##### ###### ### ########## ########## ########## #### ## ########## ########## ########## #### # #### ######## ##### ##### #### ## ##### #### #### #### #### ### #### #### #### #### ############# ######### #### #### ########### ######### #### #### #### #### #### ######### ######### ### #### #### ######### ######### ### ## #### ######## ######## ## # #### =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ## =-=-=-= INTERNATIONAL INTERNET WRESTLING FEDERATION =============================================== M + O + N + D + A + Y M + U + S + I + N + G + S ----------------------------------------------- 9 June 1997 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Brody Thunder stands in the IIWF interview area. Sweat is pouring down his body, having just finished his grueling match with Tiger Claw. He rubs the left side of his ribcage gingerly, wincing as he does so. He puts his hands on his hips and lifts his head, staring straight into the camera...] BT: Can ya hear that sound, James?     That is the sound of my footsteps gettin' closer an' closer ta     takin' that strap an' kickin' yer hide. Ya can't hide, James. Ya     sent yer henchman Claw ta take the fall fer ya this time. Next     time I want yer ass in that ring.     Six days.     Six days, James... that's what ya got ta give me yer decision.     After that... [Thunder adjusts his elbow pad, then slaps it in a mock clothesline fashion.]     ...I'll make it fer ya. See ya..."champ". [Thunder walks off camera rubbing his bruised ribcage. Fade to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Duncan Macbeth ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Backstage at the Olympic Stadium in Juarez, Mexico, Duncan Macbeth is pacing back and forth like a caged lion in the makeshift interview area, rage boiling over in his green eyes as he attempts to collect his thoughts after his run-in with the European Alliance and his controversial loss to Creed.  The IIWF staff are staying well back from the mercurial Scot as he crosses and recrosses the studio floor, and at one point Ronnie Paris unwittingly enters to record some comments, takes one look at the seething Macbeth, and promptly exits.  Finally, Macbeth looks up from his pacing, fixing the camera with a corrosive green gaze.] DM: Am I startin' t' get t' ye, Byron?  Makin' ye sweat just a wee bit? What did it feel like, sittin' up there wi' Dross an' Roberts, watchin' me goin' toe t' toe wi' the man who humbled an' embarrassed ye in th' past, an' knowin' BOTH o' us are snappin' at yuir heels like th' very hounds o' HELL?! Ye must really be gettin' worried if ye had t' stick yuir nose in me match, then bring in yuir Warsteiner-swillin' stooge t' save yuir poncy arse!  Well, I've already dealt wi' th' Teutonic Tosser, an' now I'm goin' t' deal wi' ye, Byron!  Ye were righ' about me, I dinnae believe in nonsense, an' th' kind o' nonsense ye've used t' cling desperately t' tha' belt o' yuirs has gone on long enough!  I had Creed dead t' rights tonigh', an' ye took a victory from me.  Soon, mark me, I'm goin' t' take back tha' victory from YE -- an' with it, yuir Intercontinental Title! Jus' put it on th' line, toffee-nose... at th' Clash, if ye dare! [Macbeth's fiery gaze remains fixed on the camera for a moment, then he turns and storms out of the interview area, shoving a crewman aside as he exits.  Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Serge Annis ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade up to Serge Annis standing backstage, in street clothes a few hours after IIWF Saturday night.] SA: He he he. Tongiht Genesis, I warned you that if you stuck your nose into _MY_ business, then you'd pay for it. Oh... wait, you didn't. Oh well, you still paid the cost. Deathbringer, you sucessfully did something I thought you could never do... earn my respect. After our match, something clicked in to the Epitome Of Evil... this guy ain't half bad! Deathbringer, after what I dished out to you... you still defeated me 1-2-3. No excuses. That is why I respect you now. I may have refused to shake your hand, because it would be rubbing it in. However later on, I redeemed myself, as you did earlier. Requiem, how did it feel, "_brother_", he he he? I kind of like the tune I played on your head. If only it were sharp. Genesis, perhaps tonight, was a lesson just who is the real "darkness", or I'd say, evil in the IIWF. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Requiem ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF Interview Area, backstage at the Olympic Stadium. An angry looking Requiem stalks into camera sight, and stares straight into the camera, his white eyes fairly blazing in the night, the fiery lettering upon jacket eerily illuminating the wall] REQUIEM: I am greatly angered, Serge Annis. Greatly angered! The last time the fires of rage burned this brightly within me it was the Deathbringer who felt my wrath, but now it is your turn. I could forgive your interference in the affairs of Genesis, I could forgive your assault upon my person, but there is one thing I cannot and will not forgive!                 Where is my guitar, Serge Annis? It lies broken and wrecked, destroyed by your hand. The guitar itself is nothing but a symbol, I can find another, but you destroyed the symbol of my authority this night, and for that you will pay!                 You talk of the fire that burns, Serge Annis? The brightest, hottest, most intense flame your paltry imagination can conceive is as nothing compared to the inferno of hatred towards you that now blazes away deeply within me! I challenge you, Serge Annis! Just you and I, this Saturday. I shall come alone, without Genesis, for your sin was grave, a sin that must be punished personally! Serge Annis, you destroyed my guitar, and for that I shall destroy first your body, then your very immortal soul. I do not fear your flames, Serge Annis, but this I swear to you:         You will come to fear mine! [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [A sweaty and winded Billy Shakespeare backstage.] BS: Chris Quigley, I don't want to wrestle you again... but I know that     I'll probably have to.  Not because either of us need to prove our     abilities to each other... but because we know how to fill the seats.  That's what it is all about.  Lebec, you'll never understand that, and that is why you will remain the sad charletan that thou art. Dirt Dog... only the weakest reed needs support from others to stand. Surround yourself with the best... I'm coming for you. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Showstopper" Simon Lebec ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Cut to backstage in Mexico, following the brawl between Quigley, Warnett, Lebec and Shakespeare. Simon Lebec is sitting, with an ice pack on his jaw:] SL: What a night in Mexicanna! Quigley... Warnett... Shakespeare... you all want to kill each other?  Go ahead!  Hell!  I might even join in! Because, I don't like you.  Either of you.  Warnett, the other two have been on my show.  And by jove, I just got word that you'll be on it in a couple of weeks' time.  Lucky me!  We can settle our differences there. Quigley, you and I will never settle our differences.  But I've got your number, pal.   And finally... Shakespeare.  Billy-boy, if I wasn't a professional broadcast journalist, I'd have smoked your ass a couple of weeks back on "The Final Cut"! I think it'd be best for you to keep to yourself and stay out of others' affairs.  What Quigley, Warnett and I have between us is just that... between us.  You get one of your personalities a little play to read and stay home.   That's about all I have to say.  Heed my warnings, jerks... 'cause even something this pretty can get real ugly if he wants to! [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Scott Rogers ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Scott Rogers stands before an IIWF backdrop. He wears the street clothes he wore at ringside on Saturday Night. He combs his hair with what appears to be a solid gold comb. He looks into the camera.] SR: Tonight on 'Saturday Night' here in the cess-pit they call Mexico, I was called out by Luke Steele to aid an ally of mine, Ronnie Paris. When I was asked to come down here on Thursday Night, I wasn't too keen on the idea but, being the man I am, I did out of respect for Ronnie. Genesis, it's all your fault. [Rogers pauses and combs his hair some more.] You will have to accept the consequences which are comin' your way. And believe me, I'm not the kinda guy who does things by halves. Satisfaction guaranteed. That's me. [Rogers smirks and looks down. He then looks back into the camera.] Nightwing, you defeated me on Wednesday, congratulations. Don't get used to it. I fight fire with fire, always have, always will. I couldn't give a [BLEEP] if you're on the right side or not. Ronnie does - good luck to him. You've been screwed too many times in the past? I'll make sure you get screwed a helluva lot more in the future. My future. Genesis, you think you have exclusive rights to taking over the IIWF, huh? Well guess