["New York, New York" as sung by Frank Sinatra begins to play as varied shots of New York tourist attractions are cycled through on screen... The Statue of Liberty... Rockefeller Center... Central Park... The big Silvercup sign... Madison Square Garden... Finally, the shot focuses in on the Manhattan Center, and the music fades into something darker. The chilling tones of "Black Sabbath," complete with rainfall, begins to play as scenes from last week's first round matches fly by. Finally, shots of some of the scheduled competitors for Saturday Night scuttle about the screen: Casey James training with Tiger Claw; Chris Quigley battling it out with Otto Verhoeven; the entire team of Genesis walking down the aisle. As the music picks up, the screen explodes into the familiar logo...]                  #####     ######   ###            ##########              ########## ########## ####       ##  ##########              ########## ########## ####  #   #### ########                #####      #####    #### ##  ##### ####                 ####       ####    #### ### ####  ####                 ####       ####    ############# #########                 ####       ####     ########### #########                 ####       ####     ####  ####   ####              #########  #########   ###   ####   ####              #########  #########   ###    ##    ####               ########   ########   ##      #    ####              =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ## =-=-=-=                INTERNATIONAL INTERNET WRESTLING FEDERATION             =================================================               "COUNTDOWN TO SATURDAY NIGHT" - July 4, 1997             ================================================= [Shot of fireworks going off behind the Stature of Liberty as a brass band plays "The Star Spangled Banner." The shot rests on the display for a few moments, catching the pyrotechnic display in all it's glory, then zooms in on the crown of the statue. The shot fades to one of Larry Morton and Jackson Witt sitting at a desk with many IIWF fans watching on.] LM: Hello, IIWF fans, and welcome to another edition of Countdown to     Saturday Night! We're coming to you from what many believe to be the     symbol of all that's American, the Statue of Liberty! Tonight, we'll     give you all the inside information on the events that will take     place tomorrow night in the second batch of first round matchups for     the Coronation Clash tournament along with interviews with all of     your favourite IIWF stars. JW: What about Bluto? Is he back this week? LM: Actually, Jackson, no... Bluto unfortunately failed to make a     lasting impression on our production staff, so we'll have a look at     another new segment on our show today. JW: Who's next? El Super Gecko with the lowdown on the reptilian views     of the tournament? Or maybe we'll have Scott "The Whine" Bloom in to     complain about why he's not in the tournament... How about getting     Jumpin' Jack in here? LM: Not the clown... Anything but the clown... JW: He's not the only clown... LM: Okay, so we had a great night of action in the War Room this past     Wednesday, so why don't we take a look at the highlights and results     of those matchups? [The Recap graphics rise onto the screen as the "1812 Overture" begins to play. The final moments of the matches are played with the results superimposed on the bottom of the screen.] ======================================================================== ----------------------WEDNESDAY-WAR-ROOM-RECAP-------------------------- ======================================================================== Results from Wednesday War Room - July 2, 1997 1. Scott Rogers def. Scott "the Whine" Bloom via pinfall 2. "Enigma" Takezo Musashi def. "Majestic" Maurice McArthur via pinfall 3. "Sychosys" Joe Petrow def. El Super Gecko via pinfall 4. Highwayman def. Bobby B. Goode via pinfall 5. Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven def. Jumpin' Jack via pinfall 6. The Machines def. Licensed for Devastation by countout 7. Hollywood Bloods def Pain Inc. by DQ    [winners face Dark Disciples on July 12 at Coronation Clash] ======================================================================== LM: There was more to the card than that, though... The Enigma was     harassed once again by Joe Petrow during his match. Petrow seems to     be taking a strange approach to this particular battle. JW: He sounds more like a therapist than a wrestler when it comes to     Musashi. I don't know what Petrow is planning with all of this, but     that's not strange, considering that nobody but Petrow himself     usually knows what he's thinking. LM: That wasn't the end of Petrow's performance, however. In his match     against El Super Gecko, he had some words for Billy Shakespeare, who     made an appearance. The two stared each other down, with Petrow     breaking off first. Shakespeare responded by taking a few snapshots     of the Sychopaths. This one baffles me as well. JW: That comes as no surprise... To be frank, though, Shakespeare's     actions after the whole Spur fiasco have been a little difficult to     nail down. I'm pretty sure it will all make sense in the end,     however. LM: Later on in the night, Verhoeven decimated his opponent, only to     have Creed come out later and call out Lord Byron for comments made     on our Monday Musings show. Lord Byron came out to answer the     challenge along with partner Verhoeven, and the two proceeded to lay     a vicious beating that could have ended up injuring the young star     had it not been for Mad Dog Watkins and Ike Sampson making the save. JW: Although the attack was cut short, Creed took some nasty bumps     thanks to a few Verhoeven chokeslams onto a chair. While Creed had     to be helped on the way backstage, we are told he is fine as far as     his health is concerned. However, he has been asked by IIWF     officials to not even show up tomorrow night at the Manhattan     Center. The IIWF administration feels that Creed would only serve to     disrupt the match between Quigley and Verhoeven that is to happen     tomorrow since it is likely that Lord Byron will accompany Verhoeven     to the ring. LM: It might be nice to see a clean match between Quigley and Verhoeven     to lay the bickering to rest once and for all, but I think that to     ensure that, the IIWF officials need to ban Byron from the building     as well. Speaking of bickering, the new tag blood in the IIWF didn't     take long to start in on each other. The Nightriders blatantly     caused the countout of Licensed for Devastation. JW: I'm sure that these guys just want to make a name for themselves     here in the IIWF, and feuds are the way to go. Let's just try and     keep it clean, okay guys? LM: [The scene opens to the faces of Reggie Starr and Jonathan Chaos, nearly plastered to the camera...the camera backs out and they are revealed to be at a street corner.  Reggie is wearing black baggy jeans and a black t-shirt which is dirtied and has the "IIWF" logo upon it.  He also has an "LFD" hat covering his head.  Jonathan Chaos is wearing slim sunglasses, blue jeans, and a sleeveless plain white t-shirt.  Reggie shakes his head back and forth and speaks.] RS: Damnit, why can't you just leave us alone?  Yeah we lost, is that enough?! JC: Calm down, Reggie, this'll be a good place to let out our frustration. RS: There isn't a town in the world big enough for me to let out my frustration in, big man.  They'd need to blow up Owens' ego tenfold, then stick in under a microscope and look at it to see a tenth of my frustration. JC: Truedat.  I'll talk then.  Nightriders, J.P. Steele, Jimmy Hawk... you two have pissed us off.  Now, you have two pissed off bad-asses from Baltimore looking for you for execution...good job. RS: That was a well thought out plan, guys, now you're royally screwed.  Congrats. JC: So, we've got a promise for you.  This very Saturday, we will deal with you.  We'll make sure that you realize what Licensed for Devastation are really all about... and it'll be a cold day in hell before we let you tie up Reggie to the ground ever again. [Reggie and Jonathan cross the street, and at the other side, stop and speak to the camera again.] RS: You know what _really_ gets me? JC: What? RS: The fact that the Nightriders think that they can get away with tying me down and costing us our debut... and the fact that the Machines even took that victory when they knew that we were going to win anyway. JC: Whatever, man.  Let me just say this: Machines, Nightriders, there's gonna be hell to pay, and we're collecting fees A.S.A.P. [Reggie takes off his hat, and reveals his curly puffy dirty blonde hair.] RS: [running his hand through his hair.] Pain is about to placed into effect. [Reggie and Jonathan continue walking and the camera fades to black.] LM: Finally, in a match that fulfilled out promises of a brutal affair,     the Hollywood Bloods defeated Pain Inc. due to a disqualification     when Pain Inc. attempted to use a table as part of their offense. JW: Which means that The Bloods will face the Disciples at the Clash.     The Bloods have started to show a mean streak, so I'm wondering who     will come out on top of that encounter. LM: We'll have to wait until the Coronation Clash Pay Per View to find     out. In the meantime, though, we have a card tomorrow night at the     Manhattan Center right here in New York City! Let's take a look at     that lineup... ======================================================================== -----------------------SATURDAY-NIGHT-PREVIEW--------------------------- ======================================================================== Schedule for Saturday Night - July 5, 1997 1. [GROUP A] Casey "Blackheart" James vs. Tiger Claw 2. [GROUP D] Requiem vs. Scott Rogers 3. [GROUP C] Tony Starks vs. Mr. Damage 4. [GROUP A] "Enigma" Takezo Musashi vs. Kevin "Cavalier" Christiansen 5. IIWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH:    Prophets of Rage [c] vs. The Harlequins    [winners face Cold Spell on July 12 at Coronation Clash] 6. [GROUP C] Dirt Dog Unique Allah vs. Serge Annis 7. [GROUP D] Highwayman vs. Nightwing 8. [GROUP B] "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare vs. "Sychosys" Joe Petrow 9. [GROUP B] Chris Quigley vs. Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven ======================================================================== LM: Once this one is said and done, it's on to the Pay Per View     extravaganza of the Coronation Clash! JW: A lot of friendships stand to be broken tomorrow night... LM: That's for sure. However, there's also some really hot matches in store with some feuds coming to a boil... Let's take a look at this one match by match. ---------------------------------------------------- 1. [GROUP A] Casey "Blackheart" James vs. Tiger Claw ---------------------------------------------------- LM: This is one of the most talked-about first round matches in the     IIWF. You've got stablemates Casey James and Tiger Claw facing each     other in the ring. Not only that, you've got one guy who's put his     mark on the IIWF World title already, and another guy who's put his     mark on the IC title. JW: And they maintain that they are very good friends, a relationship     brought on by the fact that James was a student of Tiger Claw. It     was that training, of course, that brought James to the World Title     in the first place. LM: Let's face it, though. With the track record of these two men, being     friends means absolutely nothing. James turned his back on the Man of Steel almost a year ago, Claw pretended to befriend Subway Psycho, only to hit him with a cast... I think these guys are about as trustworthy as... Well, a very untrustworthy thing... JW: Eloquent as always, Larry. On to the facts, though... Brian Lau is     not happy about this match, as was evident by his comments on     Wednesday. Rumors of the Syndicate leaving the IIWF for another     federation have popped up, but this reporter is led to believe that     these rumors are false. To the best of my knowledge, James and Claw     _will_ get into the ring on Saturday. Like them or hate them, this     promises to be a great match. LM: We were hoping to get an interview with the two men involved in this     match, but they refused to meet with out camera crews. Apparently,     both men accuse every IIWF broadcaster - excluding Steve Roberts -     of causing trouble, and allowing rumors to become truth. I for one     am offended by these remarks. Anyway, Jackson, who do you think     Brian will stab in the back to get the other man ahead in the     tournament? JW: Hard to say. I think that Brian will side with Tiger Claw. They came     here together, with James as an add-on later. Brian and Claw have a     history deeper than the one with James. Besides, James is American     born, and we know how Lau feels about Americans. I think James will     be left out in the cold if Lau is forced to choose between the two. LM: I guess we'll find out tomorrow night... ------------------------------------- 2. [GROUP D] Requiem vs. Scott Rogers ------------------------------------- LM: This one also promises to be an interesting match up. Rogers, part     of the apparent alliance with Luke Steele, Paris that Steve Roberts     nicknamed the White Flight... JW: Nah, nah... Cracker Pack. That's catchy... You like that, Steve?     Cracker Pack. LM: Ummm... Okay... Anyway, Rogers is part of that group, but some sort     of business seems to be going on between Rogers and Genesis. I'm not     sure if it's a personal rivalry or if Rogers strives to be a part of     the stable. I'd have to say Rogers is a big question mark in this     one, and his comments in this next interview don't help. Let's take     a look... [Scott Rogers stands before an IIWF backdrop with Steve Summer. Rogers is wearing a bottle green 'IIWF Crew' tee-shirt and luminous pink baggy pants. His face is clean shaven and, as is becoming customary, he has a smile on his face. Summer looks up to him and commences the interview:] SS: Scott, tomorrow night you're in what's surely the biggest match of     your short career so far... SR: You could say that, Steve. It's certainly my biggest match in the     IIWF. I gave Requiem a look at what was comin' to him tomorrow when     I took him apart on Wednesday in the War Room. He was there,     watching, and I know for a fact he was both impressed, and scared. SS: How? SR: I saw it in his eyes, Steve... SS: But he was standing a good fifty feet away. You must have _some_     eyesight. SR: What you tryin' to say, Steve? You askin' me if I've been speakin'     with him? If the rumors Dross is spreading are true? SS: Not at all. You're reading more into what I'm saying than there     actually is. I know you, Ronnie and Luke have formed a strong     alliance and I for one couldn't be happier! SR: That's right, Steve. I believe we've been called the White Flight     or some crap like that. I ain't too concerned about all this name     and gimmick crap everyone seems to wanna shove down our throats but     if it gets us noticed, that can only be a good thing. SS: But of course Ronnie and Luke are raising a few eyebrows now     they're both in the second round, the Sweet Sixteen. SR: Yeah, and I'll be joinin' 'em like I said Monday. SS: Then you'll be facing Luke. You realize that, right? SR: Sure! Me and Luke talked about it just yesterday you know. It's     like Highwayman and Nightwing. Two friends against each other, both     wannin' the win but wannin' to keep the friendship. Luke understands     that when I beat him, it ain't nothin' personal. SS: _When_ you beat him? Don't you mean 'if'? You haven't even got     through yet! And even if you do, Luke may still put out the win. SR: Yeah, whatever. _If_ I beat Luke, he'll know it ain't nothin'     personal. How's that? SS: Heh. I like that! SR: Good. SS: I do feel you may be overlooking Requiem however. Leader of     Genesis. Only lost a handful of matches. He's surely going to be     difficult to beat. SR: Listen, Summer, we've already been over this. There's no way I'm     losin' to Requiem. Trust me. SS: But... SR: But nothin'. Everyone knows the first round's always the easiest in     any sport, and this ain't no different. SS: Well, surely it is.... SR: No, Summer, it ain't. SS: Okay... sorry. SR: Forget it. SS: Before I go, Scott, I've got to ask you. Am I standing next to the     next IIWF World Champion? SR: I'd be lyin' if I said I'm not in with a fightin' chance, Steve. I     am. But whether I can go all the way, through thirty two of the     finest, I dare not say. Let's put it this way, hopefully you are. If     not, it ain't the enda the world. There's plenty more time for me to     take this place apart. If it ain't during Coronation Clash, you can     count on it being afterward. [At that, Rogers leaves the area.] SS: Thank you... Scott Rogers, everybody. [Fade.] LM: I don't know where to put him, you know? JW: Don't put him anywhere... Why not let him do his thing and see what     happens? I don't doubt that Rogers has what it takes to be champ     here one day. Maybe his day is July 12... Who knows? As far as his     loyalties are concerned... Well, I guess we'll just have to see. LM: Another man who is a favourite in this tournament is Requiem, who     will be facing Rogers. I hope Rogers gets it into his head that     Requiem is a threat, because Requiem is focused. Take a look... [SCENE: A desert road at the dead of night. The unlit road stretches far into the distance, menaced by dark storm clouds high overhead. Suddenly the tranquility of the night is spoiled by the roar of an engine and the bright beam of a motorcycle headlight as a black Harley-Davidson speeds past the camera, driven by the Herald Of Damnation, Requiem] R: [voice-over] Since coming to the IIWF I have faced many in the    squared circle... [Roiling storm clouds twist overhead, shaping themselves into the shadowy faces of top IIWF superstars.] R: The Hangman and his cronies... Shinja Chow... Serge Annis... The    Subway Psycho... Derek Mota... Deathbringer... Creed... the list    goes on. In the ring,one on one, no man has ever pinned me or forced    my submission. With few exceptions, I have been victorious. [Lightning splits the sky, obliterating the faces overhead. A crack of Thunder echoes throughout the heavens as two faces form, those of the sneering Casey James and the snarling "Lone Wolf", Brody Thunder.] R: And now the IIWF Heavyweight Championship scene has changed    dramatically. At Coronation Clash the IIWF championship belt is    there for the taking, if a man possesses the ability to seize it. [Sheet lightning shatters the sky, the image of Scott Rogers forming amidst the furious heavens] R: All that stands in my way are five men. Five men who have no    comprehension of what they face when they stand against The Herald    Of Damnation... [The Harley passes a roadsign and then crosses the horizon, fading from sight as the clouds unleash thunder and lightning.] R: Scott Rogers, tomorrow night you will be helpless to prevent the    Angel of Destruction turning your brightest dreams into your darkest    nightmares! [The camera angle changes, focusing in on the roadsign and zooming in to reveal "IIWF Heavyweight Championship... Five Men". Requiem's final words, whispered into the night sky, can be heard as if from a distance...] R: And I will be closer to the end of this journey... [Fade out] LM: Wow. I'm thinking of Requiem as the champ... Not a bad choice. JW: The guy's got talent, yes. But has he logged the ring time that some     of the other men have? No. Yes, it's nice to come in and say the new     generation is taking over, but when it comes down to it, the IIWF     definitely takes some getting used to. This isn't some bush-league.     This is the pinnacle of wrestling entertainment, and you've got to     be something special to make it here. Requiem has the talent, but     he's got to do the time. LM: I don't know... Requiem has proven himself against some of the     toughest here in the IIWF. I think he's got a shot. --------------------------------------- 3. [GROUP C] Tony Starks vs. Mr. Damage --------------------------------------- LM: This match is almost a blessing, as we've seen Damage and Starks get     on each other's cases in the past couple of weeks. It would seem as     if this match gets overlooked, though. JW: I have no idea why. Starks went all the way to the final match in     last year's Clash, and would have won had it not been for "Horsemen     tactics" coming into play. With all that Starks has been through in     the following year, I think he's got what it takes to wear that     gold. LM: I think Starks would agree with you based on this interview that we     shot here in Starks' home town, New York City... [SCENE: Staten Island, New York, noon. People are all over the streets walking around and conversing. The sound of police sirens can be heard easily. The camera focuses in on a little black kid riding his bike, he rides past a section of the street where Tony Starks, Raheem Coles and many of their other friends stand around or sit on the hoods of their cars. Coles and Starks are seated beside each other and the whole group just take in the sounds of Wu Tang Clan coming from Coles car. Finally, the camera closes in on Coles and Starks as they begin to speak.] RC: Ayo, Starks, this is it, first round and your road to the world     