________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| |\ /| /\ |\ | | /\ \ / | || | \ v v / | __| | v |/ \| \| __| /__\ \/ |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| | |\ /| |/ |/ \/ | | \/ | |\_// /\ |\ /| | _ | / __ / __ | v | | | / \ . |\ | / \ / \ | | | | \__ | | \| | __ \__ 22 September 1997| | | | \ | | | \__| \ .....................|..v_____/.|.|..|____|____/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Requiem ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Requiem limps slightly as he enters the IIWF interview area, an unusually grim expression is writ large across his clean-shaven face. His eyes reveal nothing, however, as they are hidden behind black sunglasses] RQ: Joe Petrow, I give you full credit. You are indeed a mad bastard. I think I finally had you, Joe, but now we'll never know, because some guy in an "Outlaw" outfit saw fit to interfere. Would I have won without his interference? Maybe. Would you have won? Maybe. Kind of hard to say for certain, isn't it, Joe? Regardless, you gave me a hell of a fight, and I'd gladly put the belt on the line against you again. I already know what some of the wrestlers and fans are gonna say. "Oh, hey, Requiem's bought off that fake Outlaw guy. He's the newest member of Genesis" or some similar crap, and I for one am getting fed up with it. Ladies, and I am addressing myself now to the wrestlers of the IIWF, I stood toe to toe with Joe Petrow tonight, and I'm still standing, despite a painful STF. You know, I give credit where credit is due. Otto Verhoeven, I'm more than happy to stand here and say you gave me one hell of a run for my money. In fact, I've even stood in front of a camera and admitted that you _should_ have won. Joe Petrow, you're one hell of a wrestler, and I'd gladly paint it on the roof of the Egg Dome for all the world to see. I've had nothing but good to say for the wrestling ability of the vast majority of my opponents. And yet, even when I've beaten one of you near unconscious all on my lonesome, every single one of you persists in the belief that, "Requiem is nothing without help from his Genesis buddies". Well, I can wrestle, you bastards. By god, I can wrestle. I step in the ring each and every time, and I prove it. And each and every time you still maintain I'm completely helpless without my friends in Genesis. Well, I'm going to do something that will hopefully disabuse you of that notion, right here and right now. Something that will make me more of a target than I already am. Something that will have low-life like Brody Thunder salivating over their chewing tobacco. I'm quitting Genesis. That's right, Requiem walks alone. Requiem. With his nice shiny gold belt. I'm a sitting target, and I don't have my friends in Genesis to protect me. Might as well paint a bullseye on me, boys. Brody Thunder? Steve Kowalski? Any other sonofabitch who thinks I'm an easy target? Any idiot who thinks that the belt is around the waist of a man who can't hold on to it? Come and get me. I don't care if I keep the belt or not, I will _prove_ to the complete and utter satisfaction of every single living being on Earth, if need be, that Requiem is indeed a force to be reckoned with. And a force to be _feared_! Scott? Adam? Serge? Fitz and 'Hawk? This is something I've got to do, guys, to finally prove to each and every bastard in the IIWF that I've got what it takes, and by all that's unholy I'm going to. But that doesn't mean that I'm discarding Genesis like an old rag. Hell, No! I hope we're still going to be friends, and friends look after each other. Requiem stands alone. But if you need me for anything, I'll be there for ya! Oh, and masked man? You ruined my chance to show the world I can beat a world class athlete like Joe Petrow without help from my colleagu... sorry, former colleagues. For that, you're going to have to pay. Pray that I never find out who you truly are. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Sychosys" Joe Petrow ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Backstage after the match. "Sychosys" Joe Petrow stands, a stuffed duffel bag resting on his shoulder. He speaks softly to the camera.] JP: Like all warriors that don't get themselves killed in battle, before the flesh dies, the spirit dies. The body that is left behind is merely an empty shell, waiting for Father Time to claim it for his own. Tonight, that time came to me. Perhaps, my soul should be filled with rage. Perhaps my very being should be baying for revenge. But it is not. I've given everything I have. Over the past few months, I gave away my health, my confidence, and at times, even my sanity, for this one shot. Tonight, I gave the one thing I had left. My soul. To gain