C + O + U + N + T + D + O + W + N T + O ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/..............\........|...|.......|....| **************************SEPTEMBER 26, 1997************************** *******************WITH BRIAN LAU AND LARRY MORTON******************** [An aerial camera shot displays the Calgary Saddledome, which surprisingly enough, actually looks like a saddle. The shot zooms in slowly to reveal the marquee over the entrance, which reads "Saturday, September 27, IIWF SATURDAY NIGHT! *BIG* 20 MAN BATTLE ROYAL!" The shot pans a little to the side of the structure, where the IIWF control truck can be seen, The shot fades to a shot of Brian Lau and Larry Morton sitting in front of a bank of monitors. A small photo of Chuck Norris is jammed in the corner of one screen.] LM: Hello, IIWF fans, to another edition of Countdown to Saturday Night! As always, I'm Larry Morton, along with my esteemed colleague, Brian Lau. BL: Esteemed, huh? LM: Well, yes. I think you deserve it. BL: Oh, you do, do you? You calling me esteemed is like a pig walking into a mansion and complimenting the decor. LM: A simple thank you would suffice, Brian. Folks, last week we saw some amazing action from the Egg Dome in Tokyo, Japan, and this week, we'll see what promises to be more amazing action from the Saddledome here in Calgary. BL: Saddledome... How quaint. LM: Am I to assume that you're not too impressed with Calgary? BL: Calgary? Try the whole country. This is the armpit of the world, I tell you. The only thing I have to be thankful for these last few days is that I got out of going to Corner Brook. That's the small oozing cyst of this armpit. LM: How can you say that? You've never even been there! BL: I know what I'm talking about. Any town that can produce a Chris Quigley has to be dreadfully awful. As much as I hate the States, there's nothing down there that can even compare with Corner Brook... No, wait... Hagerstown... Hagerstown, Maryland. LM: Canada is a wonderful country, Brian... BL: Oh, yeah, sure... I exchanged my Yen from Japan into Canadian dollars the other day, and I actually got less back. And to top it all off, the taxes here are unreal... I went to get a hot dog yesterday, and I swear that it cost me $14. Sure, that's fifty cents in American dollars, but these hicks don't know that. LM: That's not true... BL: Oh, yes it is... they not only get taxed once on everything, they get taxed twice. Why would anyone stand for that? Whoever said the meek shall inherit the Earth must have been an optimistic Canadian. LM: But what about...? BL: No, no... It sucks... Have you seen the people in Calgary? Huh? They're grateful that the IIWF is here... They think Poutine Janois is their Prime Minister. LM: I have to admit that Janois does sound a bit like... BL: A bit?! They were separated at birth! LM: Well, at the risk of offending our Canadian fans, I think we should really stop this line of conversation and move on to the results from the War Room. Let's take a look at the results... ======================================================================== ----------------------WEDNESDAY-WAR-ROOM-RECAP-------------------------- ======================================================================== Results for Wednesday War Room - September 24, 1997. 1. "One Man Army" Dakota Bundy def. El Super Gecko [J] (via Pinfall) 2. Natural Predators def. The Rotundos [J] (via Pinfall) 3. "B.G." def. Jumpin' Jack [J] (via Pinfall) 4. The Down Boys def. The Barnacle Brothers [J] (via Pinfall) 5. Derek Mota def. Ricardo LeBleu [J] (via Pinfall) 6. Timothy N. Turner def. The Subway Psycho (via Pinfall) 7. "Real Deal" Luke Steele def. Duncan Macbeth (via Pinfall) 8. NON-TITLE: "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley def. Scott Rogers (via Submission) ======================================================================== LM: We saw some impressive debuts from four new IIWF superstars. BL: What about that Dakota Bundy, huh? That guy looks like a bright light. Ever see him grin? Makes me chuckle just thinking about it. LM: Please, Brian. There's no call for chastising the dentally impaired. BL: Huh? LM: We also finally got a glimpse of the enigmatic "B.G."... what a monster. BL: I wonder if this one will form a stable too. We also saw two tag teams, neither of which hold a candle to the Syndicate. LM: Well, I must say that you are mistaken, Brian, because I saw two teams that could give the Syndicate a run for their money any time. BL: Not unless both members are armed with large blunt objects... LM: Moving on, Derek Mota scored a win on preliminary newcomer, Ricardo LeBleu. BL: One of the only good things to come out of Canada, if you ask me. LM: Don't you have an associate up here? What would he think of your Canada-bashing? BL: What are you talking about? He's the one I get my material from! LM: Good grief... Later in the show, Tim Turner scored a win over IIWF superstar, The Subway Psycho... Although the ESWP TV title was instrumental in that outcome. BL: That's why I always say you should leave your other titles where they belong... You don't see Casey James carrying around his Six Gun Championship title from the LWC, do you? LM: Ummm, didn't you just say that... BL: It was an example, Larry... LM: Okay, Brian, whatever you say. We saw Luke Steele defeat Duncan Macbeth when Tim Turner got involved and "accidentally" hit Macbeth with that same title belt. I wonder how long that little friendship will last now. BL: There you go again, Larry... Starting rumors. LM: Well, it happens, you know? On to the main event... Chris Quigley had some comments beforehand, which included a few derogatory comments about Creed. I was personally shocked. BL: The guy wins a belt and suddenly he's got an attitude... It doesn't wash with me. LM: Well, I must be honest. Quigley showed some intensity in the ring during his actual match. That match, of course, ended in a submission win for Quigley via the Quickstriker. Afterwards, Simon Lebec got in the face of Scott Rogers for some reason or another. BL: Does anyone really need a reason to get in the face of Rogers? I mean, sure, the guy is ugly and all, but he's just begging for harsh words. LM: Well, joining Genesis didn't exactly win him any popularity contests, but he is a great competitor. BL: Whatever. LM: Well, with the Wednesday recap done, the next logical step is to take a look at Saturday Night. So without further ado, let's get on with it. BL: Real smooth, Larry. ======================================================================== ----------------------IIWF-SATURDAY-NIGHT-PREVIEW----------------------- ======================================================================== -------------------------------------------------------------- 1. CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNAMENT FIRST ROUND MATCH: "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare vs. "Showstopper" Simon Lebec -------------------------------------------------------------- LM: The Cruiserweight Division Tournament continues with another first round matchup. BL: This should be alright... Shakespeare and Lebec have history. You've got to assume that this pairing was made on purpose in order to put bodies in the seats. LM: I'm not too sure about that, but I will agree that this match could be potentially volatile. BL: _Could_ is the operative word. Word in the IIWF has it that Shakespeare doesn't particularly _want_ to be in this tournament. LM: I've heard that as well. I don't understand that... I mean, this is a chance for Shakespeare to once again hold the CW title, but he just doesn't want it? BL: A wise man once said, "Been there, done that." I think that applies. LM: Well, let's get comments from Billy Shakepseare himself on this matchup... [Billy Shakespeare sits sprawled in an overstuffed chair in a victorian library. A large stack of Shakespearean works is piled on the floor. He tips his reading glasses to the edge of his nose and addresses the camera.] BS: What IS going through Billy Shakespeare's mind? What DOES he want? What did Iago want when he betrayed Othello? What was Juliet's motive behind killing herself? Was Hamlet mad? Is Billy Shakespeare mad north-northwest? Perhaps. They all made great theater, and they were all means to an end. This is my means. They wanted "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare to prove himself again in a tournament. Haven't I done that over and over again? Ronnie Paris pleads for another opportunity to see me work, but what's in it for me? I'm killing two birds with one stone here, Ronnie, I'm willing to face you in the ring again... but only with the Cruiserweight Title on the line. And you didn't have a chance of winning it with me in that tournament. Indeed, your chances remain slim unless I can find a way to help you. But when you get there, Paris, the cupboard may be bare. How little I favor Derek Mota wearing the strap. Maybe you'll win the belt only to find that it is I that you are meeting at Ring Wars. Then who will the fans be laughing at? "Born to Perform," but you haven't figured out the plot yet. [He tips his glasses back up and resumes reading. Fade.] LM: So Shakepspeare believes that he's already proven himself, and sees no need to do it once again. BL: I agree... Shakespeare has taken some serious beatings in the past, and bounced right back. He's proven himself a true competitor... Almost the true Franchise of the IIWF. But there's another motive. Why go through a bunch of guys just to get a shot, when you can make smaller actions to get someone the title itself, and then take it from him? One man. It's more economical. LM: Do you see everything in terms of money and economics? BL: What? You