________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| |\ /| /\ |\ | | /\ \ / | || | \ v v / | __| | v |/ \| \| __| /__\ \/ |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| | |\ /| |/ |/ \/ | | \/ | |\_// /\ |\ /| | _ | / __ / __ | v | | | / \ . |\ | / \ / \ | | | | \__ | | \| | __ \__ 29 September 1997| | | | \ | | | \__| \ .....................|..v_____/.|.|..|____|____/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Requiem ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The IIWF interview area, some time after IIWF Saturday Night. Requiem stands deep within the shadows, only his outline visible. As he speaks his head rises up, and the twin white orbs that are his eyes peer out with chilling menace] RQ: Casey James, it seems, is now some sort of pathetic wretch who's had a breakdown and is now aiding his former "hated enemy." I don't buy it. Brody Thunder says that Casey James is the newest member of Genesis. News to me. Brody Thunder used to be allies with Casey James, now they're bitter enemies. Apparently. Mind you, Brody Thunder & Steve Kowalski once didn't get on too well, and now they're buddies. So, maybe Casey and Brody are still buddies? Maybe this is all some sort of mindgames, maybe even a plot to confuse the situation? I'd buy THAT for a dollar. So, yeah, Brody Thunder, you handcuff Casey James to ringside. BUT, if you do that, I want Casey James handcuffed with a set of cuffs supplied by me as well. You don't trust James? Well, neither do I, so fair is fair. TWO sets of handcuffs. One from you. One from me. Two or nothing, Thunder. Two or nothing. Anyway, I was backstage when some cute little kid walked up to me, and do you know what he said? He said, "Mr Requiem, now you're not in Genesis, does that mean you're going to be nice to people?" Well, after I kicked that lovable little brat halfway down the hallway, I told him no way. I'm on my own, sure, but I'm still the Angel of Destruction, and you don't earn that title by playing by the old Queensbury rules, boys and girls. Brody Thunder wants the belt bad. I _need_ the belt, and I aim to keep it. Brody Thunder thinks I'm not man enough to keep this belt, right? Well, keep thinking that, Thunder. I want to see that look of surprise on your face when I lift you to the heavens and plant you headfirst in the ground. I aim to prove to the whole IIWF and it's fans that I'm fit to hold this belt, and I don't care who I have to go through to prove it. Even Brody Thunder. ESPECIALLY Brody Thunder. Brody, I don't care if you think I cheated to keep this belt, the facts of the matter are clear: I hold this belt. I'm 6'10". I'm 306lbs. I _am_ destruction incarnated in human form. Win, lose, or draw... you WILL be hurt. If I retain this belt, I'm going to raise it to the heavens to show all the fans. If _you_ win the belt, you're not going to be able to do that. They're going to be too busy carrying you out on a stretcher. I say it every time: "From this day forth, until the end of time, there can be no mercy for the damned!" Saturday night, I'm gonna do my damnedest to provide an object lesson in just what that means! [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Brody Thunder walks into the IIWF interview area. He stops with his back to the camera and appears to be looking at something in his hands. He shakes his head side-to-side and then leans his head back as if looking at the ceiling.] BT: Are y'all shocked? Are y'all jus' shakin' yer heads in disbelief at findin' out jus' who the "Masked Outlaw" is? Well, ya shouldn't be. After all... [Thunder turns around and faces the camera. A stream of blood trickles down his forehead,a reminder of the evening's events.] ...I told ya so. My ol' friend Casey James... "the Masked Outlaw". Got himself a case o' crazies... accordin' ta his pardner Claw. Hmph. James... a nutjob? It don't figger. An' I ain't takin' any chances. So James... lissen up ace. Yer gonna be cuffed ta that ringpost next Saturday night if I hafta drag yer basket-weavin', crazy ass down there _myself_. You an' that pack o' rats ya called the Syndicate done had plenty o' shots at this man. [Thunder twirls the smiley-faced mask on his finger. He looks at it and his smile disappears. He then stops and looks back into the camera.] BT: I ain't givin' ya another, son. Nah... I'm gonna keep ya where ya can do no harm. Then I'm gonna take apart that upstart runt who's been rentin' _my_ strap since the Clash. [Thunder spits a stream of blood to the floor and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. As