##### ###### ### ########## ########## ########## #### ## ########## ########## ########## #### # #### ######## ##### ##### #### ## ##### #### #### #### #### ### #### #### #### #### ############# ######### #### #### ########### ######### #### #### #### #### #### ######### ######### ### #### #### ######### ######### ### ## #### ######## ######## ## # #### =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ## =-=-=-= M + O + N + D + A + Y M + U + S + I + N + G + S =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 22 July 1997 ----------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Requiem ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The darkened IIWF interview area, mere moments after IIWF Coronation Clash went off the air. The menacing tones of 1492's "Conquest Of Paradise" can be heard as Requiem enters, his night black guitar over one shoulder and the IIWF World Championship belt draped over the other. Requiem slowly smiles, a menacing sight to behold] REQUIEM: At last... at long last... the day foretold is upon us! The old IIWF is no more, consumed by the fire that is Genesis. From the ashes arises a new IIWF, an IIWF that has entered a golden era, the Genesis Epoch has arrived! We promised the Genesis Generation championship gold, and my heart knows joy that we were able to deliver upon our promise. But my joy is muted by the treachery of one I once thought a friend. Nightwing? Phoenix? The name is irrelevant. Only one thing matters, and that is retribution. Phoenix, you should know that you are a marked man. Sooner or later, Genesis will exact retribution. If you are not with Genesis you are against Genesis, and your actions this night have proven your stance most eloquently.         Once again Tim Dross refers to us as a pack of dogs, but he is wrong. Tim Dross, do not think of us as a pack of dogs, but rather as a pack of wolves. Wolves are often misunderstood creatures, Tim Dross. They hunt as a pack, and they share in the spoils. A most apt analogy, I am sure Tim Dross would agree. Now Genesis have the titles I know it will be said that the hunters have become the hunted. Nothing could be further from the truth, for we are still the hunters. But now the prey must come to us, and wolves are most dangerous in their own territory. What now for Genesis? There are two belts still that we have yet to gain... [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Creed ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [A full week after his historic, destiny-altering victory over Lord Byron at Coronation Clash, the red gloved rookie Creed stands in the IIWF interview area.  Any hint of insecurity which ever might have been seen in his personna has vanished -- Creed could not possibly be more confident as he serenly composes his thoughts, the Intercontinental Championship belt fastened firmly about his waist.] CREED: I said it before.  I'll say it again. Byron, you messed with the wrong rookie. But I ain't about yesterday, I ain't about I told you so and I ain't about celebrating past glory. I am Creed -- and I about beating the hell out of people. And now that me and Ike and Mad Dog Watkins have Championship gold -- we are gonna be twice as hard and five times as bad as anyone ever thought about us being.  You talk all you want about the Gimmick and Genesis. You talk about the Butcher.  You talk about Quigley or Petrow or damn anybody else you can think of. But the future of the IIWF is right here. The future of the IIWF is Creed. I am Intercontinental Champion -- I am gonna be Intercontinental Champion tomorrow and I am gonna be Intercontinental Champion as long as I damn well want. And there ain't a damn thing any of you can do about it. You all want a shot at the big man?  You want a piece of the rookie with the red glove and the gold?  Any of y'all want a chance to find out what Marty Warnett found out, what the Highwayman found out, what Casey James found out -- and what Lord Byron has found out not once but twice -- that the best wrestler in the world today is standing right here? Any of you want some of this?  Any of you all want some of this right here? You want the Intercontinental Champion of the World?  You want Creed?  You want Creed? Come get Creed. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Cold Spell ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Backstage after the PPV with the new tag champs. Edmund Fitzgerald proudly has his belt on, while Icehawk is cradling his in his hands, while he alternates between great joy and great pain.] FITZ: Okay, we are going to keep this short, because I'm going to take my partner here to the hospital to have his back looked at. But we didn't want to let this go by without thanking some people: the people of the IIWF for giving us a title shot at three straight PPVs, and letting us finally earn the belts that we should have had at Ring Wars. The members of Genesis, for watching our backs, and letting us beat Violence Unlimited and the Prophets without