again. [Rogers smiles, evilly. He caresses his stubble then continues.] I don't need to join some little clique who thinks just by saying [Rogers mocks Nightwing's accent] "We're not in the IIWF. We're  Genesis. So there!" you have the power to do as you please. You don't. Annis and DeathBringer will show you that, as will I, and anyone else who cares to aid me. Ike, if you don't wanna be a part of it, that's fine by me. You wanna claim my win over you was dirty. You go right ahead. The fans love me and believe me, Sampson. If you wanna meet again, let's go for it, but as far as I'm concerned you've already been taken care of, and put away to rest. [Rogers pauses and flexes his pecs. He looks to speak some more but then walks off set. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Sychosys" Joe Petrow ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Cut to a Mardi Gras like atmosphere in the parking lot of Olympic Stadium.  Some Sychositos are whopping it up with some chickens in the background, but in front of the camera stands a bruised and angry "Sychosys" Joe Petrow, and "Majestic" Maurice McArthur, while a wild, power-drunk gaze that comes from obtaining victory over the world's tag team champions.] JP: Congratulations, Cowards of Rage!  You proved me wrong!  Not only     did you take is lightly, you didn't even take us seriously!  So     we're some kind of joke, huh?  I'm not a man, huh?  Well [Joe bends     down and smacks the ground with his hands, then stands back up     again] WHO'S LAUGHING NOW!?  Who believed who's hype?  You guys     are warriors!?  Beating up my fans, cowering away from a straight     fight?  *THIS* was The Prophets of Rage that has this league so     afraid!?  I think my partner said it best! 3M: You suck, you suck, YOU SUCK!  You wouldn't even get in the ring to     fight me!  ME!  TRIPLE M!  HA HA HA HA HA! [Maurice goes into hysterics, while Petrow continues] JP: And so, "warriors", you got BEAT!  But you think I'm happy!?  You     think I wanted to beat you guys in under two minutes, and only show     off a fraction of what Team Sychosys could do!?  Did you really think that some lame high-school bully strong-arm tactics were gonna put _ME_ out?  Well, you guys watch the tape of this match and think long and hard.  Because Team Sychosys fought your game, and BEAT your suck asses!  So if you wanna get your self-respect back, next time it's gonna be on OUR terms!  No more of this non-title crap;  next time you crawl out from your shell and put the belts on the line!  And next time... oh yeah, there'll be gimicks involved!  You don't like it, TOUGH CRAP!  You should've got the job done the first time! [Joe gets a wild look of his own in his eyes] JP: Maybe... maybe a "Hide The Pellet" match!  Maybe a "Lumberjacks With     Tables" match, where everyone wears some cute red and black flannel     shirts!  But oh yeah, it's advantage Sychopaths now!  I'm the number     one contender to EVERY belt in this stupid league now, and I'm not     bending for nobodies terms anymore!  Rages, you may still have your     belts, but WE have your dignity, and we ain't giving it up that     easily! [Petrow turns around and walks back to join Triple M, who is partying madly with his new fans.  Fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS: Prophets of Rage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade in: The Prophets of Rage pack their baggage in their dressing room, looking eager to get out of Mexico.] DR: Well, this has been the biggest bunch of crap I've ever seen.  How can a match start when both teams haven't entered the ring.  Petrow, I see you paid people off again to let you have your circus.  Boy, you had your fun. Now it's comin' around to our turn.  These little stunts of yours are wearing on my last nerve.  Hear me, Petrow.  I'm gettin' you back in the ring.  And the Prophets and Team Sychosys are gonna do this proper.  Then there'll be nothing left of you. SR: Joe Petrow, you have irritated and aggravated the world tag team champions.  Not smart.  Not smart at all.  What do you think will come of this?  Nothing good.  I promise you that.  Nothing good can possibly come of this.  IIWF, we promise you one thing.  There's gonna be hell to pay for this! [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Ike Sampson ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Ike Sampson sits alone in a nearly dark locker room with a towel draped over his head, blocking him from view and muffling his voice.] IKE:  Mad Dog... I'm sorry, man, I had no idea.  