[Footage from the animated film "Lord of the Rings" begins to play.  Elves battle orcs... goblins scratch tooth and nail with dark creatures... as the Ring Wars come to a cresendo.  There is heard the whistle of a falling bomb.  Suddenly the film begins to melt into burnt multicolor goo, and from the newly formed hole spins this logo:]                           ________      ______                           | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|                           | || | \ v  v / | __|                           |_||_|  \_/\_/  |_|                         __ __       __ _______  ___                  |    //_  / | /| //_ /__   / | /__|\__/                  | / //   /  // |//      \ /  //   /  /                  |/|//__ /__//  //_______//__//   /__/                        ___  ___      ___   ________                  |    //__| /__\     /__\  /  //  //|/|                  | / //   //   \    /   \ /  //  // / |                  |/|//   //    /   /    //__//__//    |                  --------------------------------------                             October  1  1997                                 *LiVE* From The IIWF Studios                             Portland, Oregon [The camera pans over a mostly empty studio set.  A table has been hastily set up, an IIWF banner tacked to the wall,  "IIWF War Rom" has been hastily scrawled on a piece of tag board and taped to the front of the table.  A few cans of fresh paint can be seen to one side.  A cheerful Larry Morton sits next to an exhausted Becky LaRue.  Dark sunglasses cover the eyes of the latter, and she wears a rumpled "I. I. WAR ROOM. F." t-shirt which appears to have been slept in.] LM: Welcome to War Room! BL: Not so loud.  Not so loud. LM: We must apologize for the state of affairs of the studios here in     Portland this week, it seems the renovation wasn't finished as fast as was hoped... BL: What happened was this: some idiot, who, for sake of clarity, we'll     call "Larry", announced on the air that we would be in North Carolina this week, so the painting crew immediatly went to work.  But we DIDN'T go to Carolina, now did we, Larry? LM: Well, no. BL: So this week we're coming to you from the "War Rom". LM: That's not the only thing that looks bad this morning.  What happened to you? BL: Last night was our producer's thirtieth birthday.  That litle redhead he's dating can sure throw a party. LM: There was a party... and I wasn't invited? BL: Like that is some sort of new thing to you. LM: I've given some of my best years to this company and I think I deserve a little respect.  In the past I've always dismissed the comments of Dan Kauffman, Joe Petrow and Ronnie Paris as egotistical prattle, but now I understand.  I won't let this go on any longer.  Gimme an "R"... Gimme an "E" ... BL: LARRY!  Last night I ate a life sized mold of Tonnage made out of     Jello and Everclear.  Do that again, and I... WILL... kill... you. LM: ...but.... BL: [bringing out a taser gun]  Do you know what this is?  The IIWF staff doesn't like them... but I can see where it would be quite useful right now. LM: I guess I'm not _that_ big a loser, though. BL: How do you figure that? LM: I didn't wager a date on Tony Starks winning the intercontinental     Battle Royal. BL: It was rigged!  The suits wanted to play a joke on little Becky and     they made Starks lose.  They offered bounties to the wrestler that     could force him out.  It was fixed! LM: How do you feel about tuna melts?  I know this great place downtown     where they serve the BEST tuna melt.  And you can call the waitress     "mom".  And the Lions Club has these great little mints at the front     counter you can donate a quarter for.  Oh, and there's a free     toothpick dispenser. I think you'll like it. [There is a yip of pain as Becky weilds the taser with deadly effect.] The screen is briefly replaced with a photo of Duncan Macbeth clobbering Ike Sampson, a spray of blood ascending towards the camera.   A byline at the bottom reads:  "The IIWF:  Where Dreams Come True."] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Blind Guardian vs. "Nifty" Ned Norton ------------------------------------------------------------------------     For a man who dominated in size like the Blind Guardian did, this     match remained remarkably even.  Guardian entered with the same eerie theatrics of the week before:  White Gown, flowing beard, strange white eyes, punctuated by the skull and cross tatoos on his torso.     During the match, B.G. consistantly missed on opportunities to put     Norton away, and once took a two count.  