[Fade up on a shot of the Tokyo skyline at twilight, gentle Japanese music drifting over the footage. An aeroplane banks across the sky, the illumination of the cabins glimmering in the half-light, the flashing landing lights sending lens flares across the shot. The crowded skyline of the Japanese metropolis, lights winking on and off in the tower blocks, disappears from view as the shot pans further up into the sky, fading from the hazy orange smog to the deep purple of the darkening heavens.] VO: Japan. The land of the rising sun... [There is a flash across the sky, the mood of the music darkens, and suddenly, there is IIWF World Heavyweight Champion Requiem, seemingly towering over the cityscape, his white eyes staring intently down from his vantage point, the gold belt glinting around his waist.] VO: ...but will it be the country in which the sun sets on the reign of IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, Requiem? [Flash cuts between memorable scenes throughout Requiem's tenure as champion: raising the belt amidst his Genesis cohorts at Coronation Clash; slugging it out with Creed in the triple champion ladder match; joining with Genesis in an attack on the "Old Gen" forces; executing the Reqbreaker on a series of hapless opponents; brutalising Mad Dog Watkins...] VO: A formidable force that has torn the IIWF apart. But now, Requiem faces possibly his sternest challenge, in a hostile land, against a hostile, unpredictable man... [Cut to a slow-motion segment of footage from the main event at Midsummer Madness, Requiem staring coldly into the eyes of special guest referee, "Sychosys" Joe Petrow, who is bawling the champion out.] VO: ...a man fighting for his own personal beliefs, his own ideology, in his adopted hometown... [Flash cuts between footage of Joe Petrow walking the streets of Tokyo, and his chequered IIWF career: the incredible Seven Tables of Fear match against Dirt Dog Unique Allah; his battle with Steve "the Fury" Kowalski; performing various death-defying manoeuvres, leaping from the ring; throwing his hapless tag team partner, "Majestic" Maurice McArthur, like a torpedo at their opponents...] VO: Two men... one prize... and the future of the IIWF. All are on the line tonight, as we hit the Road to Ring Wars IV. All are on the line, _live_ from Tokyo, Japan. This is... [There is an explosion as the opening graphics burst onto the screen:] ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/...hour one...\........|...|.......|....| LIVE! Egg Dome, Tokyo, Japan September 20 1997 [The opening graphics fade through to interior shots of the huge Egg Dome in Tokyo, Japan. The roof of the arena arcs like the horizon over a sea of some sixty thousand fans, cameras flashing like ripples of moonlight over an expanse of water, briefly illuminating one area of fans, then another, then another... In the midst of the darkness is the beacon of the ring area, raised above the floor of the arena, a huge rigging erected over the squared circle, many coloured spotlights spinning over the crowd and the canvas. Above the rigging, four huge video walls relay shots of the live television coverage to the fans, many of whom are so far away from the ring as to be barely able to see it. Suddenly, the Dome itself seems to shake as huge volleys of pyrotechnics erupt in the rafters, rockets streaming up to the rafters from the head of the aisle, which is also raised above floor level. The crowd is now brought alive, the fans shouting their approval as showers of sparks fly as a path of fireworks explodes in turn down the aisle, finally reaching the ringside area -- and the four ringposts are together seemingly ablaze as brilliant white flame shoots up from each corner! As the smoke in the ringside area clears, the voice of Tim Dross is heard over this footage:] TD: Minna-san, Nihon no Tokyo Egg Dome e youkoso! [The shot cuts closer to the fans. The majority of those present are Japanese, many studiously reading their souvenir programmes, others apparently locked in meaningful conversation with their neighbours, others still simply sitting and waiting for the action to begin. Signs are few and far between, but near the ringside area may be discerned certain factions present: amidst the hordes of Japanese are a handful of Sychopaths, ready and prepared for their hero's title match later in the night, and, somewhat inexplicably, a group of young black men, clearly not Japanese, wearing t-shirts which read "IIWF Ring Wars IV: 8 November 1997. He's Back."] TD: Welcome everybody to the Road to Ring Wars IV! Welcome to the land of the rising sun! Welcome to the Egg Dome, here in beautiful Tokyo! Welcome to IIWF Saturday Night! [Cut to the broadcast table at ringside, erected on the same raised platform as the ring itself, at which are seated Tim Dross, wearing his familiar IIWF blazer and a tie which bears the design of the Japanese flag, and his partner, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, who is wearing his trademark leather jacket, but, more noticably, is buffing a small shiny statuette which is standing on the table in front of him.] TD: Howdy, folks, and welcome to this historic edition of IIWF Saturday Night, coming at you live from Tokyo, Japan! I'm Tim Dross, and beside me, as always, is my broadcast colleague and tag team partner, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. Dare I ask, Steve, what you are doing? SR: Just takin' care of my little pal here, Dross. Have you seen this? TD: No, Steve, I can't say I have -- you've been guarding it so jealously this past few days, I haven't been able to get a good look at it. [Roberts proudly thrusts the small figurine at Dross.] SR: This, Dross, is the gong that proves the fact that the "Soundbite" is the best damned announcer in the world today, baby dolls! TD: Ah, yes, the award presented to you earlier this week, voted on by our great fans back in the United States and around the world. SR: Yeah, our "great" fans. Let me tell you something, Dross -- I don't need any of those morons out in TV land telling me that I'm the best announcer in the world. Every single living soul who tunes into this show does so for one reason and one reason only... TD: Corn stars? SR: Oh, ha ha, Dross. Very damned funny. I swear, the Soundbite is the hottest damned property in wrestling, and I don't need a tacky little trinket to prove it. [Roberts knocks the statuette off the table with a swipe of his hand, the metal award apparently falling into a wastepaper bin with a clang.] TD: Good grief. Well, folks, we're coming off the back of one tremendous pay-per-view event, Midsummer Madness, and we're already on the Road to Ring Wars IV! Just seven weeks away, Steve Roberts, and potentially the most exciting spectacular in IIWF history. SR: Stick to the here and now, Dross. We're here in Japan, land of rice, virtual pets and Joe Petrow -- and I feel fine. Whoo-hoo! TD: Well, Steve Roberts making as much sense as ever, but we are indeed enjoying the hospitality of the wonderful Japanese people this week, and what a show we have lined up tonight. Three of the IIWF's four championships up for grabs in the next one hundred and twenty minutes -- Mad Dog Watkins defends the Intercontinental Championship against Chris Quigley, the Syndicate face the team whom they defeated just fourteen days ago for the World Tag Team Championship, Cold Spell, and IIWF World Heavyweight Champion Requiem battles Tokyo's adopted son, "Sychosys" Joe Petrow, in our main event. Three matches that could headline any event anywhere in the world, Steve Roberts, and they're coming up right here tonight! SR: Yeah, yeah, Dross, let's hype up the free TV too, now. Fact of the matter is, Watkins is gonna wipe Quigley all over the mat, the Syndicate are gonna send Cold Spell right back to Swaziland or wherever it is they come from, and Boy Rectum is gonna kiss that shiny gold belt goodbye in front of sixty thousand people! TD: Indeed, after Joe Petrow's controversial role as special guest referee in the match between Requiem and Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven -- who, incidentally, we will be hearing from later on tonight in our second hour -- and after the beating taken by Joe Petrow from all of Genesis at the culmination of Midsummer Madness... well, it seemed the only logical match to make. SR: And you gots ta love Crazy Joe tonight, Dross. In front of his home town crowd -- I mean, these guys are just as nutty as Petrow, Dross -- Petrow's gonna take the big belt. And may the sweet Lord have mercy upon us all. TD: On top of that, we'll see a first round match in the tournament to crown the number one contender for the Cruiserweight Championship, currently held by Derek Mota, who will face Marty Warnett in non-title action later on this hour. The tournament match will feature two men, both coming off the back of tremendous performances at Midsummer