[Fade up to an image of the familiar IIWF Coliseum in Portland, Oregon. Absolute Zero's "Welcome to the Resurrection" starts to play as scenes from last week's edition of IIWF Saturday Night: Watkins hits a flying superbomb on Creed to the arena floor; Requiem and the rest of Genesis beat on Derek Mota and Deathbringer. As the music hits a high point, the IIWF logo seems to seep on to the screen in blood red letters...]                  #####     ######   ###            ##########              ########## ########## ####       ##  ##########              ########## ########## ####  #   #### ########                #####      #####    #### ##  ##### ####                 ####       ####    #### ### ####  ####                 ####       ####    ############# #########                 ####       ####     ########### #########                 ####       ####     ####  ####   ####              #########  #########   ###   ####   ####              #########  #########   ###    ##    ####               ########   ########   ##      #    ####              =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ## =-=-=-=                INTERNATIONAL INTERNET WRESTLING FEDERATION             =================================================               "COUNTDOWN TO SATURDAY NIGHT" - 8 August 1997             ================================================= [Scene cuts to the Countdown set, complete with a desk with small ring ropes on the edges, and a large video wall behind the figure seated at the desk, who is cast in silhouette while various highlights of recent IIWF events flicker past behind him. The lights rise, and the figure looks up from his papers, revealing Larry Morton. He smiles at the camera and speaks as the music fades out:] LM: Hi there, folks, and welcome to another edition of "Countdown to Saturday Night." I'm your host, Larry Morton, and over the next sixty minutes we'll be discussing all the action coming your way tomorrow night in the finest two hours of wrestling entertainment anywhere in the world. We'll be hearing from the IIWF superstars, and, in just a moment, taking a look back at the events of this past Wednesday. [Larry turns to face another camera. The shot cuts to follow him.] But first, a quick word on the whereabouts of my co-host, Brian Lau. Unfortunately, Mr. Lau is suffering from stabbing pains in his forehead at the moment, undoubtedly the result of extremely high tension in the IIWF front office over the past few days. On behalf of the "Countdown" team, I hope you feel better soon, Brian. It appears that the ongoing discussions in the front office which are causing so many problems could prove to be pivotal in the very future of the IIWF -- but in the absence of any clear knowledge about how things are likely to proceed, all I can do is assure you that the IIWF President will do everything in his power to clear up the dispute. In the meantime, the show must go on, so let's take a look at the Wednesday rewind. [Clips of the final moments of each bout are shown with the results superimposed at the bottom.] ======================================================================== -----------------------WEDNESDAY-WAR-ROOM-RECAP------------------------- ======================================================================== Wednesday War Room Results: 6 August 1997 1. Licensed For Devastation def. Barnacle Brothers 2. Dexter St. Croix [debut] def. El Super Gecko 3. Tonnage def. Rotundo #1 4. The Equalizers [debut] def. Scott "the Whine" Bloom & Casey C. 5. NON-TITLE: Dirt Dog Unique Allah def. "Majestic" Maurice McArthur [DQ] 6. Prophets of Rage def. Hollywood Bloods 7. Tony Starks def. Kevin "Cavalier" Christiansen 8. The Syndicate def. The Last Resort [The clips continue to roll on the video wall behind Larry as he speaks:] LM: What a night it was -- two more debuts, as the final members of the latest batch of new blood hit the IIWF's rings for the first time. Cruiserweight Dexter St. Croix proved that he's a very promising athlete with an assured victory over the Gecko, but that promise will be truly tested tomorrow night when he goes up against Tonnage in what could prove to be a career-shortening match. The Equalizers were the other newcomers to make their first appearance. A forboding partnership of the younger brother of one of the most well-known "loop" superstars, "The Superstar" Steve Sampson, and former bounty hunter Scott Paulson, these two men displayed great continuity in the ring. But do they have the drive to succeed in the IIWF? My broadcast colleague, Becky LaRue, suggested that a match between Licensed for Devastation, who scored their first victory in their fourth appearance on Wednesday night, and the Equalizers would be a good test of their mettle, and I agree. Reggie Starr and Jonathan Chaos, on the other hand, got their first victory -- but weren't satisfied with that. They felt the need to interject themselves in the match between the Prophets of Rage and the Hollywood Bloods, ostensibly trying to cost the Prophets the match. However, in an apparently inadvertent error, they ended up striking Clark Watson with a steel chair, and thus cost the Bloods the match. It was certainly an impressive showing from every member of the Age of Rage on Wednesday night: Tony Starks secured a submission victory over young Kevin Christiansen, the Prophets took a victory over the Bloods, and the Dirt Dog took a bizarre disqualification win from what amounted to a handicap match against Team Sychosys -- the Cruiserweight Champ, having been slated to face Majestic Maurice McArthur, ended up facing both Triple M and Joe Petrow in the same match. Tensions are certainly running as high in the rings as they are in the front office at the moment -- even the Cavalier snapped and made an uncharacteristic attack on Timothy N. Turner, who continues to turn heads with his unrelenting humiliation tactics. It was indeed a war on Wednesday night -- but we're expecting a positive meltdown tomorrow night in the Coliseum. ======================================================================== ----------------------SATURDAY-NIGHT-PREVIEW---------------------------- ======================================================================== [Stock footage of large nuclear explosions, complete with "mushroom" clouds, rolls in slow-motion on the video wall behind Larry as he speaks:] LM: The fallout from last week's Saturday Night broadcast is still being felt. Genesis continued their displays of strength, Derek Mota being beaten within an inch of his life not once but twice in the same evening, and Requiem and his pack of dogs also laid a beating on two former World Champions in Deathbringer and Casey James. We have a new Intercontinental Champion in Mad Dog Watkins, and he will speak about his shocking betrayal of Creed -- who may now, it appears, have walked out of the IIWF for good -- for the first time tomorrow night. We sent Steve Summer to try and get some comments from the Mad Dog, but with little success: [Footage begins to roll on the video wall behind Larry. He swivels his chait to get a better look. As the caption, "Earlier Today" appears in the corner, the shot mixes through to the actual footage: the corridors of the world-famous IIWF Colisem in beautiful downtown Portland, Oregon.  Down a darkened corridor, heavy footsteps ring out as a large figure approaches cloaked in the shadows of the corridor. As the figure approaches, young Steve Summer looks into the camera and begins to speak.] SS: Uhm... hi.  Seems that I've been given the *gulp* privilege of tracking down the new Intercontinental Champion - Mad Dog Watkins - and seeing what he has to say for himself following last week's betrayal of Creed.  Here he comes now... [As Summer turns to the approaching figure, he swallows hard and can be heard to say "Oh...gee...thanks Mr. Morton for the assignment..."  As Watkins strides, he steps into the light and his appearance is revealed. He wears faded blue jeans and the now-familiar "Be Afraid.  Be Very Afraid." t-shirt.  In his left hand he carries his duffel bag, to which the IIWF Intercontinetal belt is strapped across the handles.] SS: Mr. Watkins? [Waktins keeps walking past Summer, making his way to the ring for his workout.  But then, surprisingly, Watkins stops and turns around.  Summer - fearing the worst - quickly shies away and takes a step back.] MDW: What do you want, Summer? SS: I'm just trying to get your comments on what happened last week with Creed.  I mean... he was the man.  You guys had everything going for     you.  I don't understa... MDW: Can the "Say it ain't so, Joe" crap, son.  The phone's been ringing off the hook for a whole week now.  "Why'd you do it, Mad Dog?"... "Let's get an interview, Mad Dog".  You guys want the scoop?  You tell Tim Dross -- tommorrow night... in the ring.  SS: But, I... MDW: That's right, I'm pulling a Quigley.  Now take your GED-seeking ass back home to yo momma's place.  You want the scoop?  Watch the damn show tommorrow, cause I ain't gotta damn thing to say until then. [Cut back to Larry in the studio as he swivels back to face the camera.] LM: Well, folks, we'll hear what the Mad Dog has to say tomorrow night. And another man who tried to change the course of IIWF history last week, Mr. Damage, who enacted a shocking controversy against not only Requiem and Genesis, but the entire IIWF, by substituting an official with his own twin brother in an effort to effectively steal the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship. Mr. Damage has, however, paid the ultimate price: he received a heavy beating from Genesis, bad enough to put him in the hospital, and this past week, he was visited by the bearer of bad news: [SCENE: the intensive care ward of Portland Private Hospital. Mr. Damage lies in a hospital bed barely conscious. He is being attended by a ravishing nurse who wants to empty his bed pan. On the other side of the bed sits Mrs. Damage with tears in her eyes, and Dave Alfonso with an eyepatch over his left eye, and his face all red from Mace being sprayed by Gabrielle. President Spreadbury walks into the room with a train of lawyers following behind.] MD: [whispering] What do you want? DS: I would like to give you this. [Damage is handed a document from President Spreadbury. Damage quickly scans the document.] MD: [Damage sits up] What?! Termination of contract?! What's all this about? DS: Last Saturday, I was in shock at what unravelled before my eyes. You have gone too far this time, Damage. At first it was that Santa Claus incident at Anchorage at Christmas last year. I turned a blind eye. Then you kidnapped Harlequin Melody and subjected her to things degrading to women -- and again I put it to the back of my mind. Then you put not only the "Real Deal" Luke Steele out with chloroform, but an IIWF Referee as well. I fined you a record amount, but still you blatantly break the rules. I am at the end of my tether about what to do with you, so you have left me with no alternative but to terminate your contract. MD: Are you pullin' my chain? You have got to be kiddin' me. I do not believe this. You are -- _firing_ me? What am I supposed to do? Crackin' heads and bustin' jaws is all I know. This is a conspiracy, who's paying you? I'll double it, Dave, get your cheque book out. DS: No one is paying me anything, and I am shocked that you would think so. Don't get me wrong, Damage, you are one of the best athletes in this sport, but instead of relying on your natural ability you resort to cheating. Here is your severance pay, which will be yours if you sign this pink slip. [He hands it to Damage, who gets a pen, then looks at the slip and smiles when sees the sum of the severance settlement.] MD: All right, Spreadbury, have it your way. [Damage signs the paper] But don't think I'm gonna let you or your pencil-necked wrestlers in the IIWF, a promotion I was once proud to be in, are gonna get off the hook that easy. I will ensure that every waking hour for the rest of my life is going to bring the downfall of you and the IIWF. [Damage hands the paper to Spreadbury, then offers his hand to the President, President Dan warily puts his hand in Damage's for a firm shake.] Nice doin' business with you. Now get out of here, I don't have to answer to you no more. Piss off.  [Spreadbury shakes his head and turns to walk out the room and says.] DS: Oh, by the way, Damage, I wouldn't think about coming back to the IIWF -- because you are not welcome. MD: I wouldn't come back if you paid me, now get out of here. [Spreadbury leaves, Damage lies back down.] MD: Thank goodness that's over. I thought Spreadbury was gonna kill me. But I swear, one day, that gold will be around my waist. [Cut back to the studio.] LM: So the career of Mr. Damage comes to an end here in the IIWF. I won't shed any tears for his departure -- such a flagrant rulebreaker surely deserves the sticky end which he has finally met. But let's not dwell on that: the wrestling action lined up for the show tomorrow night is truly one of the most incredible cards I've seen in a long time. Let's run it down, match by match: ---------------------------- Tonnage vs. Dexter St. Croix ---------------------------- LM: As I mentioned earlier, it's going to be "make or break" time for two of the IIWF's newest wrestlers tomorrow night -- and with the human condominium, as he has been termed by former opponent Chris Quigley, in the ring against a man less than half his weight, we will get our first good look at Tonnage in singles competition. Let's go to comments from the big man now: [SCENE:  Tonnage is in the locker room, a towel around his neck, preparing for a sparring session. Little Louie is taping his right hand; upon finishing, he puts on that massive, fingerless glove for the big man.] T: Thanks, Lou. LL: That's what I'm here for, T.  While I work on the left one of these, you should tell that cameraman what's going to happen to Dexter St. Croix tomorrow night. T: Indeed. Well, Dex, you were very impressive on Wednesday... for a scrub, that is. Did you take a long, hard look at what I did to that butterball afterwards? That is a drop in the bucket compared to what's in store for your sorry ass, I'm afraid.  You're in the sad position of being a stepping stone, and I'm in the rather unusual position of needing one.  See, around here, I'm somehow thought of as a rookie, simply because the IIWF's never had the pleasure of my company before.  That means that I have to impress people here in order to eventually get around to title shots... as if the mere sight of me isn't impressive enough.  Be that as it may, St. Croix, I'm not going to go _too_ hard on you; after all, you're new here too, and you've never given me a reason to. Nope, I can't hold your scrubicity against you, so it wouldn't be fair if I tried to inflict geniune anguish on your feeble body.  There is one thing working against you, though.  Well, a whole _helluva_ lot of things are working against you, as far as this match goes, but I'm not referring to your lack of talent, or the way in which every manouevre you like to use is totally useless against me.  You remind me of another scrub, a very irritating one who could never get it through his head that he should leave well enough alone.  His name isn't important; it's enough to say that he was an annoying dreadhead who couldn't speak English properly to save his life.  I really hope you aren't like that, or else I just may do something to you that I'll regret later.  Well, for an hour or two, anyway. I want a couple of people to watch *very* closely, and see exactly what kind of devastation I wreak on poor little Jamaican Joe here.  Queer Man, you and I will most definitely meet in the future, and the results will be exactly what they were the first time we met.  Remember that the next time you go spouting off about who kicked whose ass.  How many moves did you do, what, two?  Three?  Sure, more than you can count, but still, not very many in comparison to what you got in return... including your miserable ass pinned. Looks like you've got your hands full right now, though.  So, it falls to the midget instead.  Well, Jericho, don't have much to say for yourself, eh? Too busy wetting your pants, undoubtedly.  Don't get too comfortable in that closet; sooner or later, I'll find you, and then you're finished. Turner holds nice parties and all that, but in the ring, he's no Beast, of that you can be sure. That's my time, chum.  Find yourself a chair out there, get yourself some popcorn, and enjoy watching me take ol' double J apart.  Later. [Fade. Cut back to the studio.] LM: Tonnage is certainly confident in his own abilities -- but when you are certain that you are as big and strong as a sixteen-wheel semi, you have every reason to be. However, his Jamaican opponent for tomorrow night's match believes he may have Tonnage's number: [SCENE: a crowded beach in Miami. Sun worshippers are everywhere, lying on beach towels, playing volleyball, frolicking in the surf. A kid runs by chasing a small white dog, who appears to be dragging the kid's beach towel. The camera follows the dog until he comes to an abrupt stop at the flip-flop-clad feet of a black man. The man reaches down and picks up the dog, and as the camera pans up we see that the man is Dexter St. Croix. He is dressed in a tie-dyed shirt and khaki shorts, with a Miami Dolphins cap atop his head. He takes the towel from the dog's mouth, throws it over his shoulder, and pets the dog lightly on the head. The dog licks his hand as he draws it away. The kid finally appears, out of breath. Dex sets the dog back down on the sand andhands the towel to the kid, who smiles at Dex and takes the towel.] Kid: Thanks, mister! DSC: You're very welcome, young mon. [The kid and the dog skip away as the camera focuses in on Dex] DSC: Children and animals, dey see right t'rough to da soul, mon. Right to da soul. [Dex reaches into his shirt pocket, withdraws a hand-rolled cigarette, and lights it with a Zippo lighter. He takes a long draw and exhales] DSC: Tonnage. Da name describes da man, no? You're a big man, Tonnage, with a big reputation an' big plans. And by da luck o' da draw, you got me in your first match an' I got you, mon. So I guess you plannin' on usin' me as your first steppin' stone on da way to riches an' fame 'ere in da IIWF, no? Well, big man, ya got another t'ing comin'. [Dex takes a drag from his cigarette.] DSC: You see, Tonnage, I don' care where ya been or how big ya are, mon. To me, you're just another man tryin' to step on me dream. So bring ya big ass down to da ring dis Saturday night, 'cause da bigger dey are... [Dex takes a drag from his cigarette and stares into the camera.] DSC: ...ya know da rest, mon. [Fade.] LM: It's going to be a true clash of styles in this match, and the question is: does St. Croix have the firepower to even take Tonnage off his feet, let alone put him away for the three-count? We'll find out tomorrow night. ------------------------- Highwayman vs. Derek Mota ------------------------- LM: The canny Canadian, Derek Mota, has been a constant thorn in the side of Genesis for as long as the group has existed. Incredibly, no matter how many times he is beaten to within an inch of his life, the self-proclaimed "heatseeker" of the IIWF keeps on getting back up. Last week, we saw him beaten not only by pinfall by Scott Rogers, but also beaten like a helpless animal by the entire horde -- although the sight of Mota executing that shooting star press all the way from the top rope to the outside onto a shocked Requiem will live in the minds of the fans of the IIWF for some time to come. Nonetheless, when Requiem called out anybody with enough guts to face Genesis after Mr. Damage had also succumbed to Genesis' might, it was Mota who answered the call first -- and once again, he ended up on the receiving end of a brutal attack. But he will not give up -- and he may be ready to switch tactics as he prepares to face the Highwayman tomorrow night: [Cut to a locker room in the IIWF Coliseum.  Above each and every locker rests the name of future legends.  IIWF Franchise Joe Petrow.  Creed. Brody Thunder ... and many others.  In the opposite corner lies the lockers for the blue collar workers of the IIWF ... the Jobber Justice Squad. Derek Mota is just standing in front of the lockers, a nasty smile on his face, holding a steel chair in one hand.] DM: They told me I shouldn't go out there tomorrow night. But then again, Derek Mota's career has never gone where everybody told me to bring it. I'm headin' out there on Saturday, Highwayman and the rest of your crew.  And I'm warnin' ya... I won't be the happy kid that you've seen the past few weeks. You guys've just reminded me what the whole damn world's all about... cheatin' and lyin' your way to the top.  You wanna play that game, Genesis? I'm a player. [Mota drops the steel chair to the ground and walks around one of the benches back to his locker.] It's time for some blood to be shed.  I'm ready ta spill some.  [Mota smiles]  Damn right I am.  No more pretty boy Mota.  No more face Mota. Tomorrow night... it's revolution time once more. [As Mota walks out of the dressing room area, the camera pans down to the floor, a few feet away from the steel chair, where we see an unconscious "Nifty" Ned Norton lying on the ground, a gash in his forehead.  The camera begins to zoom in on the blood, and we hear the door slamming shut.  Cut back to the studio.] LM: Derek Mota promising a revolution tomorrow night. The Highwayman could not be drawn for comments this week, but we'll be hearing from his fellow Genesis members throughout the programme tonight. In fact, Genesis will feature very heavily in the opening half of tomorrow night's card, with representatives in three of the first four matches. First, the powerful Highwayman locks up with Derek Mota, and immediately afterwards, Serge Annis takes on the Phoenix. --------------------------- The Phoenix vs. Serge Annis --------------------------- LM: It would be easy to dismiss Serge Annis as the misfit in Genesis. He joined the stable only a few weeks ago at Coronation Clash, when he turned on his apparent partner in the so-called "Unholy Alliance," Deathbringer, but immediately questions were raised by certain observers as to whether Annis really has what it takes to make it in a group like Genesis. This past Wednesday, Serge was given the opportunity to answer that very question in a special interview with Steve Summer. Let's go to that footage: [Cut to footage captioned: "IIWF Wednesday War Room. Wednesday 6 August." Steve Summer stands in the ring, holding a microphone. The crowd politely pop for their semi-favorite IIWF TV personality. Steve turns the mic on, and starts the interview.] SS: Hello IIWF fans! This is a special interview taped exclusively for "Countdown to Friday Night". I want to bring a man out, who has a match up this coming Saturday Night, against the man who recently defected from Genesis. Please welcome, one of The Genesis Generation, Serge Annis! [The crowd begins to boo madly, except for the members of The Genesis Generation who cheer. "Some Days It's Dark" by Death Lurks plays over the speakers in the arena, as the lights drop to a red, crimson colour. The 6'8" resident of Oakville, Ontario, and recent defector to Genesis makes his way to the ring, wearing his black ring pants. Annis wears a pair of black wire-rimmed glasses and rolls into the ring and towers over Steve Summer. The music cuts, and the lights raise. The majority of the crowd boo.] SS: Well Sergey, you requested some mic time, and here it is. SA: First of all, I'd like to thank the IIWF, and Mr. Spreadbury for finally getting off their rears and giving me some time... and my match against Phoenix [face pop]. Second... don't ever call me Sergey again, Summer. SS: Well then, _MR_. Annis, things seemed to go Genesis' way on Saturday night. SA: They certainly did. And that is the way it should be. People are coming out here wearing the IIWF logo, and saying how Genesis have to be stopped, The 'old' generation is better, and a heck of a lot more B-S than I care to say... We never claimed not to be IIWF. As far as I can recall, IIWF signs our pay cheques, so we are happy. In fact, we _ARE_ the IIWF now. So every time some peon comes out here like Ronnie Paris, or Luke Steele, bearing the IIWF logo, they are basically showing their support to Genesis. SS: Uhm... okay... a rather, unique viewpoint there, Mr. Annis. SA: Last Saturday night, things did in fact go the way we wanted. Things may have gone a little "un-planned" like Mr. Damage's pathetic attempt at being the IIWF World Champion, but in the end Genesis walked out on top... again. Fact is, people are tired of Genesis' ways... Genesis' attitudes. We damn well earned the rights to have those Genesis attitudes. People say we are nothing more than a good old fashioned gang. Well, I can't deny that. But look at facts, Summer, who is the IIWF World Champion? Who are the IIWF World Tag Team Champions? It's a good system Summer, and Genesis know how to apply it. Do what you can to win, if you know what I mean. If that means burning someone's face, I've shown that I have no problem with that. And if it means I watch someone's back, then that's the way it is. SS: Well, Mr. Annis, we all know you are not one to take criticism well, but let's talk about what the critics have been saying about you. People are calling you the weak link of Genesis, Genesis' one downfall. Basically, people are thinking that you don't even belong in Genesis. [Annis lunges his arms out and grabs Steve by his shirt and shakes him a bit.] SA: Do you think that I care what people are saying about me? Do you? Do you think that deep down, I god-[bleep] [bleep]'ing care?! [Annis lets go of Steve and calmes down as a disorientated Steve re-adjusts his collar.] SS: No, it would appear not. But please Serge... what about it? SA: What about it? I am going to tell it like this. Right now, I agree. I agree that The Epitome of Evil is not quite living up to Genesis' expectations. But there is only one way... one way that I can prove my own worth to Requiem. To Highwayman. To Genesis, and to the IIWF. That one way, is by beating Phoenix, the man who had the nerve to defect from Genesis. See, Phoenix has to pay a price right now. To everyone in Genesis. And believe me, Summer, he will pay. _BUT_ I have seen to it, that I will get my hands on him first. SS: That match of course will happen Saturday. SA: Yes... it will. Nearly two weeks after the original challenge. I'm not going to comment on why it took so damn long for the IIWF committee to sign the match, because I don't want to steal Quigley's lines... but fact is, the IIWF finally got around to the match. Which is great for me, but horrid for you, Phoenix. And right now, I want everyone out there to shut up, while I do something I need to do. Right now, I want _YOUR_ IIWF World champion, to come out from behind that curtain, and step between the ropes and into the ring with me _RIGHT_ _NOW_, because I have something I want to say to him. [From the PA system comes the all-too familiar words: "From this day forth, until the end of time, there shall be no mercy for the damned!" The lighting dies save for a pale blue spotlight, which escorts Requiem and Gabrielle to ringside as "The Music Of The Unknowingly Damned" echoes menacingly through the arena. The lights return to normality as Requiem and Gabrielle enter the ring.] RQ: Good evening, Steve Summer. G: Hi, Stevie... SA: Requiem... When I first joined Genesis, there was some bad blood     between you and I. You can not deny it. Also, when I first joined     Genesis, Nightwing had left around the same time. Nightwing flew the     coop. And we all know what has happened to him... he has become     Phoenix. I know for a fact that you want to get your hands on him. I     know that Adam wants to get his hands on him. Rogers and Cold Spell,     the same. But in the end, it turns out to be _ME_ who gets first crack at him. [Requiem nods his head, and mimes breaking a person in half. Gabrielle scowls and gives the "thumbs down" hand signal. Heel pop!] SA: Well Requiem... when I step into this ring with Phoenix, I want no help from you. None. I want no help from Adam, Gabrielle, Rogers or Cold Spell. I want no help from anyone. Promise me that Requiem. Promise me that I will have that match on my own... because I want to show you, and the rest of the world that I am not the over-rated hack some claim me to be. RQ: Serge Annis, Epitome of Evil, I cannot make you that promise, for I     will not make a promise I may not be able to keep. We know how sneaky, how treacherous, this "Phoenix" can be. Who knows what treachery and bedevilment he will pull out of his hat... G: Or is that "war bonnet"? hehehe... RQ: Who knows what would happen? Should I swear to leave you alone in the ring, only for the traitor Phoenix to bring down the _whole_ IIWF to beat you? For that is what it would take! Unlike these fools who listen to the whispered half-truths of our enemies, I know your _true_ value to Genesis. G: Serge, you're a tough guy, a top wrestler, no matter what these SOBs who don't like us much here in IIWF-land would have ya believe. Don't    buy into what they're whispering about you, 'cos it's all crap! RQ: Serge Annis, Genesis will be there to watch your back, but that is all we will do. I will promise you this: If you want Phoenix -- on     Saturday Night he's ALL YOURS! SA: Good... and with that Requiem, I give you this promise. I promise to     you, the greatest IIWF World Champion to date, that I will defeat     Phoenix, on my own. I will embarrass him for leaving Genesis. I will     make him suffer, and I surely will make him pay for his stupid     decision. I will twist his spine, snap his neck and dine on his     soul... and it is all dedicated to you. Because I owe it to you. RQ: Serge Annis, I want you to introduce Phoenix to nightmares beyond his imagining. Show him the true meaning of suffering. Reveal unto him the bitter-sweet songs of nerve endings tortured beyond their endurance. But remember, Serge Annis, no matter how hard he begs, no matter how pitiful he seems, DO NOT destroy the Phoenix. His suffering must last, and _all_ of Genesis must ensure that justice is served upon the Great Betrayer. [Requiem laughs evilly, a chilling sound that echoes throughout the arena. Mega heel pop! Gabrielle leans over and embraces Serge Annis.] G: Go to work, dude! [Cut back to the studio.] LM: Serge Annis certainly seems to have the confidence of his leader, Requiem, but nonetheless, he will be looking to make an example out of the high-flying Phoenix tomorrow night. The young Native American certainly faces nigh-on insurmountable odds when he heads down to the ring tomorrow night, a ring which will be surrounded by men furious that he would turn his back on them. Will the Phoenix Spirit that has turned around the fortunes of the wrestler formerly known as Nightwing be able to take him to victory over, let's face it, not just the "Epitome of Evil," but every man who will surround that ring tomorrow night? We'll see. --------------------------------------- IIWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: Cold Spell [c] vs. Violence Unlimited --------------------------------------- LM: Violence Unlimited have been making noises about a very special surprise since Coronation Clash, but to date, they have refused to give any indication as to what they might be referring to. Perhaps we will find out tomorrow night, because if ever there was a time that they needed something unexpected on their side to even the odds, it is tomorrow night, when they square off against the World Tag Team Champions, Cold Spell. For the first time since pledging their allegiance to Genesis, tomorrow night, Cold Spell will apparently be accompanied to the ring by the entire Genesis entourage. Steve Summer went to talk to young Icehawk about this development: [SCENE: Cold Spell's familiar training camp in northern Michigan. Steve Summer and Icehawk are walking along the shoreline. Steve is wearing a light jacket, but still looks cold. Icehawk is wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that says "Get Well Soon, Vlady" on it.] SS: It's August! Why is it cold here again? HAWK: Cold? You _are_ a wimp. SS: I am not! But anyway, this is your first interview in a while, and you were noticably absent from the Genesis group on Saturday night. What's up with that? HAWK: [shrugs] They didn't need me. They already outnumbered Derek five to one. I decided to get some extra training in. SS: But there's been some rumors that a couple of members of Genesis are unhappy with your attitude, and want to replace you with a more "fitting" team -- like your opponents Saturday, Violence Unlimited. HAWK: Well, I think I know who you are talking about, and they might be right. VU is made up of a bunch of thugs who never actually win anything, so they would fit right in with a couple of the guys. Fitz and I are the World Tag Team champions. I have some respect for Requiem's opinion, just because he wears that big gold belt. But that's it. SS: So does that mean we will continue to see Cold Spell come to their matches alone? HAWK: [sullenly] No. The other guys will be with us Saturday. Fitz has decided that VU is too dangerous, and there are too many teams that could jump us, so we'll be travelling as one big pack. SS: You don't seem too happy about that. HAWK: You noticed, huh? [With that, Icehawk turns and starts jogging up a sand dune, quickly vanishing over the other side. Fade.] LM: As ever, Icehawk appears to be less than content with his loss. To some degree, he has my sympathies -- he is torn between his natural desire to receive plaudits from the fans, and his equally natural desire to be the best at what he does. Icehawk is a tremendously competitive individual -- his history in the Olympic games is testament to that fact -- but his partnership with Fitz is one built not only on that competitive spirit, but on personal loyalty and friendship. It will take more than a difference of opinion to drive a barrier between Icehawk and his partner, particularly when they have the presence of the IIWF World Tag Team Championships to galvanise their efforts. But at the same time, I have to wonder whether Icehawk wouldn't be better off standing up for his beliefs. Every day that goes by, he sublimates his feelings of unease at being involved in a group whose ethics are so clearly very different -- and some would say corrupted -- to his own. Perhaps soon the day will come where Icehawk is forced to make the stand: and on that day, which way will he jump? ----------------------------------------------------- IIWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: Dirt Dog Unique Allah [c] vs. "Enigma" Takezo Musashi ----------------------------------------------------- LM: In all the tumult caused by the way in which Genesis have steamrollered their way over the rest of the IIWF, the personal tumult of one man has largely been forgotten. I speak, of course, of the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi, a man who, more than ever, has struck out on his own, on a path which has been, some might say, self-destructive. Certainly, the "Enigma," perenially one of the brightest stars in the constellation of the IIWF, has had his problems -- not least the fact that the men whom he considers his closest allies, despite their differences, the White Phoenix Shinja Chow, and Hakiro Matsuoko, have both moved on from the IIWF, both in search of themselves as much as of new challenges. And now it appears that Musashi may be about to follow them. Throughout the past couple of months, when the "Enigma's" almost unhealthy obsession with Joe Petrow, the man who has seemed somehow to hold the key to Musashi's soul-searching, has caused him to take turns which have alienated him from his loyal fans, and have detracted from the recognition of his phenomenal athletic skills which are possibly second to none in the IIWF at the moment, it has seemed that he has been locked onto a course which can only lead in one direction: right out of the IIWF. Two weeks ago, Musashi walked out of the big ten man tag team match on the "Viewer's Choice" edition of Saturday Night, apparently facing far more troublesome opponents within himself than he faced across the ring that night -- and he has not been seen or heard from since. There is a distinct possibility that tomorrow night, we may see the "Enigma" for the last time -- but the Cruiserweight Champion is set on making sure that Musashi doesn't leave on a high note: [SCENE: The Age of the Rage have had a throne room constructed for their interview set.  