________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| |\ /| /\ |\ | | /\ \ / | || | \ v v / | __| | v |/ \| \| __| /__\ \/ |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| | |\ /| |/ |/ \/ | | \/ | |\_// /\ |\ /| |__ | / __ /__ | v | | | / \ . |\ | / \ / \ | | | | \__ | | \| | __ \__ August 18 1997 | | | | \ | | | \__| \ ....................|..v_____/.|.|..|____|____/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Requiem ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF Interview Area, literally mere minutes after IIWF Saturday Night went off the air. The lights dim and flicker as Gabrielle and Requiem enter. Requiem is his usual serene self, but Gabrielle seems furious!] G: I cannot believe this [BEEP]! Dan [BEEP]in' Kauffman! What the hell is that tired pissant doing back in IIWF? Oh, sure, Casey James can't be bothered to turn up for the match but he's OK when all of Genesis are too tired to put up much of a fight! This is bogus! This is complete bullsh... RQ: [interrupting] Enough, little sister! [The camera focuses on Requiem, as his eyes narrow and a smile breaks out across his face. An evil smile, but a smile nonetheless, as Requiem seems almost... jovial.] RQ: Dan Kauffman. Casey James. Tiger Claw. Otto Verhoeven, and last but by no means least, Deathbringer himself.     Good.     It's about time we got some competition around here.     Oh, dear, Gabrielle, it's looking like our little 'reign of terror' is coming to an end. The five men in the white stetsons are riding into town and coming to get the Genesis Gang.     Maybe. Maybe not.     You took us by surprise tonight, I'll give you that. You almost ruined our little fiftieth edition party, but we had fun anyway. Oh, and Petrow? You lovably loony little "IIWF Franchise," you... don't you fret, you _will_ get the beating your position deserves. But why don't you team up with the Casey James Gang? You could call yourselves "The Six Superstars"! [Requiem's joviality seems to disappear as he stares even deeper into the camera, whipping off his sunglasses and allowing his white eyes to pierce deeply into the souls of the viewers at home] RQ: Icehawk, where were you tonight? Get with the program, kid. Now we've got some real opposition we can't afford anyone who gives less than 100%!        Welcome back to the IIWF, Kauffman, it won't be for long. And as for     Casey James and you others...     Prepare for the fight of your lives, fellows. The Angel of Destruction is back at _full_ intensity! Don't believe me? See if I give a damn. G: And _that_, boys, is the Gospel according to Requiem! [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Sychosys" Joe Petrow ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ["Sychosys" Joe Petrow and "Majestic" Maurice McArthur stand backstage in front of the IIWF backdrop.  Triple M stands a step behind Petrow, wearing dark sunglasses and a black t-shirt with the "Team Sychosys" insignia, while Petrow wears a leather jacket, the redness clearly visable in his bare eyes, and the IIWF United States tag team gold clearly glistening on his shoulder, as he speaks in confident tone:] JP: Y'know, me and the big guy here, we were sitting backstage, eating     some popcorn, and watching that big shabang that just happened out     there.  You got Deathbringer, the Synidcate, Derek Mota, and hell,     even Dan Kauffman, working their asses off to try and hold Genesis     at bay.  In the midst of this incredible struggle, what seems to     have been lost in all this, is that Joe Petrow did the same thing     earlier in the evening, with only $50 and a few connections on the     inside!  [3M smiles]  And just like what just happened out there,     it was a damn embarassment!     I apologize to the Sychopaths for what happened, and hell, I might     even apologize to that fop Rogers, since his mind seemed to be in     the right place, if not his abilitities.  We'll do it again right     someday.  But my point is proved.  Genesis, you are as insignificant     as those roaches I dragged to the ring with me!  That alone isn't     worthy of my attention, but what I cannot forgive, is that you've     taken the once prestigious IIWF World's title, and brought it down to your level of of mediocrity!     Well, there are three factions here in the IIWF.  Everyone knows     about the Old Genesis, and the New Genesis.  But save for my     Sychopaths, everyone seems to be overlooking the third. [Joe points     to himself] Me.  And while rivers of blood spill for no good     reason, Third Impact will begin.  