[The opening graphics explode onto the screen, the IIWF logo being emblazoned with fifty fiery candles:] ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/...hour two...\........|...|.......|....| G O L D E N A N N I V E R S A R Y S P E C I A L --------------------------------------------------------------------- LIVE! IIWF Coliseum, Portland, Oregon August 16 1997 [Fade back up onto an interior shot of the IIWF Coliseum. Another volley of fireworks erupts in the rafters, rockets shooting down the aisle to the entranceway either side of the huge video wall, where more huge pyros explode with deafening bangs, sending clouds of smoke billowing up into the rafters. The shot swings down past row upon row of fans, all waving and shouting at the cameras. Cut to the ring area as the lights rise and the smoke clears. Tim Dross climbs into the ring, with microphone in hand.] TD: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome at this time, a man who is on the hottest winning streak in the IIWF at this time... "QUICKSTRIKE" CHRIS QUIGLEY! [The crowd pops huge as "For Those About to Rock" echoes its familar chords throughout the arena.  Quigley emerges from behind the curtain in a pair of jean shorts and his black "Quickstrike Island -- Trespassers Will Be Executed!" t-shirt, his eyes hidden behind his wire-rimmed shades.  Quigley slaps a few hands on his way down the aisle, then enters the ring as he usually does, rolling under the bottom rope, as his symbol appears on the video wall.]                                   ______                                  / _  _ \                                 / / \/ \ \                                 | \_/\_/ |                                 \   /\   /                                  |______|                                  ||||||||                       ________   |______|   ________                      /_____  /______  ______\  _____\                           /______  /__\  ______\                             ____/  ____  \_____                            /_______\  /_______/ [The music dies down, as do the fans, as Tim Dross starts to speak...] TD: Wow!  What an ovation!  [crowd pops again]  Chris, as my colleagues and I have said, it seems as though you are experiencing a resurgence as of late, like you are finally focused mentally and physically, and are living up to the fans' expectations, but more importantly, your _own_ expectations. To what do you attribute your recent success? CQ: My "recent" success.  Despite the ups and the downs I've had in the IIWF, there is no denying I've been a consistent winner.  I've never, ever lost a match in the IIWF without some sort of outside interference or some type of cheating, and I guess the big thing lately has been that no one has taken it upon themselves to cost me a match.  Kowalski had problems last week with Brody Thunder, and I've been in his place before, and he's gotta be fuming inside, and like I said, whenever he's finished with Thunder, and he wants another shot at me... he's got it.  I guess all I can say, is that so far, the summer has been good to me, and I plan on keeping it up, into the next pay per-view, that's for damn sure. [Big pop from the crowd, and Quigley nods to the fans.] TD: Well, speaking of the next PPV, that being IIWF's Midsummer Madness, Marty Warnett has been quite vocal in his challenging of you for this event. Incidentally, Marty is involved in a cage match against Simon Lebec, following this interview. CQ: [smirks] So Warnett and Lebec are just waiting for me to finish before they can wrestle?  I guess I'll stay on a little longer then.  To address Marty Warnett's so-called challenge, I've just got to ask myself, what the _hell_ is in it for me?  I don't understand it, I don't comprehend it, I can't begin to _grasp_ why Marty Warnett wants to face me again.  He's determined to show me that he's a great wrestler?  Hey, Warnett _could_ be a great wrestler, but he is _not_ and never will be as good as I am!  [mixed pop]  I've made you look bad every time we've faced, Warnett.  I'd rather be wrestling for a title at Midsummer Madness.  Or if not a title, I'd rather wrestle Deathbringer or Joe Petrow!  But, then I think again.  I just realize that, if I wrestle Marty Warnett, and I _beat_ Marty Warnett in the middle of the ring at the Midsummer Madness PPV, it's over!  I'll never have to put up with that punk and his annoying little interviews, insults, and just his over-all ability to bug the hell out of me!  So, not being one to back down from a challenge, especially when a win could mean all these positive results, I _accept_ Marty Warnett's challenge for Midsummer Madness!  I don't care what kind of match you want, "Party Maniac".  This is a match _you_ wanted, so you decide whatever the hell you want it to be.  A normal match?  Fine.  A cage?  Even better.  How about to stick us on a scaffold with two dozen beer, and the first one to lose their balance loses the match?  That sounds like your type of event, although, with all due respect, nobody in the world can out-drink a Canadian. TD: [clears his throat]  On another note, what's your view on this monster Tonnage, who you've labeled as the "walking condominium".  You've had wars in the past, and it seems as though he wants another one.  He claims he crushed you in your first match.  Comments? [Quigley removes his shades and hangs them off his collar.] CQ: Yeah, Tonnage is big, he's bad, he's powerful, but the man is half a _ton_.  What kind of athlete is that?  I take him in a match longer than five minutes, and he'll be on the ground gasping for breath.  The fact is, in our first match, I was young, and I was stupid.  I was a lot like Marty Warnett. [Quigley smirks and the crowd gives another pop]  I tried to take the fight to a man that size, and I was crunched pretty quick and pretty bad.  But you live and you learn, big man, and the second match, I took you down.  I picked your legs apart like two big leftover drumsticks, and made you _give up_ in the middle of the ring!  How many times has anyone ever beaten you that bad, Tonnage?  Not very often!  And I did it once, I'll do it again. I'm an athlete.  You aren't.  I'm a wrestler.  You aren't.  What you are is a gigantic, talentless blob standing there in the ring trying to swat your opponents down.  What happens when you can't swat them down?  You lose.  End of match, end of story.  [Pop!] TD: But wait, you just mentioned that, the first time you faced Tonnage, you were young and naive, and then you compared yourself to Marty Warnett.  But then you said that you learned from that, and you wrestled a better match the next time, and you _beat_ him.  Don't you think Marty Warnett is capable of learning from his mistakes in the previous matches, and defeating you at Midsummer Madness? [Quigley shakes his head.] CQ: No, I don't think he's capable of that.  Back then, I was a dedicated kid.  Full of heart, desire, and the absolute _longing_ to become great.  I did whatever I had to do.  I studied books, tapes, I went to wrestling schools, I worked out, I did it all, Dross.  Marty Warnett is a self-professed degenerate who drinks enough to drown and parties all night long.  Does that sound to you like someone who has the discipline to be great?  It sure as hell doesn't to me.  And besides, if by some freak chance Warnett has learned anything from our other matches, it was a lot easier to use something like that against Tonnage, a man who has a limited offense. Fact is, neither you, Warnett, or anyone else knows what strategy I'm going to employ before a match.  I have an arsenal of moves bigger than Steve Roberts' crush on Steve Kowalski.  [crowd pop!]  Marty Warnett, you might have been too thick-headed to learn anything valuble from our previous matches, but you _will_ learn something from this match, and that is, you do _not_ make me mad!  You do not get in my face!  And you do not, even for one second, assume you're a better wrestler than me, because everyone knows the truth about you, and everyone knows the truth about me, and it'll be so obvious who the better man is after Midsummer Madness, that it'll HURT! [The crowd pops like mad as "For Those About to Rock" fires up once more, and Quigley flashes the "I Love You" sign to the fans, before rolling under the ropes, out of the ring, and slaps hands as he walks down the aisle, and disappears behind the curtain.] TD: It looks like we'll be seeing Quigley and Warnett, one more time, at Midsummer Madness!  What a match that's gonna be! [Dross exits the ring and goes back to the broadcast table, as a ring crew quickly descends on the ringside area, erecting the walls of a fifteen foot high steel cage. Cut to the broadcast table as Dross makes himself comfortable once more and adjusts his headset. Steve Roberts is looking at his monitor, tapping his pen on the table irritably.] TD: I'm surprised you're not launching into an attack of vitriol directed at Chris Quigley right about now, Steve. SR: [pauses] I'm too angry to speak, Dross. As far as I'm concerned, Chrissie Quigley and Martina Warnett deserve one another. TD: Perhaps so, Steve. Welcome back, folks, to the second hour of this tremendous golden anniversary Saturday Night broadcast. As you can see, the ring crew are currently working on erecting the sealed steel cage which will, in just a few moments, contain Marty Warnett and Simon Lebec. But before that, let's take another look back at a memorable moment from a past edition of IIWF Saturday Night. Do you want to introduce this one, Steve? SR: The most devious man in IIWF history. Two bunches of losers. A triple-cross in a six-man tag. What more is there to say? [Cut to footage captioned, "IIWF Saturday Night: 6 July 1996." Sparkplug Lee steps into the ring.