C + O + U + N + T + D + O + W + N T + O ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/..............\........|...|.......|....| ********************WITH BRIAN LAU AND LARRY MORTON******************* ***************************OCTOBER 3, 1997**************************** [Shot opens with Larry Morton and Brian Lau sitting at the Countdown desk... Yes, the one with the miniature ring ropes on the edges to make it look like a little ring. Larry occupies his time by using to fingers of his left hand to imitate a wrestler in the little ring. Apparently, the imitated wrestler is one of the aerial persuasion, since Larry maneuvers it around the ring, doing springboard dropkicks and planchas from the top rope. Brian watches, unimpressed. Seemingly at a cue from the producer, Larry stops playing around and addresses the camera.] LM: Hello, fans of the IIWF! Welcome to another edition of Countdown to Saturday Night! This week, we've got plenty of news of what happened this past Wednesday, and that unique look at Saturday Night that we come to you with each and every Friday night. BL: Not to mention that witty banter you're so well known for. LM: Well, thank you Brian. It's good to be back home, isn't it? BL: You know something? I hate to admit it, but I'm glad to be back in Portland. LM: Really? BL: Yes. After you've spent the better part of a week in the hole they call Canada, Portland looks like an oasis of intelligence and excitement. LM: Well, you can chalk that up to the IIWF, let me tell you. BL: Except for the intelligence part. You can chalk that up to me. LM: Oookay... Well, I have to say it's nice to be in a studio that doesn't have workers walking in and out constantly, banging hammers and such. BL: Yeah... That was a great move, Larry... I hear the producer of the War Room was none too impressed. What are you trying to do, lose _both_ of your assignments? LM: It was an honest mistake, I assure you. BL: Oh, sure, Morton... After that little fiasco with Jackson Witt, your reputation as a clueless idiot just doesn't wash. LM: I had nothing to do with that... I... BL: You got him canned. LM: I did not! BL: You're racist. LM: I am not! I didn't do anything! I... BL: Whatever... Just move on, Morton. LM: I am _not_ racist. Anyway, folks, we saw a lot of action this past Wednesday night, so lets take a look at the results of the War Room... ======================================================================== ----------------------------WAR-ROOM-RECAP------------------------------ ======================================================================== Results from Wednesday War Room - October 1, 1997 1. Blind Guardian def. "Nifty" Ned Norton [J] (via Pinfall) 2. Licensed for Devastation def. The Rotundos [J] (via Pinfall) 3. The Syndicate def. The Barnacle Brothers [J] (via Pinfall) 4. Dexter St. Croix def. Ricardo LeBleu [J] (via Pinfall) 5. High Plains Drifters def. The Equalizers (via Pinfall) 6. Kevin "the Cavalier" Christiansen def. Scott Rogers (via Pinfall) 7. "One Man Army" Dakota Bundy vs. "Real Deal" Luke Steele (TL Draw) 8. Ike Sampson def. Mad Dog Watkins (via Pinfall) ======================================================================== LM: What a night of action. Blind Guardian made another ominous appearance, LFD were victorious over the Rotundos, and afterwards were kept from inflicting further punishment by the High Pains Drifters. BL: I know it's been said before, but I'm going to say it again: what the hell is with the HPD? I've worked with Pale and Easy Rider, before, and I've never seen them this... helpful. I'm going to have to get good ol' Josey on the phone and straighten this one out. LM: Why mess with a good thing? BL: A _good_ thing? A _good_ thing is injuring people for no reason. LM: We'll get to that in a minute... The Syndicate looked a little less than great in their match against the Barnacle Brothers. BL: Did you know Bluto tried out for the Syndicate? What a guy... By the way, Larry, that finisher of theirs... It's called an Alba-toss. LM: But the bird is an albatross. BL: The move, though, is the Alba-toss. It's a press slam... A throw... A toss, if you will. LM: I don't get it. BL: That's an understatement... LM: Getting back on topic, Casey James looked awful. BL: Let's not talk about that... LM: But. BL: No. LM: Alright, fine. Dexter St. Croix looked impressive against Ricardo LeBleu, and apparently, Genesis thought so as well. They were out scouting this match. BL: I happen to know that Scott Rogers dropped his mascara in the aisle earlier in the night, and that's actually the reason Genesis were out there... Not to scout the match. LM: Believe what you will, but they were indeed out there. Later on in the night, the HPD scored a win over the Equalizers, but both teams were then laid out by LFD. BL: So now that's three teams involved in this little feud... Wonderful. Keep it up guys... LM: Well said. Kevin Christiansen defeated Scott Rogers... BL: Barely. LM: You know what they say... Anyone can beat... BL: Keep your tired cliches to yourself, Morton. LM: Fine then, I will. In the next match, Dakota Bundy and Luke Steele wrestled to a time limit draw. BL: That Dakota Bundy interests me... We all call Derek Mota the "tough little bastard." Well, I'd have to say that Bundy is the "tough little ugly bastard." He's one of those crippler types... I have a feeling you could dump a load of bricks on the guy, and he'd get up, dust himself off, and flash some gum. LM: He was impressive, that's for sure. He might be a tough competitor in the weeks to come. On to the main event, Ike Sampson scored a win over his former mentor, Mad Dog Watkins. What a contest. BL: More importantly, though, is what happened afterwards. Starks came down to the ring, and locked the Kataha Jime on Watkins... No reason... Just because. LM: I'm sure Starks' feelings toward Ike Sampson had something to do with it. BL: Well, whatever the reason, Watkins had to be taken to hospital with a tube down his throat to allow him to breathe. LM: Watkins did in fact suffer trauma to the larynx thanks to that hold... What is it again? BL: It's a Jiu-Jitsu choke hold... The Kataha Jime. Great hold. LM: I think Starks went a bit far, though. BL: What are you talking about? He slapped on his finisher. What's wrong with that? LM: But trauma to the larynx? BL: That's what it's supposed to do! It's a choke! LM: Aren't chokes illegal? BL: Not that one. It's allowed. Besides, it's wasn't used in the match anyway. LM: Folks, we'll have more information on the condition of Watkins in the following weeks. BL: Watkins oughtta pack it in. He's getting old, you know. LM: I don't think you could say that his career is over just yet, though. He was recently Intercontinental champion. BL: Yeah... So was Lord Byron, though, and look at him. LM: Well, I'm being told by our producer that we should be moving on, so let's do just that and take an in depth look at the card lined up for tomorrow night... ======================================================================== ------------------------SATURDAY-NIGHT-PREVIEW-------------------------- ======================================================================== -------------------------------------- 1. Natural Predators vs. The Down Boys -------------------------------------- LM: Two of the newer teams in the IIWF make their Saturday Night competitive debuts tomorrow when the Natural Predators meet the Down Boys. BL: You know, when I heard the name "Down Boys," I really expected yet another one of those "Ah'm gunna gitcha, sucka!" big, bad, black man teams... These guys are so white that compared to them, even you have soul, Larry. LM: Thank you... I think. Well, don't be fooled by their mannerisms outside of the ring. They are more than competent tag team specialists. BL: It's funny you should say that... Remember that team with the nobody and the egomaniac in that federation up north...? LM: Ummm, let's not get into that, Brian. There's a bit of bad blood between these two teams, after the Down Boys attacked the Natural Predators a few weeks ago on the War Room. This could be a great match. BL: Oh yeah... That's why they put it first, right? LM: Well, sure... What better way to start off the night than with exciting tag team action? Why don't we get comments from the Natural Predators? [Kuyler Greyson and the Natural Predators hard at work. Unlike traditional training regiments, Bear and Wolf work opposite each other, to offset the other's advantage. Wolf using his quickness to sidestep the powerful swings of Bear, and Bear trying to grab or "Tag" him in order to counter his speed. Kuyler addresses the camera] KG: Welcome to the Predators Training session. Well, part of it. Both wrestlers are adept at what they do. But they have to be ready, you see, for anyone or anything that is going to come at them. [the two stop, walk over to Kuyler] KG: Good work for now boys. Tomorrow night, you face the Down Boys in a match to see who gets what, bragging rights as newcomers? B : It's a beginning. The spirits choose well for us the way things are to be. These "Down Boys" are two who think that by showboating, they are better men than us. We may not be as flashy as you, but we get the job done. W : We GET the JOB DONE. That simple. You know, aside from the hair, the gimmick, the showing off, these guys want something better than the madcap brawling this league is. I hope so. Damn little to look up to these days. KG: I will more than agree with that. The champion of this league asserts himself as a thug. To assault innocents as he claims proudly in his last interview, well, I sure as hell know _I_ don't respect the man. B : With Psychosis Joe Petrow leaving this federation, over the actions of an army of thugs like Genesis? That's some bad medicine. KG: But new life, new hope, comes in the form of a lot of things. Anyone who asserts themselves to stand for something higher than common group violence. W : With the power of the Wolf... B : And the strength of the Bear... KG: The old thug mentality will fall extinct to NATURAL SELECTION. B : Plain and simple. W : Neyho neye-he hiyo, we shall overcome. KG: So keep your eyes open tomorrow night. The future is here today. [Fade] BL: And a hey-diddle-diddle to you too. LM: It's not respectful to make light of one's heritage, Brian. BL: Yeah, like I'm going to take etiquette lessons from _you._ LM: Well, people like _me._ BL: No they don't. In fact, just today I heard a group of people in that corner over there going on about how they _don't_ like you, Larry. LM: Really? Who? BL: I can't say. LM: You're making this up. BL: No, I'm not. LM: Whatever... Folks, let's hear comments from... BL: You know, Larry, listening to you is like taking a cassette tape with some album on it, unreeling it, cutting it to pieces, splicing it back together in no particular order, and then running it trough a tape deck... LM: Huh? BL: You've got no flow, man... "Brian! You're mean! And now, here's the Down Boys!" LM: But I've been working on... BL: Just stop, Larry... Go on, roll the clip... LM: Okay... Ummm... The Down Boys... [Camera opens on one of the greenest areas in Oregon. Trees, shrubs, and bushes can be seen everywhere. Small woodland creatures scurry in numerous directions seeing the light of the handheld camera, which zooms in on one shrub. This shrub is unusual for the fact that above it's green leaves can be seen two extensions of the shrub...one blond, and one brown. And they're moving. The "shrubs" continue to move until they run into a baggy jean-clad leg, belonging to one Awesome T.] AT: What the hell are you doing? [The "shrubs" rise to their feet to reveal their true identities...the Down Boys, "Superstud" Adam Peterson and "Dazzling" Dan Oliver. The DB's are clad in their "hunting gear."] DO: [doing his best Elmer Fudd impression] Be vewy vewy qwiet...weah huntin' Natuwal Pwedatas. HAHAHAHAHAHA! AT: I honestly was unaware that camouflage came in an acid-washed style. AP: That's the thing, man...you just can't get this anywhere...can you believe that? [T's jaw drops with blatant sarcasm] DO: We had to special order it, man. Totally bitchin' outfits, ain't they? AT: I need not answer that...so, [tapping his fingers together] any luck so far? [Snickers] AP: Nah, man...I don't know what we're doin' wrong. AT: I'll tell you what your problem is, and it's right there in front of you. You're huntin' after a Bear and Wolf, right? Well, your problem is that you're using elephant guns, and everybody knows you can only kill elephants with an elephant gun. [Dan Oliver begins to cry.] DO: [whimpering] But I don't wanna kill Tim Dross...he's been real nice to me... AT: Oh, and how's that? DO: [sniffling] One time, when we were all on the road, I was real hungry, so I went up to Mr. Dross, who was eating this... [Dan suddenly breaks into a Dusty Rhodes impression] DO: ...big ol' sammich, an' I sayz to the man, I sayz, "Timmy Dross, I ain't eatin' in ah least 20 minutes...can ya help a bruda out?", and he sayz he give me half his sammich. AT: Tim Dross gave you half his samm...I mean sandwich? DO: [still Dusty] I say he SAYZ he gonna give me half o' his sammich...he neva did, daddy, so I done give him a bionic elbow on top o' his shiny, bald head, and put da Weava lock on 'em... [Just them Adam Peterson slaps Dan in the back of the head, waking Dan from his "Dusty trance"] DO: ...wha...what happened? AT: You were channeling Dusty again. DO: Really? AT: Yep, there's gotta be medication for that. Natural Predators...you honestly have no idea what you're getting into, do you. You think you can outwrestle these men? You think you can outmaneuver these men? You think you can outthink...er...you get my point. Saturday night, the Down Boys will be knocking your ass back to 1987 just so you can be on the same page as us. AP: Unskinny Bop...nothing more to say. AT: Come on guys...I'll by you dinner. Whispering to Adam] Smack him back in his head again...we need a story for the ride over. [Adam smacks Dan in the back of his head again] DO: WHOOO LAWDY! I ever tell you da time me an' Dick Murdock wuz clubberin' Greg Valentine back in Augusta? We was done stompin' a mudhole in 'em when his ol' daddy, Johnny Valentine done came out with a chair... [Fade] LM: Who's Dusty Rhodes? BL: You are. LM: I am not... I'm Larry Morton. BL: [snickers] Of course you are. LM: Well I am... It says right here on my driver's license that I'm... Oh, wait... Where did I put that thing? BL: Just what I thought... You're not Larry... You're his evil twin Otto. LM: No, I'm... BL: Security? Security! -------------------------------------------- 2. Subway Psycho vs. "Real Deal" Luke Steele -------------------------------------------- LM: No, really... I _am._ Oh, sorry... Former World champ, the Subway Psycho, takes on a man who's been on a real tear as of late, Luke Steele. BL: A real tear? At the bars, maybe... That's why he's Luke "Drunk as the Man Of" Steele. LM: Steele's record is nothing to scoff at. BL: Sure it is. LM: [sighs] Well, I know for a fact that Steele is looking forward to this match... We got comments from him recently... Let's roll that footage. [Scene: It's nighttime. An old delivery truck is parked out front on a city street corner. Nearby, a subway entrance can be seen. In the darkness, we can hear a voice begin to speak.] Voice: From out of the subway comes the IIWF's greatest nightmare. It is I, the Subway Psycho! [A figure rushes up the steps of the entrance, and steps into the dim light created by a streetlight overhead. Despite the grey tights, long hair and black facepaint, we can see that it's not the Subway Psycho. Instead, it's Luke Steele, dressed up as the former World Champion.] LS: So this is what it's like to be a former IIWF World Champion? No thanks, I'd rather wear a mask. It seems to be the staple of former champions nowadays as it is. But my attention right now is on a different matter, this Saturday Night. The Subway Psycho. One of the greatest fighters in the IIWF's history. A former champion, beloved by the fans, and pissed off at Danny Boy's abbreviated comeback. You know, I respect a guy like that. In fact, if the Subway Psycho himself hadn't come back and screwed my plans up, I'd probably have respect for him that he's earned. But once again, a member of the Old Generation of IIWF superstars takes it upon himself to step in and take over. Well I'm getting sick of it, baby dolls. About the time sewer-boy came back, I was in the midst of getting a small measure of revenge on Genesis and Team IIWF, if you will. Then this facepainted freak shows up, and suddenly I'm old news again. Well Psycho man, I tell you this: You're going to regret it, and you're going to learn the hard way that Luke Steele is not the man he was when he came here. I'm no green rookie anymore, and I don't give a damn about the great legacy you've made here. All I care about is paying you back for taking my spotlight. Dammit, I'm the one who should be mad at old and new guys alike, not you. Take your place in line Psycho, 'cause the Real Deal is right up front. [Luke looks at the camera and wipes away some of the Psycho's facepaint, then gives the thumbs down to his opponent before the scene fades to black.] BL: Well, I've got to give him credit... He sure knows who to make fun of. LM: I see no reason to make fun of one of the biggest stars in the IIWF. BL: Former star. The Psycho is a shadow of what he used to be. He used to be a guy I kept my eye on. Now I couldn't care less. LM: Well, I guess we'll see how seriously he's taken tomorrow night! -------------------------------- 3. Marty Warnett vs. Serge Annis -------------------------------- LM: The Party Maniac vs. The Epitome of Evil. There's more nicknames than you can shake a stick at. BL: You draw the line at one, do you? LM: Okay, well, not _that_ many nicknames, then. BL: No, I guess not. So I guess we'll see if Genesis still has the bite they claimed to have once upon a time, huh? LM: If you believe they are really falling apart. BL: I don't. LM: And why's that? BL: Because I'm well read, that's why. LM: I have no idea what you mean. BL: And that doesn't surprise me in the least. LM: Well, let's go to comments from one of the participants in this match, shall we? Ladies and gentlemen, here's Marty Warnett... [SCENE: In ring, after the big Saturday night card. The Canadian fans are busy chanting "USA sucks! USA sucks!". Tim Dross slowly climbs into the ring, avoiding various rolled up pieces of paper, programs, screwed up Pokey Cola cartons and even false wigs.] TD: Ahem. Ladies and Gentlemen, at this time it is my pleasure to bring out here the Party Maniac, Marty Warnett. [As "Cold Gin" kicks in, Marty appears, to a chorus of booing. Marty stands there for a while, shaking his head whilst holding a cold compress on the back of his skull. He wears leather trousers, trainers and an official IIWF Ring Wars IV T-Shirt, complete with a logo of a Cadillac. He slowly walks down to ringside, stopping to greet a small pocket of fans, eventually climbing to the ring apron. Marty starts to climb the turnbuckle, but decides against it. He steps between the ropes and meets Dross centre-ring.] TD: Marty, this atmosphere is incredible, I can't believe it. [The noise gets louder and louder every time Marty attempts to reply. He pauses, until.] MW: HEY, SHUT IT! [The crowd, most stunned by this unexpected outburst go quiet.] MW: Well, Dross, yet again I'm staggered by the class of the Canuck contingent. Whilst their athletes are talented, they want to moan, what at me? Like, am I American? No. Damn, even the Canuck sound people keep playing the old theme music, it's Diamond Dave's "Just Like Paradise" ... TD: Marty, we are of course in Quigley land. [The crowd pop at the name of the Intercontinental Champion.] MW: That's true, but what I want, what I really, really want, is for all my fans here to start chanting the name of the only active singles wrestler in the IIWF who pinned Chris Quigley, one, two, three, to the mat here in the IIWF. Can you? [Marty seems to almost laugh as he receives a massive heel pop.] MW: Well, good luck to the guy -- he'll need it. Creed, Macbeth, plus the vast majority of the locker room after him, he'll be as hunted as Genesis gimmick. I mean, losing at the Pay Per View then getting an immediate title shot and belt made him no friends, y'know. And in his situation, he's going to need friends. TD: He seems to have changed from the PPV. MW: Sure. Due to me, Timmy. I told him get a personality, and now he's shown us his extended family is basically the Waltons on Acid. Still, I guess he'll always be useful to that North-East federation after Creed makes a Mooselips pancake outta him. TD: Hmmm ... we're not allowed to say that anymore, I'm sure the censor will catch it, though. Any thoughts on your opponent this Saturday? [The crowd now seem quieter, allowing Marty to speak normally.] MW: Serge Annis. TD: That's the one. MW: Tough man, a big guy, no doubt wanting to show he should lead Genesis. And I guess he'll want to avoid the stereotypical big guy stuff, he'd probably want to leave that to Scott "Casey wanna-be" Rogers. TD: I'm not sure Lau would agree with you there ... MW: Heck, I must be right then! [ laughs ] TD: Of course, it was a night of returnees, wasn't it? [Marty glares at Dross.] MW: Gosh, I didn't notice? Look Dross, I wasn't born yesterday, you know. That whole battle royal was rigged. TD: That's prepost... [Dross is interrupted as Marty grabs the microphone.] MW: Yeah? Then riddle me this, Punster, why did that EMT crew know exactly when to come down the aisle? What about those license plates? Stetson, I know you bailed out of this federation. You know I trashed not one, not two, but three of your cars. Lo and behold, three license plates. You want me? I'm here, right now. Come out and play, Superstar, and don't hide behind the long legs of that trash that hangs around with you. [Marty throws the microphone down, leaning over the ropes hurling abuse down the aisle. Dross scrabbles around to pick up the microphone.] TD: Folks, we could have an extra special main event here tonight! [The fans who have remained to watch the dark match and interviews pop excitedly as Marty paces around the ring. As the seconds turn into minutes, the fans get impatient and start stamping their feet and booing. Marty starts to get pelted with trash by upset fans. Marty again takes the mic.] MW: Dross, I ain't got the time, the patience or the appetite to develop blisters on my ass hanging around for the so-called Stud. Stetson, you'd better develop some guts, some "intestinal fortitude" because this time, it'll be finished one way or the other. [Marty throws down the mic for a second time and walks off down the aisle. The crowd still pelt Dross in the ringside as Marty breaks into a jog to the backstage area. Fade] LM: "Casey-wannabe" Rogers? BL: Hehe... Now _that_ is funny. LM: But like Tim Dross said, you don't agree, right? BL: Why wouldn't I? Of course I agree! LM: But... BL: Hey... Everyone's a Casey wannabe... It's just a matter of how successful you are at it... Of course, I wouldn't want to be Casey James right now... I don't think anyone would want to be in his shoes. LM: I thought you didn't want to talk about that. BL: I don't, Larry, so stop bringing it up. LM: But... Oh well. Let's hear from the three remaining members of Genesis, including, of course, Serge Annis: [The three surviving members of Genesis stand in front of their vandalised backdrop.  The inane grin of Scott Rogers, contrasting darkly with the malevolent glare of Serge Annis, who oddly wears a party hat saying "Party On" on it. Highwayman, standing an impressive 6'4" tall, but nonetheless dwarfed by Rogers' and Annis' 6'9" and 6'8" frames, elects to speak first:] HWM: We saw your faces last week.  