I promise the fans and the Holy     Spirit of the IIWF itself, that the Franchise of the IIWF will     bring respectability back to the IIWF World's Heavyweight title.  [Joe smiles] And I'm so good, that I don't even necessarily have to win it myself to do that! [Joe's smile lingers for a second, then abruptly disappears.  He then turns around, sheds his jacket, and turns back around to reveal his own black Team Sychosys t-shirt, and matching sunglasses.  Triple M now steps to the forefront, and one can almost sense a complete change in Petrow's demeanor as he continues.] JP: Violence Unlimited, someone FINALLY steps up to the plate for a     beating! 3M: It's about time, people were starting to forget who rules the tag     ranks around here!  You guys have had fun with the rest of the league, now you meet the best.  You geeks better get ready for tag wrestling 21st century style, or you'll be done before you ever know what the hell happened! JP: We're coming to find the limit to your violence. [Both men walk of camera.  Fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Serge Annis ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: IIWF locker room after IIWF: Saturday Night's 50th show. The lighting is dull, but the camera manages to adjust as best it can. There is a row of lockers on the wall in front of the camera, as well as a few benches on the floor. The latest issue of IIWF Magazine with Requiem and Genesis is lying on a bench, allong with a towel, Zippo metal lighter and a black "GENESIS" t-shirt. A loud "BANG" is heard, and repeated twice, making it, "BANG BANG!" The "Epitome of Evil" Serge Annis storms into the camera's view and he kicks the lockers once more for one last "BANG!" Annis does not look happy, although he never does. However, now Serge looks angrier than usual which still says a lot.] SA: What the Hell was that? This little clique of IIWF Oldies. Dead Man,    Butcher, Claw, James and [bleep]ing Dan Kauffman?! What the Hell was that? Dead Man, Genesis has laid you out more times than anyone else in this sport, and you still come back for more. I can respect that, some people have an affinity for pain, but Deathbringer, you my good ol' buddy are in some serious trouble now. You got laid out cold earlier tonight, and that will repeat itself, until you learn your place. [Annis kicks the lockers for a fourth time, provided he didn't do it whilst the cameras was off.] SA: And now we have Dan Kauffman returning to his roots here in IIWF. The no-good sell out decides to have another go around here. I think I'm going to have to yell at Chris Quigley, because he didn't do his job of retiring you! Kauffman, blast from the past, but you are history. Look at what has happened since you left. Look what has become of Serge Annis now. I came into IIWF for the sole purpose of finding you... and now I am so above that! I am in the most ellite group of wrestlers in IIWF. Kauffman, I hope you planned your return to be a short one, because that is exactly what it's going to be at the hands of Genesis. And lastly, earlier tonight I laid out Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven. Next Saturday night, I get the dubious distinction of wrestling the German Juggernaut, or whatever he is called. FINE BY ME. If you plan on using me as a stepping stone on your path to Requiem, FORGET IT! I'm going to give you the hardest match you'll ever come by. Verhoeven, I know the odds of my victory are slim when you have people like Deathbringer and Kauffman in the back, but I shall see to it that you are punished. I will see to it that you are in pain, and I will see to it that if you make it past me... you won't be in any condition for Requiem. Butcher, I am promising you... you will see something different from Serge Annis on Saturday night. It's a promise!     Oh, and where the Hell were you tonight, Icehawk? What kind of a Genesis member are you? We were out there defending each other's backs, and you couldn't bother to show up. Makes me sick really... Icehawk, I think it's high time you ask yourself, just where do you stand? And Butcher, I'm promising a suprise for you Saturday night... you better be prepared to accept it. [Fade to black as Annis kicks the locker again.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Derek Mota ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [A loud series of clamouring noises opens up the interview, as a number of security guards are carrying Derek Mota to an ambulance just outside the arena.  The Monday Musings cameramen see the commotion and follow the scene to the ambulance.] DM: You idiot!  I shoulda been wrestling tonight!  I shoulda been the one that got the match against Requiem! SG: Sir, you are in no shape to wrestle right now.  