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's main event is a special six-man tag attraction scheduled for one fall. [Pop] Introducing first, led to the ring by Miss Victoria Secret, here are the Horsemen: Flare, Brad "Bodybag" Kinder and Blackjack Haley. [Big heel pop as the ravishing Miss Secret, wearing another slinky low-cut dress, walks arm in arm with Flare down the aisle, with Kinder and the giant following closely behind. As Flare passes his customary pocket of fans at ringside, he runs his fingers through his hair and shouts a "whooo" at them. They reply in kind, and Flare laughs before climbing the ring steps with his teammates. They enter the ring, and Miss Secret disrobes Flare. The three Horsemen huddle as the ring announcer introduces their opponents.] RA: And their opponents, introducing first, coming down the aisle at a combined weight of 547lbs, here are the American Heroes: Casey "Whitebread" James and the Man Of Steel! [Big pop as Casey and MOS come down the aisle, hi-fiving the fans as they come.] TD: Hang on, where's the Outlaw? SR: I guess he's too chicken to go up against the Horsemen - he knows he's going to get his butt kicked. [Casey and MOS enter the ring, and Casey goes to shake hands with the ring announcer, and asks whether he can take the microphone. The announcer allows Casey to speak:] CJ: Thankyou, fans! It's great to know that the true spirit of the American dream runs through every one of you! Your support means everything to myself and the Man Of Steel, and now I've got to ask you a big favour, every one of you. I want you to give a good reception to our partner tonight. We know he's been bad in the past, but we honestly believe in giving people a second chance, and now that he's no longer associated with these unsavoury Horsemen [Haley moves towards James, but is held back by Flare, who nods and smiles at his teammates.] he's turned over a new leaf, and he's ready to live the American way himself! [Pop] Allow me to introduce to you our partner: the Outlaw! [There is a moderate face pop as the Outlaw appears at the head of the aisle, and walks down to the ring. Many fans still boo him, however. The former champion enters the ring, and shakes hands with Casey and MOS, asking them whether he can begin the match. Casey and Steel consent, and the Outlaw turns towards the Horsemen, his arms open wide, as if to ask which one wants a piece of him first. Flare looks at his teammates and signals that he'll start the match. Haley and Kinder step out of the ring, and the referee signals for the bell to start the match. Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: Okay, we're underway! Let's see how that inside knowledge the Outlaw has on the Horsemen will help him. [The Outlaw locks up with Flare, and pushes him into the ropes. Flare ducks a clothesline, but is caught on the rebound by a boot to the face. Flare goes down hard. Pop. The Outlaw leaps on Flare and pounds on him with hard punches. Flare eventually breaks free and gets to his feet, tagging in Haley. The Outlaw again stands in the centre of the ring and invites Haley to come on down. Blackjack charges, and the Outlaw steps out of the way, taking the giant down to the mat with a drop toe hold. Pop. Haley storms to his feet, clearly incensed, and charges at the Outlaw again, who takes Haley down to the mat with an armdrag. Pop. Haley again gets to his feet and attempts a clothesline, which the Outlaw ducks. Haley turns, and his head is almost taken off by a Western lariat from the former champion. Pop. The Outlaw runs over to the Horsemen's corner and peppers both Flare and Kinder with punches before returning to Haley, who is struggling to his feet. The Outlaw nails Haley in the midsection with a boot, and applies his Cattle Buster DDT on the big man! Huge pop! The Outlaw tags in Casey James, who drops an elbow on Haley, before going for the cover - 1 - 2 - Kick out!] TD: A lucky escape for the big guy there! Wow, wasn't the Outlaw having fun in there? Look at him grinning on the apron. SR: He can grin all he likes now. Yeah, Outlaw, how funny you are! But you'll be grinning on the other side of that festering face of yours by the time the Horsemen are finished with you. [Casey stands and pulls Haley to his feet. He whips him into the ropes and hits a big powerslam as Haley comes back on the rebound. Big pop. Casey climbs the buckles in a neutral corner, and waits for Haley to get to his feet. He attempts his "Swift Justice" double axe-handle, but Haley nails him in the midsection as he leaps. Big heel pop as Haley lunges into his corner and tags Bodybag. Kinder comes into the ring and immediately places Casey's head between his legs. He looks out into the crowd, who jeer him, and executes a high-impact gutwrench powerbomb. Big heel pop as Kinder goes for the count - 1 - 2 - Kick out by Casey! Big pop!] TD: Wow! I thought Casey was a goner after that move... but the spirit of the American dream, that honest, mom's apple pie attitude is going to carry him through! SR: Oh no! Cornbread-itis is catching. Dross, you need to see somebody about that. I know a good shrink... and a good wig-maker too, actually, come to think of it. TD: Will you _please_ leave my hair out of this?! [Man Of Steel begins to stamp on the apron, and starts up a chant of "U - S - A! U - S - A! U - S - A!" Casey begins to stir, and fights to his feet, breaking the headlock that Kinder had applied on him. Casey bounces off the ropes, but is again stopped short by a high-impact spinebuster from Kinder. Big heel pop.] TD: That's got to have done it! Kinder with the cover - 1 - 2 - 3! He got him! No... No! It was only a two-count! Boy, that was close! SR: Dross, would you mind leaving the counting to the referee?! You keep raising my hopes that Cornbread is going to lose this match. Although it's all just a matter of time... [The "U - S - A!" chant continues as Casey again fights to his feet. Kinder tries to whip him into the ropes, but Casey reverses the whip, and both men go into the ropes. They collide in the centre of the ring with an attempted double clothesline. Both men go down. The referee begins the count - 1 - 2 - ] TD: Both men need to make the tag as quickly as possible. If one fresh man makes it into the ring, the other guy's a goner... [ - 3 - Kinder starts to stir, and moves towards his corner on his knees - Casey also starts to move, but rolls towards the wrong corner - the crowd pop hugely as Casey leans up against the wrong set of turnbuckles and looks for a hand to tag in - Kinder tags in Flare, who charges towards Casey - Casey realises where he is and lunges into his own corner, reaching the hand of the Man Of Steel, who immediately steps into the ring to a huge pop. Flare falls to his knees and begs for mercy from Steel, who looks out to the crowd with one fist raised. Huge pop as MOS begins pounding Flare, and the crowd chants along "1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10!" MOS lets Flare go, and Flare gets to his feet, walks a few steps, and then falls flat on his face. Steel drags Flare to his feet and forces him into the corner with a series of European uppercuts. Flare suddenly reverses positions, and slams Steel into the corner. He "whooo"s for the crowd, before laying into Steel with reverse knife-edge chops. Each makes a huge "crack" which can be heard all over the arena.] TD: Yow! You can almost feel the impact of those chops from here! [Flare whips Steel towards the opposite corner, and "whoo"s again before following him in. The momentary delay is too long, and Steel has recovered sufficiently to hit Flare in the face with a boot as he charges in. Flare reels, and MOS jumps to the second turnbuckle, leaping and executing a nice bulldog as he goes. MOS goes for the cover - 1 - 2 - Haley charges the ring and stomps on Steel. Casey immediately enters the ring, and Haley clotheslines him over the top rope. James hits his head on the ring apron as he sails out of the ring, and slumps on the arena floor.] TD: Oh no! That looked bad for Casey... is he moving? SR: Doesn't look like it, Dross. This is great! Now it's three on two! Squeal and the Outlaw don't stand a chance. [The referee clears Haley from the ring as Steel and Flare struggle to their feet. A slugfest ensues, and Flare whips Steel into the ropes. Steel ducks under a clothesline, and as he comes back on another rebound, Flare puts his head down for a backdrop. Steel sees the move coming, and stands above Flare. He underhooks both of Flare's arms and applies a Tiger Bomb on the Horseman! Big pop! Steel slumps to the mat again, but is up quicker than Flare, and heads towards the Outlaw to make the tag. The Outlaw looks at Steel, hesitant to make the tag... and then clotheslines him from the outside. Huge heel pop!] TD: Wha... what did the Outlaw just do?! [The Outlaw steps between the ropes and begins stomping on the Man Of Steel. The crowd are practically out of their seats, jeering as loud as they can. The referee doesn't know what to do as Haley and Bodybag also enter the ring, and join with the Outlaw in beating on Steel.] SR: Yes! This is great! The whole thing was a setup! The Horsemen duped Cornbread and Squeal into a trap! What a classic! Yes! Whooo! TD: This is a despicable display! I honestly thought the Outlaw had turned over a new leaf! SR: Hell, he even had me fooled, Dross - but this is fantastic! You can bet it was Flare who came up with this little ruse - he really is the dirtiest player in the game! Whoo! [The referee signals for the bell to be rung. The referee announces the referee's decision, but is hardly heard:] RA: The referee has ruled that this match is a no-contest! [Casey finally stirs on the outside, and sees the carnage inside the ring. He is hardly able to believe what he sees, as all four Horsemen brutally assault Steel, but dives under the bottom rope and starts slugging it out with Kinder and Haley. However, the odds are too much for him, and he too succumbs to the might of the Horsemen. The crowd "boo"s are deafening. Eventually, Casey and Steel are kicked out of the ring under the bottom rope, and the four Horsemen embrace in the ring before standing in a line and raising their arms in triumph. Huge heel pop.] TD: I can't believe the back-stabbing, low-life attack we've just witnessed! SR: What I can't believe is how great the Horsemen are! Hang on - who's that? [Suddenly, a number of figures storm down the aisle. As they hit the ring, it becomes clear that Pale Rider, the Crippler, the Venusian Death Cell and Altair are attacking the Horsemen.] TD: It's Josey Wales' Posse! SR: Why would they attack the Horsemen?! And why aren't they going after the Outlaw? [The Venusian Death Cell looks at the Outlaw as he whips Flare into the ropes, and the VDC and the Outlaw link arms and execute a vicious double clothesline on Flare. The crowd are clamouring louder than ever.] TD: What?! The Outlaw - he just clotheslined Flare! What's going on here?! SR: No! Surely he... no, he couldn't have done! [The Outlaw joins with the Posse in stomping on the Horsemen. Gradually they eject all three from the ring - Altair and Pale clothesline Haley out over the top rope, the Venusian Death Cell presses Kinder above his head and dumps him out over the top rope all the way to the arena floor, and the Outlaw executes his Cattle Buster DDT on Flare before kicking him out under the bottom rope. Altair, the VDC, the Crippler, Pale and the Outlaw all raise their hands together in victory as the Horsemen lie decimated about ringside. Mixed pop from the crowd.] SR: The back-stabbing, double-crossing asshole! The Outlaw not only sold out the American Bozos, which is understandable, but he even sold out his own partners -- to join the Posse?! I can't believe this, Dross! [The