title starts back where it all started for all of us: New York     (Starks nods). You got that cat Damage in the first and your     road to the prize goes right through him and everybody else in     the tournament. TS: Word up, stuff is the way it used to be, I got my mind right, I     got my gameplan down etched in stone, know what I'm sayin? I want     to holler at Damage real quick, hell, this goes out to all the     other wrestlers out there too: I been tellin ya'll for the past     weeks, it's on, people sleepin' on me, the announcers ain't even     listin' me as a favorite to win. But look here, don't none of     that matter, what happens in the ring, that is all on me what the     announcers or them experts think, or even the fans dont make a     damn bit of difference, I am still gonna lay waste to anyone that     looks at me wrong... RC: That's what I'm sayin', that is the Starks that I know, you gotta     remember who the hell you are, where you come from, all the     trials and tribulations that you went through to get where you     are right now. All that stuff that didn't kill you, that made you     stronger. Any other man, see he would have been put down by all     the trife that happened but you came back baby, that world title     is what has been fueling you since that damn plane wreck, you     lost who you was in that war with them Euro's but now, you know     what you gotta do. TS: No doubt, no doubt. It is my time to shine, baby, it is time for     a new reign of terror to come over the IIWF and it is gonna get     headed up by me, right here. Ain't nothin' gonna stop me from     reachin' the top. I been strivin' for it for so long, I am gonna     make it, I can feel it, even in the air. Mr. Damage and all the     other cats in the IIWF, this is my time and your time just ran     out...nothin' is gonna stop me from gettin' mine. RC: That's what I wanna hear, Starks, for real. You wanna talk bout     blood runnin cold? That is Starks, ice cold, methodical and got     all eyes focused on the prize: the IIWF World Title. TS: Ain't no doubt, anyone who faces me, you gonna get real up close     and personal with some personal friends of mine: pain and horror     ayo, it's time... [The camera shot get larger as Starks and his people agree and talk. The shot fades as an odd mix of sirens and street beats echo out.] LM: Starks has hometown advantage, that's for sure. You've got to     believe that the fans that will be at the Manhattan Center will be     behind him all the way. JW: I have to say that even if they weren't, Starks would give this     match his all. However, we all know the style of Mr. Damage. He     tends to pick out an area and work it over. Starks has plenty of     spots for someone like that to focus on. His knee, damaged by the     Outlaw last year... His back, injured in that tragic plane crash     that took the life of his friend, "The Machine" Hunter Robertson.     I'd have to say that if Starks can get by Damage, that's great. If     he can make it to the end again, that's justice. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- 4. [GROUP A] "Enigma" Takezo Musashi vs. Kevin "Cavalier" Christiansen ---------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: A man who truly lives up to his moniker takes on a newcomer tomorrow     night when Takezo Musashi takes on Kevin Christiansen. How does this     one look to you, Jackson? JW: Well, it would seem that Christiansen embodies all that the Enigma     used to represent: Honour. Although they're from two different     cultures entirely, The Cavalier is almost a carbon copy of the     Enigma of old. Musashi has since turned his back on those ways, and     instead looks to his rage to fuel him. LM: Sounds like Star Wars... JW: I'm sure it does, Larry. We got these comments from Kevin     Christiansen... [Scene opens in a great hall, with a huge, round oak table dominating the center, and tapestries hung from the ceiling.  Full suits of armor line the walls, and Kevin "The Cavalier" Christiansen sits perched in a chair in front of the camera.] KC: Well-met, once again.  'Tis an honor and a privilege that one     as new as myself might be considered for the IIWF World     Championship Tournament.  'Tis a gift I shall, indeed, make     the most of in the weeks to come. [Christiansen nods his head, slightly, in a motion of thanks and respect to the matchmakers.] KC: It appears that mine first opponent is one "Enigma" Takezo     Musashi.  Tell me this, mine friend... who is more the Enigma?     I have seen thy matches, and I have seen thy tapes... thou art     skilled indeed, but an Enigma?  Methinks that overstates thy     position a small bit.  However, tell me this, Musashi... what     dost thou know of me?  Thy words prove that thou art sorely     misinformed on mine views, and thou hast seen perhaps one     match, in which the mine abilities were barely utilized to     gain the victory in the end.  Who, indeed, is the Enigma here? [The Cavalier smiles for a moment, as if to convey the sentiment of "it isn't you."] KC: You say that I shalt "see how my honor matches your anger."  I     say to thee, there is no comparison.  Thou hast known honor,     by thy own words, and thou hast spoiled on it.  'Tis a     disgrace, one who turns thine back on honor and embraces     rage.  Do as you will, Musashi, and I shall as well.  In the     end, honor shall prevail. [Christiansen reaches off camera, and lifts a broadsword into view. He hefts it for a moment, then continues to speak.] KC: And think not that thy dances with thy blade should serve to     ward me off, Musashi.  Thou shalt see that the edge on mine     Broadsword rivals that of any other, and that mine skill with     it is excellent, indeed.  Come Saturday night, you shall feel     this edge, and know that thou hast been bested by the     Cavalier. [Christiansen points the sword at the camera, and the scene fades to black.] LM: He's not going to hack up Musashi, is he? JW: I don't think so, Larry. It's a metaphor. The Broadsword is also his     finisher. The Cavalier has a point, though. He is a virtual unknown     here in the IIWF, and if he has the skills to take advantage of     that, then he may very well pull a victory out of this one. However,     Musashi may surprise a few fans, along with Christiansen, with     unexpected tactics, and that surprise could get him the match. Very     hard to call... LM: I like the Cavalier. A fine, upstanding young man. The Enigma, well,     he hasn't been too nice as of late, so I don't know. JW: Really, Larry? And I'm the one worrying about my job, huh? ----------------------------------------------------------- 5. IIWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH:    Prophets of Rage [c] vs. The Harlequins    [winners face Cold Spell on July 12 at Coronation Clash] ----------------------------------------------------------- LM: Again, we take a break from the tournament with a tag team match...     This one for the IIWF tag team titles! The Harlequins have earned the right to face the Prophets of Rage for the title, but will they     succeed in their quest? The Prophets don't think so... [Fade in:  The Prophets of Rage stand against the backdrop of Hell's Kitchen.  Derek and Shadoe seem cool and indifferent to their surroundings.  There's a slight breeze ruffling through the air, it stirs Shadoe's hair slightly, causing his blousy pirate shirt to ripple.] DR: Send in the clowns one last time.  Harlequins, come on up to the     plate.  Let's see if you can hit the home run ball.  Everybody knows     I love a challenge and you two have been a challenge, but sometimes     things get a little old.  And you're definitely becoming that.  How     many times must me meet you and turn you back?  This is going to be     the time, Harlequins.  This is going to be the clinic.  We've toyed     with you before. Now we're just going to outdo you.  One thing about     the IIWF is this. It changed to meet our needs.  It became vicious     and underhanded because we were vicious and underhanded.  It changed     its rules because of us. Do you think you've had as much impact?     No.  Look at our record.  We are the best tag-team out there, bar     none.  And it isn't by chance.  So, don't get too comfortable with     the idea that you're going to come away from this match with the     belts, because you won't.  There are still a million other     challenges out there for us to face.  The Syndicate still lurks out     there in whatever form it's going to take, there is Cold Spell, new     teams coming up.  And we intend to face them and defend our     championship against them. I promise you that. SR: Tragedy, Chaos.  They may measure your careers by your performance     against the Prophets of Rage, but we will not be measured by you.     No, we won't.  Because we're entering a new phase of our careers.     We're switching gears once more and the Prophets of Rage will show     the world exactly why we are the best and most dominant team in the     world.  You can't beat us.  You can't even put a dent in us.     Tragedy, you aren't good enough to outwrestle either of us.  Chaos,     boy, you've got something wrong in your head.  I know.  I can feel     it.  We're kindred spirits you and I, boy.  But you are just too     young and too inexperienced to compete at the level of the Angel of     Death.  It was written a long time ago that the Angel of Death     should be the ruler of this mortal plane and I've come to do just     that.  You hear me?  I've come to do just that with the Hammer of     God at my side.  There won't be anything we won't do in the IIWF.     And there's no telling when we'll lose these belts. DR: Nobody can beat us but ourselves.  And we haven't done that yet.  We     haven't got bored with being champions yet.  No, we've got all the     energy and all the juice still.  In fact, we haven't even shown you     half our talent yet.  The Prophets of Rage aren't all brute force.     We may show you finesse too.  It's time for the Prophets to show you     what we're really about and what we can really do. SR: Yeah, I know a lot of you thought we was finished when they took     Pizzazz from us, but we don't need her like Chaos needs Melody to     calm his frayed nerves, to soothe his tattered psyche.  Clowns,     bring your bag of tricks.  We'll bring ours.  Except, we won't need     a happy hammer.  All we need is the rage in our guts, that feeling     of power and anger when someone has the audacity to try to take     what's ours. DR: That's the joy of coming from a wrestling family.  You see when     everybody is doing bad and you see when everybody is doing good.     You learn from their failures and successes.  