Madness, Timothy N. Turner and Ronnie Paris -- and I believe we will see the fans firmly behind Paris here tonight in Tokyo, in the country Paris regards as his second home. I doubt there are fans anywhere in the world who respect solid wrestling technique as much as the Japanese, Steve. SR: Sure, I remember these little crazies from my days in the ring, Dross: they didn't go for the feather boas, they didn't go for the steel chairs and the ringbells -- but give these people an Asai moonsault, Dross, and, boy... you have not seen so many little yellow people bouncing around with delight as when the "Soundbite" pulls off an Asai moonsault. TD: Little yellow people? SR: Yeah, Dross, these guys are all small and yellow. I guess it must be a side-effect of that miniaturisation process the Japanese seem so fond of -- everybody goes yellow. TD: Please, Steve. Folks, we apologise for the nature of Steve Roberts' racially insensitive comments. SR: Sheesh, always apologising for me, Dross. I'm a big boy now, buddy, I can stand on my own two feet. I'm man enough to apologise to somebody when an apology's due... but right now, I say: bite me! TD: Good grief. Fans, we've got some incredible action coming your way tonight, but we're going to kick off with comments from Oregon's favourite son... "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare! [As Tim Dross leaves the broadcast table, Steve Roberts can shiftily be seen retrieving his small silver award from the waste basket, checking that it is not damaged, and slipping it back inside his leather jacket. Dross, meanwhile, steps into the ring.  He lifts the microphone to make his introductions but is abruptly cut off by the sound of "Little Willie" by glam rock icons The Sweet.   The Japanese fans pop for the arrival of Billy Shakespeare, their decibels becoming deafening as he enters wearing a t-shirt blazoned with the visage of departed Japanese wrestling legend, and Billy's original mentor, Kabuki Noh.  He strips off the shirt, handing it to a young girl ringside who faints at her good fortune.  Billy climbs into the ring and leans into the microphone:] BS: Wow, this place is pretty big.  [The crowd, only half of whom understood what he said, pops.] BS: [taking the mic]  I came here to tell you one thing, and one thing     only:  Ronnie Paris will win the Cruiserweight Tournament. [The crowd explodes at the pronouncement of a local favorite's potential success.] TD: Isn't that a bit bold of a prediction, even for you? BS: There are more things in heaven and earth than dream'd of in your     philosophies, Dross.  I say Ronnie Paris will win this tournament...     because _I_ won't be there. [The pop is tempered by confusion.  Tim tries to speak but Shakespeare doesn't allow him the chance.] BS: That's right.  Look up your history of the Cruiserweight belt, right     there at the top of the list, the first winner:  Billy Shakespeare.     Since that time the belt has been worn by two guys who couldn't     make it in the IIWF any longer, a drunk, an egotist, a heavyweight,     and the icing on the proverbial cake: Derek Mota.  As the bard writ     "Praising what is lost makes the rememberance dear."  Following     Midsummer Madness... [Loud pop!] BS: ...I went into President Spreadbury's office and said "Hey, it's time to bring some respectibility back to the Cruiserweight title.  Give me Mota."  Well, the President mumbled something about a tournament, then pretended like he was late for an appointment. [Another predictable pop.  A "Sychotic" fan vomits on himself.  Someone waves a "Marty Warnett live at the Budokah" sign.] BS: Sometimes, in theatre, a director offers you a part... and you just     gotta say "No."  If it isn't going to challenge you as an actor, then why do it? Now let's talk wrestling.   I'm looking for a leading role... not another part in the chorus.  It's one man show time for Billy Shakespeare. TD: And what is this about Paris? [POP!  Much waving of antiquated "The Texas Kid" Ronnie Paris paraphanalia.] BS: I think Hamlet said it best: "I must be cruel to be kind."  I've been receiving a lot of mail recently, and all of it asks "Billy, why are you bothering with Ronnie Paris"?  Listen to the unoffical hotline and punch number 6 to hear "Billy Shakespeare's secret obsession with Ronnie Paris." TD: You know that "unoffical hotline" is nothing but silly speculation. BS: But it got me thinking:  why _am_ I wasting my time with Ronnie Paris? He's not in my league and he never will be. [Cheers for Paris's name suddenly turn to murmurs as the crowd realizes the slam.] BS: So lend thy ear to mine tale, Ronnie Paris:  here's your chance.   Win the belt. I won't stand in your way, I'll make sure no-one else does. I don't think you can do it with me in the tourney, let's see you do it without me.  Prove to me that you aren't another "never-was" mewling and puking for attention.  To quote Hamlet again, "Come, give us a taste of your quality!"    [The crowd has turned hostile.  Billy grabs the mic again, holds his arms in the air and shouts:] BS: Kaiju Soshingeki! [The crowd seems to appreciate this, and Shakespeare exits again to the strains of "Little Willie". Dross returns to the broadcast table and seats himself next to Steve Roberts once more, adjusting his headset as Roberts taps his pencil on the desk.] TD: Well, Steve Roberts, a bombshell announcement from Billy Shakespeare -- he has pulled his name from the tournament for the shot at the Cruiserweight Championship, apparently to give Ronnie Paris "a chance"! I can only imagine that the sleight of that gesture won't be wasted on young Ronnie. SR: Aw, Dross, you know it's all bluff and no stuff from Shakespeare. He's pulling out of the tournament to avoid being embarrassed by Paris -- assuming, of course, that he could even make it past the first round. TD: Indeed, Billy's first round opponent was scheduled to be the "Showstopper" Simon Lebec on next week's show, but clearly that match is now somewhat up in the air. Well, folks, we must move on -- on to our first match of the evening, a tag team contest featuring the Harlequins, a partnership not unknown here in Japan, going up against the controversial Licensed for Devastation. Before we get up to the ring, let's go backstage to get comments from the Harlequins: [Cut to the Harlequin locker room backstage, where "The Beautiful People" by Marliyn Manson is playing in the background. Chaos is watching a video monitor that is playing the part from Midsummer Madness where he was eliminated by the McArthursteiner. The scene rewinds and plays over and over. Comedy and Melody are going nuts over their new outfits.] COMEDY: Did you see this?! Oh my God, this skirt is so cute! MELODY: That's not all, guess what I saw them selling at the stands! [Melody reaches into her bag and pulls out an "I RUN WITH SCISSORS" jacket.] COMEDY: Oh cool! Chaos! They've got your jacket on sale now! [Chaos watches the scene rewind and play again, only muttering one word:] CHAOS: Petrow... COMEDY: Oh, the poor dear is still upset. I can't believe that cheater got away with that. MELODY: He'll get over it. COMEDY: I've never seen him so upset. Chaos, honey, are you gonna be okay? CHAOS: Petrow... [The door opens and Tragedy walks in, talking to a Japanese reporter.] TRAGEDY: Sumimasen. REPORTER: Hai! Domo arigato gozaimasu. [bows] TRAGEDY: Do itashimashite. [bows and closes the door.] I can't believe these press conferences now. COMEDY: It was that interview with Dross. People have a new-found respect for you now. TRAGEDY: [sigh] Well, we got a match to get to. Is everybody ready? [There is a huge crashing sound as the camera turns to Chaos with his fist in the monitor. Small pulses of electricity are coarsing up his arm.] TRAGEDY: Chaos? [Chaos turns to his brother. An evil look is on his face.] CHAOS: Ready, brother. [Chaos removes his fist and heads out the door. Tragedy and Comedy shrug and follow him, while Melody lingers in the room to try on her new jacket. Cut to ringside.] ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| The Harlequins vs. Licensed for Devastation |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: CS [The infamous Sparkplug Lee strolls into the ring without any problems to the surprise of sixty thousand fans.  Sparkplug, gaining confidence, begins to bow to the Japanese fans, but this only breaks an almost perfect entrance, as he ends up causing a rip in his pants.  As usual the fans break into laughter and poor Sparky's face goes red.] SR: Is Sparky the most incompetent man on earth, Dross? TD: Well.... SR: Oh wait, we'll always have Larry Morton. [Lee finally gains his composure and begins his introductions for the match.] SL: This opening tag contest is scheduled for one fall [slight pop for the anticipation of the contest] with a twenty minute time limit.  