We heard your comments, all of you sounding like pale echoes of Steve Roberts.  All of you assuming that Genesis is dead because Cold Spell lost the belts and left, Requiem left to stand on his own two feet and Scott and I had a "disagreement" last Saturday.  Well, we are here to tell you you're wrong.. Badly wrong. You see, the three of us have something to prove to you all now.  The three of us are "tighter" than we've ever been, we are more cohesive, more co-ordinated but most of all.. We are driven!  Driven to achieve glory, driven to PROVE YOU WRONG! For far too long, Roberts has convinced you all we are nothing more than Requiem's lackeys.  Little lap dogs, yapping at his heels like obedient pets, protecting their master against all the IIWF had to throw at him. I will take great pleasure in telling you all right here and now, you're wrong again.. All your taunting and derision will only succeed in fuelling a fire that even the combined forces of Watkins, Kowalski and Thunder won't be able to stem. And while we're on the subject of fire... SA: Heh heh... [Serge blows a party noise maker.]  This Saturday Night Party Maniac... heh heh, your lights will be put out via the Epitome of Evil. You like to play, you like to party do you, Marty Warnett? [Serge blows the party noise maker once more.] Well, so do I. And after I am done snapping your little neck into two sepperate pieces, I think you'll see just who can throw the better... "party." But I guarantee you this, young Marty... [Annis points at himself as he removes his party hat.] _This_ is one party you don't want to be invited to. Because just like a party out of control... you are going to end up getting burned. [Annis lights the party hat with his Zippo lighter. The cheap party favor quickly goes up in flames, and burns the "child safe" party hat in mere seconds.] For the non-believers out there that don't think Genesis can ammount to anything now... as my good man Highwayman stated... we three, are tighter than ever before. You thought Genesis was bad with Requiem? Wait 'til you see what evils we are truly capable of, without the World Championship holding us down! HWM: Prepare yourself for the second offensive, IIWF.  We may have lost a couple of battles recently, but the war is FAR from over! [Fade.] --------------------------------------------------- 4. IIWF CRUISERWEIGHT TOURNAMENT FIRST ROUND MATCH: The Phoenix vs. Dirt Dog Unique Allah --------------------------------------------------- LM: This should be an electric match... The aerial styles of the Phoenix and the unpredictable Dirt Dog square off tomorrow night. BL: In a pointless tournament. LM: There's a point... We're trying to decide who the top Cruiserweight contender is. BL: Like anyone could touch Mota... Give me a break. LM: Well, that's a matter of opinion, really. Let's go on to comments from the Phoenix... [SCENE: The Phoenix leans against a car outside Portland Memorial Hospital. He is wearing a leather coat and stares at the sky, seemingly oblivious to the steady rain which is falling. Finally, he shakes back his long wet hair and speaks without looking at the camera.] TP: Here, on the eve of one my biggest matches in the IIWF, I can't appreciate the opportunity which stands before me. Saturday, I watched the... [his voice adopts a mocking tone] the big, bad masked Casey James... injure Maurice McArthur. And it never should have happened. [The Phoenix turns to face the camera.] Last week I asked... I _demanded_ that the IIWF give _me_ a shot at the masked man, but the officials refused to replace Maurice in the Saturday match. Would the outcome have been different? I don't know. But I _do_ know that one man would not be in a hospital room right now. The blood of one is on the hands of many. Now I'm demanding it again. Casey James, bring your mask if it makes you feel better. Bring your mask if it makes you feel like a man. Because we _will_ meet... and no one will be able to save you then. Prepare to feel the vengeance which you have brought upon yourself, "Masked Outlaw." But first, Dirt Dog Unique Allah and his cronies. Perhaps those in Genesis were correct about one thing... perhaps my path to respect in the IIWF is paved in gold. If it takes winning the IIWF Cruiserweight Championship to earn that respect... [He stares hard into the camera.] ...so be it! [The rain begins to fall even harder as The Phoenix takes one last look at the hospital before turning and walking away. Fade.] BL: Fitting that he's hanging around with McArthur, huh? LM: What do you mean? BL: They draw about as much heat! LM: That's not very nice. BL: Hey, I'm being generous here, so shut it. LM: It seems as thought the Phoenix wants a piece of your man, Casey James. BL: Hey, he's not _my_ man. I wash my hands of him... After that stunt he pulled, forget it. LM: I'm sure we'll get to that later. For now, though, let's get comments from the former CW champ, Dirt Dog Unique Allah... [Scene is Dirt Dog Unique Allah's apartment. The Dog is sitting on a bean bag chair, shirtless, the big scar up his belly plainly visible. He has a big frown on his face, chewing his lip in annoyance. Shakeemah's voice can be heard humming off in the distance and something with a lot of fat is frying in the kitchen. Thick, greasy smoke licks around the scene. There is still no furniture to speak of and no hint of the Dirt Dog's former wealth and position.] DDUA: Yo, it all got to end sometime. No one can enjoy the spotlight forever, right? We gotta give it up to the new bloods. Yeah, y'all saw an era end in the IIWF when that crazy muhfuh Joe Petrow walked away from the fed. I mean, who's gonna make this ish fun now? Whut? Y'all think it's gonna be me? I'm tired of getting portrayed as some stupid drunk. I mean, I loved y'all and they all loved me, but I can't do it no more. I was always cryin' on the inside. [DDUA launches into a heart-wrenching version of "Somewhere over the Rainbow." Remarkably he can sing.] DDUA: I thought it might be fun to do things a little different than other people, stir up the pot, make things fun. Nobody could get it, though. Nobody could get the hype. And I don't like that. But that's neither here nor there. [Shakeemah comes wandering into the room and drops down in his lap. They're eating string beans from a pot. Unique hugs his wife.] DDUA: Phoenix, we gotta dance Saturday Night. And it's a big dance. A dance to get me my title back. But Phoenix, you ain't even fit to lace up my boots and you know it. You can't step in with the Dirt Dog because I'm too damn creative for you. I'm just too much and now that I'm happy again. [He bursts out into a Dirty Doggie yell] DDUA: Now that I'm happy again you're gonna be sorry, muhfuh. [Fade out.] LM: I never know what to expect from that man. BL: Expect him to start beating his wife... LM: Brian! BL: What? Everyone knows that the only reason wrestlers get married or make friends is to either turn on them or have them turn on him. It's a fact of life. LM: Oh, I see... We just follow some big script, is that it? It's all a storyline that we're just part of, is that it? BL: Sure. LM: I would hate to be you, Brian. BL: The feeling is mutual... I'd hate it if you were me too. ------------------------------- 5. Damage Inc. vs. The Machines ------------------------------- LM: The heralded Damage Inc. take on the Machines tomorrow night... You have to wonder if any of the teams involved in that triple threat match last week will have something to say to the Machines... BL: You'd better believe they do... I happen to know that Edmund Fitzgerald was seen talking to Harlequin Comedy backstage recently, so maybe they've got something planned. LM: Oh, I doubt that's true... Just look at the history between Cold Spell and the Harlequins. BL: Yeah... And Tiger Claw used to hate Hakiro Matsuoko. LM: Okay, you've got a point, but I still have a hard time believing it. BL: You have a hard time with math, Larry, but that doesn't mean that 2 and 2 don't equal 4. LM: They do? BL: Now _that_ was on purpose... Nobody is that stupid. LM: What? What? Oh, never mind. Folks, we got comments from Damage Inc. recently, so let's take a look. [scene is some deep dark gym somewhere in America. The members of Damage Incorporated are sitting around a table apparently playing poker. Jeandra, a tall african-american woman, is wearing the new Vancouver Canucks jersey with "JEANDRA 69" on the back. Her long curly hair is covering her face to disguise her emotions. Eddy Ramos, a MASSIVE Puerto Rican, is sporting a torn TAZ t-shirt and jeans. His face is solid and unmoving. Alex Porteaux, with his bald chocolate head and shifty eyes, seems to be enjoying himself, tucking his cards along his "Age of Rage" t-shirt and baseball cap.] AP: Hey now, for once we ain't got to talk about the Prophets, or do we? JE: We have time to talk about Duck and Cover another time. Let's talk about what's at hands...The Machines. AP: Well oiled machine. Ain't nuthing like it....gimme three [motions to Ramos who slides 3 cards his way]...but ya gears ain't like none we've ever seen. The only reason why you stay together, despite all dat bickerin...is trust? JE: And what do you trust in? Each other? Your skills? The fans? AP: Trust is a big word mon ami.....trust in the wrong thing....you can get hurt. JE: Many guys put their trust, their faith in me...and they came down hard....gimme two, Eddy [Ramos pushes two cards in her direction] AP: And you two putting trust in the fact that you can defeat one of the best tag team machines of all time. That's trust aiiight....blind trust....how you gonna feel afterwards all broken hearted when this big man powerbombs you from heights unheard of? What you gonna look to when this lady is starin you in da face, smilin her ass off as you squeal in pain....and let me ask you somethin else, Machines.... JE: Go ahead and say it..... AP: ......WHAT YOU GON' TELL YO' DADDY????......when he see you on the TV screen catchin a WHUPPIN.....Damage Inc. style. There's only TWO of you...not no five, six, seven, twelve type stuff. No, now it's just two-on-two the way we like it. Now we about to show these IIWF people why we're here. We about to inform you of how we got our name. ER: We're about to get it on..... AP: Is the interview over already? ER: No....just didn't feel like holding it in..... JE: Machines, the cards are in our favor [she raises the two cards she received to show the faces of the Machines]...... AP: So don't be like some of dese JOKERS [holds up his three cards to reveal pictures of Tony Starks, Unique Allah and Dalbello Rage]..... ER: Or else we show you something a bit higher......