[The intro of "Punishments" by Biohazard throbs as action photos of each of the members of Genesis glide by on the screen. They are followed by action shots of Deathbringer, Otto Verhoeven, Tiger Claw, Casey James, and Dan Kauffman. The screen brightens until it is completely white, and then fades into the brawl at the end of last Saturday night's card. The "old gen" members beating on Genesis. The music increases in intensity, as does the action. Suddenly, the screen explodes into a new and not-so familiar logo...] C + O + U + N + T + D + O + W + N T + O ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/..............\........|...|.......|....| *** WITH BRIAN LAU AND LARRY MORTON *** *** AUGUST 22, 1997 *** [A wide camera shot pans about the IIWF studios where Countdown is shot each and every week. Well, at least each week that the IIWF is in Portland, Oregon, which, coincidentally, this week it is. As a result, Brian Lau and Larry Morton sit at the familiar desk with the ring ropes waiting for the show to begin. Almost as if the show knew that the two commentators were waiting for it to begin, it begins.] LM: Welcome once again, ladies and gentlemen, to another edition of Countdown to Saturday Night! As is the norm for the past two months or so, I am joined by co-host and... Manager extraordinaire? BL: Thank you, Larry. I never knew you thought so highly of me. LM: Wait a minute... That's your handwriting on that cue card. BL: I don't know what you're talking about... Cue cards? You use cue cards? And you admit to it? LM: There's nothing wrong with a good cue card... So, Brian... Planning on going back to the old job, are we? BL: I never said that... You can't deny that while I was managing the Syndicate, I was the best manager on the face of the planet. Look at the Syndicate now... Teaming up with Dan Kauffman. I'm disappointed, guys. LM: I think that for once, your buddies are actually doing some good in the IIWF. BL: Don't say that. Don't ever say that unless you intend to rip the heart from my chest. I just don't get it, you know? I mean... The history... Claw and Kauffman... Joe Latta... _Casey_James_ and Kauffman... Casey beating up on Latta. Come on, what happened? How can a guy named "Blackheart" suddenly start doing good? It's like a guy from Death Valley who embodies evil in every form suddenly getting cheered... LM: Well, I can't say that I have any idea where the Death Valley thing came from, but I have to say that I'm glad that the Syndicate seems to have put old rivalries behind them to team up with former enemies to overcome a common evil. BL: Oh, sure... But Kauffman? I mean, the guy is so... I don't know... He's a unit. And he's a tech head. I give it about two weeks before one of the guys involved caves his head in. LM: I don't see why... BL: Oh, I can... I can just see a training session... Kauffman running around, yelling "No, no, you have to bend your leg like _this_ over your head when executing the Paka-laka-fuki-waki Armdrag!" or "Wait a second, you can't do that move! That's _my_ over-the-top under-the-butt Backbreaker!" LM: He's not like that... BL: Oh no? And where is this experience you speak from that rivals mine? Huh? LM: Well, I happen to... BL: Yeah, I didn't think so. Just keep it shut, Morton. LM: [sighs] Well, folks, while I'm keeping it shut, why don't we take a look at the results of the War Room this past Wednesday? Lots of action went down, and we'll discuss it all, but first, we'll run through the results... [Pro-Pain's "One Man Army" plays as the closing moments of each match are shown with the results superimposed over them.] ======================================================================== ----------------------WEDNESDAY-WAR-ROOM-RECAP-------------------------- ======================================================================== Results from Wednesday War Room - August 20, 1997 1. Ronnie Paris def. "Nifty" Ned Norton (via Pinfall) 2. Serge Annis def. Rasputin (via Pinfall) 3. Sebastian Jericho def. Scott "The Whine" Bloom (via Pinfall) 4. The Machines def. Pain Inc. (via Pinfall) 5. Hollywood Bloods def. The Equalizers (via Pinfall) 6. Team Sychosys def. Violence Unlimited (via Pinfall) 7. Licensed for Devastation def. Prophets of Rage (via Pinfall) 8. Dexter St. Croix def. The Phoenix (via Pinfall) ======================================================================== LM: A whole load of pinfall victories this Wednesday. BL: And a whole lot of mentioning Kauffman from Becky. LM: She seems to be a little shocked by the whole thing. BL: A lot of people must have been shocked. There were quite a few upsets on this card. LM: That's right... The Machines scored a win over Pain Incorporated, a team that for the longest time has been dominant in the IIWF... Until you dumped them, Brian. BL: Oh, no... Don't blame their performance on me. LM: I wasn't... Also, Team Sychosys defeated Violence Unlimited. I was surprised by this one. BL: I'm not. I never thought Violence Unlimited were too smart since they badmouthed me in their debut interview. LM: Okay, then... Also, newcomer Dexter St. Croix defeated The Phoenix with his natty dread powerslam. BL: We're not going to have to hear this New Generation crap all over again, just with an accent this time, are we? LM: I hope not. This generation battle is already tearing the IIWF apart. BL: And not good tearing apart, either... I mean, there's good tearing apart and bad tearing apart, you know? LM: And the good style is... BL: The way I used to do it. LM: Of course... Why did I even have to ask? BL: Because you're clueless, Larry. LM: Of course I am... Folks, we've got more action coming up this Saturday Night with yet another spectacular IIWF card. Let's take a look at that puppy, match by match... BL: Puppy? ======================================================================== ---------------------IIWF-SATURDAY-NIGHT-PREVIEW------------------------ ======================================================================== ----------------------------- Sebastian Jericho vs. Tonnage ----------------------------- LM: A war of words has been raging between these two men for a few weeks now. Tomorrow night, we'll see them go at it, face to face. BL: That's sick. LM: What? BL: Go at it face to face? I thought this was a family show. LM: What? They'll face each other in the ring... Face to face... They'll go at it... Fight, you know? BL: Oh, _that's_ what you meant. Never mind. LM: Whatever. Fans, unfortunately we were unable to get comments from either man... BL: Which is surprising considering Tonnage hasn't been able to shut up since the Reagan administration... LM: That's a long time. BL: That was my point. LM: Well, hopefully, the action will speak louder than the lack of words tomorrow night in the IIWF Coliseum! --------------------------------------------- Duncan Macbeth vs. "The Intrepid" Ryan Howard --------------------------------------------- LM: Part two... BL: Don't turn this into one of those "Someone vs. Someone Else IV" titles... I hate that... LM: What? Why? BL: Because it's common for wrestlers to face each other more than once, so why bother? LM: Because it sounds neat. BL: No, actually it doesn't. I thought it was silly in boxing, and I think it's silly in wrestling. LM: Well, that's your opinion. BL: Which makes it fact. Case closed. LM: [rolls eyes] Folks, we'll hear from Duncan Macbeth later on in the hour when we get comments from Timothy Turner. Those two have been spending a lot of time together, Brian. BL: Yes, Larry... That's what friends tend to do. I understand why you'd be oblivious to that, seeing as how you have no friends... LM: Well, what about... BL: Fantasy flings with Chuck Norris don't count. LM: Oh... Okay, then. --------------------------------------- IIWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: Cold Spell [c] vs. Harlequins --------------------------------------- LM: The tag titles are up for grabs as one Genesis championship unit, Cold Spell, defend the titles against the wacky Harlequins... BL: You're a real championship unit, Larry. LM: You think so? BL: Yes, and a hurting one to boot. LM: I have a feeling that you use the word "unit" differently than most other people... BL: Depends... LM: Anyway, folks, lately we've been taking a look at the life story of the Harlequins. Tim Dross comes to us with another installment after much digging through old archives. We hope you enjoy the Harlequin story, Part III. BL: That would be like Harlequins vs. The World III, right? LM: Stop that... [The scene shows a man in a blue mask powerslamming a wrestler. Tim Dross is heard in the voiceover.] TD: In the 1970's one man easily captivated the attention of the wrestling world. [Another clip shows the man holding a belt up while many other "people" dressed in gray bodysuits and wearing expressionless masks surround him.] TD: With his army of "mindless puppets" Peter Quinn a.k.a The Puppet Master brawled and cheated his way to victory time and time again. But though he had the undying loyalty of his "puppets" there was one man he could not seem to sway to his favor. ["#1 Crush" by Garbage plays as a clip of Tragedy and Comedy heading to the ring plays.] TD: Last time, we talked about how the Puppet Master's oldest son, Travis, left home in disgust over his brother's hospitalization. Tonight, we uncover the events that would turn Travis Quinn into the leader of the Harlequins. [A clip plays showing Travis Quinn, dressed in the uniform of the United States Olympic wrestling team taking down a Russian opponent.] TD: Travis Quinn's success in amateur wrestling hardly went unnoticed. Quinn was picked to compete on the U.S. Olympic Wrestling team at the 1992 