First making their way down the aisle at a total combined weight of 545lbs and hailing from Sleepy Hollow, Illinois; accompanied by both Melody and Comedy, here are Chaos and Tragedy... THE HARRRRRLEQUINS! [A decidedly mixed pop as "My Lover's Box" by Garbage starts up over the PA system.  Comedy and Melody walk out of the curtian to a great male pop and then Tragedy and Chaos come out to reaction bordering on the hostile.] SR: Doesn't sound like the 'Quins are too popular over here, Dross. TD: Indeed not, Steve Roberts. The last time the Harlequins competed here in Japan, they turned their backs on the fans somewhat. [Chaos slowly walks down the aisle with Melody close to his side while Tragedy struts down to ringside with Comedy happily bonking fans on the head with the Happy Hammer to the fans' amusement.  As they near the ringside area, two figures jump over the railing, and ram both Tragedy and Chaos into the steel ringpost.] TD: Oh no! Two fans have jumped the Harlequins. SR: Those aren't fans, you moron! It's the Harlequins' opponents, Licensed For Devastation, getting an early jump on things. TD: Oh, this is bad! With Tragedy and Chaos out, Melody and Comedy are all alone with LFD. SR: I'm loving this match already, Dross. [As both Choas and Tragedy lie on the floor in utter shock and with two nasty headaches, LFD snatch both Comedy and Melody.  To an enormous heel pop, Reggie Starr pulls from his tights the one and only, Shock the Taser, with intent to use on both female Harlequins.] TD: This is gross.  Someone has to stop these two monsters. SR: Are you kidding?! This is getting better by the minute, Dross. TD: I don't know who is more sick: LFD for what they are about to do, or you for condoning this. [Just when it looks like it is curtains for the two 'Quins, a huge face pop erupts as the High Plain Drifters run down the aisle and pounce on the unsuspecting Devestators.} SR: What the hell...?! TD: The High Plain Drifters came out of nowhere! They're back, Steve Roberts.  And they just saved Comedy and Melody here tonight from potentially very serious injury! SR: I don't think their stay at the Betty Ford Clinic did them any good. They have to be drunk to be protecting these two sluts. TD: I think HPD are thinking clearly for the first time in their life. SR: And to think I used to love these guys.  This match sucks, Dross. [Pale Rider and Easy Rider, their leather vests flapping as they throw punches, continue to pound away on the surprised LFD, and are able to knock the taser out of Starr's hand.  Comedy and Melody go over to tend to their men while the Drifters are able to claim possesion of Shock the Taser. Before Starr or LFD Chaos can attempt to retreive their dangerous toy, the Harlequins grab the two and lead them to the ring.  Pale and Easy, pleased with a job well done, strut satisfied back to the dressing room with the taser in hand.  Meanwhile,  LFD suffer a pounding in the ring.] TD: Looks like LFD's gameplan has backfired and they are now in a whole heap of trouble. SR: This bites, Dross.  Those two had no right coming down to ringside.  They had no right changing their ways, Dross.  They can't be thinking clearly. Those are my boys, Dross.  They'd never do that to me in their right frame of mind. Get Josey Wales on the phone. Get Hardin! [The Harlequins continue double-teaming their opponents in the ring. Chaos, decorated in neon green face paint along with painted red and blue diamonds and black lips, chokes LFD Chaos in one corner while Tragedy does the same to Starr.  The Harlequins then send the two LFD members for a ride, which ends with both Devastators colliding with each other.] TD: LFD have really upset the Harlequins out there tonight.  I think that attack did a lot more damage then good for LFD. SR: If it wasn't for those damn Drifters... [Both Harlequins then pick up the two stunned heels and whip them into the ropes.  Tragedy hits Starr with a stunning dropkick, which receives a huge pop, while Chaos shocks the crowd with his own dropkick using all 325lbs to send LFD Chaos flying from the ring.  Chaos and Tragedy then hit the helpless Starr with a double suplex.  The ref asks Chaos to leave the ring, which he does, but not without dropping an elbowdrop on Starr's chest. Tragedy then brings Starr back up, only to bring him back down with a snap suplex.] SR: I can't beleive they did it, Dross. TD: Come on, Steve, get over it. [The Harlequins keep their dominance as Tragedy bounces off the ropes to nail the rising Starr with a flying forearm.  Tragedy then drops on top of Starr, but instead of going for a pin, begins to rain down punches on top of Starr.] TD: The Harleys are really teaching the LFD a lesson tonight.  Don't go messing with their women. SR: I learned a lesson.  Those damn Harlequins are going to plague me for the rest of my life -- thanks to those moronic cowboys!  I can't... Aw, dammit, Dross. [Tragedy continues to hit Starr with blow after blow to the head.  Finally, the ref makes Tragedy break.  This allows Starr to crawl to his corner and make a tag to Jonathan Chaos while Tragedy argues with the official. Tragedy then tags to his little brother, Chaos, who, unfortunately for LFD Chaos, is just as furious as Tragedy.  Chaos charges towards the African-American and blasts him with a powerful clothesline that drops the Devastator on his butt.  Chaos then lifts him back up for a belly-to-belly suplex that send the big man flying.  LFD Chaos gets back to his feet only to receive several forearm blows to the head and finally be hit with a big clothesline that sends him sailing over the ropes, dropping down to the arena floor. Reggie Starr and Jonathan Chaos confer on the outside, obviously still shaken by losing their taser.  Chaos gets tired of the chat on the outside, and grabs both LFD members and introduces each to the other's noggin.  This shakes them up more, and allows Chaos to drag Jonathan to the apron and suplex him back inside.] TD: Starr and Chaos seem to be totally off their game plan right now, Steve Roberts. SR: And whose fault is that, Dross?! [Chaos is vicious in the ring and takes the black man apart with several chops, punches and forearms.  The Harlequin then hoists up the 300 pounder for a ferocious powerslam.  A huge pop as Chaos begins to climb the ropes.] TD: What's the big man attempting here?  Could it be...? [Chaos leaps through the air for a fantastic looking Chaos-sault -- but the delivery is lacking as Chaos lands right on Jonathan's knees.  Chaos holds his chest while LFD Chaos groggily gets ot his feet.  Jonathan realizes for the first time his team is in control and begins to land savage kicks to Chaos' chest.  Jonathan then takes this time to yell up the aisle, his colourful comments evidently directed to the Drifters.  Jonathan then turns around and lifts Chaos for a big slam.  LFD Chaos then makes a tag to the cocky Starr, who also has a few comments directed towards the Drifters before scaling the top rope.] TD: This is bad -- Starr has taken too much time getting to the top rope... and Chaos catches him! Powerslam! Chaos snatches Starr out of mid-air and powerslams him to the mat! Incredible! SR: Starr sure went for one nasty ride.  Damn Drifters, they ruined everything... TD: You realise a match is still going on here, Steve. [Chaos then picks up the startled Starr and sends him for yet another ride, this time a nasty powerbomb.  Chaos, realsing he has had enough fun, makes the tag to Tragedy.  Tragedy uses his great speed to dazzle Starr, using several takedown moves, and quickly applying holds on each body part. Finally Tragedy executes a big belly-to-back suplex, before locking on a sleeper.  Tragedy really grinds the hold in as Starr appears to be fading. Starr begins to rally, and backs Tragedy towards his corner. Jonathan Chaos is waiting at his corner patiently with a shiny steel chair in hand.  Just when Tragedy is close enough, LFD Chaos swings the chair -- but Tragedy is warned by Comedy just in time, and ducks out of the way -- causing Jonathan to plaster Starr with the chair! Pop! Starr stumbles into the middle of the ring to receive a superkick right on the chin courtesy of Tragedy.  Tragedy then sees this as a good time to end the match and makes the cover.  LFD Chaos sees this as a good time to try to make a save but unfortunately for him Tragedy sees him coming and moves out of the way just in time as LFD Chaos lands an elbow right on his partner's chest! Tragedy, proving he is an equal opportunity bruiser, gives Jonathan the same treatment as his partner with a superkick to the chin, sending LFD Chaos to the outside!] TD: Harlequin Tragedy is a house of fire in there, Steve Roberts! Hang on -- the Drifters are coming back out here! [There at the head of the runway, the Drifters reappear.  They seem to be having a great time with their new toy, constantly buzzing the taser at each other, feigning shocks and injuries.] SR: [mumbling] Damn Drifters.  