##### ###### ### ########## ########## ########## #### ## ########## ########## ########## #### # #### ######## ##### ##### #### ## ##### #### #### #### #### ### #### #### #### #### ############# ######### #### #### ########### ######### #### #### #### #### #### ######### ######### ### #### #### ######### ######### ### ## #### ######## ######## ## # #### =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ## =-=-=-= INTERNATIONAL INTERNET WRESTLING FEDERATION =============================================== M + O + N + D + A + Y M + U + S + I + N + G + S ----------------------------------------------- 23 June 1997 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera opens on an empty lockerroom. A commotion can be heard off camera. The sound of someone yelling. As the voice gets closer it becomes more audible. It is the voice of Brody Thunder. He abruptly storms onto the IIWF interview area set up in the lockerroom. A chair goes crashing against the wall. A bench is thrown into a set of lockers. Thunder is obviously angered over the decision in his match with Casey James that ended mere moments ago. His face stained with blood and sweat pouring from his body, he wheels around and looks into the camera.] BT: What jus' happened out there?! Someone please tell me what the hell jus' happened out there?!     Can ya tell me that, Spreadbury?!     A draw?! A flamin' _draw_?! This is yer way o' gettin' me fer knottin' yer squash with that steel chair a few weeks back, ain't it? How else can ya justify a screwjob like I jus' got?!     Bureaucratic bull-pucky!     There shoulda been a winner if we had ta fight all night long! But no... ya don't think the Wolf would be yer type o' champion so ya pull a fast one an' take yer belt robbin' me o' my rightful shot! It's a pretty low deal, Spreadbury. Ya wouldn't have gotten yer noggin thumped if ya had stayed outta my business ta begin with. An' now ya found yerself a nice an' tidy little "out" ta keep yer strap from where it belongs... around my waist. [Thunder appears to calm down a bit.]     Fine.     Ya wouldn't let me finish James off tonight, but I'll tell ya this,     big man.         You put my name in that tournament an' I'll show up in Boston on July 12th an' I'll beat whoever ya put across the ring from me. An' when I do I'll walk outta that arena with the IIWF World title an' there won't be a damn thing you or yer pencilneck cronies can do about it!     An' James...     ...we ain't through, ace... [Thunder slams a fist into his open hand.]     ...not by a long shot. [Thunder puts a hand over the camera and apparently shoves the cameraman to the ground. The camera gets a brief shot of the ceiling lights before cutting abruptly to snow. Fade to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Sychosys" Joe Petrow ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Parking lot.  Sychopaths.  Mooselips beer.  Despite the happenings of Saturday night, all appears well in the traditional after-card carpool of Sychopaths, as Maurice stands with a few fans by a Volvo, saying "Did you see that dropkick!?" over and over again.  Slightly away from the action, "Sychosys" faces the camera, arms crossed, with what can only be characterized as a curious look on his face.] JP: Another Saturday night in the crazy, crazy IIWF!  First off,     congratulations to Lord Byron, on successfully defending the     Intercontinental title.  Second, my condolences to Lord Byron     for successfully defending the Intercontinental title.  By     losing to Joe Petrow, you would have had the chance to grow in     ways you never thought possible, and someday become a legend in     this sport.  But now you've defended your crown, king of the     secondary champs, destined to forever remain a prisoner of your     misguided pride.  Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.  Kind     of sad really, but hey, you'll never realize it!  So M'Lord, all     the best to you and yours! [Suddenly, Petrow has a more solemn expression on his face.] JP: Musashi-domo...gomen nasai.  I am sorry.  I should have seen it     sooner.  The look in your eyes...the look I have seen so many     times before, but always from the inside looking out.  That's     why I didn't recognize it when it looked me right in the face.     But now I know!  [A small smile forms]  I know!  You will     betray me again.  And again.  I know this.  Like the baby     dealing with his first new teeth, the adjustment is never easy.     But I promise you this, Takezo.  I promise you, you will finish     the journey you've started.  The King of Pain will be dethrowned,     and in his place the Prince of Destruction will be the hand by     which the world will be ruled.  Come to me, Musashi.  I'll be there. [Petrow turns to walk back to his brethen, then quickly turns back.] JP: July 12th!  Images of sorrow, pictures of delight.  And the     fledgling legend that will be denied no longer.  