Fake gold walls are sculpted with outlines of the various Prophets, Shadoe performing the Angel of Death Drop, Derek and Pizzazz embracing, Medusa, Unique, a woman's team called the Misfits.  And one of Tony Starks seems freshly engraved.  Unique Allah sits on a plush throne, wearing an ermine robe with a dented, battered crown.  He is surrounded by the Prophets and is band of beauties, the Doggettes.  Unique looks completely in the bag.  He's sitting there naked, the Cruiserweight belt folded strategically over his lap.] DDUA: You know what?  I make being a champion fun again.  That's what I do.  And I don't know which way the winds of fate are blowin', but it seems to me like they might want to groom some pretty white boy to try to take my championship next pay-per-view.  I ain't givin' away too much back room stuff, is I?  Well who cares!  What's that gotta do for me?  Nothin, dog!  Listen here, I got you saturday night, Takezo Musashi, if that's really your name.  I think you're really Jackie Chan!  Or some cheap carbon copy.  If you's wearing a mask I know you ain't real no Japanese. I mean just ask Paul "Kato" Diamond about that one.  They been pulling that nonsense for years.  And I ain't one to abide by it.  I mean, I ain't wearing black face!  Why you wearin' yellow?  I know that'll come off!  I know it! MR: Unique, he's legitimately Japanese.  Drop it. [Unique pauses.  He looks from face to face to face, seeing the truth in Medusa's words.  A tear starts to roll down his eye.] DDUA: What the hell have I done?  I'd like to take this time right bout now to apologise to my friend from the Pacific Rim.  I got some bad Sake or somethin'.  Maybe I'm just a crazy muhfuh who don't wanna wrestle no more.  I mean, I can't take this question and answer stuff no more.  I can't take being held up to a spotlight no more.  They keep comin' and asking, Dirt Dog, can you be a little bit crazier next time? What am I?  A gimmick?  [sobbing] I'm a man, Goddammit!  I'm a man!  Do you hear me, blackheart, I'm a man!  Cut the cameras off.  Tony, Tony, bruh, I love you man.  You gon carry on when the Dirt Dog disappears, right?  Say you'll take care of the family.  Oh Lord, who ever thinks of the children!  Who!  [Fade. The Dirt Dog's voice is heard aside saying: "Now that's an enigma." Cut back to the studio.] LM: Folks, who knows what's going to happen tomorrow night when these two unpredictable athletes step into the ring together? This promises to be an unforgettable contest. ----------------------------------------------- Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven vs. Duncan Macbeth ----------------------------------------------- LM: The rivalry between Duncan Macbeth and former IIWF World Champion and current #1 contender, Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven, has been simmering for some time -- and it finally exploded last Saturday Night, when Macbeth interjected himself in an interview with the Butcher, triggering a huge brawl. Now, this week, the two men will square off one-on-one for the first time since their double disqualification match at Coronation Clash. For Macbeth, the match is an opportunity to show Verhoeven that he can beat him at his own game: [SCENE:  The front lawn of the majestic Empress Hotel in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, just a short ferry ride away from the IIWF's home base of Portland, Oregon.  It is a beautiful sunny summer day in Canada's Garden City, and the Pacific ocean air blending with the scents of wild roses and stately cedars adds a fresh, invigorating atmosphere to the already tranquil setting.  On a park bench looking out over the B.C. capital's Inner Harbour, two men can be seen from a distance engaged in an animated discussion as the venerable old hotel looms in the background.  As the camera draws closer, the smaller of the two men rises to leave, extending a hand to his larger companion, who accepts it readily.  As the smaller man walks off, his identity cannot be discerned, although the back of his black jean jacket bears an elaborate rock 'n' roll style design with "Pantera" embroidered across the top.  A familiar blue and silver, saddlebagged BMW cruiser motorcycle can be seen parked behind the bench as the camera nears its subject, and finally the bearded, blond-maned Duncan Macbeth becomes recognisable, looking relaxed as he reclines on the bench, gazing out over the harbour and the Strait of Juan de Fuca.  Macbeth glances up as the camera crew approaches, a look of amusement crossing his newly-whiskered features.] DM: Och, I really don't ken how yis lot manage t' find me, no matter where in th' world I happen t' be!  Yis ought t' be workin' for "America's Most Wanted" instead o' th' IIWF, wha'!  Well, if it's an interview yis're lookin' for today, ye're in luck - as th' song goes, "I'm no' waitin' on a lady, I'm just waitin' on a friend." Nice view 'ere, wouldn't ye say?  I've no' been back in this part o' th' world for a long time now - I love Canada, wrestled 'ere for many years when I was first startin' out.  I thought Austria an' what used t' be West Germany were me favourite places in th' world t' visit an' wrestle, 'till I came 'ere t' Vancouver Island... reminds me a bit o' th' Highlands, with it's mountains an' streams.  An' rain.  Who knows, maybe someday I'll retire 'ere, wi' all th' rest o' th' British expatriates. Righ' now though, retirin's th' furthest thing on me mind.  Righ' now, all I'm thinkin' about is tha' great German blowhard, Verhoeven.  An' th' more I think on 'im, th' more me stomach turns.  This tosser thinks 'e's th' saviour o' th' IIWF?  Tha' if 'e becomes th' World champ instead o' Dead Wrestler #1, tha' soddin' Requiem, suddenly all will be righ' wi' th' world?  Th' Heavyweight Title belongs t' Germany's greatest athlete?  Maybe so, but personally, I think Steffi Graf would look terrible in wrestlin' tights, don't ye? [Macbeth chuckles to himself at the mental picture conjured up by this remark, then continues, his expression darkening.] Th' fact o' th' matter is, Verhoeven's th' biggest hypocrite currently infesting th' IIWF.  'E'll cheat, ambush, bully, an' otherwise rulebreak with impunity as 'e tries t' contend for a title shot, 'is wee tart aidin' an' abettin' 'im all th' while, an' THEN 'e has th' unbelievable GALL t' cry foul when someone uses 'is own methods against 'im!  'E's tried t' play silly buggers wi' me both times we've met, and at neither time did 'e walk out o' th' ring wi' th' victory.  Why?  'Cause I beat th' whinin' sissy at 'is own game, tha's why!  An' wha' REALLY makes me ill is how 'e's put th' fear o' God in t' th' suits o' this fed, nae matter WHAT 'e might tell ye... "Ohh, poor wee Otto, 'e blew ANOTHER chance t' win th' World title - but dinnae ye cry, sweetie, Uncle Danny'll let ye try again." I'm sick an' tired, Verhoeven.  I'm tired o' yuir whimperin' o'er Coronation Clash, an' th' fact tha' I beat ye before tha', by usin' th' very tactics ye've been all too willin' t' use yuirself yuir whole career. I'm sick o' th' way ye've tried t' intimidate th' whole o' th' IIWF, from th' locker room t' th' front office.  I'm sick o' yuir pathetic attitude, tha' th' IIWF owes you somethin' just because ye've been lingerin' 'round 'ere longer than some o' th' others.  Well, where I come from, tosser, ye don't get NOTHIN' unless ye can PROVE ye deserve it!  So go ahead an' prove it, tosser.  Prove it t' ME, tomorrow nigh' in Portland... if ye can.  'Cause if ye can't, I'm goin' t' prove t' th' whole IIWF what a lyin', cheatin', hot air spoutin' hypocrite ye really are!  Behind all yuir thuggery an' yuir scare tactics, ye're just a one-trick pony, Verhoeven, an' I can't WAIT t' take ye apart, piece by little piece. 'Cause I'm sick o' yuir bullyin', "Butcher". I'm sick o' tha' harlot o' yuirs, winnin' matches fer ye tha' ye'd have nae hope o' winnnin' otherwise wi' those three wrestlin' holds ye know. I'm sick o' YE.  Period. [As if on cue, at that moment a sleek, forest green Porsche Boxter convertible pulls up behind Macbeth, coming to a halt just a few feet behind the Scot's BMW cruiser.  "Steppin' Out" by Tony Bennett is abruptly silenced as the driver kills the CD player and engine and steps out of the small, high-performance automobile.  Timothy N. Turner, decked out in a sporty but nonetheless elegant Hugo Boss ensemble, Vuarnet wraparounds and driving gloves, cheeses it up for the camera for a moment before turning more serious and gesturing to Macbeth to join him.  The Highlander turns back to the camera, the familiar sparkle once more lighting up his jade-green eyes.] DM: Sorry lads, time's up.  Tim an' I have some business t' discuss... [With that, Macbeth rises from the bench, and walks over to where Turner is waiting, where the two men shake hands warmly, before turning and entering the main entrance of the ivy-covered Empress.  Fade.] LM: Apparently, Duncan Macbeth may have something cooking with Timothy N. Turner. However, the Scot's opponent will not be fazed. For Verhoeven, this is a match he simply cannot afford to lose. To cement his status as the top contender to Requiem's World Heavyweight Championship, he must beat Macbeth, and beat him convincingly. [SCENE: Verhoeven's gym. The massive German, his face covered with sweat, is working out on the weight machine, his expression showing the grim intensity the Butcher has shown since Coronation Clash. He continues his training for a moment, then stops and reaches out for a towel to wipe his face clean. He then glares at the camera.] OV: Duncan Macbeth. I have fought many men before, Tony Starks, the Subway Psycho, Chris Quigley, but you are something special. You see, while I truly _hate_ some of my opponents, I have no reason to hate you. You are just an irritating annoyance, a mumbling bum who just keeps coming back for more pain, an inbred fool who got lucky once and failed to see that he cannot survive a third clash! [He sits and back and sighes, visibly relaxing as the tension leaves his faces.] OV: You have stepped way over the line, Macbeth. Your insulting comments you insist on making won't help you in the ring, and there won't be a big cousin to cover your back and attack my fiancee. You claim I have cheated my way to the top? Ach, what an imbecile you are. That is the way this game is played, hard and fast, rough and tough. You know it and I know it and tomorrow night you will learn it all over again. [He again wipes his foreheard with the towel, and the strain of weeks of training becomes visible on his face.] OV: My friends tell me that I have to focus on Requiem, on Genesis, on the whole conflict that threatens to tear the IIWF apart. That I am spreading myself too thin. [Suddenly the old determination flickers in his eyes again and he glares at the camera.] OV: But I never backed down from a challenge and I never took insults from snivelling worms like you lightly. Our conflict has to end, Macbeth, and I will make sure that it won't be you who gets his hand raised in the end. Tomorrow night you will have to enter...THE SLAUGHTERHOUSE! [Fade to black as Verhoeven throws the towel over the camera. Cut back to the studio.] LM: Two big, powerful men will collide in the squared circle tomorrow night, folks, with far more at stake for both men than simply having their arms raised in victory after the bell. Expect both of them to pull out all the stops -- it's going to be a classic. ------------------------------------------ "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder vs. Ronnie Paris ------------------------------------------ LM: We haven't seen the third generation IIWF superstar, and now newlywed, Ronnie Paris, since his brutal beating at the hands of Genesis at Coronation Clash nearly a month ago. Since then, Paris has married his long-term girlfriend and fiancée, Maggie Collins, and the two have enjoyed a honeymoon at an undisclosed location -- but now Paris is back, and itching for success once more. However, he may have drawn the short straw in signing on the dotted line to face the "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder in his first match back. Thunder is certainly living up to his name in the days since his confrontations with Steve "the Fury" Kowalski these past couple of weeks: [Brody Thunder stands in an empty ring. The camera pans down from an overhead view to a front shot of Thunder, who stands in the center of the ring with his arms folded on his chest. He's dressed in street clothes, black jeans, white t-shirt with black vest and his trademark stogie is clenched firmly in his teeth.] BT: Don't bother adjustin' yer set. Yer right. Somethin' ain't quite right. An' it don't take no Perry mason ta figger it out. I'll get ta that deal in a minnit. But first I got me a message fer the latest suicide volunteer...     