outside interference. And the Prophets of Rage for making us reach down and find a new level. You two are the toughest team we have ever faced, and anytime you want to have a third match in the series, let us know. HAWK: And now it is time for the Worst Resort! Who are these guys? I mean, they beat the Hollywood Bloods to get here, like that's an accomplishment. It's kinda insulting to give someone a title shot just for beating the Bloods. Demeans the whole concept. [Fitz just rolls his eyes, as his partner rambles on.] HAWK: Of course, I suppose they needed someone new for us to beat -- we've already beaten everyone else. And, oooh, the mighty Syndicate was just awesome in their debut, eh? Lost on the Free For All, for God's sake! [Fitz starts to drag his partner toward the ambulance at this point, but Icehawk breaks away and heads back to the camera.] HAWK: Nightwing, we really need to talk. Give me a call, buddy. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Steve "the Fury" Kowalski ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene is chaotic, IIWF staff and reporters scurrying everywhere. Steve "The Fury" Kowalski is being helped into the ambulance by the paramedics, obivously seriously hurt from the the spectacle that is the Coranation Clash. After taking the seat in the ambulance, glazed look in his eyes, Kowalski looks out over the sea of reporters that are screaming questions at him. Just before the parametics close the rear doors, he quietly makes a statement.] SK: Two things: One. Petrow, I guess, just asked fer the rubber match.     Two. Rectum knows the score. An' if I have to go threw all his     ass-kissin' mama's boys to get to him... I will. Now, I gotta go     to the hospital to stop this internal bleedin'. [Doors close and the ambulance pulls away. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF interview area is crowded with several members of the Jobber Justice Squad. Over them towers Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven, his face reddened with rage, arguing with the equally agitated Head of Security, Dennis Griffing. The microphones are obviously turned of as no sound can be heared, but the argument seems to be rather heated. After a moment Griffing throws his hands up and leaves while Verhoeven shouts something after him. The JJS follow Griffing quickly, not wanting to be left alone witht the German Juggernaut. Verhoeven makes a sign towards someone off-screen, when suddenly the sound is turned on again.] OV: ...it on again. Ah, that's better. Tonight, Otto Verhoeven, the European manservant, the brutish follower, has left the IIWF along with the oh-so-great Lord Byron. Tonight, Otto Verhoeven, the Butcher, the German Juggernaut, the Teutonic Terror has returned and I am going to reclaim my position as most feared man in this federation. Byron is gone and with him the European Alliance. I won't have to spend all that time protecting him any more, running interferance for him and attacking wrestlers he was afraid to face. Now I can once again concentrate on my goal, the ultimate, only important goal and no one, man or freak, will be able to stop me this time. [He has calmed down visibly, but the tone of his voice is still sharp, intense.]  OV: But there is yet another matter to deal with, another mistake to correct, another man to show his folly. That man is Duncan Macbeth, who, together with his feeble-minded brother, managed to ruin Coronation Clash for me. Sooner or later, Macbeth, this action will fall back on you, will haunt you and you will join all the other victims in the SLAUGTERHOUSE. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Thunder stands in front of the IIWF banner watching a monitor located in the interview area.On the screen can be seen the image of Requiem winning the IIWF world title. Thunder shakes his head in disgust. He is dressed in jeans, black t-shirt and black Stetson hat. He pushes a button and the monitor whirs to a close as it shuts off. Thunder turns slightly to face the camera...] BT: S'been a flamin' week now an' I still can't believe it. That shoulda been me out there. That shoulda been me strappin' that belt around _my_ waist... not that punk, Requiem. Five men ta win a belt. That's what it took, runt. Ya couldn't do the job yerself... I knew it an' now you know it. So next time there ain't gonna be any doubt, ya won't be no "destuction angel," hoss... [Thunder slams his fist into his hand.] ...yer gonna be a fallen angel. I owe ya an' I don't fergit my debts. [Thunder kicks over a table of refreshments against a wall.] Dammit! I had ya beat, Requiem! I DDT'd yer hide an' shoulda had my hand raised. I'd have kicked Kowalski's ass an' that gold strap would be right here where it belongs. But the Wolf gets the shaft again. Well, mebbe it's time ta stop bein' such a... "nice guy" an' start doin' what I came here ta do... an' that's take care o' business. Maybe change _is_ in the winds. Then again, mebbe... [Thunder rubs his chin then smiles an evil grin to the camera.]      ...mebbe it ain't such a change after all. [Thunder slowly walks off the interview set. Fade to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF Interview area.  Coronation Clash has been completed for just over an hour, and many of the IIWF personalities have long since left the Fleet Center.  However, Chris Quigley emerges onto the set, wearing faded blue jeans and a black "Quickstrike Island: Trespassers Will Be Executed" t-shirt.  The events of the day seem to have taken their toll on his face, as he speaks...] CQ: What can you say about Coronation Clash?  It was everything it was supposed to be, except one thing!  At the end of the day, the World Champion was supposed to be the man who overcame everything.  The man who showed the most heart and staying power.  The man who wanted it the most.  I know one thing for sure, Requiem is _not_ that man.  Steve Roberts is a washed up never-was, but I'll agree with him on one thing.  Requiem defeating Steve Kowalski was nothing short of a _crime_!  Genesis is exactly what the IIWF doesn't need, and Kowalski was ripped off! [A smirk crosses his face...] CQ: Funny, ain't it?  I'm the one who's been accused of bitching and moaning about how I'm getting ripped off, and no one else ever sees it the way I do. This time, Steve Kowalski knows full well, the IIWF officiating is terrible, and more often than not, the man who deserves to win, doesn't.  But hell, I don't give a damn about either of them, all you need to realize, Requiem, is that eventually, I _will_ be the #1 contender again, and this time, _nothing_ is going to stop me, especially not your group of over-rated misfits, Genesis! [Runs his hands through his hair...] CQ: Now I guess I can address my situation.  The Four Way Dance.  Right away, I want to say something openly and publicly to Billy Shakespeare. You're one helluva wrestler, and anytime we meet in the ring, it's nothing short of a marathon.  Then we go to Marty Warnett.  I don't like you, and you know it, and hell, you've got your own problems with Lebec I suppose, don't you?  But let's get one thing perfectly clear, you accuse me of paying off Lebec to keep you away from me?  Marty, don't flatter yourself, alright? And speaking of Mr. Lebec... y'know, I always figured, despite our differences, deep down we were cut from the same cloth.  We had a strong desire to win, and would probably do anything to achieve that.  But getting someone else to do your dirty work?  That makes me _sick_, Lebec.  You were right about one thing, though.  It'll never be over between us.  Somewhere, sometime, I'm going to pound you, and to go right along with your Hollywood fixation, you'll be seein' stars! [Quigley walks off the set. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Showstopper" Simon Lebec ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Camera opens with "The Showstopper" Simon Lebec, nursing a bump on his head with an ice pack.] SL: So anyway, I can't think of a more awful night for "The Showstopper"! First off, that twit Janois causes me to be late with my movies, and I get charged up the ass in late charges.  Janois, you will never get in my face like that again!  Step in the ring if you think you're so tough!  Then from there, Warnett manages to pin me again?  What the Hell? Warnett, we'll settle our differences in the ring!  No DQ, no countout... let's just see who the better man really is! I need a drink. [Lebec reaches for his bag, when the muffled ringing of a cellphone is heard. He impatiently grabs the phone from under a towel and extends its aerial before speaking:] SL: Yeah? Whaddya want? Benny, how'd we do this week?... I had five to one on the Tigers... Damn!  Okay... Give me the odds for the Marlins series... Cool.  Put me down for $10,000 a game.  What else do ya got there... Tour de France?!  Stuff that! Okay, what happened with the IIWF bet? WHAT!  You told me I had a lock on it! Who won? ... ROGER FLETTON!... That guy is half whacko! He didn't... Oh, I am?... Against?... MOTA!  HA!  I could beat the fool in my sleep! HUH?... Of course I could beat him in a dog collar!... Fine!  Let them put a dog collar on me!  I could beat Mota with two dog collars around my neck, locked in a box, hog-tied, with a harpoon shoved up my ass!... Fine... no sweat!  Okay, put $100,000 on me... I'll be along to collect on Sunday!  Later, Benny. [Lebec hangs up the phone, and looks into the camera.] Fletton, you dog! [Camera fades as Lebec starts to chuckle.