Harlequins, we've been     learning about when to turn it on and when to turn it off.  We came     to this federation just brutal.  Fighting, beating you all because     we knew we could.  We marched through everybody.  Well, now we're     spiralling back to Earth.  We've lost and drawn some matches that we     should have one.  It showed us that our focus was missing.  The     brawling wasn't doing us as well.  No, Harlequins, now it's time to     really wrestle.  Now it's time to really show you what the Prophets     of Rage can do. SR: Now it's time to make you _Die in Darkness!_ [Fade out] LM: There's no questions that the Prophets of Rage have helped the     IIWF's tag scene get better, but changed it to meet their needs? I     don't know. The tag scene looked like a Super Sunday Madness Sale at     K-Mart even before the Prophets came in... JW: Why doesn't it surprise me that you know what a sale at K-Mart looks     like? The Harlequins are training hard for this coming match, and     Tim Dross... well, _tried_ to get some comments from them... [SCENE: The old amusement park we are all so familiar with. Tim Dross stands fumbling with the camera.] TD: I can't believe that he left me here! "Do it yourself" he says. Why I oughtta... [The camera stops fumbling as Tim Dross looks surprised at something behind it.] TD: Oh, Hello Chaos. HCh: Hi Mr. Dross. Having problems? TD: What? Oh...no it's really nothing. Can I get a word with you? HCh: [pauses] I dunno. Trag told me to get back to the training room     quickly, and he gets mad when I'm late. TD: Okay then, I'll just take my camera and... HCh: I don't think so. TD: What? HCh: No one enters the Workshop without permission, especially the     press. TD: Oh come on! HCh: Sorry Tim. Be sure to cover that thing up. It's supposed to rain. [Chaos begins to walk away.] TD: But what about the critics saying that you and Tragedy will never     beat the Prophets. [Chaos stops and turns around, looking very angry.] HCh: Never? Did you just say never? Let me tell you something "Timmy"     Those World Tag Team Titles RIGHTFULLY belong to us! My brother gave up his singles career in hopes of winning the World Title so we can win those belts. I have to undergo some painful treatments to keep myself focused in the ring to win those belts. Comedy and Melody have both had to undergo physical and mental hardships just to keep us on track to win those belts. And if The Prophets think that they are going to walk out of that arena with those titles after Saturday Night, THEY GOT ANOTHER THING COMING TO THEM! TD: *gulp* HCh: My father was a seven time, SEVEN TIME World Tag Team Champion     with seven different tag team partners, from Bruno The Sandman to     The Madcap Mauler. And he taught us everything in the world that     ANYONE needs to know to win those belts and DAMMIT WE'RE GONNA DO     JUST THAT! And I don't care if it's a couple of Hollywood wannabes,     some cowboys that should be put out to pasture, or some slackers     with bad European accents that think they're owed a title. THOSE     BELTS ARE OUR BIRTHRIGHTS! And no one will stop us from claiming our legacy... Do you... dig? TD: Uh, well, I... HCh: DO YOU? TD: Yes! Of course! I gotta go now! [Chaos immediately snaps into a clam, peaceful appearance.] HCh: Oh, okay! I'll tell Trag you came by. Seeya Mr. Dross! [Chaos runs off.] TD: Uh, see you later Chaos. [whispers] Whew, that was close! [Fade to black.] LM: Those Harlequins scare me. That hair... And the happy hammer... And     the dancing... They're like... like... well... The C word. JW: [shaking his head] Well, anything could happen in this match because     the Harlequins are in it. You can never be too sure of what they     have planned... That is, if they even plan anything at all. One has     to wonder if they just come up with the crazy stuff they do on a     whim. Be sure not to miss this match, folks... It should be...     memorable. -------------------------------------------------- 6. [GROUP C] Dirt Dog Unique Allah vs. Serge Annis -------------------------------------------------- LM: The Cruiserweight champion looks to add to his collection of gold     belts in this tournament, and his first step is Serge Annis. JW: Annis has started on a roll lately by joining the Unholy Alliance     with Deathbringer and taking on Genesis, but does he have what it     takes to beat the Dirt Dog? Skill is only part of the equation. When     fighting the Dirt Dog, one has to keep in mind his unorthodox     tactics. I don't think I've ever seen Unique Allah wrestle the same     match twice. LM: The same goes for interviews... Check this one out... [SCENE: Dirt Dog Unique Allah wallows in a tub full of champagne with two of his special harem.  His magenta hair is now braided into wild little tails tipped with silver foil.  The two women he sits with are simply stunning, one an African-Asian mix and the other somewhat Hawaiian-looking.  They hand feed him grapes.  Unique's got a far away, sleepy and sick look on his face.] DDUA: Oh, Shakeemah!  Look what I done come to since you left me, girl!     Ha!  'm cryin' in my milk cause it won't get cold no more for you,     girl. But I'm here with two sistahs lookin' as good as a bowl a     gravy and I can't enjoy it.  Where's the orange juice I ordered for     this thing?  I know, champagne and orange juice?  What the fuh is he     on now?  I just discovered that I can't digest water no more.  They     done said it was poison to me now.  So stop drinkin' all that     muhfuhing water before it kills you too.  That and Mexican beer.     That's pure urine in a bottle. Ain't no good.  I tell ya that.  It     ain't no good.  Sophie, what else I gotta say? S: Unique, baby, you didn't talk about Serge Annis. DDUA: Oh, yeah, him.  I hear I'm gonna meet a big Annis in New York.     Muhfuh, that's my town.  That's my muhfuhin' people you got right     there. You think anybody gonna be lookin' out for you?  Hell no.     They gonna be bawling out your name.  They gonna be booin' you.     They gonna be lovin' me.  I promise you that.  And Annis, I ain't     forget when we tagged up, muhfuh ... WOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!  [Unique's     eyes pop and he jumps half out the champagne.]  Kianna, you's a bad     girl! K: Just dropped the soap, Unique.  I was just looking for it. DDUA: Well, that weren't no soap, but it'll sure dispense lotion! Hear     me you nasty girl?  Uh uh uh uh, yeah, as I was sayin'.  Annis, you     got something you want to see in me well I hope you got X-ray     vision, because I'm so far away from you you can't even see me.     You're no alien.  You got no rap with the ladies.  I'm the muhfuh     who's the alien.  Understand?  I know you, Annis.  You're just     pullin' stunts.  Cheap stunts.  Well I ain't into that.  No, I'm     not.  I ain't into nothin' but getting a Black heavyweight champion.     They's still three of us.  And the man ain't gonna win this one.     Now, I wanna talk to all my White brothers out there.  Why the hell     y'all beatin' each other up?  Huh?  I mean, if you just got     yourselves together, you might go forth and multiply.  I don't know     civilize Europe, dabble in some nation building, bring religion to     masses. Think a all the good that could be done. [Unique stops and rubs his head.] DDUA: I don't even know where that one came from.  I think they put     water in my brain.  Oh, hep me, please.  I'm going insane!   Annis,     you'll be runnin' round like a plane about to crash!  Kianna, did     you drop the soap again??? K: (giggling) Let me go check. DDUA: Man, cut the cameras off before they get me fired.  Yeah!!! [Fade out] LM: What the hell was he talking about? JW: It's rare that the average person understands just where the Dirt     Dog is coming from. You have to wonder about him, though. Even     though he seems incapable of standing, let alone wrestling, his     performance is impressive. Given that and the fact that he's going     to be in front of a hometown crowd tomorrow night, I'm picking him     for the win. LM: Hometown crowd? Unique Allah lives in New York? Where? In a box? [Jackson gives a grim look to Larry and shakes his head.] ------------------------------------- 7. [GROUP D] Highwayman vs. Nightwing ------------------------------------- LM: Another stable is pitted against each other in this match between     Nightwing and the Highwayman. JW: Now at the risk of sounding like a rumor-monger, I have a feeling     that this one is going to spell trouble for one of these men.     Nightwing has been a little hesitant in Genesis affairs lately. It's     almost as if there's something nagging at him on the inside fighting     the whole thing. LM: Let's face it... The World Title is the ultimate prize as well. JW: Good point. Neither of these guys would be the first to catch gold     fever. I've seen guys that have stabbed long time friends in the     back just for a shot at the big belt, and let me tell you, they were     better friends that Nightwing and Highwayman appear to be. LM: Look at it this way... If Nightwing wins, the Highwayman may want     some payback for his partner taking away his chance. If Nightwing     loses, paired with his lackluster enthusiasm in gang attacks,     Genesis might begin to question him. I don't envy the position of     the IIWF's Native American star. JW: Unfortunately, we don't have any comments from either man, since     they are both training hard for the fight to come. I don't know if     that training includes a last minute plan to work around this or     not... LM: I'm actually looking forward to this one about as much as the     Syndicate match earlier in the night. -------------------------------------------------------------------- 8. [GROUP B] "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare vs. "Sychosys" Joe Petrow -------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: This match is also being viewed as one of the "hot matches" for     tomorrow's card, pitting Joe Petrow against the man that's born to     perform, "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare. JW: I've got to say that it should be interesting. On one hand you've     got Petrow, who, I must admit, is totally insane... Or is he? On the     other hand, you've got Shakespeare... Like I said earlier, after the     incident with Spur, you've got to wonder where his mental state     lies. I wondered out loud what Shakespeare was doing with that     camera on Wednesday. In this following interview, we get an idea... [SCENE: Billy Shakespeare reclines in an area of empty seats ringside at the Manhattan Center.  