Finally, however, he seized     his moment and dispatched Ned with the "Gates to Hell" five     powerslam combination. RESULT: Blind Guardian by pinfall LM: I can't figure this man. He has the size, some speed and talent, yet     he has yet to dominate the way he should. BL: Could it be because he is 98 years old?  I think he's even older than Watkins.  But forget wrestling ability, we all know the name of the game is marketing, and this guy is as odd as they come.  Very odd. LM: But he does touch a certain nerve in the crowd, and he doesn't lack     for a following.  Is he a man... or a myth? BL: I could ask the same thing of you. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Licensed for Destruction vs. The Rotundos ------------------------------------------------------------------------     LFD had no respect for their corpulant opponents, and showed it in     the ring.  The referee kept up a constant liturgy of warnings against eye jabs, hair pulling and closed hand shots.  Starr and Chaos just laughed and soaked up the boos from the crowd.  With Starr distracting the ref, Chaos unlaced the turnbuckle pad, ramming the opposing Rotundos head into it until a trickle of blood appeared.  Chaos asked the crowd if they wanted to see more blood, but instead, LFD executed their "Breach of Contract" powerbomb/legdrop.  After the pin, they pulled the other Rotundo into the ring and crowned him with a "Breach" also.  It was while they continued to kick their downed opponants, the ring bell chiming repetitively, that The High Plains Drifters rushed ringside.  To a deafening cheer from the crowd, the first time they'd seen the Drifters in months, Pale and Easy cleared the ring. RESULT: LFD by pinfall LM: And so the Drifters make a triumphant return to Portland. BL: I don't know what it is, but they seem changed.  I dunno, like they've lost their edge. LM: We'll see about that soon enough.  They seem to have taken a disliking to LFD, and there are few nastier teams in wrestling today. BL: How do they compare to the tag team of LaRue and Lau? LM: I stand corrected. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Syndicate vs. Barnacle Brothers ------------------------------------------------------------------------     It was the Syndicate in name only against the salty seamen.  Tiger     Claw was every part the focussed warrior, but Casey James was his     mirror image: unkempt, uncombed, his beard scraggly and dark bags     under his eyes.  He toyed continuosly with a black mask.   It appeared that Tiger Claw felt that James could wrestle his way out of this depression, but to no avail.  James missed spots, his punches lacked any strength, Barnacle Bluto began to ridicule him, but did not get a rise.  The final indignity came when James appeared to forget what he was there for, leaning against the ringpost and staring into space.  A little confused, the Barnacles executed the Flying Albatross press slam, and would have scored the win had not Tiger Claw rushed in for the save.  From there, Claw fought alone.  Using his speed to prevent a tag, Tiger Claw showed the form which made him a singles champion, soon wearing out Barnacle Brutus and taking him out with the Golden Tiger Strike.  A concerned Tiger Claw quickly led his despondent partner from the ring. RESULT: Syndicate by pinfall BL: The Barnacles winning the titles, that would have been prime. LM: This is a good time to remind everyone of this Saturday's bout where Casey James will be handcuffed to the ringpost during Requiem's title match against Brody Thunder. BL: I don't know what all the fuss about handcuffs is.  I'll probably be     handcuffed this Saturday too, but you don't hear ME complaining.  You don't hear anyone talking about that. LM: That's because it's old news. BL: Careful, Larry.  I still have the taser, and I still have a lousy     disposition. LM: Speaking of lousy dispositions, what's happening to Casey James?      He's a short push away from becoming an Alphabet Boy.  Does he so hate what he's become that he craves a new identity?  Does he miss the Masked Outlaw so much he is morose? BL: Who isn't? LM: In fact, Casey almost looks as bad as you. [There is a blue flash as Larry is knocked from his chair. A photo replaces the shot showing Ryan Howard's leg being worked over with Timothy Turner's steel pipe.  A byline reads:  "IIWF:  Fun For The Whole Family."] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Dexter St. Croix vs. Ricardo LeBleu ------------------------------------------------------------------------     It was another valient effort for LeBleu, the JJS newcomer, but St.     Croix proved to be too much for him.  Dexter used series of European     uppercuts, forearms and elbow smashes to disorient LeBleu, before     resorting to his arsenal of suplexes.  Ricardo landed an impressive     legflip moonsault, but that didn't save him from suffering the "Natty Dread" tilt-a-whirl powerslam.  