They've become damn thieves.  Playing with that damn taser. [The Harlequins now seem ready to wrap this match up as Tragedy tags to Chaos, who grabs Starr and sets him up for a powerbomb as Tragedy jumps to the top rope.  Tragedy then leaps off the top rope to hit Starr with a dropkick, allowing Chaos to finsh the powerbomb for the Maximum Harlequin.  But before they can make the cover, Jonathan drags his partner to the outside and revives him by pouring a large cup of soda over him, much to the chagrin of the front row fan from whom it was stolen. He then points out to his partner that the thieves are at the top of the aisle.  Realising that the match isn't exactly going their way, they decide to greet the Drifters.  The Drifters, seeing them coming, decide it's time to get back to the dressing room.  The ref then begins a count while the Harlequins wait patiently in the ring.] SR: Go get them, LFD.  Whip those damn Texans' asses! TD: Steve Roberts, will you please stop using that word. SR: I'm sorry.  I'll never mention the word "Texan" again. TD: Well, the ref is calling for the bell.  This one is in the record books. [Ding! Ding! Ding.  The ref raises the Halrequins' hands high in the air as the whole happy Harlequin family celebrates their win.  "My Lover's Box" starts up again as the fans greet them with a mixed pop.] TD: The Harlequins definitely got their revenge on LFD for that totally unprovoked attack. SR: That wasn't an attack, Dross.  We could have seen an attack if it wasn't for those... TD: [interrupting] Anyway, the Harelquins get the win, and the Drifters make a truimphant return. SR: Damn Drifters. TD: Next up we've got Tony Starks going up against the massive Tonnage! SR: Starks is going to be wishing he never signed this match before too long! TD: Be that as it may, Starks and Tonnage were both survivors of Midsummer Madness Matches at our recent pay-per-view. SR: Starks wasn't. TD: What do you mean? SR: Didn't you hear Turner on Monday? If Puke Steele hadn't walked they would have won, so he has claimed a moral victory! TD: He can claim all he wants, but it still goes down as a W for Tony Starks. Speaking of Timothy Turner, I see he has some guests in the arena tonight. His brother Tom and his old partner, Akira Saito have been wrestling here in Japan, so they came out to see the match. SR: I thought Timmy didn't get along with either of these guys. TD: Apparently they have buried the hatchet. Here comes Tony Starks down to ringside. SR: Looks who's with him! I guess he figures that he needs all of these people to match up against Tonnage. ["C.R.E.A.M." by the Wu Tang Clan plays as Tony Starks heads down to ringside. He gets a respectable cheer from the crowd, but he doesn't acknowledge it in any way. He is followed by Pizzazz, Medusa, Derek, Shadoe, and finally Dirt Dog Unique Allah.] TD: Dirt Dog looks surprisingly... sober. SR: He probably doesn't like Sake. Who can blame him... the stuff is foul. TD: That didn't stop you from drinking an awful lot of it last night. SR: A man's got to do what a man's got to do. Here comes Tonnage! ["The Beast" by Twisted Sister replaces the Clan and the massive Tonnage walks down the runway, followed closely by Little Louie. Tonnage looks like he's in a good mood as he looks towards the crowd in the ring.] SR: The big man is going to eat Starks whole! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Tony Starks vs. Tonnage |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: RP [Sparkplug Lee, not used to having to work with so many people in the ring, looks a little nervous. He calls out his announcements in English and they are repeated by a translator to all of the Japanese fans.] SL: Introducing first, to my right... hailing from Staten Island, New York and weighing in at 269 pounds... Tony Starks! [Starks doesn't react in any way as a good sized pop fills the crowd.] SL: And to my left, and, uh, to my right, hailing from Albany, also in New York, and weighing in at 565 pounds... Tonnage! [A respectable pop as Tonnage raises his hands, as if in victory.] TD: The rest of the Age of Rage leaves the ring... as does Little Louie... and the ref is calling for the bell. SR: What does Starks actually think he can do against this monster? TD: Well, that was a good start! [Starks just snapped a quick kick to Tonnage's knee, causing the big man to grimace in pain, but not go down. Starks tries to follow it up with a leg sweep but Tonnage just laughs.] SR: I don't care how fast you are or how talented you are... a big man will always beat a little man. TD: And vice versa. SR: What? TD: Aren't you up on your announcing history? Don't you remember the famous quote by Yogi Berra? SR: Who? [Tonnage flexes his massive arms as Starks circles him warily, trying to decide what to do next. He decides... and nails Tonnage with an incredible flying drop kick!] TD: Brutal assault by Starks! I think I see a trickle of blood from the nose of Tonnage! SR: I hope Starks has his life insurance paid up! TD: What's this now? Ike Sampson is coming down the runway! SR: What's that cretin doing down here? Has he finally wised up and joined the Age of Rage? TD: I find that quite unlikely. [Sampson, seeing the other Age of Rage members looking at him with some displeasure, stops half way down the runway and watches. Meanwhile, Tonnage has lost his grin after Starks' assault and looks like he's starting to get serious. Starks goes for a second drop-kick and Tonnage swats him out of the air like he was a mosquito.] SR: Man! That guy is big! Why don't we have all the rest of the Age of Rage, including the chicks, get in there against him. That _might_ make this a fair match! TD: Tonnage has scooped Starks up and... OH! A thunderous powerslam! That's got to slow Tony Starks down! SR: Yeah, and Sampson is loving it! Look at him laugh! TD: Ike seems to be heading back to the locker area. Apparently he just wanted to see Starks get hurt! SR: That Ike! What an idiot! He challenged a guy who brings five other people with him to ringside! [Tonnage hoists Starks up into a Gorilla Press position but is distracted by Derek Rage jumping onto the ring apron. Before anyone else can react, though, Little Louie pulls the Prophet off of his perch!] SR: This isn't good! Louie'll get creamed by those guys! TD: Actually it looks like Derek is turning his back on Tonnage's diminutive manager... and no wonder! [Pizzazz crashes a steel chair into the back of Little Louie's head and then both she and Medusa start raining down kicks upon him. Tonnage sees this and lets Starks fall to the mat in a thundering Press Slam. He then runs over to the ropes where the carnage is within reach, sending the female ringside contingent scrambling away from Louie.] TD: Tonnage has saved his manager but Starks has regained his vertical base! SR: Why not just say, "Hhe stood up"? [Starks runs at Tonnage, who turns... and catches Starks in a big bearhug! He then takes him down in a belly to belly suplex that leaves Starks in agony!] SR: I guess Tonnage thought Starks looked tired and needed to lie down! TD: I don't know if Tony Starks can continue after this and... OW! Derek and Shadoe have hit the ring and are pounding away at Tonnage! Dirt Dog Unique Allah is in there! Even Tonnage can't stand up to this onslaught! The ref is calling for the bell! SR: I knew that it would take all of them to take the big guy down! Dog pile on the fat guy! TD: Sometimes you confuse me a great deal. SR: It's just so easy. [Suddenly, there is a huge pop as a spotlight illuminates three figures making their way down the aisle, two men, one larger than the other, run down to ringside, while a tall woman follows in their wake.] TD: Wait! Who's this coming down the aisle! It's Damage Inc.! Newcomers to the IIWF... but whose side are they on? [This is answered very quickly as Damage Inc. hit the ring -- and then rapidly begin hitting every Age of Rage member within reach. The referee signals for the bell once more -- Ding! Ding! Ding! -- and burly security officials swarm down the aisle in an effort to restore order. One by one, the Age of Rage are ejected from the ring -- first the Dirt Dog, who sails over the top rope, then Starks, who elects to roll out under the bottom rope, followed by Shadoe and Derek, who have a wild look in their eyes as they stare up at Alex Porteaux and Eddy Ramos, known collectively as Damage Inc.] SR: The Prophets actually look scared! TD: Maybe not scared. More like incredibly surprised. The Age of Rage has cleared the ring area and Little Louie is helping Tonnage to the back. The big man doesn't look too hurt and I'm sure he'll be all right in no time. SR: What about this Damage Inc.? They're strutting around the ring like they own it! TD: It appears that Porteaux and Ramos have some words for the crowd. [Ramos holds the ropes open for the tall black woman, Jeandra, to enter the ring, while Porteaux grabs a