We have been advised by Mr. Spreadbury that we are to accompany you right back to the hospital and to ensure that you stay there until you are 100%. DM: I don't need to be 100% to take on those losers!  Just gimme a good baseball bat... [The door to the ambulance opens up and two EMTs emerge.  The security guards force Mota into the ambulance, where he is immediately subject to a number of tests.] EMT: Do you know WHAT THE HELL you were risking tonight?  Without the proper recovery, that Daylight Robbery could've ended your life, not just your career! DM: I don't care what kinda stories you're makin' up here, boy, but my career ain't endin' cause of some lousy stinkin' cartoon boy.  I'm not stupid, kid, I know when I'm bein' forced out!  EMT: I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Mota, all I know is that if you escape again, my job is on the line.  [The EMT quickly shoves a needle into the arm of Derek Mota.  Mota looks angry at first, but his eyelids quickly become heavy, and he starts fading into unconsciousness.] EMT: You've got a title match on Saturday, Mr. Mota.  I just hope that tonight's actions don't ruin it all for you... [Fade out as the ambulance begins to drive back to the hospital.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Cold Spell ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF interview set. Edmund Fitzgerald comes onto the set alone.] EF: People talk a lot about how Genesis doesn't respect the past, and how we don't care about history. But that's not the case at all. How could anyone who knows anything about this sport not respect men like Casey James, Deathbringer, Dan Kauffman, Tiger Claw and Otto Verhoeven? Without them, there wouldn't be an IIWF. But there is a large difference between respect and fear. Casey, you and I have already locked horns once, and you are by far the toughest opponent I have ever faced. But you know as well as I do that we were evenly-matched that day, and with a little luck, I could have walked out of that arena with your IIWF and NLWP world titles. Now you are supposed to be a tag-team wrestler, right? Fine. You and Tiger Claw sign the contract, and we will gladly put our belts up against you. You gave me a shot, I'll give you one. And I've heard Requiem and Serge asking where Icehawk was tonight, and questioning his abilities as a member of Genesis. Yeah, he should have been here, but give the kid a break. He still thinks he's Prince Valiant, and that pleasing the fans is the only reason we do this. He'll learn soon what the rest of us veterans learned years ago. All that matters is who has the gold belts. [Fitz starts to walk off the set, then pauses and looks into the camera.] Oh, one more thing. Comedy and Tragedy - we still remember. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Billy Shakespeare staggers backstage leaning on the shoulder of two medical aides. Billy hair is matted with sweat, his face a mask of blood. The Med-Techs help him down, he winces in a sharp shock of pain, but doesn't cry out.] BS: [muttering to himself]  Don't want to... fight Tonnage... again.  [Looks to the camera, his voice a harsh rasp]   Jericho... Tonnage... Rogers... Highwayman.   I don't have the strength right now to waste words on your behalfs.   But that time will come.  "Dogs of war", I think not.  More like sons of bitches. Ronnie Paris, it seems that the worm has turned.  I like neither you nor your methods.  You can't face me fair not beat me the same way.     [He coughs, a thin trickle of bloody foam appearing on his lips.]     Damn!  Not the ribs again.   While I still have breath to speak, I     want to say than you to the IIWF fans, the greatest in the world.     I did this for you.  To bring you the greatest show in wrestling, I     sacrifice my body.   To... give you... what you..... [His words fade out as he lapses into unconsciousness.  The Med-techs rush in, camera fades.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Ronnie Paris ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [A visibly shaken Ronnie Paris is nervously tapping one foot as he waits for his cue to begin. Fortunately for him, none of the techincal staff can be heard or seen working on equipment this week. Finally, he begins to speak.] RP: You know, some things just really shock me sometimes. I told you that Shakespeare was a master of psychology, and tonight he proved that. I mean, just by wrestling three guys in a row, suddenly everyone think's he's Superman or something! Well, Shakes, if you're Superman then I must have a big batch of kryptonite running through my viens, because tonight I beat your [BLEEP] like I owned it! And still, somehow, the Portland wrestling fans in all their wisdom decide you, a man who put my wife in the hospital, a man who's hit me with chairs, ring bells, thrown me into steps and railings, started me fighting with a good friend, a man who can't even figure out what his god damn name is, is a better role model than me?     