the belt I hoped would reciprocate it all. But I don't have it. And I cannot feel anything but emptyness anymore. So I am staying. I am staying at my home. I will not compete. I cannot compete. "Majestic" Maurice McArthur has agreed to fulfill all of my contractual obligations for me, and I thank him for it. You have been a true friend, 3M, and if I could, I'd miss you. I am alive, but now I must try to find a soul so that I may live. And the desire to once again compete in the IIWF. To those who loved me, I thank you. To those who hated me, I thank you. To those who felt nothing towards me one way or the other... I'm sorry. I tried. [With that, Petrow walks silently out of the shot. Fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Creed ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade up on the makeshift IIWF interview area at the Egg Dome in Tokyo, Japan; where we find, seated on a slightly dented crimson steel chair, a man who should be more than a little familiar to IIWF fans over the past year...and a man who just reintroduced himself to anyone who may have forgotten the way he plays the game.... The man known as Creed.] CR: Miss me? Tell the truth, now. Didn't ya, jus' a little bit, maybe when you were watching the Gimmicks play with the Has Beens over the last couple of months... Didn't ya miss the man with the red glove? Me... couldn't care less. Most of y'all no damn good anyway. But for whoever payin' attention... there gonna be a lot less missin' and a lot more hittin' goin' on comin' up real soon. Real damn soon. But I ain't gonna talk about that now. Next Saturday Night... from Calgary... I gonna tell you all 'bout where Creed been. ... 'Bout where Creed going... And 'bout who Creed going to beat next. Next Saturday. I know none of y'all wanna miss me then. [Creed stands, grabbing the crimson chair then [pausing before he exits the shot -- turning back to the camera.] Oh... Quigley... Case you forgot. We even. We even, Quigley. 'Less you maybe don' want to be. Then... then... we won't be even no more. I be ahead. Get that, Quigley? You get that, IIWF? I am Creed. And I am back. [Creed slings the chair over his shoulder, staring dead into the camera as the shot fades.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Thunder walks into the IIWF interview area with Mad Dog Watkins and Steve Kowalski. All three are laughing. Kowalski and Watkins continue walking into the locker room area but Thunder, noticing the camera, pauses in front of it. Wringing his hands, he smiles that devilish grin and begins to speak...] BT: How's it feel, Genesis? How's it feel knowin' that there's somebody else in this flamin' organization who can play the same game as you? Somebody who can pull the same dirty tricks an' tactics that y'all use? [Thunder wipes his mouth and chin but the smile remains.] BT: Did ya think I was foolin' when I said men like Watkins, Kowalski an' I are the future o'this fed. Why? 'Cuz we're gonna take out the trash... startin' with you, Genesis. I could hear the air leave the lungs o' alla o' them idjits in the stands when we walked that aisle tonight. It's no secret that Watkins an' I ain't bosom buddies an' I like Kowalski even less. But the simple fact o' the matter is... we do _need_ each other. It's the same principle that Genesis employs... strength in numbers. Well, boys...the playin' field jus' got a little more level. Things are gonna be a l'il different from now. Are ya lis'nin', Requiem? Annis? Highwayman? From now on this game's fer keeps an' you boys don't make the rules any more. Lemme make it real clear fer ya. If ya jump one o' ours in the locker room... we trash one o' yers in the parkin' lot. If ya attack one o' ours in the ring... we'll put one' o' yers on a gurney. If ya put one o' ours in the hospital... [Thunder's smile widens...] BT: ...we put one o' yers in the morgue. It's jus' that simple. We jus' upped the ante fellas. The stakes are much higher now. The flamin' future o' the IIWF is on the line an' while I ain't got no love fer that penguin-lovin', donut-eatin' Spreadbury... he signs my checks. That makes it _my_ business. 'Sides... that's _my_ belt yer rentin'... an' I ain't fergot about _that_ bit o' business either, "champ". So Requiem... "big man"... ...better circle them lackeys o' yers. The posse jus' arrived an' we ain't takin' no prisoners. Ya ain't talkin' ta no greenhorn group o'rookies now, smart-ass. Yer dealin' with men now. Men who'd dent yer squash jus' fer grins an' not think twice 'bout it. Men who'd like nuthin' better'n ta dismantle yer lil empire an' expose ya fer the clowns ya are. Men who'd like ta knock ya offa yer precious pedestal, "champ," an' watch as ya come crashin' back ta the reality that you boys ain't the big guns ya think ya are. Men... [Thunder's smile disappears,replaced by a stoic stare.] ...who'd send ya back ta whatever pit ya call home with yer ass in a sling an' the memory o' the beatin' ya couldn't prevent. It ain't a matter o' _if_ it'll happen, hoss... [Thunder chuckles to himself and winks at the camera.] ...jus' _when_. I'm bettin' it's soon. _Real_ soon. Remember what I always say, Requiem... ya can't be the dealer... 