microphone. He is wearing a black New Orleans Saints t-shirt with blue jeans, while Eddy Ramos is sporting a white "REDMAN" t-shirt and LARGE jogging pants. Jeandra is pacing around the ring sporting a black and red Armani business suit which fits her quite well. She draws some calls from the few American males in the crowd despite the fact that the only skin she is revealing is her face and hands. Many of the Japanese fans recognize Damage Inc. and pop as they prepare to speak.] AP: Ya know, what I'm about to say probably don't mean a goddamn thing to anybody in the IIWF... anyone in this arena... anyone in this WORLD. But it was three years ago that Damage Incorporated started their DOMINANCE of wrestling... in this very country. Someone was trying to run a scam against us. They tried every method possible to keep us from our destiny. We told them from the get-go that SOMEBODY was gonna feel it because of what they did, and they didn't believe it. So we HAD to ruin two careers... just to prove our point. JEANDRA: You see, we don't need to go into a long spiel about how the IIWF has to get ready for us. It's not necessary and we don't specialize in thirty minute monologues, especially when we haven't even wrestled yet. We're about getting in this RING... and getting in that ASS. Anyone who wants to contest us... who wants to know about Damage up front and in person... SHUT US UP... please. We don't like talking for too long. We aren't known for our pleasant conversation. Eddy... what ARE we known for again? ER: GETTIN' IT OOOOOOOON!! AP: Eloquent, ain't he? It's customary... that when somebody steps into a new fed... they should offer a challenge. A straight challenge... a direct step-up on the mic. Well, allow me to produce... the PROPHETS OF RAGE. Yeah, it's us, Prophets. You condemned us to death the last time we spoke... and it worked. We're dead, boys and girls... and we're STILL in front of you. How you expect to get rid of us now? We intend on taking this to ANY level you want. Because that's the only thing that'll satisfy you about THIS war. We're waitin'... JEANDRA: If you're looking for more talk... ask someone else. We're men and women of action. [Jeandra drops the mic and leaves the ring, closely followed by Porteaux and Ramos, as "Reunited" by the Wu-Tang Clan kicks in over the PA system. A wide-angle shot shows Damage Inc. retreating up the aisle, their images relayed on the huge video walls above the ring. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: There you have it, folks: a team honoured with titles and awards all over the world of wrestling has come to the IIWF -- and they've got unfinished business to attend to with the Prophets of Rage. SR: Tough guy, gay guy. Which is which? TD: Well, Steve, while you formulate your typically astute analysis of this partnership, we must move on. More tag team action up next as the Syndicate defend their newly-won World Tag Team Championship belts against Cold Spell, the team whom they defeated for the titles two weeks ago at Midsummer Madness. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| IIWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| The Syndicate [c] vs. Cold Spell ....................................................................... WRITER: JdW SR: The Syndicate, the tag team of the discerning fan, are going to defend their Tag Team championships against Fold Spell. That's right, the Syndicate, the only team with two tough guys. TD: The Harlequinns, who we can assume are an interested party in this     match, are seated up near the rafters as you can see... [pause while     Dross realizes the camera isn't focused on the right area]... take my word for it. SR: Here come the Culture Clubites, Dross. My, both gay guys look     focused! But Dross, I have a question... what's a frumious bandersnatch? [Dross completely ignores the query as the former champs file down the aisle. As could be expected, Edmund Fitzgerald is fairly collected and seems very focused, while Icehawk is having a tough time concealing that he's genuinely pissed about something. The two roll into the ring, and suprisingly enough it's Fitz that asks for a mic. The Japanese techies seem to be responding just as quick as the American ones ever did, so it would seem people is people, as it were.] SR: Oh great, we get to hear Fitz blab about... wait a minute, someone     grabbed the mic first! This better be someone interesting. TD: It appears to be the Phoenix! SR: Crap. Do you hear that sucking? [Icehawk and Fitzgerald are startled by the figure who's leapt from the crowd, but the camera quickly shows the individual to indeed be The Phoenix. Although both men stand before him, The Phoenix seems to look through Fitzgerald and addresses Icehawk.] TP: Have you two learned your lesson yet?  Have you learned that you're     only part of Genesis when you have that gold around your waists?     When you were the champs, you were a proud part of Genesis.  Now,     you're back to being Cold Spell and supposedly getting in the way of     the almighty Highwayman. SR: [over headset] Good point, for a loser. TD: [over headset] It would seem that the Phoenix is still trying to sow     the seeds of discontent in Genesis, specifically Icehawk who'd have just cause not to really like Genesis at the moment. TP: _You_ [he points at Fitz] know you're better than the Syndicate and     _you_ [he points at Icehawk] know you're better than Genesis.  [big     crowd pop]  Why don't you act like real men?  Why don't you stand on     your own two feet and.... [It becomes evident that part of the big pop was for Tiger Claw and Casey James charging down the aisle.  The Phoenix is interrupted as the Syndicate members club Icehawk and Fitzgerald from behind.  The Phoenix pushes Tiger Claw away from the scene and chops away at his chest, only to be grabbed and punched by James.  The diversion gives Cold Spell time to recover and they quickly retaliate on James and Claw.  Few blows are exchanged before the jobber justice squad is on the scene and breaking up the battling teams and The Phoenix.  The latter collects himself, shakes his head, and leaps over the ring guard, making his way deep into the crowd while both teams are escorted to their respective corners.] TD: How about that, the Phoenix causes a minor distraction! SR: Minor is right, that lasted all of what, ten seconds? TD: We haven't even had introductions yet, folks... and we may not get     them soon, as Fitzgerald has picked up the forgotten mic. SR: Damn, more talk. The one thing I don't like about this whole     Japanese deal is that they break up the fight right away but they let idiots ramble on at will. [Fitz has indeed picked up the mic, and although his idiocy or lack thereof is debatable, the fact that he wants to get a word or three in edgewise is not.] EF: Casey, we've now met twice in IIWF title matches -- once for the     World title, and once for the World Tag titles.  Both times, you've     pinned me -- the only two times anyone in the IIWF has managed to do     that. And I respected you for that.     But after you helped Requiem, all that respect got flushed down the     toilet.  That might sound strange, since you were fighting on my     side, but it's not.  The point is, when Icehawk and I joined     Genesis, we did it openly.  The fans might not understand why, but     we didn't try to fool them by hiding under a mask.  We did what we     thought was best, and we accepted the consequences.     So the fans might cheer you, and boo us... but you and I know     something that they don't -- that you are a gutless coward who isn't     fit to be a minor champ in the lowest Loop fed, much less a World     Tag champ in the IIWF. [With that, Fitz hurls the mic down and makes a move to go after Casey. Fortunately, the remnants of the previous JJS incursion are still around, so Ned Norton and the Rotundos immediately throw themselves into Fitz's path. The groan from Steve Roberts is easily audible. Finally, with both teams pushed into their corner by sheer mass of scrubs, the introductions can be made. Sparkplug Lee quickly drops a magazine he was reading which can be seen to sport a very buxom and very unclothed Japanese woman on the cover. His Japanese counterpart, instead of trying to make the annoucement as well, runs over to scoop up the smut.