Let me tell you something, to those of you who booed me. I bust my butt every week to try and be a role model for you and your kids. I know a lot of people look up to us wrestlers, so I try to show the proper respect back to the fans. But don't you think if someone had attacked you, your wife, and your best friend, you might be a little pissed off at them? Maybe you'd be a little angry, and maybe if you had a chance to get your hands on him you might go a little overboard? Now, if you wanna cheer Little Willie again next week, that's fine. It just means two things: one, you'll be cheering for the loser, because this time he'll have no excuses when I tie him into knots the Boy Scouts couldn't undo! Two, it shows you have no concept of what a real role model is. Come on, IIWF fans, I know you're great, intelligent wrestling fans, and you won't swallow all this tripe Dross is trying to shove at you. Prove it to me. Boo the right guy next time. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Deathbringer ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF interview area. Deathbringer is still wearing his ring attire as he walks into the scene. The camera picks up his piercing red eyes, which are shining brightly through the mask, as the Dark Destroyer begins to speak in his low, growling voice:] DB: What a night it has been... Mankind will remember it for a long time, as it was the night on which the forces of the Old Generation finally found together to battle the demon they call Genesis... Yes, tonight an alliance was formed, an alliance, consisting of five former champions and not just any champions, but most certainly the five greatest champions the IIWF has ever seen... Dan Kauffman, Otto Verhoeven, Casey James and Tiger Claw... All of us have met in the squared circle at some point... All of us had our rivalries with each other... But that belongs to the past... From now on five will stand as one as we march into the war against Genesis... And from now on I will watch your backs, my mortal friends... Yes, you have teamed up with the Reaper, and you can expect him to throw all his power into the battles that lie ahead now... Together we shall prevail... And that is a promise... [Deathbringer steps closer towards the camera, which at the time closes in to his eyes. Deathbringer's voice now gets louder as he speaks on] DB: Requiem... I had you beat already... You were not able of keeping me down... You had nothing in your arsenal that could stop me in my tracks... Yes, you are truly the most undeserving champion this league has ever seen... But your time is over now, Requiem... Enjoy your last days on this earth... and PREPARE TO MEET YOUR MAKER! [Deathbringer reaches for the camera and pushes it down. Fade as his demonic laughter is heard.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Phoenix ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The Phoenix stands in the IIWF interview area.] TP: Old Gen vs. New Gen?  It seems that I am caught in the middle of that which was and that which never should have been.  Genesis has marked me as a traitor and the veterans mark me as a newcomer.  Very well, let the battle rage and I shall step aside.     For now, I must walk another path of enlightenment.  Dexter St. Croix, you are a hungry young wrestler seeking to make your mark in the IIWF and your skills are impressive, but those skills will never overcome the fire which burns inside The Phoenix.  Wednesday night, Dexter, I will send a message that The Phoenix is not to be underestimated. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Dexter St. Croix ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene is Miami Beach, early morning. The sun is peaking over the Atlantic, and the beach is serene and calm, free of sunbathers, umbrellas, and frisbee-chasing canines. The camera pans to a stretch of asphalt that runs parallel to the beach, and we can see the shape of a man, in the distance, fastly approaching the camera. As the man comes into plain sight, we see he is Dexter St. Croix, dressed in black sweat pants, a white Ziggy Marley and the Melodymakers concert t-shirt, and white running shoes. A baseball cap is turned backwards over his short dreads. He approaches the camera and stops jogging. He