I didn't want to win       it that way.  But you know you would have done the same thing.        I've seen you in the ring enough to know that you wouldn't have       passed up an opportunity like that.  Would ya?! But I'm still       sorry... Byron, Otto, you better stay outta my business.  Consider       this your warning...        And Dirt Dog... you got it all wrong.  It ain't about "stickin'       together"... It ain't about "The Man"... It's all about respect.       If two man have respect for each other, and want to test their       skills against the best the world has to offer, who cares if they're both black?!  Don't give me that solidarity crap... me and the Mad Dog are on the same page.  We both know what it's all about.  And if the "truth" you find at the bottom of that bottle tells you something different, then shame on ya.       And that... _THAT'S_ the truth.  Creed... _he's_ the truth.  Mad       Dog... _he's_ the truth.  And Ike Sampson?!?  Looks like _he's_       the truth, too... [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Mad Dog Watkins ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE:  The darkened set of the IIWF's "Monday Musings".  The lights go from a dim setting to a full-bore glare as the massive figure of Mad Dog Watkins walks into the picture.  Watkins is dressed in his tights for a change, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.  He is in a hurry, but definitely has something to say...] MDW: How you doing, Byron?  You and the ape must be feeling pretty goo about yo'selves right now. [A big grin comes over Waktins' battered visage and he lowers his head. After a moment, he raises his head and begins to speak again.] MDW: And I wanna thank you for it.      Why, you ask?  Because you just woke me up.  [Watkins paces back and forth momentarily, takes a deep breath, and continues.] MDW: The pup warned me that you'd show your ugly mugs tonight.  Hell, I      even KNEW you'd show up.  But I didn't care.  Tonight was about me      and the little dog... just thought that we might be able to get      through before the trash arrived.       After me and the Cowpoker beat the hell out of each other for a few weeks, I didn't know what I wanted to do.  Didn't think anyone else round here could give me a good fight.  'Specially not you ladies. But damned if you ain't set on proving me wrong.  Not that I think you can bring it as good as you talk it... you can't.  But you've done something that you didn't want to do... you woke me up. I hope you ladies sleep well tonight, 'cause from now on you gotta deal with me.  Your championship dream is over Byron, and the nightmare's only begun. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Creed ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Creed stands, fresh from a post-match shower, in the IIWF interview area.  He is pulling his black "Anyone...Anywhere...Anytime" t-shirt over his head as he addresses the camera.] CREED: Well, hell. Can't say I'm happy 'bout that one.  I'll take it, damn right I'll take it.  Number of draws I been gettin' last couple of months I oughta go to art school. But I ain't happy.  Ain't happy 'cause I was a little off.  Knee good. Feel pretty strong, right, but I got a little rust on me.  S'okay. Trainin' hard... me and the Dog workin' it out.  He says it'll be all good by tourney time.  You know, I'm learnin' it as much mental as physical.  Learned that from the Dog... and I learned that from you, Byron. You a good teacher, Byron.  Me -- I'm always up in a guy's face.  But you -- you sneaky.  You pick your spots... stick and move... feint and jab. Gotta learn the mental side of this sport.  Not just in the ring, but out the ring too. Maybe one day I teach you a lesson, Byron.  Maybe one day you visit my classroom.  Maybe one day you get a lesson in payback that you never forget, champ. Maybe one day, Byron.  Maybe one day soon. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Violence Unlimited ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Fade in to Violence Unlimited in front of the interview background.] MUTILATOR: Losing can be tough to handle, at times.  When you're Violence Unlimited, losing is unacceptable.  Especially in the case of the loss we met at the hands of the Harlequins on Wednesday past. JAGUAR: They say losing comes to all in due time.  Well, the time has come and we have lost.  Now, the time is past.  The time to win begins again with the High Plains Drifters. MUTILATOR: The Drifters are one of the greatest teams in IIWF History, but we are the new blood.  