Ronnie Paris.     Here's the short an' sweet o' it, Paris... yer headin' fer a fall. I'm through pussy-footin' around with the likes o' you an' the rest o' the so-called superstars o' this organization. Time ta do what I do better'n anyone in this sport.     S'time ta start buryin' folks.     An' I'm startin' with you, Ronnie Paris. Yer young. Yer good. Yer a fine wrestler. But there's somethin' else yer gonna be...     ...an' that's next.     Next ta find out what this here hombre can do when he sets his mind ta somethin'. An' that somethin's beatin' you in the middle o' this ring...one, two, three. Jus' show up an' I'll take care o' the rest, ace. Now then... [Thunder rubs his jaw hard.]     Seems among alla the braggarts, pretenders, idjits an' curs that call the IIWF home... there's a new criminal. A thief. A thief named....     ...Steve Kowalski. [Thunder walks closer to the camera with his arms now down at his side.]     Well, Kowalski...where I come from there ain't but one way ta deal  with a thief. Ya make it so's he never wants ta steal anythin' ever again. In short... ya serve him a little ol' fashioned western justice... usually at the end o' a rope. [Thunder slaps his elbow in a mock clothesline fashion.]        Meet _my_ answer ta the noose, amigo.     Ya got somethin' o' mine ya shouldn't have. I aim ta take it back. Anyway... anyhow... anywhere. An' if ya think I'm foolin' around, hoss... then ya've made yer first mistake.     Tomorrow night we're both gonna be in this arena. An' we both know we're gonna run inta each other... be it in the locker room... the parkin' lot... or the flamin' Burger Palace down the road... it's gonna happen. An' when it does, I'm not only gonna knock yer ass in the dirt an' get my hat... I'm gonna get some respect... the ol' fashioned way... [The camera pans in for a tight close-up of a grimacing Thunder.]     ...I'm gonna _beat_ it outta ya.  They may call ya the Garden State Kid now... but when we're through... the only "garden" yer gonna be connected with... [Thunder drops the cigar to the mat and rubs it out with his boot.]     ...is a garden o' stone. Be seein' _you_ soon, hoss... _real_ soon. [Thunder exits the ring as the camera fades to black.] LM: Thunder will undoubtedly be trying to send a message to the New Jersey Nightmare tomorrow night when he locks it up with fellow Texan, Ronnie Paris -- but will the Fury be able to resist the lure of Thunder being in the ring? The rivalry between these two is rapidly rising to the same level of intensity as we saw between Brody Thunder and Mad Dog Watkins just a couple of months ago -- say what you will about Thunder, but he certainly takes things personal. --------------------------------------------------------- Steve "the Fury" Kowalski vs. "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley --------------------------------------------------------- LM: The Fury himself, of course, faces a very tough challenge tomorrow night in the form of one Chris Quigley, the man who has been truly resurgent since his disappointing elimination in the first round of the Coronation Clash tournament back in June. Since that time, he has scored the vital pinfalls in a Four Way Dance match against three of the IIWF's top superstars, and has also scored the pinfall in a wild ten man tag team match. Now, Quigley is going one-on-one with the man who has been called "the Next Big Thing" -- the man who, in many eyes, is the uncrowned champion of the IIWF. ["Snap Your Fingers snap Your Neck" by Prong cranks up as the black screen fades in. From the corner of the screen, a blazing laser burns the letters "I N D E S T R U C T I B L E" in the center of the screen, fading into a scene of Steve "The Fury" Kowalski no selling a Maddog Watkins powerbomb.] VO: [In a barely audible whisper] Can't be stopped. [From the opposite corner of the screen, a blazing laser burns the letters "I N D E S C R I B A B L E" in the center of the screen, fading into a scene of the New Jersey Nightmare in a mid-air tricycle moonsault.] VO: [Still in a faint whisper] Can't be solved. [From the third corner of the screen, a blazing laser burns the letters "I N D E P E N D E N T" in the center of the screen, morphing into numerous clips of the IIWF's #1 Heat-machine trading blows with members of Genesis.] VO: [Slightly louder whisper] Uncrowned champion. [Yet another beam burns the letters "M I D C A R D E R" in the center, imploding to "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley preparing to pin one half of the Bluto Brothers.] VO: [Now in a regular voice] Career victim. A stepping stone. An appetizer that will never be the... [From the bottom of the screen a final laser flashes and burns the letters "M A I N C O U R S E" in the center, warping out to the form of Brody Thunder being held back by security on the last IIWF Saturday Night.  The screen burns up all together, leaving only Steve Kowalski standing with the "Lone Wolf's" cowboy hat.] SK: Quigley yer a laughable never been, but a might make me work up a sweat. Tell a what, if a can take _my_ new hat, a can keep it. My good buddy Brody gave it to me. Ha ha ha ha! [Fade] LM: It's hard to imagine a greater clash of styles, and of personalities. On the one hand, you have Kowalski, a fiery, impulsive and dangerously unpredictable brawler, and on the other, you have a passionate but controlled technician, every bit as determined as the New Jersey Nightmare, but wishing to walk a different road. He is Chris Quigley, and I had the opportunity to conduct an interview with him earlier this week to discuss this blistering main event: [SCENE: A small, dull room, featuring two chairs and a glass table in between.  In one chair, sits IIWF veteran reporter Larry Morton.  In the other, sits IIWF veteran wrestler "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley.  Morton is in the usual IIWF reporter garb, a suit and tie, while Quigley is dressed in his faded jeans and black t-shirt which reads in white letters on front, "Quickstrike Island" and on back in sharp silver letters, "Trespassers Will Be Executed!".  Quigley takes a long drink from a water bottle as Morton speaks...] LM: Chris, it's been a while since myself or any of my associates have gotten to speak with you about the recent happenings in the Federation.  On Saturday Night, you will be facing one of the roughest, toughest, meanest men in the history of the sport, and incidentally, it's a match you requested nearly immediatly after Coronation Clash.  But first, let's speak of your own performance at Coronation Clash, and what led up to you, as some would put it, "clawing back up onto the mountain of contention".  In the qualifying round, you, and I won't pull any punches, you _astounded_ everyone with a tremendous display of resiliency against your nemesis, Otto Verhoeven.  I mean, _three chokeslams_?! CQ: [smirks]  Well yeah, in that match, all I could think of was that if I lost, I was finished.  And while I did lose, it came after outside interference.  Otto Verhoeven has and always will have my respect.  He's an extremely tough wrestler, but with all due respect, he could not beat me.  He did everything he could possibly think of, and it just wasn't enough. Anyone who doubts my toughess, or my ability to take an ass kicking and then get right back up and dish one out, you only need to pay more attention.  I know I shouldn't be letting a nobody like Steve Roberts under my skin, but when he says, "catfight" and then mentions my name, it pisses me off. Roberts is just trying my patience time and time again, and eventually, one bad remark at a bad time, and I'll rip the jerk's head off.  But enough time wasted on that never-was.  At Coronation Clash against Otto Verhoeven, then in the Four Way Dance, I think I demonstrated exactly what I can do, and that I'll do whatever it takes to succeed.  Should I be proud of that?  I really don't know, and frankly, I don't give a damn. LM: Despite your hopes that you were finished once and for all with Marty Warnett, it doesn't appear that way, at least not in Marty's eyes. CQ: [rolls his eyes]  I just don't get it, really.  I want you to answer me this, Larry.  Has Marty Warnett ever, _ever_ given the slightest indication during one of our matches that he can beat me? LM: Well, Marty has done quite well against you at times... CQ: [interupting] No.  Listen to me here.  The first match?  I had him in the Quickstriker till Deathbringer stepped in.  The second match?  I pinned him in the center of the ring.  I've tossed him out of battle royals.  I've brawled with him in aisles and parking lots.  And then, I pinned him in the Four Way Match.  And what does he say?  He complains about how I sprayed perfume in his eyes.  "What great technical skills Chris Quigley displayed," he cries.  It was my understanding that the damn match was no holds barred.  And then Warnett and a few other slimeballs have the gall to say that _I_ bitch and complain too much.  Warnett needs to grow up, and y'know, once he does, he'll probably be a great wrestler. LM: And Simon Lebec? CQ: Simon Lebec is a first class [BLEEP].  I won't be satisfied until I beat him cleanly in the middle of the ring, and anytime he wants the fight, he can come get it. LM: All right Chris, with those questions answered, I definitely have to talk to you about Steve Kowalski.  Following Coronation Clash, you immediately pressed President Spreadbury and Poutine Janois to allow you a match with Kowalski.  Then on Monday Musings, you came out and acted like a Kowalski fan.  What are your true thoughts on the man? CQ: [pauses]  Steve "The Fury" Kowalski.  Let's state the obvious.  He's a pretty big guy, but he's not a giant, by any stretch of the imagination. Let's see, he's supposedly the toughest wrestler in the IIWF.  Yeah, I beg to differ with that.  I don't get damn near enough credit for being tough, and if Kowalski thinks he can play the waiting game, and just out-tough me, he can start coming up with a new strategy right now.  But, I'm not going to rag on the guy.  At Coronation Clash, he wrestled a few great matches.  The uncrowned IIWF World Heavyweight Champion at this point, isn't me.  It's Steve Kowalski.  Requiem and his band of merry freaks can claim to be whatever they think they are, but there isn't a real champion in the entire group.  The real champions are the guys who put their hearts and asses on the line in each and every match, toss well-being aside just for the victory, and do whatever the hell it takes to live up to your word.  If that's indeed what makes a real champion, Kowalski versus Quigley is the world's biggest title match.  I think he's an asshole, I don't like anything about him personally.  But as far as his work in the ring... his kind aren't found every single day.  There are a few men who get into wrestling, and it seems natural.  Showing heart, determination, and grit just comes second nature.  We're both cut out of that cloth, I think.  But hey, you know me, Morton.  [Quigley smiles]  CQ: I'm not real comfortable with sharing a spotlight. [The scene fades, as a Morton voice-over continues on...] LM: Steve "The Fury" Kowalski! [Footage of Kowalski executing the Skullpump on The Sandman through a keg of Molson Ice beer.] LM: "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley! [Footage of Quigley with a chair in his hands, plancha diving onto Otto Verhoeven.] LM: It could be a wrestling match.  It could be a war.  But either way, it's gonna be great, and it's only on IIWF Saturday Night! [Clips roll of Quigley brawling with Joe Petrow, then of Kowalski brawling with Petrow.  