He looks intently at a white paper in his hands. The camera travels until it looks over his shoulder, revealing the "paper" to be an 8x10 photo of the "Sychopaths", which Shakespeare took last Wednesday.] BS: I want to remember each one: Each face, each vapid visage, each     raised middle finger. I want to recognize these confused fans when     they sit ringside for the big show Saturday Night. Obviously, they     have never seen a true performance, a Billy Shakespeare performance,     and mistakenly believe that what Joe Petrow shows them is worthy of     their praise. Their epiphany draws nigh.     You changed your script last Wednesday, Joe Petrow. You went off     book and ad libbed a plot I'd never before witnessed from you.     That role can be played by two... Perhaps Billy Shakespeare's     performances have gotten stale? Perhaps he no longer sets the crowd     to cheering they way he did in his salad days?  Perhaps... Perhaps     not. So you chose to play the unexpected... so shall I. How aptly put in Antony and Cleopatra, "All strange and terrible events are     welcome. But comforts we despise."   This is no threat, nay but a     statement of fact. Forces of destiny... New forms of hell?  Joe     Petrow, welcome to the "Spotlight", there ain't nothing else on     earth like it. [He goes back to examining the photo.   The camera fades as he exclaims "Hey, Soundbite, I think I see your mother siting in the back.."] LM: That'd be funny... Mrs. Roberts a Sychopath... JW: I would think that Petrow would have made a big deal out of that if     it were true... Moving on, though, we've seen Joe Petrow out crazy     the crazy, out wrestle the wrestlers, out power the powerhouses, and     out think the thinkers. Will we see him out perform the performer?     Let's get the word straight from Petrow as we caught him shooting a     new commercial for his sponsors... [The scene is a tranquil beach at sunset.  Two figures walk hand in hand along the beach.  One of them is a pretty young brunette girl, who seems to be in her early-20's.  The other is "Sychosys" Joe Petrow, dressed in his huge grey multi-buckled trenchcoat, and wearing grey face paint.  His hair is messy and tousled, but there is a content, almost peaceful look in his eyes.  The gentle sound of the pounding surf provides the background noise for their conversation:] YG: Mr. Petrow... can I ask you a personal question? JP: [smiles] Sure Jenny.  What is it? YG: Well...there are some days when I have...you know...that not so     fresh feeling. JP: I know.  Lots of women like you have that problem from time to     time.  It's completely natural. YG: So, what can I do about it? JP: Unfortunately, there's really nothing you can do about it until     it passes.  But you can make the time go faster with this:     [Petrow reaches down, and grabs something that wasn't there before.     It appears to be a pink can, which becomes clear as Petrow holds it     up to the camera] Ladies Mooselips.  All the power of regular     Mooselips, with 30% more calcium.  One can of Ladies Mooselips,     and you'll be back to normal before you know it!  [hands the can     to the girl.] YG: Gee Mr. Petrow...thanks! [Cut to a back of the two walking, as the announcer's voice is heard:] AN: Ladies Mooselips.  For the times in your life that you'd rather     not be a part of. [Fade out...then back to a normal camera shot of the two, as the director speaks] DR: And CUT!  Okay people, that's a wrap! [Immediately, Sychosys shoves the girl into the surf, and continues walking, leaving the soaked lass behind.  A fat man with a large cowboy hat and bad suit waddles into the picture to speak with Petrow] FM: Heeey, wellsir Mr. Petrow, I sure can't thank you enough for this!     You done made sales of this swil..er, fine lager increase by 900%     since you been seen with it, you made me a very rich man! JP: Yeah, yeah, save it for someone who cares.  You know where to send     the money, right? FM: Yessir, Cayman Islands, account codename "Squiggy" JP: Right.  Now gimme this camera, I got some things to say. FM: You heard da man, follow him wherever he wants! [The happy fat man lurches away, and Petrow now walks alone.] JP: Billy Shakespeare, "I am a man more sinn'd against than sinning."     But you already knew that, didn't you?  I have been called mad.     "Oh, that way madness lies;  let me shun that."  They say I can     never succeed.  "A man I am, cross'd with adversity!"  And now,     you are trying to say that I will not win the IIWF World's     Heavyweight Championship!  Well let me warn you this Shakespeare:     "Come not within the measure of my wrath!"  Through hell and high     water, no man has successfully turned the tide of destiny.  And     on July 12th, it is my destiny to have it all, the title, the     glory, and the kiwi!  All will be MINE! You have ambitions of defeating ME?  Well Shakespeare, "Ambition is     a grievous fault!"  And grievously will you answer it... [Petrow walks away.  Fade out for good] LM: Literary quotes from Joe Petrow... Who'd have thought? JW: He just keeps surprising us, Larry... That's why these two men are     favourites in this tournament... They both go above and beyond the     expectations of the fans. I'm going to be watching this one     carefully. ----------------------------------------------------------- 9. [GROUP B] Chris Quigley vs. Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven ----------------------------------------------------------- LM: These two men fought before, and the results are still disputed to     this day. Both these men want payback for their personal     controversies. JW: Speaking of payback, Creed has been asked not to even come to the     Manhattan Center tomorrow for fear of him interfering in this match.     The administration wants to hear an end to the bickering, and have     one of these guys win over the other cleanly. LM: Chris Quigley wants the same thing... More specifically, he wants to     be the man with the clean win over Verhoeven. Let's hear his     comments... [SCENE: Madison Square Garden.  An empty wrestling ring.  The entire arena is dark, except one spotlight in the ring.  The entire arena is empty, except one man in the ring.  "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley, clad in a simple pair of jeans and a leather jacket over a bare chest.  He surveys the entire area, not wanting to miss a second of the "holy ground".  His voice echoes through the rafters as he speaks...] CQ: I've been compared unfairly and unfavourably to a certain wrestler.     I'm aware of the brainless masses who accuse me of being a little     too familiar, and I don't exactly like the accusations, but for     _once_, I'm going to quote this guy.  Madison Square Garden isn't a     church.  But it's holy ground. I've won some big matches here     before, and I've gotten my heart broken here before. [Inhales deeply, and then lets the historic air escape...] CQ: This is definitely a place where champions are born.  Where legends     begin.  Where the men are separated from the boys.  It's a rare     occasion that a match features _two_ men.  Chris Quigley versus Otto     Verhoeven. We've done it before, Verhoeven, and as the cliche goes,     we're gonna do it again.  I've beaten you.  I pinned you in the     middle of the ring, cleanly, 1-2-3.  Exactly how many men can say     that, Otto?  I know full well you respect me just as much as I     respect you. [Quigley paces around the ring...] CQ: Respect is a funny word.  People sometimes mistake it's meaning.     This doesn't mean I like you at all, Verhoeven.  I remember     referring to you as a "Nazi" in an interview not long ago.  I     apologize for that.  It was during a stage of my career I'd just as     soon forget.  But I said the words, and despite my anger, it was     fueled by something.  You walk around the IIWF as the "big, evil,     German juggernaut".  You have a total disregard for rules, for other     people, and you're sadly lacking a conscience.  What a coincidence.     I've heard people say the exact same thing about me.  I can image     you watching this right now, laughing up a storm.  "He's comparing     his killer instinct to _mine_?!", you're probably saying.  We're     obviously two difference packages, Otto.  You're a destruction     machine.  You utilize your killer instinct by literally tearing your     opponents apart.  I, on the other hand, have been known to get down     and dirty outside the ring, on occasion. I've been known to poke an     eye, use a chair, or haul the tights.  Hell, this is professional     wrestling.  This is where biting a man's ear isn't a 1 year     suspension, it's a damn good offense.  The point is, Verhoeven, my     killer instinct lies within my ability to pick an extremity, and     "defuse" it. [Quigley now sits upon a turnbuckle...] CQ: The RSPWF lemmings can believe whatever they want.  Lord Byron is     _not_ a better technical wrestler than I am, and he never will be.     You're looking at the top technician in the world, and I've never     been afraid to say it. And I've never been afraid to prove it.  I've     out-maneuvered other technicians like Dan Kauffman or Chris Deaugau.     I've tied up big men like you or Casey James.  That's what this is     going to come down to Verhoeven, this is going to be a wrestling     match, whether you like it or not, because this is for something     more important than a single win.  This is for a berth into The     Tournament.  This is for the opportunity to face four other men in     one night, and make history.  As far as I'm concerned Otto, the     winner of this match will be the next man on the mountain.  The next     IIWF World Champion.  And as the saying goes, "I don't care who I     squash on the way up, cause I'm not comin' back down!" [Quigley leaps down from the turnbuckle and stands in the middle of the ring, his hands on his hips, his eyes intent, as if playing the match that will soon occur in his mind.  He raises his head and looks over the arena once more, before the spotlight fades and there's nothing but darkness, but you can still hear Quigley's voice.] CQ: I'm going to beat you, Otto.  