Summer Olympics in Barcelona. It was an opportunity that made everyone in his family proud of him. But that event almost spelled the end of his wrestling career. After the Olympics, Travis Quinn decided that he had enough of the sport and was looking to take a new path for his life. He went for almost a year, forgoing his scholarship and working two jobs to put himself through school. But he found out that leaving the sport is the hardest thing a man can do. [Cut to Tim Dross interviewing Tragedy.] HT: Wrestling is unlike any sport. It has this effect on you. It gets under your skin and into your blood. It becomes your lifeline. If I wasn't wrestling, I was watching it or thinking it. If you really deserve to be a wrestler, if you are really cut out for it, you can never walk away. It's like all those legends that still wrestle into their 50's. They're not trying to hog the spotlight like everyone thinks. It's that they just can't stop what they're doing. [Cut to a scene of Travis Quinn in a professional wrestling ring facing some no-name.] TD: So Travis Quinn returned to wrestling, this time as a professional. Though he worked well with the promoters that paid his wages, he consistently refused to adopt his father's gimmick. [Back to the interview.] HT: You know, they wanted me to put on this mask and have all these people dress up like the puppets. Those puppets were more than just "mindless slaves" that interfered all the time. They were young men wanting to be wrestlers themselves. My father trained them in his "Workshop" and introduced them to the sport that way. Being the Puppet Master meant being a teacher and it wasn't something a rookie like me could have done. TD: I'm sure your relationship with your father also got in the way. HT: Yeah. I didn't want to do anything that would force us back together. I just wanted to do it myself. [More clips play of Quinn's first few matches.] TD: Unfortunately, the wrestling world was hot about gimmicks at the time. And for a man like Quinn with nothing special about him except his ability, work got short for him. But strangely enough, hope would come at a small bar on the far side of campus. [Pictures of Comedy and Melody, without makeup, flash by.] TD: Julie MacKenzie and Melody Austin were freshmen at U of I. One night, they decided to ditch one of Julie's ex-boyfriends by going to remote area of town frequented by Quinn. [Back to the interview area. Comedy is talking to Tim Dross.] HC: Mel and I were sitting at this table with our drinks and over by the bar I saw this guy at the end of the bar. He was kinda cute, except for this big scar on his face. And he looked so sad. I decided to go and talk to him. Well, he wasn't all that polite. I went, "Hi, I'm Julie" and he went, "Hello Julie, leave me alone." HM: I told her she was crazy for doing it. HC: Well, I knew this guy needed cheering up and I wasn't going to just leave him be. So I kept trying to talk with him and that's when Dirk came in. TD: Your ex-boyfriend. HC: He was such a creep. A big jock that thought he could have whatever he wanted, including me. He grabbed my arm and started to pull me away when this guy looked at him and said, "The lady and I were talking." Really cool in this Dirty Harry kinda way. Dirk started acting all tough and started shoving this guy. And that's when this guy who was a good eight inches shorter then Dirk beat the living hell out of him. TD: Right in the bar? HC: In about two minutes Dirk ran away crying. The guy stood up, adjusted his jacket and looked at me and said, "Hi Julie, I'm Travis." I fell in love with him immediately. [Pictures of Julie and Travis together are shown.] TD: The feeling was obviously mutual as the light hearted Julie and the dour Travis were a couple within weeks. But Travis' gimmick problems were growing until one day, they stumbled onto the answer. [Back to the interview area.] HM: Julie was playing with these porcelain masks Travis got her at this Renaissance festival. She was all giddy [looks at Comedy] as she usually is. So she puts the tragedy one on Travis, and puts the Comedy one on herself as I walked in the room. She looked at me and I just said, "You two look like a couple of Harlequins." The rest is history! [A clip titled "WFSW: Gold In the Cold '96" plays. "Black Moon" by Killing Joke plays over the arena. Harlequin Comedy pops her head out of the curtain. Then she walks out laughing, followed by Harlequin Tragedy. Both of the Harlequins wear two color outfits, with red on the left half and blue on the right. Their faces are painted the same way. They are also wearing red & blue leather jackets and white masks depicting comedy and tragedy respectively.] McNEIL: The following contest is scheduled for one fall... introducing first... accompanied by Harlequin Comedy... standing 5'10" and weighing in at 200 pounds... HARLEQUIN TRAGEDY. TD: History indeed. On January 29, 1996 World Fantasy Superstar Wrestling unveiled a new duo to the wrestling world. The Harlequins, Tragedy and Comedy. They immediately made an impact and Tragedy found himself in that night's battle royal to crown the first WFSW World Champion. No one could have believed what would happen next. [Cut back to WFSW footage.] RICKABY: That leaves three. Just think, two of these guys will be champions, one will not. JOHNSON: Give every man in the battle royal credit. They all put on quite a good show. RICKABY: Pitbull McGraw and Moo Kame going at it... collar and elbow tie-up... WHOA! Harlequin Tragedy just threw himself into both men and they both flew over the top rope! Tragedy wins! But what is Skidmore going to do about the US title? [The footage freezes.] TD: Travis Quinn, a.k.a. Tragedy won his very first professional wrestling title. With his girlfriend at his side things seemed like they couldn't get better, but they did. ["Mathematics of Chaos" plays as clips of Chaos flash by.] TD: In a desperate measure to bring his family back together, Peter Quinn took a gamble with his youngest boy's welfare and released Christopher Quinn into his brother's custody. Initially unstable, it soon became apparent that music had an effect of the young man. Soon, two became three as Christopher Quinn became Chaos. Not wanting to be left out, Julie's friend Melody also joined the fold as, appropriately enough, Melody, whose songs soothed the child-monster. But once again, Tragedy left the sport for four months for reasons unknown, until now. [Back to the interview area.] HT: I realized that my father had a reason for letting my brother out. And I also knew that I was holding this grudge for way too long. Something had to be done. So I took some time off to reconcile with my family. TD: And it was worth it. HT: I think I got to understand my father better. Why he did what he did. I missed out on so much all those years. I have two sisters, both five, that I never knew about until I came home. It was hardly a happily ever after story but things got better in so many ways. And I really learned that to me, my family was more important than anything. And that's what the Harlequins are, Tim. We are a family. Hurt one and the rest of us will be after you so quickly your head will swim. We care about each other and that's why we all work so well together. TD: So what's next for you? HT: Right now, I want the best for my "family". For my wife, my brother, my cousin and my friend. And I'll do whatever it takes to accomplish that. [Fade] LM: Wow. BL: Wow is right. Poster family for shock treatment. LM: They don't seem all that crazy... Just, I don't know... Very intense. BL: Yeah, whatever. Family history means nothing in the ring, though. Talent does. What I can say, though is that the Harlequins also have a huge amount of talent. They are unorthodox at times, but then can snap back into a technically sound game plan. They keep the opponents guessing. You'd be challenged to figure out what they're thinking at any given time. LM: So you pick them over Cold Spell? BL: Damn right. Cold Spell are so busy bickering lately... And I mean _real_ bickering... Not like the tough guy and the gay guy. A team that is not all together is no good. They make mistakes. The Harlequins are so cohesive it's almost scary. LM: It will definitely be interesting to see how this one unfolds. ---------------------------------------- IIWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: Dirt Dog Unique Allah [c] vs. Derek Mota ---------------------------------------- LM: This promises to be a great match. The champion, the unorthodox Dirt Dog Unique Allah, defends his title against the man dubbed the... No, this can't be right... BL: [looks at Larry's papers] No, that's right... The toughest little bastard of the IIWF. LM: Well, nonetheless, two great athletes should provide us with a classic title match. First off, let's hear from the champion, Dirt Dog Unique Allah... [Scene: Dirt Dog Unique Allah lies slumped on a table, arms and legs sprawled out. A bottle of tequila lies next to him, tipped on its side, the contents chugging out onto the floor. All around there is the noise of people partying, the heavy throb of bass and the flashing lights of a night club. A sign just above the bar reads Club Rage. The Dirt Dog looks the worst he's ever been, his shirt rumpled, half-open, the buttons misaligned with the button holes. He wears heavy workboots and a pair of long shorts. A fishnet stocking is knotted into a cap on his head. There is a small sheet of paper by his outflung hand. The camera focuses in on it. In sloppy handwriting the page reads: "Gotta talk about Derek Mota but that girl over there next to that pink walrus that hates me is about to lift up her skirt and show me a booty only Medusa