events of What the World is Watching Three, but if so, he can think again. If he has something to say, he knows where he can find me. But this is not what I wanted to talk about. TD: No? LB: What I wanted to talk about is the man known as Creed. [Byron smirks] The man who is currently rated as the number one contender to my title. The man who is on a very impressive unbeaten run at the moment. DeW: [looking up lazily] The man who has beaten you once already. [Byron raises an eyebrow and smirks, walking over to the table and picking up the I.C. title, putting it across his shoulder] LB: Thank you for pointing that out Milady. What happened then... was then, and was regrettable. Fortunately now, I am free of such unbecoming distractions. I will be keeping a very close eye on our friend's progress. Mr. Creed, I remember a few of your manager's words for me only three months ago: 'You have proved yourself everywhere, except for where it counts!' [Byron sneers, and pats the title] Maybe he has different opinions now, don't you think? But what I can guarantee, Mr. Creed is that should you survive with your title shot until Birthday Bash, you will be facing a very different man from the one you defeated those short few months ago. This time, you will be facing a man at the peak of his game. Free of distractions. A man who knows that this time around, there is a lot more at stake than simple pride. [Byron sneers] Good luck Creed, and remember: I'll be watching. [Byron looks across to Dross] LB: Your time's up, Mr. Dross. I'll be seeing you soon. Ciao. [Dross leaves the room, and Byron hands the title to DeWinter, before turning back to the window. Fade. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] LM: If Creed survives unbeaten until Birthday Bash, he'll get the title shot against Lord Byron, and what a match that will be. BL: Byron is no rookie. He knows how to handle the "pups" of the IIWF. LM: Nor is Deathbringer a rookie, but he's facing one of the toughest challenges of his career at Birthday Bash. I'm speaking, of course, about Requiem. No one is quite sure about the relationship between these two, so we sent an expendable camera crew out to get some comments from Deathbringer: [SCENE: Somewhere in a dark forest. The dead and twisted remains of old trees are spread across the location. The moon can be seen, but it barely lightens up the area. An old path leads through the forest, but it is covered with brown leaves and thus almost invisible. The camera slowly moves along this path picking up the sounds of wolves which seem to hide somewhere behind the trees. The camera moves on and reaches an old, rusty gate, seeming to be the entrance to a graveyard. A sign has been fixed to the gate and the gothic letters on it read: "You are about to pass the last barrier to the Dark Side... Stay a while... STAY FOREVER...". Suddenly the gates open by themselves and the camera enters the graveyard. After a few steps a loud metallic sound is heard, and as the camera moves around, the gate has been closed again. The camera turns around again and moves deeper into the cemetery, passing dozens of graves, tombstone and crypts on its way, always following a path which leads towards a large, stone-built hall. All of a sudden a bell tolls and something catches the camera's attention. It moves to the right where a hand reaches out of the ground. Within a few seconds a creature emerges from its grave, covered with dirt, but obviously wearing a cowl. As it looks towards the camera, a pair of two piercing red eyes becomes visible, and it becomes clear that this creature is none other than Deathbringer. He steps onto the path which leads down to the mortuary. His voice sounds colder than ever.] DB: So you have returned, mortals... Well... It was about time. [Deathbringer takes a step towards the camera and continues] What is my relationship with Requiem? That is the question that burns within your mind, is it not? Now I could answer this question just as well as the Angel of Destruction could, but the answer is of no real importance. Not for me, not for him, and not for you, mortals. Requiem once said that the both of us are the two sides of the same coin. Now one could wonder why we, despite that fact, will fight against each other at Birthday Bash. And one other could answer that this fact is the best reason itself. But it is the worst. [Deathbringer takes a few steps from the left to the right and back] Two sides of the same coin. What is it that the coin symbolizes? And is it just a symbol, or even more? I will not answer that question, but I will tell you why my battle with Requiem at Birthday Bash will be a loss for the both of us. When two rivals fight against each other, one will become the victor and the other one will be