[holds up HIS cards, showing Pizzazz, Madusa, Derek and Shadoe Rage]......than a Royal Flush.....let's get it on..... AP: Aiight that does it.....SHE deals from now on...my hand sucks..... [Fade] LM: That was interesting. BL: Finally... Someone who understands the reasoning behind what we do... Except Poker is a little too luck based for my liking... Perhaps they should stick to Euchre or Bridge... They're a tag team, after all. LM: What exactly are you talking about? BL: Something _way_ over your head, Morton... LM: Let's keep it that way, okay? Next up, we've got comments from the Machines, who are just coming off an impressive win from that triangle tag match last week. Ladies and gentlemen, the Machines... [Simon O'Neal sits inside the Machine's locker room. He glances at his watch, then begins speaking.] SO: Looks like Paul is late. I'm surprised -- the Boy Scout's always punctual. So we have Damage, Inc. this Saturday, huh? I've been studying their films, and they look pretty impressive. A lot of people think that Alex Porteaux and Eddy Ramos are one of the best teams in the world. A lot of people think they are going to waltz all over us. A lot of people think that we're just stepping stones for Damage, Inc. [Smirks] A lot of people are wrong. They were wrong last week, when they said we couldn't handle Cold Spell and the Harlequins. And they'll be wrong this week, when we leave with the win. I hear Damage, Inc. come from New Orleans, which is a great place. [Pauses] At least, I THINK it's a great place. I went down the Sunday before Mardi Gras one year. I remember getting off the plane, and the next thing I know, it's Thursday afternoon, I have a huge hangover, all I'm wearing are some beaded necklaces, and next to me is this gorgeous go-go dancer with... [Simon stops as his partner enters the room. Paul Wong is carrying a young child on his shoulders, and is holding a frisbee in his hands.] PW: Sorry I'm late. We were at the park, and I lost track of time. Little girl: Hi, Simon! SO: Hold on. You brought Amy here? PW: Yeah, well, sis needed to go to the doctor's, and she needed a babysitter for a few hours. SO: [rolling his eyes] Here I am, trying to intimidate Damage, Inc. this week, and you bring your eight-year old niece here? PW: Yes. What's the big deal? Amy can watch a movie in the next room, and we can tape an interview then. The cameraman: [from off screen] Can't. I'm on a schedule. PW: Oh... sorry. Well, I'm sure this is fine. SO: Fine? Great. Wonderful. Damage, Inc. will spout off their nonsense about dying in darkness and how great they are, and they'll hear you talking about what a great movie "101 Dalmations" was. I'm sure they'll be quaking in their boots. PW: Get real, Simon. We're not intimidated by them, they're not intimidated by us. This Saturday, we'll find out who the better team is, and I'm sure we'll come out on top. Now, sorry to cut this short, but I promised Amy here that we'd watch the movie before I took her home. [Paul and Amy head into a side office with a TV and VCR machine, while Simon rolls his eyes.] SO: He's hopeless. Completely, utterly hopeless. [To the cameraman] I don't suppose you could erase the tape, could you? Or at least the part where Paul shows up? [Guess not. The camera fades.] BL: I don't know what it is, but everytime I hear those guys talk, I get a pain right here [points to the middle of his forehead]. LM: Well, just as long as you don't take a week off like the last time that happened. BL: Oh, yeah, Larry... Har har... Make fun of what could very well be a tumor. LM: A tumor? Come on. BL: Hey, I deserve it... I fully expect to have a heart attack by my next birthday... And then I'll have you as my lackey, getting me pillows and such... Gee, what a life that would be, huh? LM: You've lost me again. BL: Too bad it's not permanent. ------------------------------------------------------------------- 6. Scott Rogers & Highwayman vs. Duncan Macbeth & Timothy N. Turner ------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: There's nothing quite like tag teams made up of singles wrestlers, and that's what we've got in this matchup. BL: Hey, you never know... The champs are singles wrestlers... Of course, one's a complete loser now. LM: I thought we were going to talk about that later... BL: Well... LM: I know, I know... I'll stop bringing it up. This match should be interesting. On one hand, you've got Rogers and Smith, who are members of the same stable, and on the other, you've got two men who are no strangers to tag team wrestling... In fact, Macbeth and Turner hold titles for the same team. BL: Yes, well, you've also got Turner and Macbeth hitting each other now and then, and we all know what can happen as a result of that. On the other side, you've got Rogers, who I still believe can't get along with anyone, simply because he's so annoying. LM: Who knows? We could very well see the teams split, and have Turner and Rogers against Macbeth and the Highwayman! BL: The only thing more perfect than that is if the ring fell to the center of the Earth with all of them in it. Actually, no... I wouldn't mind Turner and Macbeth getting out in time... They're not bad guys. LM: I think you may have a different opinion of them after these comments... [Timothy N. Turner and Duncan Macbeth are in their usual location, the Ace Of Clubs, a swank bar in the heart of downtown Portland. Turner is in a floor length, ash-grey London Fog trench coat, and is sipping at a bottle of Ranier lager after a long day of training for the duo's upcoming tag match against the Highwayman and Scott Rogers of Genesis. Macbeth is wearing his black biker jacket with the red Rampant Lion on the back over a navy blue Team Scotland rugby shirt, and is thoughtfully drawing swirls in the thick foam topping his pint of Guinness. An IIWF camera crew is set up at an adjoining table, and Turner turns to the camera with a smug grin.] TNT: The IIWF is being turned on its ear by the strongest force in the business. Duncan and I are a tougher duo than anyone else in the federation! Syndicate? Genesis? Don't make me laugh! [Turner takes a swig of his beer and makes a disgusted face.] TNT: Gee, how can you tell that we're back in the U.S.? Pah! DM: I told ye t' order an import, Tim. If ye'd wanted water, ye'd hae _asked_ fer water, would ye no'? Bleedin' Yankee piss. TNT: No kidding. Ugh. Anyway, Derek Mota dodged a bullet when Steele, Paris, and Shakespeare teamed up to take me out of the Cruiserweight Tournament. That's okay, though. I like Derek. It would be a shame to have to fight him when there are so many likely candidates in the IIWF. Steele. Quigley. James. As I said after the Battle Royal, it's time for Timothy N. Turner to join Duncan on the championship marquee. Who shall it be? Are you scared, Requiem? What about you, James? Duncan and I could take the Syndicate apart faster than you could say "retirement home"! Who will I pick? Requiem, or the Syndicate? What do you think, Duncan? DM: Well, I certainly would no' discourage ye from goin' after th' Syndicate, 'cause after all, ye're goin t' need a partner t' take th' tag titles, won't ye? [Turner nods his head, chuckling at the Scot's insinuation.] DM: Requiem's another matter. Nae matter what 'e says about all this "quittin' Genesis" bollocks, 'e's still tied t' tha' group. 'E invented this whole Genesis nonsense, 'e led th' group an' recruited its members, an' we're supposed t' believe tha' 'e's just goin' t' turn 'is back on th' whole affair an' pretend it never happened? I'll believe THA' line in th' first week wi' two Tuesdays, wha'. Ye go against Requiem, ye're goin' t' go against th' whole mongrel lot o' them, mark me. [Macbeth pauses to take a long sip of his stout, and stares into the glass, deep in thought.] TNT: Well, that's neither here nor there at the moment, my friend. Tomorrow night, we've got a couple of those Genesis mongrels in the ring. Highwayman, the retread gimmick, and Scott Rogers, the designated waterboy for Genesis. These guys have never partnered before, they don't even like each other! The way they were carrying on at the Battle Royal, they might beat each other senseless, and we won't have to fight them at all! DM: Oh, we'll have t' fight them, all righ'. An' fight them we WILL. Th' way we were workin' in practice this afternoon, it took me back t' th' old days, we haven't missed a step! Those tossers're never goin' t' ken wha' hit them 'till they're both countin' th' ring lights, wha'. An' rest assured, Requiem'll be watchin', an' so will th' Syndicate. They'll be watchin' us demonstrate why Turner an' Macbeth -- NOT Genesis, th' Syndicate, or th' Age O' Rage -- why Turner an' Macbeth are th' single most devastating force in th' IIWF! TNT: That, Duncan, calls for a PROPER drink! Waiter, bring us two glasses of your Highland Park 1967 Reserve, one on the rocks, and the other neat. And would you have any cigars in the back, preferably of the, ahem, _imported_ variety... [As Turner queries the waiter about the Ace Of Clubs' humidor selection, Macbeth turns back to the camera, his expression darkening.] DM: An' Quigley... I hope ye'll be watchin' as well. 'Cause I'll be watchin' YE. "Champ". [Fade.] BL: Oh, yeah, like you guys would stand a chance against the Syndicate... Well... Maybe _now,_ but not the Syndicate that I used to know. LM: Both men are very talented. BL: Oh yeah... Sure... Macbeth, the spell-checker's nightmare... LM: Wait a minute... What does a spell checker have to do with verbal comments? BL: Never mind. LM: Let's get comments from the representative for the Genesis team, Scott Rogers... [SCENE: Scott Rogers' private gymnasium. Rogers is rowing on his rowing machine; his face is red, covered in sweat and his red vest, at least the upper half, has turned burgundy. He gets up off his machine and is seen to be wearing a pair of red and black striped cycling shorts. Steve Summer hands Rogers a towel, which he snatches, uses to wipe himself down, then tosses back in the direction of Summer, who, fortunately for him, ducks.] SR: Summer, how many times have I told ya that this is gym is outta bounds? [Summer contemplates the question for a moment.] SS: To be honest Scott, I don't think you ever have. After all, I've never been down here before... [Rogers grins.] SR: Oh right, just 'cause you never came down here before means I've never told ya not to, does it? SS: No, not at all. I just don't recall you ever mentioning it to me. Possibly you're mistaken and told Larry Morton on his visit here before? SR: No, Summer, I ain't never mistaken. I told _you_ this place is outta bounds... SS: Alright already. SR: Don't you raise ya voice to _me_ Summer... just 'cause Spreadbury says I can't shove ya head up ya ass don't mean I ain't gonna do it. SS: Listen, Scott, why don't we go upstairs... obviously we're not going to get anywhere like this... [Rogers looks at Summer with a mock surprised look, and a smirk, on his face.] SR: You ain't comin' in my place, Summer, no way. I'd hafta think twice 'bout lettin' ya in me garden, never mind me house! We're stayin' down here. SS: But I thought you said I wasn't allowed down here...? [Rogers thinks for a moment, rubbing his chin as he does so.] SR: Nope... don't remember sayin' that Stevey Boy! [Summer shakes his head.] SS: Okay. This coming Saturday Night, you and the Highwayman, Adam Smith, your Genesis team-mate, face Duncan Macbeth and Timothy N. Turner in a special tag team contest. SR: Nothin' special about that, Summer... SS: Whatever. But after the events of yesterday in the War Room, I'll bet you'd rather be teaming with Serge Annis after he saved you from the assault by Derek Mota and Simon Lebec... or maybe even Dakota Bundy? SR: Well maybe I would Summer, but I ain't gonna complain 'bout it. Me and Smith've done a bitta teamin' before so there ain't a problem doin' it again. SS: But he wasn’t there to help you out against Kevin Christiansen yesterday... SR: Summer, don't get outta ya depth, buddy, 'cause you'll find it's a long way back to shore if ya do! SS: Pardon? SR: You heard, Summer... SS: I did, but I don't quite understand. SR: [irritated] Well, forget it then! SS: Alright. As I was saying, there appears to be dissention in the ranks of Genesis right now: Cold Spell quit, even Requiem, your leader... SR: Listen up, buddy, Requiem was _not_ our leader.. even _he_'ll admit that. The guy won the World Title, agreed, but he was _not_ our leader. And if I hear much more of that crap, I ain't gonna be held responsible for what I do. You've been warned. SS: Indeed. So now there's just three of you left and just one month ago, there were three belts in the stable and now there are none, and none of you are in immediate line for title shots, so what does the future hold? [Rogers looks on passively.] SS: How long can this weakened version of Genesis survive is what I basically want to know. Scott? SR: Summer, Genesis now comprises _the_ three best athletes in the IIWF bar none. Try denyin' it, but ya won't convince me it ain't true. Say it Summer. Say Requiem's the World Champ, so we can't be strengthened by his departure. Say