can rival. I don't know why but I'm thinkin' bout fornikatin'(sp?) Aw, muhfuh a dictionary. Huh huh, I'd rather play Pictionary, a new gameshow debuting on the some muhfuhin' channel. Yeah, some punk muhfuh may have inroduced ass to the TV, but i bet he never dared say muhfuh, did he? No, I bet he didn't. One more glass to you Shakeemah. One more glass to beg you let's all get along. Sometimes I wonder why I didn't think of this before. Being champion is great. But when I got that firewater in me it is even really amazinger -- yeah what a zinger -- in the housing projects, you know, even the mice piss on me. Rather be pissed on than pissed off. Hey you ever watch a skin flick backwards? Damn, it looks like women be spittin' down a bruva's pistol. That'd be kind of ... what Alanis Morissette say? Idiotic? Naw, that's my opinion of her music. Mota, you're a muhfuh. I don't hold with no granola-eatin' West-coast livin' Canadian muhfuhs. Gimme a nuh like Tony starks, even though he ain't as much fun as me. Gy so muhfuh'in dark that he causes fuh'ing eclipses. And I ain't talkin' bout skin. Shadeism kills faster than cancer. Fabulous establishment. What the fuh? Oh yeah, my egg ain't edible. It's a red dot special. And it' part of me. I can't just give it up to somebody. I can't just let them grab my ish. I can't even get up off this damn stool. I got that firewater in me. You can't give a Cherokee no fire water. They start actin' all foolish. But I need it. Without me that world ain't fun no more. Hey, speakin' of fun, ever notice that Petrow seems to have his way in matches, but never wins a title. I think somebody been in the BIG backroom whisperin' in some muhfuhs ear. Have to say the same for that Genesis crew. I mean what the fuh? Ooops, it's something about Mota, he ain't no ragin' bull. Cute name. Derek. Sounds more like some wannabe scriptwriter trying to control me by computer. Soundbite, you were right. This is all a figment of somebody's imagination. I ain't nobody! I ain't even real. Oh wait, my mouth's full of vomit. I guess I is real. Oh this is the worst ish yet. Let me see something .... wyohd r ejskU EUGFUbk E[IESAK uf ej;N 3 W;wajG DJSbfufrd,e[ oe ec smK;JFUFHO 3xKVDKWEFE L'GRN k 'Fksdd hfdkh N,Mnl RFGN' ... damn, all that scribblin' and I didn't make no word. How 1000 monkeys gonna do it? Aw, spit, I's lower than a monkey? Not on your life, muhfuh! Here comes bubble-butt! CAn Rover sniff ya? Write something for the camera. 555-1234. Room 112. Aw, ai't that sweet -- BOOTY CALL!!! I don't believe Ive had the pleasure of wrestling anything so sweet. Mota, I'm gonna kiss you. No, you kiss me. I'll be your girlfriend if you give me 100 dollars. See, I'm just like your mama. Yeah, muhfuh, now where the hell is the bathroom tissue when you need it. Aw damn, my spleen! The green men is eatin' it! Aw damn!"] DDUA: Be gentle with me. [haunted whisper] The horror... oh, the horror. [Fade out] LM: Interesting... BL: I guess you could put it that way... LM: Now let's hear from the challenger, the heatseeker himself, Derek Mota. [The scene opens up in a totally sterile hallway, a janitor is mopping the floor, and he stops, wiping the sweat off his brow. A loud yell, sounding something like "Okay!" is heard in the background, and the janitor looks up from his work for a few seconds before sticking his mop back in the bucket for more. The camera continues down the hall, which we now know to be part of a hospital. The phone rings incessantly, and an attendant finally picks it up, saying "Portland General" before the camera continues yet again down the hallway, walking towards the source of agitation. Finally the cameraman opens the door to the hospital room, and we see Derek Mota sitting up in his bed, holding a doctor by the collar.] DM: What was that? I didn't hear you the first time, ya bimbo! Doc: Mr. Mota, there is no need to use such... agggggghhh [as Mota applies _just_ a little more pressure around his throat] ... okay, okay! I'll sign the release! You can fight your match tomorrow night! Just let me tell you that you're not going to be 100%, and your chances of aggravating your injury are much greater if you don't let it heal completely! DM: What the hell you talkin' about, boy? What injury? Doc: Well, there's a number of ... ggggaaaaarrrrrpppppphhhh ... [The doctor is obviously having a hard time breathing as Derek pulls him closer and closer to his face. Both men are almost nose to nose, with Mota burning a hole through him with his fury.] DM: There ain't no injuries, huh doc? I had a little headache after those clown boys bounced me, but I'm ok now, ain't I, doc? Doc: If you put ... it that ... way ... you're ... 100% ... [Mota simply releases the doctor, who almost falls to the ground. The man quickly shuffles out of the room, adjusting his collar. Mota steps out of bed, and quickly puts his leather jacket over his hospital garb. He turns around to the camera.] DM: Ok, maybe I ain't 100%. Maybe I'm just 99%. But I tell ya one thing, you may have shaken up my noggin', Genesis boys, but this thing [points to his head] is still workin' overtime. You ain't gonna leave me alone. And I know what the hell is going on. Randy, show the people those clips I told you about! [The cameraman rests the camera on the bed and turns on the TV. He pops in a tape and presses play. Inside the IIWF from two weeks ago begins to play.] TD: "I think this new found success has really gone to his head. The belts, the women, the incredible amount of money which Unique acquired as a result of his victory in that Champions Ladder Match. There has even been a report -- and this is totally unconfirmed, folks -- that Dirt Dog was seen in the company of a certain World Heavyweight Champion recently..." [The playback abruptly turns to snow, and is followed by a scene featuring Requiem from Countdown to Saturday Night.] [Sitting upon a comfortable swivel chair in the midst of this high tech is a white robed Requiem, a remote control in one hand and a cup of iced tea in the other. As the camera slowly moves around the circle, it can be seen that Requiem is gazing levelly at a bank of monitors showing IIWF superstars in action. On one screen, Casey James. On another, Deathbringer. A third screen shows Otto Verhoeven, a fourth, Dirt Dog Unique Allah.] [Cut back to the hospital room, where Randy the cameraman stops the playback and points the camera at Derek Mota once more.] DM: Why the obsession with Dirt Dog Unique Allah, Genesis? This your next double cross, boys? It might've worked with White Flight, it might've worked with the dead guy, but this time you've got me lookin' over yer shoulder. You so obsessed with takin' all the titles that you want to bring a drunk bum inta your group? Go right ahead boys, we know the deal's been made. But know that at the end of the night, the newest member of Genesis won't be the IIWF Cruiserweight Champion, he's just gonna be a drunk hobo. But then you wouldn't want him anymore, would you? Allah, I know you're easily manipulated. You want somethin' ta call your own. Well boy, you got Medusa, and you ain't gonna have her if you join Genesis. And boy, the only pickup game you'd be playin' with the Prophets would be after the Piledrive ya through the floor! Think about it boy ... What do you want? Who do ya trust more? Derek Rage ... or Scott Rogers? Shadoe Rage ... or Serge Annis? Medusa ... or Gabrielle? I don't think it's a tough choice to make, boy, I don't think it's a tough choice to make ... I got me one more thing ta say. It's about the newest clique in the IIWF. And the oldest one, at the same time. It's what they dubbed Old Gen. Boys, yer little country club don't impress me. I can just imagine the marketing boys upstairs thinkin' how smart they were by bookin' this old vs. new thing, but the fact is that it's already old news. Geezers, I was anti-Genesis before it was cool to be. You wanna jump on the bandwagon, go right ahead, but know that while you got the suits on your side, you're always gonna follow in the footsteps of the man who sets the trends. We all know that in an even fight, Genesis is toast. They can't handle themselves on their own, they got that pack mentality. So when you boys beat them, are they gonna remember that, or are they gonna remember that a few weeks before, ONE man took on Genesis ... week after week, alone ... one man against Genesis, took the punishment, but came back for more? One man. They're gonna remember the toughest bastard in the IIWF, the heatseeker himself, the man who won't stay down ... and tomorrow night, the new IIWF Cruiserweight Champ. Think about it... [As Derek walks out of the hospital room, the camera shot fades to black. Cut back to the studio.] LM: Mota is just plain intense. BL: That he is. He bounces back from anything. Drop him on his head, he gets back up. Throw him into a wall, he gets back up. Stomp on him for an hour, he gets back up saying "Please, sir, may I have another?" He'd better be careful, though. That can be dangerous. He might just end up annoying someone so much that they lay the big hurt on him. LM: What do you mean? BL: Well, let me tell you a story. Back when I was a youngster in school, there was this kid. Nobody liked him, he was small, not too bright, not too attractive... LM: That youngster was you, wasn't it? BL: No, you idiot. I used to kick his ass. But the thing is, when I smacked him, he laughed. I punched him, he laughed. I kicked him in the head, and he laughed. I put a choke on him, and he just wouldn't go out, laughing the whole time. So you know what I did? I whistled. LM: Whistled? BL: Yes. That summoned my gang of hired thugs, and we all put him in the hospital. He was never quite