Strangely, Genesis mainstays Serge Annis and The Highwayman were both in attendance to watch this bout. RESULT: St. Croix by pinfall. BL: Where do we find these guys?  Ricardo LeBleu?   On government forms     does he write it: Le Blue Dick? LM: That aside, it was interesting to see a more savage streak from Dexter St. Croix.  Guess he isn't as laid back as he would seem. BL: You should have seen him, me and The Posse in the bathroom during     Midsummer Madness.  We were ALL pretty mellow. LM: Who ISN'T mellow is Genesis.  Are they stalking St. Croix?  To     fight him... or invite him? BL: I think they're looking to recruit LeBleu.   Oh, that hurt. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ High Plains Drifters vs. The Equalizers ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Both teams needed some time to knock the rust off their wrestling     skills, but that didn't take long.  The Drifters were always the     aggressors, but Sampson and Paulson of the EQs chose their moments     well, breaking any Drifter momentum and working over the smallish     Pale Rider.  The bout continued toe to toe for a full ten minutes     The Drifters managed to daze Eric Sampson enough to catch him with     "Magnum Force":  Pale rider sweeping the legs while Easy delivered a     jump kick, spilling the Equalizer in the air.  Easy made the cover     then quickly slipped from the ring.  The Equalizers spent a few     moments still in the ring, taking of what went wrong, when, to their     suprise, Liscensed for Devastation exploded from backstage, raining     down with fists and slams.  The Drifters returned to the ring to     defend, but LFD were prepared, smashing the two cowboys over their     heads with bottles of Kessler's Fine Whiskey.  While the Drifters     writhed in the aisle, LFD paraded around in the ring, before leaving     in self-congratulatory celebration. RESULT:  High Plains Drifters by pinfall LM: So it seems that the Equalizers have found themselves in the middle of the Drifters and LFD. BL: I rememeber once being in the middle of the... LM: And how about those Equalizers!? BL: I've had boils that were more entertaining.  Maybe we can trade them     to another fed for two singles wrestlers and a ring announcer to be     named later. LM: I would think that after that Tony Starks prediction you'd be more     careful with your words. BL: I didn't REALLY say I'd go out with you.  Where's the proof? VOICE: [Offstage] We have it on tape, Becky. BL: But I still have my taser. LM: She can't really use that, can she? VOICE: There is nothing in her contract saying she can't. LM: So Becky, how would you feel about starting at my apartment with a     nice bottle of Boone's Farm? [There is a quick, electric snap as Becky checks to see if the batteries are still working.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Scott Rogers vs. Kevin "The Cavalier" Christiansen ------------------------------------------------------------------------     Genesis kept up its tradition of protecting its own when Serge Annis     jumped from the crowd where he had been hiding behind the Genesis     Generation.  Immediately he picked up a steel chair, blasting Kevin     from behind as The Cavalier made his entrance.  Annis continued with a shot to the knee, then disappeared into the crowd with IIWF officials hot on his heels.  So shanghaied, Rogers had the upper hand for the match. Despite his size advantage, Rogers was cocky throughout, taunting Christiensen to attack him, then laughing when he missed. At one point he lay onm his back, pleading with Christiansen to pin him, but raising a knee when Kevin tried.  At another point, Rogers left the ring, asking the audience to tell him who his opponant was, curious if he was new to the IIWF, then soliciting advice on how to pin him.  No such advice was needed as his power moves were too much for the Cavalier. Simon Lebec and Derek Mota then made their way to the ring, Lebec taunting Rogers.  This distracted Rogers enough that with Scott set for a piledriver on Christiansen, the Cavalier was to scissor him down and wrap up a small package for the three count. To an explosive face pop, Christiansen quickly exited while Mota and Lebec entered to beat on the bewildered Rogers.  Mota and Lebec took turns on Rogers, but suddenly Mota used the opportunity to deliver an uppercut to Lebec, and before long the two cruiserweights were going toe-to-toe.  Serge Annis returned breifly to pull Rogers from the ring. RESULT: Kevin Christiansen by pinfall. LM: All sorts of questions come from this one.  Where was Highwayman when Rogers needed him?  What is this team up of Mota and Lebec, and how will this affect Lebec's chances to get the Cruiserweight title from Mota? BL: More importantly, will Scott ever catch a break?  