mean there's other ways to see things? ---------------------------------------------------- 2. High Plains Drifters vs. Licensed for Devastation ---------------------------------------------------- LM: The Drifters make their IIWF wrestling return as they face Licensed for Devastation. BL: I hear LFD are looking for a little payback after the Drifters did that confiscation job with that taser. LM: That could very well be. I wonder how this one will turn out. BL: Well, The Drifters have the experience, having wrestled more IIWF tag matches than anyone presently in the IIWF. I think LFD will be a little outmatched here. The Drifters may not be technical geniuses, but they can go with the best of them. Two rough and tough cowboys. LM: And where the Drifters are, you have to expect Josey Wales to be somewhere nearby. BL: Of course... That's another big advantage. A manager who's not afraid to get involved. Wales is a tough old bastard. LM: Well, we'll see if LFD are intimidated as we get comments from them right now... [The camera opens to Reggie Starr and Jonathan Chaos, Licensed for Devastation, standing in front of a blue backdrop, with "IIWF" implanted on it in white letters. Spraypainted over the IIWF is "LFD" in red paint. They are both in ruffian clothing.] RS: THIS SUCKS! What an outrage! I protest! Call the ASPCA! Call the Army! Call the [BLEEP]ing po-lice! JC: Dude, it ain't that bad... they just took Shock. RS: Just?! _Just_!? They took our god damned mascot, Jon! Shock the Taser, what makes us... _us_! High Plains Drifters, we don't know who you are, and quite honestly... we don't give a flying Tonnage! JC: Yeah, what he said. I'm a little ticked myself, that taser's been through the thick and thin of the LFD... RS: I'm a bit _more_ ticked off, HPD. I'm a deranged psychopath as it is... [Reggie's eyes glaze over.] JC: Oh damn, not again. He's got that look... RS: It's about time that I beat the hell out of the two of you and julian your [BLEEP]ing nut[BLEEP]s, chop up your [BLEEP], make you breathe out of your [BLEEP]s, rip off your [BLEEP]ing [BLEEP], and beat the overall [BLEEP] out of you. JC: [BLEEP]. RS: Yeah, Jon! You two've opened up a really large can of butt-stomping, and the two of us are gonna enclose you in those damned cans! JC: Ya'll've taken advantage of our good nature and trust, and stolen our most prized possession... now we' gonna take ya'lls most prized possessions... your life. [Reggie nods to Jon, and they walk off camera. Fade to black.] BL: They have no problem using two dollar words, but they promise a "butt stomping?" LM: I, for one, am glad to hear it. The "a" word is way overused these days... BL: Ahh, blow it out your ass... LM: See? ----------------------------------------- 3. IIWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: Derek Mota [c] vs. Derek St. Croix ----------------------------------------- LM: Dexter St. Croix has made it clear that he wants a chance to capture that CW belt from Mota, and tomorrow night, he'll get his chance. BL: Oh, yeah, like nappy boy has a chance. Listen, Croix is one of them laid back, rasty types... Mota is a tough little bastard. There's no comparison. The only way that Croix could put Mota down for the count is to take him to one of those dub booze cans he hangs out at on the weekends and allow him to partake in the... party favours. LM: That's a rather racially biased comment... BL: No it's not... It's what the guy does. LM: I don't think he's ever... BL: You don't think, Larry, period. LM: Thank you, Brian. Thanks a lot. Why don't we just hear from the challenger, okay? BL: Go ahead... [Dexter St. Croix, dressed in khaki shorts and a Florida Marlins t-short, sits in a semi-darkened room, watching video of the Cruiserweight Triple Threat Match from Midsummer Madness with the two male members of his posse. On the screen, Mota by now has gotten back up, albeit gingerly, and is on his way to the top rope. Allah sees it coming, so he's over towards the corner, climbing up to intercept. Mota, who's still bleeding all over the place, doesn't see Allah in time and has his left leg hooked, giving his challenger the leverage. Dexter looks on impressed as Allah hits a top rope suplex from the position, and holds on for a pin. We can hear Dross and Roberts' commentary, though the sound is low...] TD: Fisherman superplex! That's gotta be it... one, two, no! SR: I love it, Lebec breaks things up with a diving headbutt to the Dog's groin! [Suddenly, the action on the screen pauses and is rewound to the beginning of the suplex, then paused...] DSC: That suplex caught 'im by surprise, mon. 'im strength, 'im high threshold o' pain, could be 'im biggest weakness. Posse1: Ya gotta slow down da pace o' da match. Da man is at 'im best when t'ings are movin' quickly, mon. Ya gotta fight your fight. DSC: Ya t'ink I don' know dis? Do me a favor, huh? 'and me da Captain Morgan, mon. [Posse1 hands Dexter the bottle of rum and he takes a long swig, followed by a sip of Coca-Cola. Dexter then extracts a hand-rolled cigarette from his breast pocket and lights it with his trusty Zippo lighter. He inhales deeply and exhales blue smoke...] DSC: Sorry t' snap, mon. I jus' got me emotions runnin' all over de place. [Posse1 nods in acknowledgment as Dexter addresses the camera] DSC: Mota. I gotta say, I wasn't expectin' dis match so quickly, mon. But I can't blame de IIWF top cats for makin' it 'appen. Ya see, Ol' Dex is one of de most excitin' wrestlers in de IIWF, and de top brass 'ere would rather see a real wrestler defendin' dat belt, not a psychopathic maniac wid no regard for de rules and standards dat made dis great sport what it is t'day. I don' like ya, Mota. I don' like what ya stand for, mon. [Dexter takes a drag from his cigarette and exhales smoke rings...] DSC: An' when we meet in de ring dis Saturday night, ya can betcha by golly wow dat I'm gonna do ever't'ing in me power to take ya down. Peace out. [The footage of the Triple Threat match begins to play again as the screen fades to black.] BL: Da man 'ave two face an' four eye. LM: What? BL: Ya know what dey mean when dey say a man feyce be screw? LM: Just what in heaven's name are you talking about? BL: Me nat know what ya be now, but ya is a dead man walkin'. LM: Will you stop that? BL: My pleasure. Did you see that? What do you think was in that cigarette? LM: Ummm... Tobacco? BL: Oh, yeah... Wacky Tabacky is what the Indians call it. LM: Is it good? BL: Depends... You interested? I know a few people who can get... LM: Oh, wait, you mean _that_ kind of... Oh, dear... Let's drop this right now... --------------------------------------------- 4. TRIPLE THREAT TAG TEAM MATCH: Cold Spell vs. Harlequins vs. The Machines --------------------------------------------- LM: Surely three of the top contenders for the tag titles will battle it out in the same ring tomorrow night! BL: Well... The Harlequins might be contenders... The other two teams... Well, no. LM: What? Cold Spell are the former champions! BL: And they got beat like dogs last week by... Oh, who was it? Oh, of course, The Syndicate! LM: You're obnoxious, you know that? BL: Of course I do. It's part of my charm. LM: Wonderful. Folks, let's first get comments from the Machines... [Fade to Paul Wong] PW: Eight... Nine... Ten. [The scene is the Machine's workout area. On the chalkboard are written the names THE HARLEQUINS and COLD SPELL. Simon O'Neal is bench-pressing some weights, with Paul Wong spotting him. O'Neal finishes his set, and places the bar back onto the bench.] SO: Good. Now that I'm finished... PW: Finished? Hold on there. You have three more sets to go. SO: Three more? You mean, with reduced weights, right? [Paul shakes his head] That's ridiculous. Ain't no way four sets can be lifted... [Paul lifts the bar off the bench, steps back, and curls the weights once... twice... three times. He places the bar back on the bench.] SO: ...unless you're a muscle-loving gym freak. Besides [points to the camera], we have to talk to the IIWF. PW: Quit complaining, and it'll be over. And I'll talk to the IIWF. [Still griping, Simon starts another set. Paul steps over to the side, and begins speaking to the camera.] PW: This week, Simon and I take on not one, but two of the best teams in the IIWF. Cold Spell are the former champs, and the Harlequins are the only IIWF team to beat us in a straight tag team match. It won't be easy -- both teams have much more experience in the IIWF than we do, and I know that we're the underdogs. But we've made a career out of defying expectations... and Saturday, we plan on doing it again. [Simon places the bar back on the bench, wipes his head with a towel, and joins his partner.] PW: That was fast. SO: Hey, when you're this good, weights are no problem. [Simon flexes his arm for the camera. Paul rolls his eyes and heads back to the weight bench to change the weights. Simon continues speaking.] SO: So let's see... I keep hearing how everyone's excited that Cold Spell and the Harlequins are getting ready for each other. And how great both teams are and how much they hate each other and blah blah blah... Apparently Icehawk and Tragedy keep fighting because of Tragedy's wife, Comedy. It took me three trips to divorce court, but I'm above those things now. The point is, everyone keeps talking about Cold Spell, and the Harlequins, and no one is paying attention to The Machines. We need something to call attention to ourselves. Hmmm... [Thinks for a second, then smirks into the camera] Beating them both at once should do the trick. Later. [Fade] LM: I think the Machines could very well come from behind and take this thing. BL: [snickers softly] LM: What? BL: Oh, nothing... I kind of agree, though... Paul Wong might