I _am_ going to beat you. [Fade out.] LM: Well, those comments will definitely have one Lord Byron keeping an     eye on this match. You know, for a guy that complains about     interference, he sure does invite it... JW: Well, Quigley is good at what he does, and feels he has the right to     brag about it. But will he be good enough to beat Verhoeven? More     specifically, will he be able to take the big man down to the mat     and counter his power? Let's get comments from the Butcher... [SCENE: A dark room, only slightly illuminated by a small desk lamp and the static of a TV set. On a sofa sits the hulking form of Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He does not look at the camera but stares only at the static on the TV screen. His voice sounds calm, almost somber.] OV: On Saturday I will again face a man who has been my nemesis ever     since I stepped into the IIWF one year ago. We had a lot of     confrontations, but there was only one definite decision, one clear     pin. I will never forget that moment when Quigley rammed my head     into the unpadded turnbuckle, when everything became black around me     just for three seconds and when I opened my eyes again, he stood on     that same turnbuckle, triumphant, rejoicing, celebrating. I had once     again failed to fulfill what I had promised such a long time ago, to     be the pride of the German people. [He hesitates for a moment, then continues.] OV: In recent weeks I was not in my ... my top form, had not the     opportunities to showcase my skills, lacked the drive and motivation     to exploit my full potential. But then came the night the World     Title became vacant. I was hyped. Finally a chance to reclaim the     ultimate prize, which was stolen from me by that hundesohn Kauffman.     But when the brackets were announced, I felt that whole thing     slipping away from me. Chris Quigley, the one man I was never able     to take down for the count. Doubt arose in me. But then I remembered     another event in my life, another opportunity which was taken away     from me. [He pushes a button on a remote control. Cut to footage subtitled "Madison Square Garden, 23rd July 1990, courtesy of ESPN archives. A boxing match is in full swing. A much younger, much slimmer Otto Verhoeven can be recognized. He fiercely trades punches with the FBLI Heavyweight boxing champion Rene Buck, a smaller but much more muscular man. Verhoeven does the voice-over.] OV: That was supposed to be my big night. I was the youngest European     ever to fight a World champion. Take a look now, round 8. [Both men seem to be very exhausted. They have suffered numerous cuts. Suddenly the larger Verhoeven hits a right cross which stuns Buck. The German hits his staggering opponent with a left jab and a right uppercut, and then begins to blast down on the champion with a whole rain of blows which sends the Buck to his knees. Everybody in the arena jumps on his feet and begin to scream with excitement. The microphones fail to pick up the referee's shout as the elderly man jumps between them, but Otto did not notice him and a stray blow knocks the referee out. At the same time Buck falls on his back, too. The young Verhoeven is the last man standing. Fade to black as other people begin to swarm the ring. Cut back to Verhoeven's room.] OV: You see what happened. I had that match won, I WAS the WORLD     champion. But I was called a loose cannon. They said I hit the ref     on purpose. I was disqualified. When the same referee was assigned     to my next match again and obviously did not call any cheapshots     of my opponent so this time I did what every man had the right to do     and paid him back. I was barred from the world of boxing for     lifetime. I will never get the opportunity to challenge a box     champion again. But at Coronation Clash I have a chance to regain     the IIWF World Title, a prize far more difficult to attain. And I     will not stop until I once again lay my hands on that belt and if     that means that I have to pin the famous Chris Quigley I will DO     that. The Butcher is back and nothing can stop me this time. [Fade to black] LM: Well, hopefully, there'll be no ear biting in this one... Sixty     dollars for a three minute match on PPV... JW: Haven't you learned, Morton? You _never_ order a Tyson fight on PPV.     Never. LM: I think I've learned my lesson now... Well, folks, we've got a new     segment here on Countdown. This is still a tentative segment, so     let's see how it goes... It's called... ======================================================================== ----------------------THE-TRUTH-IS-OUT-THERE---------------------------- --------------------------WITH-ROSS-WELL-------------------------------- ======================================================================== [A skinny, dirty looking man in his late twenties slinks behind his spot at the desk, nervously smoking a cigarette. His hair is cut quite poorly, and greased to his head. He wears a pair of thick glasses that make his eyes look twice their size, and looks around shiftily, giving one the feeling of watching an insect in a room full of predators.] LM: It's nice to have you with us, Ross... [Goes to shake Ross' hand] RW: [Talking quickly and nervously] Get... Get! Man, don't you know how     many germs are in one handshake? Get that infestation away from me,     man... LM: [Pulling hand back] Okay... I... RW: Alright, this is my time, okay? So I want to talk about what the deal is in the IIWF... This Clash Tournament. This is like some set up by the head office, man. Do you have any idea how these brackets got made up, man? Big men in suits in a big office _playing_ with the _lives_ of human beings! The IIWF stars are but puppets in their     hands, man... Oh yeah, baby... I see the markings on the wall, and     the wrestlers here aren't gonna take it any more! Look at the first     round, man... You've got James and Claw fighting each other... Not     because they want to, but because the big brother is telling them     they have to... Making them jump for a little morsel on a stick,     man... Forget it! The establishment wants you to say what they want     you to say, but the fascist dogs won't shut me up... No way, man!     See, the _man_ sees these guys making waves, so the _man_ has to     shut them up! Pit your enemies against each other, see? Do you see?     Of course you see! Larry, you know I'm right... Am I wrong? Tell me     that I'm wrong, Larry... LM: [Looking at Ross in shock] Ummm... I... RS: That's right! You can't, baby, because I'm _NOT!_ Hah? Hah? You hear     that? It's the truth knocking on your door, man... So you've also     got Highwayman and Nightwing in the first round, fighting each     other. Same thing, man. The _man_ sees something to work with, and     he pounces. That match can only cause trouble in the big camp of     Genesis. What else? Oh, man, I could go on for days... LM: Please don't. RS: Bing, zap, baby! What about Steve Kowalski? The guy's getting     cornholed by the system, man! Have you heard this story before? The     establishment tells a guy to do a job, and when he does, they send     him off to the lions? Can you say Lee Harvey Oswald, man? Can you     say single shooter theory? Huh? This thing doesn't stop here, man...     It goes _right_ up to the top... Ever take apart a pair of Chris     Quigley sunglasses? Huh? Have you? Do you know what you'll find?     Huh? You'll find a strip of electrum plating magnetized so they can     track you, man. _They_ want to track the IIWF fans, man. They want     to know what we do, where we're going, who we're talking with! Oh     I'm talking, I'm talking a _mouthfull!_ So I says to him, you know,     man, this ain't right, this ain't right, you know? And he says to     me... He says to me, "You gotta get a voice!" So I think to myself     that isn't a bad idea, right? And so I says... Countdown to Saturday     Night... The voice. The voice of reason... Jackson... You my man...     You my man... JW: I don't like the cut of your jib, buddy... RW: Well you better, 'cause it's the only jib I got! You know what I'm     saying Jackson... The forces are conspiring against you, man...     They're coming for you. Larry here... He may look clueless... LM: Hey! RW: For horses man... [snort] For _horses!_ This guy may look all sweet     and harmless man, but I know the deal. Internet on the inside,     man... Documents going back and forth... [snapping fingers] Bam,     bam, bam! Like that, man... Just takes one guy to grab hold of one,     right? Just one... A memo... A request... Some compromising photos,     man... [raising voice] Doing the Bat Watusi with nothing but a tutu     on! Yeah baby! [Almost screaming now] I've seen it! I've seen it!     The cream, the sugar, the whole [BLEEP]ing cup of [BLEEP]ing coffee!     Stay strong, man! LM: [butting in] Okay, I really think that's enough, guys... Can we turn     off this microphone? RW: You can shut me out, but you can't shut me up! You pigs! [Ross' mic goes dead as a production crew comes out to surround him.] LM: Yeah, get him out of here... JW: What was he talking about, Larry? The memos, the requests... The     pictures? LM: I don't know... The guy's crazy... You're not going to listen to     him, are you? JW: I swear, Larry, if I find out... [Ross dashes back on the stage, chased by the crew.] RW: Jackson! Smells like setup! Setup! I'm making gravy without the     lumps! Yeah baby! Don't let the man hold you down! [The crew tackles Ross to the ground, then in unison, haul him up and out of the shot.] JW: I wonder what possessed him to say that, huh, Larry? LM: I... I don't know... I... I wouldn't know... You know? JW: Right... [Jackson folds his arms and stares at Larry.] LM: What? What? Okay, stop that... You know I don't like that... Okay,     folks... We've got some more thoughts from the stars of the IIWF,     so... Jackson, stop staring at me... So here's Trash Talk, folks... ======================================================================== ---------------------------IIWF-TRASH-TALK------------------------------ ======================================================================== LM: Honestly, Jackson, I don't know what you're talking about... Oh, Hi,     folks... Well, first off, we have an interview with Creed... Or     should I say an attempted interview with Creed by our rookie     reporter, Steve Summers... What? [The shot cuts to Jackson, but he continues to stare at Larry.] JW: Oh, yeah, you can cue me all you want, but I ain't saying a damn     thing until Larry explains to me what's going on. LM: Ummm, let's go to that interview... [SCENE:  A darkened Brooklyn streetcorner. Bathed only in the ineffectual light of a neon sign "EAT CHEESE!" stands the more than a little shaky Steve Summer, his blue IIWF blazer not the only hue making him conspicuous as he approaches the ramshackle back entrance to a local gym.] SS: Hi, guys, Steve Summer here, reporting live from just outside the     training facility for the New York indie promotion the UWL, which I     believe stands for the Urban Wrestling League.     I have snagged an exclusive just for you fans, inside this door is a     man who I have wanted to talk to since I came into the IIWF...a guy     who just kicks ass and doesn't apologize for it.  A guy who in one     week is gonna meet none other than the Intercontinental Champion     Lord Byron in a Loser Leaves Town Match!     