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Deathbringer ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF interview area. Deathbringer is standing in the center of the screen, looking down. He doesn't move a bit, as he begins to speak in his low, growling, emotionless voice] DB: The time has come... The time of revenge... The time of vengeance... The time of wrath... Serge Annis... You betrayed me at Coronation Clash... You betrayed the Unholy Alliance and worst of all, you betrayed yourself... I extended my hand to you, I invited you to walk at my side, I asked you to help me to destroy Genesis... But in the fraction of a second you throw it all away... your honor... your pride... and your life... Something is starting to grow within me... Something that I cannot describe... But believe me, when I say that it will not be pretty... [Deathbringer still has not moved since he began to talk. Unusually even his eyes cannot be seen, seemingly due to the fact that the cowl covers his face. He continues to speak after a few seconds] DB: I am the King of Destruction, the Master of Chaos... I exist in you, in the shadows of your brain... I belong to you, and like a child you grew me... I am living on the Dark Side... I am living in your head... But I will soon move on, to find another host... I will tell you why... You lived as a coward... And you will die as a fool... The end of your existence lurks just behind the next corner... Yes, Annis, you already live on borrowed time... The Reaper is waiting for your soul... And do not even try to escape... you cannot escape, as from now on you are tumbling blind around this world... But be sure that my voice will take you home... And now, Annis, let me make a promise to all the wrestling world, to Genesis, and especially to you... [Deathbringer now raises his head, and it becomes apparant that his eyes are pitch black. As he removes the cowl his mask becomes visible. A red flash is seen on both sides of the mask, pointing towards Deathbringer's eyes] DB: Serge Annis... Soon, very soon, I will end your very life... and then... I WILL DANCE ON YOUR GRAVE... [During the last words, Deathbringer's eyes begin to glow in a piercing red color, as if to emphasize what he has just said] DB: The same goes to the rest of Genesis... Oh, and Requiem... congratulations on winning the IIWF Championship belt... At last, you are worthy to be extinguished by my power... GENESIS, PREPARE TO MEET YOUR MAKER... [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Ike Sampson ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Ike Sampson stands in front of the IIWF logo, the last traces of his scars from Coronation Clash finally fading away.] IS: I've seen it all... over and over. Rogers... Byron... Kowalski.  Three times I've lost... all for the same reason. The match... in my hands... one dirty move... one low blow... and it slips away.  I guess Mad Dog is right.  I need to work on that killer instinct.  The Big Dog needs to work on his bite... and that's the truth. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Scott Rogers ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Scott Rogers stands before an IIWF backdrop as per usual. He wears only a pair of black trunks, is chewing gum and has a cross and chain around his neck. He has his trademark grin on his face, but somehow looks more arrogant than ever before.] SR: What did I promise you weasels? That Scott Rogers would make an impact on Coronation Clash? That everythin' would work out just perfect? That the man who beat me in the tournament would win the whole damn thing? Yeah, exactly that. You could call me a fortune-teller, but I wouldn't bother; I couldn't give a [BLEEP] what you have to say. The only people worth anythin' around this joint are the men who make up Genesis. We hold all the marbles around here ya see. Yeah there's a couple more belts we'll be bringin' home over the next few weeks or months -- however long it takes -- but there ain't no desperate rush for them. [Rogers stops for a moment to snigger then continues.] Wednesday night on the War Room, there's gonna be mass devastation: me and Serge, the new boys to Genesis, the future of the IIWF, get together for the first time to meet who? What's their soddin' names? [Rogers looks to the left of the set where the producer can be heard whispering "The Rotundos."] SR: Oh yeah, the Rotund boys. Dear oh dear. When me and Sergey, over six hundred pounds of pure muscle, tag together you _know_ there's no way you're gonna come outta there without somethin' broken. It's the second step, followin' Coronation Clash, to Genesis doin' this place over and cleanin' it out. And it's gonna be a helluva lotta fun. [Rogers starts to laugh. Fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "The Intrepid" Ryan Howard ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene unfolds within the confines of what appears to be a muscleman gym, overly crowded with many men working the machines. Moving through, with an assorted side of glares and points, it comes to rest upon a young man doing squats with quite a bit of weight on his shoulders. His dark sanguine hair is tousled a bit before his eyes, and all the dense muscles in his wirey body are bulging at the strain he is withstanding.] RH: [grunting] Herrm.. err.. hey.. I guess you're here for my first IIWF interview... okay, well... I'd just like to say I'm glad I'm here, since WAR! isn't doing much lately, and I'm also glad I didn't