take it from behind. Of course, you're the expert, right? LM: Well, I _am_ a broadcaster on a wrestling show, so I should know a thing or two about the sport. BL: Hey, not all of us are exactly well versed on the quick go-behind, alright? LM: Okay... Something tells me that this is some big joke to you, but I just don't get it. BL: Jeez, Larry, I don't even have to _be_ here, do I? LM: Ummm... Whatever you say. Folks, let's now get comments from the enigmatic Harlequins. Tim Dross comes to us with this interview... [Night time. It is raining, and thunder can be heard in the distance. As the camera pans down the street, a bolt of lightning illuminates a sign with an image of a headless horseman on it. As the thunder continues to rumble in the distance, a lone figure walks down the street. His face hidden in the shadows. Another flash of lightning briefly shows the scarred face of Travis Quinn, better known to the wrestling world as Tragedy of The Harlequins. As he continues walking, he is met by a figure that can only be Tim Dross.] TD: Tragedy, thank you for meeting with me, but why out here? HT: It seemed like a nice night. TD: It's raining! HT: Like I said, a nice night. TD: I was hoping to talk to you. We haven't spoken to each other since... HT: The interview. TD: Yes, you've received quite a favorable response from the fans since that interview ran. HT: That's nice. TD: Nice? Do you realize what that's done for you? The fans are demanding more Harlequin matches. It's put you on the track for the Tag Team Titles. HT: Are you suggesting that we weren't before? TD: Well, no. HT: Good. [Tragedy and Dross stop at a house which Tragedy opens. Inside Comedy, also without makeup, is sitting at the kitchen table. She gets up and runs to her husband, hugging him!] HC: Honey! You're home! Ack! You're wet! Oh, Hi Timmy! TD: Ma'am. HC: I'll go put on some hot chocolate! Let me get your coats. [Comedy takes Tragedy and Dross' coats and dashes off to the kitchen.] TD: Nice home. HT: Thank you. TD: It's definitely a change of pace from that amusement park. HT: That place no longer fits us. TD: I know, your "gimmick," such as it was, has changed. HT: More like evolved. TD: Yes, you and your brother are a lot less clownish. HT: It was necessary. TD: How so? HT: When this "gimmick" as you call it started off, it worked very well. People said, "They're clowns, not real wrestlers." No one took us seriously and we used that advantage to capitalize on mistakes our opponents would make. But it's been almost two years since we started and people are catching on. TD: So you got respect at the expense of the psychological edge. HT: Exactly, so we decided to reconstruct ourselves. To go past the original idea and get ourselves more in touch with who we really are. TD: So you started wearing black. HT: It's not just that. I always envisioned us as the epitome of what we represented. It took more than a clothing change to accomplish that. TD: Like your wrestling style. I notice you don't do as many aerial maneuvers as you used to. HT: I was raised on the idea that the top rope was the last place you want to go. When I was "feuding" with my father I took up an aerial style as a way of rebelling against him. TD: But now you're back into the submission style you were formally taught. That's got people worried. HT: And rightly so. A normal technician may bounce you around with suplexes, but that kind of injury heals quickly. Aerialists can do some damage, but they are more likely to be hurt than their targets. But clamp on a leglock, and the damage that's done comes close to permanent. TD: That's a risk not too many wrestlers are willing to take. Plus you and Chaos have added some interesting double team moves. Like that one where he uses you, his own brother, as a weapon! HT: It's a very effective move. TD: And very dangerous. How much risk do you put yourself in? HT: Not a lot actually. I was trained to take punishment in the ring. Plus, I do have Chaos there with me. [Comedy comes in with two cups of hot chocolate, complete with whipped cream and marshmallows.] HC: Here you go! TD: [Looking at his watch] Oh, I'm sorry, but I got a plane to catch to Portland in an hour. Maybe some other time. HC: Okay! TD: What's the quickest way to the airport from here? HT: Take 72, it'll lead you straight to O'Hare. TD: Thanks. I'll get in touch with you later. I have more questions. HT: I'm not surprised. HC: Bye, Timmy! [Fade] LM: A very serious Tragedy. BL: Oh, and I suppose a guy named Tragedy is supposed to be cracking jokes all the time, right? LM: Well, no... I meant... BL: Never mind... ------------------------------------------- 5. Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven vs. Tonnage ------------------------------------------- LM: The "Juggernaut" will meet his biggest challenge to date when he faces Tonnage. BL: I wonder how Verhoeven will approach this one. I mean, he's used to dominating the competition with his size and strength advantage, but he's definitely out-powered and out-sized in this match. I have faith, though. If there's anyone in the IIWF that can beat Tonnage cleanly, it's Verhoeven. LM: Put on top of that the rage that Verhoeven must be feeling right now. His fiancée still injured, being robbed of the world title by the "Masked Outlaw"... He's got to be looking for something to take all his frustrations out on. BL: Well, I don't think Tonnage is big enough to stand up to that, to be honest with you. I know Verhoeven, and I know the guy is not someone you make angry. Nobody's safe from this man. Not even a giant like Tonnage. LM: Well, let's hear comments from Herr Verhoeven... Let's roll that tape. [SCENE: A beautiful park in Portland Oregon. On an mosaic-covered path circling a crystal blue lake the camera zooms in on Otto Verhoeven who is shoving his fiancee around in a wheelchair. Heidi looks pale but smiles weakly. "The Butcher" wears a brown leather jacket and jeans.] NH: Ze doctors say zat ze zerapy progresses fairly vell. OV: What did the German specialists that I called find out, liebling? NH: Zey are still making some tests and checking ze x-rays. OV: What? I spend a fortune on doctors and they still haven't found out how much damage has been done to your spine? It has been four weeks since... NH: Please, Otto, I don't...[gulps down some tears] I don't vant to talk about zis now. Tell me about your next match. Tell me about Tonnage. OV: Tonnage? Tonnage may be one of my toughest challenges yet. I rarely fight men who are bigger than me, and when I encountered them they were blob-like inbreds who were breathing hard after they entered the ring. Once they were down, they stayed down. NH: But Tonnage is different, isn't he? OV: Oh, ja. He has single-handedly dominated this WAR-federation, destroyed every man who ever made the mistake to challenge him there. Called all the shots and ended nearly as much careers as the Grim Reaper. NH: Sounds just like your kind of opponent, "Juggernaut". OV: You are right, of course. Tonnage may have faced many opponents, even many big men, in his long career, but he has never stepped into the ring with me. "The Butcher" vs. "the Beast"... sounds like a meeting of B-movie slashers. Our clash might be just like that, or so much more. If you truly think that strength, weight and size can win this match for you, you are sadly mistaken. These kind of matches between to legends of the sport are decided by willpower, by determination, by the willingness to go beyond the usual body-smashing routine for special nights like this and show to the world who the superior fighter is. NH: Sounds like you are taking this match rather seriously. Do you really zink zat fat, mutated freak poses a danger to a man like you, the premium German athlete? OV: He will be a challenge. I am curious what he will have to say. He is quite a talker, ranting for hours and hours and trying to make a point. But all the petty insults, all the big words, all the talk about respect or disgust, all of this will be utterly forgotten when Tonnage and I step into the ring, two behemoths with the intent to tear into each other. When the match is over, when the crowd stands on its feet in awe, it will be the Butcher who shall prevail. And Tonnage shall never forget his visit into the Slaughterhouse. NH: Ze American vimp vill bleed. Take me back to ze hospital now, liebling. Your plane to Calgary leaves Portland in two hours. OV: As you wish. [Fade to black.] LM: He sounds almost... calm. BL: That's just it... The angrier he gets, the more serene he becomes. He's almost pleasant when he's about to snap. When Otto Verhoeven walks into a room and says to you, "Hello, how are you? Nice day, isn't it?" then you'd better run for cover. LM: I'm interested to see how this match turns out. It could very well become a classic. ----------------------------------- 6. Prophets of Rage vs. Damage Inc. ----------------------------------- LM: Former IIWF tag team champions take on a team that is heralded by many to be the greatest tag team in the world... BL: That was, of course, before The Syndicate was formed. Interestingly enough, though, The Prophets of Rage were recently voted the best tag team in a fairly popular top 200 list. Congrats, Prophets. LM: It should be an interesting contest. Both teams are debated to be the best, depending on who you listen to. I guess we'll find out tomorrow night just who will prevail. BL: You've got to give the advantage to the Prophets. They're familiar with the workings of the IIWF. Damage Inc. may be good, but they haven't been here before. LM: That's a good point. Well, let's start off with the war of the words between these two teams. First up, we'll have comments from Damage Inc. [The scene