________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| |\ /| /\ |\ | | /\ \ / | || | \ v v / | __| | v |/ \| \| __| /__\ \/ |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| | |\ /| |/ |/ \/ | | \/ | |\_// /\ |\ /| | _ | / __ / __ | v | | | / \ . |\ | / \ / \ | | | | \__ | | \| | __ \__ 27 October 1997 | | | | \ | | | \__| \ .....................|..v_____/.|.|..|____|____/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE:  The IIWF interview area.  "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin stands holding a steel branding iron over his shoulder, drying blood -- both his and Duncan Macbeth's -- covers his entire right arm.  His cowboy hat is pulled low and Hardin glares into the camera.] JWH: Ain't nothin' like a good ol' fashioned Texas brawl to set a man      right.  Macbeth, ya got fight in ya, son.  Ya remind me a lot of      'nother young wolf who used ta be hungry fer blood.  Unfortunately... ya just tangled with the wrong hombre.      Quigley... don't ever stick yer nose in my business again or yer lil' cripple boyfriend's gonna be pickin' it outta yer [BLEEP].      And Thunder... the day is comin'.      I'm the bullet. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Brody Thunder sits in the lockerroom, just moments after IIWF Saturday Night went off the air. He holds the IIWF title belt in his hands. He appears to be almost laughing to himself as the camera tightens in for a sideways close-up of the Arizonian. Without looking up he begins to speak...] BT: Predictable.     So flamin' predictable.     Y'see Hardin... I never doubted fer a minnit that ya'd take a match with me. I expected it. I predicted it. [He takes out a cigar and places it between his clenched teeth.]         I _wanted_ it.     D'ya think when I was out there mentionin' alla o' them other idjits, _you_ were last by _accident_? Please tell me ya ain't that naive, son? I knew that ego o' yers wouldn't let ya rest till ya had one more shot at the Wolf. Like I said... [Thunder lights the cigar, sending smoke swirling about his head.]     ...predictable. [He holds the cigar admiring it with a smile.]     An' I was... "touched"... by that l'il story ya told 'bout the wolf yer daddy killed. Well, ya better learn from that l'il fable, hoss.     Ya better learn that if yer facin' the wolf... ya _better_ kill the     wolf. [Thunder looks up at the camera and grins.]     Cuz he _sure_as_hell_ is gonna kill you if ya _don't_. [Thunder slings the belt over his right shoulder and swings around to face the camera straight on. He places the cigar back in his mouth.]     An' of course ya said the dreaded line that supposed ta strike fear inta my heart... "I didn't teach you ever'thing I know". Again, predictable. Some clichés ring true but this one... this one is another myth. See, while ya may not have taught me everythin' ya know... the difference 'tween you an' I is simple.     I don't _need_ ta know everythin' you know ta _beat_ ya, ace.     In fact, I want ya ta watch my match next week with that runt Requiem, amigo. I got me a l'il somethin' I've named "The Widowmaker". Now maybe ya ain't exactly hitched, but that skirt, LaRue, will be as close ta a widow as ya got. [Again Thunder enjoys the cigar, holding it up and flicking away the ash from it.]     So now yer "the bullet"?     Heh, heh... that's rich. Well, I'll tell ya right now, sport... call yerself the Outlaw, the bullet -- hell, call yerself the flamin' Emperor Penguin if ya want. It ain't gonna matter. I ain't wrestlin' a name.    [He once more places the cigar in his mouth and looks hard into the camera.]     I'm wrestlin' _you_.  Ya wanna take me to school.  Fine by me. But ya should know this about yer _student_, "Teach." I ain't exactly easy pupil, y'see...     I got a _real_ problem with authority. But we can discuss that at Ring Wars, my friend. I look forward to it. An' let me jus' leave ya with this. You've been a former champion. You've been a former Hall o' Famer. Come November 8th yer gonna become yet another "former," Hardin.     A _former_ wrestler. [The end of the cigar flares up a bright orange as Thunder fills the air with pungent gray clouds.]     Now I got one other piece o' business ta take care of. I don't want folks thinkin' I'm lookin' past my upcomin' match next Saturday night with none other than the whinin' runt, himself...     ...Requiem.     I see ya took my advice. Ya finally stopped cryin' an' signed a contract. Good job, son. That was the easy part. Now ya get ta step through them ropes an' face me fer the strap I took from ya. Ya get ta hook 'em up with the Wolf. An' in case ya ain't figgered it out yet, Einstein...     ..._that's_ the hard part.     Now I ain't takin' nuthin' away from ya, mainly cuz _I_ hold the title now -- hehe -- I'll give ya yer due. Yer a big man. Yer a bad man. But ya know what, runt?     Ya ain't _enough_ man.     I took this strap from ya an' it weren't no fluke. Now ya wanna see me prove that fact? Okay ace, have it yer way. I get paid a whole lotta o' money ta beat folks up.  Yer jus' next in line, that's all. An' come next Saturday Night I'm gonna do the IIWF an' alla o' them idjits out there a favor. I'm gonna put an end ta yer whinin'. An' end ta yer title hopes. An' if ya ain't too careful, ace... [Thunder spits the cigar to the floor and rubs it out.]     ...I'll put an' end ta yer flamin' career. Lemme leave ya with one     word. A word that's gonna change yer life ferever. A word that     will soon shock the entire wrestlin' world. One word.     One solitary word. [The camera tightens in on the grinning face of Thunder.]     Widowmaker. [Thunder winks to the camera and walks out of view. Fade to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Duncan Macbeth ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade up on Duncan Macbeth, standing in the IIWF interview area backstage at Falcon Stadium in Colorado Springs after his grueling match with the "Outlaw", J.W. Hardin.  The resilient but battered Scot looks as though he has just walked away from an automobile accident, the bite wound on his left forearm wrapped in a white bandage, and dried blood tracks snake down from his nose and scalp and streak his chest. Macbeth's long ginger hair hangs in unruly hanks in front of his face, but cannot dim the intensity of his jade-green eyes as his stare burns into the camera.] DM: Hell of a donneybrook, Hardin.  Haven't had tha' much fun in quite awhile.  I've got t' give th' devil 'is due, ye were th' better man tonight.  But no' by much, wha'.  We'll have t' do it again someday, but next time, ye'll be a wee bit aulder, an' I'll be a wee bit better. [Macbeth shifts his weight slightly, and appears to wince in pain, although his composure quickly reasserts itself, and he continues.]  I lost tonight, but I'm no' disappointed.  I matched th' IIWF's livin' legend blow fer blow, took everythin' he threw at me, an' here I am, still standin'. I reckon Chrissie Quigley's a wee bit disappointed righ' now, though. Hardin must have been th' answer t' yuir wildest dreams, tosser.  Th' Outlaw puts Duncan Macbeth in th' hospital, jus' like 'e did th' Phoenix, an' then maybe ye'll be off the hook fer Ring Wars.  Or else th' Outlaw hurts Duncan Macbeth sae badly tha' ye'll have plenty o' weaknesses t' exploit in tha' no-disqualification tha' yuir four-wheeled bodyguard talked ye in t' askin' for, an' ye'll have an easy time of it in Los Angeles. Time t' wake up, sweetheart. I've probably faced th' toughest, most difficult road t' a title shot in' th' history o' th' IIWF, a road ye'd never have th' backbone t' even look down.  A twenty-man battle royal.  Leavenworth.  J.W. Hardin.  An' now, a four-way dance wi' two o' th' most punishin' men in th' IIWF, Starks an' Verhoeven.  If ye were in my boots, ye'd have been on yuir knees blubberin' in Spreadbury's office weeks ago -- "Don't make me go t' Leavenworth!  Don't make me wrestle th' Outlaw!  I'm scared, Steve, save me!"  But I'm still on me feet, Quigley, an' I'm still walkin' down tha' road. I walked out o' th' battle royal wi' th' shot at tha' shiny belt o' yuirs. I walked out o' Leavenworth wi' a pinfall over ye. I walked away from J.W. Hardin tonight wi' me pride, if no' wi' a victory. An' at Ring Wars, "Mr. Hardcore"... [Macbeth leans in to the camera, lasering the lens with his gaze as his voice changes to a raspy hiss.] I'm walkin' out as th' Intercontinental Champion, an' there's no' a DAMN thing ye can do about it! [Macbeth turns and strides out of frame, but instead of the usual fade-out, there is a loud *CRASH* from off camera.  There is a commotion in the interview area as the camera swings on its mount, the cameraman looking for the cause of the disturbance, and finds Duncan Macbeth lying on the floor of the makeshift studio surrounded by scattered pieces of a toppled lighting rig.  The Scot is lying on his side in a foetal position, clutching at his right knee, and his face is white with pain, his teeth bared in a grimace as an EMT crew suddenly swarms around him. As the medics begin tearing away at Macbeth's tights to gain access to his knee, the Scot can be heard to whisper "No... sweet Jaysis, no!" as the shot fades out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Backstage of IIWF Saturday Night.  The telecast has been over for about a half an hour.  "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley walks into the scene, sweat-soaked and looking near exhaustion, wearing his wrestling tights with the straps hauled down off his shoulders, and holding the IC title belt in his hand.  Steve Manning wheels in behind him, and parks his chair next to where Quigley's standing.] CQ: Maybe they didn't believe me when I said, as Intercontinental Champion of the IIWF, I would take on _anybody_ and I would never, ever back down. Serge Annis, Duncan Macbeth, Brody Thunder, and even J.W. Hardin understand that after tonight.  First off, Annis, you worked so _hard_ for this title shot.  Yeah, right.  You don't know the meaning of the word hard work, so don't come crying and bawling to me, sobbing about how all you've done was for nothing, because you get out of wrestling what you put into it, and you got exactly what you put into it.  _Nothing._ [Quigley looks over at Manning.] SM: Serge Annis.  He reminds me so much of my grandmother.  Maybe it's his voice.  Maybe it's his physique.  Maybe it's the fact that I've clubbed both of them in the kidneys with a lead pipe.  But Serge Annis will never bake a chocolate chip cookie like Grandma Manning.  The secret ingredient was love!  [Manning laughs like a son of a bitch.] CQ: Man, what the _hell_ are you talking about?  Wait.  It doesn't matter! Serge Annis is yesterday's news.  What I've got to do now is look towards the future.  Specifically, Ring Wars IV.  