the same after that. He never laughed again. Sure, we got suspended, but we broke the tough little bastard. LM: And you think the same thing might happen to Mota? BL: Yes... But much, much worse. He might end up dead. LM: How old were you when you hired this gang of thugs? BL: Oh, I don't know... Nine, maybe ten years old... ---------------------------------------------- "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare vs. Ronnie Paris ---------------------------------------------- LM: An old rivalry once again finds its way to the ring in the IIWF Coliseum as Billy Shakespeare squares off against Ronnie Paris. BL: Seems like the sides have changed, though. Paris has been getting booed lately. He doesn't like it, apparently, which proves my point that he's hopeless. LM: Well, I disagree on that point, Brian. However, the fans have seemed to turn on Paris now that he's a little more intense. Anger surrounding the Spur incident has pushed him to use tactics that we wouldn't normally expect from the youngster. BL: See, I have no problem with that, but he's pulling a Genesis. He's whining that the fans don't like him after going intense. You can't have it all, Paris. LM: We tried to get comments from Ronnie Paris recently, but... Well, take a look... [An excited Steve Summer is jogging through the halls of the IIWF Coliseum, which seem to be bustling with activity what with wrestlers and personnel moving to and from. This is presumably at some point during Wednesday War Room due to the activity and abundance of jobbers about.] SS: I'm backstage in the Coliseum hoping to get some comments from a somewhat controversial figure, some might say a whiner as of late, Ronnie Paris. We're on the way to... [Summer stops jarringly, almost hurting himself and definitely surprising the cameraman if the resulting shaky shot is any indication. The reason for the stop is discovered soon as the camera moves over to show a door with the nameplate "R. Paris" on it. Summer knocks on the door.] SS: Ronnie, this is Steve Summer, would you mind letting us in? RP: [from inside the room] I don't have anything to say that I didn't say on Monday. Why the hell do you guys only want to talk to me when I have nothing? Huh? SS: Well, I suppose... RP: [interrupting] I suppose you're wasting my time. Everyone has heard my position, why should I say it again? Get lost, Steve, I'm busy. [A somewhat put off Summer looks forlornly at the door, deciding not to knock again as he walks back up the busy hall, almost bumping into a groggy Rasputin. Fade back to the studio.] LM: And there we go... Hopefully, We can get more comments from Billy Shakespeare... [SCENE: The IIWF gym facilities. Billy Shakespeare goes through a light workout in the ring with one of the gyms scrubs. The other wrestler goes to his corner as Billy Turns to the camera. Lifts up his sweat shirt, revealing bands of elastic around his mid-section.] BS: Hey, Brian Lau, you should appreciate this. Yeah, they are the same ribs that Tiger Claw broke last year. Not broken this time, but bruised. They aren't an excuse, Ronnie Paris. I'm still going to prove to you why the fans ignore you, and not me. I'm going in there bandaged and bruised and putting on the greatest show in any squared circle. Methinks that Ronnie Paris doth protest too much. [The practice wrestler seizes the opportunity to rush Billy's back. Billy quickly slingshots off the rope and into a somersault, dropping his opponent with the "Final Act" DDT. Camera cuts away.] LM: Short comments from both men... BL: Which means that they're probably saving it for in the ring. I must say, though, that I do appreciate seeing the handiwork of one of my friends still having its effects felt today... LM: Well, I hope it doesn't take away from the match on a whole. BL: Time will tell, I suppose... ----------------------------------------- "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder vs. Ike Sampson ----------------------------------------- LM: This promises to be a good match, and a fight through and through. BL: Thunder is tough as nails, and Ike... Ike isn't. LM: But he's no slouch. BL: Posture has nothing to do with this one. How tough a man is does. Thunder can take it to anyone and usually come out on top. I didn't have him as part of my stable for nothing. LM: Of course, he left. BL: Oh, yes, he did, didn't he? LM: Why do you do that? BL: What? LM: Whenever I least expect it, you go all cryptic on me. BL: Because I like messing with your head. It's so easy. LM: Well, back to this match. You've got to wonder how this might pan out. On one side, you've got Thunder, who is involved in a bitter feud with Steve Kowalski, who is definitely not shy about coming down to the ring when he's not scheduled. On the other, you've got Ike Sampson, who has some problems with Mad Dog Watkins, the IIWF IC champ. BL: So? LM: Well, he might make his presence felt during the match. You never know. Ike has been saying a lot of things to Watkins lately, so we could very well see Watkins come down to ringside to hear his one time protege speak to him face to face... BL: Could be... Could be we'll see a clean match. LM: You're being ironic again, aren't you? BL: No, I'm being sarcastic. LM: Same thing, isn't it? BL: No, it's not. The two are not interchangeable. If you think they are, then you obviously don't know what "ironic" means. LM: What _does_ it mean? BL: See? ------------------------------------------------- "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley vs. Timothy N. Turner ------------------------------------------------- LM: Chris Quigley will attempt to keep on his roll as he faces newcomer Timothy N. Turner. BL: Is that anything like Steve Roberts keeping on his biscuits? LM: No, I don't think it is. BL: But you could be wrong. LM: Well, I guess I could be, but I don't think so. BL: Oh, yeah... That law of averages thing, right? You've been wrong so often that sooner or later, you just _have_ to be right. LM: God, I hope so. BL: I bet. LM: We got these comments from Timothy N. Turner from the Ace of Clubs, and as we stated earlier, with him is Duncan Macbeth. Let's roll that tape... [Timothy N. Turner is sitting at his usual table at The Ace Of Clubs, a swank watering hole in the heart of downtown Portland. Unlike our previous visit there, Steve Roberts is not present, but rather Turner is joined by Duncan Macbeth, who is clad from head to toe in dusty biker's leathers, standing out from the rest of the nightclub's leisure-suited patrons. The bearded Macbeth looks as if he couldn't care less, as he swirls a tumbler of Lagavulin single malt in one hand and listens with interest to Turner's discourse. TNT is wearing his usual stylish attire, but it is accompanied by a pair of wraparound sunglasses, trying in vain to cover the swelling on one side of his face. An IIWF cameraman is seated at an adjacent table, recording the two wrestlers' comments.] TNT: Tomorrow I'm in for the biggest match of my short IIWF career. This is where I get the chance to prove who I am and what I can do. Chris Quigley is one of the most respected wrestlers in the federation but I am going to use him to show why I'm the most technically gifted wrestler in the sport. Quigley, I don't like you very much. Your whining really grates after awhile. I'd tell you not to make excuses after I beat you, but I know that you will. Now I'm asking you, Duncan, to give me my distance in this one. DM: Absolutely, Tim. After last Saturday's stunt, I reckon I'll be takin' a wee break from th' waiterin' business, wha'! Besides, if I so much as laid a finger on tha' bleedin' crybaby, we'd never hear th' end o' his pathetic complainin' afterwards. An' wi' tha' great oversized bairn Verhoeven runnin' about, there's too much whinin' t' be heard 'round th' IIWF as it is! TNT: Feel free to come and watch if you want, and watch my back in case Quigley has paid someone to save him the embarrassment of losing to a rookie. Just let me beat him one on one. DM: Fine wi' me. After th' way Kick-me ran his mouth back before tha' useless ten-man tag nonsense, it'll be a pleasure t' watch ye wipe th' mat wi' tha' talent-deficient pantywaist. [Macbeth slugs back his Scotch, then examines Turner's glass with some amusement.] DM: 'Ere, Tim, are ye no' livin' th' Good Life tonigh'? Wha's tha' fizzy piss ye're sippin' at? TNT: Just a precaution, my friend. I'm still somewhat on the mend after last week, and I want to be 100% this Saturday. You see, Quigley, _I_ don't believe in excuses. [Turner takes a long swallow of the ginger ale that has taken the place of his ever present champagne, and turns back to Macbeth.] TNT: Now, your match should be interesting! You get to manhandle that Insipid Ryan Howard again! DM: Aye, tha' posin' ponce's quite th' "backstreet boy", is he no'? Comin' in 'ere with 'is tough clothes an' 'is tough attitude, thinkin 'e's goin' t' own th' place. Well, 'e's about as sharp as a soccer ball if 'e thinks 'e's goin' t' own Duncan Macbeth, wha'. I cannae believe I have t' wrestle these bleedin' reruns, while layabouts like Warnett move ahead o' me in th' Intercontinental Title race! Y'know, Howard, ye're _really_ gettin' on me nerves at a bad time. Fer YE. Ye couldn't beat me at yuir so-called "hard-as-nails" Detroit brawlin' game last week, wha' d'ye think ye're goin' t' do tomorrow nigh' when I out-WRESTLE yuir over-rated arse? Tosser. TNT: If the little loudmouth gets out of line I'll be happy to slap him down for you. Of course, I know that you'll be able to take a punk like this apart all on your own! DM: Ye're no' wrong, Tim-lad! This Saturday, th' whole IIWF's goin' t' take notice after I kick wee Opie's tail all th' way back