Lord Byron, you     didn't take the kiwi.  The kiwi decides for itself.  And now I     am sure...[Petrow lowers his voice to an excited whisper]...I am     he, the chosen one! [Joe turns and runs back to his crowd, shouting "Somebody gimme a Mooselips Lager!" as his image blurs out of focus.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Billy Shakespeare backstage Saturday Night.  He is tired and sweating, yet obviously exhilarated.] BS: "The play is the thing... the play is the thing."  Were you watching     the show, Genesis?  Were you watching how the great ones perform, Derek Mota?  Enough of the yammering of you whelps.     Chris Quigley, what manner of demon drives you?  What avitar taunts     you with glory then rudely snatches it from in front your face?  I     claim to respect you, and while that holds true, more and moreso that respect turns to pity.  Life has dealt you a cruel hand indeed.     Lebec, mere words cannot descibe how I loathe thee.  You and I both     know who the crowds come to see, for whom they shout, and that is for myself... and Marty Warnett.  Yet this revelation continues to baffle you.  You are like the smallest chigger, forever hovering, forever biting but causing no pain.  Perhaps I muse incorrectly, perhaps you're just a moth... drawn to the "Spotlight"?     For the rest of you: the first act was the cruiserweight title, my     second was the IC.  Now begins the third act:  The world belt.  Said     Henry V, "I have immortal longings in me!" [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [A sweaty, bloody, exhausted Chris Quigley somewhat stumbles onto the Monday Musing set.  He rubs his face roughly with one hand, brushing the hair out of his face with the other.  The straps out of his wrestling tights are _torn_, one kneepad down around his ankle.  Some tape around his wrist is unwound.  He looks someone who survived a train wreck, but just barely.  He gasps for air, talking like there's no time to spare.] CQ: You fight and you fight, and do your best and wonder when you're finally going to get a break, and then something finally happens.  Something _finally_ goes how you wanted it to go.  Steve Owens has vacated the IIWF World Championship.  At the Coronation Clash, one man will have to go through three others in order to get that strap. [Quigley clenches his eyes, as sweat rolls down his face...] CQ: I blew two opportunities to win the World Title already, I'll be God damned if I'm going to blow a third!  There are three men who are gonna get _blasted_ outta the ring at Coronation Clash by me!  This is it.  A tournament that only the best can win!  I'm going to prove I _am_ the best! I've had it up to here with Marty Warnett, and Simon Lebec, and Billy Shakespeare!  Casey James and Brody Thunder were fighting over something that should be _mine_, and come July 12th, it will be!  I promise.  It _will_ be! [Quigley, emotionally drained, limps off the screen, as the camera stays on long enough for the sounds of the tenacious, yet battered warrior scuffling down the hall to be heard, before the scene fades to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Requiem ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF interview Area, shortly after "Syndicate" Saturday Night. The lights dim and flicker as Requiem enters. White eyes stare at the camera as Requiem begins to speak, his voice seeming almost... cheerful.] REQUIEM: "Genesis freaks", Marty Warnett? Marty, Marty, Marty... what will you say next? You know, Marty, men like you and Steve Roberts certainly know how to hand out the insults...          And yet, I notice that Steve Roberts is a tad unhappy when he is on the receiving end. The Genesis Generation tonight showed their loyalty to us, and you took exception to it. Too bad, Roberts, too bad. Remember, Steve... "Shoot, Genesis, Shoot!" hehehe.          What was it you said, Roberts? "Oh dear, don't let the big bad          cartoon character hurt me!" Keep it up, Roberts, keep it up.          But now Genesis can turn their attention to the real issue. The          IIWF Championship is on the line at Coronation Clash. We have a          chance to make history, and I intend to see that Genesis takes          that chance. Thirty two men, five of whom are Genesis.          Not bad odds. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Creed ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Moments after the shocking conclusion to the James/Thunder title match, and the announcement that the IIWF Heavyweight title would be up for grabs at the Coronation Clash Crusade Tournament, Creed stands expectantly in the IIWF interview area.] CREED: Byron.  Look, I don't like you... I don't like your style... I don't like the way you and your boy Otto do business.  And I promised all my fans that before I did anything else, I was gonna get payback. Well, I'm goin' back on my word. Oh, you gonna get what's coming you, Byron.  