With all this talk of the new blood of the IIWF... Genesis, so to speak, everyone seems to forget Violence Unlimited.  We'll teach you all a lesson.  Especially the Spell. JAGUAR: After all, Cold Spell was built up to win that four way match... and if I remember correctly, they didn't win.  Our mission was completed.  We made sure they were defeated, even if it meant sacrificing ourselves in the process.  Sacrifice... we did. MUTILATOR: Make sure you are ready to feel a lot of pain, Drifters, because the mission is not just against the Cold Spell anymore, the mission is now to destroy the entire Genesis.  And we shall destroy them completely. If it means killing ourselves in the process. JAGUAR: Prepare to fear the team that is Violence Unlimited.  It's time for the REAL new blood to teach the other new blood a lesson. Nobody... nobody makes Violence Unlimited look bad.  Ever.  But we sure as hell are ready to mess you up. MUTILATOR: School's in session.  Today's class... _pain_. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Mr. Damage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Mr. Damage stands in the interview area.] MD: Well, well, well. This week saw Mr. Damage finally succumb to an opponent in the year of Nineteen Hundred and Ninety Seven. I could see it happening in the near future, I mean one man alone can't be expected to do the work of an earthquake week in week out. But to fail to Tony Starks is just too much, a man I have beaten before to a pulp makes me ropable, the referee Alphonso was atrocious -- fast counts for Starks and a death march for me. I can tell you, the Silent One has made a formal complaint to IIWF Towers. Starks, I will face you again and I will cripple you once again. That I promise... that I promise and if you don't like it, Starks, too bad. As for this week I will see what it brings. Now get out of my face. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Last Resort ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Masked Avenger and El Diablo sit in the locker room after their match with the Dark Disciples.] MA: Man, what a win. We sure showed them Dark Disciples how to wrestle -- we kicked their butts big time! Yeah! I knew they'd succumb to my Hong Kong Phooey chop! ED: Calm down Avenger. It was good fight match but once again it was marred by interference from another team, the victory was somewhat of a hollow one. MA: Yeah, but a win is a win and now were the number one rated team in the IIWF. ED: No Avenger, I am not happy about this at all, the Disciples were a very strong team and I can see why they once held the Tag Team belts. Disciples, if you are out there, listen... I would once again like for us to meet in the ring, you surely cannot be happy with the result of Saturday's match so how can you refuse? Hopefully this time our match will not be marred by the intereference of your former friends. MA: What? You want to get in the ring with them again! ED: You have to face good opponents to get to the top. MA: But, but..... [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The W & W Express ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera opens to a Hollywood street late at night.  The glitz and glamour is nowhere to be seen.  The only people out are the hookers, the homeless, drug dealers, and other filth of Hollywood.  The sounds of gunshots followed by police sirens fill the air.  The camera then goes to two men in long trench coats and wearing hoods.  One man pulls down the hood and it is Doug Wayne. The other man is Clark Watson.] WAYNE: Hollywood, California.  When the lights go out even in this town the creatures come out at night.  The killers, the whores, the junkies and the other filth all come out to play. We're still here standing our ground. WATSON: Things change, people change, situations change. Today's big star becomes tomorrow's nobody.  Some times your seemingly invincible heroes fade away or even worse, are destroyed right in front of your eyes.  People come and go all the time. We're still here standing our ground. WAYNE: We've been in the IIWF only a few months, but things have changed around us. Champions have gone and then been struck down or have faded away. Remember Night Patrol.  Remember Dan Kauffman. They're all gone. But we're still standing our ground. WATSON: We have changed too.  We are not the same team anymore.  Spilling blood and tears every night against whoever the suits would throw at us.  It didn't matter. WAYNE: When I look in the mirror I don't see the W & W Express anymore.  