He had "Goody Two     Shoes" all but beat without breaking a sweat.  But once again Lebec     robbed him. LM: Maybe the future will bring us the answers. BL: Where did you get THAT one? LM: "Readers' Digest: Towards more picturesque speaking." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "One Man Army" Dakota Bundy vs. "Real Deal" Luke Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [As Luke Steele steps into the ring, "The Mouth" Matt Malone grabs the mic and walks up to Steele...] MM: Welllll, look what we have here!  Mr. Zebra-trousers.  Oh, sorry,   they're supposed to be tiger-stripes!  Shhheeessssh, didn't you know they went out of fashion a loooonnnnnnggggg time ago?  Same as you Steele, you're out of fashion.  You've missed the boat.  You have your dreams of being something big, but bottom line is this... the only big you're going to get is the big hurt.  Right here, right now, from my man Dakota Bundy.  He'll make sure this is an evening you'll NEVER forget... [Matt Malone lights up a big Havana cigar, puffs the smoke in Steele's face, and walks out of the ring.  Then, as Steele takes off his red shirt, Bundy attacks with a kick to the kneecap...]     From the onset, Bundy had the upper hand.  Partially because of his     never ending submission assault upon Luke Steele, but also because     the "Real Deal" had to keep a wary eye on Genesis members Serge Annis and Scott Rogers as they sat ringside.  However, both seemed more interested in Dakota Bundy, and on one occasion leaned over and     exchanged a few words with his manager, Matt Malone.  In the ring,     Luke was indeed a "Man of Steel" as he continued to take the torment     Bundy continued to hand him.  He fought his way out of an especially     tight abdominal stretch, linking up an armdrag forearm combo that     brought Genesis to their feet.  Despite appearances, the two did not     interfere, and Bundy was able to gain the upperhand.  Dakota came up     limp after one series of falls, and Luke Steele immediatly tried to     finish him with the Real Steele Press.  But to the crowd's amazement, Bundy ignored his supposed injury, catching the press into a powerslam and the cover.  Stelle got his elbow up at the two count.  Bundy continued to dominate, but his constant submissions worked against him as he has Steele in a Bow and Arrow only to have the bell ring for the time limit.  Malone was quick to chastize his man as Steele made a quick escape under the watchful eyes of Genesis. RESULT: Time limit draw LM: More scouting by Genesis. BL: And now they're after Al Bundy.  I wondered what he would do after the show got taken off the air. LM: That's Dakota Bundy.  He's a wrestler. BL: Y'know, I was on "Married: With Children" once.  You may rememeber me. I played a girl in a short skirt who Al tried to sell shoes too and he kept looking up my dress.  I'm sure you saw it. LM: I'll have to check my video archives. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Ike Sampson vs. Mad Dog Watkins ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Ike Sampson stands at his locker before the nights main event.] IKE: Mad Dog, I've had this match comin' a long time.  You turned your back on me, and you turned your back on my fans.  And you cost me      _my_ shot at the gold.       But this one ain't about the gold, Dog.  This one's about payback.      You owe me... you owe me big.       I beat you once before... and lightning's gonna strike twice tonight.      And that's the truth... [Sampson turns and leaves the locker room, headed for the ring.]     It was a coming of age of sorts for Ike Sampson, paired off against a man who could be considered his mentor.  Mad Dog kept up that     constant reminder that Ike is still just a boy and he should make way for real men to wrestle.  Sampson was able to keep his rage under control, and it added power to his attack.  Both men went at each other seriously, the crowd sensing the human drama unveiling and they grew silent as they watched the power play unfold.  Watkins hit a spinebuster then tried for the "Every Dog Has Its Day" only to have Sampson break out and return with a rana.  A vicious forearm by Watkins off a ride to the ropes sent sweat spraying off Sampson into the audience. This brought Tony Starks out from the back, but both combatants, so focused, didn't notice him.  The end came as Watkins tossed Sampson to the ropes, but Sampson caught him with a backdrop on the return.  Watkins flipped into the turnbuckle and Sampson was on him with the "Deep Freeze" double underhook piledriver.  