fall into any of Tonnage's footprints and break my neck on my way here. I'd hate to have had to sue him for punitive damages.. [Chuckling, he sets down the well crafted bar and reches for some talk, dabbing it on his hands and smacking them together.] I'm a wrestler and a brawler, and if where I am there isn't any wrestling or brawling, I move on... in this case, to the IIWF. Big names here, ya know... Otto Verhoeven, Takezo Musashi, Brody Thunder... to coin a phrase, "where the big boys play." [Walking a bit to the side, he strightens the teal tank top with yellow "WAR!"s tattered all about, in desperate need of a Requiem or Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven one.] Unlike most new guys coming into a federation, I'm not gonna tell you I want to wrestle all of you and am glad to be among such competition. I think you all suck donkey, and don't expect any ounce of respect coming from me. And if you want to know if I can back up my words, just watch and see. [Almost feeling like "Bang"ing, he turns from the camera with a small chuckle as it fades.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Billy Shakespeare sits quietly before the camera, the sounds of the crowd leaving Coronation Clash continue in the background.  He wipes a sweaty brow, then slowly looks up at the camera.  He is nearly emotionless, yet obviously exhausted to the core of his being.] BS: All is not well that has ended well.  And I'm not very happy.  IIWF,     is this what you want?  Is this circus the greatest wrestling     federation in the world today?  Then be careful what you ask for.      I'm Billy Shakespeare, Born to Perform, and ready to oblige.  You     ain't seen nothing yet. [A glint appears in his eye as he rises and leaves, the shadow of a smirk appearing on his lips.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Enigma" Takezo Musashi ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Backstage after the Coronation Clash. The "Enigma" Takezo Musashi paces around the locker room wearing an expression of agitated anguish. His face paint is smudged, and some of Mad Dog Watkin's blood stains his pants - but he doesn't even seem to notice.] TM: What could I have been thinking? What demons must have possessed me     at that crucial moment? I had Joe Petrow, a man who's degenerate and     destructive behavior I despise to the very core of my being; a man     who symbolises everything the human race has become in all of its     sickness and depravity; my hated nemesis and the very antithesis to     all that the "Enigma" of old held sacred - I held the destruction of     this man in the palm of my hand - and I let it all go! How could this be so, when with one blow I could have rid the IIWF of Joe Petrow's destructive influence once and for all!     What stayed my hand? How this question tortures me! There is no     honour in sparing a dangerous enemy - even the old "Enigma" would     have it so. What is this weakness that resides within me? What is it that held me back from venting my rage? Could it be that I see the savage bitterness residing in the heart of Joe Petrow, and I exult in such accursed torment? Could it be that in Joe Petrow, I see not my antithesis, but...         No! It was a passing moment of weakness I tell you! You must believe that it was merely a single aberration! I will not rest until I see Joe Petrow drowning in his own blood, I swear to you all! I despise the feeling of pity, the manifestation of weakness that overcame me at that moment. Never will I permit myself to sink so low again...     [Takezo's expression of anguish is suddenly transformed to one of furious determination. A raging fire smolders in his eyes.]     Yes! That is the answer! Although I convinced myself that the "Enigma" of old had long since vanished, a part of his foolish, misguided spirit must still remain within me like a dying ember! It is time that the "Enigma" of old was purged to the full; it is time that I embraced my anger and ruthlessness to their utmost! Yes! Everyone thought that already they had seen the "Enigma" reach his most embittered and volatile -- I thought so myself! Now I am convinced that my passion for mayhem has only begun to glimmer and spark; that soon it will ignite into a raging inferno; a fire to engulf myself and the entire IIWF within its fury!         Beware, Joe Petrow... Beware to ALL denizens of the wrestling world! Soon there shall be nothing and nobody to whom the "Enigma" gives a single shred of mercy! The "Enigma" is descending into the depths of hell, and he plans on taking all of you with him!     [Musashi dashes out of shot, clearly hell-bent on some mission of dementia. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Duncan Macbeth ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE:  The IIWF intervew area, shrouded in darkness except for a single spotlight.  On a stool in the middle of the harsh circle of light, Duncan Macbeth sits, hands clasped in front of him, his bowed head obscuring his face with his mass of ruddy-blond hair.  