t' Mayberry. Then I'll see about Warnett, an' tha' coat-tail ridin' redundancy, Highwayman. After tha', maybe th' Cavalier an' th' Incontinent Ryan Howard can fight it out fer th' title o' th' IIWF's Most Useless Newcomer! Ha! How d'ye like me NOW, Timmy? TNT: [laughing] I'll drink to that, Duncan... [The two clink glasses in a toast to their respective good fortunes on the upcoming card, though fortune may be irrelevant, as both men are looking extremely confident. Fade.] LM: You just had to start this Opie thing, didn't you? BL: Me? Hey, the guy played Opie! LM: Oh, never mind. Folks, here's some comments from none other than "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley. [Camera cuts to Chris Quigley, wearing street clothes, standing outside a small, downtrodden arena, in an undisclosed location.] CQ: What am I made of? All you've gotta do is look behind you. Look at one of the many small arenas that I competed in. One of the many arenas where I got my ass handed to me by some of the best wrestlers of the day. I was young, fresh, but eager and desperate to learn more. [Walks closer to the entrance of the arena.] CQ: You see, there's a time in every boy's life when he's got to become a man. It happens when the youngster who thinks he knows it all and can do it all, meets a veteran. Suddenly, he finds his best moves countered. He find that the veteran seems to be somehow reading his mind, always keeping one step ahead of him. The veteran punches harder than he's ever felt. The veteran boots feel like steel-toes. Everything that veteran does is right, and everything the kid does is wrong. That's when the kid grows up, and he realizes what it takes to make it. [Quigley enters the arena, where in the wrestling ring you see an older grappler, stomping all over a blonde haired, blue eyed rookie.] CQ: Marty Warnett has never experienced that, and considering I've met him in the ring at least four times in the past, I take some of the responsibility for that. Someone's got to show you, Marty. Someone's got to take you into the ring, and beat the living hell out of you, until you question your entire career choice. At Midsummer Madness, I promise you Marty, I'm going to _pound_ you. [Quigley looks up at the ring for a few more moments, as the veteran grappler pins the youngster, then Quigley exits the arena, letting the door close behind him.] CQ: On Saturday Night, there is another one. Timothy N. Turner. Not a very gimmicked name. No way. But I'll look past that. I've got to. Turner is an accomplished wrestler, and unlike Warnett, he's paid his dues, although he's taken quite a few shortcuts to get where he is. He's turned on partners, he's used family members, and quite frankly, he's a complete jackass. I don't like you already, Turner. This Saturday Night, you're facing me. I think you referred to me as a "stepping stone"? Lemme tell you something, buddy... I AM NO [BLEEP]ING STEPPING STONE! [Quigley takes a deep breath, looks at the ground shaking his head, then looks back up into the camera.] CQ: Turner, you're going to be the first one to go down. And _you_ will be the example. Marty Warnett, I hope you pay close attention. I'd hate to be you anyday, just because you're an obnoxious, undeserving little punk, but at Midsummer Madness, there won't be _anyone_ who'll want to be in your shoes. I mean it this time. [Quigley closes his eyes, then opens them into the camera again...] CQ: I mean it. [Quigley turns around and looks back up at the arena, while the camera fades out.] BL: Funny that Quigley should find humor in Turner's name. I suppose "Quickstrike" is on his birth certificate... LM: It's a nickname, Brian... BL: So what? TNT is Turner's nickname. It's not his fault that his initials just happen to spell out the name of an explosive. LM: Well, names aside, I think Turner is going to have his work cut out for him when he faces Chris Quigley. BL: It's a no-win situation. If Turner loses, he loses. If he wins, we have to sit around for weeks listening to Quigley complain that the ropes weren't tight enough, or that the air was too cold, or that the barometric pressure was a little too high for his liking, so he's not going to recognize that loss. LM: He's never been beaten cleanly. BL: Do the records say that? No, they just say that he's one this many matches, and lost that many matches. Case closed. LM: Who do you pick? BL: My cleaning lady. She's a badass... -------------------------------------------- Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven vs. Serge Annis -------------------------------------------- LM: Many are calling this match Verhoeven's warm up for Requiem at Midsummer Madness. What do you think? BL: It's true. Annis isn't nearly the talent that Requiem is... LM: Why do you say that? BL: Because I'm hoping to create a rift in Genesis. Anyway, even though Annis isn't fit to even say the words "title belt," let alone hold one, Verhoeven will have to deal with the presence of Genesis on the outside. LM: Truer words have never been spoken. Let's take a look at the German Juggernaut while he's in training... Here's Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven. [SCENE: Otto Verhoeven's gym. The big German, his head lightly bandaged, is punching away on a gym bag with furious vigor, his blows raining down on it with obvious strength. Sweat is dripping down his bare chest. After a few moments he stops and turns around, glaring at the camera.] OV: [breathing a little hard] This Saturday night was the final straw, Requiem. You and your imbeciles sealed the fate and your fancy Genesis will be transformed into an Armageddon once I am through with you and your choir boys. You dare to send out your clowns to jump me? ME? This is my game, freakshow, and I will show you that nobody plays it better than me. [He wipes away some sweat from his forehead, wincing slightly as he touches the bandage.] OV: So you chose Serge Annis as a sacrificial lamb, eh? Your "enforcer", who does the dirty work for you when Highwayman is busy ironing your attire. Serge Annis, the self-styled "Lethal Protector", Serge Annis, before the evolution of Joe Petrow probably the most erratic wrestler in the business, Serge Annis... the under-achiever. In other federations he always was a frightening force dominating the competition with wild and suicidal brawling and of course his firework stunts, going out of his way to take names and end careers. Today... today he is just a shadow of his former self, one of Requiem's lap dogs, only one of many misfits in a stable looking more like a poor backstreet sideshow rather than men. Perhaps the confused Annis has some kind of plan up his sleeve... perhaps he is just too desperate in his wish to stay a force to be reckoned with and clings to Requiem's leg in order to stay in the spotlight or perhaps he is too deluded to realize just what he has become. [He points at the camera.] OV: But on Saturday, Annis, I want you to be the old "Epitome of Evil" again. I don't want the mindless thug in the ring, the Genesis member who jumps when Requiem asks him to, I want the brawler in the ring who fought Brewster Cogburn to a standstill, who had a classic clash with Alex Kidd...not that looney who has to depend on the outside interference of his comrades. The Serge Annis of these days is no match for the Butcher, and we all know it. Perhaps it is only one of these oh-so original Genesis set-ups, where five or six men storm into the ring after three minutes and deliver a... a "punking". Ooooh, like that would stop me when you can't even take out a runt like Derek Mota. No, I want to have a match which is worth the Main Event spot. I know I can deliver that, and I know that you COULD do it in the past... let's see if you have the guts and the skills to do it again. Ach, and the contract signing... I don't know WHY the suits force me to do this... PPV hype, I guess... but if the side-show thinks they can intimidate me they are terribly mistaken. Even Kauffman has returned and to fight against Genesis... he is a title-robbing snotnosed punk, a lean, mean talking machine, but he has always respected the IIWF, the title and the competitors and he is a damned fine athlete, more so than any Genesis member who has the nerve to call himself a wrestler. Saturday, some things will be shook up, some heads will be cracked and some blood will be spilled and Genesis will have to face the finest athlete Germany can offer today and whoever dares to block my path will have to take a trip... into the SLAUGHTERHOUSE! [Slow fade as Verhoeven turns around to continue his training, muttering something about Kauffman as an ally and shaking his head, chuckling.] LM: Verhoeven seems to be a man on a mission, Brian. BL: One of the greatest athletes in our sport today, Morton. I am looking forward to seeing him take apart Annis. LM: Speaking of Annis, let's hear his comments... [Cut to footage captioned, "After Wednesday War Room." Steve Summer is standing in front of a locker room door. Steve looks a tad out of breath and he breathes heavily before starting to talk. Steve doesn't realize that the camera is recording.] SS: I don't understand why Genesis won't talk to any of the other commentators around here... puff... puff... man that Genesis Generation is hard to get through. What? We're recording? [Bleep]. Hello everyone, Steve Summer here standing outside the locker room of "The Epitome of Evil" Serge Annis and we are looking to get some words from him after his match with Rasputin tonight, and regarding his upcoming match against Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven. [Steve knocks on the door, and a loud thump is heard in the room. Steve shrugs his