The ref made the three count and Ike rose triumphant. Like a flash, Tony Starks entered the ring, gleefully winching the Katha Jime armbar on the downed Watkins. The officials tried to pull Starks off, but he only held on tighter. Eventually it became too much for even Ike Sampson, and to the roar separated Starks from Watkins.  Starks immediatly blasted Sampson, Ike retaliating, and the two locked up collar and elbow only to be broken up by the officials.  A hush went over the crowd as it was noticed by all that Mad Dog Watkins had not moved where he lay in center ring.  The med-techs quickly stretchered him from the ring as Starks laughed. RESULT: Ike Sampson by pinfall. LM: We have received no word on the condition of Mad Dog Watkins.  It     is believed that he may be out for some time.  I think this is a     sad, sad story to report. BL: But what's up with Tony Starks?  I haven't seen him this vicious     before.  The man has grown a set of fangs. LM: I don't think that is the kind of thing to laud, Becky.  I think it     best we end the show.  Where are we next week? BL: Guess.  LM: We'll be somewhere next week.  I sure hope it is North Carolina.     Before we go, we'll run this tape from Body Thunder.  Goodnight     everyone. [Brody Thunder sits on a bench in the lockerroom. He's dressed in street clothes and is packing a black and red gymbag with his wrestling gear as he begins speaking...] BT: So the pup's upset, is he? Thinks I'm playin' some sorta... "mindgame" with him? Thinks I don't know the deal he struck with James ta do his dirty work fer 'im? [Thunder stuffs his trunks into the bag.]      Heh... yer reachin', "big man." Y'know what that tells me?     Tell's me yer scared, "champ". Scared o' what's waitin' fer ya Saturday night. Good. 'Cuz ya _should_ be scared. I ain't comin' ta that ring ta waltz with ya.     I'm comin' ta beat ya. An' that _should_ scare ya.     Lissen ta yerself, hoss. "Two or Nothing". Already tryin' ta find an escape from facin' me. Thought ya were more o' a man, son. Now ya wanna use yer own set of cuffs fer James? Fine by me. But the keys go ta Poutine Janois. I know _he_ don't like James. Fair enough, big man? See, despite yer lil swerve attempt... the fact remains, I don't believe James' lil "mental problem" is real. Now mebbe ya set the whole thing up... mebbe not. Either way, I ain't takin' any chances. Ya ducked me fer too long an' now I'm gonna take my one opportunity ta relieve ya o' that strap an' put it where it rightfully belonged all along. An' that's 'round _my_ waist. An' ain't nuthin' or _no one_ gonna get in my way. Not yer lackeys or yer lies. [Thunder carefully places a variety of varous elbow and kneepads into the gymbag.]     As fer me _wantin'_ that strap? Yer right. I _do_ want it. _Bad_.     The difference 'tween us is, Saturday night I'm leavin' with that belt an' yer leavin' with a buncha painful memories. I heard ya out here beatin' yer chest. Yeah, yer 6' 10"... 306 pounds. Call yerself the Angel o' Destruction. How'd ya put it? Oh yeah... "destruction incarnated in human form". Tell me sumthin' ace... [Thunder looks up at the camera for the first time with a very sarcastic smirk.]     ...do you actually _believe_ that bull[bleep]?     Hell, ya beat up one snot-nosed lil runt an' ya think yer tough? I'm surprised ya didn't call Rogers down there ta help ya out. Did ya take his lunch money too? Jeezus... Requiem... ya _better_ be prepared fer a man. A man that's gonna drag yer hide through Hell an' back fer that gold strap. "Angel o' Destruction"? Well, believe what ya want while ya can, big man. Cuz the only kinda "angel" yer gonna be when I'm through with ya... [Thunder slides a watch onto his wrist.]     ...is a fallen angel.     An' finally... lemme tell ya 'bout who's gonna be hurt, my friend. If I was scared o' gettin' hurt I'd have quit this business a looooong time ago. I've had my nose broken seven times. A broken arm. Eleven concussions. Two shoulder separations and three knee operations. Heheheh... [Thunder lowers his head and shakes it in a contemptuous laugh. Smiling, he returns his gaze to the camera.]     ...I ain't worried 'bout gettin' hurt.     An' believe you me... if _anyone_ gets put on a gurney... it'll be _yer_ ass, "champ", an' that's a fact. So bring yer seven-foot 306 pound carcass down ta that ring Saturday night, ace, an' I'll be more'n happy ta show ya what a _real_ champion looks like... [Thunder forcefully zips up the gymbag then looks into the camera.]     ...up close an' personal. Saturday night. October 4th. Mark it     on yer calendar, big man. That's the night I walk inta history.. [Thunder slings the bag over his shoulder and grins that devilish smile.]     ...an' you _are_ history. [Thunder puts his hand over the lense. Fade to black.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+