is backstage in Tokyo after Damage Inc's interference during Tony Starks' match vs. Tonnage. Alex Porteaux, Eddy Ramos and Jeandra have switched to black t-shirts with golden Fleur de Lis on each front. Jeandra is holding a mirror to her face and is playing with her hair while Porteaux carries a shifty, crafty smile. Eddy Ramos neglects to face the camera, but one can only guess that his face is glowing as well.] AP: And survey SEZ!! DEY ARE PISSED! Some people are gonna ask us... "why the Prophets?" Why piss off one the SINGLE best tag teams of our era, before, during and after? Why start at the top instead of working your way up? [his voice raises] Why put your whole BRAND SPANKING NEW CAREER ON DA LINE FACING ONE OF THE DEADLIEST TAG TEAMS IN THE FREAKIN' BUSINESS? J : [turns from the mirror] Because that's how we do it. AP: We hide. From no one. We cower. From no one. We are three of THE craziest... looniest.... NON-THINKING BASTARDS AND BITCHES YOU *EVER* HAVE SEEN! And we didn't earn "our time in the spotlight" ducking or picking easy opponents! Yep, I said that "S" word... "spotlight"... the word that EVERYBODY brings up when they talk about us now.... they gotta talk about "your time in the spotlight is done". Oh? And I guess we should just hang our heads in shame and then walk away? Or should we be like the best team out there... and trade insults? J : And to think... THIS is the best team out there? Instead of outright accepting our TAG TEAM challenge, you challenge ME to a match? Making fun of my REAL hair? C'mon. Do better. Try harder. Read more. Do something, Rages. I can tell from your response... I can see it in those pale, colorless eyes... of ALL of you. Fear? No... not yet. Eddy hasn't hit you with a powerbomb yet. It's reality. It creeps in, slowly but surely. You're not sure. You're not positive that you can still beat us... are you? Why bring up the past, Rages? Why talk about ME, Rages? Why talk about lost belts... hair.... women... and why not talk about the matter at hand... two men who have YET to lost their place in history no matter WHAT you do? What is it? Why aren't you so confident in yourselves? Is it because we came STRAIGHT at you? That we didn't wait two months of warming up? That could be it... AP: Or it could be... that the Rages are hiding in their own glory. The Age of Rage... is like the Ice Age. Was it a great Age? Nobody knows... 'cuz no one was there. Madusa... you and Jeandra keep in contact... old broadcast partners you.... you knew Jeandra was WRESTLING last month at the Legends of E-Wrestling card. Where were you? Oh right... we'll hear something about the Rages are too good or don't care for that kind of stuff... okay, sure. Not the point. The point is...the bottom line is.... J : The spotlight isn't on us anymore. Yeah, we're here. So what? Have we taken back the top spot? Nope. Have we used you as a stepping stone yet? Nope. The spotlight, dear Rages... are all on you... just the way you... and EVERY last one of our opponents ALWAYS wanted it. It's not time for US to prove we're the best... it's ALL ON YOU. We're outside looking in... what have WE got to lose? What do WE have to suffer? Not a thing. YOUR rep is on the line... losing to a bunch of has beens? [laughs and peers into the camera] Can you imagine that? How that would look? How it would FEEL? Good... no? Oh, yes it would. You're not just fighting us in Calgary, Rages.... AP: Saturday night... you fight yourselves. Look at the mirror... ask yourself... can I handle the spotlight? Can I deal with it? ER: Just remember Rages. Damage Inc doesn't have to eliminate you. We don't have to destroy you for credibility. Can you say the same? Imagine what you have to do to us.....how FAR you have to go, to get where we can get in ONE win, over you. Can you get there? Can you get to that level? Ask yourselves...spread the question across the whole clan....[camera zooms on Ramos' face]... ask yourself.... "CAN YOU GET _IT_ _ON_?" AP: [face still on Ramos] Saturday night... bring an answer... [Fade] BL: Ahh, yes, the head games. I love a good head game. LM: Oh, I bet you do... BL: Yes... The psychology, the intimidation... LM: Actually, I was making a lewd comment. BL: No, you were _trying_ to make a lewd comment. You failed. Next... LM: Let's hear from the Rages... Former IIWF tag team champions... [Fade in: The Prophets of Rage lean up against the back wall of a rodeo. Shadoe wears a fancy western shirt in pink satin and leather chaps with a big cowboy hat on his head at a rakish angle. Derek Rage looks cool in an off-white long coat and matching pants. He wears a Riverboat gambler's frilled shirt and striped vest. An off-white bowler is perched on his head as he stares thoughtfully into the camera. Horses wander and whinny in front of them. Behind them is a vast plain. The weather looks a little dry. The sky is beginning to turn red and the sun is a fat ball in the distance.] SR: Calgary, Alberta, Damage Incorporated. That's Calgary, Alberta, CANADA. That means you're in Rage country. You know what that means? That means you're gonna be whipped right in front of all the great Canadians that make us what we are today. DR: Not that we put too much stock in the little lists people like to bandy around, but it's recently come to our attention that we've been recognized by our peers on no less than two occasions as being the best tag-team in the world. Think that reputation wasn't earned? Think we didn't work for it? See, we didn't take time off to go and whine and cry when we lost our belts. We just went out and got us a new set. SR: And that's all there ever is to know about the Prophets of Rage. We are just so far above the best it's scary. And I tell you this. You don't have a chance against me. You just don't have a chance. You know that. See, the thing about wrestling is this. They got very short memories. When we stop who gonna remember us? Nobody. And all our accomplishments will be like soap bubbles. Gone. Vanished. But while we're here. Oh yeah, while we're here. DR: We're gonna do something. We're gonna bust the asses of all the old teams that got put over us by some marketing minded suit in his little ivory tower. You've never been better than us, Porteaux, Ramos. You think all your little moves are impressive? They're pretty damned triflin' compared to the stuff we innovated. But that's neither here nor there. See, what's going to count in our match is exactly how well you manage to utilize your strengths and cover your weaknesses. Shadoe and I, we got no weaknesses. They thought they could stop us when they wouldn't let valets come to ringside. You did know that, right. Jeandra will have to go back. I hope you didn't plan on her having any influence in the match. This is the IIWF, man. SR: And in the IIWF, the Prophets of Rage rule. We're the main attraction in a league that's beginning to fill itself full of bright lights. Yeah, the suits actually asked us to hold back. We were making the division look bad. So we dogged it a little for a new team called Licensed for Devastation. We didn't go all out. Now they got confidence and the federation got a credible contender. The things you do for a contract, right? But you guys, Damage. You guys got a reputation already. Nobody's breast-feeding you. [Derek unfolds himself from the fencepost and steps towards the camera, lifting his white boots to show the muck clinging to the sole.] DR: And that means we'll be stomping you with these here manure-filled boots, gentlemen. Ooooh, Eddie, you ain't in Mexico no more. You want to fly with a man with a 51 inch vertical leap? Boy, you're too fat to fly any more. Only thing you're good for is ... wiping my feet on. [Derek Rage sticks the mud and manure-filled sole of his boot up against the camera, smearing the lens as he grinds it in.] SR: [off camera] Bye bye, Damage! Die in darkness! DR: [off camera] Fade to black. [Fade out] LM: This should be a great contest. BL: Even better than the Pancake Munch that Dross was in a few weeks back. LM: While that was a sight to behold, this one will be even better. -------------------------------------------------- 7. "Masked Outlaw" vs. "Majestic" Maurice McArthur -------------------------------------------------- LM: I can't believe we're actually going to see this "Outlaw" in action. BL: It's the biggest mistake this imposter can make. Listen to me, pretender... A person's ring style is as distinct as a fingerprint to the trained eye. I, for one, will be watching you very closely. You might as well remove the mask after your match tomorrow, because you're going to be found out. LM: Many still believe this man to be Casey James. BL: No... I _know_ Casey James. I know his style. This is not him. The movement's all wrong... Besides, this Outlaw has helped Requiem twice... If it were Casey, he'd be making that belt change hands as often as possible... You know why? LM: Why's that? BL: Because he currently holds the record for the longest title reign in the IIWF. Any person holding that belt jeopardizes that record. LM: That's pretty petty. BL: Not to Casey. Trust me. He treasures that record. The Outlaw isn't Casey. LM: Well, if your eye is trained as well as you say, perhaps we can have your analysis next week. What do you say? BL: It's a deal... I'd like nothing more than to expose this man to the entire IIWF. He's targeted by almost every IIWF wrestler that's not in Genesis. To expose him would be a fitting punishment for the things he's done. LM: There you have it, folks... Watch closely, and make your predictions. See how your observations match up to Brian's next week! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ 8. 