shoulders, and a few moments later the door opens to reveal the 6'8" Epitome of Evil. Steve stares up at Serge.] SA: Yes Steve, how can I help you? SS: We were hoping we could get a few words from you regarding... SA: [Interrupting] You interrupt my work-out for some words, Summer? Fine, I'll give you some words. Tonight, I set to the task of beating this Rasputin. And that is exactly what I did. Despite the obvious distractions I had. There, that enough words for the media Steve? SS: Well, how about some comments about Deathbringer? SA: How about some words about Otto Verhoeven. Deathbringer isn't my concern at the moment. German Juggernaut. Butcher. Those are some intimidating nick-names you have, but be assured that I am not intimidated. It does not matter to me what you dub yourself. In my mind, I'm still going to beat you despite what you call yourself! So go ahead and call yourself the IIWF World Champion! See if I care! You'll know you'd be lying, but why not? My point is Verhoeven, you have a fearful reputation. I certainly am the underdog on your way to Requiem. Well, let me tell you, you won't make it to Requiem in one piece. You remember that surprise I gave you on Saturday? The steel chair? I don't know if you'd remember, after all... you were passed out. But I'm sure you remember the pain. And this Saturday's surprise will be a whole lot worse... heh.. I'm gonna send the very Butcher through his own Slaughterhouse, and I'll see to it he gets burned to the ground. SS: Serge, if you could please comment on Deathbringer? SA: Look, Deathbringer is fighting a hopeless cause here. Deathbringer, your pointless attack tonight proved just my point. Dead man, I don't care to bother repeating my feelings for you as they should be well-known and documented. But let me say this. The more you stick your nose in my matches, the more you plan attack after attack, the more it seals the very nail of your own coffin! But see, Deathbringer, that's okay. You won't need a coffin because I'll see to it myself that you get cremated, one way or another! The fearful Deathbringer? HA! I don't think so... I'll show the world just how fearful the Dead Man looks, real soon... now Steve, I have to get back to my training for The Butcher. No more questions... [Annis walks back into his dressing room and shuts the door. Steve looks back to the camera. Fade.] LM: Another surprise? BL: Yippee... Could it be? No! You don't say! A Genesis run-in? LM: Well, that wouldn't really be a surprise. BL: That was my point, freak. LM: It's hard to say what will happen in this match... Especially with that contract signing earlier on in the evening... BL: Good point. You know as well as I that when a contract signing gets televised, something bad happens. Someone's going to have a table broken over them. LM: Well, let's hope not, okay? We'll also hear from Dan Kauffman in a special in-ring interview. BL: Which should push the length of the show to about five hours. LM: No, it's only two. BL: You're clueless, Morton. LM: Thanks... All that and more is scheduled for tomorrow night, folks, so tune in to IIWF Saturday Night, now seen in over 53 countries. BL: Are you sure about that? LM: Not exactly, but I'd think it would be the case. Next up, folks, we've got our weekly editorial... ["Black No. 1" by Type-O Negative plays as the graphics scroll onto the screen.] ======================================================================== ------------------------THE-ART-OF-CONTROVERSY-------------------------- ----------------------------WITH-BRIAN-LAU------------------------------ ======================================================================== BL: Thanks, Larry. First off, folks, I'd like to make an announcement. Our producer here, in his infinite wisdom... And yes, Larry, that's sarcasm again... Our producer has decided it might be neat to allow the fans of the IIWF to send in their comments, questions, or any other form of babble to us here at Countdown for me to address. Yes, it's kind of an open forum type thing. Send in your trivia questions to try and stump me about IIWF events, or give us your thoughts about the current events around here, or whatever, and I promise to abuse each and every one of you. I'll be frank... I don't want to do it, but my hands are tied. You can send your letters to: tetsuo@interlog.com And put "The Art Of Controversy" in the Subject header. I'll do my best to answer them. Anyway, on to more pressing matters... The entire IIWF is talking about the return of Dan Kauffman. Sure, the guy is a big star. Sure, he can wrestle marginally well. Sure, he has had the second longest IIWF Heavyweight Title reign ever. But he's a geek. I knew that his retirement match against Chris Quigley was not his last here. I knew he'd be back. A guy like Kauffman just can't stay away from all the screaming fans and what not. He's a spotlight hog. Yes, a few weeks ago, I made a plea to the older generation of IIWF stars to band together, to put their differences behind them and fight against the common enemy, but come on. Kauffman? The guy makes Tonnage look quiet and reserved. Big ego, big mouth, and even bigger reputation. A reputation that is unfounded. Suddenly, the guy comes in and takes all the credit for this movement against Genesis. Gee, what a surprise. Kauffman, where were you when all this was building? Hiding in some bush league. Where were you when Genesis basically stole the IIWF Heavyweight title? Hiding in some bush league. Where were you when week after week, Genesis were beating down on everyone without preference? Hiding in some bush league. Now I'm supposed to be impressed that you've come riding in like some hero after the plans have been laid out? I don't think so. The fact is that this counterstrike was in the works long before you were a factor, and now you want to "head up" the whole thing. It makes me sick. Just another example of some loud mouthed American taking the credit for work that someone else has done. Now, friends of mine have gone and allied themselves with you. All I can say is that I am disappointed with those friends. I thought they had more brains than that. I'm just going to sit back and watch how this whole thing plays out, because I want to see Kauffman muff it up like he has everything else in the IIWF. LM: Folks, the comments of Brian Lau... BL: ...are right on the money. LM: [sighs.] ======================================================================== ----------------------------IIWF-TRASH-TALK----------------------------- ======================================================================== LM: First off, let's get comments from someone else involved in the fight against Genesis, the one and only Deathbringer... [SCENE: The mortuary. Deathbringer is standing behind a coffin, holding his scythe in his right hand. Suddenly he raises the scythe and slashes at a seemingly invisible opponent. He then begins to laughs in his demonic way] DB: Oh, did you get hit, Annis? [Deathbringer slashes again at the invisible opponent, still laughing] DB: DID YOU GET HIT? [He throws the scythe away and turns towards the camera, which picks up his piercing red eyes. Deathbringer stops laughing and speaks on with his low, growling voice] DB: I am sorry, Annis... It is just that... well, something overcame me... I just had to run out there and... you know the rest of the story... True, it should not have happened... and maybe now you, and Genesis and all the fans out there think about me being a loser... someone, who never does the right things, just because he is not capable of controlling his very own actions... And I guess you are right... I failed to control my actions last Wednesday... and if you look at all those old tapes, then you know that I failed to control my actions far too often... I am the King of Destruction, the Master of Chaos, I am leading the fools to the gates of Hades... But I do not behave like the King of Destruction, I do not behave like the Master of Chaos, I do not even succeed in leading you fools to the gates of Hades... And then this incident last Wednesday... [Deathbringer looks down] DB: I am really sorry... [Deathbringer looks up again] DB: But I promise you that I will try to improve my skills, that I will try to control myself in the future... [Deathbringer walks over to where he had thrown the scythe and picks it up. He looks at it, as he continues to speak] DB: And I promise you that something like last Wednesday will never happen again... No, I will never hit you with this pole again... [Deathbringer shouts now, as he says the next few words:] DB: The next time, I will hit you WITH THIS BLADE... [Deathbringer slashes at the casket in front of him, and the blade of the scythe penetrates the lid. Deathbringer falls to his knees, raises his arms and looks up to the ceiling, while laughing in his diabolic way again. Fade.] BL: Deathbringer showing more emotion in those comments than I've seen from him in a year... LM: I'm noticing a bit of a change in the Reaper lately... Perhaps it's due to all the attacks targeted at him lately? BL: Maybe it's the glue. LM: I'm not going to ask... Next up, folks, We've got Marty Warnett, who is just coming off an impressive victory against Simon Lebec last Saturday. Tim Dross got these comments... [SCENE: A crowded shopping mall. The camera, held at head level, is jostled around to an almost dangerous degree as a crowd swells. The polyester head of Tim Dross is seen bobbing up and down, as the duo try pushing themselves to the front of the chaos. Various comments are made by members of the crowd, most notably, 'We want Summer' and 'Fire blanks, Drossbite'. At the front of the crowd is Marty Warnett, clutching a small