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the following tag team contest, scheduled for     one fall, is for the IIWF World Tag Team championships! Introducing     first, weighing a combined 500 pounds, the challengers, Cold Spell! [Pause while the crowd starts a rather loud "Hard-core!" chant for no apparent reason.] SL: And their opponents, at a combined weight of 560 pounds, your IIWF     Tag Team champions... Casey James and Tiger Claw, the Syndicate! [The bell rings, and now that all the priors have been dispensed with the JJS feels free to leave the ring and let these two teams go at it. Icehawk is really itching to get in, but Fitz convinces his partner that he should start the match. In reply, the champs nominate "Blackheart", making it an early size vs size matchup.] TD: If you saw Countdown yesterday, you know that the Syndicate are     trying to work a new manouver into their repetoire, as it were. I've     actually seen a demonstration, and it looks quite effective. SR: Care to let us in, Dross? TD: No, if we keep it a secret 'til they use it, our viewers won't turn to a rival wrestling show. SR: [beaming with pride] I _knew_ you had a darkside to ya', buddy! [Both the bigger men slowly circle, looking for a point of attack. Finally, James makes a feint for Fitz's arm, and when the Michigan native pulls back the arm Casey's able to grab an amateur single-leg. Casey shows one of his glimpses of techincal ability with a nice legtoss, and as Fitz is hitting he's quick to hold on for the leglock. He's squeezing as hard as he can, but of course nobody really expects Edmund to give up easily. James gives up trying for the submission and lifts Fitz straight up in the air, bringing him down hard over his leg with a kneebreaker. James lets go, and sizes up the hobbled Fitz for a clothesline, but Fitz is well aware and has seen it coming. When James begins to charge, the Michigan native ducks under and grabs James around the waist. Using Blackheart's momentum, he drives back into a hotshot-like manouevre, and immediately after hitting it starts struggling towards his corner.] TD: Nice counter-move there by Edmund, and now both men are going for an     early tag... who'll make it first? SR: Hey Dross, you ever seen Crash? TD: What the hell does that have to do with the match, Steve Roberts? I     really want to hear this segue. SR: Nothing, I just thought it was a good movie. Deborah Unger... Holly     Hunter... Rosanna Arquette... [The Soundbite starts to emit a     low-pitched grumbling sound which, quite frankly, scares the     bejeebers out of most of us.] [Both men make tags at about the same time, meaning that Icehawk and Tiger Claw are running right at each other, and neither's ready to conceed the right of way. Finally, the Finn slides under Claw's legs, catching most everyone by surprise, and spins quickly around to fire a kick into Claw's gut. TC thinks the form is weak, so he fires one back as a "instructional aide", eef you weeeel. The stiff kick keels Icehawk over, and allows Claw to take further initiative, as he sets up Hawk's head for a collision course with his knee. Hawk is then sent to the opposite ropes as Claw goes off himself, and on the way past his corner reaches out for a tag. James obliges, and enters the ring to see his partner nailed with a rana. Icehawk gets back up to celebrate, yelling "Look at what we can do without Genesis!". Ironically, James chooses this point to mow down an unsuspecting Hawk with a lariat.] TD: So far, the tag team champions have been proving their mettle, some     people thought they'd have trouble with a seasoned tag team duo but     they've come out strong. SR: I came out strong once... so I went back for more. TD: Best weekend of your life? SR: That better not be an offer, Dross, because I don't go that way. Maybe some of those "brothers" with the stupid shirts could oblige you, but not me. [James has his smaller adversary down, so he steps right in to impose himself, picking up the flying Finn and grabbing him around the waist pulling both arms over his chest into a straightjacket position. From here, James nails a modified powerbomb which could best be described as a Straightjacket bomb, and leans into Hawk's legs for a pin of: 1...2... kickout! Pop for Icehawk's resiliency! A mildly frustrated James whips the Finn to a neutral corner, and charges in soon after him. Icehawk sees it coming and leaps into the air, still holding onto the buckle. James sees _that_ coming and slows down, hoping to catch Icehawk on his shoulder. Hawk sees _that_ coming and lets himself be caught, only to quickly snap his momentum backwards with a reverse DDT! Huge pop for the sequence! Hawk covers the prone co-titlist...] TD: One, two, we have...! No, Tiger Claw makes the diving save. SR: [abnormally relieved] Thank god, I was almost fifty bucks.... I mean, one of my favourite teams almost lost. TD: You bet fifty dollars on this match? SR: I think so. How much is ten thousand of these yen things in real money, Dross? [Icehawk is up quickly and scrambles towards the top rope, hoping to put James away with something daring, we assume. Casey hit his head hard and is moving slowly, just barely budging, as Icehawk starts to size him up. Finally, James struggles to his feet, and Icey leaps off for a flying cross-body... that James sidesteps! Icehawk is in mid-flight when James steps away, grabs him around the neck and hammers him with an inverted neckbreaker!] SR: That's the move, right Dross? TD: Syndi-Cutter! Icehawk just got laid out with the Syndi-Cutter! SR: Geez, they could hit that from anywhere. They could do it singly or     as a double-team thing. And judging from the wild response of these     Japanese morons, this'll become a pretty popular move. [James starts to go down for a cover, but changes his mind and nods to his partner. Claw heads right to the top turnbuckle, whie Casey runs over to tag him and make it all legal. He then holds his hands up for Claw to grab, and hrls him forward with a rocket launcher! But there's nobody home! Claw flops about on the mat, trying to get his bearings as Icehawk inches closer and closer to his corner.] SR: Come on, Claw, stop him! [Claw's finally got his head clear enough to start over towards enemy territory, so he slowly starts gaining on Icey as he gets closer and closer... Claw makes ready for one final lunge... he dives, but it pushes Icehawk forward into a tag! Claw gets to his feet, but is blitzed by a fresh Fitzgerald who fires punch after punch to Claw's jaw. Fitz doesn't slow down his barrage, whipping Claw to the ropes and catching him as he returns with a bear hug. Claw's really getting the life squeezed out of him, as Casey hammers on the mat with his foot to encourage his partner. Edmund keeps trying to squeeze harder and harder... but suddenly, his grip loosens a bit as Claw grabs at his neck in some kind of weird nerve hold.] TD: The only ever three-time Intercontinental champion... has slipped free! Martial arts kick to the knee of Edmund Fitzgerald, and he drops to one knee! SR: About now, Honey Fitz has a huge target right on him in the mind of     Tiger Claw. Claw's just gonna tag him. Knock him into tomorrow... well, coming to Japan kinda _did_ knock us into tomorrow. [Claw backs up a step, and fires in another harsh kick, this time to the bridge of the nose, that knocks Fitz over. Claw quickly turns his back to the fallen challenger, but only momentarily as he jumps into a standing moonsault and covers: 1 - 2 - Fitz gets a foot on the ropes, and the fans go mad! Claw hauls him right back to his feet, trying quickly to set up a snap suplex, but Fitz is quicker to block and lightning-fast in cradling Claw for two. The count isn't terribly close, but enough to worry Claw who starts towards his corner. Fitz grabs his ankle from behind to stop him, which seems to amuse a lot of the fans, though not the Harlequins. Surprisingly, they haven't even tried to interfere yet. Fitz reaches back for a tag, and Icehawk immediately catapults over the top rope to splash the extended leg of Claw. The move, although unorthodox, works to stop Claw's charge for his corner, and gets a decent pop too. Icehawk then picks Claw up, underhooking the arms as he does.] SR: Hey, don't copy the Skullpump! Gay guys aren't allowed to use that move! TD: Well, it doesn't matter, he used a Northern Lights suplex instead.     