20-MAN OVER THE TOP ROPE BATTLE ROYAL: Mad Dog Watkins - Subway Psycho - Timothy N. Turner - Kevin "the Cavalier" Christiansen - Serge Annis - Tony Starks - "Real Deal" Luke Steele - Ike Sampson - Scott Rogers - Dirt Dog Unique Allah - - The Phoenix - "One Man Army" Dakota Bundy - "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare - Marty Warnett - Duncan Macbeth - Highwayman - Steve "the Fury" Kowalski - "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder - Creed ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: This is a match that could easily headline any card in the world... Even a Pay Per View card. BL: Sure... The prize is a shot at whoever is the IC champ by the time Ring Wars IV rolls around. There's a lot of big names in there. LM: Newcomers and veterans alike will fight it out just for the chance to get a shot at wearing the gold. This is the IIWF, where even the chance to fight the champ has the entire fed fighting tooth and nail. Needless to say, even a title shot in itself is an honour here. BL: Unless you're getting a shot at Requiem... Then it's a chance to get jumped by Requiem's Bastard Outlaw Lackey. LM: Pretty strong words... BL: Better believe it. LM: Let's get comments from some of the participants in this match. I should start by saying, though, that some of the participants are in such rigorous training right now that they were unable to give us their comments. Marty Warnett, for example, flat out refused to let a camera crew meet with him. BL: Yeah... He's training his right arm with the Pint-Mug Curl as we speak. LM: I don't think he... Oh, never mind... Let's roll that series of interviews... ["The Mouth" Matt Malone is in the back of a Rolls Royce with Dakota Bundy. Bundy is in a suit but still looks as scary as ever. Malone, on the other hand, puffing on a cigar with great pleasure, looks as arrogant as ever...] MM: Now this is style. Driving all the way from Manhattan to the Saddledome in Calgary in a Rolls-Royce. Very nice of Mr.Nomad to lend us the vehicle. [Malone sips some champagne, Bundy gulps down a bottle of it.] MM: Hey, easy Dakota, easy. We haven't won...yet. But what an event it will be. A 20 man battle royale. You'll be facing 19 others Dakota. Nineteen! That's an army! A lot of people ask me. They ask me how you're going to get past 19 men who are taller than you, stronger than you, heavier than you. And all I can say at first is, well, you're better than all of them. But then again, against an army... well, that's asking too much, isn't it? [Malone shakes his head] MM: Wrong. You see, you need to fight an army with an army. And Dakota, you're the One Man Army. Sure, you've never won a battle royale before... but then again, you've never fought a battle royale under my guidance. [Bundy points to the line-up. Malone laughs a confident laugh...] MM: Okay, you've never fought a battle royale where the competition is so tough. But look, you're also facing over-rated scabs like Creed; thugs like Rogers; jerks like Billy Shakespeare. You're better than the lot of them, by a long long way. [Malone pats his man on the shoulder.] MM: What have you got to do? You've gotta believe in yourself. Have you been beaten this year? No. Are you going to be beaten this year? [Bundy thinks about it.] MM: Not a chance. Not while I'm here to protect you. You just concentrate doing what you do... namely causing immense amounts of pain. And me... I'll just take the money and laugh. Laugh all the way to my Swiss bank. [Bundy grins.] MM: You're a good man Bundy, a good man. But dammit, you're the best wrestler as well, and once you're left, standing victorious, the IIWF is going to begin to believe it. [Malone smirks evilly and winds down the window, champagne bottle in hand.] MM: And then... just when they realise exactly who they're dealing with.... [He throws the bottle out of the window at a passing family car, causing it to crash...] MM: ...it'll be too late. [Malone laughs a deep, hearty laugh. Bundy grins a toothless but knowing grin...] [Fade to next segment] [The camera turns to show Timothy N. Turner and Tim Dross sitting outside the Rover Pub on the Stephen Avenue Mall in downtown Calgary.] TD: Thank you for agreeing to talk to me, Timo...uh, Mr.Turner. TNT: The pleasure is all yours. TD: On Wednesday you managed to beat one of the bigger names in the history of the IIWF, Subway Psycho, with a little help from Luke Steele. TNT: On Tuesday, you and Steve Roberts said that it was time for someone to step forward and show themselves to be the future of the IIWF. I am that man. I am the future of wrestling as a whole! Subway Psycho joins the ranks of those I've beaten...Kevin Christiensen...Ryan Howard...Tony Starks...Chris Quigley...the list goes on and on! TD: I don't remember you beating... TNT: Why don't you let me talk about Luke Steele. Steele, the good luck charm, strikes again! He attacks me...and I win! This guy should start hiring out his services! "I'll pay you twenty dollars if you attack me before my match!" He could make a killing! TD: Also on Wednesday, you caused Duncan Macbeth to be defeated at the hands of that self same Luke Steele. TNT: Now, now, Dross. That's not what happened and you know it. Steele won that match by cheating, pure and simple! There is no way that Steele could beat Duncan in a straight ahead match so he had to go and use some belt that he had made so he could pretend he wasn't a loser! Forget that! It never happened! TD: Since you claim to have beaten Chris Quigley...how do you look forward the Battle Royal on Saturday? The winner gets a shot at Quigley's Intercontinental Title! TNT: Simple. I'm going to win. I mean, really. Look at who's in this thing! Christiensen? Steele? What a bunch of no-talent thugs! This should be easy for a man of my caliber! TD: Of course Duncan Macbeth is also in the match and he has vowed that the Intercontinental Title will be his. TNT: It's good to know that there will be at least one person I can trust in the ring! TD: What if it comes down to just you and Duncan? TNT: You are just trying to stir up trouble, Dross! I won't stand for it! This interview is over! [Turner storms off, leaving Dross with the cheque.] [Fade to next segment] [SCENE: Calgary, Alberta, Canada, in front of the Saddledome, home of the NHL's Calgary Flames and this Saturday's IIWF spectacular. An abrasive rumble rises above the ordinary bustle of the morning traffic and grows into an ear-splitting roar as a blue and silver, saddlebagged BMW R1200c cruiser bike pulls up to the VIP entrance of the uniquely-shaped stadium and screeches to a halt. The helmeted rider, clad in dusty, colour coordinated blue and white leathers, dismounts and opens the lid of one of the saddlebags, pulling out an equipment bag with an IIWF ID tag attached to it and throwing it over his shoulder. The rider moves towards the doors of the VIP entrance, and stops, seemingly noticing the camera for the first time. As the rider moves closer to the camera, the morning sun glints off his deep blue helmet, which upon closer inspection has the image of a red, rampant lion painted over the tinted visor. A cascade of long, ruddy-red hair falls from the helmet as the rider pulls it off, revealing the sparkling emerald eyes and intense countenance of a newly clean-shaven Duncan Macbeth.] DM: Sorry, Heidi, but I had t' lose th' peach fuzz. Me luck's no' been tha' good since I grew it, an' besides, 'tis hot enough in this helmet without th' extra insulation, wha'. An' nay, I did no' just come from Corner Brook t' here by motorcycle. I flew t' Victoria, B.C. t' pick up me bike, where I've been keepin' it in Timmy's garage while Spreadbury sends us all over th' bleedin' planet on this soddin' Road t' Ring Wars bollocks. Tim an' I had a long talk on th' flight, an' all's well, make no mistake, but I dinnae ken tha' all's well with "I used t' be a champ in Mobile" Luke Steele. Ye can change th' package, but th' product's still th' same, an' tha' product's one o' th' most boring excuses fer a wrestler I've e'er had th' displeasure t' step in th' ring with. I actually had t' thank Tim fer puttin' me lights out, 'cause I'd only have fallen asleep durin' tha' match anyway, an' still ye couldn't even manage t' get an edge on me, despite wha' yuir new trainer or waterboy or longtime companion or whate'er th' hell 'e is said! Ye got a gift last Wednesday, Steele - take it an' be happy, 'cause Christmas is over fer ye, tosser. But tha's enough about tha' nonsense. Tomorrow nigh', I'll be fightin' nineteen other men fer th' right t' face th' Intercontinental champion at Ring Wars. I look back at me career in th' IIWF thus far, an I dinnae like what I see. I remember th' Future Bowl at Birthday Bash - Mota's a champ, Sampson's had two title shots since then, an' what's Duncan Macbeth got? Nothin', that's what. I've been fightin' th' best th' IIWF has t' offer ever since I've been here, an' more often than not comin' out on top, but nobody wants t' put their strap on th' line against me. An' every time some newcomer like Scott Rogers or Dexter St. Croix shows up in this fed an' gets a title shot righ' out o' th' gate, it makes me even more frustrated, more angry, more insane. Creed, th' media darlin' himself, pisses off fer three months t' lick his wounds, an' now he shows his face 'round here again, an' it's supposed t' be th' second comin' o' Christ. How long d'ye think it'll be before he gets another shot at tha' Intercontinental belt, especially now, after 'e cold-cocks Kick-me? Pretty soon, I'd reckon. An' yis wonder why I've been carryin' on th' way I have been lately? I've been passed over, sidestepped, and avoided like th' plague by both champions an' suits alike since I showed up 'ere in th' IIWF. 