plastic bag. He's surrounded by fans, all pushing pieces of paper and pens into his face for autographs. One young ( but legal ), slim ( but healthily endowed ) female of the species jostles into Marty's way, then lifts her skimpy top, asking him to give a ... very personal autograph, to which the young Welshman signs with great reluctance. He then notices the under siege IIWF staff.] MW: Hey, Dross, I'll meet you guys you know where ... Cameraman: Where? TD: Where? [Marty sighs, as he disappears amongst the crowd. Dross and the cameraman stand their ground for a couple of minutes, then moving back to avoid the stampeding unwashed masses.] TD: I really don't know where he means, I guess we'll just hang around for a few minutes ... WWHHHHHAAA?! [Dross leaps out of his skin as he receives a tap on the shoulder. He turns round and sees... Marty Warnett, wearing a Motley Crue T-Shirt, ripped jeans and boots. He carries a little plastic bag. He's also grinning, and in his free hand clutches a pair of broken sunglasses.] MW: Gee, Timmy, did I scare you? TD: N-n-nooo. Marty, let's go and sit down somewhere. MW: Yup, [points over Dross' shoulder] why not that café over there? [The pair then leave in a hurry before any more fans mob Marty. They enter a dingy cafe, sitting at the back, away from the window. A waitress comes over, and the dynamic duo order coffee and pastries.] MW: You know, Dross, right now I'm excited just to be in the IIWF. TD: Well, you have always professed to be IIWF right to the core ... MW: Damned straight, Timmy. Greatest fed in the world, the one that gave me my big break. [chuckles] Hey, I guess I'll let Petrow continue his Franchise spiel, he's a great worker, a great interviewee... unlike Quigley. [Marty sips his coffee.] TD: Speaking of whom, that bout has of course been signed for Midsummer Madness. MW: At long last... Christopher, face facts. What happened in the past is exactly that -- the past. Since we first met, I've developed, thrown in new moves to my offense, yet you still do the same thing over and over again. Let me guess, would not whining be an innovation for you? TD: Chris does occasionally have a valid gripe... MW: Hrrrumph. Look again at life in wrestling, Chris. We are highly trained athletes, yet paid entertainers. Any lard-ass could take the mic and grunt "I'm gonna kick your ass!" -- see Tonnage, see the soon to debut Smooth. The reason the fans react to me? [points to his chest] Because each and every night, I work my ass off in the ring. Each and every interview, I do my best to put a smile on all those paying fans out there, who go to IIWF events to unwind after the drudgery of life... so, Chris, I owe the fans a hell of a lot, because nothing beats the reaction I get when I enter the arena, the squared circle. So, Chris, I make no apologies for partying, for being flamboyant. The fans respect that, for they know that what they get is what they see. TD: Chris is entertaining in a technical wrestler manner. MW: Yeah, no doubts about it, but which one of us puts bums on seats? I mean, take his entrances. "Oh look, Mr. Hi tech uses a laser". Firstly, nothing beats good pyrotechnics for getting the crowd going. Secondly, you've had the suits bending over backwards for you on that score -- I know Soundbite's request for a laser was turned down. TD: Well, Marty, that was because his image would have been a finger sign, and he also wanted to see if the laser would burn off ladies blouses... MW: Damn, Soundbite does have some good ideas, then... anyways, back to Chris. Quigley, all through your IIWF tenure, you've gone on, and on, and on, just like the Energizer Bunny with a larynx about your deeds in other feds, why don't you just remember where you are? The _I_, _I_, _W_, _F_. Hey Dross, remember the laugh it gave the IIWF road crew when Quigley demanded that interview in MSG, when he stated he was "coming home", yet the Saturday card he referred to was held miles away? TD: Yes, Soundbite has mentioned it... MW: Well, anyway, let's also take a look at Quigley's record in the IIWF. Titles everywhere else except here... give it up, dude! Hell, you're no longer even the most boring interviewee in the IIWF since Kauffman seems to be hanging around the front towers. [Marty drains his coffee and drops a twenty dollar bill on the table.] MW: See ya, Tim. I got a training session. TD: At the gym? MW: Initially... then I'm off to a Bush gig... TD: As always, it's been a pleasure. [Camera fades to black.] LM: That match between Quigley and Warnett is going to be spectacular. BL: Eh... LM: Oh, yes, you prefer the big brawl cheat fests, right? BL: Sure... They're more fun. LM: Well, speaking of big brawls and cheat fests, I believe you had the opportunity to interview the Syndicate, right? BL: Why, yes, I did... Let's roll the footage... [SCENE: The training area of the Dojo. Tiger Claw and Casey James stand with Brian Lau. All three men look expectantly at the camera as the footage begins.] BL: You've got it rolling now? Cameraman: Yeah, I think so... BL: Moron... Are you sure you know how to use that thing? Do you know what focus is? I swear, they're hiring the worst staff here now... [A muttered "bite me" is heard from behind the camera, but Brian seems not to hear.] BL: [Turning to Casey and Claw] Alright, let's get to the point... What the hell? CJ: Huh? BL: Dan Kauffman... What the hell are you guys doing? Casey... You hate the guy. I hate the guy. Claw, what is he thinking? CJ: Hey! I didn't... TC: It wasn't his idea. It was mine. BL: What?! TC: You said yourself on that show you do that we had to put our rivalries behind us. There's a bigger picture now. We have to stop Genesis. It's important to the IIWF, and it's important to those of us who still respect the Syndicate name. BL: Okay, fine... I said that, but Kauffman? I mean, the idiots out in TV land are _cheering_ you guys now! TC: I'm not concerned with how the fans react to us. They can cheer or boo us. If what we happen to be doing appeals to them, then let them cheer. I'm only concerned with results. Right, Casey? CJ: Ummm, yeah, I guess so. BL: Casey, come on... Whenever you look at the guy, you must get the urge to give him the ol' heart punch, right? CJ: [smiling a bit] Well, yeah, sort of... TC: But he won't. Do you understand me? Casey is a disciplined man. He may want to do something, but he realizes that there's more at stake than his personal whims. Like I said, there's a bigger picture. CJ: Yeah, he's right, Brian. I mean, we want to get rid of Genesis, right? We all agree on that. If that means that we need something to give the movement more momentum, then we need to do it. Dan Kauffman can give us that momentum. As much as I'd like to pound on Kauffman, it's best for us to work with him. You know... We have to be professionals. BL: Oh, come on... Professionalism is one thing, but Kauffman? It's like dealing with the devil! TC: It's not that bad. He respects our accomplishments, and our talent. He's never sold us short. Ever. BL: Yes, but he's... He's _Kauffman!_ TC: What would you prefer, Brian? Would you prefer that it were just the two of us? We would get killed. Sure, we're probably two of the best the IIWF has to offer, but Genesis is just too big for us to deal with on our own. We need someone like Kauffman on _our_ side. BL: I stop managing, and look what happens to you... You're spouting trash! TC: If you find my words to be trash, then maybe you'd be best to leave. Come on, Casey. [Claw walks off the set, but Casey stays, looking torn between the two men. He looks at Claw, then to Brian, then shrugs to Brian and turns away to follow his tag team partner.] BL: [shaking his head] Turn that thing off... NOW! [Shot cuts to black.] LM: You got kicked out of the Dojo? BL: Ummm... LM: I thought you owned it! BL: I signed it over to Claw when I became a journalist. LM: So The Syndicate has turned its back on you? BL: I don't know... I think Claw is confused. I want to give him time to consider all this... LM: [looking somewhat shocked] Well, I don't... Ummm, well, folks, let's look at the other side of all this and get some comments from Scott Rogers... [SCENE: Scott Rogers stands before a 'Genesis' backdrop -- the word has apparently been spray painted (in black) on top of all the IIWF logos. He stands with Steve Summer, rookie broadcaster. Rogers has a plaster on the bridge of his nose and also has two or three days' stubble around his mouth. His short cropped hair has a tinge of red about it.] SS: Ladies and gentlemen, with me at this time, in front of this dreadfully defaced backdrop, is Scott Rogers... SR: Defaced, Summer? This ain't defaced! It's all me own work. Yeah, it looks damned _fine_ if ya ask me. SS: Remind me not to, then... Okay, Scott, you're here coming off a big win last week at the expense of "The Franchise," Joe Petrow.... SR: That's right, Summer. But I think we all know it'd've been an even bigger win if old yellow-belly Petrow hadn't gotten his mates to come and 'elp him out. I thought we were gonna have a clean one-on-one, Summer. But Petrow brought his jobber justice buddies along and turned it into what I hear he called it a jobber battle royal, or some crap like that. Well Petrow, all I wanna know is why ya claimed ya were eliminated when no-one even put you out over the top... I mean, ya pals needed all the help they could get! SS: Erm, Scott, I think he was trying to make a point -- inferring that you and your Genesis colleagues are what are known in this trade as jobbers, although I prefer the word "underdog" myself. SR: Yeah I know, Summer. The guy thought he'd try and be funny, but from what I heard, we ripped so many of his pals apart they had to bring in some guy called Rasputin for Wednesday. But I guess Petrow knew that, so that's why he bailed out when he did... SS: I don't think so, Scott. You're still not getting the point... [Rogers looks at Summer and puts his hands on his hips. He smiles as Summer speaks. Summer then gradually gets quieter and quieter and then stops mid-sentence. Rogers speaks very mild mannered.] SR: Oh right. I don't get the point, don't I, Summer? Okay. Well you _tell_ me the point then.... SS: Well, Petrow, as you know, is not a member of the Jobber Justice Squad. Right? [Rogers nods, with the smirk still on his face.] SS: And he isn't their stablemate, like you were inferring then. Okay? [Rogers nods again.] SS: He allegedly paid off the "underdogs" to come out in that ridiculous beetle attire and get into the ring with you, which, just to make you feel better, I believe none of them wanted to do... SR: Oh, that's just to make me feel better, is it? SS: Yes. SR: Okay. [Rogers grins.] SS: ...and then he could take a headset and get on the microphone and infer that his "underdogs" and the Genesis members in the ring together made for a Jobber Justice Battle Royal. Does that make sense? SR: Does that make sense? You're askin' me if that makes sense, yeah? SS: Yes... is... that... a... problem? [Rogers swallows, then sniffs.] SR: I'll tell you the problem, Summer. The problem is....