I see a team that has fought a war every night and gotten nothing.  We fought the best, we beat beat the best and sometimes we lost to the best.  We never came out of a match with our heads hung low.  We never won a match with anyone's help.  We won by ourselves and if we had to, lose by ourselves. WATSON: It's time for a new attitude, a cleansing if you will.  The W & W Express is no more.  The Hollywood Bloods are born.  No more "Dark Horse" team of the IIWF.  We are going to be in your face all the time.  We'll turn your dreams into nightmares. WAYNE: Harlequins, Dark Disciples, Prophets of Rage: take notice.  Your time is up.  No more sneaking up on people, We are right here, right now.  The era of the Hollywood Bloods has begun. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ SPECIAL PRESS CONFERENCE: Rising Sun Revolution ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene cuts to a hastily assembled interview area, with photographers and press reporters from a number of news stations, and a desk, behind which sit Tim Dross, Ryudo Kenjinata and Hiroshi Kasai, aka the Rising Sun Revolution.  Both men are wearing jeans and official "IIWF Ring Wars II: The Homecoming" t-shirts.  Hiroshi also sports a pair of Raybans.  The press start to quieten as Ryudo stands and begins to read a prepared statement...] RK: Over the last few months my partner and I have seen a number of changes within the tag team ranks here in the IIWF:  We've seen new, talented teams arrive, and a similar number of old favourites leave.  I think we can safely say beyond a shadow of a doubt that the tag teams in the IIWF at the present time represent perhaps some of the finest athletes in the world today. [Hiroshi nods slightly, having only understood a small portion of what his partner has said.  Ryudo pauses for a second before continuing...] RK: When we first arrived in the IIWF, our first words were that we wanted to compete among the best teams in the world.  This only makes it much more painful to have to say, that effective immediately, we are terminating our contracts with the IIWF. [A mumbled response from the reporters.  Some act surprised, while others exchange knowing glances.] RK: In recent months we have found it increasingly hard to compete against the teams and the circumstances we have faced. Our form has dipped to an alarming level, and we feel that we no longer represent the high standards required by the IIWF.  The future belongs to teams like Cold Spell, the Harlequins, and Violence Unlimited:  teams like the Prophets of Rage.  And while this is exactly the sort of competition we longed for on our arrival, it is also the sort of competition we can longer compete with.  My partner and I feel it is time to move on, and this will be in the best interests of both us as a team, and of the federation. [Tim Dross stands, and shakes Ryudo's hand, who sits back down.  Hiroshi slaps him on the back.] TD: Thank you, Ryudo.  Does anybody have any questions? [A number of hands are raised.  Dross singles an ISN reporter out] Rep1: What do you and your partner plan on doing now? RK: We will be returning to our roots for the time being:  We have been offered a contract in the Japanese National league, and also positions as coaches in several regional Americian leagues.  We plan on taking some time out to look at our options. [A second reporter raises his hand, and Ryudo nods in his direction.] Rep2: What of the rumours that you are to take the Alphabet Boys on tour? RK: [with a grin]  Totally unfounded, although Abie and Zed are more than welcome to join us should we return to Japan... although I heard they're thinking of starting their own daytime TV series... [Muffled laughter.  A third reporter raises his hand...] Rep3: Do you have any final advice for the teams in the IIWF? RK: Only to watch your back.  It's a rough world out there, and friends aren't always what they appear to be.  Good luck to everyone, and especially to everyone who'se supported us while we were here. [No more hands are raised.  Ryudo and Hiroshi shake Tim Dross' hand one last time, and rise to leave... when one final reporter holds his hand up.] Rep4: Hiroshi, do you have anything to add? [Ryudo smiles, and translates for the big man, who stands up, pushes his shades back, and says with a grin in broken English...] HK: We'll... be.. back. [The scene fades out.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Jim Jividen | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | brokeback@webtv.net | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+