He seems to be deep in thought, appearing to stare blankly at the floor.  After a few moments, the Scot raises his head and faces the camera, a week's growth of beard stubble not quite masking the wounds on his face inflicted by Otto Verhoeven's valet Heidi at Coronation Clash.  The combination of Macbeth's unshaven visage, the shadows cast across his face by the spotlight, and his incendiary green gaze seem to intensify the Highlander's already grim expression.] DM: I've been doin' a bit o' thinkin'. Since I've been 'ere in th' IIWF, I've fought th' good fight, match after match, week after week.  I've conducted meself well, obeyed th' rules o' th' game t' th' best o' me ability, an' won meself respect an' support from both fans an' colleagues alike.  I train hard, wrestle harder, an' I never give up.  NEVER. Trouble is, this is th' IIWF.  I'm beginnin' t' see tha' it takes more than ability an' drive t' be a champion 'ere.  Tha's why this is the premiere promotion in all o' wrestlin'.  I was damned lucky t' have Andrew by me side 'gainst Verhoeven, 'cause 'tis plain I'd never have walked away from tha' match wi' a win, no' th' way these bastards play th' game.  But I have t' hand it t' ye, Otto, ye played t' win, an' I cannae fault ye fer tha'.  Me cousin's gone back t' Scotland, an' I dinnae ken when 'e'll be back, so I'm on me own once again.  I can deal wi' tha'.  I reckon I'm just' goin' t' have t' smarten up a wee bit if I'm t' get t' th' top o' tha' mountain where tha' great windbag Requiem's currently squattin'.  'Twas foolhardy o' me t' keep harryin' Byron when I had a chance t' win th' World title.  One goal at a time, an' if I'm t' gun fer only one belt, then 'tis clear t' me tha' it has t' be th' World belt.  'Tis also clear wha' I'm goin' t' have t' do t' get a shot. Prepare yuirself, Requiem, 'cause Duncan Macbeth is comin' fer ye - but I promise ye, 'twill no' be th' Duncan Macbeth ye've come t' ken... [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Derek Mota ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Cut to the IIWF interview area, one week after IIWF's Coronation Clash. Derek Mota is standing in his street attire, a black adidas shirt, with jeans and high top shoes.   Mota is looking calm but intense.] DM: So Petrow, ya didn't win.  I said ya deserved it, but you just didn't give enough.  Hate ta tell ya, guy, but Kowalski just pulled out more tricks than you did.  So he beat ya. You thought you were gonna play mind games with me?  It didn't work, Petrow. I played your game, and showed you just how things can be reversed.  Yeah, I lost the match, but I showed ya.  I like you, Petrow.  But next time we get in the ring, I'm gonna get my turn.  You can count on that. [Mota begins pacing around the interview area.  He is beginning to wear a look of anger and frustration on his face.] And Genesis... Genesis.  What did I tell ya?  I WILL get revenge.  I don't care how long it takes, who I have to hurt, but you guys will go down.  I was the one who ended the Syndicate, beating Casey James, and then that little weasel Tiger Claw, and you guys are next on my hit list.  Backstreet Boy, you were the first to feel the Nighttime Mugging.  Requiem... You're gonna find out what the Damnation is all about.  Keep watching your back. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Prophets of Rage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade in: The Prophets of Rage stand before their black and purple backdrop with their logo on it.  The Prophets do not look happy.  Pizzazz tries to console Derek by sponging him down with water and embracing him. It doesn't seem to work.] SR: Yeah, the IIWF got what it wanted, didn't it?  The Prophets had started to assert their rights and what happens?  The referee chooses to go blind long enough for Cold Spell to win.  Just had to have that Genesis takeover, didn't you?  Figured it would be good for the gates, good for the IIWF.  Especially since you couldn't control us regardless of what you wanted to do.  Yeah, understand this, what you did was set us free, IIWF. You set us free.  We are still the best tag-team in the world today.  The best the IIWF has seen by far.  Think we're going to just curl up in a ball and cry because we're not the champions any more?  Ha.  You think it's over between the Prophets and the IIWF tag-team championships?  Ha. We breathed life into the dead ranks of your tag-teams.  That was what we were supposed to do.  We did our job just like you guys asked us when we worked out the contracts.  But now you had to go and try to steal our thunder when you realised we would never be corporate marks.  We would never be controlled by you up in the ivory towers.  Now we get to go back to war.  [Derek Rage steps forward, putting his giant hand over the screen.] DR: The world is going to go dark.  That's the hand of God you see covering the screen.  That's the last thing a lot of you people are going to see.  