eradicated from the earth's face. But it is not that easy with Requiem and me. We are the two sides of the same coin. When you destroy one side of the coin, doesn't the winning side still have an opposite side? Yes it has. And is it different from the original opposite side? No, it is not. So what can we win by fighting each other? The two sides just get closer to each other. And with each new war they again get closer and closer and closer... [The camera quickly zooms in to Deathbringer's piercing red eyes] ...until... the coin has become so thin, that the removal of one side destroys the whole coin... and thus the universe. [Pause, as the camera zooms out again] How thick is our coin, Requiem? How many battles have taken place, how many times did someone cut a piece off the coin? Will our confrontation be the first... or will it be the last? Will it destroy this world... or will it just be an other step that leads to its destruction? One way or another, I do not care about the outcome... as I am the beginning and the end. You might be the Angel of Destruction, but I am the King of Chaos and I am leading the fools to the gates of Hades. At Birthday Bash I could very well have the privilege to lead the two of us right down to hell. [Deathbringer again takes a few steps from the left to the right, where he stops] So you see that there never was a reason for the two of us to fight against each other. And I never wanted to fight you. But now you even add fuel to the fire as you want to find out who the real Master of Darkness is. And though everyone already _knows_ who the real Master of Darkness is, you still want to confront him, ignoring the things that might follow because of that battle. Even more interesting is, that only I put something on the line. I risk to lose the title Master Of Darkness to you, but the only thing _you_ can lose is the guitar of yours. Now I know what this instrument means to you, but Requiem, how about raising the stakes? How about putting your own _soul_ on the line? [Deathbringer lowers his head and speaks on] But whether you do it or not, we _will_ meet at Birthday Bash. And though I still do not understand the reasons for you to mistrust me, I will give you another opportunity to learn about my real being. Maybe you then will understand what it really is that makes us equal... or at least _very_ similar. It is the same thing that makes us different from the mortals and I really hope that you learn about it soon. Otherwise... [Deathbringer raises his head fast as lightning and the camera zooms in to his piercing red-eyes] ...I will forget about the coin... and I will show you the real face of Black Death. [Deathbringer's piercing-red eyes fade to black as he speaks the last sentence. He then begins to laugh in his diabolic way. Fade. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] LM: Two sides of the same coin... I don't get it. BL: Duh! Ike Sampson is a lot easier to figure out. He speaks his mind in plain English, which is more than I can say for "Th' m''n t'h'e'y' c'll d'n mc'bf". LM: You're not the only one who has ill words for Duncan Macbeth, Becky. Ike Sampson clearly has his sights set on the young Scot: [SCENE: Ike Sampson is standing out by the ticket window at the IIWF Coliseum. A sign reading "SOLD OUT -- AGAIN" is prominently displayed. Sampson turns around to look at the sign, and shakes his head in disgust.] IKE: They woulda sold those tickets a helluva lot quicker if the Big Dog had been on the card. Millions of fans around the world can't be wrong... Ike Sampson's the future. I'm here to say one thing: Macbeth, you shoulda kept your mouth closed. You had a chance to bow out gracefully, after that ass- whipping I laid on you a few weeks back, but you had to go and open your mouth: "excess baggage." Big mistake. See, because now you're on my list. And it's not a list you wanna be on. So, maybe, just maybe, I'll be around tomorrow night. And maybe, just maybe, we'll... "bump" into each other. And if we do... we'll have words. There's some issues we need to discuss. "Extra baggage." You better get your head outta your skirt, MacBean. I'll be looking for ya.... [Ike turns and goes inside the Coliseum as the shot fades. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] LM: When there is action in the IIWF -- which is always -- you can bet the members of the Syndicate are not far away. BL: There's been some rumbling about an unhappy cowboy in the Syndicate lately. Personally, I keep _my_ big cowboy happy. LM: Enough about that. We sent Steve Roberts to the Dojo to get the lowdown on Brody Thunder and the rest of the Syndicate: [SCENE: Steve Roberts once again stands beside the members of the Syndicate in the main training area of the Dojo.] SR: Brian, I just want to thank you for putting in the request for me to do this interview. BL: Steve, you're the only American journalist I can even remotely respect. After the last one you did with us, how could I leave the duties to anyone else? SR: Hehe. Who's got the biscuits? BL: You got the biscuits. SR: Yeah, baby. Okay... On to business. Tiger Claw fought and won against Ike Sampson on Wednesday. Any thoughts? BL: Sure. I think we can't lose. TC: That's right. I destroyed the rookie in the middle of the ring. I don't care what the official decision was. I came out on top, and nobody can stand in my way. I'm about to recapture glory in the IIWF, but there's some people standing in my way to becoming top contender for a title. First on that list is the Subway Psycho. We will meet at the Birthday Bash, and I am looking forward to it. I want to express my excitement over the fact that the Psycho has accepted my terms. Even better, he wants the match to have no rules. Two men enter, one leaves on his own feet. Winner by knockout. I like it. SR: Are we gonna see blood, Claw? TC: More than even you can handle, Roberts. SR: That's a lot of blood. What are you going to do, kill him? Okay, now onto the rightful tag champs, The Disciples. Don, what are we seeing here? DM: What we're seeing here is a concerted effort on the part of the championship committee to keep my boys down! Everybody knows the Dark Disciples were, are and always will be the most dominant force in tag team wrestling. You know it, I know it, the wrestlers know it, and most importantly the championship committee knows it! Those pencil- necked suits are trying to hold the Dark Disciples back 'cause they don't want one team holding a monopoly on the belts. All that political stuff is Bull[BLEEP]! I'm warning the championship committee right now, we'd better have another shot at the belts soon, because if you make Kane and Wulf wait they get angry, and when they get angry... they DESTROY! KANE: The so-called powers that be in the IIWF are aligning against us. They toy with us, and they somehow expect to escape our wrath. Let me assure everybody that we have no patience for such petty paper- pushing and politics. Let me assure everybody that we will be toyed with no longer. The Dark Disciples have been patient for too long! When we want something, we simply take it; and anybody that stands in the way of that shall be dealt with on our own wicked terms. What are those terms you ask? Do you really want to know? [evil cackle] BL: It will only be a matter of time before the tag titles are back in the Syndicate. I have an announcement to make on Saturday Night regarding that very topic. SR: You hear that, you morons in TV land? Brian's got some words for you on Saturday. Listen. Okay, now there's something I wanted to ask Mr. Thunder here. My so called "colleague" Tim Dross has been starting rumors that you're unhappy with your world title position, and that leads to you being unhappy in the Syndicate. Now I know it's not true, but I wanted to hear it from the Lone Wolf's mouth. [Thunder begins to speak, but is cut off by Brian.] BL: There is no problem whatsoever. Brody wants title shots, yes, but there are many other titles in the IIWF than the world title. The world title is already held by the Syndicate, and to have a match between Thunder and James would be, well, redundant. Dross has no idea what he's talking about. BT: I gonna have me some gold comin' my way soon. It's jus' a matter o' timin' that's all. IC title... world title... don't much matter which. CJ: See, Steve..you just heard from the big man himself. That IC title isn't safe right now. As soon as he gets his shot that belts coming to the Syndicate. BT: Y'know I wouldn't mind a shot at that strap o' y... BL: And you'll get that shot at that IC title soon enough. I'm already working on it. BT: Yeah well, why don't ya let Casey and me... CJ: Sure, I'll help you prepare for the IC title... I know how much you want it. [Thunder steps a bit closer to Casey.] BT: What I want... is to find out why yer avoidin' a.... CJ: Hey I ain't "avoiding" anything. I'm the IIWF World champion. BT: ...uh-huh. CJ: And when you take that IC belt we'll all be champions, right, pal? [Casey and Thunder lock stares. Thunder rubs his chin as if in thought and then chuckles in agreement, almost under his breath.] BT: Yeah... right. [Thunder steps back to his original position, folding his arms across his chest and smiling, as he looks at Casey.] SR: Guys, guys... Let's change the subject, okay? Casey, you've got a title defense against Chris Kick-Me at the Bash. Now we saw on Wednesday that you aren't some one-trick pony, but I hear there was a message in that finisher. Care to explain? CJ: Alright, it's simple. I used a Texas Cloverleaf. What