Posse exchange hi-fives in the ring. The VDC holds open the ropes for the Outlaw, who steps out of the ring and jumps to the arena floor. The five of them head up the aisle, slapping each other on the back and turning back to laugh at the carnage they leave behind. Cut back to live action in the IIWF Coliseum as the ring crew finally complete the construction of the covered steel cage. Cut back to Dross and Roberts at the broadcast table.] SR: I'm telling you, Dross, we just don't have nights like that anymore. J.W. Hardin double-crossing not only Casey James and his moronic partner, the Man of Steel by linking back up with the guys who had apparently kicked him out after he lost the IIWF Championship at the first Ring Wars, but then _triple-crossing_ all of them by joining forces with the Posse! Pure genius, Dross. TD: Indeed. We've seen two of the IIWF's Hall of Famers in some classic action tonight -- Hakiro Matsuoko's tremendous Intercontinental Championship victory, and the Outlaw's heinous triple-cross -- and you can see action like that every Thursday on selected stations. Check local listings for details. SR: I'm not going to do that show any more, Dross. TD: So it seems. How long is it since you presented a classic match from the archives? SR: Not long enough, baby dolls. TD: Okay, folks, the ring crew have finished setting up the steel cage, so we're ready to go with our next incredible match. SR: We get to see Warnett where he belongs... in a cage! TD: It seems that a cage is the only way to put an end to this long running dispute between Lebec and Warnett. Do you remember the Hair vs. Hair match at Ring Wars II? SR: Who cares? Stop living in the past, Dross! TD: Is that why we never see your Classics show anymore? SR: It's a conspiracy, I tell you! TD: Why don't we talk about _this_ match... it's sure to be considered a classic one day. Both of these men are scheduled to be at Midsummer Madness on September 7 and... SR: Somebody get the suits a calendar, please! September is the fall! Not summer! TD: Well, technically the fall doesn't start until... SR: Don't give me that, Dross! When the cute little private school girls are back in uniform... it's the fall! TD: Yes, well... back to the stipulations of the match. It is inside a completely sealed cage. There is no climbing out and no door to escape from. A referee will be in the cage but only to count a pin or ask for a submission... there is no DQ! Let's get to the ring announcements! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| SEALED STEEL CAGE MATCH: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Marty Warnett vs. "Showstopper" Simon Lebec ....................................................................... WRITER: RP [Sparkplug Lee, standing in the ring as a large cage, having been constructed around the ring and then winched up by the roof, is suspended above, waiting for the combatants to enter. He keeps looking up, nervously, as if he is worried that it is going to fall down.] SL: This next match will be in a sealed steel cage "Once and For All"! This will be the last match between these two men on IIWF Saturday Night! Introducing first, hailing from Hollywood, California and weighing in at 239 pounds... "The Showstopper"...Simon Lebeeeeeeec! [Lebec's music, "Exodus", comes over the PA and Simon comes sauntering out, sneering at the boos of the fans and taking his own sweet time coming down the aisle. Before he's gone more than fifteen feet, Marty Warnett comes out from behind the curtain and levels him with a steel chair. Lebec is knocked flat on his face.] TD: Marty Warnett won't even wait for Lebec to get in the cage! He wants him now! SR: Walnut knows that if he doesn't hit him from behind he won't get another chance. Look at the guy take it to Lebec with the steel! [Warnett has continued his assault with the chair before finally dropping the chair and picking up Lebec. Sparkplug has realized that his service are no longer needed and has scrambled out of the ring so that it can be lowered the rest of the way -- Lee has a "thing" about being in cages. The official is waiting for the wrestlers to get to the ring so he can enter and lock the door behind him.] TD: It looks like Warnett is going to throw Lebec into the cage so that the match can begin and... no! SR: He threw him into the cage all right! Head first into the steel bars! I have to say I like Walnut's attitude for this match! TD: Marty Warnett is relentless in his attack on Simon Lebec. That's twice he's put him into the steel cage... and that's _after_ the beating he gave him with that chair! Lebec has been busted open and the match hasn't even really started! SR: Oh, it's started, Dross. It's started. [Warnett finally throws Lebec through the door and follows in himself.] TD: There we go. The official has entered the ring and locked the door. The bell has been rung and the match is under way! SR: Lebec had his bell rung five minutes ago, Dross! [Warnett is kicking Lebec viciously. Then he removes a leather belt from around his waist and commences whipping Lebec with it. The official looks like he wants to stop him, but he knows that he can't. Marty picks Simon up and whips him into the cage. As Lebec stumbles away from the cage wall Warnett runs at him and uses the belt to clothesline Lebec to the mat.] SR: This isn't a match! This is carnage! I love it! Too bad it's a guy who's such a putz normally doing the beating. TD: Lebec is a talented wrestler, but he seems to have met his match here. SR: There's no talent to this, Dross. Walnut cheated first and that's it. If Lebec doesn't have brass knuckles or something, this thing's over! [Warnett scoops Lebec up and puts him in a foreword facelock, clearly lining up a DDT. His leather belt is hanging from his other hand and dangling on the mat. Just when he is going to drive Lebec into the mat, Simon grabs the end of the belt and pulls it up, sweeping Marty right off of his feet.] SR: It looks like Simon isn't ready to give up yet! TD: He is got Warnett's belt! It looks like the shoe is on the other foot! [Lebec looks down at the belt in his hand and then throws it into the corner of the ring! He then locks up in a collar and elbow with the risen Marty Warnett.] SR: What the hell? Has Lebec gone insane? I hope he doesn't thing that "fair-play" is going to win him the cruiserweight title from Dirt Dog in September! TD: There certainly has been a bit of role reversal here! Warnett is keyed up after finding out that he will be facing Chris Quigley on that same card. Both of these men have a lot to prove and they are looking to take the first step here! [Lebec has pushed Warnett back to the cage and has slammed the back of his head against it. He then doubles him over with a knee to the midsection and slams him against the cage again] TD: Simon Lebec is starting to pick up his game and... the crowd is reacting to something... "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley is coming down to ringside! Remember, this is a no DQ match so if Quigley manages to interfere, that's bad news for Marty Warnett! SR: Aw, Kick-me will be too busy crying about something to actually do anything! [Lebec drops Warnett into a backbreaker and then picks him right back up and does it again. Lebec shoots a quick glance over to Quigley on the outside before going for the cover. The ref counts: 1 - 2 - and Warnett kicks out. Lebec picks him up and hoists him over in a vertical suplex into the cage.] TD: It's amazing that Lebec can do these moves after the beating he took just minutes ago! SR: I'm not much into those Hollywood clowns but people like Lebec could make me change my mind. He's one tough hombre! [Lebec has just dropped Warnett on his head with a piledriver and gone for the cover again. The ref only gets to 1 this time before Marty kicks out.] TD: Lebec is getting frustrated... yes, he's going for the belt! SR: Whip the Walnut! Yeehah! [Lebec takes the leather belt and wraps it firmly around Warnett's neck and commences choking him. Marty's face turns a very bright shade of red and Lebec just keeps squeezing. The ref keeps asking Warnett and checking his arm but the match continues.] SR: Squeeze harder! Pop his head like a pimple! TD: Colourful as usual, Steve Roberts. [Lebec releases Warnett and whips him into the corner. Marty flips head over heels and ends up inverted on the turnbuckles. Lebec uses the leather belt to tie Warnett to the cage. He then starts kicking and punching the defenseless wrestler but he still won't give up.] TD: Warnett is showing every bit as much fortitude as Simon Lebec did earlier. SR: Walnut is just to stupid to quit. Lebec is going to end this guy's career! [Lebec, getting ever more frustrated, releases Warnett and throws him into the middle of the ring. He then locks in a step over toe hold and then flips Warnett onto his back.] SR: That's the Antagonist! Warnett's gotta give up now! TD: Wait... it looks like Marty Warnett has just seen Quickstrike outside the ring for the first time! He seems to be gathering every bit of energy his body still possesses! It's like he's trying to prove something to Chris Quigley! SR: He's proving something to me! He's proving that it takes a long time for the pain message to reach his brain! [All of a sudden Lebec goes flying across the ring as Warnett powers out of the Antagonist. Huge, huge pop! Marty follows after him, wiping the blood that has accumulated from a cut above his eye, and lays into Lebec.] TD: This is sheer brutality! Both men are beaten! Both men are bleeding! Neither man is giving an inch! [Lebec is slowly getting the worst of their pummeling session and goes down. Warnett, still with the crazy gleam in his eye that he's had since first seeing Quigley outside the ring. The crowd is firmly behind him now, with chants of "Mar-ty! Mar-ty!" filling the air. He nails Lebec with a stomachbreaker. Quigley still looks impassive as Warnett climbs to the top rope and leaps off.] TD: A headbutt from the top rope to Lebec's already injured stomach! Warnett has connected with the Hangover! [Warnett covers Lebec, never taking his eyes off Quigley, and the ref counts: 1 - 2 - 3! DING! DING! DING!] TD: Marty Warnett wins it! SR: Yeah, and look at Kick-me high tail it out of here! TD: He didn't really seem to be in a hurry, but Warnett can't go after him until the cage is opened anyway. I don't think we will have a confrontation here. As the ring workers get the cage stored away and the wrestlers head back to the locker areas we have to wonder what this match implies for Midsummer Madness on September 7. SR: It means that Warnett and Quigley are going to kick the snot out of each other and if we're lucky they'll both have to retire. How about making it as loser leaves town match and since