[Rogers suddenly becomes a vision of anger!]...you thinking that much of Petrow. Listen to me, Summer. This guy ain't got half the brain you think he has. You see, I heard him last Friday tryin' to psyche me out, right? So what does he do? He tells me I'm a champ in another fed... fine. He then tells me he held the same title, yeah? [Summer nods. Rogers then speaks mockingly, and even pretends to chew on his fingernails in fear.] SR: But then he tells me... that he was too good for that title and won another just a few hours later or whatever he said. Now I want you to tell me, Summer. Are they the words of a guy who's got a brain, and thinks he's gonna beat me... or are they the words of some peabrain who's scared crapless at the idea o' gettin' in the ring with yours truly, Scott Rogers? SS: Erm... I'm... not too... sure. Why don't you answer that yourself? SR: I don't need to, Summer. I'm sure all the fans, my fans, out there will know the answer... I mean, it's not too difficult to work out. And this shows _I_'m right about all this jobber justice crap. You, and he, say it's meant to be "funny". Listen Summer, now you know the truth. The guy's scared o' me, and he's scared o' Genesis. SS: It's a fair point, Scott, but I'm not sure if those fans _will_ agree with you. [Summer looks up at Rogers.] SS: But then again, maybe they will! Okay, Scott, moving on. Tomorrow night you're _not_ in competitive action, but other Genesis members are. SR: Well, Serge is, and that's about it. I mean, yeah, Seba... [BLEEP]... oh. Sorry Summer. SS: Yes. Right. Yes, Serge Annis faces Otto Verhoeven in what must be his toughest test, since, well, possibly ever. SR: Yeah ya right, Summer. But Sergey's been focussin' on this match for a while now. Trust me, everythin's sorted. Verhoeven may have a World Title shot and you _may_ consider this a "warm up" match for Requiem, but it ain't. I can tell ya now that Verhoeven's gonna be on the end of a defeat. SS: I don't mean to pry but how can you say that with such conviction? SR: [smiling] I read it in the tea leaves, Summer. SS: Really? [Rogers looks at him almost disdainfully.] SS: No, of course you didn't. And you're not going to tell me are you? [Rogers shakes his head and grins.] SS: No, of course you're not. So, Scott, what next? SR: I'm a busy man, Summer. You _know_ I'm always gonna be around whether I'm on the card or not. If I don't get a match 'til the pay-per-view that don't bother me. There'll always be someone to beat up on, even though it does break me little heart to say so. SS: You mean to say you don't go looking for it? I can't believe that! SR: Believe it, Summer. You know 'bout the Casey James Gang as we like to call 'em! And now this guy Kauffman's on the...hey, Summer. Maybe you can tell me as none o' me mates seem to know. Who exactly is Kauffman anyway? SS: Dan Kauffman? You don't know Dan Kauffman? SR: Never heard of him... SS: He's a former IIWF World Champion. He retired a couple of months ago and he's recognized as being one of the greatest wrestlers ever to have graced this planet. SR: Oh right, and that's meant to cut some ice with me, is it? Well, it don't. If he wants to get it on, let's get it on. I mean, all these old guys comin' out the woodwork. They're yesterday's men, Summer. SS: That's very harsh.... SR: You think I care? You know me, Summer. You know I _don't_ care. Listen, I ain't seen _no-one_ prove to me Genesis ain't the future and until I do, which is gonna be a _hell_ of a long time if it ever happens, I'm gonna keep drillin' it in to everyone..... SS: [muttering] That doesn't surprise me one bit, Scott. SR: What? SS: Thanks for your time, Scott Rogers... back to the studio. [Fade out.] LM: What an arrogant man. BL: He only wishes he were Casey James. LM: I have a feeling that he doesn't... BL: Why not? Everyone wishes they were Casey. Look at him. Most guys would kill for a build like that, and that skill... LM: What about teaming with Kauffman? BL: Well, that's one problem... LM: Finally, we've got comments from the IIWF World Champion, Requiem, who unfortunately won't be in action tomorrow night... BL: Gee, what a surprise... LM: Let's roll that tape... [SCENE: The front of the IIWF coliseum, subtitled "Wednesday War Room!". After a moment Steve Summer pops into view, wearing his "Genesis Rocks!" T-shirt.] SS: Hi guys! I'm here to catch Requiem as he leaves after tonight's War Room! I'm hoping to get his reaction to the surprise addition to the IIWF of a certain Mr. Dan Kauffman last IIWF Saturday Night! [Suddenly the doors open, and a throng of laughing, excited fans leave the coliseum like a tidal wave. One young man spots Summer and the IIWF broadcast team and proudly waves his "Kauffman Fears Genesis" sign in front of the camera. After a short time a crowd of black jacketed Genesis Generation members leave the Coliseum, Requiem amidst them as he continues to sign autographs. Gabrielle beside him signs one young fan's 8x10" glossy of herself and gently kisses it, leaving a lipstick mark the young fan swoons over. One Sychopath quickly enters the shot and starts to display his "Genesis Blows" sign, but is quickly pushed out of the way by several Generation members who holds up a large "Sycho Sucks!" sign in its place] SS: There he is! [Pushing his way through the throng] Excuse me! Coming through! Hey, IIWF Reporter coming through! Move it, People! Darn it, I know Steve Roberts! [The crowds slowly part before the young reporter, until finally he is within a few short feet of Requiem, who is still surrounded by the Genesis Generation.] SS: Hey, Reqmeister! It's me, Steve Summer! RQ: Unless you want an autograph, Mr. Summer, I'm busy! SS: Really? Wow! Actually I wouldn't mind -- [Summer holds a hand up to his earphone as he listens carefully to his producer] what? Oh. Sorry, Reqmeister, my producer says that'll have to wait for later. I've gotta ask you about Dan Kauffman and the so-called "Casey James Gang" first! RQ: Ah, yes. I have much to say about those gentlemen, Steve Summer. SS: Really? Well, give me the scoop, the whole scoop, and nothing but the inside scoop! RQ: No, Steve, I don't think so. SS: What? But you just said you had a lot to say about... RQ: [interrupting] I do, Steve. But I think that this weekend, I'll let actions speak louder than words. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really do have a lot of autographs to sign before I can return to my Cathedral. Have a good evening. [With that, Requiem starts to slide off into the thronging Genesis Generation. Gabrielle follows, but pauses and looks over her shoulder] G: I've got a lot to say about that "Nurse" Heidi, Steve. But that can wait too. See ya, sweetie! SS: Oh. Well, uh, there you have it folks. I think... [Fade out.] BL: I don't know how much Requiem paid those fans to act like they liked him, but it must have been quite a bit. LM: The fans of the IIWF get excited about any superstar that wrestles with us, whether the general consensus is for or against. On another note, that Gabrielle is one serious honey. BL: You're hopeless, Morton. LM: What do you think of the "Casey James Gang" moniker? BL: Well, it would appear that James has been put into the lead role. I hope he can talk some sense into Claw soon before Kauffman ruins the whole thing. LM: I think it would be good for Casey to keep Kauffman on his good side. BL: That's why you're not known as the master strategist in the IIWF, Larry. In fact, most know you as an idiot. LM: Hey, I resemble that remark! BL: See what I mean? Read a dictionary once in a while. LM: Well, folks, it's pretty obvious that Brian is in no mood to carry on... Of course, his timing is perfect, since we're out of time for this week. Be sure to tune in tomorrow night when you might just hear Brian Lau say... [Cut to footage of the backstage area at the IIWF Coliseum. A door of a dressing room is seen where Brian Lau accepts a delivery from a pizza boy. He turns to someone inside the dressing room and says...] BL: What the hell _is_ Twisty Bread, anyway? [Cut back to the studio.] LM: For Brian Lau, this is Larry Morton saying stay washed... So long, everyone! [Shot pulls away from the desk as Brian just looks at Morton calmly, shaking his head and mumbling something under his breath.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+