the hand leaves his mouth the evil grin then returns. Through bloodstained teeth he speaks...] BT: Requiem... yer time's up, boy. Five sunsets from now yer gonna find yerself facin' the one man you know you can't beat straight up. Hell... ya can't beat anyone man-ta-man. Ya done proved that time an' again. Havin' yer lackeys come down an' save yer bacon don't make ya much a champion, ace. It makes ya dependant. Dependant on others ta get the job done fer ya. Well you an' yer pack o' pole- cats are about ta meet folks who don't cotton much ta bullies an' can more'n handle themselves in a scrap. As fer you "big man"... [Brody slaps his elbowpad in mock clothesline fashion.] BT: ...ya better be at yer best, hoss. The peak o' yer game. Cuz we all know that ya can talk a big game... now we're gonna find out if ya can play. Ya stole that gold strap from me once. Shame on me. Ya ain't gonna have that luxury again. Cuz you can bet yer bottom dollar that when that bell rings Saturday night I'm gonna come after ya with everythin' I got. This ain't jus' a title match, bub. This is payback time. Now ya can bring all o' yer friends, Rogers, Highwayman, Annis, hell, bring Santa Claus if ya want. I don't care an' it ain't gonna change the outcome one bit. Y'see when I walk that aisle Saturday night I'm walkin' inta history. Whether folks hate me or like me... I don't give a flyin' fig. But after Saturday night there's one thing they'll hafta do. An' that's call me champ. So Requiem m'boy... here's what yer gonna do. Yer gonna shut that flamin' piehole o' yers, lace up them booties an' drag yer hide down ta that ring on Saturday night. We're gonna hook 'em up an' then I'm gonna show ya what that world title strap's been missin' the last two months... ...a _real_ champion. The myth that is Genesis is about ta be exposed fer the fraud it is. Ain't no one gonna be able ta save yer precious lil band's tail. It's checkout time, amigo. You get yer hat an' coat... I'll get the door. Saturday night... it'll be open fer ya an' you'll have two choices onn how ya wanna leave the throne. Ya can either walk out the door... or be carried out. Think it over. Ya got till Saturday ta decide which it's gonna be, hoss. After that, I'll be makin' the decision fer ya. An' ya ain't gonna like _my_ choice. [Thunder once agains spits crimson to the floor.] BT: See ya Saturday "champ". Be there on time. After all, ya wouldn't wanna keep history waitin', would ya? [Thunder walks off the interview set twirling the smiley mask on his finger. Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Chris Quigley ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The IIWF Interview Area. Saturday Night has been over for a half hour or more. "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley, wearing jeans, leather jacket, silver shades, and the IIWF Intercontinental Title around his waist, strides into the cameras view.] CQ: I always liked surprises. I thought Creed wanted it. I thought Creed wanted me. But obviously, he doesn't have the guts, the heart, or the desire to step up to that next level. He couldn't get by 19 other pretenders for the chance to face me at Ring Wars IV. So now, Creed, I'm going to give it to you straight. Next week. IIWF Saturday Night. The champion is challenging _you_ to a title match. I'm not hiding behind anything or anyone. I was dissapointed in your performance tonight, because there's nothing I'd like more than to rip off that stupid lookin' red glove, and shove it down your throat! The ball's in your court. I've laid my cards down on the table. Now, I'll play the waiting game. I'll just see if you can string together enough syllables to accept my challenge. [Quigley removes the shades.] CQ: So Duncan Macbeth is the big winner, eh? Or the big loser. Depends on your point of view, I guess. I'll give credit where credit is due, you outlasted 19 guys, although the only one in there with even a fraction of talent was Kowalski. But all that aside, it's you and me at Ring Wars. For once, I find myself wondering what I'm in store for. To be honest, I don't know too much about you. But don't worry even one little bit. I learn fast. I've never even really heard of you before all this, Macbeth. But, as fate would have it... I NEVER lose to someone I've never heard of! [He removes the title belt and holds it up.] CQ: You want this? Hell, _everyone_ wants this. Problem is, it's around my waist, so _nobody_ can get it! [Quigley walks off the set, but before the camera fades, the squeaky wheels of Steve Manning's wheelchair are heard once again. He wheels into the camera's view wearing black jean shorts and a black t-shirt with "Will Kill For Food" written across the front in red. He looks into the camera, with a weird grin on his face...] SM: Ring Wars IV, Duncan Macbeth. We'll be there with bells on! And you... well, you can just wear your lil' plaid skirt! [Manning gives an unsettling laugh, and then suddenly, his face turns stone serious. He stares into the camera for a few more moments, then turns, and wheels off the set, in the direction Quigley went. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Creed ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Immediately following his elimination in the Road to Ring Wars Four Battle Royal, the red gloved superstar Creed sits in a makeshift IIWF interview area backstage at the Calgary Saddledome. Creed is the picture of exhaustion - a red bandage hurredly placed on his forehead to stem the torrent of blood, a red heating pad strappd to his lower back -- and a red icepack affixed to his noticeably swollen right knee.] C: Damn. I been through a war or two in the Double Eye over the past year. Cage matches...gang attacks....the Brit had me in that leghold damn close to 8 minutes...Once threw down with 13 guys in one night.... Maybe you heard 'bout that one. But I don't think I ever hurt in so many places from so many diff'rent guys like I do right now. The knee....that yours, Warnett. The back....chokeslam from Annis. The forehead....maybe we look like twins tonight, Cowboy. The hand...that your boy, Quigley? Your no-legged boy want to be part of the game -- I gonna treat his ass like he part of the game. Yeah....hurt pretty good. Ain't no Nuprin gonna take care of me tonight. But that okay...that okay...I do my business like a pro. One thing I learned from that Dog -- you do your work...you don't complain....and you get yo' ass home. But you don't get that, do you Quigley? You don't get that there a time and place for everything -- and our time -- you and me, Quigley... well, it come and gone. But you really want to go -- don't you? You really feelin' like the man...and you want to lay it out next Saturday Night 'gainst the best wrestler in the building. You want to prove to your buddies and your girl and all your little kid fans that you still the "Quickstrike"...that you still the superstar....that you the real legend. You want Creed, Quigley? You want Creed? You got him. Saturday Night. Me and you...one_more_time. You think I hurt now, Quigley? You think I hurt now? [Creed begins to slowly toss all of the various health aids toward the camera...the pad...the ice...even the bandage comes ripping away, a trickle of blood beginning to re-emerge from the face of Creed.] C: You never knew what hurt was until next Saturday Night. I gonna hurt you in ways you never dreamed of. Creed gonna kick your ass, Quigley. Bet on it. [Creed knocks the stool over as the shot fades.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Duncan Macbeth ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Duncan Macbeth strides jubilantly into the IIWF interview area moments after winning the 20 man battle royal for the right to face the Intercontinental Champion at Ring Wars IV, and lets loose with an ear-splitting "WHOOOOOOO!" in celebration of his victory. The Scot is battered, bloodied, but definitely unbowed, his long ruddy hair a wild tangle, the sheen of sweat covering his body gleaming in the bright television lights, and an even brighter gleam illuminating his piercing jade-green eyes as he turns to the camera.] DM: Surprised, tossers? Yis shouldn't be. I certainly wasn't. I've been trainin' fer matches like tha' battle royal since the days when I'd walk in t' th' pubs in Glenfinnan an' be th' only man not stretchered out afterwards. I wanted a shot at th' Intercontinental title, an' Spreadbury was kind enough t' give me th' perfect means t' get it, th' kind o' match I'm perfectly suited for. In my mind there was absolutely no doubt that I was goin' t' Ring Wars with a title shot. I outlasted eighteen men tonight, more than anyone else in tha' whole match, an' I'm standin' 'ere now, th' victor. Tha's got t' worry ye just a wee bit, does it no', Quigley? Yis all ken I can wrestle wi' the best, both on th' mat, in th' air, an' in th' back alley. But now, yis ken tha' I can step in tha' ring wi' eighteen men, an' be th' last man standin' after an hour o' blood, sweat, an' tears. Now yis ken tha' Duncan Macbeth can go, an' he can keep goin' all night 'till 'e gets wha' 'e wants. An' I want tha' Intercontinental Title. Like I've wanted nothin' else me whole career. Maybe it'll be ye I face at Ring Wars, Quigley, maybe not. There's much tha' can happen by then, an' personally, I dinnae give a damn who I have t' wrestle. But there's one thing tha' yis all can count on... [Macbeth leans closer into the camera, his emerald eyes burning intensely.] DM: At Ring Wars, the IIWF Intercontinental Title will be MINE. Dinnae be surprised. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Serge Annis ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene fades into the IIWF backdrop, with Serge Annis standing in front. Annis flashes a sick smile, and then freezes up his emotion.] SA: Well well well... number nineteen... several elliminations, and the last man to be elliminated. Some men would be unhappy with not winning. Well, I am not exactly thrilled to tears that I didn't win, but at least I dumped out someone who ticked me off. I am referring to this, Creed. Welcome back to the IIWF, I hope I didn't spoil your return. Heh heh... but Marty Warnett cost me a victory nonetheless. Marty, I was told you and I have the opportunity to wrestle this upcoming Saturday. Well, Party Boy, you won't party much longer, because The Epitome of Evil has been invited. And when Serge Annis gets invited, who knows what's going to happen. [Serge looks set to leave, but then leans back as he remembers something else.] SA: It looks like people are still biting off more than they can chew. Mota, Lebec, Creed... just about everyone. Well, tonight the Masked Outlaw has been unmasked, there's no more mystery. It's time for everyone to calme down and get over it. This Outlaw isn't good enough to be Genesis, and that is that. And Scott and Highwayman, after tonight I hope things have become clear... Genesis works outside as a team, and when it comes to getting the job done inside the ring... well... either way the ball is in Genesis' court. Party Boy, I'll see you Saturday... I know I can't wait for a good party.... heh heh. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Luke Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade up to the IIWF interview area; Luke Steele stands before the camera, clutching his ESWP TV title in one hand and with a chair in the other. He grins at the camera.] LS: All right, finally got that quote unquote mystery solved. Casey James, I'm not surprised. A lowlife, cheating piece of Syndicate trash isn't any different from a lowlife, cheating piece of Genesis trash. No offense Claw. To the matters at hand now. I didn't win the battle royal, but neither did Turner so the evening's a success. So, Subway Psycho, upset at me are you? Well, that's too bad. See you in a week. Scott Rogers, once a loser always a loser. Highwayman, ditto. Goodnight, baby dolls. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Timothy N. Turner ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Timothy N. Turner is backstage at the saddle dome. He has a big smile on his face.] TT: What a night! My good friend Duncan is in line to take home the Intercontinental gold at Ring Wars and I'm thrilled! Some people might think that I am mad because it was Duncan's actions that knocked me out of the ring, but no! Do you think for a second if it came down to me and him that I wouldn't have done the same thing? Duncan knows that and that's good enough for me. Soundbite said it best...we just might be the strongest stable in the IIWF! [Turner starts to leave and then stops and faces the camera again.] TT: So what does TNT do now? It's true that I still have a score to settle with Luke Steele, but that should be easy enough. I mean, it's not like he's any good. What about after that? Duncan and I face what's left of Genesis on Saturday. That should prove once and for all that we are everything that Genesis never could be... that is... talented. Then I have a decision to make. Despite the IIWF's best efforts at keeping Timothy N. Turner in feuds with prelim bums like Luke Steele and Kevin Christiensen, it's obvious that I deserve some gold. Steele, Paris, and Shakespeare conspired to knock me out of the cruiserweight tournament. Duncan is going after the Intercontinental gold. That's leave Requiem and the Syndicate. THat's a hard decision since they would both be fairly easy to beat. Hmmmm....I'll have to think about that one. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Ike Sampson ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Ike Sampson stands on the IIWF Soundstage after Saturday Night's Event, with his knee wrapped in ice as a result of the Tony Starks' leghold. Beside him stands new "mentor"--for lack of a better term--Jackson Witt.] IS: What the hell was that?!? I get blindsided -- out of the crowd?!? That's twice now -- two shots at the title, lost due to some chickens[BLEEP] mother[BLEEP] who won't face me like a man! What the hell's going on?! Starks -- did you have that bastard jump me?!? 'Cause believe me, tossin' you outta that battle royal's only the beginning. You got a lot more pain comin' from where that came from. You think that little leghold's gonna take me out?!? You better come with a lot more than that... [Witt leans over and whispers something in Ike's ear.] IS: What?! Wednesday night?! For real?! [A big grin breaks across Ike's face.] IS: It's about time... We're gonna put that old dog to sleep... And that's the truth... [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "One Man Army" Dakota Bundy ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The James Belushi alike, "The Mouth" Matt Malone stands in front of the IIWF logo with "One Man Army" Dakota Bundy] MM: Bundy, that was a great start. Really was. TNT got to experience first hand...or should I say first "Firearm"...exactly how explosive you are. And then, welllllll, you did your job didn't you? And it took two of them to get you out. Not too much to feel bad about. But of course, there is always room for improvement. Always. So we're going to forget the rumble, forget the areas that you aren't so strong on... and concentrate on what we know you do well... one on one match ups... causing people to sccccrrrrreeeeeaaaaaaaammmmm! [Bundy nods his head enthusiastically and grins a toothless grin] MM: The IIWF's been here a long time now... it's seen a lot of people come, it's seen a lot of people go... but it's never seen anyone quite like "The One Man Army" Dakota Bundy. Men, move aside, the real man is here. [Both men laugh as the picture fades.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Dexter St. Croix ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [A battered and bruised Dexter St. Croix, dressed in black nylon sweat pants and a white Florida Marlins t-shirt, stands in front of an IIWF banner, being supported under both shoulders by Matty and BoBo, the two male members of his posse. The female members of the Posse are not present. Dexter, a large bandage on his forehead, raises his head to address the camera...] DS: Mota. I gotta 'and it to ya, ya put one over on ol' Dex tonight, mon. I never t'ought ya'd hit me b'fore de match like dat. By de way, BoBo, t'anks for takin' one for de team, mon. [BoBo, a small bandage over his left eye, nods in acknowledgement] DS: But Mota, your aggression was a sure sign of fear, mon. Ya didn't want to face ol' Dex in de ring, so ya took de fight outta de ring. Well, Derek, if dat's de way ya wanna play, den dat's de way we gonna play, mon. Ol' Dex is tired o' takin' bumps and comin' away empty-handed. So, Mota, next time we meet, and trus' me, dere will be a next time, mon, ya gonna see ol' Dex fightin' fire wid fire. Peace out. [Dex hobbles away, supported by Matty and BoBo. Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Derek Mota ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Derek Mota walks onto the makeshift interview area immediately following his matchup with Dexter St. Croix. Mota is sweating profusely, and is looking a little ragged. ] DM: Dammit! St. Croix, you put up a good fight, ya little runt! Ya know, most people woulda just packed it in right from the start, so I'll give ya credit there, you're a tough little bugger... but you know what they say ... Mota's the toughest little bastard in the IIWF. You played my game and I beat you in the end. But you're worth watchin', kid, I'll make sure to keep an eye out for ya in the future. And I got one little conceited little bugger running around, thinking he's calling the shots in the Cruiserweight Division. I think it's time he gets put down to earth here, and I think the Heatseeker's the man ta do it. Shakespeare, you've been whining away at how I don't deserve to be the champ, how it should be you and Paris at Ring Wars IV for the Cruiserweight Title. Last thing I recall is that Lebec beat ya tonight, so why do you deserve a shot at the title? Ya bow out of the tourney, and expect ta be given the title on a silver platter? Well Mota don't work that way, boy. Hell, I might give you a shot with the title ... WHAM!!! ... right in the head! And when you're lyin' there like a vegetable, just remember that you asked for it ... so you still wanna challenge me? Go ahead and challenge me, Billy boy. I don't back down from nuthin'. [Fade out] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Ronnie Paris ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Standing in front of the typical IIWF background is a rather unpleased looking Texan by the name of Ronnie Paris. Paris glares into the camera, his trademark neutral expression ruined by a scowl. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but stops himself, and through a noticeable effort controls his facial expressions to a neutral mask. He speaks in a calm, if somewhat strained tone.] RP: Tonight, I wrestled in a battle royal. I found out I was _in_ the battle royal about an hour beforehand. Luckily, I drew number 20 and made a good showing of myself, but yet again the IIWF shows its disdain for me. I'll forget about that, though, and dwell on the positive... I made a spectacular debut in the commentating field. Someone get me Larry Morton's job, I think I'll like working with Becks and Brian. Secondly, I watched Little Willie display his lack of gonads one more time as he no-showed a tournament match just because in the rare event that he might win a match, he'd have to fight me again. Fear does not become you, Shakes. In fact, I'm on such a roll as a commentator, I have to reaffirm that I can still kick ass as a wrestler. So, I'll tell ya what... I'm working on a contract in which I'm issuing a challenge to three different wrestlers... in one night! It's never been successfully done before, but once I go through El Super Gecko, Jumpin' Jack, and Triple M in one night everyone will see Ronnie Paris as the true star he is! One other thing... the Cruiserweight tournament. I'm winning. Plain and simple. I'll elaborate on Friday, but for now that's all I got to say. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Billy Shakespeare ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Billy Shakespeare stands backstage, sweating. A trickle of blood runs down his cheek from his lacerated forehead, his eye is already beginning to blacken.] BS: Ronnie Paris, I told you that I was going to let you win the Cruiserweight title. I'm keeping my promise...now what about you? Why were you even in that Intercontinental battle royal? Is your ego as big as your mouth? How glorious it will be when I beat you for that same belt. It is such stuff as dreams are made of, sadly for you, your title reign will have as much substance. I may be out of the prodduction for the nonce, but it's still a one man show. Anything can happen and probably will. Betcha can't wait to see how it ends. [Billy runs his hand through his hair, a small shower of glass falls from it, catching the light and twinkling before shattering on the floor. Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Scott Rogers ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scott Rogers stands before an IIWF backdrop wearing his wrestling trunks only. He's not wearing his trademark grin.] SR: Hey, tonight everyone who saw the show'd better remember where ya were, 'cause I gotta say it was a Scott Rogers feast from start to finish, huh? And it marked the first night of New Genesis. Ya think we _seriously_ can't 'operate' without Requiem, then ya more stupid than ya look. Yeah, Mota, I'm aimin' that at _you_ mainly buddy, but yeah it goes for mosta the fans out there too. [Rogers grins at the camera, as if looking specifically at someone.] SR: Ya like the way he thinks he's gonna beat me in a cage? 'Cause I do. Alot. Yeah, the guy can't beat me when he's got all the room in the soddin' world, but he thinks if he confines me he's gotta chance? Dream on, Mota. Just dream on... [Rogers, as usual, begins to walk off set but pauses then speaks again.] SR: And Simon... I told ya once, ya don't need to attack me to prove ya worth me investment. I got all the confidence in the world in ya buddy! And I think we proved to _everyone_, especially Christiansen we're gonna be makin' a few waves when we get it goin' for real, buddy. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Kevin "The Cavalier" Christiansen ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The IIWF interview area, where Kevin Christiansen is standing after the battle royal. The crowd can still be heard popping outside as the match continues.] KC: Scott Rogers... thou hast stepped over the line. I accepted thy hand in a gesture of sportsmanship and fair play, and thou hadst the AUDACITY to strike me down in the midst of it. Know this, Rogers... neither thy "comrades" in Genesis, nor thy ability in the ring, nor ANYTHING shall stop me from repaying this slight come Wednesday. Nothing. [Scene fades out as Christiansen walks off the set.