they are both losers they'll both have to leave. TD: This loss has sure got to hurt Simon Lebec's momentum going into his title match. SR: It sounds to me that Dirt Dog has practically conceded the thing, but who can tell with that nutball? [The cage door is opened and the bloody Warnett slowly makes his way out and down to the arena floor, where Chris Quigley still stands. As the fans cheer, Warnett and Quigley square up to one another, and appear to be having a few words. However, neither man moves to strike the other, and eventually, Quigley opens his arms wide as if to say that he has no wish to get into a confrontation with Warnett, and turns away from the Welshman and walks away. Warnett wipes his bloody hair away from his face and shakes his head as Quigley walks away, before following him up the aisle, never letting his eyes leave Quigley as he goes, absently slapping the hands of aisleside fans. Meanwhile, a ring crew is already working on dismantling the steel cage, and a frustrated Lebec has recovered sufficiently to label one of the unfortunate workers with a hard right hand as he leaves ringside.] TD: Well, Steve Roberts, Simon Lebec asked for this match -- but he didn't get the result he would have wished for. SR: No kidding, Dross. But I know that a first-class act like Lebec is only going to become more determined to succeed after a setback like this. The Dirt Dog can kiss his belt goodbye. TD: That remains to be seen, Steve Roberts. Up next, just as soon as this cage is dismantled, we have Mad Dog Watkins' first defence of his newly acquired Intercontinental Title, against the new Age of Rage recruit, Tony Starks.  This is set to be a real slobberknocker, Steve. SR: Who's up next?  Watkins?  Oh, this might be worth staying awake for!  TD: I have to agree.  His destruction of the red-gloved rookie, Creed, was a work of absolute genius. Sigmund Freud has nothing on this guy. His control over the whole situation was an impressive masterstroke -- diabolical, but none the less impressive. SR: Yeah, he played the whole "Black Pack" like that cute Chinese girl plays a Stradivarius.  With a slight wiggle of her behind, and a flash of those deep brown eyes... I'll tell you, she can play with.... TD: [Interrupting] ...er, thanks, Steve.  What do you make of his opponent, Tony Starks? SR: [with a wistful smile on his face]  Such a cute little behind... TD: Who?  Starks? SR: Watch it, Dross!  You might think along those lines, but I was talking about the Chinese girl.  Starks has battled back from more than one career-ending injury, so he has to be tough.  Watkins is going to have to work hard to get past him, but Watkins is "The Man" now, the whole fruit salad with full cream topping, and now he has this little cherry on top, no-one, man nor beast, is going to take his little cherry without having to lick the bowl clean first! TD: [pauses] Right.  I almost followed that, Steve.  The cherry was representative of his title, yes? SR: What _are_ you jabbering on about, Dross?  C'mon, Sparky, get into the ring, announce this match, and save me from his inane comments! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| IIWF INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Mad Dog Watkins [c] vs. Tony Starks ....................................................................... WRITER: MB [Almost as if on cue, Sparkplug Lee climbs onto the apron and steps into the centre of the ring with the mic in his hand.  After a quick glance to his crib-cards and a deep breath, he brings the mic to his mouth.] RA: Ladies and Gentlemen!  The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the IIWF Intercontinental Championship!  [Pop!] Introducing first, the challenger... [The PA system kicks into life, playing "C.R.E.A.M." by the Wu Tang Clan.] RA: Weighing 269lbs and hailing from New York... Tony Starks! [Tony Starks, a tall, powerful-looking black man, in his mid-twenties, breaks through the curtains, a white towel draped over his head as usual.  The new addition to his entrance however, is the beautiful Medusa Rage.  Together they make their way to ringside, ignoring the somewhat mild heel pop from the crowd.  Seemingly unconcerned by the crowd reaction, Starks slides under the bottom rope and takes up position in the corner to await his opponent.  Medusa chooses not to enter the ring, instead stands at ringside alongside her new charge.] RA: Introducing his opponent... [Heel Pop!]  Hailing from Detroit, Michigan... [Cat-calls from the crowds!]  Weighing 269lbs...  The current Intercontinental Champion...  Mad Dog Watkins! [The crowd's anger at the new champion is evident as they become increasingly incensed when the barrel-chested figure of Watkins appears at the head of the aisle, with the IC belt draped idly across one shoulder.  He looks to the crowd with a slight sneer and walks slowly down towards the ring, soaking in the criticisms and abuse levelled at him from the crowds by the barriers.  Four young black men stand and throw red-gloved hands into the air defiantly, then about-turn and leave the arena!  A small, half-filled cup is thrown from the crowd and splatters coke up Watkins' leg to absolutely no reaction from the Old Dog.  He climbs the ring-steps and steps casually into the ring.] TD: He certainly looks very confident, Steve. Could that be a mistake? Starks has the might of The Age Of Rage behind him, a genuine belt-taking machine!  I believe Ike Sampson is also in the arena tonight and you have to believe this young man is going to be very unhappy after Watkins' actions last Saturday! SR: Don't forget, Dross.  Starks and Ike have got something of a friendship blossoming too.  You just have to look at last Wednesday's card to see that. TD: You watched the Wednesday War Room?  I'm amazed!  You are right, though, I feel young Sampson may play a decisive role in this encounter. [As Lee exits the ring, the referee, Joey Patrick, wastes little time in signalling for the bell.  Mad Dog, lays his belt under the buckle before turning around slowly into a huge avalanche/clothesline from Starks!  Pop!  Watkins is crushed between the buckle and the charging Starks and as he staggers out from the corner, the Staten Island native steps behind him and Bulldogs him to the mat and ties him up with a step-over toe hold, which has the champ writhing in pain.] TD: Starks is the same height, give or take an inch, and exactly the same weight as Mad Dog.  Watkins doesn't want to be too complacent here tonight. SR: Watkins may be many things, but complacent isn't one of them.  He's measuring the man, seeing what he is bringing to the game, before stepping up the tempo and destroying him. [Joey drops to the mat to ask Watkins, but it is obvious, regardless of the pain, submission is not on the agenda.  Starks keeps the toe-hold in place for a minute or so, before grapevining the leg and throwing some hard punches into the left knee of the champ.  The crowds are obviously partisan and cheer Starks' assault with vigour!  Watkins begins to claw his way to the ropes as the ref continues to badger him for a submission and, on the outside, Medusa smiles as she sees their gameplan executed perfectly.  Inch by inch Watkins crawls until, at last, he reaches the ropes and Starks breaks almost immediately.  Starks steps back to allow Wakins to get to his feet, then steps straight back in with a nasty combination of kicks to Watkins leg, which has the champ wobbling. Starks grabs the leg, drives two elbows into the knee and... Pop!] TD: Ouch! A Dragon Screw leg drag!  That's got to hurt!  That is one of the many moves that Starks has added to his arsenal since his foray into the Orient earlier this year.  Debilitating isn't it, Steve? SR: Not bad, Dross. But it's no asai moonsault. [The champ doesn't seem to have a reply to the Staten Island native's merciless assault on his leg, as Tony drags him back into the middle of the ring and wraps him up in a figure-four leglock, piling the pressure on the knee of his opponent.  The move seems to anger, rather than pain Watkins, as he sits straight up and starts wrenching Starks' foot back and forth, then rolls him over, then again until they reach the ropes. As they near the ropes, rolling still, Watkins grabs the bottom rope and swings his legs out of the ring.  Starks, unable to extricate himself from the hold in time, is dragged from the ring and crashes horribly to the ringmats!  Heel Pop!  Medusa rushes around the ring to check the condition of her charge and with a worried frown, starts to distract the ref from starting his obligatory ten count.  Watkins slides from the ring and gingerly tests how much weight he can apply on his left leg, before pulling Starks up and hitting a vicious-looking DDT!] TD: [with and audible shudder] Oh man, that was evil! [The capacity crowds hiss their displeasure, while a small group of hardcore fans cheer a move that could draw blood.  Watkins looks over at Medusa and smiles as she has a look of shock on her face after having caught the move out of the corner of her eye.  Joey Patrick, also seeing the move, begins to issue a warning to bring the match back into the ring, but it falls on deaf ears.  Watkins pulls the stunned black man back up and following a struggle to find hair long enough to grab, lays him back out with a neckbreaker, Starks' head snapping off the mat awfully!  Heel Pop!] SR: Watkins slips into second gear... [The man from Detroit, stands and turns around barely in time to stop a swinging right hook from Medusa!  He looks at her and with a sneer, cocks a fist back as if to punch her.  A shocked Medusa back-pedals quickly to avoid the threatened punch, almost tripping over the still-prone figure of Starks, much to Mad Dog's amusement!  Heel Pop! The ref continues to count the two men out, allowing a little leniency, but obviously vexed, he reaches - 8 - before the Dog slides quickly in and back out of the ring to interrupt the count.  Starks begins to stir and with an effort written right across his face in pain, pushes himself up to a sitting position, then slowly to his feet, where… he is met with a crippling short-arm clothesline that flips him through 360 degrees!] SR: ...into third... [Watkins sneers at the referee, Joey Patrick's warning, and with a limp he sits across Starks' chest and begins to throw heavy closed-fists into the head of the Age of Rage member.  Joey is clearly irate at being blatantly ignored, and he too slips out of the ring in an effort to interrupt Watkins' attack.  As Patrick catches an upraised arm and shouts at Watkins, Starks uses the distraction to land a heavy blow to the midsection of the champ which knocks the air clean out of his sails, followed by a forearm that almost takes his head off at the shoulder! Patrick looks a little red-faced and slinks back into the ring] SR: Crash and Burn!  