Then of Quigley brawling with Marty Warnett, then Kowalski doing the same.  Fade back to the studio.] ======================================================================== ------------------------------TRASH-TALK-------------------------------- ======================================================================== LM: Well, that's the action you can expect to see tomorrow night, folks. Don't miss a moment of the action. Right now, let's get comments from some of the other IIWF superstars, beginning with former Intercontinental Champion, Marty Warnett, who has two dates with destiny looming large on his horizon: a sealed cage match against Simon Lebec on the next edition of IIWF Saturday Night, and the match for which he has been campaigning for months, a battle with "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley: [SCENE: A deserted locker room at the IIWF training facility.  Marty Warnett sits alone, sweating profusely after a gruelling training session.  A few rookies enter, then quickly disappear when they see the camera. Marty towels his face, also wiping the sweat from his chest, his hair dripping wet. Marty sweeps the hair back with his hand before addressing the camera.] MW: You know, these long dark days within the IIWF seem to be defining athletes... those who are New Gen, those who are old relics.  What does that make me, the guy who has wrestled the most single bouts in this federation, who is fast approaching the big five-oh? [Marty shakes his head and pauses.] MW: For somebody in his first year of pro wrestling, I've done pretty good, I've held a title, and I've paid my dues.  Yet, who gets all the attention, the number one ranking for my former title?  Highwayman. A gimmick that isn't... all I see is a man who can't act his character to save his "undead" life.  You rank high in my future, gimmick. Right now, well, let's just say I have more important fish to fry. Who else do I see? Lebec.  Simon, I called the stipulation.  Sealed cage. No interference, nobody to prevent us finishing this once and for all. And then I can concentrate on gaining my title back.     Yet, there still remains one man in this federation.  One man that stands between me and respect, the respect that I've earned in the ring. Chris Quigley. [Marty looks down as the camera focuses into a close up.  Marty raises his head, revealing a now less swollen eye.] MW: I would say this isn't personal, but it is.  All I see, and all I see in people like your friend Tonnage, is verbal boasting about achievements in other federations. Who cares?  This is the _IIWF_ and don't forget it.  If the rules have been torn up lately, so be it.  I'm not Byron, whenever we meet, I won't use foreign objects, I won't solicite interference -- I'll outwrestle you, Chris. Chris, until I beat you... I'll never have achieved my potential.     Never.     And when I do, I'll party my way back to the title.  Till then, I m all business in the ring. [The interview is now interrupted by the ringing of a cellular phone.  Marty reaches into his bag, pulling the device out.] MW: Yeah?  Oh, hi, dude. Yeah?  I can pick you up... no worries. Him too?  He he, that's the spirit. Oh, hang on a minute, I'll call you back after this interview is over. [Marty closes the phone, looking back again at the camera.] MW: Chris, as one door closes, another opens.  Lebec has been an annoyance for as long as I've been in this federation.  Once he's out of the way, I want to finally meet you, one on one, with no other baggage tying us down.     No gimmicks, no cheapshots.     One on one.     The Midsummer Madness PPV.     I pushed Byron to the limit, the man never beat me clean.     I have to beat you, Chris, have to.     Yet, you re too cowardly to face me mano y mano, using your influence with the bookermen to tie me up elsewhere, to bring other wrestlers into this. Quoth the Party Maniac: "Whatever it takes, as long as it involves Mooselips..." [The scene now fades to black as Marty takes out the phone again. Cut back to the studio.] LM: The IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, Requiem, may not be wrestling tomorrow night, but we all know that he will be on hand -- and he will be bringing his sister, the beautiful but deadly Gabrielle, with him. Let's go to comments from the champ: [SCENE: The dimly lit IIWF Coliseum in downtown Portland, late at night. Suddenly an emergency exit slams open, and a cold lifeless wind blasts through the arena, whipping dust into the air and causing intricate swirls to form. A pure white blast of light explodes through the exit as Requiem and Gabrielle walk through. The wind swirls chaotically, causing Requiem's jacket and Gabrielle's gown to flutter madly. Then, when Requiem and his sister enter the ring, the wind dies down as suddenly as it had arrived, the light vanishing as the emergency exit slams shut. All that remains are Requiem and Gabrielle, dimly illuminated by the blazing letters upon Requiem's jacket] RQ: Tomorrow night, Gabrielle. G: What about it? RQ: Tomorrow night in this arena my greatest foes do battle against one     another ... Steve Kowalski, Brody Thunder, Otto Verhoeven... G: Don't forget his moral high n' mightiness, The Phoenix. RQ: Do not worry, little sister, be assured that The Angel Of Destruction has not forgotten The Great Betrayer. When the time comes the Requiem shall play his funeral dirge...     G: That guy makes me sick. After all you and Adam did for him. Shoulda destroyed him when you had the chance, back when you were a... what do they call it? A babyface?     RQ: This "Phoenix" will soon come to rue the day I showed him mercy. But     this is all beside the point. Tomorrow night our enemies fight     amongst themselves, and I will be there to watch.     G: Oh? looking for weak spots, brother? RQ: No, Gabrielle. I am looking for _more_ weakspots. They have already shown the world the one weakspot that Genesis does not possess, but they do: They are not united. That is their greatest weakness, but there are others... G: What about this Juggernaut guy? The one saying he's gonna rip you apart and all that crap? The guy who says you hide behind titles?     RQ: Ah, you mean Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven? The "Teutonic Terror"?     The "German Juggernaut"?     G: Yeah, kinda ironic really. Him chewing you out about titles, I mean. RQ: His words are as nothing to me, Gabrielle. They are meaningless, it is only his actions that are of concern. Otto Verhoeven is a very dangerous man, and I respect that.     G: Yeah, he does seem a tad mean. Vicious, maybe. Cruel, even. Possibly    a tornado of torment?     RQ: Very eloquent, little sister. We all know Otto's reputation. But if     he is expecting to just walk into the ring and simply beat me, he can think again.     G: [sidelong glance at camera] Hey, Otto. You weren't thinkin' that were you? That _would_ be a mistake, trust me. Don't make the same mistake others have made, bub.     RQ: But aside from Otto, there are others who threaten the reign of     Genesis...     G: You're telling me! The whole freakin' IIWF, for starters. RQ: True, but there are those who threaten us more directly than others.     When the time is right they must be dealt with...     G: Cool. When will that time be? [Tight closeup on Requiem, as he turns his face to stare into the camera. His dead white eyes seem to pierce the TV camera and lance into the soul] RQ: Soon, little sister. Very soon... [Fade.] LM: One figure from Requiem's past whom the champion may soon find himself unable to avoid is the Deathbringer, who was shockingly pinned by Joe Petrow last Saturday Night. Several observers have commented that something is beginning to stir in the Deathbringer -- a crack, if you will, in the stone facade which he has constructed, behind which he lurks, deadly, determined and single-minded. But perhaps he is no longer as single-minded as he once was: [SCENE: Deathbringer's graveyard. The camera slowly moves across the cemetary, passing dozens of graves, tombstones and crypts on its way, always following a barely visible path which leads towards a large, stone-built hall. A faint noise is picked up by the camera's microphones, a noise which sounds like a melody played on a violin. As the camera gets closer to the structure it becomes apparent that it is Deathbringer's mortuary. The melody can now clearly be heard. The player seemingly has some problems in playing the right notes and he breaks off sometimes, just to start playing the same melody over and over again. As the camera has almost reached the old wooden door, which leads to the interior of the mortuary, the player once again strikes a false note, but this time he doesn't start to play the melody again. This time the camera's microphones pick up a growl, followed by the smashing sound of breaking wood. It doesn't need much imagination to know that it was the violin that has been destroyed right behind that wooden door. The camera man's hand becomes visible as he reaches for the handle and opens the door. The camera then moves into the mortuary. As always, the stone-built hall is slightly illuminated by several lit torches, which are hanging from the walls. Dozens of caskets are spread across the location, some lined up along the walls, other just standing right in the middle of the mortuary. The camera moves to the left, where Deathbringer stands in front of the wooden table that is located in the rear left corner of the hall. He stands bended over the table, his hands on top of it. Deathbringer is breathing heavily, but despite of that he doesn't move. The camera pans down to his feet. Obviously Deathbringer's standing within the remains of a broken violin, the parts of which have been spread over the floor. The camera moves back up, right in time to see Deathbringer move around, staring coldly at the camera with his piercing red eyes. He begins to speak in his low, growling voice:] DB: Well, I did not notice that you were here... But it is good that you have found your way to my mortuary as I have something to proclaim, something that I proclaimed a long time ago and something that I have to proclaim again right now... [Deathbringer looks down to the floor, shakes his head slowly and takes a few steps forward. He then raises his head again and looks back into the camera] DB: My mortuary is a forgotten realm... Tell me whether you feel the power that lies within this hall, tell me whether you feel the presence of all those lost souls, those souls which tried to cheat Death himself, those souls which cry out every night and beg for mercy... I have hunted these souls for years, I have collected them... and I have enjoyed their pain and agony... But today I feel that I am missing something... And I will show you just what I am missing... [Deathbringer throws a handful of dust in the air. In the dust, as it slowly falls down to the ground, the images of the Genesis members become visible. The last image is Requiem and it is visible longer than the other images. Finally the vision fades and Deathbringer continues to speak:] DB: Did you see these mortals? They trained so hard to gain the gold... They planned their way to the top so thoroughly that they thought of every possibility, of every stone that could be lying in their way... Or did they? As they thought about the stones, they forgot to think about the mountain blocking their path... This mountain is a symbol for the Dark Destroyer who is standing in Genesis' way and who will not leave the path he has chosen... Somewhere down this narrow road I will meet the plaque called Genesis... And at that point, all of you will be able to witness yet another holy war... [Deathbringer walks over to a huge casket, enlabeled "R.W.II" and opens it] DB: This has been my prison for a long time... A far too long time... But it proved itself to be able to keep something for eternity... Genesis, and especially you, Annis and Requiem, look closely at this casket as it will turn out to be _your_ next home after I finished my business with you...     