it! SS: Well, it's true. To have held the belt so long proves he's doing _something_ right doesn't it? SR: Yeah, he had us watchin' his back. SS: So he _was_ the leader then? SR: _No_. Don't you understand, Summer? We didn't need his help to win but he needed ours. Ya see, me, Sergey and Smith always thought Genesis was split into three, Summer: us three; Requiem; and Cold Spell -- and if we're gonna be honest, I can't say any of us were keen on havin' Icehawk in the locker rooms with us at the enda the night...! [Rogers laughs.] SS: Oh come on, Scott, leave Icehawk alone. He's a great guy. SR: Nah, he ain't. SS: So you believe Genesis will now perform more effectively as a unit now you've split into your own separate groups then? SR: Of course, Summer. Now we ain't gotta look out for Requiem every week and take a few chair shots, we're gonna be 100% stronger. SS: So how do you explain the loss to Kevin Christiansen last night then? SR: I don’t _explain_ nothin’, Summer. The guy got the three count. Big deal. That don’t mean he beat me! SS: In this sport it means exactly that! SR: Crap. SS: Well we’ll have to disagree, but I’ve got the rulebook on _my_ side. [Rogers glares at Summer.] SS: Okay, I’ll agree that both Derek Mota and Simon Lebec were possibly a deciding factor in why you lost out there tonight, but that still brings us back to the Highwayman. Genesis used to employ a ‘look out for one another’ motto, but no longer it would appear. At least as far as _you’re_ concerned... SR: Summer, I ain't dumb. I know what ya tryin' to do. Get me to say I ain't gonna be a part o' Genesis for much longer. But I ain't gonna say it. SS: Is that because you're wanting to keep it a secret? SR: The beach ain't in sight now, Summer. SS: What? SR: The tide's takin' ya out. SS: What _are_ you talking about? SR: Just don't press it, Summer. I ain't in the mood. SS: But you haven't told us very much about your thoughts regarding the tag match on Saturday. Do you two stand a chance considering your feelings toward each other? SR: What “feelings”? You're lucky I ain't gotta short fuse Summer or you'd be standin' on ya head pedallin' that bike with ya arms if I did! [Summer looks at the camera in surprise.] SR: Okay, Summer, if it wasn't two dweebs like Turner and Macbeth, I'd say we'd be in trouble. But it ain't. I mean, Macbeth musta beat odds higher than the soddin' lottery to win that thing last week. And Turner's just a Byron wannabe ain't he? SS: Not exactly, no. SR: Yeah, well the guy don't exactly put fear in me, Summer. Me or Smith could beat both o' them on our own! SS: Quickly, Scott, why do you refer to Adam Smith by his surname? [Rogers again looks at Summer with a shocked expression on his face.] SR: Sorry, Stevey, didn't know it'd offend ya! Ya don't mind me callin' ya Summer do ya? SS: Not really. SR: [smirking] You sure? SS: Well my mother calls me Steven but my friends call me Steve. Call me that if ya like. [Rogers puts his arm around Summer in a friendly way.] SR: Alright, Steve, how about we go out for a drink tonight, _mate_? SS: Yeah, okay. That'd be great! SR: To be seen out with someone like me, ya mean? SS: Yeah, especially if it's not on assignment. [Rogers starts laughing.] SR: You really are sad, Summer. Come on, get outta here! Ya beginnin' to make the air smell. Don't you wash? SS: I thought it was you, Scott, you're so sweaty. [Rogers stamps a foot forward at Summer and he cowers back like a cat. Rogers laughs and then ushers Summer and the cameraman away. Cut back to Larry and Brian.] LM: I'm glad I didn't get that assignment this week. BL: Me too. LM: You _never_ go on assignment! BL: I don't? Wow... Interesting. LM: How _do_ you get away with that? BL: Did I mention I have a _jet?_ LM: Not this again... -------------------------------------------- 7. IIWF INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: Chris Quigley [c] vs. Creed -------------------------------------------- LM: Quigley could have gotten away with not facing Creed tomorrow night, but instead, he _requested_ the match! What a competitor! BL: A bonehead is more like it. LM: Why do you say that? BL: Do I need a reason? Bah... The two of them are boneheads. LM: Why can't you just say that Creed is championship material? BL: Hey, the guy's got skills, and he's got a good work ethic... I won't deny that... I've just... got a problem with him, that's all. LM: And what might that be? BL: [sits and ponders for a moment.] Never mind. How about this... I'm jealous that I'm not managing him, how about that? LM: Really? BL: No, you moron... Man, you are _thick._ LM: Well, folks, with that said, let's get some comments from a couple of guys who just trained with the challenger, who just happens to be Creed. [SCENE: A burned out alley in what appears to be the south side of Porltand. IIWF cameras have traversed over to the "wrong side of the tracks" and are now situated at the end of an darkened alley not exactly swarming with law enforcement personnel. Unseemly transactions take place under cover of shadow...flesh and narcotic are exchanged as freely as would be a Slurpee at the local 7-11. The shot now zooms on the slightly wedged open steel door leading to what apparently is a very old gymnasium. A sign reading, "The End of The Line" is seen above the door and the camera is just able to allow us a glimpse inside..a glimpse of a smoke and sweat filled room -- the grunts of men engaged in combat for money are heard and then a slightly larger that regulation size wrestling ring becomes visible through the haze. Inside that ring are a number of large men...each of them apparently proficient at his craft...as they appear to all have a certain market basket of readily discernible skill when working against each other....armdrags, hiplock takeovers, sharp reverse chins and the occasional snap suplex are apparent as the camera attempts to zoom in further...trying to move the shot closer as a large, chiseled.... ...familiar.... figure moves into the ring....waving his left hand with ferocious intensity as the balance of the ring charges... The door then slams dead shut. BANG! The sound not only being from the steel door -- but from the men still inside...another loud CRASH! is heard...followed by a howling thud and the sickly shatter of bone against bone. The shouts of men are heard as now there is an explosion of metal...followed by another...and what seems like a thousand glass bottles nearly exploding through the steel door. Which then opens. >From it walk two men...each clearly wrestlers...both wearing their gear -- as well as sporting the palpable look of men who are frightened beyond rational thought. The smaller of the two men is in tremendous condition...a picture of the Union Jack displayed on his white trunks. The larger man is barrel chested -- his physique, while not sculpted, is clearly powerful...there is a familiarity to these two men that is just slightly out of our grasp -- but they do have a presence of two men who have been through the wars. And each...each is quite clearly scared to death.] #1: What the {BLEEP} was wrong with that guy? Come up to Portland...do a little sparring..big money. Fine! Great! Not normally something I'd do -- but they offered a lot of money and I wanted to see just how good this guy was. So he watches me and the big man go a little bit -- tells me to go technical -- wants to see the mat work -- some armbar takedowns...some floatovers...a russian leg sweep...a clover leaf... OKAY! I can do that...but then the guy gets in the ring...he's been doing situps like his hair is on fire out there --- and he comes in... #2: AND HE DROPS ME ON MY FRIGGIN' HEAD!! #1: We'll get to that...damn. He comes in...and that glove..he's got that red glove right -- you've seen it on t.v. -- he's got the red glove and it's twitiching like it's not even connected to his hand -- and he's not looking at me....it's like he's looking through me...you know? Like he's not all there....and the guy just starts wailin'! He unloads on me like I insulted his mother or something -- he's just pounding and pounding...and my boy here grabs a chair, you know..to get that black guy the hell off me... #2: AND HE DROPS ME ON MY FRIGGIN' HEAD!! #1: We'll get to that! Damn! And he's hittin' the black guy...and that bastard just stands up and whips him to the ropes....grabbing him around the throat on the pass and like...and like..._he whips_both of them around like he's dunking a basketball and then RAMS my boy into the mat! It sure don't look like that on television...Crimson Tide -- he ain't kiddin'. And then he picks me up...he picks me up and puts on a full nelson -- okay -- I'm what 50 pounds lighter than he is -- I can't get out right? But then he brings me all the way over the top with a dragon suplex -- damn! Damn that guy is just wrong in there. You know? He's screaming at me to get up, right? He's screaming at me...."get up MOTHER[BLEEPER]...get up...get your ass up Quigley and take your beating!" I mean...goddammit..I'm just doing my job, you know? [The smaller man now turns to the bigger man.] #1: Well, go on. Tell him. Come on! Tell him what happened next. [The barrel chested man looks perplexed..and more than a little woozy.] #2: Huh? #1: You know...your head... #2: Oh yeah...HE DROPS ME ON MY FRIGGIN' HEAD!! #1: He picks up the big man right? Okay...he puts him in like a million dollar dream..you know what I'm talking about....but he sticks his thumb..his thumb in his neck, right...and the big guy just goes numb -- I mean -- he just stops moving -- and then the black guy...that punk kid...he back suplexes him -- all the way over the top and right out....right out.... #2: ON MY HEAD! #1: On his head! A triangle sleeper into a back suplex...that's just wrong -- you know? And then the guy starts screaming...cursing at us...then he grabs the chair and throws it through the big picture window and then he starts saying, "Quigley...Quigley...Quigley" over and over and over...you know... All I'm saying is....I wouldn't want to be this Quigley guy -- not for anything in the world. [Another scream is heard from inside the gym as the two men begin to walk out of the shot.] #1: Bastard oughta be locked up. Neckbreakers...spinning spinebuster...damn back suplexes -- he's a damn menace. #2: My head don't feel so good. #1: I know, big guy. We'll go get it looked at....whoever that Quigley guy is -- he'd better bring a gun if he wants to last two minutes with that son of a bitch. Guy is wrong. He's just wrong. [The shot begins to fade as loud noises are again heard from inside...a familiar voice, devoid of its normal calm is heard screaming the name over and over as the shot disappears.] "QUIGLEY...QUIGLEY...QUIGLEY..QUIGLEY!!" [Back to the studio.] BL: Believe it or not, I found that a bit funny. LM: What, the comments? BL: Kind of... Did you see who the big guy was? It was Bobby Lincoln... LM: You mean..? The guy with the soap? In the shower? BL: The same. LM: Oh, man... Oh dear... We could get in trouble for that... Ummm... Let's get comments from the champion right now... Chris Quigley. [SCENE: Outside the locker room of "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley. Tim Dross stands in front of the closed door, holding a microphone, dressed in an IIWF suit.] TD: On Saturday Night, the IIWF Intercontinental Title will be up for grabs in what is a much anticipated match up. It seemed inevitable, from Day 1, when Chris Quigley first hammered Creed with that steel chair, that these two would one day meet. The champion has challenged the red-gloved fighter, in what was a surprising move. I'll try to get some comments from "Quickstrike". [Dross knocks on the door, and it slowly creaks open, Quigley looks out, sees Dross, and allows him in. Quigley, wearing Umbro shorts and a "Quickstrike Island -- Trespassers Will Be Executed!" t-shirt, sits down on the wooden bench, as Dross sits