Crash and Burn!  Watch my seat, Dross, I'm going to see Poutine Janois.  Watkins is in a handicap match out there -- he's up against Starks, Medusa _and_ the ref! TD: Sit down, Steve. The Head of our Special Concerns Committee hasn't spoken to you since you threw that beer into his face two months back. SR: He put his hand on my knee, Dross! You know those touchy-feely French-Canadians, one drink too many and they can't tell one sex from another.  What am I supposed to do, smile and bend over like you and Morton? TD: [sigh]  In one sentence you have managed to upset two separate nations, half of the announcing staff and the entire back-office of the IIWF.  Amazing. SR: So bite me! [Watkins is knocked senseless by the last blow as Starks climbs to his feet and tries to clear his head.  He rolls Watkins back into the ring and drags him towards the corner, looking to wrap his leg around the post.  Mad Dog has a different idea however and manages to grab the ropes and pull himself sharply out of the corner as Starks grabs the leg, pulling the New York native face-first into the post with a sickening thud!  Heel Pop!  Watkins leaves the ring again, long enough to throw Starks back in, and showing great strength, gutwrenched him up and...] TD: His leg gave out!  Mad Dog's knee buckled under him and Starks is on his feet... Oh my!  A huge Belly to Belly suplex from Starks leaves them both spent! [Both men lay on their backs in the centre of the ring, neither able to capitalise on the other.  Tense seconds pass as Watkins desparately tries to roll over and drape an arm across Starks' chest, while Medusa hammers the mat to stir her charge into action when suddenly, like a Mexican wave, the crowd all stand and turn to face the aisle to see the curtains part and a dark figure run out like a bat out of hell! Medusa seeing the crowd's reaction, charges towards the onrushing man, only to be easily flung aside as the newcomer slides under the bottom rope! Pop!] TD: It's Ike Sampson!  Ike Sampson has hit the ring! [Sampson stands in the ring, looking down on the two semi-prone combatants, watching Watkins' arm slowly arc into the air and down across Starks' chest in a very weak pin attempt as the crowd cheer his arrival madly.  The ref looks at Ike, looks at the pin attempt, looks back to Ike and finally, drops to the floor and starts a count - 1 - Ike looks to the crowd for approval and finds plenty - 2 - he looks down at his old mentor and... hits a huge leg-drop across Watkins' head! Huge Pop!] TD: The ref is up and calling for the bell!  This one's over, folks! [Ding! Ding! Ding!] SR: Watkins keeps the belt.  The little pup couldn't stand seeing his new friend get beaten by an old man, so that makes it four against one... You watching this, Janois? Four against one and he still keeps the belt! [Ike drags Mad Dog up to a set of very shaky feet by his hair and begins to pound punch after punch into his face.  Each punch eliciting a louder pop from the crowd, than the last!  Fist after fist is pounded into the face of the old Dog, until Watkins manages to block one, then another, then a third.  Watkins fires a punch back of his own, Ike throws another... As the ref signals for the bell a second time, the two ex-Black Pack members are trading punch for punch in the middle of the ring, sending the crowd into a frenzy, with chants of "Ike", "Ike", "Ike", while Medusa helps a groggy Starks from the ring.] TD: Those two men are really going at it.  There is no love lost between them anymore.  Whoa!  Make that _five_ against one, Steve, we have more company! SR: C'mon, give me a break!  How many times to I have to drop this guy before he lands a job with the Jobber Justice Squad? [The curtains part again, and the imposing figure of The Highwayman walks through them, drawing a noticable heel pop from the crowd!] TD: He made it known earlier in the week and on Wednesday that he is the next member of Genesis to want a belt, and guess which belt he has set his eyes on! SR: He doesn't need a belt, Dross -- he needs a belt_ing_. [Highwayman walks down the aisle, revelling in the boos of the crowd as Medusa and Starks look incredulously back in the ring to discover that somehow, Mad Dog is holding his own in a brawl with Ike Sampson! Watkins throws a hard kick to the midsection of Ike which doubles the young man up, then, a vicious clothesline sends him toppling over the ropes to the outside!  Huge Heel Pop!  Medusa and Starks help the fallen Sampson to his feet then have to restrain him from re-entering the ring!  The two of them hanging onto an arm each barely manage to drag him back up the aisle, past an approaching Highwayman, leaving Mad Dog standing alone, triumphant in the ring.] RA: Your winner in this match as a result of a disqualification... and _STILL_ Intercontinental Champion... HWM: [interrupting] ...but not for much longer! [Lee, unaccustomed to being interrupted, falls silent as Highwayman climbs into the ring and the boos of the crowd increase in volume!  The two men stand toe-to-toe in the middle of the ring as Highwayman brings the mic back to his lips to speak again...] HWM: Mad Dog!  You didn't listen to me last week, did you?  You thought I was just another fool who is all too eager to throw some threats at the man with the gold!  You were wrong, Mad Dog, you were badly wrong!  I am Genesis, Mad Dog... You know what that means?  MDW: It means you are a...  [Pop!] HWM: [Interrupting] ...wrong, Mad Dog.  Like all the other idiots in this federation, you continue to underestimate us.  Genesis isn't a group of weaklings and under-achievers relying on one-another for success like you all seem to think.  Genesis is a uniting of forces that comprise the present and future of the IIWF.  Requiem, the World Champion; Cold Spell, the World Tag Team Champions; Serge Annis, the most destructive force in wrestling today; Scott Rogers, the most powerful man in the IIWF... and Adam Smith, The Highwayman -- the next Intercontinental Champion!  [Heel Pop!] We are not about "revolution," Watkins, we are about "evolution," and you, _Old_ Dog... you are about to become extinct! [Highwayman drops the mic at the feet of the Champ and after a momentary staredown, backs out of the ring and back up the aisle, leaving the champion in the ring, staring after the retreating figure.  Cut back to the announcer's table.] SR: Give me a break!  [putting on a sqeaky voice] "We're not about revolution... we are about evolution."  Yadda, yadda, yadda -- those guys give me a headache. Who's up next, Dross? TD: Well, it is go time now, Steve. SR: Hah!  What you're gonna see is that punk Thunder "go" in his pants when he stands across the ring from the Fury, Dross.  This is gonna be mean, ugly, nasty-bad. TD: Don't sell a man like Brody Thunder short, Steve Roberts.  This is one of the top competitors in this sport -- and he will give Steve Kowalski everything he could want tonight. SR: Yeah, and what the Fury wants is for Thunder to drop to his knees... TD: Steve Roberts! SR: ...and beg for mercy.  Damn, Dross -- this is the fiftieth IIWF Saturday Night, why do you think I'm suddenly gonna start using inappropriate innuendo? TD: I can't imagine. SR: Well, you're not gonna have to imagine much longer, Dross... I hear Thunder's got his knee pads out and his Listerine ready! TD: Let's... let's get to ringside. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder vs. Steve Kowalski |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee, in a fruitless attempt to drown out the voices inside his head, takes the mic...] SL: The following contest is set for one fall... Introducing first, weighing 267 pounds, from Newark, New Jersey, he is the former IIWF Intercontintental Champion... Steve "The Fury" Kowalski! [Huge pop as "Don't Fear the Reaper" begins, the chants of "Fury! Fury!" ringing through the building.] TD: Here comes Steve Kowalski! [Big pop as Kowalski enters, standing at the top of the aisle, clearly looking irritated.  Kowalski surveys the crowd, looking up at the ring and shaking his head.  Kowalski begins to walk down the aisle... stops... Kowalski begins again... peeling off his Harley Davidson jacket... and then stops again.  Kowalski looking back up the aisle as the music stops...] TD: Kowalski is leaving!  Steve Kowalski is going up the aisle!  I don't have any idea what this is about, Steve Roberts!  SR: It ain't worth the Fury's time, Dross.  Why does Steve Kowalski need to waste his time on some overrated cowboy like Brody Thunder... when the Arm Bar's got nickel brew night for underaged girls? TD: I hear we're going to the... we have a camera in the back... [Cut to just outside the view of the crowd: Steve Kowalski is now just behind the curtain, swearing up a storm, Kowalski yelling that Thunder "sure ain't the next big thing," and that he should "have to go out first with the rest of the jabrones." An IIWF official points the Fury back out, the official saying that Kowalski has been announced -- and he's got to go the the ring... Kowalski gets in his face, grabbing the suit of the "suit" and lifting him off the ground... Kowalski yelling that he never goes to the ring first... that he ain't going until Thunder goes.] TD: Well, this is just silly, Steve Roberts.  Why does it matter who goes out first? SR: Spoken by a man who's never worn a jockstrap in his life.  It's gamesmanship, Dross.  Kowalski's a genius... he's gonna get inside Thunder's head -- get under his skin.  Speakin' of skin... do you have any singles, Dross?  Arms ain't the only things showin' at the Arm Bar, tonight! [Kowalski remains in the back, absolutely refusing to enter the aisle. The fans now watch on the video wall, the Fury shaking his head as a team of IIWF officials now surround him, all pointing toward the ring... Kowalski refusing -- Kowalski shoving!  Steve Kowalski shoving each man down... Steve Kowalski now with right hands at members of the IIWF administration!  Security forces swarm the entranceway, Kowalski no longer being led to the ring... but being led away from the arena!  Twelve sets of hands grab onto Steve Kowalski as he is being guided from the backstage area, Kowalski being restrained by IIWF security, Kowalski grabbed and... and... And he is struck down by Brody Thunder! Thunder dives atop Kowalski, Thunder attacking the Fury while he was held up by IIWF officials!  Thunder ripping off a series of right hands at the Fury... Security officials now grab at Thunder, trying to stop Brody Thunder as he rams Steve Kowalski's head into the concrete floor!  And now Kowalski is up... Kowalski scrambling away from Thunder... Kowalski grabbing a nearby stool -- and swinging it wildly... Kowalski wiping out members of the IIWF security force with a stool... Kowaski swinging as he is again caught by Thunder!  