'less yer holdin' _all_ the cards. Be seein' ya, "big man". [Thunder turns and walks off towards the locker room area. Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Syndicate ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Casey and Claw enter the shot chuckling at something or another.] CJ: Queen 3:16 says we're the champions. Cold Spell? You ain't. [Both men burst into laughter and begin to walk off stage. As if from an afterthought, Casey hangs back for a few seconds.] CJ: And Otto? Thanks for the vote of confidence. There's a shortage of stand-up guys these days, and it's nice to see that there's someone still on my side. Buck up, big guy... We all know who the _real_ world champ is... Well, besides me... but you know what I mean. [Casey exits stage right. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Cold Spell ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The IIWF interview set, just after the wild brawl to end Saturday night's show. Icehawk looks furious, but is cut off by Edmund Fitzgerald before he has a chance to say anything.] EF: Well, now I guess we know the truth, don't we? For weeks now, I've been trying to calm Icehawk down, and tell him he was wrong about Genesis. But I guess the kid was right, and I was wrong. I don't care that you guys decided to recruit Casey James. After all, even though he is scum, he's one of the most dominating athletes in our sport. But you didn't even have the guts to tell us what was going on, and then you sold us out to get him. I thought it might just have been a bad night when Serge, Highway and Scott folded their tents at the PPV and cost us the belts, but tonight showed me the truth. When Requiem got in trouble, we all raced out there to save his useless ass - but when we were battling the Syndicate, there wasn't a Genesis member in sight. [Icehawk, who has been bouncing with emotion during this, finally explodes.] IH: That's right! Every time I turn around, it's "let's go save Requiem" or "let's go save Scott" or Serge or Highway or whatever. And now the fans hate us, and our friends hate us, and what thanks do we get? As soon as you find a chance to recruit Casey James, you just dump us. Well, don't think that Genesis has heard the end of Cold Spell. EF: And neither has the rest of the IIWF. We are alone now - no friends and no allies. And that's fine with me. That just means there won't be any distractions from the Triple Threat match Saturday. IH: That reminds me. Machines, you are new here, and you might not know your IIWF history. You might not want to get in between us and the Harlequins this weekend. There is still a _lot_ of unfinished business there. [Icehawk and Fitz start to leave the set, but Icehawk turns back with an evil smile on his face.] IH: Comedy, the man of your dreams is coming back Saturday. I know you've missed me. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Derek Mota ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Derek Mota walks onto the set immediately after his match with Marty Warnett. Sweat is pouring down his face, as he proceeds to buckle the IIWF Cruiserweight Title back around his waist.) DM: Hey Warnett, that's two matches between us now, and two double countouts. What the hell is that? There must be somethin' about you that makes me wanna leave the ring during our matches ... must be all that cheap cologne you're wearin'! Let's just end it like this, boy. We're gonna meet again in the ring, and next time leave the perfume at home. I wanna end it in the ring. And what, now they tell me I gotta fight this jobber Dexter St. Croix? What have you done to earn a shot at this title? Who've you beaten? I just remember seein' ya squashed by that fat useless piece o' crap they call Tonnage, and then losin' ta Simon Lebec a few weeks ago. And that gives you a title shot? Well, punk, you'll realize that facin' Derek Mota ain't somethin' you wanna do just yet, cause I don't pull no punches for rookies. So you go smoke up somewhere, dreamin' about the Cruiser title around your waist. I'm going ta Ring Wars IV the champ, and I'm gonna be leavin' the champ. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Timothy N. Turner ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Timothy N. Turner slowly walks into the temporary IIWF interview area that has been set up backstage at the Tokyo Egg Dome. He is followed closely by his brother Tom and his former partner, Akira Saito.] TT: Today the IIWF was robbed of one of the biggest treats in the history of the federation. Timothy N. Turner going after the Cruiserweight Title. I brought my brother, Tom, and my former partner, and Tom's current partner, Akira, away from their busy schedule in SJPW to watch and what happened? I WAS ROBBED! Luke Steele! I hold you personally responsible for this! That whining little Paris was no match for my skill and expertise but you interfered! You are lucky that Mota pulled you away because you were seconds away from the worst beating of your life! On Wednesday I get to thrash Subway Psycho while Steele is going down to my good friend, Duncan Macbeth. For now, however, I'm putting in an unscheduled appearance on the free portion of SJPW's pay per view. They must figure that having an IIWF Superstar will increase their buy-rate or something. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Simon Lebec ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera opens with "The Showstopper" Simon Lebec, reviewing a tape of Midsummer Madness.] SL: Ya see? That's where I went wrong! Never take your eye off the man! [The tape continues to roll, as Lebec continues to study it.] SL: And there... should've had the three! [Lebec looks into the camera] SL: But Shakespeare... come Saturday night... I WILL get the three, now won't I? Ya see, Billy-boy... it's been a long time comin' for you and me. A long time! I remember Coronation Clash... I remember our battle one warm Saturday night... I remember our four-way-dance. And ya know something else, Spur? I remember that you didn't have much behind you... just a lot of hot air masked by some pretty words. At the Madness, I almost tasted the gold. At the Madness, I decided to go back to the basics. Well, Billy-boy... the night is coming for you and me to hook up once more... one more time. Probably not the last... but definitely the most important match to date. This match... will propel me to greatness... and you... into a whirlwind decline to Nowheresville! [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Scott Rogers ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The familiar IIWF backdrop with Scott Rogers, wearing a denim shirt with a purple tie, standing in front. This appears to be taking place before the main event on Saturday Night, therefore immediately after Quigley's defeat of Mad Dog Watkins. Muffled celebrations can be heard. Rogers' dyed black hair is neatly cropped and his face clean shaven. He looks off set and shakes his head, disdainfully, but grins as he speaks.] SR: So Quigley's finally won himself a title. So let's all take a week off to celebrate. [Rogers laughs.] SR: Listen, Quigley, I ain't a happy man right now. And I'm gonna tell ya why whether ya wanna know or not. The title you're wearing belongs 'round _my_ waist. And I'm hearin' rumors now that me title shot this Wednesday in that [BLEEP]hole you call 'home' ain't even a title shot! Seems like the suits're tryin' to keep the belt away from Genesis, see. Yeah, I'll agree Smith blew his chances o' winnin' the belt at Midummers, but, Quigley, I ain't Smith. I'm Scott Rogers and Scott Rogers don't take no crap from no-one, includin' the suits o' the IIWF. But if I've calmed down my Wednesday, Quigley, I may be 'nice' to ya and send Sergey Annis in just to give you a watered down taste of _me_. The worst mistake o' your life was winnin' that belt, Quigley, 'cause now you got one o' the big boys after ya. And Steele... [again disdainfully] Shut up... [Rogers laughs again then walks off set. Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Serge Annis ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera fades into the IIWF locker room with the 6'8" "Epitome of Evil" Serge Annis sitting on a bench. Serge is wearing a simple pair of black jeans and boots. A wet towel is wrapped over the massive shoulders of the wrestler, and trickles water down his chest and arms. Serge is looking down at the floor, not appearing to notice the camera's presence. There are a few cuts and scrapes on the arms and chest of Serge, as a result of the brawl at the end of Saturday Night. Serge speaks in a low tone of voice.] SA: It would appear that the old generation have taken some steps to defend their sacred heritage... and that is fine. A fight is always welcome to the Epitome of Evil. [Serge looks up to the camera now. A small gash on his forehead reveals a small line of red crimson blood running down the Epitome's face. The blood runs over the scar on Annis' cheek. Annis stares his icy blue