'Cause I'm no' interested in fightin' th' jobbers on th' house shows t' pad me record an' get me face on th' tube. 'Cause I'm no' interested in marketing, or ad campaigns, or movin' merchandise. 'Cause I don't wear a white hat, or even a black hat, fer that matter. 'Cause I'm on nobody's side but me own. 'Cause they all ken a sure thing when they see it. I've been chasin' a title shot since Day One, but I've no' got one yet, 'cause th' champs don't want t' lose, an' th' suits don't want me keepin' their belts 'till I leave, or retire. But now, I can take what they don't want t' give me. All I have t' do is be th' last man standin'. Nineteen men. It could be _ninety_, fer all I care. Put as many men in front o' me as ye will, 'cause I've been waitin' fer this chance fer a long, long time, an' I WILL NO' BE DENIED. Enough talk now. As always, I've work t' do. [Macbeth turns, his helmet under his arm, and throwing his equipment bag again over his shoulder, strides through the steel doors of the Saddledome's VIP entrance.] [Fade to next segment.] [Scene: A local nightclub. Luke Steele sits at the bar, watching the women file past him.] LS: Say, check out the talent. Maggie was supposed to meet me here, but she hasn't shown yet. Oh well, them's the breaks I suppose. Not a lot to say tonight, 'cause I'm not in a talkin' mood. Everyone in the battle royal, why bother showing up? I'm on the biggest roll of my life, and I'll be taking the intercontinental title soon enough. Chrissy, shine it up real good, 'cause it's coming to the Real Deal. [Fade to next segment.] [The scene: the interior of an Canadian Airlines 767 jumbo passenger jet. Specifically, the business class section of said jet. Ronnie Paris is seated in one of the posh chairs, a glass of champagne at one hand and an unidentified newspaper at the other. Around him are a few other IIWF stars and the usual assortment of businessmen and women, surprised to see so many wrestlers about we're sure. Most avoid the IIWF'ers like a plague. Paris looks into the camera, and begins to speak.] RP: Here we are en route to Calgary, and for once it looks the IIWF finally treated me well, huh? First class and all... well, wrong. The travel agent screwed up on his job and I never even _got_ a ticket, I had to pay for this myself. Still, I'd rather be up here in first with class acts then back in coach with all the clowns. Hell, any seat good enough for Billy Shakespeare is way beneath me. Now, first of all, I did exactly what I knew I could by beating Tim Turner, fair and square, in the middle of the ring. No tricks, no cheating, and for once I got to perform in front of a _real_ audience. That all changes this week, as the IIWF ventures into Calgary. Now Calgary has a lot of things going against it... it's in Canada, for one... the people are zooming right off the ugly chart... but worst of all, it's a wannabe. I come from Texas, where we have real cowboys, and Calgary... you ain't even close. [Paris turns to take a sip of his champagne, and then looks out the window. The camera tries to follow his gaze down, picking up a rather blurry city below.] That's Vancouver, which means Calgary is close by. I can smell it from here. Speaking of which, I can smell Billy Shakespeare pissing himself with fear from up here too... Billy, you can call it anything you want, but you left the Cruiserweight Tournament for one reason: You fear me. I've beaten you, but how many times have you beaten me? [Pause while Paris mockingly thinks it over.] Zero. So, you can tell me that you don't want to bother beating me, but you've never proven you can. I'm glad you stepped out of the way, it makes my march to the title that much more enjoyable that I don't have to waste my time beating you again. Just make sure you remember how anxious you were to wrestle me when I'm the Cruiserweight Champion. And if you _do_ decide to try and win that match with Lebec... try being the operative word... maybe I'll just do some advance scouting. [At this point, Paris accosts a young flight attendant who's walking by, grabbing her attention with a loud "Hey!"] FA: Yes, Mr. Paris? RP: Hon, is there any chance you could do a friend of mine a favour? The guy's name is Billy Shakespeare, and he's always wanted to jump out of a plane at 30,000 feet with no parachute. [The attendant gives Paris a sceptical look.] Honest, I swear. [Fade to next segment.] [SCENE: The by-now familiar confines of Ronnie's Wings in Winston-Salem, NC. Ike Sampson is seated in a booth, along with a face we haven't seen on IIWF television in some time: Jackson Witt. Both men are wearing khaki slacks and black shirts. Witt is wearing a collarless button-up job, while Ike is sporting the "CREED ARMY: ANYONE, ANYWHERE, ANYTIME" sweatshirt seen on Saturday Night. A huge plate of Wings and a pitcher of beer sit on the table between the men. They have apparently been engaged in conversation for awhile before the cameras arrived...] JW: A lot of questions answered at Midsummer Madness, Ike. The Dog's goons?! Thunder and Kowalski. But you got to put that aside... for now. I know those boys cost you your shot at the Intercontinental Title... but now ain't the time. Every Dog has his day... and Mad Dog'll have his, too. IS: Yeah... JW: What we gotta focus on now, is the big battle royal Saturday Night up in Calgary. Win that one, and you'll get your title shot... one that can't _nobody_ take away from you. A lotta top contenders in that ring Saturday night... Macbeth... Turner -- you gotta look past those boys, too. That steel rod cost you a couple matches lately, but it ain't their time, neither. Eyes on the prize, baby. We're gonna take that belt... IS: Yeah... JW: Starks'll be there, too. Don't get wrapped up in all this. He's just playing headgames with you... IS: Starks. You better hope I don't see you in that battle royal. You better _pray_ that you get your ass tossed out long before my number's drawn. 'Cause if I see you in that ring -- I'll rip your damn head off. And that's the truth... JW: No, Ike, that ain't the truth! That's just what _The Man_ wants to see! Nothing makes _The Man_ happier, nothing puts more asses in the seats for _The Man_, than two brothers going at it! Look at Mad Dog and Creed-- IS: I ain't doing this for _The Man_. I'm doing this for me. This ain't about "Black on Black" -- this is The Big Dog on some punk! You wanna talk about tough, Starks?! You wanna say that I don't know how to whip _your_ ass, just 'cause I ain't from the streets?!? You say it in the ring Saturday -- I'll show ya. At Madness -- I came in the ring with the full intention of helping you punk Turner. He hit me with that steel rod one too many times! But then, I saw you in there, all the matches you cost me with that damn steel chair -- and it hit me. You ain't no better than the rest of 'em. So don't give me that holier than thou bulls[BLEEP]... you ain't no better than the rest. You wanna talk about family?! You wanna talk about being all alone?! Well, I've realized something in the last few weeks. I don't need the Prophets, I don't need the Mad Dog, and I sure as hell don't need you. I got all the family I need every time I step in the ring. They're sitting out there, paying their hard-earned money to see _me_ whip some punk-ass like _you_. Win or lose, they're there for me. And that's all the family I need. And that's the truth... JW: Eyes on the prize, baby. We're coming home next week to North Ka-ka-la-ka with an Intercontinental Title Shot. Guaranteed... [The men continue to talk as we fade to the next segment.] [Scene: The shot starts in on the water and fades to a harbor. There we see a mid sized boat, the sky is black and the moon shines off the water. The theme from John Woo's "The Killer" starts in and the shot fades to inside the boat where we see Starks sitting on a couch inside. Hanging from the ceiling are many origami cranes. The shot closes in on Starks' face, his eyes closed he speaks in a cold voice over the music.] TS: Tonnage, you think I wanted my brothers to come in there? Hell no. I didn't want Ike or Damage Inc. or anyone there except me and you. I wanted to shut you up for good Glutton believe me, there will be a definite time for that...the pain I have for you will just have to chill...it is best served cold. My entire career has been based on throwing people in wheelchairs, and see those cranes? [The shot fades to the cranes hanging up] I made each one for someone I hurt. There are a lot of them, but there is always room for more. Eighteen more to be exact. This Saturday night, Calgary, battle royal for a shot at the IC belt. This is my chance to kill a lot of birds in one swoop. I get to inflict all kinds of bodily harm on the rest of the IIWF, I get a shot at a belt and I get a chance to make Quigley scream like a little child that lost his mother. I cannot wait. Someone asked me how I am going to survive in there with all the "big time" superstars. I even see Creed is making his comeback. Well, I hate to crush your dreams but I am going to put you back on the shelf along with all the other chumps that get in my way, hear me? You better listen... [Starks opens his eyes and just stares at the cranes] This match comes down to some simple facts: survival, smarts and being ruthless enough to do what it takes to win. I know those facts better than anyone. So, Ike, Creed and all the other chumps you better get right with God because when you get with me, you are just going to get in a coma. I will make a crane for you... [Starks turns his head and stares into the camera with that strange gaze. Fade to next segment] [SCENE: Scott Rogers sitting on a bench in his mirror-filled locker room after Wednesday's loss at the hands of Chris Quigley. Rogers grins as usual although