Thunder with right hands, Thunder driving Kowalski back... back... back into the post-match buffet area! A large banquet table... a post-card spread... and now Steve Kowalski and Brody Thunder! Kowalski fires away with rights and lefts... Kowalski with sharp boots, knocking Thunder to the floor.  Kowalski grabs the plate of coldcuts... and jamming it into the face of Brody Thunder!] TD: Aw, hell. [Thunder is covered in corned beef, swimming in salami, buried in bologna as Kowalski lays into his with boots... Thunder grabs a fallen water cooler as he lies on the concrete... Thunder ramming -- ramming -- ramming -- the plastic cooler over the head of Kowalski, lemon-lime Gatorade spilling out all over the Fury and running down the concrete floor.   Thunder now grabs another cooler, one containing the more adult beverages -- Thunder tossing it at Kowalski... and then dropkicking him to the concrete, bottles of beer exploding all over the room, foam and glass spewing all over the room as members of the Jobber Justice Squad enter... grabbing at each man.] SR: Aw, hell. [Thunder and Kowalski scramble to their feet, security and the JJS descending on them with more than the usual fervor as the two brutal wrestlers spill over onto the table... getting dangerously close to bus driver Nils' Famous Swedish Meatballs...] TD: NO! NO!  Not the meatballs! [Clearly possessed by an emotion beyond protecting fellow wrestlers, the Jobber Justice Squad separates Thunder and Kowalski, The Smooth grabbing frantically at the chafing dish as security drags a still wild Thunder and Kowalski from the room. The camera's path is obstructed by a gang of security staff, "suits" and JJS members. The video wall cuts from this scene of carnage back to the IIWF logo. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: I think... I think that Thunder and Kowalski have been ejected from this building -- that's gonna be a no-contest and I would presume that we may see some fines levied. SR: Let-them-play.  Let-them-play.  Let-them-play. TD: Nevertheless, that will bring us to the main event! SR: Hey, Dross -- know what would be a good idea for a wrestler? TD: I shudder to think. SR: A guy who was "Mr. Main Event"... you know, he said that whatever match he was on had to be the top match on the card -- say he was wrestling the Gecko on a Wednesday... he'd have Sparkplug say it was the main event of the evening... maybe some fireworks, celebrities, a guest timekeeper.  It would be great, Dross.  "Mr. Main Event"! TD: And the purpose of that would be...? SR: For fun, dammit!  You know, party, carrumba, fiesta, forever... TD: You've been spending too much time training The Smooth. SR: Ah, Dross -- El Smoothie Grande can go, baby dolls.  He's got the double stomp down, he can almost get into the three point stance -- if we get this guy a two by four and a flag... he could win a secondary belt in a couple of those big southern promotions. TD: Let's get to the ring. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| IIWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Requiem [c] vs. Casey "Blackheart" James ....................................................................... WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee gives a thumbs up to the Sign Guy Sychopath who is holding up a sign covered in pictures of "Loop" superstars which reads, "I $old Out!", as he takes the mic.] SL: The following contest is your _Main Event_ of the evening and is for the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship! [Fireworks explode all around the arena as the crowd buzzes with excitement.] Introducing first, the challenger.  He is the former IIWF World Heavyweight Champion... the longest tenured Champion in the history of the IIWF... he hails from Washington D.C. and weighs in at 340lbs... he is one half of the Syndicate... Casey "Blackheart" James! [Huge mixed pop as "Foul Taste of Freedom" kicks in over the P.A, the pop quickly dying down as no one appears in the aisle.] TD: He's not here!  Casey "Blackheart" James is _not_ here! SR: There has been somne whispering, Dross -- I tried to get to the bottom of it -- I tried and I tried... but ain't no one giving any firm information.  TD: Are you saying that you knew Casey James would not show up this evening? Are you saying that Casey James is _not_ going to fulfill his contractual commitment to face Requiem tonight? SR: I ain't sayin' nothing that I ain't sayin', Dross.  All I am sayin' is that there is something to say and if there is something to say then I'm gonna be the one who ain't gonna say it! TD: Good grief. [Sparkplug Lee looks with confusion to the timekeeper's table... and is met with shrugs from the thoroughly disinterested IIWF suits, two of whom appear to be playing rock-paper-scissors.] SL: And his opponent... [Confused, but loud heel pop as "The Music of the Unknowingly Damned" begins.] SL: From parts unknown... he weighs 306 pounds and is accompanied down the aisle by his sister, Gabrielle and stablemate Scott Rogers... he is the leader of the group called Genesis and is the IIWF World Heavyweight Champion... this _is_ Requiem! [The heel roar increases as the words, "From This Day Forth... Until the End of Time... There Will Be No Mercy For the Damned!" are heard over the P.A. Rogers and Gabrielle begin their walk to the ring, followed by the Heavyweight Champion of the world, whose normal in-ring attire is augmented by a black t-shirt which reads "Genesis:  Be Afraid.  Be Very Afraid." Requiem hits the ring with a confident smile on his face as he is clearly aware that Casey James has no-showed the match.  The crowd begins to loudly boo his antics as he directs Rogers to almost mockingly check under the ring... the young superstar giving an exaggerrated "all clear" signal.] TD: I don't know... I've been informed that we will indeed have a match here tonight, Steve Roberts.  I have been informed that the IIWF Special Concerns Committee... SR: Bed-wetting morons. TD: ...is feverishly looking for a replacement... and that there will be a man who walks down to the ring literally any second now -- and he and the Requiem are going to get it on! SR: I'll do it, goddammit.  I'll smack this punk around if no one else has the guts! [The crowd anxiously looks up the aisle, the floor seated members of the Genesis Generation stomping and clapping with anticipation as a familiar figure begins a walk to the ring to a big, big crowd pop.] TD: It's... It's Derek Mota!  It's Derek Mota... oh, no.  Oh no... this can't happen. SR: I love the crazy little Canadian bastard, Dross.  Look at him... look at Derek F'n Mota! [Mota slowly, painfully makes his way up the aisle, he remains in his hospital gown, a leather jacket thrown over it and he walks with his intravenous fluid bad still attached to his arm, Mota dragging the IV, and dragging himself resolutely up the aisle as the crowd begins to roar "Mo - ta! Mo - ta! Mo-ta!!"] TD: Well, this is no good at all, Steve Roberts.  You have to admire the courage of this young man, who has placed himself in suicidal predicaments week after week -- he, almost alone, has continually attacked Genesis -- and he has bought an enforced hospital stay for his troubles.  He can not -- he will not get into the ring this evening. [The Genesis Generation laughs heartily as Mota limps to the ring, Rogers and Gabrielle exiting the ring and beginning to go after the Canadian -- but IIWF officials swarm over Mota -- and push him back up the aisle and out of view.] TD: Cooler heads prevail here, Steve Roberts... but this Requiem... this Genesis group may be the most controversial in the history of the IIWF. There is genuine anger at this man -- at the way that he has ascended to the title so quickly... and a good deal of backroom turmoil about the belt that he holds.  [The crowd is being whipped into a frenzy now, as Requiem climbs each turnbuckle to cockily show off his Championship belt... the crowd beginning to throw debris -- many in the Genesis Generation now shouting epithets at the remainder of this twenty thousand strong IIWF crowd as Sparkplug Lee moves back into the ring...] SL: Ladies and Gentlemen... the challenger... [The lights flicker and a shadowy figure is seen at the top of the aisle... and then the crowd screams as his voice is heard from the darkness.] "Greetings, Mortals.  Greetings, Soldiers of Hell. Greetings, Requiem." [Huge pop as the man appears in the aisle.] TD: It's the Deathbringer!  It's the Deathbringer!  The Deathbringer is going to fight for the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship... he is going to meet Requiem tonight... he is going to meet Requiem... Right Now! [The crowd begins to pop wildly as the Bringer makes his way to the ring...] DB: How is the IIWF feeling tonight? [The crowd roars... the chants of "Bring - er! Bring - er!" ringing through the arena.] DB: Well... I am in the mood to kill tonight. [Huge pop as "Symphony of Death" plays over the P.A. as the 'Bringer reaches the apron... Scott Rogers and Gabrielle stand on the opposite side of the ring, huddling over strategy -- but the Requiem does not move -- his stare affixed on the Deathbringer since his entrance in the aisle.] DB: Requiem... Genesis... prepare to meet your maker! [The crowd pops as the opening bell rings: Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: This place has exploded, Steve Roberts -- we are about to see the Deathbringer one-on-one with the man who devastated him in that historic match at Birthday Bash... Deathbringer and the Requiem! SR: Come on, Bringer!  One for old times' sake! [Deathbringer enters the ring, and quickly the two men are exchanging blows!  The Bringer fires away with a fast series of right hands, rocking the Champion back to the corner.  Deathbringer wails away at the Requiem's midsection, the crowd cheering wildly his every move.  Deathbringer lands a _huge_ reverse knife edge... And the Requiem grabs him around the throat! The Requiem grabs the 'Bringer and hurls him into the corner!  Requiem firing away with european uppercuts!  Requiem jabbing at the 'Bringer's throat, sharply looking to get inside that mysterious cloak and thrust against the Dead Man's larynx.] TD: He's choking him!  Requiem is blatantly choking the Deathbringer! Look at him, he's choking the Deathbringer! SR: Damn officials... when is this rampant cheating going to stop? TD: Rampant cheating? SR: I gets all confused when Culture Club is wrestling, Dross.  Help me. [The official moves to break the hold... which Requiem does... backing away while... while Gabrielle sneaks to the apron -- and chokes the 'Bringer with the tag rope!  