We're on the warpath now.  Harlequins.  That means you.  Team Sychosys.  That damn sure means you.  Violence Unlimited, we'll teach you exactly what unlimited violence is all about.  Yeah and then we go back and dance with Cold Spell.  The Age of the Rage hasn't ended in the IIWF. It's being rewritten.  The saga will continue.  Rage forever. SR: And you know this.  We ain't gonna stop.  We're gonna keep doing exactly what it is that we do.  We aren't changing.  We aren't even going to whine and complain.  No, you did your job.  Now we're going to do ours. That's a bona fide fact.  That's the way it is.  And that is the way it will be. DR: And Soundbite, we ain't forgot you, either, "brother."  You think you can make all those cracks at ringside?  No, that's going to be the mistake.  Shoot, Soundbite?  I'd be glad to.  You don't ever talk about my woman, Roberts.  You don't ever talk to her.  And you don't ever make cracks about "brothers" again.  Hear me? SR: It's gonna be hell up in the IIWF now.  The Prophets of Rage have looked down from their thrones and seen the disorder of the world.  And with a sweep of their hands the Hammer of God and the Angel of Death caused it to _D*i*e i*n D*a*r*k*n*e*s*s!_ [Derek Rage places his hand over the screen fading it to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Licensed For Devastation ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera opens to Reggie Starr and Jonathan Chaos, Licensed for Devastation, with a blue ocean backdrop.  Reggie is attired in a blue cut-off t-shirt, that reads "IIWF: Corrupt Little Hellhole" in a white hue, along with blue jean shorts.  Chaos has on a pair of red Umbro shorts and a plain black t-shirt... he also wears Ray Bans over his eyes.] RS: That sucked. JC: Yeah, who the hell booked a pay per view and left us out?  RS: Morons. JC: Don't worry... I'll be in hell watching snow tumble to the goddamn ground before that happens again. RS: Me too, and I'll be the [BLEEP]ing devil!  It seems that our allies Jimmy and J.P. left us here... that proves another point, that we never should trust anybody, Jon. JC: Yeah, we've only got each other, and that's who we should be leanin' on, not those has-beens.  It's all good though, 'cause now we're on the right course, and we've got a little challenge to hand out. RS: That's right, Licensed for Devastation, the only worthy of anything tag team in the IIWF is challenging The Syndicate.  Tiger Claw... Casey James... the ancient ones of the IIWF... once a hierarchical stable, now just a lowly tag team... after we're done with you, you'll be a can of V8 and a bottle opener! JC: That's right, Reg, we're off to a new beginning, and we ain't gonna slow down for nobody! RS: Who's the first victims, the first in line to be _devastated_? [Fade to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Violence Unlimited ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade in on Violence Unlimited, Jaguar and Mutilator, standing in front of the IIWF interview background, as always.] M: Coronation Clash has come and gone, and nothing shocking occurred as far as we are concerned.  Serge Annis joined Genesis... I'm not sure whether we are supposed to be surprised, but I can safely say right now that I am NOT surprised.  Jaguar is NOT amazed. J: Creed is gone... no he's not, Byron's gone.  Surprising?  [Jag laughs] No. M: Requiem as champ... we figured it would happen.  He had the easiest bracket, and he had a bunch of idiots backing him.  Seems to be prerequisite for World titles these days to have a Players' Club or a Syndicate or a Genesis.  I guess that makes Petrow or Kowalski next in line, with their Sychopaths and Furies. J: Kowalski and Petrow almost killed each other.  DEFINITELY no surprise. M: And as for Cold Spell's tag team titles, we will not say we are surprised at their luck, but we will say we're not gonna let up now that they're the big shots.  They'll still feel the pain we want to give them.  As for surprises... and big things... Coronation Clash will pale in comparison to Violence Unlimited's surprise.  When will you find out what it is?  What is it?  We can't tell you. J: You want a hint?  Its finisher is the Crimson Tide, it is comprised of Blackheart and a Tiger, it was known as the Pride of England, it has seven digits and a three digit area code in America, it's an Aristoclutch, it's a gold buckle with a leather strap, and it ends its interviews with a fade to black.  Y'know, we might just tell you the surprise now... M: Nah. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Last Resort ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The camera moves down the corridors of the Fleet Center, the sounds of a mariachi band playing Mexican tunes grow louder with every step. Eventually the camera stops outside a door; the sounds of the mariachi band are almost deafening. The door opens to reveal the Last Resort, who are celebrating their win over the Hollywood Bloods. On seeing the camera, the band quietens down a bit] MA: So then Bloods you finally got to show the world how big and bad you truly are -- BAD being the operative word. [Everyone bursts out laughing.] MA: Yeah, you made the same mistake that just about every other team has made when they have faced the Last Resort, you underestimated us -- and as a result you have another loss courtesy of a couple of burrito-breaths. [Everyone laughs again and the mariachi band starts to play, stopping only when El Diablo begins to speak.] ED: Is very good night for us! Not only do we get revenge on Hollywood Bloods but we also get shot at titles on 26th against the newly crowned champions Cold Spell. This is even more than I could have hoped for since joining IIWF, who would have thought that only couple of months ago I was considering retiring from wrestling and here we are one step away from gaining the tag team belts in the world's premier wrestling organisation. [Several more figures enter the room including Jumpin' Jack, Super El Gecko and Scott "The Whine" Bloom. They go over and congratulate Masked Avenger.] JJ: Well done, Avenger! You really showed them how it's done. MA: Thanks guys, I appreciate the support you've given me, you know if you guys keep hard at it you may even join the ranks of the stars like me, grab yourselves a drink. [The members of the Jobber Justice Squad help themselves to a drink as the band continues to play.] MF: Our big day has finally come and on the 26th of July my boys will be facing off against the newly crowned champs Cold Spell. That was an impressive win you managed to score yourselves over the Prophets of Rage, there's not many teams that could have taken that sort of punishment and still manage to come out on top. I'm just hoping that you extend the same courtesy to us and keep your Genesis buddies out of the action. We ain't interested in any of this "New Generation" crap that's going on, we're only here for three reasons, the wrestling, the titles and the fans, so let's settle this like men. [With that the band start up again drowning out any talking that is going on. The picture fades as Masked Avenger and the members of the Jobber Justice Squad dance on the tables, spilling beer everywhere. ] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Machines ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Paul Wong and Simon O'Neal are sitting down in their workout room, watching Coronation Clash on pay-per-view.  Paul has a bandage on his head, and Simon has a nasty bruise on his face.} PW: Coronation Clash was a great card, and congratulations to all of the winners.  We would have loved to have been there.  Unfortunately, something happened. SO: Specifically, Infinite Superiority happened... with some baseball bats.  But we're back now.          PW: We expect injuries in wrestling.  That's the nature of the sport.  But no one should expect to get attacked with baseball bats, and... [pauses, looks at Simon, who is grinning] What's going on?  You're acting like you ENJOY this! SO: Not enjoy, but... let me explain what a horrible mistake you "Gentlemen" made.  First of all, you've offended my partner's ideas of right and wrong.  I'm sure he can tell you exactly what Commandments and Cub Scout Tenets you broke by your attack.  As for me, I don't care that much for right and wrong.  [Paul snorts out loud]  I heard that.  But I don't like being jumped... and my theory is that the best way to prevent being jumped is to be so [BLEEP]ing feared that no one in their right minds would do that.  Anyway, you two seem to think that we're some sort of punching bag.  [Shakes his head slowly, then smirks for the camera]  I guess we'll just have to make your lives a living hell.  And THAT, Paul, is why I'm smiling.  This is going to be fun. PW: [rolls his eyes before continuing] I don't like to use these tactics. Me, I just like a simple tag team match.  Four men, stay within the rules, may the best team win.  But Infinite Superiority have proven that they won't go that route.  I guess both LFD and the Nightriders are scared of us... SO: They're terrified.  I heard that Reggie Starr wets his bed when he thinks of opposing us. And why do you think the Nightriders ran out of here with their tails between their legs? PW: Well, we don't have any choice.  You chose this route.  So when my partner wants to reach into his bag of tricks, for once I'm not going to stop him.  No jokes, no arguments.  Just two men who are going to fight back. SO: No jokes, no arguments now.  Licensed For Devastation, when you had the Nightriders at your side, you outnumbered us, you jumped us, and you hurt us.  Unfortunately, now that jailbird Jimmy Hawk and that never-was J.P. Steele have run out of the IIWF for fear of facing us, you're gonna have to take the beating for the both of them. Our only question is simple. [He pauses] What's your excuse going to be when we destroy you? [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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+