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Machines ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The Machines are standing in front of the IIWF interview area. Simon O'Neal has a smug expression on his face, while Paul Wong looks more serious and concerned] SO: I told you it'd work. PW: Yeah, it did. It still felt... wrong, though. SO: Look, for the last time -- there was nothing wrong with letting Cold Spell and the Harlequins bash each other while we waited to take advantage of it. It was within the rules. PW: But there's more to it than being in the rulebook. SO: [Rolling his eyes] Listen. Cold Spell basically told us to get out of the way. All of the fans we were talking to wanted to see the Harlequins and Cold Spell battle. If both teams want to try and kill each other, great. We just gave everyone what they wanted. PW: All right, all right. But if either teams wants a rematch, we'll give it to them. SO: Sure, whatever. Hell, we beat them both... beating one at a time should be a piece of cake. {Smirks at the camera} [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Natural Predators ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Images of Native American artifacts in the background are superimposed over images of the Natural Predators in action. Kuyler Grayson's voice is heard over the action] KG: Best of the best, boys. The Natural predators have come a long way from the quiet circuit. As you see here, talent can't be contained in a small forum. IIWF, babe, as big as it gets. And nothing here can stop them from hitting the heights as well... Down Boys, you made the challenge...and we're gonna have to make our presence known big time. Sorry to know you'll be the first to fall to Natural Selection, but somebody's gotta be the first. Might as well be you. No hard feelin's. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Damage, Inc. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene is backstage in an empty locker room at the Calgary Saddledome. The camera pans up and down and all around and finds no one until suddenly the camera shifts down to a bench where it finds "The Ace" Alex Porteaux lying flat on his back. He is wearing his ring gear from the match and has a cut over his left eye that he has chosen not to have patched up. As the camera gets closer and closer one notices... that he's laughing maniacally as if he just heard the funniest joke ever told.] AP: [still laughing] I was right... HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA... I WAS RIGHT! Damnit all ta heck I was RIIIIIGHT! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA! I didn't want to be... I shouldn't have been... BUT I WAS RIGHT! AAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAAA!! [Jeandra walks into the shot, a little the worse for wear. She stands above Porteaux, arms crossed and wearing a "DISCO INFERNO" t-shirt over her gown.] JE: What my enigmatic Cajun friend is trying to say... well, remember when we spoke a few days ago? You remember that, don't you? I sat here and wondered if the Prophets of Rage were really sure that they could beat us up front. We wondered aloud all together if they really still had it. And now we sit here beaten... bruised... and ask ourselves: why did it take six people? Wasn't this supposed to be the job of two men, if not two men and a woman? I look across the ring... I see two women, and two more men waiting in the wings. I see what this means. It's like they say, there's strength in numbers... [Porteaux is STILL laughing his fool head off when Eddy Ramos comes into the shot -- and boy, is he BOILING! He sits besides Porteaux -- actually, he shoves Porteaux right off the bench to the floor, but Porteaux doesn't notice, because he's STILL laughing his ass off.] JE: I can admire it. A family. A family's strength is in numbers. They protect themselves from each other... from the outside... from threats... ooops. Did I say that? Did I say "threats"? You don't see us as a THREAT do you, Rages? ER: Why you think they jumped us? Why you think they called out the whole Rage family? It wasn't to show off and posture. That's not the Rages. That's not who they are. They did it... AP: [STILL laughing] They did it to try and finish us off! They... they... JE: [looks down at Porteaux on the floor] Just what are you trying to say, Ace? [Ace POPS up to the front of the screen, suddenly looking VERY intense and not exactly laughing any more.] AP: Ah'm saying... they seemed a bit concerned is all, mon ami. It SEEMS to me that they were trying to finish the job, right then and there! Why not call out the whole troop? Why NOT call out the whole tribe for a good ol' fashioned outnumbered STOMPDOWN? _WHY_ _NOT_ CALL THE WHOLE DAMN COUNTRY OF CANADA TO COME AGAINST US?! HUH?! JE: Like that's gonna do anything... AP: So THAT'S the Prophets of Rage, eh? THAT'S the best tag team in the world, huh? Let me ask ya somethin, cher... do Allah and Starks do ya laundry too? JE: Probably not. Look at Unique Allah... can't SPELL laundry... AP: We ain't tryin' ta trade insults, JeJe. We tryin' ta git the facts straight. The facts IS, I saw six people on their side... three on ours. ER: But they're the best tag team in the world, Ace. They're just trying to protect themselves. Can you blame them? Wouldn't you want some cover if you saw US coming at you? Wouldn't you want to get rid of us as SOON as you possibly could? Wouldn't you wanna kick 'em and punch 'em and chair 'em and drop 'em and BEAT THE EVERLOVING MESS OF WHACK BULL[beep] OUT OF THEM BY HITTIN' EM WITH CHAIRS AND TABLES AND STICKS AND PIPES BASHING THEIR [beep]ING SKULLS IN BEFORE THEY GET A CHANCE TO MAKE A MOVE AND KEEP THEM FROM TOUCHING YOUR OH SO [beep]ING PRETTY REPUTATION?! _HUH_?! [At this point Ramos is so up on the camera, the cameraman has taken an awkward position looking skyward at the massive Ramos. Jeandra comes to his left, Porteaux to his right. A drop of drool drips on to the camera lens and Ramos breathes heavy like a rabid dog ready to fight.] AP: We don't need to say another word, Rages. You do the math. Six on three. We not the best anymore... you are. But you need four extra to get the job done. We send HER [points to Jeandra] home to Vancouver anytime day or night... can YOU keep Pizzazz, Dalbello or Madusa away? Can you keep Starks or Allah from your back? I don't think they want to stay back. They want to make sure you walk out the ring alive every time. And believe me, Prophets of Rage... I don't [bleep]ing blame dem. Dateline... lifeline... FLATLINE. Remember dat the next time you see us, Rages. If we got to, we take your whole clan with us to hell... AN' we come back from it. Time and time again. Ask you'self, "can _I_ say the same? Or do I need insurance policy? Do I need DAMAGE insurance?" ER: We got your answer to our last question. And we don't like it one bit. JE: We're not judge, jury or executioner, Rages. But we _WILL_ make sure your insecure asses... DI: _DIE_ _IN_ ___DARKNESS___!!!!! ER: [whispers] Let's get it on... [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Prophets Of Rage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The Prophets of Rage stand before the set with Medusa and Pizzazz. Shadoe is shirtless, hair tied back into a ponytail. His face is intense, hard like scraped bone. Derek is as cocky and confident as ever. Pizzazz and Medusa are in the background, beaming.] SR: There's carnage and then there's carnage, isn't there? Damage Inc., you haven't impressed us yet. You just showed us exactly what we knew about you, tough, bone-bending, strong as oxen, but where's the intelligence? Where's that extra special something that's going to take you past the Prophets of Rage? DR: Damage, Inc., you made some pretty speeches about us having to beat you and us having to save face. That just told me you don't understand a thing about us. We like it better being the underdogs. We work from a position of loss. We aren't protecting any championships. And we damn sure aren't trying to please anybody. You know what that means? SR: It means we're going to come right at you and let it all hang out. See, the Prophets of Rage have been cooling their heels while the rest of the division catches up. But now that a worthwhile opponent has finally reared his head we're going to show you exactly what it is that makes the Prophets of Rage the greatest tag-team in the world. DR: You never know what you're going to get. Who you're going to get it from or when it's going to come. SR: All you know is that you will die in darkness. [Fade out with Shadoe pressing his face tight into the camera and gritting his teeth in his best LOD impression.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+