Inside this door -- is Creed! [Summer enters the room, the sounds of Lenny Kravitz' "Are You Gonna Go My Way?" wailing through the tiny weight room.  A number of heavily muscled black and Hispanic men are working out feverishly in the sweatbox of a gym. The lack of a central air system is not offset in the slightest by the gentle whirring of a painfully old overhead fan. An older gentleman in a worn grey sweatsuit spies young Summer and expertly moves to block his path to an only partially exposed corner of the room.  The red gloved rookie Creed is clearly in that corner, soundlessly executing rapid fire crunches under the watchful eye of two of the more battle scarred locals.] SS: Excuse me sir, I am Steve Summer with the IIWF and I'm here to     interview Creed for our weekly show "Countdown to Saturday Night". Man: Kid ain't talkin'.  Dog sent the rook' here to get right, to get     hard...he got business to take care of at the Clash. SS: Yes, but I'm Steve Summer!  I, uh, I know Creed personally! [The gymnasium proprietor skeptically considers Summer, staring the young announcer down.] SS: Well, I uh..I know Requiem personally! [The hardness in the veteran trainer's eyes disappears momentarily as he places his hand over the camera lens, gently maneuvering it toward the door.] Man: Thas' real nice, kid.  Why don't you go...take some souls, or     whatever it is those guys do...the men have to get ready for a     fight. [Summer is being led out of the room, the workout warriors in the background sharing a small chuckle in his wake.] SS: I...Genesis...hey guys, hey guys, I know The Smooth!  I know The     Smooth! [The grey sweatsuit clad gentleman stops his ejection of young Summer - and as the music fades...the intrepid IIWF reporter is descended upon from all sides by the suddenly interested athletes.] Man: Aw, why didn't you say so, kid?  Smooth's a good guy - I ain't     never seen a nicer guy on the TV.  Tell that big boy to come 'round     here some time, we'd all go to a ballgame, maybe play some     backgammon. Let's get Smooooth, baby. SS: All right!  This is Steve Summer from the Urban Wrestling League --     and the word on Creed is he's ready to go!!  Let's go back to the     studio! [The men continue peppering Summer with questions about The Smooth as the shot fades.] LM: Nothing like using the Smooth to get out of a sticky situation... [Jackson has taken to mimicking Larry every time he speaks, ala Chevy Chase on the old Saturday Night Live news bits...] LM: Stop that, Jackson... [Jackson doesn't...] LM: [sigh] Tim Dross was somewhat more successful in obtaining an interview with the Intercontinental Champion, Lord Byron, however. Let's hear from the man who, in just eight days, will put his IIWF career, as well as his title, on the line against the rookie Creed: [The scene opens in the study of Byron's mansion.  Byron is sat at his desk, the IC title folded neatly in front of him, as always, staring into space.  His head snaps up as the door opens, and he snorts in disgust as Tim Dross enters the room.] LB: Mr. Dross.  How very good to see you. TD: Did I detect a touch of irony there, Byron? LB: I thought such [Byron sneers] a perceptive man such as yourself would be able to work that out on his own. TD: I take it you've been thinking about your upcoming match at Coronation Clash. LB: Well, Mr Dross, what do you think? [Byron smiles bitterly] Two weeks, away, Mr. Dross.  Two weeks, that young pup and myself will step into the ring here for one final time.  And for Creed, it will not just be the final time against me, but the final time for good. TD: Still confident, Byron?  As you so rightly put, this time aroud, there's everything on the line.  Creed has everything to gain, and you have everything to lose. LB: And that is exactly why I will not fail, Mr. Dross.  I will be damned if I let that young pup who's been hanging off my coat-tails for the better part of a year walk away from the ring with my title and my career.  It's not going to happen, Mr. Dross.  I refuse to let it happen.  Creed - is as good as gone. TD:  You may be underestimating the young athlete's desir... LB: [cutting him off] I am not underestimating anything, Mr. Dross!  You hear me?  I know exactly what this title would mean to him... I know exactly what his career means to him, because it means exactly the same to me as well! And I will burn in hell before I let him take everything I've worked for, everything I've achieved away!  Come Coronation Clash, rookie, you had better be as well prepared as you possibly can, because I tell you, one small mistake, one slight skip up, and I will send your dreams into oblivion!  You lisetn to Watkins' advice as much as you want, rookie.  You look to Sampson and your fans for moral support.  You draw on every piece of information you think you know about me, but I tell you this for a fact:  It won't help you when we get in the ring, Creed.  It won't help you at all.  The only difference is, I already know it!  [Byron's voice drops to almost a whisper]  You're finished, rookie.  It's over for you.  It was over before it had even begun. [Byron sits in silence for a few seconds, and then looks up at Tim Dross.] LB: Get out of here, Mr. Dross.  There is nothing more I have to say on the matter. [Dross waits for a few more seconds, but when Byron doesn't look up again, turns and leaves the room.  The scene fades out.] LM: Next up, we have an interesting bit of footage shot right after the end of last week's card involving Marty Warnett. I had the, um, pleasure to be there... Here's what happened. [SCENE: Cut to shot of the hall backstage at Cleveland after Saturday's event. Tim Dross arrives, being frantically waved at by Larry Morton as several officials stand talking animatedly.  Behind a locked dressing room door emanates sounds of destruction, of a room being torn apart. As Dross approaches, Larry Morton peels away and takes him to one side.] LM: Tim, it's Marty ... he's going crazy in there.  I tried to get in     for an interview, but he threw me out and told me to go to hell.     You two get on pretty well, we thought maybe you could help? TD: [taken aback] Sure, Larry, we have got pretty close over the     months... [Dross walks up to the door.  He knocks, a barrage of abuse being the sole reply.] TD: Marty?  It's me, Tim. MW: [muffled voice] Great, just when my life was getting better ... hold     on a minute. [The door starts to rattle, more swearing can be heard and eventually, the door explodes outwards, hanging onto the frame by a solitary hinge.] Suit: You'll pay for that - you've cost us excess money for not leaving     the premises by eleven, now damage to property ... MW: Bite me, take it out of the merchandising royalties you still     haven't paid me.  Come on in to my humble abode, Dross. [The official steps back as Dross follows Marty back into the room. Lockers lay fallen and dented, a wooden bench lies in pieces.  Marty, dressed solely in trainers and jeans stands there, wild-eyed.] TD: Marty, I know you're upset, let's talk. MW: Talk?  Talk? Is that what you think'll solve everything in this damn     federation?  Why don't _you_ tell me what happened? TD: Well, you were wrestling Steele, LeBec interfered and cost you the     bout. MW: [chuckles to himself] Oh boy, Dross, you observe, you call the bout,     yet there's none more blind as those that remain impartial ...     Dross, that was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my best performance in     ages. Pure and simple.  Loose as a goose, cool as a fool.  Tim, that     was the kind of performance that got me gold not too long ago.     Last Saturday was my chance to take a giant step back to the top;     meeting and beating the best to take the marbles.  How have I     wrestled?  With my heart, soul, rock and roll.  What happened?     Having not so much taken Steele to school, more like kindergarten,     LeBec yet again turns up and gets in my face.     Steele, you've commented about how you won the bout.  Ahem, don't     you mean, LeBec won you the bout?  You offered me your hand,     something you don't see too often around the world of wrestling, and     I shook it. You want to be a standup guy?  You took a tainted win,     and turn it into a great victory?  Man, have you got a lot to learn.     And what of your little buddies Paris and Rogers?  Preventing     interference, were you? Steele, the only advantage you had that     night was the crowd, I mean, Dross, I get booed for what?  Wrestling     cleanly?  If you had any of guts, Steele, you would give me an     immediate rematch.     Steele, if by some miracle of fate you win the belt, you know I'm     the number one contender. TD: Well, it was his hometown, and he did show great endurance. MW: Indeed, and I give him credit for that.  Beating Steele wouldn't     have been a formality, but it would have happened.  But LeBec ...     everywhere I go, he's all I see these days. TD: You two had quite a thing going there a while ago, don't forget. MW: Yeah ... it's just funny how I was lobbying for bouts against     Quigley, then LeBec re-appears.  Why should he want to get involved     with me again?  Going back to the past instead of concentrating on     the present or future? [Marty picks his bag]     Dross, I just had a thought.  I'm out of here for a while, I need to     figure something out. [Marty then leaves, brushing past officials as Dross stands alone in the destroyed locker room.] LM: Marty took off after that, and hasn't been heard from IIWF staff     since. I hope he hasn't split with the organization. JW: You know what? Good idea... I'm out of here. [Jackson gets up, throws down his earpiece and walks off the set. Larry is shocked.] LM: Ummm, Jackson? Can you come back here? [Jackson is heard yelling something off camera that isn't quite picked up by the microphones. Larry blushes, and apparently gets a cue from the producer.] LM: Umm, okay! Well, next up, we've got some footage from Derek Mota     regarding the beating he took last week at the hands of Genesis.     