across from him, on a small stool.] CQ: You've got something to say, Dross? TD: Well yes, that's the point. There are a lot of questions floating around about you, and I'm just hear to get answers. CQ: Yeah, whatever. Fire away. TD: Alright. First of all, I'm going to ask the question on everyone's mind. Exactly what is your relationship with Steve Manning, Jr.? CQ: What? You and Roberts hoping it's some kinda homo-erotic partnership? TD: [sighs] As much as Steve Roberts likes to make his opinions known, I, nor does anyone else, actually share them. CQ: I'll bet. I don't know why it's any of your business in the first place, but I'll tell you anyway. Steve Manning is a Quickstrike fan. Why's that so surprising? TD: [agitated] But... but he's gotten physically _involved_ in matches! He ran over Creed's hand with his wheelchair! What kind of fan does that?! CQ: I dunno. A "Sychopath"? One of the "Furies"? Why is it that Joe Petrow can have his band of goons in the crowd, Steve Kowalski can have the same, but when a fan finally gets motivated enough to give me a hand, there's something wrong. TD: Fine. Fair enough. So you're saying Steve Manning is just a "crazed" fan. CQ: Exactly. I don't always agree with his actions, but I'll let him do what he wants, and the IIWF had better let him do what he wants, or there _will_ be hell to pay. TD: Let's get off this subject... kinda. You've got Creed on IIWF Saturday Night. A match you requested. Some say you dodged the bullet when Creed failed to win that 20 Man Battle Royal for the title shot, yet you jumped right back into the line of fire. Why? CQ: [shakes his head] What are you, some kind of idiot? The IIWF is a complete joke. Look who we've got as a world champion. Some guitar playing freak who actually believes he's this great wrestler. When it gets to the point where you have to get Casey James to save you in a match against Joe Petrow, it's just pathetic. This Intercontinental Championship is the #1 belt in the IIWF right now, simply because it's got a worthy... check that, a _more than worthy_ holder. You could nail the IIWF World title to a post and it'd be a better beltholder than Requiem. TD: Yes, so what's that got to do with you challenging Creed? CQ: [rolls his eyes] As the real champion of the IIWF, I've got a job to do. That's to make sure this belt gets defended in the matches the people want to see. Right now, Creed vs. Quigley is a hot ticket. Not to mention the fact that I _really_ want to beat the hell out of Creed like you wouldn't believe. Creed hit the nail right on the head when he said I'm trying to prove I'm still the man. Still a legend. Still the best wrestler in the IIWF. Although I think he's flattering himself just a bit by thinking that by beating him, I'll prove all that. I proved that before when I beat Kauffman. Or when I beat Shakespeare. You want to dig up old memories? How about my first big match, where I beat an IIWF icon, Brad "Bodybag" Kinder? No, Creed won't be some sort of stepping stone into greatness. I'm there already. Creed is gonna be the first example of what happens when you call me out. He'll be beggin' me to let him out of that "Quickstriker" by the 10 minute mark. Place your bets now. TD: So, assuming you are the Intercontiental Champion at Ring Wars IV, you've got Duncan Macbeth. You mentioned on Musings that you weren't too keen on his abilities. CQ: I didn't say it like _that_. I never heard of the guy before a few months ago. Since Monday, I've examined a few tapes, asked a few questions, and I already know how to counter both moves in his arsenal. That's all fine and good, but the one thing you have gotta realize is, despite all this garbage about me somehow "choking" on PPVs... take a look at my Ring Wars track record. My first one, I eliminated three guys in one night, before Dan Kauffman [BLEEP]ed me over. Then, at my next Ring Wars, I made Dan Kauffman give up in what should have been his last IIWF match, but of course, once again, I get no credit or recognition, and he showed up her again a few weeks ago like nothing ever happened. But I won't even get into _that_. Fact is, I figured as champion, this Ring Wars would be the hardest to date, but Duncan Macbeth? Is this supposed to be a challenge? The guy fluked a battle royal win to become the #1 contender. Big deal. He's not in my league, Dross. You know it, and I know it. TD: I won't make a comment on that. Any other plans for the upcoming weeks? CQ: Without a doubt. I'm petitioning right now for Steve Roberts to get his wish and face me in a steel cage. Snapping that never-was into two pieces is a personal goal of mine, and I swear to God, if he ever gets within hands reach of me, it'll be another case of justifiable homicide. TD: I'm not sure we'll be seeing Roberts vs. Quigley ever, but it's nice to know you openly accepted his challenge, nonetheless. CQ: Yeah. Anyway... are we quite through? TD: Yes, I supp... [Just then, the door swings open, and Steve Manning wheels in, wearing a "Blow Me. I'm Parapalegic." t-shirt. He looks at Dross with shock.] SM: Chris! No! Say it ain't so! I didn't mind the late nights out! The drinking! But please, please don't tell me you're sleeping with Dross behind my back!! [Quigley just looks up and Manning, and shakes his head, valiantly trying to hold back his laughter. Dross looks at Manning cautiously.] TD: Mr. Manning, may I ask you, what are you doing here? SM: [smiles strangely] Someone called a plumber, Dross, and I'm here to get rid of the biggest pile of [BLEEP] I've ever seen! TD: Huh? [Manning picks up a baseball bat that just happens to be propped up against a locker, and swings at Dross with it, missing by inches as Dross jumps out of the way, and quickly heads towards the door. Quigley just watches in amusement.] TD: You're a sick individual! A _sick_ individual! SM: Damn right Dross, and your blood is the antidote! [Manning wheels at Dross again and swings the bat, Dross runs out the door, and slams it shut, as Manning connects with the closed door, where Dross was just standing. Manning gives a chilling laugh, while Quigley shrugs, and points at the camera man. The camera man backs away, a little too late, as Manning's bat thrusts towards the camera, and then... STATIC.] BL: You know, the only thing positive I can say about this match is that at least Creed is fighting Quigley... LM: What do you mean? BL: Well, think about it... The man who for some reason can't lose against Quigley... It's just perfect. Quigley will get his ass handed to him once again. LM: When did that happen before? BL: Oh, say... Ring Wars III... LM: Oh, yes... How could I forget... BL: Two guys that had some serious futures beat on him that night... Of course, neither of them are worth a mouldy hot dog in a paper sack now... LM: So you're rooting for Creed? BL: No... I'm rooting for a Quigley injury... There's a difference. ------------------------------------------------------ 8. IIWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP HANDCUFF MATCH: Requiem [c] vs. "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder ------------------------------------------------------ LM: One word... Explosive. Not only do you have a top calibre title match, but you've got the four men most likely to interfere handcuffed around the ring... Steve Kowalski, Otto Verhoeven, The Highwayman, and Casey "The Masked Outlaw" James. BL: James really dropped the ball last week... I hope someone decides to take something up with him when he's cuffed to that ring. LM: You've gone a full 180, haven't you? BL: Oh, come on, Larry... I had faith in the guy. I trusted him. And where did it get me? James ruined any chances we had of getting the belt away from Requiem... LM: Hey, hey... What about Thunder? BL: Oh, please... The guy's tough and all, but he's... you know... "duhhhhh." He's dumb as a stump and then some. LM: I think you're wrong there... He had the brains to get out of the Syndicate. BL: Oddly enough, that was just the tidbit of information that I was about to use to back up my claim. LM: Great... So you don't think he could take out Requiem? Genesis is no longer a factor. BL: And if Thunder believes that, he's as stupid as you, Morton. Please... You don't think I pulled one of these before? I can smell them a mile away. LM: Well, Requiem swears that he's acting alone now... Why don't we hear it from him? Here's comments from Requiem... [SCENE: The desert. The air on the horizon shimmers with heat, buzzards fly overhead, and the clear blue sky is bereft of clouds. In the background a speck of darkness appears upon the horizon, moving toward the camera. As it moves nearer and nearer it soon becomes clear it is a Harley-Davidson motorbike, and as it roars ever closer it soon becomes clear that it is the black clad Requiem that rides it. With a powerful roar it sweeps past the camera position, forcing the camera to turn around to follow as the Harley rides towards the distant horizon. Suddenly a voice is heard, a gritty voice instantly recognizable as the voice that all action adventure TV series use to advertise their show. The voice that says "I'm a real man, you should pay attention when I'm talking to you, goddamnit!"] VO: One man, cheated of a title belt, coming to claim what is his. A dangerous man. A man with a heart of cold iron, pumping steel around his veins. A man who stands alone. A "Lone Wolf", coming to face off against the leader of the pack... [A high resolution graphical image of Brody Thunder is suddenly superimposed over the screen, utilizing a transparency effect that still allows the desert background to be seen behind him.] BT: I'm comin' ta beat ya. An' that _should_ scare ya. VO: The champion. A vicious rulebreaker. If not evil incarnate, the next best thing to it. Cruel. Sadistic. Ruthless. Dangerous. The self-proclaimed "Angel Of Destruction". A man who claims to be "destruction incarnate in human form"... A man with something to prove. [Another transparent high-resolution graphic, this time of Requiem, suddenly appears. The graphic pulls back, colliding with the Thunder image in a clash of dust. As the dust settles, it can be seen that the two images are now staring at each other, grim determination evident upon both men's faces. VO: This Saturday night, "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder faces Requiem, the IIWF champion, one on one. It's sure to be a night of action. It's sure to be a night of pain. For one man, it's gonna be a night of anguish. For another, a night of unblemished joy. [Suddenly, a graphic image of the IIWF World Belt slams into the centre of the screen.] VO: To the victor goes the spoils... to the loser, only heartache... But the question is, who shall the victor be? The "Lone Wolf" or the "Angel of Destruction"? [Suddenly an explosion, the scene shattering into a thousand pieces of glass, and then slowly reversing their course, to fall back into place to reveal the desert once more. Requiem once more drives toward the camera, and as the mighty Harley speeds past, Requiem's shouting voice can just be heard:] RQ: If I've got any say in the matter it's gonna be ME! [The camera then begins to move. Obviously onboard a camera truck, it begins to speed toward Requiem's bike. Slowly, oh so slowly, it edges toward the fast moving black projectile, and then, with a surge of power, it overtakes, adopting a steady position just ahead of Requiem. The camera moves position to shoot to the rear of the truck so that the Harley is caught head-on, Requiem shouting to be heard over the fast moving desert wind and the slipstream of the camera truck:] RQ: Brody Thunder, you must think I was born yesterday or something! "The pup's upset, thinks I'm playing mind games with him!?" Yeah, Thunder, I do! Sue me! Better yet, get in the ring with me and beat the truth into me! I don't care if it's bluff, double-bluff, triple bluff, or just plain no bluff, I _know_ there's something going on there with James, and I _know_ it's none of my doing! So that means it's either your doing, James' doing, or somebody else's doing! Regardless, I reckon it's not good news for me! [Requiem guns the engine, causing the Harley to speed up. It is only with great effort that the camera truck manages to stay ahead, and Requiem laughs before continuing, shouting loudly as ever:] RQ: So, it's a "handcuff" match is it!? Does that make you feel better!? Is that supposed to make me feel better!? Don't make me laugh! Thunder, I know you're not pure as the driven snow, and you sure as hell know I'm not squeaky clean! We _both_ know there are ways around crap like this! Don't for one minute think I'm coming in unprepared! I'll be ready for ya! I'll be ready for your pals! I'll be ready for James, when he makes his move! An' if Genesis makes a move, I'll be ready for them too! I want this one on one, Thunder, and if somebody interferes, whoever does so will regret it sooner or later, but probably sooner! I swear it, Thunder! You hear me, pal?! You don't trust me, Brody! I can relate to that, 'cos I sure as hell don't trust you! You say I'm scared, chump!? There's not a man alive on the face of this Earth that scares me, buddy! Not Deathbringer! Not Casey James! Not Joe Petrow! Not Steve Kowalski! and sure as hell not "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder! You want it bad, don'cha Thunder?! You know I can relate to that, because I want it, too! You want it bad, but I _need_ it, Thunder! You wanna show the world you're a champion, and I wanna show the world the same thing! We've both got something to prove, Brody, but what I've got to prove is a whole load tougher! I _need_ to prove that I'm the right man for this belt - that I always was - and I don't intend to fall at the first hurdle, even if that hurdle is a man like Brody Thunder! Especially not a man like Brody Thunder! Make no mistake about it, Thunder! I don't like you! Truth be known, there aren't many people in this world I do like! But I've seen you in the ring, and I know what you're capable of, and I've got a world of respect for that! Your trouble is, you've bought into the crap the IIWF announcers have been talking about me! You don't look at what I can do in the ring! You wanna know if I buy into this "destruction incarnated in human form" stuff!? Take a look at what I can do to people in the ring before you scoff! You take a look at me, and you think I'm nothing without Genesis, don't you!? You take a look at me, and you think I can't wrestle! You take a look at me, and you think I'm not "tough"! You take a look at me and think I'm not prepared to face a man in the ring!? [Requiem despairingly shakes his head, the Harley shaking slightly as he does so...] RQ: Come Saturday, I'm gonna show you just what a tragic mistake you've made, Thunder! Saturday night one of us is going to stride out of that ring as champion! One of us is gonna be carried out of that ring, Thunder! I don't know if it's gonna be you, or it's gonna be me! Saturday night I'm going to do my damnedest to destroy you, Thunder! If I fail, if you become champion, it's going to be over my dead or comatose body! No way you win while there's breath in my body, punk! One way or another, Thunder, one of us isn't going to be _walking_ out of that ring! Maybe it'll be you. Maybe it'll be me. Can't say for sure! One thing I know, Brody! I doubt that you're expecting any, but just to confirm --- Brody Thunder, for you there can be NO MERCY! [With a laugh Requiem suddenly swerves drastically to the right, gunning the engine on the Harley to the max and speeding past the camera truck. The IIWF camera truck is easily left behind, enveloped in a cloud of desert dust. Carried over the mighty desert winds and the roar of the camera truck engine can be heard unearthly laughter.... Fade.] LM: I can't wait for this match. BL: I hope they both kill each other, and I hope Verhoeven gets a hold of James somehow. Otto deserves a bit of payback. LM: Speaking of James, we got comments from the Syndicate... Well, kind of... Tim Dross went to the Dojo earlier in the week... Let's take a look... [SCENE: Tim Dross stands in a garden courtyard in front of a large set of double doors. Gardeners tend to the numerous plants growing in the spaces between gravelled pathways. Tim admires an interesting sculpted bush made to look like a tiger when the cameraman gets his attention.] TD: Huh? Oh, yes, of course. IIWF fans, I'm here at the Dojo, known as the headquarters for the Syndicate. After what transpired last week, I thought it fitting that I get comments from the members of the Syndicate first hand in their own environment. If you'll follow me, we can go to the door. [Dross steps up to the double doors and pulls on a rope. A gong is heard from inside, and almost immediately, Tiger Claw answers.] TD: That was quick. TC: I was watching you loiter in my front yard for quite a while now. What do you want? TD: I was hoping to get some comments... TC: Alright, fine. Go ahead. TD: Can we speak to Casey James? TC: No. TD: No? TC: No. TD: Why not? TC: Because I said no. That should be good enough. TD: Well, where is he? TC: I have him meditating down in Hakiro's old meditation chamber. TD: Is there something wrong? It looked as if there was something wrong with the former champ last Saturday, and then again on Wednesday. TC: Nothing you need to worry your bald head about, Dross. He will be fine. TD: What was his motivation for the Masked Outlaw attacks? TC: You'd have to ask him that. TD: So we can speak with him then? TC: No. TD: But you just said... TC: I'm sorry, did that sound like an invitation? It wasn't. TD: Okay, obviously this line of questioning isn't working... What about the tag titles? TC: What about them? TD: Well, what will happen to them? I mean, you and Casey are obviously at odds... TC: We were? When? TD: Well, you can't agree with what Casey has done... TC: No, I don't. TD: Then you're at odds... TC: No, I don't think we are. TD: But... TC: But nothing. I may not agree with what Casey has done, but that doesn't mean he has become my enemy. We are tag partners... We are close, almost as brothers. It would take a lot more for me to become an enemy of my brother. TD: I'm sure that men like Verhoeven wouldn't be so forgiving. TC: Probably not... That's their problem. TD: What about the comments from Requiem stating that James is to have _two_ pairs of cuffs on in the title match? TC: Ludicrous. One pair is enough. TD: Will it be done? TC: Not if Casey or I have any say in the matter. TD: But Casey agreed to be cuffed by Thunder. TC: So what? Casey agreed to that when he was... confused. Nevertheless, he gave his word. We have never given our word to Requiem, nor will we ever. Requiem can go shove his cuffs up his... TD: [interrupting] I think we get the point... What do you think of the title match? TC: I couldn't care less... The world title doesn't concern me today. If Thunder wins it, so be it. If Requiem wins it, we'll just have more of what we have now. TD: Darkness in the IIWF! TC: [shrugs] You should pay more attention to the tag ranks... It's not so bad. It's an easy job being champ. TD: I'm not even going to touch that. I wanted to ask you, though... TC: No... I'm done. TD: What? Just like that? TC: Yes... There's no more that needs to be said. You can leave now... And don't hang around in my garden. I don't like vagrants on my property. [Claw slams the door, leaving Tim Dross standing flabberghasted on the front step. Dross looks around a bit, until Claw's face appears in the window beside the door shouting "Leave!" The shot fades.] BL: I don't know why Claw is defending James... LM: Well, it would seem that they're friends... BL: Well, let me get to that later... LM: Alright, then... Actually, you can get to it right now, because it's time for your editorial... ======================================================================== ------------------------THE-ART-OF-CONTROVERSY-------------------------- ----------------------------WITH-BRIAN-LAU------------------------------ ======================================================================== BL: Well, folks, the talk of the IIWF right now s this whole Outlaw situation. We found out last week who it was, and I have just one thing to say... Casey, you big, stupid, stupid bastard. I thought I taught you well. I thought I taught you how to pull a good double-cross. That's what you wanted, right? All that sitting, watching that six man tag match, saying, "I wanna do that," your worship of the Outlaw. Fine... What the hell were you trying to prove? I mean, the mask and all, that was neat... Everyone knew you wore the mask, so they'd think that it wouldn't be so obvious... Good tactic. Throw them off the truth with the truth. But then... What were you thinking when you attacked Otto Verhoeven? He's a friend of yours, man! Petrow, fine... But Verhoeven? And then you let them rook you into that match last week... I mean, are you that dull? Even I knew that the match was a setup to get unmasked! Why would you agree to that? Well, what's done is done... You're the Outlaw. Great. Hardin would kick your ass if he were here. So with all said and done, what do we have? Apparently, Casey has had a breakdown. Tiger Claw has been in touch with me, even though we disagree on this whole thing. Casey's obsession with the Outlaw turned out to be unhealthy. Hell, I knew that... The guy used to talk like Hardin off camera... Casey started wearing a cowboy hat after a while... When Thunder was in the Syndicate, Casey sometimes slipped and called him Outlaw. But Casey was strong, and I never thought it would come to this. But it has... I had the feeling that he was a time bomb about to go off... The drinking... The cigars... The headbanging music... He was unstable. I guess it was only a matter of time... I'm just glad I'm not managing him any more, because it'd be damn hard to try and salvage that reputation. LM: That's pretty harsh... BL: That's the truth. ======================================================================== ---------------------------IIWF-TRASH-TALK------------------------------ ======================================================================== LM: Well, it's time once again for the IIWF Trash Talk Segment... First up, we've got comments from a man that is just coming off a win over Scott Rogers... That man is Kevin "The Cavalier" Christiansen... [Scene opens to a grassy field in front of a crumbling castle tower, with Kevin "The Cavalier" Christiansen sitting on a boulder before it. He is adorned in his full armor, his shield resting against the rock he sits on and a sheathed sword lying at its base.] KC: Greetings, one and all. It would seem that as of late, certain members of the faction known as "Genesis" hath deemed it necessary to rain attacks down upon me, both at mine body and at mine spirit. Rogers, I aided thee in the battle royal... a foolish move on mine part. 