his voice is chilling.] SR: Quigley, you just survived round one -- congratulations. But Scott Rogers has been described as a blob of human super glue -- you don't understand? Well let me spell it out for you. I keep after you week after week, month after month... and you will not shake me off, because you're unable to. But I don't expect to be takin' the title off of _you_ at Ring Wars IV anyhow; you'll never keep hold o' the belt long enough. But no-one, no, _no-one_ gets one over on Scott Rogers.... and gets away with it. Provin' that'll be an honor. [Rogers slicks his short hair back.] SR: And Simon... what the _hell_ were ya playin' at tonight? I mean, I'm thinkin' ya just keepin' me on me toes, like that Chink does to the French guy in the Pink Panther films. And ya did a pretty good job. But not good enough. _But_ if distractin' me was the idea, and _not_ beatin' me up, I gotta give ya ten outta ten. Best o' luck Saturday, I'll be keepin' me fingers crossed for ya! [Fade to next segment.] [The camera opens with a shot of blues skies. Billowy white clouds wisp their way through. The camera pans down and we see Brody Thunder, who stands in front of a building which sports a sign that reads: "Calgary Law Enforcement Dept.". Thunder leans on a police vehicle and smirks.] BT: Well, well, well. Looks like someone's smilin' on the ol' Wolf this week. First... I find out I'm in a battle royal fer a shot at that Intercontinental strap, held by that two-bit Canadian thug Quigley an' then lo-an'-behold Ol' Danny-boy finally gives me my return shot at _my_ belt. The IIWF world title. Ya know what that means, Requiem? It means yer ass is mine, amigo. Tomorrow night I'm gonna earn me a shot at the I-C belt an' next week... I'm takin' _my_ belt back. But I ain't comin' alone, hoss. I been that route before. Now I heard yer sob story 'bout bein' the IIWF's answer ta Rodney Dangerfield... "I git no respect." Well, ya don't get respect, son, until ya earn it. An' ya don't earn it by havin' a gang o' thugs do yer job. But ya say that's all done now. Ya say, "oh I'm gonna be my own man an' fight my own battles." Heh... Right... an' someday Quigley'll be world champ too. The fact o' the matter is... I don't trust ya as far as I can throw ya. So I'll tell ya what _I'm_ gonna do on October 4th, "big man." I got my back covered by two o' the toughest men in this flamin' business in Watkins an' Kowalski. Now we ain't all cozy like y'all in yer little band o' thieves... but I think we can handle anything... or _anybody_... that comes our way. But there is one guy I'm gonna request be at ringside that night, ace. Yer new "buddy"... Casey James. See I _know_ that man. I know if he's hooked up with yer pack then I gotta take... "special" measures ta makes sure he don't stick his ugly beak in my title match. So Requiem, Genesis... an' especially you, "Blackheart". Y'see James... yer gonna be my guest at ringside. I want ya ta get a _real_ good looksee firsthand as I destroy yer "leader" Requiem. An' yer gonna have the best seat in the house, amigo. Right down front at ringside. But that ain't all, ace. I'm bringin' ya a present. A pair o' shiny bracelets. [Thunder pulls out a pair of police handcuffs. He holds them up as he smiles that devilish grin.] Recognize these? Yup. They're handcuffs alright. An' yer gonna wear 'em come October 4th courtesy o' Calgary's finest. Yer gonna be hand-cuffed ta the ringpost where ya can't do any harm an' I can keep a close eye on ya amigo. I've already given the paperwork ta Spreadbury an' I'm _sure_ if he's any kinda stand-up guy... he's gonna see things my way. See that little stunt ya pulled on Verhoeven an' Petrow? That ain't happenin' ta _this_ man. I learned long ago ta hedge my bets. So I figger since yer gonna come down ta ringside anyways... I'd arranged fer the accomodations. Hope ya like 'em, hoss. Requiem... you an' me. One-on-one. I said before man-ta-man ya couldn't beat me. October 4th I'm gonna prove it. It's like my pappy usedta say... "When yer huntin' a bigger nastier animal... ...ya set a bigger nastier trap." October 4th yer comin' ta _my_ trap, Requiem. Bring yer lackeys. Bring yer masked "bodyguard." Bring yer big ego. An' bring _my_ belt. October 4th is yer day o'reckonin', runt. An' yer lookin' at the man who's gonna bring down the carcass o' Genesis an' gut the myth o' Requiem... ...once an' fer all. [Thunder turns and slowly walks out of camera shot as it pans back up to the skies which now have ominous black clouds hovering. A clap of thunder is heard as the shot fades to black, then to the next segment...] [SCENE: A privately chartered Boeing 747, immediately following the stunning return to the IIWF by the red gloved superstar Creed. The 40 young African-American men who were in attendance at the Tokyo Egg Dome are now flying to Calgary, Alberta, Canada - where on IIWF Saturday Night, Creed will begin that long trek back to the belt which he feels rightly belongs to him -- the IIWF Intercontinental Championship. The young men remain jubilant... all now wearing black t-shirts which read in crimson lettering:] "He's Back." [Four particular men, named Mookie, Radio Raheem, Big C and Gus are overheard exalting the return of their hero:] M: Oh....Money is bad, right. B-A-D. Hit that punk ass bitch right on the button, damn! I been waitin' to see that for a long time, right! Fool Quigley with his little leghold...you think Money woulda quit like that Old Punk Dog? Hell, no. RR: Don't know...that Quickstrike pretty tough. BigC: You trippin' now, Raheem. RR: Naw, man check it. I got serious coin that say Quigley don't beg the Big Man to stop hittin' him with the red hand for leas'....two, three seconds, right. "Oh, Mr. Creed -- don't hurt me no more! Oh, Mr. Creed -- please don't hit me in my pretty girl mouth no more! You can have my belt...my lunch money...here, here -- here m girlfriend phone number -- jus' don' hit me with red hand no more Mr. Creed!" [All four men laugh uproariously, slapping hands as the oldest member of the collection -- Gus -- clears his throat as if to speak...the airplane then takes on a hush:] M: Hey, Gus...what'chu got to say, man? BC: Yeah, is Creed the man or what? RR: You been too quiet, Gus -- you think the Big man can come back and deliver some serious beatdowns in Canada this Saturday Night! [Gus slowly strokes his bald head...then with a deep voice speaks.] G: Saturday Night. Battle Royal.... Three words, men... Three words.... Anyone. Anywhere. Anytime. [The plane explodes in applause -- the familiar chants now ring through the plane as the shot fades..] "CREED!...CREED!...CREED!...CREED!.." [Cut back to the studio] LM: What a match that will be! Twenty of the biggest stars in the IIWF battling it out! BL: There's going to be double-crosses, backstabbing, mood swings... All the good stuff. My kind of match. You know that even I will be watching this one closely. LM: Well, that's it for Saturday Night. Be sure to tune in, folks, because it promises to be a great card. Up next, we've got the IIWF Trash Talk segment. ======================================================================== --------------------------IIWF-TRASH-TALK------------------------------- ======================================================================== LM: First up, we've got comments from someone we actually heard from previously tonight. I understand that tomorrow night, we'll hear from the remaining members of Genesis in the aftermath of Requiem's bombshell announcement that he is leaving the group -- but for now, we've got some comments from Serge Annis on his own. Let's roll that tape... [The camera fades into a shot of a group of trees, in the cool, dark shadows of the night. The wind howls against the camera's mic, and the camera man shakes the camera a little, as the wind chills him. The moon is visible above the trees, but the stars are covered over by thick dark clouds. A few rain drops are seen falling from the sky. The camera man moves forward, into the trees. The camera fades away for a moment, and then fades back into a shot as the cameraman approaches a clearing in these woods. A familiar graveyard is our location now, surrounded by a thick layer of tress. In the middle of the clearing lies a lone tree. Sitting against it, is the frame of The Epitome of Evil, Serge Annis. Annis is alone, but has some buckets next to him, filled some sort of liquid. The camera approaches Annis and some names are visible on the tombstones... Deathbringer... Bishop... Stud Stetson... Steve Owens... Annis sees the camera approach, and he sits up. Annis flashes a warm smile to the camera that yet, sends chills down one's spine.] SA: Ah... you arrived. Excellent. I have some things I'd rather like to say. Take a look around you. The graveyard. The one where Serge Annis made many a comment in the IIWF. You have been led to believe, this is my home. This is nearby Oakville, Ontario... this is where Serge Annis comes to collect himself. [Annis stands up now and leans over to lift one of four buckets.] SA: I have not been here in so long. Things have gotten dirty. Nearly as dirty as the minds of the IIWF. As of now, Genesis have "parted ways," shall I say. Requiem has left his cronies... Cold Spell have wisened up... Highwayman has disappeared. Well, regarding Requiem, I am sure you are all thinking he is the rat that first jumped ship. Well Requiem, I cannot say I like your decision, but I agree with you that it is best for all of us that you are gone. [Annis pours some of the liquid over some graves. Alex Kidd... Psychosis... Daniel Spreadbury...] SA: Now that Requiem has gone, maybe now Serge Annis can rise from his 'Requiem's talentless lackey position, and claim something in the IIWF. Well, if you think that, you have not been paying attention. See, I already have been making my claim shall I say... I hold a victory over the IIWF's precious little Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven. When he was number one contender for the World title as well.... it may have been a count out, but Otto would not have wanted to continue. [Annis pours the rest of the bucket over other tombstones. 