is that? Think about it. It's a scorpion deathlock applied with the arms. What's the scorpion deathlock? The real name for the Quickstriker. I told everyone time and time again that I outpowered Quigley, and that my arms were more powerful than his legs. Well, I proved it by locking on his finisher using my arms. I got the submission, but it was too easy. I want to hear Quigley quit for me. Quigley, maybe I'm not the technical genius that you claim to be, but I do know a thing or two about that pansy wrestling you specialize in. You don't have the balls to stand toe to toe with someone, so you figure out a way to trip them up and hope they hit their head on the floor. Me? I'd rather just smack the taste from your mouth. It's quicker, and a hell of a lot more fun, but if you want to go the round about way, then so be it. I hear you telling folks that I don't know you. I know you all too well, Chris. Now you're becoming the badass, huh? I knew you would. You figure it'll give you the extra edge you need to win the title. Chris, give it up. You're not a badass. I am, and I'll show you the real deal at the Birthday Bash, and I'm not talking about Luke Steele. I know exactly what you are and what you'll do. How do I know? I just have to watch that wrestler from Calgary you model yourself after. SR: Hey... A shoot interview. Are you hardcore? CJ: Hard like diamond. SR: Table shots? CJ: Nahhh... SR: Okay... Well, that seems to be all we've got for today. One last thing, though. Dross, I told you that you were wrong. You should be ashamed of yourself for spreading those rumors. Get some journalistic integrity, Carpet Head. Anyway, folks, until next time, this is Steve Roberts saying "Get Bent." [As the shot fades, Brian is heard saying "You know, that almost sounded like Kenny Tanaka," and Roberts saying "Ewwwww." Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] LM: Few youngsters have jumped into the IIWF with such youthful ignorance... BL: That's _arrogance_, Larry. Can't you read the lines? LM: Sorry. Such youthful arrogance as Derek Mota. This youngster seems intent on making a name for himself as quickly as possibly. I visited Mota in his Toronto apartment earlier this week: [SCENE: Cut to footage subtitled "EARLIER THIS WEEK". Larry Morton is in Toronto, the home of Derek Mota. Morton is in the elevator of a high rise building, going up to the 10th floor.] LM: We're making our way to the home of Derek Mota right now. It's... certainly not the most luxurious place I've ever seen, but I guess it's a place to live. Who knows? Derek Mota lives here. Maybe we'll see other stars here. [Morton emerges from the elevator and sees an old lady getting into the elevator.] LM: Hey, look! It's Cindy Crawford! Anyways ... [Larry Morton finds Apartment 1014 and knocks on the door. A series of bolts begin unlatching, and eventually Derek Mota opens the door, letting Morton in. Mota's apartment is actually quite spacious, although very simple. A big screen TV and a large entertainment center line up on one wall, with a small beat up couch facing it. The walls look beat up, needing painting, and they are bare.] DM: Hey, I thought Summer was supposed to show up? LM: Summer, yeah, he was... uh... busy. So they sent me. DM: Okay. Whatever. So what do you have ta say? LM: I was wondering what is in the mind of Derek Mota? [Derek is looking out his window. You can see the CN Tower and Skydome from here, but they are quite far away.] DM: You want to know what's on the mind of the golden boy of the IIWF, huh? Well, it's easy. I ain't no golden boy. I have no idea what Ike Sampson was thinkin' when he called me that. One thing that I am is a hard worker. I ain't at home watchin' my tape of the Grammy Awards fifty thousand times, I'm fightin' in Portland, I'm fightin' anywhere I can. I work my butt off and the IIWF recognizes that. So I get some matches. So Sampson, you can sit at home, watchin' Toni Braxton all ya want, but while you were drooling all over your TV, I was fighting Requiem, I was fighting the Hangman, and I was flinging fists with guys like Brody Thunder and Joe Petrow at the Battle Royal. I can guarantee you one thing: you're gonna have ta pick it up if you wanna ride with Derek Mota. The bandwagon's just gettin' ready to take off, and you can jump on now while you still have the chance. LM: What about Duncan Macbeth? What are your plans with this promising superstar? DM: Macbeth, I don't forget easily. I can read the schedule. I know you're fightin' big Otto on Saturday. I'll be there, you can count on that. LM: Okay, thanks for your time Derek. I guess we'll see you tomorrow night! DM: Yeah, you can count on that. [Fade. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] LM: Cards and letters continue to pour into the IIWF offices for the Armed Forces, who were on the receiving end of a heinous attack by the High Plains Drifters last Saturday. BL: Both of those teams want to be the first to the coveted 20-win mark and it had the Drifters spittin' mad last Saturday. LM: We know Kessler's Whiskey can peel the paint off walls, but it apparently is meant for internal use only. When an opponent spits it in your eyes... BL: You find out why they call it "redeye". Hehe. LM: I spoke with NavCom earlier today and received an update on DefCon: [SCENE: The IIWF Interview Area. NavCom of the Armed Forces, is joined by Larry Morton.] LM: NavCom, just a week ago your partner had whiskey spit into his eyes... what's his condition? NC: Mort, as of now DefCon is pretty bent out of shape. He was let out of the hospital yesterday, the doctors think he'll be alright in the long run, but with as much damaged tissue as he has in his eyes, wrestling anytime soon could be questionable. LM: How long to you project? Certainly this won't take you out of the match with the High Plains Drifters for elusive number twenty... NC: Well, Larry, it could be a long time. Knowing DefCon's fighting spirit, he will probably _claim_ to be ready come Birthday Bash, if that is when the match ends up taking place, but I am not so sure. I want to make it absolutely clear to him that his vision is first and foremost... and if that means giving up that chance to go down in history as the first to twenty wins in the IIWF, then so be it. But don't expect this to go without impunity, Larry. Pale, Easy, Josey, all three of you staggering, inebriated fools, watch your backs. 'Cause if I have to fight each of you myself, DefCon will get his revenge. LM: Thank you very much NavCom. [Fade. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] ************************************************************************** ---------------- LIVE INTERVIEW: MR. MIC AND PAIN INC. ----------------- ************************************************************************** LM: The team everyone is chasing in the IIWF is the team with the World Tag Team belts. I'm speaking of Pain Inc., who were the beneficiaries of DefCon's injury last Saturday. Mr. Mic and Pain Inc. are standing by LIVE in the studio with Becky, so take it away "The Woman They Call Becky": [Cut to Becky in the studio's interview set. Pain Inc is out in full force. Mr.Mic stands up front flanked by Morningstar and Hellraiser with Hades towering behind him. Becky LaRue speaks BL: Well, Mr.Mic, it seems that Pain Inc. remain the champs, albeit thanks in part to the High Plains Drifters. MM: Ms. LaRue, whatever problems the Armed Farces and the Drifters have is none of Pain Inc.'s concern. Our job was to win the match, which we did. I can't help it if the Forces have gone and pissed off another team here in the IIWF. BL: Hey, watch your [BLEEP]in' language. This is a family show. Okay, how about the rumor that your team is set to defend the titles against Night Patrol at Birthday Bash? Brenda... uh, I mean _Ms.Hawkings_ certainly gets my vote for manager of the year. MM: First of all, Becky, I want to apologize for last week. My gift to Mr. Roberts was in no way supposed to take the spotlight away from yourself. I only felt that since a woman of your beauty, charisma, and charm now had everything that Mr. Roberts should receive something. It was not in any way meant to be unoriginal or a slap in the face. Hell, I could have given the damn thing to Dross. BL: Oh god, no! Dross in a Porsche... talk about a fish out of water! He'd probably have to get that Neanderthal Nils to drive it for him. Well, Mr. Mic, I can see your point to an extent. I mean I _do_ have everything. Er... but what about the match? MM: I don't see how the IIWF can allow the Night Patrol a chance at the titles. I mean, has it now come to the point that people are rewarded for stabbing others in the back? Night Patrol completely turns on us and yet the IIWF gives them a title shot. You want us to defend the tag belts? No problem. Give us a test like the Prophets of Rage or the Dark Disciples, not circus sideshow acts like Night Patrol and the Zodiac Connection. BL: Yeah, what about those Zodiac freaks? MM: You said it all, Becky. The Zodiac morons are saying I'm whining. Of course they'd say that -- they have two "valets" at ringside. Why should they not be all happy? As for their comments, keep running your mouths, boys. It just shows how pathetic and stupid you both are. Remember _we're_ the champs. We survived our first title defense and you didn't. BL: I also understand that you have a challenge to issue? MM: Yes, thank you Becky. It seems that the Zodiacs want to keep talking about their steroid-monkey Cancer while we all know that Hades is the real deal