'Twas folly to believe that one such as thee could find the appreciation of such aid, and to show thy colors in the midst of a gesture of goodwill is an act most despised. [Christiansen stands up, picking up his shield and hefting it.] KC: 'Twould seem that now, I might need to carry mine shield with me to the ring more often. Rogers, calling thy "comrade" Serge Annis to waylay me in the aisle like a Highwayman... pardon the pun... was poor form indeed. it merely shows the IIWF that thou art indeed a craven braggart, relying on the underhanded tactics of thy cronies to help thee get by. Thy mockery of mine skills in the match itself, too, were in poor form... although'twould seem that in the end, 'twas thy form that was poorest of them all. [The Cavalier looks downwards at the shield for a moment, then up again.] KC: Sirs Mota and Lebec, I know not thy reason for thy aid, but I thank thee... any chance to show to these fools the folly of their ways is appreciated, both by mineself and, I am sure, the others who care not for the tactics adopted by their gang of thieves. Should ever a time come to repay the favor, thou dost need but to ask. And with that, I wish thee fair journeys. [Fade out.] BL: Bonehead... LM: Stop that... BL: Who talks like that any more? LM: I think it's refreshing. BL: He should team up with Billy Shakespeare, then I could not understand either of them at the same time. LM: There's no call for... BL: Maybe the two of them could form a stable with Duncan Macbeth... Wouldn't that just be a riot of non-comprehension? LM: You're being a bit... BL: Hell, throw in the ugly guy, Bundy, as well... He doesn't even talk, so he could be a role model to the rest of them... LM: Speaking of Dakota Bundy, his comments are up next... Actually, they're Matt Malone's comments, but you know what I mean... ['The Mouth' Matt Malone has his feet up on his desk, a glass of brandy in one hand, a cigar in the other. He squints his eyes through the sunlit smoke ] MM: It's okay. Yeah, it's okay. A draw against 'Dog's meal' Puke Steel is fine for a start. I knew Dakota would have a tincy bit of trouble getting used to the competition in the IIWF. But now, yeah, he is. We learnt some useful things in that match. Learnt we couldn't be as indulgent as we'd like to be against our opponents. Problem was, Steele had more resilience than I gave him credit for. Next time Steele, next time. But that is next time. [Malone sips his brandy, puffs on his cigar, then gulps the rest of the brandy down...] For now though, we're moving on. Who know's where? I'll tell you who...me! And maybe some others. You see IIWF viewers, a lot of you are wondering, just what were Genesis doing down at ringside, especially since I'd called that scab Scott Rogers...well, a scab. [Malone chuckles to himself ] And I bet a lot of you are curious as to what they said to me. Well, simply, they said some things about Luke Steele's mother that couldn't be repeated on air...and some things about Luke Steele that could get him put away for ten years. But I'm not going to go into that. What I am going to go into is Genesis. You see, I don't know myself whether they were watching my man as a potential ally or as an enemy. Probably both. Let me tell you all something. Bundy is the most dangerous enemy a man can have...makes it all the more important to make sure he isn't your enemy. And if he is...well, you need to be prepared. Not that you can prepare against Dakota. I make sure of that. [The phone rings.] "I'm busy Tea, I'm busy. I'll get back to you later...yeah, sure...look, I gotta go...yes, I will read that chapter when I get to the hotel...yes, I'm sure they'll have a copy...yes, I know it's the final chapter...look, I've got to go...bye." [Malone puts the handset down.] Sorry about that. I'm a busy man. And now, without Requiem, so are Genesis. Bundy would be an improvement for them, but then again, would it be financially rewarding to join a dying group? A lot of presumptions there, and I'm not going to say anymore about it than I know more than I need to know for Bundy to face Genesis as opponents. Bundy's the big question in the IIWF. And I'll tell you all this, none of you will ever have the answer. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to phone Tea back... [Malone picks up the receiver and dials as the camera zooms in on his fingers and the image fades...] LM: Tea? BL: No thanks... LM: No, I mean... Oh, never mind... Next up we've got the Equalizers... [Sitting in the back of the locker room, moments after Wednesday War, Eric Sampson sits with his head in his hands. The sweat glistens off of his body as he begins to shake his head slowly, his blonde hair swaying to and fro.] In contrast to Sampson, is Scott Paulson. Paulson is visibly angered and is pacing back and forth rapidly. His battle hardened body still tense as ever, Paulson takes a moment to punch the lockerroom wall.] SP: It wasn't all to long ago that to wrestle us meant to actually feel a sense of dread. You knew you were about to wrestle against two of the meanest, nastiest, dirtiest players out there. We had one thing that has eluded us since coming to IIWF. We had respect. ES: [quietly] Yes. SP: We come to Portland. Hey, it's IIWF. We've made it to the big time. We win our first match relatively easy. Then what happens? We lose. And We lose. And we lose. To make a long story short, we've become nothing better than your average joe jobber. WS: Preach On. SP: Then tonight. Tonight, we're wrestling Little Joe and Hoss. Freaking Cowboys. We could be in there, destroying teams, having that fear and respect we once had, but we're wrestling COWBOYS? What's the justice in that? Not only are we wrestling cowboys, we're LOSING to cowboys. ES: [standing up for the first time] AND ON THE FOURTH DAY! GOD AROSE FROM HIS SLUMBER TO SEE ALL HELL BREAKING LOOSE! SP: It's now October, Gentlemen. The time of the job is done. The time for action has returned. No longer will we sit idly by as we're getting trashed by some five-hundred pound idiot. No longer will we feel the punishment of being laughed out of the arena. ES: And no longer will our opponents experience the thrills of living to see another match. Fun time is over. No more silence from us. No more avoiding the interviewers, and their pathetic, "how does it feel" questions. No more wishing that we were with OJ Simpson in solitude. Now...apocalypse shall break loose. SP: And mark my words. Sooner than you think, IIWF, the Equalizers will have respect. The Equalizers will have fear on our side. And most importantly of all... ES: The Equalizers will be the last men standing. [Fade] LM: I don't think the Equalizers realize that losing to the High Plains Drifters is nothing to be ashamed of. The HPD have quite the reputation. BL: Doesn't matter... A loss is a loss. LM: That's a good point. Moving on, our final footage is from the current Cruiserweight champion, Derek Mota... [Cut to a local gym in Toronto, Ontario, the home of the IIWF Cruiserweight Champion Derek Mota. Mota is doing a set of bench presses, a small crowd gathered around him. The IIWF Cruiserweight Title is resting in plain view on top of one of the tables nearby. Mota finally finishes his set and towels off, looking at the crowd around him.] DM: What? You think just because I'm one of the smaller guys in the IIWF that I'm a wimp, huh? I'm still 224 lbs. of friggin' intensity, dammit! That's about 25 lbs. bigger than most of you wannabe's! [The crowd around him dissipates, many people going back to their workouts. Mota looks around him, shaking his head, as he puts his Cruiserweight Title into a gym bag and starts walking to the dressing room.] Speaking of wannabe's, you know why I'm here. I'm so fixated with becoming Scott Rogers, muscles and all, that I've gotta work out 24 hours a day! Watch this! [Mota flexes, and some muscles pop up. It's painfully obvious that while Mota is in excellent shape, he's not a bodybuilder.] Well ... mebbe I don't make a good Scott Rogers. I guess I gotta stay Derek Mota for now ... damn... Anyways, since I still am the Heatseeker, I gotta talk about my new role in life ... as the leader of Genesis. Guys, you gotta stop fighting amongst yourselves! If we're gonna be the greatest stable in wrestling once more, we just gotta get along! Man, do I have ta babysit you guys? I gotta get a headstart on things, October 18th is comin' up REAL fast. I'm gonna be at the tag team match tomorrow ta make sure you guys play nice. As long as I'm there for ya, that Scottish mutt Macbeth and the dynamite kid ain't got no chance! Genesis 4 Life! Yeah! We're going back to #1! [Derek flings the gym bag over his shoulder, and enters the dressing room, slamming the door behind him. Fade.] LM: I thought he hated Genesis? BL: I'm not even going to try and explain this one to you, Morton... LM: Well, I'd kind of appreciate it if you did... No? Okay, fine. We're almost out of time for this week, but before we go, let's get comments from Billy Shakespeare: [Billy Shakespeare watches a silent videotape of Ronnie Paris embarrassing himself as an announcer during last Saturday's Shakespeare/Lebec bout. With the video still playing, he turns to the camera.] BS: "Words, words, words" said Hamlet.  "Brevity is the soul of wit."      Unlike Mr. Paris, I will be both short AND entertaining.  Ronnie,     you're making me rethink my efforts to have you crowned CW champ.     Let's take a look at the wit and wisdom of Ronnie Paris: [LOGO: IIWF Report: 26 September 1997.] RP: Hell, any seat good enough for Billy Shakespeare is way beneath     me. [Cut back to Shakespeare.] BS: But you sure seem to want my Cruiserweight belt, don'tcha? [Cut back to the footage:] RP: 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. [Cut back to Shakespeare.] BS: Yeah, yeah, Ronnie.   You've never bothered learning a new wrestling     move, why bother with fresh material.  Who'd you borrow this from? [Cut back to the footage:] RP: Just make sure you remember how anxious you were to wrestle me when I'm the Cruiserweight Champion. [Cut back to Shakespeare.] BS: This is my point, Ronnie, or haven't you been listening? Typical     critic.  Well, that was certainly painful.  Let's see if this Monday     brought us anything more interesting. [LOGO: Monday Musings: September 29, 1997] RP: Tonight, I wrestled in a battle royal... I drew number 20 and     made a good showing of myself, but yet again the IIWF shows its     disdain for me. [Cut back to Shakespeare.] BS: Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie.  Don't you get it yet?  The IIWF just     expresses the will of its fans.       [Cut back to the footage:] RP: Fear does not become you, Shakes. [Cut back to Shakespeare.] BS: Really?  I thought it brought out the color in my hair. [Cut back to the footage:] RP: I can still kick ass as a wrestler. [Cut back to Shakespeare.] BS: Last I knew, the "ass kick" wasn't a pinning combination [Cut back to the footage:] RP: I'm working on a contract in which I'm issuing a challenge to three different wrestlers... in one night! [Cut back to Shakespeare.] BS: Now HERE is something original we've never seen before. [Cut back to the footage:] RP: I'll elaborate on Friday, but for now that's all I got to say. [Cut back to Shakespeare.] BS: OH PLEASE NO!  Haven't we all suffered enough?  Ronnie Paris, will     your championship reign be as boring as you are?  Remember Henry V's     advice "Men of few words are the best men."    [Billy turns back to the camera]     Next week we'll bring you the collected sayings of Derek Mota.  A last word, Mr. Former-Cruiserweight-champ-to-be.  I AM calling the shots. If you want to be a plyer in this tournament, you might want to ignore a never-was like Lebec and pay more attention to Billy Shakespeare. You and I are to meet in the ring soon. [Fade.] LM: Well, folks, that brings us to the end of this week's edition of "Countdown." Tune in tomorrow as we put on another great card of matches on Saturday Night. In addition to that, I'm told that Tim Dross is going to get some comments from a former IIWF great, although I don't know who that might be. Tune in tomorrow to find out! BL: I know who it is. LM: Who? BL: You want me to ruin the surprise? I don't think so. LM: I thought not... Anyway folks, we'll see you here again next week on Countdown to Saturday Night! Until then, I'm Larry Morton, and this is Brian Lau, saying so long! [The credits begin to roll, and Larry goes back to his little wrestling display with his mock finger-wrestler. Brian looks at him, bounces his hand off the far ropes of the desk, and cuffs Morton in the back of the head on the rebound. Morton flinches, and his finger wrestler inadvertently knocks over his cup of coffee... 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+