'Crimson' Joe Reed... Shinja Chow... Ian Zwigart...] SA: Not enough proof for you? Fine. Let's focus now on a man who's name is known forever in IIWF. Dan Kauffman. When was the last we saw of Mr. Kauffman? When he was cattlebustered by The Masked Outlaw? No... we saw him after that. But no one cares to recall it. No one recalls that Serge Annis then pinned Mr. IIWF in the ring, to win the match. Why would anyone recall that? I PINNED DAN KAUFFMAN. Have we heard from him since? No, we haven't. But if the Masked Outlaw wants to steal all the credit, fine. Be that as it may, I pinned Dan Kauffman, something not many people can say in the IIWF. [Annis pours a new bucket over more graves. Fittingly, Dan Kauffman... Andrew Blanchard... Greg Smith... John DeWolfe...] SA: The UWF World championship. Both of those men were former UWF World Champions. But there is one more... Deathbringer. Here is a man that I have wrestled once... and defeated. I won the match, because of a disqualification. See, as much as everyone hates to admit, I won the mind games. Deathbringer thought he had at last found a friend in the 'Epitome of Evil' as The Unholy Alliance... where did he end up? Under my boot when I stomped him in... heh heh, he didn't see it coming. I set him up for a giant fall. A fall which he continues to spiral down today. See... when last we saw of Deathbringer, what was wrong with him? He was mad. He snapped. But upon further look at it... who is responsible? WHO MADE DEATHBRINGER, the mask of death, the master of the mind games... who made him snap? Remember when I jumped him? Remember when I painted the big ol' happy face on the mask of death? I DROVE DEATHBRINGER OUT OF THE IIWF... any credit to me? None. [Annis finishes dumping the buckets over the rest of the tombstones. He smiles as he walks towards the thick layer of trees surrounding the graveyard.] SA: See, I already have been making my claim to fame in IIWF. And whether people realize it or not, is irrelevant. I will still be doing it no matter what. On Saturday, there is the IC Shot, battle royal. Well, you can bet that Serge Annis will make an impact on it. Whether you acknowledge it or not. I am not promising victory, but I am promising defeat. Now, take one good look around you Mr. Cameraman. [The cameraman slowly pans the camera around, showing the graves and the desolate tree. A few more raindrops are seen and some thunder is heard off in the distance.] SA: Take a good, last look at this place. This graveyard represents the image of Serge Annis the IIWF first wanted to create. They gave the illusion this was my dwelling. Well, truth be known we are in Portland, Oregon a mere 50 miles from the IIWF Coliseum. This is what the IIWF created for me. Well, several weeks ago, Otto Verohoeven asked for the 'old' Serge Annis to come back. Well, the 'old' Serge Annis does not hang around tombstones into the wee hours of the night. So, to the illusion that the IIWF has created regarding Serge Annis, I say farewell. Because the 'old' Serge Annis has already arrived, and so far it has not been pretty. [The camera shows Serge's hand strike a match, and Serge throws it at one the graves. Instantly, the grave catches fire. In mere seconds, the entire graveyard goes up in a burning crimson fire as the gasoline Annis poured over the tombstone catches fire. Annis' evil laugh is heard in the background as the tree falls over, aflame. The camera zooms in on a particular tombstone. Through the flame, the name "Serge Annis: IIWF" can be made visible... fade to black.] LM: Could the Epitome of Evil be ready for the superstar spotlight in the IIWF? BL: I doubt it... He's a lackey... It's that simple. He's a jackal... Sure, Annis, you pinned Kauffman... After someone else did the dirty work of actually beating him up. Annis wants desperately to make a name for himself, but he'll always be weighed down by the fact that he's forever in the second fiddle position. LM: Well, I'm sure we'll see how this progresses in the weeks to come. It does seem, however, that without Requiem holding Genesis together, they're falling apart at the seams. BL: Big deal... Good riddance to an eyesore. LM: Moving on, we've got some comments from newcomers to the IIWF, The Natural Predators... BL: Great... More talk of totems and spirit guides and firewater. LM: Brian, please... Let's roll the footage... [back in the locker room, the Natural Predators and manager Kuyler, finishing a training session. Kuyler addresses the camera] KUYLER: Well... looks like we have a little attention here from the Down Boys. Boys...we know you...you may be a little outdated, more than a little showboaty and grandstanding...but on the whole, as weird as you are, there's no real reason for us to fight you. We'll give you that chance if you REALLY feel you have to. Next week...Saturday Night, if you want a match, you've got it. WOLF: Seems to me like the Down Boys are up for a little showboating vs. a little style. I'm good for that. Let the fans here catch a glimpse of the future. [winks at the camera] BEAR: Couple of small guys...don't weigh much more together than I do by myself...the Bear seeking the honey of victory past the bees who will sting and run....trust in the power of these limbs, little men....the spirits have foretold great things for us...and we will achieve them. That is a promise. [Fade] LM: I have a feeling that the Natural Predators will be going far in the IIWF. BL: I wish they'd just go far away, personally. LM: Will you stop? Folks, up next, we've got comments from a man we saw make his debut this past Wednesday. We've been seeing video clips from this guy for a while, and we finally get to hear him speak... Here is the man we know only as "B.G." [SCENE: The IIWF interview area. "B.G." is standing in front of the camera, wearing a white cloak. His eerie looking white eyes seem to stare at a point far behind the camera. His voice sounds like that of a very old man, as he begins to speak] BG: Yet another night of action in the IIWF. Action? Get real. The only fascinating bout on Wednesday night was the one featuring me against Jumping Jackson, or whatever his name is. But the fact that I don't know his name doesn't mean that I don't respect his wrestling abilities. No, au contraire, I even think that he's far more capable and intimidating than that other clown, who goes by the name of - was it Rectum? Whatever, the _mighty_ IIWF had the ability to take a look at greatest wrestler this world has to offer. And no, I'm not talking about that Kickme-guy, or Mother Derek, I'm talking about - me. [The tall "B.G." removes his cloak and a large skull tatoo, which covers his breast, becomes visible] BG: This tatoo once showed the face of a young man, a powerful young man, who had a bright future lying in front of him. But no one gets younger, and this is how he looks today. You want to know what I'm trying to tell you? Well, this especially goes to those fat-bellied IIWF wrestlers who wear gold around their waists. Today you might be a champion, but tomorrow already you could be standing in front of me, in front of the man who sentences you ... to DEATH... ["B.G." turns around, and a second large tattoo, which covers his back, becomes visible] BG: A cross. I guess you know what _this_ means, you oh-so-bright wrestlers of the _mighty_ IIWF. ["B.G." turns around again] BG: Enough talking for today. Afterall, I don't think that you can understand my words of wisdom. But that isn't important if there's a fast-food restaurant somewhere nearby, right, Tonneau? ["B.G." raises his head and looks up towards the ceiling] BG: From now on, I'll watch you, wrestlers of the _mighty_ IIWF. And as you were sure about that already, you still wonder who I am. Well... I am the prosecutor. I am the judge. I am the BLIND GUARDIAN. [Fade] LM: Wow. The Blind Guardian... BL: Oh, I see... Some kind of hand of justice, right? Whatever happened to the last justice freak that was here? What was his name? Oh, yes... Casey James. LM: I don't think we'll be seeing too many parallels between the two. BL: Don't be so sure... The cause is noble and all, don't get me wrong... It's just misplaced in the IIWF... It doesn't belong here. This is the fed ruled by numbers... Ruled by those who band together and take what they want. The Blind Guardian will find that soon enough. LM: You should conduct motivational speeches, Brian. BL: And why not? Look at the success I've seen throughout my life. Anyone in their right mind would wish that they were me. You wish you were me, don't you Larry? Admit it... You do... LM: Oh, yeah, Brian... Sure thing... Folks, we're just about out of time for this week. Be sure to tune in tomorrow night for Saturday Night, and again next week when we take a good look at next week's card... For Brian Lau, this is Larry Morton saying, "Drive straight, and always have a clean pair of undies in the glove compartment." BL: Where the hell do you come up with these things? LM: I, ummm... I make them up. BL: It figures... Folks, tune in next week to see me ridicule Larry Morton for another hour... Watching anything else is just stupid... [With that, the closing credits scroll by, and the camera shot once again cuts to an aerial view of the Saddledome. 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+