here in the IIWF.. So, if President Spreadbury will allow it, I offer up this match for Birthday Bash: Hades vs. Cancer in a New York Street Fight match. How 'bout it morons, does Cancer have the guts? I hope the "honourable" President Spreadbury will come out this week and give us a ruling on this match. BL: Well the guy behind the camera who makes minimum wage tells me we're out of time. Thanks for joining us tonight, "The Man They Call Mr.Mic". Oh, by the way, nice suit MM: Thanks Becky, you look very tasty... er, I mean attractive yourself. [Fade. Cut back to Larry and Becky in the studio.] ************************************************************************** ------------------------- IIWF SINGLES RANKINGS ------------------------- ************************************************************************** ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Name F/H Fought W L D Win% Ranking (old) new ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Casey James H 38 22 14 2 61% (WC) WC Lord Byron H 22 17 5 0 77% (IC) IC The White Phoenix F 22 15 6 1 70% (CW) CW ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Creed N 14 11 3 0 79% (1) 1 Deathbringer H 31 22 6 3 76% (2) 2 Requiem F 6 4 1 1 75% (3) 3 Steve Kowalski H 19 14 5 0 74% (4) 4 "Enigma" Takezo Musashi F 30 22 8 0 73% (5) 5 Derek Mota H 5 3 1 1 70% (6) 6 Subway Psycho F 32 21 9 2 69% (7) 7 Chris Quigley F 26 17 7 2 69% (9) 8 Mad Dog Watkins H 13 9 4 0 69% (10) 9 Otto Verhoeven H 30 20 9 1 68% (8) 10 Billy Shakespeare F 38 25 12 1 67% (12) 11 Highwayman F 9 6 3 0 67% (11) 12 "Sychosys" Joe Petrow N 12 7 4 1 63% (13) 13 Brody Thunder H 21 13 8 0 62% (14) 14 Marty Warnett F 38 23 15 0 61% (15) 15 Mr. Damage H 30 18 12 0 60% (16) 16 Nightwing F 10 6 4 0 60% (17) 17 Dirt Dog Unique Allah N 17 9 6 2 58% (18) 18 "Real Deal" Luke Steele F 9 5 4 0 56% (19) 19 Tiger Claw H 44 23 19 2 55% (20) 20 Chris Herforth N 13 7 6 0 54% (21) 21 Serge Annis N 12 6 5 1 54% (24) 22 The Sandman F 32 16 16 0 50% (22) 23 Ronnie Paris F 14 7 7 0 50% (23) 24 The Hangman H 17 6 7 4 47% (25) 25 The Cell H 22 10 12 0 45% (26) 26 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Duncan Macbeth N 1 1 0 0 100% (27=) 27 Tony Starks F 4 3 1 0 75% (29) 28 Ike Sampson F 2 1 1 0 50% (27=) 29 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ************************************************************************** ------------------------ IIWF TAG TEAM RANKINGS ------------------------- ************************************************************************** ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Name of team F/H Fought W L D Win% Ranking (old) new ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Pain Inc. H 22 13 8 1 61% (WT) WT The Harlequins N 9 6 3 0 67% (US) US ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Prophets of Rage H 8 7 1 0 88% (1) 1 Night Patrol H 8 6 2 0 75% (2) 2 Domination F 11 7 2 2 73% (3) 3 Cold Spell F 7 5 2 0 72% (4) 4 Rising Sun Revolution F 16 11 5 0 69% (5) 5 The Armed Forces H 30 19 10 1 65% (6) 6 High Plains Drifters H 32 19 12 1 61% (8) 7 W & W Express H 9 5 4 0 56% (7) 8 The Hangmen H 20 10 8 2 55% (9) 9 Dark Disciples H 16 8 7 1 53% (10) 10 The Zodiac Connection F 24 12 12 0 50% (11) 11 ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The Last Resort F 3 3 0 0 100% (12) 12 Violence Unlimited N - - - - - (-) - ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ************************************************************************** ---------------------- UPCOMING IIWF PROGRAMMING ----------------------- ************************************************************************** LM: Fans, be sure to join us tomorrow as Tim Dross and Steve Roberts call all the action on "IIWF Saturday Night". BL: But tune in for "LaRue's Lair" anyway. LM: The "IIWF Hotline" is updated on Sunday, and you'll get reaction from all the stars on "Monday Musings". That leads up to "Inside the IIWF" on Tuesday, and we'd really appreciate your watching it because the show is beginning to slip in the ratings. Darn those "Lassie" reruns. BL: How many times can one stupid kid fall down a well? LM: So until next time, this is Larry Morton for... BL: "The Woman They Call Gorgeous"! LM: ...saying goodnight wrestling fans! [The remote camera zooms back up the aisle as the Brody Thunder fan and the Mad Dog Watkins fans begin shoving each other harder and finally begin exchanging blows. The other fans wave their signs and t-shirts as the credits roll by too quickly to read. Fade.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Steve Owens | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | sowens@admin.presby.edu | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | IIWFadmin@aol.com | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+