You gonna get all the payback you ever wanted. But not right now. 'Cause more important than the promise I made to my fans, is the promise I made to my moma. I'm five wins away from that belt.  Five wins.  No Syndicate... no politics... no one to keep me down.  I am five wins from takin' that belt back to Oakland like I promised... like I will do. So Byron, we on hold.  You do whatever you gotta do with Petrow or Macbeth or anybody.  I got no time for you right now. I got a tournament to win. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Derek Mota ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Cut to the IIWF Interview area, where Derek Mota is celebrating at the end of IIWF Saturday Night.  Mota is still wearing his wrestling gear, and is appears to be signing an autograph for a fan as the camera starts rolling. However, the camera quickly picks up the autograph, which actually is a check.  He hands it to someone outside the camera angle and we hear this person saying "Dank you berry much, Mr. Mota.  Anytime, eh?".  The action focuses back on Derek.] DM: So Tiger Claw, that's how it ends, huh?  Just the way I told everyone it would. You see, the New Generation of wrestlers will always beat the Old... uh, I mean, I wanna win more than you do so I'm gonna do it.  You fell for the ol' chains trick, I couldn't believe it, and with all those pads on your knees and elbows, you had no chance.  And that's why I win in the IIWF, Tiger.  I'm smarter than my opponents.  I find their strengths, and I make them into weaknesses.  You play mind games with Subway Psycho?  I play mind games with you.  It's that easy. Let's move on to some real topics.  The buzz is fadin' with the New Gen and the Old Gen thing.  That's good, 'cause it was so watered down with trash that kept on callin' themselves New Gen that it was givin' us a bad name.  Lemme tell ya one thing ... there's only one generation here that counts in the IIWF.  Things are set ta change here, and Mota's only lookin' out for what's best for himself. Coronation Clash.  I've got my name entered in there.  And I plan on becoming the next IIWF Champ.  Casey wasn't smart enough ta keep the title, Brody just wouldn't take the offer that I gave to him, hell, it's just natural that the title goes to the man who deserves it the most ... and that's Built for Speed, the Heatseeker himself, call me whatever you want, but after Coronation Clash, I'll only accept one name: Champ. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Duncan Macbeth ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Duncan Macbeth strides into the interview area backstage at the USAir Arena with the air of a boy who has just come from a carnival.  He is uncharacteristically cheerful, even after the pitched brawl that was the James/Thunder World title lumberjack match, concluded just moments previously, and his green eyes sparkle in the TV lights as he faces the camera.] DM: WHOOOO! Now, THA' was MY idea o' a match!  Everyone who's anyone in th' IIWF, all at each other's throats like a pack o' rabid curs!  'Bout bloody TIME we had a match like tha', an' look wha' it's produced -- th' World Title belt, on th' line an' up fer grabs!  Every man in th' IIWF's goin' t' get wha' e's been dreamin' of -- a shot at th' crown jewel o' th' sport o' wrestlin' itself!  An' at th' Clash, Duncan Macbeth's sure t' be in th' thick o' things when tha' title tourney starts, an' nae matter who or how many I have t' go through, I'm goin' all th' way, mark me! An' as fer ye, Byron, I came, I watched, an' I'm buggered if I ken wha' ye'd have me learn from tha' debacle o' a match wi' Petrow!  As far as I can reckon, ye were tryin' t' show me tha', as yuir pathetic title reign lingers on like a terminally ill cancer patient, ye're becomin' less effective as a wrestler an' more an' more reliant on th' German Jellyroll t' keep yuirself alive!  Cor, ye've even got th' tosser callin' yuir holds fer ye now!  Tell me, "Laird", why does th' so-called "greatest technical wrestler in th' world" need th' advice o' a glorified Reeperbahn bouncer? Maybe ye're losin' t' very abilities tha' once made ye a great wrestler. Maybe tha's why ye had t' cripple Creed t' beat 'im.  An' maybe tha's why ye're duckin' me now.  Well, ye cannae duck me forever, wee man.  Suck up some guts an' put it on th' line, if ye dare -- an' maybe YE'LL learn a thing or twa yuirself! [With that, Macbeth gives the camera a wink, and strolls out of the picture.