is slightly winded as he addresses the camera...] DSC: Phoenix. Dey say you rose from da ashes to live again, mon. I can dig that. But ol' Dex, ya see, he rose from some ashes of him own, big mon. An' while I can respect what ya done 'ere in da past, Dexter St. Croix is da future of da IIWF, and you? Well, mon, you can take your place in the 'istory books while ol' Dex takes 'is place in da limelight. Peace. [With that, Dex picks up the pace again jogs down the blacktop, away from the camera, as the scene fades to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Kevin "the Cavalier" Christiansen ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene fades in to the interview area after Saturday night. Kevin "The Cavalier" Christiansen storms onto the set, walks through, and continues right off the other side of the set.] Cameraman: Mr. Christiansen! Don't you have anythi... KC: [interrupting] No. No, I have nothing to say to thee at this time. Now begone! [Christiansen shoves the over-inquisitive cameraman out of the way and leaves the area. Fade to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Timothy N. Turner ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Timothy N. Turner is in the interview area wearing a heavy Burberry's overcoat, dark sunglasses, and a dark fedora with the brim pulled low. The glasses can't quite cover the swelling on one side of his face.] TNT: People keep asking me questions. They keep asking me if I'm going to go after Christiansen for what he did to my face. Why should I? Sure he got in a lucky shot and gave me a bit of a shiner but a week from now all the swelling will be gone and he'll still be a no-talent hack who isn't worthy to be my servant. Secondly, people keep asking me if Duncan Macbeth and I are forming a new stable. The answer to that is simple. Duncan and I are friends. Sure, we could team up and beat the current tag champs without breaking a sweat, but we both have different tasks ahead of us now. Starting with that Insipid Ryan Howard. Duncan will beat that little monster within an inch of his life. Lastly, people want to know why I cheat when I have such obvious talent. The answer to that is because I enjoy it. Come on, everyone knows that I could beat the Cavalier without resorting to such tactics, but isn't it fun watching him getting laid out by that champagne bottle?  This brings me to this Saturday. I was planning to take it easy this week after polishing off Christiansen. Instead they put me in a match with Chris Quigley. I can't say that I like Quigley, but I do respect him. Quigley is just what I wanted. I know that I am the best wrestler in the world today but that means nothing in the IIWF until I beat the top stars here. This Saturday I will take on Chris Quigley, and beat him, without using any under-handed means. I will show the IIWF and the world that I am what I say I am... the best. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "The Intrepid" Ryan Howard ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene opens upon the Monday Night Musings interview area, with "The Intrepid" Ryan Howard pacing about, as if something was terribly clogging his thoughts. Dressed neatly in a pair of Tommy Hilfiger khakis and a Hugo Boss golf shirt, he turns to the camera, a delicate, extremely wry grin crossing his lips.] RH: First off, Turner.. don't _ever_ grub with one'a my matches again, or else you'll be plagued throughout your entire career, personally, by moi. If you want a shot at me, without sending one of your little prick boyfriends to do the job, just sign on the dotted line and I'll be happy to prove my ability. Secondly, Duncan Macbeth. Brah, you sure can do well when your surrogate father comes out to stroke you into a good mood, but just remember, next time, I'll fix it so he won't be there. [Turning, he paces a bit more, his eyes apparently cast downward as if avoiding the camera for a few short moments.] RH: Kevin Christiansen.. well, I ain't been 'round here too long, but it seems dat you and Turner don't really get along too well. I'd like to... [he sneers at the word]... thhhhhank you... for coming and trying to shut him up for me. But I still want a rematch with you, without TNT or whatever explosive device he wants to be known as doesn't interfere. Later. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Machines ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene is backstage of the IIWF Colosseum, moments after the Machines-LFD brawl.  A closed door marked MEDICAL OFFICE is on the far wall, and a battered Simon O'Neal paces in front of it.] SO: LFD...  We beat you, again.  Just like last time.  