Let's take a look... [Cut to footage subtitled "Earlier This Week". A number of doctors and an IIWF suit are standing in the hallway of a hospital, discussing the condition of a patient. The Suit is looking quite nervous, obviously the subject is either a friend or there is a lot of money on the line here.] Suit: So he's gonna be okay, isn't he? Doc: The patient has suffered some serious muscle bruising, which     sometimes can be more painful than a break or tear, and has a slight     concussion, but there won't be any lasting effects. Suit: So he'll be able to wrestle again on July 12th, you're saying. Doc: Providing he watches himself until then, he should be 100% in a few     weeks. [The IIWF Suit looks after hearing this, and heads straight to the pay phones to announce the good news. The camera follows the doctor, who is entering the patient's room. Derek Mota is lying in a hospital bed, wearing a neck brace for protection. The doctor immediately begins removing the neck brace.] Doc: Good news, Derek. You're going to be fine. Just a slight concussion     and some bruises. It's going to hurt like hell for a few days, but     at least there won't be any lasting damage. [Derek just shrugs off the doctor's help and removes the neck brace himself. He is completely ignoring the doctor, a look of intense fury on his face.] Doc: Are you all right Derek? DM: Requiem ... Doc: What was that you just said? DM: ... ain't gonna get away with this ... [Derek is still completely ignoring the doctor, staring a hole though the ceiling.] Doc: Well, I have other patients to take care of right now, Derek. If     you do have any questions, please give me a shout. [The doctor quickly exits the room, a little miffed about being ignored. Derek immediately sits up upon the exit of the doctor, and he obviously gets a series of sharp pains in his neck, but still his intensity does not waver.] DM: Requiem ... Highwayman ... the rest of the rat pack. You guys are     exactly what was wrong with the New Generation, or the Genesis     Generation, whatever you wanna call it. Too weak to work alone,     needed the crutches of the others to make it.     People bracketed me in with you guys, thinkin' that just because I     called myself New Gen, that I was a lazy, pompous ass.  That ain't     my style.     So you can give me all the Nighttime Muggings or whatever they call     it, but I'm still gonna get up. You ain't never gonna put me down.     Genesis ... I'm like a roach. You think you can get rid of me, but     I'll be always back for more. You're gonna get real tired of seein'     my face, boys. Maybe you should play like Highwayman and run to the     EWPSA or whatever they call it, cause it's your only safe zone right     now.     Enjoy the tournament while you're in it, boys. Ain't none of you     who's gonna win it. I guarantee that. [The camera fades out as Derek Mota throws his legs over the side of the bed and gets up, looking for his clothes.] [Shot comes back to Larry arguing with the producer - A tall, young man with a shaven head and a goatee, dressed in jeans and a hooded flannel shirt] LM: I'm telling you, I _can_ do the show on my own... Don't bother     getting a replacement! [The producer nods his head with a look that says "Oh, yeah, _sure_ you can," and walks off the set.] LM: Okay, folks... Next up, we've got a fairly haunting interview with     former tag team champions, The Dark Disciples. They'll be facing the     Hollywood Bloods Next Saturday at the Clash... [SCENE: Torrential rain whips through a ramshackle village. Old buildings sway and creak as the wind howls all about them. Surly looking peasants, their faces stained with soot, their clothing caked with mud, toil away in the background. Their expressions are grim and dull, their eyes reflecting the unrelenting anguish of a meager existence. The whole village has the aura of something almost unreal... like some forgotten relic from medieval times. Two hulking, sinister figures, their forms heavily cloaked, approach from the distance. At the sight of them the villagers are stricken with terror, and the children begin to wail. Their faces ashen with dread, the villagers hurriedly cross themselves and huddle into their run-down shelters.... meager protection from the grim fate that awaits them. The figures trudge up and stand amidst the deserted village square. The rain has slackened, and there is not a sound but for the tormented howling of the wind. The figures push their hoods back slightly - it is Kane and Wulf, the Dark Disciples.] KANE: Power! It is the force that flows through all of the Universe. It       is the meaning of all things. For the sake of power, the strong       will sacrifice everything that the good and the meek hold dear:       honour, justice, kindness, goodwill, love - they amount to nothing       but dust in the hands of the ruthless and the mighty! Nothing else       matters but the acquisition of power: the manifestation of your       iron will as it holds dominion over the petty lives of others, the       ability to crush or make glorious with the sweep of a hand, the       triumph as you sit upon a blackened throne, forever the master of       all destinies! Tell me, brother Wulf; how is power attained? WULF: Through the enforcement of fear! Do not only crush your enemies,       but baptize them in their own gushing blood! Make them scream and       lament, make them place their souls in your tainted hands, make       them beg for an end to the torments you inflict upon their tender       flesh, but from which you will never deliver them; pierce their       hearts with fear to the very core! KANE: You speak the truth, Brother Wulf. It is the fear the meek hold       for the strong that places them within our cold grasp. Just look       at these villagers cowering in their little mud huts - they know       well the meaning of fear. We are their masters, we hold them under       our sway - they are not stupid enough to be bold! As men more       ruthless and stronger than they, we are permitted to do with them       as we will. They are pawns on our table, playthings for our       amusement. [At this point, Wulf pulls a wooden torch out of his cloak and begins to anoint the head with flammable pitch.] KANE: That is the meaning of power, and now you see why we shall stop at       nothing to attain it. What is the symbol of power in the IIWF,       brother Wulf? WULF: The World Heavyweight Championships! The unholy trophies that       belong to the Dark Disciples alone! But there are pretenders to       our dark throne; the meek and feeble have usurped the crowns from       our blackened brows! KANE: That is so, brother Wulf. The peasants of the IIWF arose and       challenged our might. We became complacent in our lofty heights,       and the cracks in our armour were pierced by the lowly and the       oppressed. But what they called courage as they stood against us -       I call stupidity, for they made a fatal mistake. Our dark reign       was ended, but the oppressed did not band together to crush us       permanently. No! In their folly they squabbled and fought and the       crowns passed from hand to hand. They are like a pen of squabbling       geese, just waiting to be plucked. Now, we are prepared. Now, the       time is ripe for the Dark Disciples to conquer afresh. All that       remains is for us to strap those title belts around our waists; we       have already regained our status as the most powerful tag team in       the IIWF. Why is that so, brother Wulf? WULF: Because we inspire fear in the hearts of our enemies! - none are       held in greater fear than the Dark Disciples! No other names are       spoken with such dread! Only the stupid have courage in the face       of the terror we breed - all else quake before us! KANE: [evil chuckle] You learn well, brother Wulf. Cold Spell, Hollywood       Bloods, Harlequins, Prophets of Rage - you are the unfortunate       ones. The other tag teams have been weeded from the ranks, and       their fates shall be delayed. You, on the other hand... the       unlucky chosen, my underlings, [evil chuckle] had better pray...       Pray that facing the Dark Disciples will not be necessary for you       yet. But even if it were so, still you would have no respite; we       shall exist forever in your nightmares! [Still with his chilling laugh, Kane ignites Wulf's torch. The flame of the match sputters on the pitch but soon crackles into life. The Dark Disciples pull their hoods over their faces once again, and advance on one of the village buildings. It does not seem likely that they will use the torch for illumination. Fade.] LM: Evil... Pure evil... And now onto a happier topic... Oh, no... This     isn't happy... It's Steve "The Fury" Kowalski... [The wind is blowing across the green Meadowlands of New Jersey. sitting on top of the route 120 overpass is none other than the New Jersey Nightmare, Steve "The Fury" Kowalski. Over his shoulder is the U.S. Continental Arena, Giant Stadium is behind that. Kowalski, getting the puff from his cigar, looks back at the camera.] SK: This place's my old man's stompin' ground. The house that Bruno     built.When it was still the Brendan Byrne Arena, when it was still     the home of the Meadowlands Massacre for the Supercards, it was a     hell of a place to wrestle. It was a hell of a place to lose, but it     was heaven when ya won. Now the IIWF wants to touch on the Garden     state's nerve center, to tap into the wildness of the fans. _My     Fans!_ [Tosses the cigar to the ground] Ya don't come to _my_ place     an' not invite me to the party! Its like going to jail an' not     havin' the inmates. It jus' ain't done. [Kowalski rustles through his jacket pocket and produces a ticket, holding it up to the camera. The 'IIWF' symbol is stamped on the face.] SK: Ya might have me on lockout, but I got me a seat. Front row...with     my fans...right where the action is! Get too close...[He draws his     thumb across his throat] ya mine! All ya [BLEEP]s that want the big     title, watch yer asses when ya roll outta the ring. I jus' may take     a bite outta ya! Me vs. the IIWF ain't over...its jus' startin'! [fade] LM: Hmmm... Sounds like something our good friend Ross Well might be     caught saying... [Off camera, someone is heard screaming, "Yeah, baby!"] LM: Or that... Well, that appears to be all we have this week. Next     week, we'll be counting down the big Coronation Clash Pay Per View,     so don't miss it. If you haven't ordered yet, then get off the sofa     and call your local cable operator! If they don't offer it, change     companies! Well, next week I'll take an in depth look at the     possibilities of the remaining brackets, and look at the other     matches on the card as well. I say that "I'll" take a look because I     will be the only broadcaster here... New format... [looking off     camera] Yes, it is... Yes, I will... Stop shaking your head at me     like that... No... No new guy... Me... Me, me, me! Okay, folks,     we're all out of time here, so until next week, this is Larry Morton     saying... Ummm, See you next week! [Larry Morton is seen arguing with the producer as the camera widens it's shot to show all the fans around the set snickering at something or another, Jackson Witt near the back flipping Larry the one finger salute, and Ross Well being chased by police officers, screaming, "The man can't hold me down, baby!" Fade.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+