eyes straight into the camera with a look of sheer, intense hatred.] SA: I was Skullpumped tonight on the floor, and it hurt. But what does not kill me... makes me stronger. I give Kowalski his due, as it proved to be quite the offensive tool. But tonight, Genesis may have been handed several defeats. Cold Spell lost their match, and Highwaymen ends up counted out. Well, I will not begin to discuss my feelings for Cold Spell... and Highwayman was robbed. But Requiem retains the title over the people's champion, Joe Petrow. Heh... fitting. Petrow's people are nothing more than the scum that oppose the Genesis Generation. [Serge looks down, and then wipes the blood from his forehead. A new trail of blood slowly drips down once more as Serge re-foccuses his look to the camera.] SA: I've made a lot of enemies in the IIWF since joining Genesis, and a lot of those enemies will be in the battle royal on Saturday Night. Let us see what the Epitome of Evil truly means... heh heh. Saturday Night, Serge Annis will make a lasting impression, on the IIWF. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Phoenix ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade in on The Phoenix in the IIWF interview area immediately following Saturday night's card.] TP: Another week... another "business as usual" week in the IIWF... [The Phoenix points his index finger directly at the camera.] TP: We all know that Joe Petrow should have walked from that ring tonight as the new IIWF World Heavyweight Champion. While he may walk with the spirit of storms, Petrow is man enough to stand on his own, but Genesis once again relied on their masked "thug" to keep the belt around Requiem's waist. Well, in the spirit of Joe Petrow, I'm asking... no, I'm _demanding_ that the IIWF front office give me a match with this masked man. I don't care if it is Casey James, Deathbringer, or someone else pretending to be the original Masked Outlaw... [The Phoenix pulls his mask off and stares into the camera.] TP: ...it is time for you to pay! [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Tonnage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Tonnage's home gym. Louie is beating on the heavy bag in the background, while the big man is sitting on the weight bench.] T: Welcome back. Hope you aren't too busy this week; I'm sure running around like this is annoying in the extreme. I'll try to be more accommodating to your schedule next time. Anyway, I suppose I should give a short reply to Starks and his cronies. Now, it's no great shocker to me that the runt would get his bum-chums to do his fighting for him. Terror does that to people. What does bother me is that two men whom I thought were great competitors turned out to be backstabbing lowlifes too. I thought that two upstanding Haligonians would be outraged at Streak even suggesting such a thing. Prophets of Rage, you really disappointed me. I was under the impression that you were better than that. Obviously, by your actions, you aren't native to the Halifax area. Probably from Toronto or something. No respectable Nova Scotian would engage in that sort of behavior without good reason, and fellas, there wasn't any sort of a good reason in this case. For shame. It kinda seems like every so called superstar whom I get in the ring takes the quickest and dirtiest way out of the match. I've had people duck and dodge me before, but never with such frequency. Is this what they mean by the "greatest" fed around? The one with the most cowards? It's one thing to cheat, in order to take the advantage in a match, but just to run away? I hope the rest of you have gone to a few Backpedalers Anonymous meetings, because I'm not going to waste my time with you if you aren't even going to put up a fight. I guess we'll see whether Otto has the stuff or not, eh? But I'll talk more about that later. For the time being, pal, that's all I have to say. Ta ta! [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Prophets Of Rage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The Prophets of Rage stand backstage. Shadoe Rage is spinning in circles in his black sequined shirt, clapping and bowing to the camera, making a great show of being impressed. Medusa and Pizzazz merely have simple smiles. Derek allows a smirk. He raises his big hands to the camera and starts to clap.] DR: Seems everywhere we turn now the old ghosts are rising up out of their graveyards. Maybe being an award-winning tag-team does something for you. Maybe it makes others try to get that little taste of glory. Let them chant to the heavens "I beat the Prophets." Damage, Inc. You'd have been more impressive if you just jumped us from in front like some real thugs. But you had to prove yourselves to