Here's a cover... one, two, no! I thought that had to be it! SR: You always think that. I swear, Dross, if you don't stop calling     every pin attempt as a sure thing I'll shoot you. [A frustrated Hawk runs off the opposite ropes as Claw starts getting up, coming back with a baseball slide to knock Claw out of the ring. Hawk decides to follow after him, leaping catlike to the top rope and springboarding towards the Thai grappler in a plancha. Claw is turned the right way to see Icehawk flying at him, but it's too late to do much more than brace himself for the impact. Both men go down hard, but as could be expected Hawk gets up first, and moves to whip Claw into the ringsteps. The whip's reversed, though, and Icehawk hits back first into the steel. Claw grabs him while he's still in agony and rolls the Scandanavian into the ring. Claw, instead of going back in with him, gets breifly in the ring to break the count then rolls right back out, heading to the top rope.] TD: We could see the Golden Tiger Strike, and if he hits it that should     end this title defense. SR: SHOULD end this title defense? You think Icefreak has any chance of     kicking out of the Golden F'n Tiger Strike?! That'd be like my     nephew's Little League team beating the Orioles. TD: What about the Braves? SR: I hate the Braves. It's in the standard IIWF contract that you have     to hate the Braves. [Claw's gotten to the top, so he leaps off with a flying kneedrop as flashbulbs go off in insane numbers. Claw archs gracefully through the air, and Icehawk still isn't moving... the Golden Tiger Strike hits! Claw goes for a cover... but here comes Fitzgerald into the ring for a save! Claw gets back up to confront him and gets dropped with a right hand. Official Chuck Sanders seems to be letting this all go, so James runs into the ring only to be sucker punched himself. Claw gets back up and goes down yet again, and again James charges. Fitz grabs the former World champ's hair as he goes by, and uses his momentum to toss him out over the top rope. Finally, Sanders steps in to get rid off the non-legal man, and at the same time Icehawk is getting back up and pulling himself to the corner. Claw is still down.] TD: Icehawk is going to the top rope, and he is the legal man... he's got Claw all lined up now for an Arctic Blast! SR: Why is he waiting? I knew he wasn't the brightest banana in the bunch, but what is he trying to prove? [Icehawk is indeed waiting for something, which we realize when he looks at the camera and says "This one's for you, Outlaw!". Finally, he jumps off with the Arctic Blast... and misses! Claw rolls out of the way!] SR: Tiger Claw was playing possum! I love that guy! TD: Claw is making a cover... Sanders dives into position... one... two... SR: Three! The Syndicate aren't paper champs, Dross! [Icehawk rolls dejectedly out of the ring, clutching at his head to meet up with his partner while the retaining champs are celebrating in the ring. Sparkplug Lee, who throught the match had been trying to get his special Japanese edition Playboy back, gives up and makes the official announcement.] SL: The winners, and STILL IIWF Tag Team champions, Tiger Claw and Casey "Blackheart" James, the Syndicate! [The two champs grab their titles, and take theirs up to the top turnbuckles to show off, each man in an opposite corner of the ring. The reaction from the crowd is mixed to say the least, but has that ever bothered these two before?] TD: Both teams are clearing out of the ring area now... The Syndicate had their doubters, but they've proved in a normal tag match tonight that they can beat Cold Spell. Icehawk and Fitz seem to have something to settle with Genesis and maybe the Phoenix... are they in or out? SR: They're both out, Dross. Look at them, you can tell by the way they talk. TD: I'm not sure I understand what you mean. SR: Let me just say one thing... the Syndicate looked cohesive as your     toupee and your head. Not even a tank could knock them apart. In your case, some weird sap-like glue holds the ferret on, in their case the glue is mutual trust and respect. TD: [somewhat irritated] Are you going anywhere with this? SR: I'm trying. Now, if the Syndicate are cohesive, and here comes my     point, that's bad news for any other tag team. These guys could be     champions for a long time. TD: That's always possible, but the IIWF does have great competition.     Case in point: this next matchup, which features the current Cruiserweight Champion against a former Intercontinental titleholder. SR: Well, that's special, Dross.  You know the title history of the IIWF. Give the man a raise! TD: [ignoring Soundbite's taunts] Marty Warnett and Derek Mota aren't total strangers to each other, they fought a few months ago.  Of course, it ended as a double countout, so the question of who's better didn't get answered then -- but hopefully it will tonight. SR: No, hopefully tonight I'll be able to get me some of those hentai anime videos, so I can sell them back in the States.  Ah yes, the land of opportunity. TD: Is there a black market for them, Steve? SR: Maybe, maybe not.  Either way, they're going to be second hand copies after I get through with them.  I've gotta get Claw to recommend some. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| NON-TITLE: Derek Mota vs. Marty Warnett |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: MB ["Cold Gin" bursts over the speakers all around the Egg Dome, and a loud chant of "Party Maniac!"  Marty Warnett emerges from the wrestler entrance, and slaps hands along the elevated aisleway, right down to ringside.  He climbs the turnbuckles from the outside, and jumps into the ring.] SR: Did it just get dumber in here? TD: Steve, stop that. SR: I wonder how Warnett's liked the trip so far?  Probably hated it. After all, what are the chances of Mooselips being available over here? TD: Actually, I happened to see Marty just before takeoff, and he had a cooler full of Mooseli... SR: Dross, I wasn't giving you an opening for a lame comedy bit. TD: Of course not, that's your department. [The crowd, seemingly never content for enough wrestling action, begins to deliver a heel pop as Derek Mota's music, "The Great Southern Trendkill" by Pantera, comes forth from the PA system.  Mota walks down the elevated ramp to the ring, wearing the Cruiserweight Title around his waist and grinning like a Cheshire cat at the thousands of japanese fans around him, all calling for his blood.] TD: It doesn't seem like Derek Mota's too big a hit here in Tokyo. SR: Figures, all these people care about are idiots jumping around in rainbow coloured costumes with stupid masks, horns, and long coloured hair. Oh, that, and drunken idiots like Warnett.  They don't give tough little bastards like Mota any credit. TD: Steve, need I remind you that this is prime time?  And besides, that's not true.  Japan has had a history of supporting men just like Derek Mota, as well as the more colourful side of the sport. SR: Colour?  You want colour, Dross?  I'll add some colour to the show. [BLEEP] [BLEEP] [BLEEP] TD: I guess it was a good idea to bring the seven second delay crew along after all. [Sparkplug Lee stands in the ring while the referee does his best to keep Warnett and Mota in separate corners.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is a non-title match.  First, on my left and hailing from Cardiff, Wales... MARTY WARNETT! [Warnett stands on the second turnbuckle again and raises his arms, pumping them out to the crowd.  It draws a decent pop from the normally stone-faced crowd.] SL: And his opponent, from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, and the current IIWF Cruiserweight Champion... DEREK MOTA! [Mota does the same thing, but is almost blasted off his perch with the size of heel pop that is received.  The bell rings, and instantly both men run to the center of the ring and lock up.  In their haste to get the match going, poor Sparkplug is knocked down by a Mota shove.  He rolls out of the ring and takes a seat at ringside, red-faced the whole time.] SR: Hey, that's the first physical exertion he's had in a while! [Mota controls the opening of the match with a legsweep out of the collar and elbow lockup, and then tries to force Marty's shoulders to the mat with sheer power.  Warnett uses his legs to flip Mota off his feet and returns to his own, but Mota springs up quickly and tries an irish whip to the ropes.  Warnett leapfrogs over and then comes back with a dropkick, knocking Mota down.  Marty grabs him in a headlock, but Derek grabs Marty's waist and picks him up, runs into the corner and leaps using the momentum to jump onto, then back off of, the second rope.  Marty gets dumped on his head from a fairly high position, and the champion grabs the leg and attempts the pinfall.  No dice, the Party Maniac kicks out at two and then kicks Mota off of a figure four attempt.  Marty takes a fistdrop in the face, and then Mota goes to the top rope for a flying headbutt.  He lands it, and rolls Warnett out of the ring to the floor.  He perches again on the top rope, but Marty blindly manages to get out of the way of Mota, who hits the guardrail in a self-inflicted hotshot.] SR: Damn, that's gotta hurt! TD: And _I_ have poor skills in grasping the obvious? [Marty grabs Mota by the head and throws him into the ringpost, then leaps and catches with a cross bodyblock against the steel post.  Mota slumps and Warnett seems to get a rush of adrenaline, throwing Mota back through the ropes and then slingshots himself back in, landing on top of the champion with a splash.  A cover, but Mota kicks out before the referee gets to three and the crowd pops slightly.  Warnett drags Mota by the feet to the middle of the ring and executes a slingshot of a different kind, sending Mota straight into the top turnbuckle.  The cocky champion falls flat on his face to the mat again, and now Warnett grabs him and places him in a bow-and-arrow submission hold, straining to give as much pressure as he can.  