A few days ago a date fell into my mind and I just cannot see to get     it out of my head again... June, 25th 1876... The last fight at Little Big Horn... This fight will repeat itself... And as it does so, Genesis will represent Custer's soldiers as I myself will represent the Indians... Who do you think did decide upon the outcome of this battle back in those days? The hand of Fate? [Deathbringer raises his left hand and looks at it] DB: Perhaps... [Deathbringer lowers his left hand and raises his right] DB: But it certainly was the claw of Death which finally solved the     matter. [Deathbringer lowers his right hand again] DB: The piper is calling again... I can remember the last time he played     his tunes of war... And I suppose most of you do as well... That     time we may have not been able to defeat the evil breed, but we were     able to block it's path for the fraction of a second, and we were     able to let it fall down to it's knees... The breed is rising again     now... And in my eyes it is time to stomp it down again... To stomp     it down, deep into the ground... Preferably six under... [Deathbringer's voice got louder and louder during the last sentences, he now lowers his head, takes a few deep breaths and continues to speak in his usual, more silent way:] DB: Now this takes me back to my casket... to _your_ casket, Genesis...     Requiem, Annis, Highwayman, and whoever else might be a part of your     group of mortal fools, you are up to a challenge you cannot survive... Last Saturday I had the opportunity to take a good long look at your heart, Requiem... It is cold, cold as ice... Your black heart will only find beauty in darkness, in _eternal_ darkness, and that is just where you will end up after I am finished with you... Requiem, why do your lead your stablemates right into that trap, that trap which has been set up by Death himself, that trap, which no one can disarm... [Deathbringer again throws a handful of dust into the air. This time an image of vast plains appears for merely a second and vanishes again] DB: See the plains lie ghastly silent as if being frozen in time... A     place of distress where evil still lies vigilant enshrined... Many     months ago I showed this place to another group of mortals... But     they did not understand it's meaning, and they went down, down, right to the very gates of Hades... Remember this place... and listen to the choirs of the fallen ones... Dark were the thorns of crimson death and today they are darker than ever... Requiem... I look into your eyes and see rage and hate within them... But I also can see the images of you as a child... Whenever I look at you, I see this difference between your eyes and your body... And I wonder what made you to what you are today... Whatever it was, you have to accept what happened and you have to understand that your way is the wrong one... But just continue to guide Genesis through that dark forest of mine... Just keep on marching, Requiem, as you are only marching to die... Then, as your lifeclock strikes, you will obey like a candlelight that fades... And you will hear my voice, calling out your name, leading you to the dark side and finally taking you home... [Deathbringer closes the casket slowly.] DB: Yes, the signs of war cannot be overseen anymore... Soon, very soon,     it will break out and leave death and destruction all around... It     did so once... and it will do so again... Only this time I will not     allow you to fight all the battles on a single night... This time     I will take you out one by one... I will pick a random name from my     list and I will destroy each and everyone of you... it will be a     slow, painful and first of all _ETERNAL_ destruction...     Annis, you are the first on my list... We met before and though I     reached out my hand to you, you spitted on it and betrayed me in front of the capacity crowd... And that was a grave mistake... Annis, I am the King of Destruction, the Master of Chaos... And you, mortal, want to defeat me? But I asked you that question before... And to be quite honest, I do not even care about your answer... Annis, this one has become personal... And in case I did not make that clear to you, then I want to make it clear to you right now...     Some time ago I turned my back on all the fans here in the IIWF...     I thought that there was no sense in doing battle for mortals...     I had realized that the time to destroy the evil roots had not come     at that point... Then, just a few weeks back, I realized that I had     to stop Genesis in its way to destroy this league... So I     searched for allies... But all I found was a betrayer... Annis,     you jumped me from behind at a time when I needed a partner more     than at any other time in my existence... However, this time I     did not feel left alone by the fans, but just by my own judgement...     And I felt a beast growing within me... A beast, and I have to     admit that, which grew bigger and meaner than even I had expected     it to grow... This unleashed creature is out for blood, your blood,     Annis... And believe me when I say that I am more than willing to     fulfill its will... [Pause, as Deathbringer takes a few steps through the mortuary] DB: Soldiers of Hell... I wonder whether you are still out there... I wonder whether you still stand by my side as I take on this gigantic task, the task of destroying Genesis... I will use all means necessary to do so... And although I said it once and let you all down back at the beginning of this year, let me say it again: Whatever happens... I OBEY YOU, Soldiers of Hell, for it is your will I am here to fulfill... And it is you, whom I will present all those souls I gather on my way here in the IIWF...     So, if there is any respect for me at all left within you... Show it to me... Give me your power... Make me strong again... And let us regain what is rightfully ours... the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship title... [Deathbringer makes another short pause. Fast as lightning he raises his right hand and all of a sudden he holds a black book in it. He opens the book, looks into it and then back into the camera] DB: A new chapter is about to be written here in the IIWF... And it     shall be entitled "THE RETURN OF THE WARLORD"... [Deathbringer turns around and heads towards the table, where he takes the enlighten torch out of the skull. At the same moment, all the other torches, which are hanging from the walls, stop burning. Deathbringer looks directly into the flame of the torch he is holding in his right hand as he continues to speak] DB: The last candle left burns now, before the darkness comes... It will once again engulf the IIWF... but this time it will protect this league... and as long as you mortals do not join forces with the breed called Genesis, you do not have to be afraid... otherwise... PREPARE TO MEET YOUR MAKER! [Deathbringer extinguishes the flame with his left hand, thus the whole scene turns black, except for the piercing red eyes of the 'Bringer. Fade.] LM: Fellow IIWF veteran Tony Starks has also struck out on a new path recently, aligning himself with the powerful Age of Rage since his disappointing exit from the Coronation Clash tournament. Driven solely by his desire to gain the respect of his adversaries, and to wear gold here in the IIWF, Starks may have finally found the allies he will need to succeed in this dog-eat-dog environment: [SCENE: Near midnight, a Staten Island playground, the lights illuminate the basketball court dimly, some men are playing, some beats can be heard in the background, and standing at the fence around the court is Tony Starks, he is looking through the cage. The camera focuses in on his face, which can hardly be seen through the towel draped over his head. He begins to speak:] TS: I told you boys. I told you, Ike. I seen the science on what Watkins had planned for the longest. But, hell, better you than me sucka. Mad Dog is right, ya'll just some young bucks, that is the price you pay for not being experienced. You don't make a deal wit' the devil and expect the playing field to be level. That is Staten Island Survival 101: you don't run wit' no cut throats if you wet behind the ears... but you gotta learn sometime.     Hell, I'm still waitin' for someone to step up and pose a challenge but I guess all you superstar [bleep] are too busy to fool around wit' someone like me. I know that is what all you cats think, that is your death warrant. You think, I got betta' things to do than mess around wit' that sucka. Go ahead and that, go ahead.     All you big time superstars, all ya'll that I have been here longer than, you say how tough you is, you a rugged cowboy, you some heavy metal head, and the list goes on and on... Ya'll cats ain't jack...you wanna know a hard life? How 'bout cockroaches in the ceralbox, seein' your people die around you all the time, broke backs, and bein' the _only_ chance to help out your fam. That is a tough life, that is Staten, that is what happened to me. The Age, see, they know it, my boy Rugged Raheem knows it... but none of ya'll ivory tower cats know that, the cats that come from the streets, we just someone you hope you don't run into in the streets, I seen ya'll lookin' all shook if it's just me and you in the elevator. Damn ya'll, and that is somethin' I am gonna do, damn all ya'll, take ya'll to Hell, you are gonna know my pain... you are gonna know it.     I keep strivin' for that gold, that is somethin' to me. I know all 'bout hard work, that is only way to overcome. If won't none of ya'll come to me, then I will go through each of ya'll, do whatever it takes... when I am done, you gonna know.     This is to the whole double I: you better get yourself right wit' God cause when you face me, they ain't gonna be no time for redemption. [Starks stares at the camera, turns around and walks off into the night, just as he walks away, it begins to rain. Cut back to the studio.] LM: A very moody Tony Starks. Let's change track a little. Earlier this week, I was invited to interview Scott Rogers at his Utah home, and was expecting to be greeted with a display of arrogance and macho posturing from the "baddest" member of Genesis. However, I still managed to get more than I had bargained for: [SCENE: Scott Rogers is in an indoor swimming pool, alone. He's performing the butterfly stroke and is gliding through the water at considerable speed. He makes a turn and comes back towards the cameraman, along with whom is Larry Morton. Rogers spots them, gets out of the pool and starts to dry himself off with a towel he'd left on the side. Larry walks over to him.] LM: Scott, thanks for agreeing to this interview here. How come it's so quiet? SR: 'Cause I own the damn thing, Morton. This pool is used by me, and me only. [Rogers pauses and grins] But I do make a few exceptions. [He pauses again] But you're not gettin' in so don't even think about it. LM: I wouldn't want to actually, Scott. I can't even swim! SR: That figures.... LM: Hmm. Well, Scott, you've got the night off this Saturday, I believe. SR: Yeah, that figures too. You believe wrong, Morton. I'm not wrestlin', no, but I'll be around. I know ya won't get where I'm comin' from here, Morton, but I'll say it anyway. LM: Shoot. [Rogers glares at Morton.] SR: Listen, Morton, you _don't_ tell me when to speak or not speak. If I wanna say somethin', I'll damn well say it. Ya see, when ya got friends -- that's people you like and they like you back, but as I said I don't expect ya to understand that. Well, Morton, the rest of Genesis are friends o' mine, right? And last week when _Mota_ had the misfortune o' wrestlin' me, they were there. Givin' moral support like. Like them, I don't got no plans to interfere in any matches but if someone needs a good hammerin' after _we_ win, then I'll sure as hell help out. LM: Yes, Scott. I don't want to dwell on this as I know you had a similar conversation with Steve Summer last week, but it seems that what we -- and by that I mean the non-wrestling viewing public -- see, and the way you tell the story, don't exactly add up. Last week on Saturday Night, I know for a fact that I sw the Highwayman, for example, deliver the Daylight Robbery to Derek Mota during your match. Could you maybe explain that to the rest of us? SR: [to the cameraman, grinning] This guy thinks he's smart, huh? [To Morton] Listen, Morton, I ain't explainin' _my_ actions or anyone else's actions to you, or anyone else. All I gotta say is, just like Summer was, you're wrong. Christ Almighty. LM: I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree there then Scott. SR: No, Morton. You agree with me. If ya don't, I may make an exception for _you_ and let ya test out the water. LM: Ah. Well. Erm..... SR: Even if ya don't agree, Morton, just say it. LM: I'm sorry, Scott, but President Dan has told us not to be bullied by the wrestlers. And you're not allowed to so much as touch me either. SR: [irritatedly] Shut up, Morton. You think I give squat for what Spreadbury says? He's a joke. [Rogers starts walking forwards, forcing Morton back -- towards the pool.] SR: I thought Summer was bad but you... you really take the _dog_ biscuit. [Rogers laughs. He then feigns a lariat at Morton, causing him to dodge it as a natural reaction. He falls backwards into the swimming pool. Rogers laughs, tosses his towel to the floor and jumps in. He again starts doing lengths of the pool, doing the backstroke, while Morton gasps for air. Cries of "Help.....Help...." can be heard as the screen fades. Cut back to a flustered-looking Morton in the studio.] LM: Of course, I can swim really. Just kidding with him. Licensed For Devastation also went in search of a little light entertainment this past week, visiting the huge rollercoaster in Dorney Park. Let's go to their comments: [The scene opens to Dorney Park, in Allentown, Pennsylvania.  