Big Albino Sister Pop! The official looks back to the corner... but Gabrielle slips down, affecting a "Who, me? I'm just a girl!" expression of which many males in the crowd are familiar.  Requiem charges back in... thrusting his boot across the 'Bringer's throat... grabbing the side ropes for leverage as he jams that big leg in.] TD: Requiem is clearly abusing the rules here, Steve Roberts.  He knows he keeps the belt on a disqualification. SR: Like Joe Petrow earlier this evening... congrats, Joe! TD: ...and he is walking that line.  Look, there again... he doesn't break at the five count... Requiem does not break at the five count!  He is making referee D'Amato physically grab him.  But D'Amato is known to "let things go"... to give the people what they want to see.  And no one wants to see an early DQ. [Gabrielle and Requiem continue their double team of the 'Bringer -- until the former champion staggers out of the corner... grasping at his neck and falling to the mat. Requiem takes advantage, dropping a big leg across the neck of the Dead Man and covering... 1 -- 2 -- NO!  Kickout by Deathbringer. Requiem applies a reverse chinlock, Requiem wrenching away at the Dead Man's neck, Requiem smiling as the fans stomp, the fans exhorting the 'Bringer to power out of the hold...] TD: Requiem's strategy is clear... work the neck of the Deathbringer. In fact, close observers of the matches of this man, even before his "change in attitude," will find that Requiem is an almost meticulous wrestler... often picking out the neck area of an opponent and concentrating on it. SR: Boy Requiem's a dangerous man, Dross.  I ain't never said anything different... he's a dangerous, destructive force.  He's also gonna be Deathbringer's bitch tonight.  Come on, Dead Man!  Get your big butt off the mat! [Deathbringer, possibly responding to the stirrings of the crowd, powers up to his feet, breaking away from the Requiem with three big elbows, and then springboarding off the ropes with a big flying clothesline! Big Pop!] TD: Standing dropkick!  Standing dropkick!  The World Champion just knocked Deathbringer flat with a standing dropkick!  Oh My! [Requiem winds up with a big elbow... and gets nothing but mat as the 'Bringer rolls away!  Pop! Deathbringer stands as the fans roar, pulling Requiem to his feet and into an Irish whip... Big Boot by the Deathbringer!  Pop!  Requiem staggers to his feet... Deathbringer again whips -- reverse -- and it's Deathbringer with a Thesz press!  Deathbringer leaping atop Requiem and pounding him down into the mat... the 'Bringer pounding the champion into the mat!  Big Big Pop!] TD: Deathbringer's turned it around, Steve Roberts! Deathbringer... Deathbringer is ramming Requiem's head into the canvas! SR: The 'Bringer is lettin' it loose, Dross.  He's playing rip and roll all over Boy Requiem's ass! [The crowd counts to ten as the Bringer slams Requiem's head into the canvas, then picks up the Requiem and corner-whips him hard. Deathbringer charges with a clothesline... And connects!  The Bringer rocking Requiem's head back with a huge clothesline!  Deathbringer whips again... sending the Requiem hard cross-corner and charging... Big Pop!] TD: Requiem slipped it!  Requiem slipped the charge and the Deathbringer hits hard against the buckle... and he's going up into the air! [A huge pop as Requiem lifts the 'Bringer high into a military press, Requiem stepping back into the corner, and dropping Deathbringer over the ringpost!  Requiem drops Deathbringer over the ringpost... Huge Heel Pop!] TD: Oh no... there's that brutal, brutal Reqbreaker -- Requiem slamming the Deathbringer's back down over that ringpost.  This is real bad. SR: And it's about to get worse, Dross... here comes Scott Rogers! [With the crowd booing ferociously and the Genesis Generation feverishly cheering their man, their Champion -- who distracts the official -- Scott Rogers pulls the Deathbringer off the ringpost... slamming his head down on the steel steps.  Rogers smirkingly taunts the dead man, waving at him to "get his dead ass up" as he delivers a huge whip into the timekeeper's table. Big Pop as the Deathbringer collapses, falling to the floor as Rogers advances... Big Big Pop!] TD: The Bringer's got the scythe!  The Bringer's got the scythe!  He jams the blunt end into the ribs of Rogers... and Rogers is down! Oh My! SR: I love to see it, Dross -- the Bringer showing a little emotion... a little fire... a little anger.  It's a necrophiliac's dream... you gotta love it when the dead man gets his back up, Dross.  TD: Fifty IIWF Saturday Nights... and now we start talking about necrophilia. [The crowd roars as the Bringer takes Rogers' head -- ramming it hard into the table!  Big Pop as Rogers falls to the floor!  Requiem now leaps to the outside -- landing atop the 'Bringer with a double axe to the back... and then whacks away with a series of reverse knife edges! Requiem winds up, whipping Deathbringer -- reverse -- and it's Requiem who clangs hard into the steel steps!  Big 'Bringer Pop! Deathbringer advances on the champion... and is jumped on... is leapt atop of by Gabrielle!  Gabrielle rakes the eyes through the holes in the 'Bringer's mask!  Deathbringer lurches... falling away as the official orders Gabrielle away. Requiem and Rogers then grab ahold of the 'Bringer, lifting him in a double vertical suplex -- and dropping him him hard over the Spanish announce table!  Huge multicultural pop!] TD: Oh... oh, that is so wrong I can't even think about it, Steve Roberts.  Gabrielle has really changed since she came back from Hong Kong -- and now she has changed the course of this match.  I don't know where the Highwayman is  -- I don't know where Annis is... but believe me, Rogers and Gabrielle have made their presence felt tonight! SR: Damn, dirty women.  I been sayin' this for years, Dross.  Three things I can't stand in wrestling -- women, midgets, celebrities -- you ever bring Mary Lou Retton into the IIWF -- and I'm going up on the tower with my shotgun. [The table breaks clean in half, the fans roaring, "IIWF! IIWF! IIWF!" as Requiem peels the broken body of the Deathbringer from the wooden shards... dumping him back into the ring. Requiem stands over the prone 'Bringer as each man is in the ring, letting the enormous heel reaction envelop him as he draws a thumb across his throat!] TD: This one is all over, Steve Roberts... Requiem is about to put this man away! [Requiem places a boot over the throat of the 'Bringer as the official counts: 1 -- 2 -- NO!  The Deathbringer just does get a shoulder up. Requiem grows more serious, driving his heel into the Deathbringer's throat, then snapping down two sharp elbowdrops before going for a cover: 1 -- 2 -- NO!  Deathbringer kicks out! Requiem lifts the Deathbringer to his feet, impatiently throwing a European uppercut and then wrapping up the big man -- reverse -- Deathbringer backsliding the Requiem -- reverse -- Requiem with the backslide... Requiem with the back... Reverse!  Deathbringer lifting the Heavyweight Champion into the air! Into the air!!] TD: Powerbomb!  Powerbomb!  We've got a new Champion! [Huge pop as the Deathbringer exhaustedly falls atop, hooking a leg: 1 -- 2 -- ] TD: He kicked out!  Requiem... Requiem kicked out! [Deathbringer wastes no time as the crowd groans the nearfall, 'Bringer moving to the legs, and applying a quick Indian deathlock!  The fans pop wildly as the 'Bringer wrenches back on the submission hold, Requiem appears shocked -- amazed at the long forgotten piece of the Deathbringer arsenal... the official checks for a submission...] TD: The Champ's not gonna quit, Steve.  He's not gonna quit -- you have to be impressed with both men here tonight..both men giving everything they have.  SR: I am not impressed by Boy Requiem... I don't give a damn what colors his dreams are... I just want to see his ass give up.  Quit, punk! Quit!! [Requiem strains against the hold, the official checking, and then moving to the apron as Gabrielle stands complaining... In comes Rogers... Scott Rogers with a steel chair!  And the Bringer sees him!  Deathbringer stands and grabs Rogers by the throat!] TD: Enjoy the canvas, Mr. Rogers! [Rogers drops the chair... squirming as he tries to escape the clutches of the 'Bringer -- Gabrielle grabbing referee D'Amato as the 'Bringer lifts... WHACK!] TD: Oh no!  Requiem just clobbered the 'Bringer with the chair! Requiem hit the Deathbringer with the chair... and he has the cover! [Rogers grabs the chair and dives out of the ring... the official turns around and slaps the mat: 1 -- Requiem presses down, Deathbringer motionless -- 2 -- Requiem remains locked in, D'Amato's hand moving again to the mat...] TD: NO!  NO!  NO!  Deathbringer kicked out!!  Deathbringer kicked out!! SR: Attaboy Freak!  Attaboy! [The crowd rises as one, stomping their feet as the 'Bringer rises -- the shock apparent in those piercing eyes of the Champion... Deathbringer standing, Requiem throws right hand after right hand... all without effect! Deathbringer slowly moves forward... Requiem springboards hard off the ropes with a shoulderblock... ...and falls hard to the mat!  Deathbringer unmoving!  Big Pop as Requiem moves again to his feet... bouncing off the backropes and lunging at the Deathbringer with a flying forearm... And is caught!  The Deathbringer snatches the three hundred pounds plus World Champion out of the air by the throat and readies him to go...] TD: Oh My! [As the 'Bringer moved for the chokeslam, Requiem leapt across his back, grabbing a quick facelock, and driving the Deathbringer to the canvas with a DDT!  And a cover... 1 -- 2 -- NO!  Deathbringer kicks out!] TD: Unbelievable... Requiem pulls out an unbelievable athletic maneuver with that DDT... but the 'Bringer still refuses to go away! SR: Damn, that was one hell of a DDT, Dross.  I hate the son of an unnamed goat -- but the guy can go. [Each man is on his feet, Requiem whips the Deathbringer nearside, catching him on his return with an abdominal stretch... Requiem with an abdominal stretch that the 'Bringer breaks with a sharp armdrag takeover.  Deathbringer snapmares the Requiem over into a reverse chinlock, from which Requiem powers up... maneuvering into a backslide: 1 -- 2 -- NO! Deathbringer kicks out and Requiem whips him farside, bouncing off the near ropes himself and grabbing the 'Bringer into a bulldog headlock takedown as they meet in the middle!  Big heel pop as Requiem covers again... 1 -- 2 -- NO!] TD: The Deathbringer has kicked out again!  The Deathbringer has kicked out again! [Requiem pulls the 'Bringer to his feet, whipping him into the buckle -- reverse -- Requiem goes hard into the buckle and then charges...] TD: Oh NO!  Requiem pulled... he pulled Dave D'Amato in the way! Requiem pulled Dave D'Amato in the way... and the referee is down!! SR: It's gonna break loose now, Dross.  