And you jumped us after the match.  [Shrugs]  Big deal.  I've jumped dozens of people after a match.  But you threw fire in my partner's face.  The doctors are working on him right now.  I don't know the prognosis yet.  They threw me out -- some "non-essential personnel" nonsense.  You'd better pray that he's all right.  We have to face a real team in Pain Inc. on Wednesday, and shouldn't even have to bother with you... It's pretty ironic.  You may have injured the one man that could have convinced me not to end your careers.  Think about that after I'm finished. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Licensed for Devastation ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Reggie Starr and Jonathan Chaos are seen walking along a dark street, late at night.  You can almost taste the mist as they slowly make their strides.  Starr, in his ruffian get-up, appears ominously, as does Chaos, shirtless.] JC: Reggie... man... we blew it.  We can't win a damn match in this backwards-[BLEEP]ed fed.  We should just get the hell out of dodge, yo. RG: Jon, we ain't steppin' out just yet.  There's business to take care of... starting this Wednesday with the Prophets of Rage. JC: If we can't beat the god damned Machines, how do we stand an icicle's chance in hell of beatin' the Prophets?! RS: Damnit, Jon, who's the best team in the IIWF? JC: Us... RS: Why the hell can't we win? [Chaos shrugs.] RS: Yeah, I don't know either.  Bottom line, we're gonna figure it out, this Wednesday... right? JC: Right. RS: Rages... be in for a _shock_. JC: In more ways than one. [Fade to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Dan Kauffman ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The screen is black...] DK: Some have called me "The Man." [Flashes of various clips of Dan Kauffman appearing from behind the curtains of the various entranceways he has emerged from in his career. His entrances at almost every IIWF PPV are shown, and the last image is a close up of Dan Kauffman in dead concentration that was caught on camera. Then, blackness, and all is still...] DK: Some label me "The Myth." [Flashes start to flick by again, this time of moves performed. An Indian Deathlock at center ring, A flying forearm from the top ropes, a patented spinning leg lariat, a thunderous Doctor Bomb, and finally, three of Kauffman's trademark moves... A "Dragon" Drop that knocks out an opponent, a "Powerplant" Spinebuster that ends another match, and last, an amazing "Light's Out" Flipping Clothesline from the top of a steel cage. Then, blackness. All is still.] DK: And some have said I'm "The Legend." [Flashes of staredowns. Serge Annis. Mark Bagwell. Marcus Renge. Frank Austin. Hakiro Matsuoko. Mr. Robinson. Cadaver. J.W. Hardin. Brad Kinder. Brian Knight. Joe Petrow. Chris Quigley. Billy Shakespeare. Otto Verhoeven. Deathbringer. Then, blackness. All is still...] DK: But in all, seven letters describe my style, my thoughts, and my ways. It only takes seven. [Clip of a perfectly executed tilt-a-whirl backbreaker...] DK: _____ R _____ [Clip of a fistfight with Casey James...] DK: _____ E _____ [Clip of Deathbringer and Dan Kauffman standing eye to eye...] DK: _____ S _____ [Clip of Kauffman flying 50 feet off a steel catwalk just three weeks ago at an MLWO event...] DK: _____ P _____ [Clip of Kauffman and Quigley, bloodied and bruised, giving it their all at center ring...] DK: _____ E _____ [Clip of Kauffman in the triangle match to determine the first ever IIWF World Champion, locked up with J.W. Hardin.] DK: _____ C _____ [And a clip of Kauffman holding the IIWF World Championship high with pride and honor and...] DK: _____ T _____. [Blackness. All is still, but a small dot appears at the center of the screen. The dot grows bigger, then individual dots appear to seperate, then lines appear from the dots, and eventually, seven distinct symbols... letters... appear side by side, spelling out... "RESPECT." And then, the screen cuts to a live shot, as Dan Kauffman looks in, his blond hair cut close, his blue eyes steady and focused...] DK: Saturday Night, one man puts the entire wrestling world in its     place. I have something to say. At times it will be emotional. At     times it will be comical. At times it will be lighthearted. And at     times it will be serious. I ask everyone to listen. It's time someone says what needs to be said, and that... [Kauffman pauses, almost turns away, but then steadies himself...] DK: That... will be what I do. [Kauffman continues to look in as the screen fades... slowly, but surely... into oblivion.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+