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Scott Rogers ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Scott Rogers before an IIWF backdrop. He stands with a grin on his face, wearing the now familiar-on-him "IIWF Crew" tee-shirt with a cross and chain around his neck. He raises his huge arms to adjust his black and gold hair then his grin becomes a laugh as he looks into the camera.] SR: Heh. What did I tell ya IIWF? [pause] Come on.... [Rogers raises his voice.] What did I tell ya? Yeah. That's right. I told ya I'm the future of this federation. And what did I prove to you on Saturday Night? Well, let's just say that anyone who ain't convinced is more of a dolt than Steve Roberts. IIWF, I'm comin' into this Coronation Clash with one thing and one thing only on my mind. Victory. Yeah, _I_'ll be the next World Champion. You think I'm too inexperienced, huh? [Rogers smiles then whispers.] Here's a hint. Don't believe what ya read and hear about me. Just look at me for Christ's sake. [Rogers beckons the camera to look down his entire body.] Physically perfect. Mentally perfect. Intellectually perfect. Yeah, I got it all.         [Rogers begins to walk off set.] Oh yeah, and most important, I got the fans on my side. Somethin' very few others can say. The gold's as good as around _this_ waist as we speak.... [Fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Ronnie Paris ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Ronnie Paris is holding an icepack over his left eye, while the right one is a bright shade of purple, and for the most part too swollen to open. Paris' clothes are tattered, his face caked with dried blood: in short, he looks like death warmed over.] RP: You know, the big news that everyone's going to talk about is that we've all got a chance to win the World title. The IIWF World title, which in the wrestling world is _the_ World title. Everyone's speculating about who'll stab who in the back to win, but that ain't me. You see, of course I want to be champion, but what I want more than anything else is in 20 years to look across the dining room at Maggie, smile to my sons and daughters, and say "I retired yesterday from the ring, and I never did anything that would keep you from being proud of me." So, Luke Steele, Scott Rogers, my friends, if I have to I'll beat you in the ring and if I have to hurt you, I'll do it. But I _will not_ do it unfairly, I _will not_ do it unduly, and I _will not_ do it from behind your back. And it won't be personal. I expect you to do the same to me. Now, I also wanted to talk about Nightwing, but frankly, I'm too beat up to give a damn at the moment. We'll play Cowboys and Indians some other time. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Nightwing ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Nightwing paces back and forth in the IIWF interview area.] NW: Ronnie Paris... you wanted my respect?  Okay, you've got it.  You had the guts to challenge me all night and delivered some good blows.     But, Paris, you've also gotten my attention... and that's your     mistake.  When you look around at your supposed "friends", what do you see?  Wolves in sheep's clothing?  Who can you trust, Ronnie Paris?     We'll soon find out! [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Highwayman ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Adam Smith, the Highwayman, stands in the IIWF interview area.] HWM: The "Unholy Alliance",  "The Epitome of Evil",  "The Master of Darkness",  Pathetic.  Our paths crossed on Saturday and I have little doubt they will meet again.  I saw in Deathbringer, a man that _used_ to be feared, _used_ to be respected, and _used_ to win.  Now I see a man who is desparate, a man whose road is so convoluted and twisted that he dosn't know where he is going, a man that looks to the unpredicatable for assistance because he knows that the light of Genesis is about to engulf his darkness forever.  Deathbringer, your time has passed, go quitely and allow us to remember you when you were great, rather than the pale shadow of a man you have become.  Leave the path, Deathbringer, and take your place in the hall of legends, before we are forced to retire you to the Jobber Justice Squad. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Pain Inc. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Mr. Mic storms into the IIWF interview area, knocking down every object within sight. He scowls into the camera and barely manages to keep his voice below a shout:] MM: What a bunch of crap! Now the IIWF sanctions tables to be used in matches? Where is Owens when you need him? Disciples, it seems that you obviously needs these objects to beat Pain Inc. Two on two you can't beat us! Now it seems to get to you again we have to annihilate the Hollywood Bloods on Wednesday. All we have to do is run through a second-rate team and we get another chance at you idiots? Bring the Bloods, bring the Disciples, hell, bring Claw and James. Pain Inc. rules the IIWF... bottom line. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Dark Disciples ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Taped after Saturday night. The camera pans around the locker room area, showing a scene of unparalleled disorder. The lockers have been ripped from the walls and crumpled in, their contents spilled all over the room; chunks of rubble that seem to have been ripped from the very walls are scattered across the floor, and there is nothing left of the benches but a pile of splinters. Bobby B. Goode is hanging unconscious from one of the coatpegs like a bag of bones, and Scott "the Whine" Bloom's head appears to be jammed in one of the lockers, from which can dimly be heard sobs of "help!". Don McQueen walks into the shot.] DM: Well, you guys certainly missed the fireworks. After their match with Pain Inc., Kane and Wulf ripped through here like a full force hurricane, and they damn well had a right to! I've never seen my boys this angry before -- I don't think _I've_ ever been this angry, and let me tell you, Don McQueen is a very short-tempered man! Brian Lau, you backstabbing son of a bitch! I've been pissed off with your shoddy organisation ever since you brought that moronic Mr. Mic and his dimwits in, but from the goodness of my heart I stuck with ya' and gave ya' the chance to rebuild the Syndicate into the force it once was! This is how ya' repay me you [BLEEP]! You send your goons out to humiliate me? ME? Don McQueen? The real brains behind the Syndicate for all the time I was there? Well let me tell ya' somethin' punk! I WILL NEVER FORGET HOW YOU HUMILIATED ME! Brian Lau, you and your goons are about to find out why you never [BLEEP] around with Don McQueen! EVER! [Don McQueen turns to leave, all in a rage. As he goes he kicks the trapped Scott Bloom viciously in the backside. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hollywood Bloods ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The Hollywood Bloods come down the interview platform.  Doug Wayne looks at the IIWF banner, takes a releiving breath of air and smiles.] WAYNE: Well, it looks like the IIWf is finally getting back on track.  The suits are finally bringing in some competition.  The road to Coranation Clash looks like it's gonna be for the record books and the Hollywood Bloods are going to be right in the thick of things with this big tag tourney. WATSON: I am once again proud to belong to the IIWF.  The recent low ratings should be a thing of the past.  This is what wrestling is all about. Competition.  Not clowns running around cheap shotting each other.  That was the message we were trying to get across the past few weeks. WAYNE: The Hollywood Bloods are going to be in everyone's face showing we're the biggest and baddest hombres in the IIWF.  Pain Inc., it looks like you two sorry ex-gang members have about a week left of walking because I guarantee the only way you're leaving the ring after our match is on your back. WATSON: Then we'll show all the other teams that end up in our way, New Generation or Old, just what it's like to get in the ring with real athletes. As I always say, "they're all victims to us" [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Violence Unlimited ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade to Violence Unlimited, in front of an IIWF interview banner. Mutilator is wearing a black IIWF t-shirt and jeans, and his mask which covers his face with crossing leather straps. Jaguar, the smaller of the two men, is wearing a tank top to show off his muscularity, and a pair of black Champion shorts.  They stand for a second, before starting to speak.] MUTILATOR [M]: On this Saturday's show, Violence Unlimited gets to meet the Cold Spell.  For a while now, this war has been fought, and it all has been in the name of pride.  The winner of the match gets their pride, the loser gets nothing.  The loser is left with an empty soul, one that shows their weaknesses, and leaves vulnerability.  And, from what we now hear, the winner gets a tag team title shot. JAGUAR [J]: The titles are something we have always lusted for, and are the reason for our presence in the IIWF on this day.  Every team wants the ecstacy of a victorious fight, not the agony of a loss and the tragedy of a spot lost in the ranking ladder of the IIWF. M: For this match, Violence Unlimited will truly be on top of their game. We are making a promise to the Cold Spell that this match will be a brutal fight, one that the true new blood of the federation will win.  There is no room for falsified pretentiousness.  There is only room for the best of the new generation.  And the fakes are thrown by the wayward. J: I guess it's goodbye for the Cold Spell, and their antarctic life.  We feel no chill, we feel the heat of combat, and the adrenalin that shall lead to victory. M: We pray, Cold Spell, that you shall be prepared.  We know we are.  Gold is the driving force of the true men... and with a loss we prove that the childish antics of Genesis truly are those of the little boys. J: Fear us...and fear our painful combat.  We shall prove superior, Cold Spell.  This, we vow.  We might just not wait... we know we can find you before then. M: See ya Saturday... if you make it that far.  The REAL new blood is prepared. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Cold Spell ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Edmund Fitzgerald wanders into the IIWF interview room after serving as a lumberjack.] FITZ: Well, that was certainly a fiasco. I think Requiem and Deathbringer spent more time in the ring than Brody or Casey did. And now there is going to be another tournament. Let the backstabbing begin. [At this point, Icehawk comes in from the side of the studio, looking upset.] HAWK: What's going on here? I thought we were a team! FITZ: What are you talking about? HAWK: They just said on TV that the lumberjacks are going to be the       entrants in the championship tourney. I thought we agreed that       you wrestling singles was a one-time thing, just for fun. Now,       I'm getting ready to go after the tag team belts, and you are       worrying about being a lumberjack, and wrestling for the world       title again! You are the one that always bitches at me for being       unfocussed ... but now you want to be a singles champion *and*       a tag champion! FITZ: Calm down. Not only am I not worried about the tournament, I'm       positive I won't even be in it. HAWK: But they said that ... FITZ: Just listen, okay? There were twenty-eight lumberjacks, and we already know that Kid Ego, Cowboy Curtis and the two ESWP guys are coming, right? [Icehawk nods.] FITZ: That's already 32. But we know that this new Kevin Whatshisname       is going to wrestle, and I'm sure Brody and Scumhead will get to       be in the tourney, so there are three lumberjacks who won't get       to be in it. And anyone with half a brain can figure out who it       will be. HAWK: [pauses] You and the Harlequins. FITZ: Exactly. So don't worry about me abandoning you for a singles       career. The only thing I'm thinking about right now is getting       Violence Unlimited in a fair match - not some street-fight cage       brawl. You two call yourselves wrestlers - beat us in a wrestling       match. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Real Deal" Luke Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade up to the Rock And Roll Hall of Fame in downtown Cleveland, Ohio. The sun is shining and the city is abuzz with talk of the IIWF.  Posters are up all around the area, beckoning people to go to see IIWF Saturday Night at the Gund Arena.  A man has his back turned to the camera, taking in the sights.  He is wearing a black leather jacket and an Indians ball cap, when he turns around and faces the camera.  It is the face of a native Clevelander, it is the "Real Deal" Luke Steele.] LS: Hey out there to all the baby dolls of the IIWF.  I've waited a long time to be able to compete in front of my hometown crowd, and the IIWF has finally brought me home.  I live in New York City, the big apple.  But this place has been and always will be home to me. Now, on to business at hand.  Scott Rogers, what is goin' through your mind, man?  You sat there and watched me get pummeled, and not until Ronnie Paris came out and saved me from the beating of a lifetime did you move a muscle that didn't involve that woman who you claim just "had a ticket for your seat."  Boy, is that an understatement.  Then on Saturday Night, suddenly we're the biggest pals in the world. Listen Scotty, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt; after all you and I are fairly new to the squared circle and haven't really had much opportunity to gauge situations before.  I've said it before but it bears repeating -- Ronnie Paris, thanks for bailing me out.  We don't always see eye to eye, but when it comes down to it I'd take your abilities to back me up any day. GENESIS, your path is getting clearer and clearer with each passing day. It's obvious by these attacks that you want to replace the Syndicate as top dogs of the gang wars.  Well you've still got a way to go, but trust me, baby dolls, judging by the fans' reactions to you, that target is being reached ever so quickly.  Proud of yourselves, boys?  We'll see if you still are after Coronation Clash. Speaking of the big dance, the Real Deal's got the same chance as the Brody Thunders, the Casey James, and the Joe Petrows to walk out that night as the IIWF World Champion.  Oh, and incidentally Brody Thunder won that match last weekend.  But anyways, who'd have thought that the Real Deal, a rookie by all measuring sticks, could get the chance to go for the top so soon? And I plan to use everything I've got to try and get to the top of the mountain. It won't be easy, but with a little luck I think I can do it.  I don't even know if I'm going to get the chance to wrestle in Cleveland, but you can believe that I'll be present on Saturday Night. Bank on it, baby dolls, the Real Deal is home. [Fade out on Steele as he turns back to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame once more, admiring a jumpsuit once worn by Elvis.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+