Somehow Mota escapes the hold after only a minute, unhooking Warnett's grip and he flops to the mat again, face first.  Marty picks him up by the hair and positions him for a powerbomb, but rather than lifting at the stomach, he simply takes Mota's legs out from under him and drops the champion to the mat once more -- you guessed it -- face first.] TD: A new move from Marty Warnett?  What do you suppose he calls it? SR: Probably the Hangover. TD: That's rather uncreative, Steve, especially for you. SR: Well, I haven't told you why he calls it that.  It's called the Hangover because he's got one right now, and forgot what the hell he was trying to do in the first place! TD: I rest my case. [Mota, having taken three falls with his face, seems semi-conscious, not moving much.  Warnett again pulls him to his feet, and this time after an Irish whip Mota manages to take Warnett to the mat with a rocker dropper. Now both lie on the mat unmoving, and the referee lays a count on them to see if either can continue.  Mota stirs first, but Warnett actually beats him to his feet, and rushes towards the canadian.  Mota backdrops Warnett clear out of the ring, then bounces across the ring and comes over the top rope in a somersault plancha, coming right down on top of the Party Maniac. The crowd roars with delight at the high risk move.  Meanwhile, out in the crowd a group of teenagers-to-early-twenties become visible on the video screens above the ring, spreading out within the crowd.  One camera angle of them catches a shot of their t-shirts which read: "IIWF Ring Wars IV: 8 November 1997.  He's Back."] TD: He's back?  Who's he?  What are they talking about? SR: Ain't it obvious, Dross?  We've already seen him lately -- it's the Outlaw!  He's officially coming back at Ring Wars, that's gotta be it. TD: Steve, we've already had this discussion.  That was Casey James under the mask, not Mr. Hardin.  For all we know, it could be the Man of Steel returning. SR: Yeah right, Dross.  Like they'd let him out of the Betty Ford Clinic -- although, damn it, they let out the Drifters. Why doesn't he just team up with Warnett here as a tag team?  They could call themselves Drunk with Power.  Of course, the "Power" is a lie, but... [Mota, having taken the least of the damage from the move, is up first and grabs a table from under the ring, and sets it up at ringside.  Warnett isn't sure of what's going on anymore, and allows Mota to easily place him on the table without a struggle.  The champion wisely rolls under the ropes to restart the count, then back to the floor.  He steps up onto the table and lays a few kicks into the side of Warnett's torso, then drops a knee across his chest.  He's able to step off the table and onto the ramp, then takes a fair sized distance for a running start and flings himself onto his opponent with a flying somersault splash.  The table cracks and splits in the middle, sending both through it to the floor.  Again the crowd roars, but the cheers are soon replaced by angry boos when they see Billy Shakespeare start to walk down the ramp.] SR: Say Dross, what gives?  I thought these morons liked Warnett?  Why are they booing a friend of his? TD: Unlike the north american fans, fans over here don't like to see matches spoiled by interference of any kind.  I suppose seeing Billy out here just makes them nervous of a non-decision. [To his credit, Shakespeare simply walks to one side of the ring as Mota rolls Marty in on the other side.  He goes for another pin, but a stunning kickout electrifies the crowd, and gives Marty another wind.  Mota senses it too and tries to kick Marty down, but the Party Maniac is already struggling to get to his feet, and bounces off the ropes with a shoulderblock.  Billy pounds the mat and leads the crowd in another "Party Maniac" chant, while Marty makes sure that Mota now can't get up, meeting him at every try with a clothesline or a dropkick.  Warnett grabs Mota in a headlock, but spins behind him and executes a dragon suplex, taking the Canadian to the mat with a pin attempt.  Mota barely survives the attempt, and rolls out of the ring for a breather while Warnett gets even stronger, feeding off the cheers of the crowd.  Mota tries stepping back up onto the apron, and avoids a swinging punch with a right hook of his own.  He delivers a sunset flip over the ropes and gets Warnett's shoulders down for two, but the former IC champ manages a kickout before the win goes to Mota.] SR: Brad Kinder! TD: Pardon? SR: Brad Kinder.  It's gotta be him, that's who's comin' back at Ring Wars.  This is gonna be great! TD: I'd like to take this time to point out to the fans who are watching this, although my partner here has a wild imagination, there is no clue as to who is coming back on 8 November, if anyone at all.  Though if it was Brad Kinder, I'm sure Miss LaRue would be pleased. SR: Yeah, but Sparkplug Lee could please _her_. [Mota, back inside the ring, has Warnett in a side headlock until taking a side suplex to the mat.  However, he springs back to his feet and delivers a wicked headbutt to Marty, grabs his hand and leaps onto the top rope, then comes off with a frankensteiner over the ropes!  The crowd explodes with yet another pop for the death-defying move, from which Mota emerges unscathed.  So too does Warnett though, who grabs Mota from behind and chucks him back under the ropes, then climbs to the top rope.  Mota joins him there and kicks Warnett in the head, then yells to Billy Shakespeare that he's about to see a Bodyplex.  As he's talking, Marty manages to make him fall off, and Warnett falls on top at the same time, covering.] TD: One, two... it's -- oh my, he managed to kick out! SR: One tough little bas... TD: [interrupting] How does he do it? [Mota struggles to stand, then glares at Shakespeare as if it was Billy's fault that his move didn't succeed.  Then, without warning, Derek Mota crosses the ring and dives through the ropes in a suicide dive head topé... aiming for Billy, but missing entirely.] SR: He just took a wicked header out of the ring, Dross!  It's Shakespeare's fault that Warnett's going to win. TD: How do you figure that?  Billy didn't provoke Mota, he was just standing there! [Marty Warnett, upon seeing Mota hit the ground hard, catapults himself over the ropes to the floor, and proceeds to check the condition of the Cruiserweight Champion.  Mota is down, but not out as a rake to Warnett's eyes prove.  Mota grabs Warnett by the throat, and the two begin to pummel each other up the aisleway, forgetting about the count.  The referee has no choice to call for the bell, as Billy Shakespeare walks up the aisle past the brawling twosome, back to the locker rooms.  However he doesn't quite make it, as he's greeted by an old friend.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has declared this match a DOUBLE COUNTOUT! TD: Ronnie Paris has just come out, and now he and Billy Shakespeare are going at it! SR: Get him, Paris! Whip that Steamboat Willie up and down the ramp! [Paris grabs Billy by the head and delivers a wicked european uppercut, then punches Billy in the stomach and sets up for a piledriver right on the ramp.  Nearby, Mota and Warnett continue to trade insults and punches, but a standing dropkick from Warnett floors the champion and allows Marty to save Shakespeare from the devastating move.  Paris takes a clothesline onto his butt, and then Billy leaps on him with his fists a flailing.  The Jobber Justice Squad manages to come out and break up both fights, but in the process the Gecko is tossed off the ramp and into the crowd.] SR: Look, Dross, the Gecko is crowdsurfing! TD: It seems as though you _can_ hurt the lizard -- look at what the crowd's doing to him! [The Barnacle Brothers manage to pull the Gecko out of the crowd, but as a result his clothes are torn, and his mask is half off.  The crowd begins to quiet down as all four of the brawlers are led away. Cut back to the broadcast table in the ringside enclosure.] TD: Well, folks, that brings us to the end of our first explosive hour -- but we'll be right back in just a few moments with more tremendous IIWF action, kicking off our second hour with comments from the man who, just two weeks ago at Midsummer Madness, was, in the eyes of many, robbed of the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship by Casey James... SR: [interrupting] It wasn't Casey James, Dross. TD: Be that as it may, you can be sure that Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven is going to have some strong words for whomever it was under that "Outlaw" mask. Don't go away, folks -- we'll be right back! [Cut to a wide-angle shot of the arena. Fade.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Jim Jividen | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | brokeback@webtv.net | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+