be some low-class bitches, trying to get us from behind. You can rewind the tape. Yeah, you'll see the surprise in our eyes. Alex, Eddy, Je, we never thought we'd see you again. We figured you'd just disappeared into dust. That's what happens to old tag teams, isn't it? MR: And old managers. Je, darling, if you can't grow your hair out don't make us all laugh with that tired old weave. I mean really, you need to come better organised than that. Tighten your stuff up, girl. You're going to have to if you ever try to pull a stunt like that. [Medusa flexes a biceps for the camera. The muscle ripples.] MR: You know, I'm not just a manager, but a competitor, a wrestler in my own right. I'd love nothing better than to chump you out in front of everyone. You guys are finally back from the dead. I don't know why you even want to bother calling our names out. You ran and hid from us the last time, preferring to give up your belts to the Player's Club than face the humiliation of being beaten by the premier Black organisation in the IIWF. See, your time in the spotlight is over. Nobody's talking about you little N'awlins gutter rats any more. Hell, you can't even hold your own with me on the mic, can you, Je? Face it, this is the IIWF. You don't have the old stroke you used to in the NCWF and the FWLI. You won't get any backroom favours. What you get is a date with the most dangerous tag-team in wrestling today. And rookies, I'm going to enjoy watching you get pinned in the centre of the ring. Nobody in all of wrestling has made as much a pastime of collecting title belts as the Prophets of Rage, IFWF, IIWF, IEWF, a whole heap of defunct leagues. Everyday people fax us, phone us asking us to sign a contract with their organisation and lead them to prosperity. Do you really think anybody remembers who you are? I don't think so. SR: Freak out! Freak out! Outta sight outta mind. That's the phrase. When you die who's gonna remember you? See, you can troop in with all the Reunited noise you want. But this is the Age of the RAge right here. And there is no way your little corporation can damage us. No way, no chance. See, the Prophets of Rage have been blessed with the drive and the fire. We're in the midst of a run that won't ever end. And won't ever be ended. Yeah, this is our turn in the spotlight and if you think you're going to use us as a springboard back to respectability on our backs you've got another thing coming. See, this is a hard federation to get ahead in. Ask anybody who's ever stepped in our way. And now that you want to step up to bat and face the family. [Rage enjoys a maniacal laugh] Ramos, Porteaux, we're gonna be beatin' you and beatin' you and beatin' you. You won't like me I'll hit ya while wifey is wit ya! You heard of us the most shady... fantastic... drastic... trying to be bigger than Jurassic Park. Y'all know the source. Y'all know the flavour. We pronounced you dead at the scene almost one year ago. Now, it's time to turn out the lights on the bodies. Damage, Incorporated, prepare to incorporate this damage. You started a war you can't ever win. Because we'll be there at every match in every way in every means possible. You won't know. You won't have a chance against this onslaught. You'll be turned to ashes and dust. And the Prophets of Rage, in us they trust. Bet on the Prophets to end your game before it even begins. You will die in darkness. DR: Don't think we ever had to tell you that, did we? Say goodnight to your fame. Your destiny is in my hand. SR: And the Hammer of God says the sentence is... DR: Death. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Natural Predators ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The Natural predators, Wolf and Bear, sit at an Au Bon Pain, eating breakfast. Joined by their manager, Kuyler Grayson] KG: So...now we talk strategy, boys. W : Seems like we're not overly popular with the announcers yet. KG: Ah, happens. Either you let it bug you, or you prove them wrong. B : So who's our first match against? KG: Hasn't been announced yet. Looking forward to the competition here? W: The spirits have favored us this far, Kuyler...I'd like to know just what we're up against, though. KG: Well, look at teams like Licensed for Devestation, or the Harlequins... B: [interrupting] Hmph! KG: ...or Team Sychosys...you have a lot of competition here... W: But the Wolf Maul... B: The steel trap... KG: And of course, Natural Selection, will carry you to the top. W: The spirits favor us. B: And shall continue to, hopefully. KG: Right. Well, finish up. We have a long day ahead. W: Neho neyehe hiyo. We shall triumph. [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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+