What seems like thousands of people are walking around the park... but nearly half of them have convened to the biggest, fastest, and longest roller coaster on the Eastern shore, Steel Force.  The camera pans to the middle of the line, and there stand Licensed for Devastation, Reggie Starr and Jonathan Chaos, in summer attire.] JC: Ya know somethin', Reg?  We finally won... and it feels so good. RS: Yeah, Jon... I mean, we came into the IIWF thinkin' that it'd be a cakewalk, but it ain't. JC: It would be, but every schmoe this side of Harlem interferes and gets us a loss... I guess that that means we got these guys on their toes? RS: I guess so, Jon.  None of these corrupt little fudgepackers can compete with us two on two, but when the Nightriders, Machines, and the Harlequins are all interfering in your matches, it's tough to win. [An employee walks by.] RS: Excuse me, miss... how long's the wait from here? LADY: 'Bout another hour and a half. [The lady walks away, and Reggie and Jonathan look at each other in disgust.] JC: Let's talk about those dip[BLEEP]s the Prophets of Rage... you two said that the score wasn't settled between the four of us... RS: Damn straight it isn't, Cochise.  We just added some much needed fuel to your fire... get pissed... we like it like that. JC: We'll be ready... will you?  See ya'll in the ring, sucka'. RS: Now, Jon? JC: Yep. [Reggie and Jonathan begin hopping railings, trying to move up in the line, when two rather scary security guards approach the two men.] SG#1: I'm afraid that we're going to have to throw you out of the park. RS: What the [BLEEP]?!  We're famous, you [BLEEP]!!!  I'm gonna [10 second censor]. JC: Calm down, Reg.  Ya gotta handle these situations properly. [Jonathan takes a swing at one of the security guards, who promptly handcuffs him and Reggie... the two security guards lead LFD out of the line, and, ultimately, out of the amusement park.] RS: What the hell is this?!  I want my god damned money back you wetbacks!  Ya damn sure didn't handle this properly, Jon! JC: Shut the hell up, Reg, this is all your [BLEEP]ing fault! RS: Nah, it's _Spreadbury's_ fault! JS: Hell yeah, if he didn't... [The two men's voices trail off and the camera fades to black.] LM: Well, folks, we're just about out of time here tonight. But before I go, some quick comments from one "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare, who will apparently be making an appearance tomorrow night, live from the IIWF Coliseum. Last week, he challenged any three IIWF superstars to meet him, one-on-one and one after the other -- but has been greeted with deafening silence. So the former Intercontinental and Cruiserweight Champion is looking to take matters into his own hands: [Billy Shakespeare leans against an odd shaped wire basket, he thumbs through a play script, an obvious look of concern on his face.] BS: We've got the plot, we've got the star... where are the co-stars? Opponents... opponents... my kingdom for opponents.  The crowd waits, but the dressing rooms are empty.  Alright IIWF, you asked for it.  No one answered my challenge, I've secured the right to pick my competition. [He turns to the wire basket, now obviously revealed as a hopper.]     Inside this basket is the name of every singles wrestler in the IIWF. From Damage to Mota to Verhoeven.  It takes three victories in a single night to win the title, I will have three to win the crowd. And as an added bonus, to you, the fans, who this show is     ultimately for, I will use a new and different finisher to defeat each opponent.  The finisher which achieves the most acclaim will be     christened the "Final Act".     Mystery wrestlers whose fates soon will be announced, I leave you all with this line from As You Like It: "I do desire that we become better strangers." [He reaches into the hopper and pulls out a name.  The camera dollies in to reveal the chit reading "BILLY SHAKESPEARE." Cut back to the studio.] LM: That just about wraps it up for tonight's show. Don't miss a second of the action coming your way tomorrow night, live from the IIWF Coliseum, and barring a worsening of the situation up in the front office, I'll be back, along with my co-host Brian Lau, next Friday for another "Countdown to Saturday Night." Until then, I leave you with a special music video tribute to the self-proclaimed "franchise" of the IIWF, "Sychosys" Joe Petrow. So long, everybody! [Cut to music video of Petrow highlights, set to "Jump" by Van Halen] (intro)                            |A series of ring entrances by                                    |"Sychosys" Joe Petrow, from his                                    |early slow, eerie stalks to the                                    |ring, to intense fan sessions with                                    |the Sychopaths, to his "Crow" like                                    |appearances from the stands, to his                                    |latest, crowd pleasing style                                    | I get up, and nothing gets me down |Sychosys has Bobby B Goode in an                                    |armbar, then runs to the top                                    |turnbuckle, and somersaults to the                                    |floor, holding Goode's arm.                                    | You got it tough                   |Shots of Steve Kowalski, waffling I've seen the toughest around      |a bloody Petrow with a human skull                                    | And I know,                        |Petrow hits a running plancha dive baby, just how you feel            |on an unsuspecting Medusa Rage                                    | You've got to roll with the punches|Petrow drops from a shot from Dan to get to what's real              |Kauffman, then immediately gets up                                    |and back in his face                                    | Oh can't you see me standing here  |Joe Petrow, striking a def pose by I've got my back against           |an oak tree, during Team Sychosys' the record machine                 |takeover of Quail Grove, Oregon.                                    | I ain't the worst that you've seen |Majestic Maurice McArthur, making                                    |the same pose, holding up a botched                                    |"Triple M Hand Sign"                                    | Oh can't you see what I mean ?     |Petrow throws powder in the eyes of                                    |Chris Quigley                                    | Might as well jump. Jump !         |Petrow's failed Asai Moonsault Might as well jump                 |attempt on Steve Kowalski                                    | Go ahead, jump. Jump !             |Petrow dives from the top rope onto Go ahead, jump                     |both members of the Prophets of                                    |Rage in tag action in Mexico                                    | Aaa-ohh Hey you ! Who said that ?  |Randy Acorn looks around for the Baby how you been ?                |mysterious voice that interrupts                                    |his match with the Masked Maurader                                    | You say you don't know             |Petrow runs into the ring and you won't know, until we begin     |Sychokicks World Champ Casey James                                    | Well can't you see me standing here|Petrow holds his hands on his knees I've got my back against           |and breathes deeply on the steps of the record machine                 |City Hall, awaiting his fans after                                    |his memorable run through downtown                                    |Portland                                    | I ain't the worst that you've seen |Petrow and the Sychopaths dump Oh can't you see what I mean ?     |drinks on Chris Quigley                                    | Might as well jump. Jump !         |Petrow does a cross body dive on Might as well jump                 |the Harlequin standing on the top                                    |rope, sending both men crashing                                    |into the stands                                    | Go ahead, jump. Jump !             |Petrow lets Simon Lebec move out Go ahead, jump                     |of the way, then hits a version of                                    |the Starsault Press on Billy                                    |Shakespeare                                    | (guitar solo)                      |Flashbacks of highpoints in                                    |Petrow's IIWF career:  Petrow and                                    |Unique Allah whipping each other                                    |with the dog collar strap, Petrow                                    |hitting the Sychosynthesys on                                    |G.W.R. member Spoiler, Petrow                                    |applying the figure-five leglock (keyboard solo)                    |to Dan Kauffman, a fan taking a                                    |missle dropkick from Allah at                                    |Ring Wars 3, Petrow and Quigley                                    |falling together at the end of                                    |the Gauntlet Battle Royal, the                                    |top rope Asspump on Derek Mota,                                    |and finally, Petrow putting Steve                                    |Kowalski through the Bulldog                                    |Brown table, and covering for the                                    |three count.  The solo ends with                                    |an emotional Petrow cradling the                                    |the IIWF Cruiserweight title, and                                    |the camera fades out...                                    | Might as well jump. Jump !         |...and comes right back to Might as well jump                 |Petrow's plancha on Deathbringer                                    | Go ahead, jump. Jump !             |Petrow's triple jump, double Go ahead, jump                     |table smashing combination onto                                    |Unique Allah at Ring Wars 3                                    | (ending)                           |Petrow poses in the ring after                                    |his victory over Deathbringer.                                    |The final scene shows Sychosys                                    |being carried away by his fans                                    |after Coronation Clash. [The music and the picture both fade out.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Jim Jividen | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | brokeback@webtv.net | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+