It's all gonna break loose!  [Scott Rogers grabs a portion of the steel steps, hurling them into the ring... Deathbringer advances toward Requiem, whipping him into the opposite corner. The champion smacks hard and staggers out, Deathbringer grabbing him -- turning Requiem over into piledriver position!  Deathbringer holding Requiem up for a piledriver... And into the ring comes Rogers... Scott Rogers comes into the ring... Rogers moving toward the 'Bringer... Wild Pop!] TD: Deathbringer throws Requiem at Rogers!  Deathbringer tossed Requiem at Rogers... both men are down!  Both men are down! [Huge Pop as the two big men are spawled out, Requiem and Rogers thrown together atop the steel steps... Deathbringer advances --- And is cut from behind by the Highwayman!  The Highwayman jumps out of the crowd, out of the Genesis Generation and enters the ring! The Highwayman takes out a Deathbringer knee, and then hits the Daylight Robbery! Highwayman nails the Daylight Robbery and then he and Rogers dive out of the ring, Requiem moving to the 'Bringer, scooping him up... and nailing a belly-to-back reverse piledriver!  Requiem sending the Deathbringer's head to the canvas with the Retribution... as Gabrielle rouses D'Amato... who looks up... and counts: 1 -- 2 -- 3!] SL: Your winner... and _STILL_ IIWF World Heavyweight Champion... REQUIEM!!!! ["The Music of the Unknowingly Damned begins" as Requiem's hand is raised, and the crowd boos mercilessly.  Rogers and the Highwayman enter, all three men celebrating over the fallen body of the Deathbringer, each laying in a quick series of boots.  D'Amato attempts to interfere... but is shoved out of the ring by Rogers.] TD: Requiem has kept the belt, despite a tremendous effort by the former Champion, Deathbringer, but I don't believe Genesis is going to be content with just a victory. I think they are going to extract another pound of flesh from the Deathbringer! SR: To the victors go the punking, Dross.  And the Dead Man is about to get to know why these guys rule the roost here in the IIWF. [The fans begin to hurl debris into the ring, but not all of it is unfriendly toward the group called Genesis, their fans having thrown handcuffs and small fire extinguishers into the ring. The crowd boos wildly as Requiem directs the Highwayman and Rogers to handcuff... to handcuff Deathbringer to a ringrope... Deathbringer is helpless... the former IIWF Champion helpless as he is handcuffed and now blasted with a fire extinguisher! Highwayman spewing the extinguisher at the 'Bringer while Requiem and Rogers lay in boots at the exposed 'Bringer.... Gabrielle... reaches in from the outside -- and attempts to pull the mask from the dead man's face!  Genesis now trying to pull off the mask from the handcuffed, beaten, violated Deathbringer!] TD: Oh... this is just hideous.  This is disgusting -- no one could condone this kind of behavior.  Steve Roberts... sit down... sit down -- you are not going in that ring! SR: I've had enough of this crap, Dross.  Absolutely enough! [Dross restrains Roberts as the debris rains down in the ring -- and from the back... from the back runs Derek Mota!  Derek Mota, pulling the IV needle literally out of his arm as the crowd roars for the Canadian, Mota hitting the ring and suicidally attacking Scott Rogers... Rogers falling to the canvas!  Rogers falling to the canvas -- but then Mota is beaten down by the Highwayman, who again hits the Daylight Robbery... allowing Scott Rogers to pick Derek Mota up... Carry him to the midbuckle... And throw Derek Mota... into the aisle!  Huge Pop!] TD: Mota is thrown right at IIWF officials who were coming to the ring... Rogers knocks them all down like bowling pins!  Oh... Oh Derek Mota is badly hurt... and again he is being led away to the back... and what are they doing to the Deathbringer now?!  This is disgusting! [Genesis disconnects the 'Bringer, now not moving at all, from the ropes, dragging him out to the center of the ring, draping him near the steel steps.  From the crowd a can of spray paint is procured -- Requiem clearly loving the jeers of the fans as he sprays the steps with the words: "R.I.P. IIWF OLD GEN" Requiem laughs maniacally... as the 'Bringer continues to be battered... and now placed over the steel steps. The crowd again pops wildly...] TD: It's the Butcher!  Here comes Verhoeven! SR: Yeah!  Yeah! Welcome to the Slaughter... what the hell? TD: It's Annis!  Annis from the side!  Serge Annis just Pearl Harbored Otto Verhoeven! [Annis leaped from the side, nailing Verhoeven with a chair as he was running in the aisle.  Annis waffles Otto again with the chair... and again.  The crowd is shocked -- beyond shocked as Annis then sets the chair up... grabbing Otto by the throat...] TD: Chokeslam!  Chokeslam!  Otto Verhoeven has just been chokeslammed!  Over that chair!  Good God! [Annis picks Verhoeven up again, snarling at the unconscious Butcher... blood trickling from his forehead... and chokeslams him again over the chair!  Annis spits at "The Butcher"... and then begins to drag him out of view... as the crowd again... again wildly pops.] TD: It's Tiger Claw!  Here comes Tiger Claw! [Wearing streetclothes, Tiger Claw comes charging into the ring, attacking each man in succession -- sending Requiem, then Highwayman, then Rogers, down with big shots... the crowd roars for the three-time Intercontinental Champion... ...who is then grabbed from behind by Edmund Fitzgerald!  Fitzgerald was also hidden in the Genesis Generation... and puts Tiger Claw in a cross-face chicken wing that incapacitates the veteran, allowing Scott Rogers to blast him hard to the midsection... and Requiem to lift him... to lift him up into the air...] TD: Oh... we're going to see the Reqbreaker again... Requiem's going to drop Tiger Claw over that ringpost.... [Requiem drops Claw from a military press over the ringpost, his back crunching in a sickening sound... as Claw is then dumped atop the 'Bringer... Genesis stands triumphantly in the ring, each man laughing above the bodies of Claw and the Deathbringer -- Otto Verhoeven now out of view. Scott Rogers grabs a steel chair as Deathbringer and Tiger Claw are dragged to their feet.  Rogers hands the chair to Requiem, Requiem readying to waffle two of the hallmark veterans of the IIWF... two men standing completely helpless as... as... As the lights go out. The twenty thousand in the Coliseum scream... scream as the lights go out... And then scream even more loudly... maybe as loudly as they've ever screamed before as the lights go back on to reveal...] TD: IT'S DAN KAUFFMAN!  IT'S DAN KAUFFMAN! SR: Yes!  I mean... aw, screw it.  Kick their ass, Kauffman! [Kauffman has the steel chair... waffling... Highwayman... BOOM! Waffling Rogers... BOOM! Waffling Fitzgerald... BOOM! The crowd roars... the "Kauff - man! Kauff - man! Kauff - man!" chant deafening as the former Heavyweight Champion approaches Requiem, the World Champ backing away as Kauffman swings...] TD: Oh no!  Oh no!  It's Annis!  It's Serge Annis! [Annis clubs Kauffman over the back of the head with the chair which still sports the blood of the Butcher.  Kauffman drops like a shot, and Genesis surrounds the former champion, Requiem beating away at Kauffman savagely, stomping away as Kauffman lies helpless, Deathbringer and Claw only beginning to stir as Dan Kauffman gets beaten down by the World Champion Requiem... And... again... the lights go out. And again... the screams are heard. And -- this time, they are even louder as the lights return.] TD: IT'S JAMES!  CASEY JAMES IS IN THE RING! SR: And he's kicking ass, Dross!  Casey James is kicking ass! [James lays into each man with a big haymaker right hand -- Rogers, Fitz, Highwayman, Annis -- and readies for the champ himself, who blocks with the upraised steel chair... Requiem raises the chair over his head...] TD: And it's taken by Kauffman!  Kauffman rips the chair out of Requiem's hand! [Kauffman lays into Requiem with right hands... James lays into Requiem with right hands... Fitzgerald dives at Kauffman -- and is struck down by a Claw spinning heel kick... the momentum carrying Fitz out of the ring!  Pop! Kauffman sends right hands at Requiem... James sends right hands at Requiem... Highwayman and Rogers rise -- moving to attack James... ...But are hit with a cross-body block by the Deathbringer! Deathbringer nailing both men... then picking up the Highwayman.... Chokeslam! ...then the Deathbringer picks up Rogers.... Chokeslam! Rogers and Highwayman roll from the ring, Serge again setting himself on Deathbringer -- ] TD: Here comes the Butcher!  Here comes the Butcher! [Verhoeven sprints from the aisle, diving into the ring and assaulting Annis with an unbelievably fast flurry of right hands, driving Serge from the ring... Kauffman and James now deliver simultaneous right hands... knocking Requiem over the top rope -- and out to the floor!  Big, Big POP! Genesis stands together, Requiem pointing up at Verhoeven... and then Genesis, being pelted with debris... and the enormous taunts of the crowd... "Old Gen! Old Gen! Old Gen!" turns and leaves the arena. Claw, Otto, Deathbringer, James, and Dan Kauffman all stand in the ring.  Claw claps his hands, pointing out to the crowd, the roar of "Old Gen! Old Gen! Old Gen" shaking the very foundations of the IIWF Coliseum as Kauffman shakes hands with Tiger Claw!  And then Otto Verhoeven! And then Deathbringer! Kauffman and James stand face to face... Kauffman extending a hand toward the man who took his IIWF title away from him back in February... Dan Kauffman extending a hand to Casey "Blackheart" James...] TD: And he accepts!  James accepts!  James shakes Kauffman's hand -- and shakes his head... Casey James almost can't believe it himself as all five of these men -- arguably five of the most important figures in the history of the IIWF... raise arms and accept the enormous roars of this capacity crowd!  What an anniversary, Steve Roberts. SR: I cannot... I cannot believe what I am seeing in this ring.  Dan Kauffman and Casey James.  Dan Kauffman and Otto Verhoeven.  Dan Kauffman and the Deathbringer.  Dan Kauffman and Tiger Claw... and listen to these people, Dross!  Listen to the people roar! TD: We are out of time... out of time... catch "Inside the IIWF" this Tuesday for all the updates. Folks, Midsummer Madness is just three weeks away! Three weeks away! I can not believe what I am seeing!  Our fiftieth IIWF Saturday Night! For "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, this is Tim Dross, saying: so long, everybody! [The five Old Generation members stand in the ring, the "Old Gen! Old Gen!" chants ringing in the arena as the shot fades.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+