Duncan Macbeth, you gave it your all against J.W. Hardin tonight.  You put forth a great performance.  But the cold, hard fact remains.  You did your absolute _best_.  And it was _not_ good enough.  J.W. Hardin was a great wrestler, a few years ago.  The fact that you lost to him tonight proves how pathetic a wrestler you actually are.  I told you already Macbeth, you can't wrestle with the legends.  You lost to Hardin, and at Ring Wars IV, you're facing _the_ legend.  You're gonna be _struck down_! [Quigley walks off the set, as Manning spins his chair to look directly into the camera.] SM: Duncan Macbeth... what you've got to realize is, at Ring Wars IV, you're facing impossible odds.  Chris Quigley was mastering the art of wrestling when Duncan Macbeth was just a tilt in his father's kilt!  [Manning smiles ear-to-ear.] SM: Chris Quigley does _not_ choke on pay-per-views, like everyone in the IIWF falsely accuses him of.  The only one choking at Ring Wars will be... heh... will be the "Soundbite" after I tinker with his shiny little car to release all those lovely fumes into the interior.  Stevie, will you think of me while you're dying?  Please.  Think of me.  Think of _me_! [Manning explodes into laughter as the cameraman has obviously had enough and cuts the scene.  Black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Creed ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Immediately after Chris Quigley's title defense against Serge Annis and the subsequent three way brawl between Annis, the Subway Psycho and the red gloved warrior Creed....Creed stands alone in the makeshift IIWF interview area deep in the bowels of Falcon Stadium. Creed has regained his customary composure following his display of explosive anger toward Annis in the ring - and now stands calmly, his glistening black skin covered by a black t-shirt reading "One More Time".] CREED: Serge.  Said what I had to say 'bout you.  You ain't good 'nuff to say much more 'bout. Said it last week.  Said it tonight with the Dragon Creedplex.  You like that, Serge?  Got 'bout 20 of 'em.  All nasty.  Ugly.  Mean ole' Creedplexes.  Got 'em for you.  Damn, you lucky, Annis. When you in the hospital, for weeks and weeks...can't feel your arms...can't feel your legs...hell, some parts of you prob'ly ain't even there no more.. If they ever were.... When you in that hospital, Serge, you can take pride that the man who ended yo' career was the greates' wrestler in the world.  The man with the red glove. Case you ain't payin' 'ttention -- That be me. You a damn lucky man, Annis.  Someone with as little talent as you bein' allowed to get yo' ass beat down by someone like Creed. But I done talkin' 'bout you Annis.  Who I want talk 'bout is the Subway Psycho. Like a 'nother lifetime, ain't it Psycho?  When you and Creed teamed up... then when you and Creed threw down two times.  Two times.  Two draws. Hard fought.  Hard worked.  Hard wrestled. Least by me. Psycho -- I told you then and I tell you now... you will never beat Creed. Never.  Not on yo' best day with yo' planets all lined up and the wind at yo' back and yo' daddy as the referee. Never.  You ain't never been...you will never be good enough to beat me. I seen yo' best -- I took yo' best... An' I still beat you like you owe me money. You don't owe me no money, Psycho.  But you do owe me somethin'. You do owe me somethin' and every man in this company know exactly what you owe me... they know 'xactly what you got to give up for Creed... They know what you gotta do. I jus' better than you, Psycho.  Every day of your life, Creed be better than you. I better than you yesterday.  I better than you today. I better than you tomorrow. And I better than you on November 8... when we go in front of 100,000 people at RW4. In the barbed wire. In my las' match in the IIWF. In _my_ house. See you in two weeks, Psycho.  Serge -- you can bring yo' jobber ass too. My las' match, wanna get my dollar worth. Ring Wars IV.  Ring Wars IV.  Ring Wars IV. Y'all belong to Creed. [The shot fades as what almost appears to be a smile curls up on the lower lip of the red gloved warrior Creed.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Serge Annis ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The screen shows following behind Serge Annis as he walks through the hallways of the Falcon Stadium. The lighting isn't all that good, but a giant red welt is visible on Serge's back, as the camera follows in behind him. In Annis' hand is the blood red coloured steel chair, that Creed brought with him down to the ring, as the JJS aparently failed to wrestle it out of Serge's hands. Serge looks over his shoulder, back at the camera as he continues walking. He does not look happy.] SA: Well, well, well... plenty of things to discuss here... but I won't. Steve Manning Jr... that was one helluva shot. Good job, I'll be feeling that one for a bit... heh heh. Thanks for the memories. Unfortunately for you, Manning... the ball is in my court now. And when you least expect it, Manning, I will step back up to whoever is IC champ, and I will win the title.   But now Creed and the Subway Psycho want the Epitome of Evil's blood? Psycho, you called me an asshole before, AND YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT! I'm the biggest asshole you'll ever meet. But more importantly... I'm the darkest... the most evil asshole that you will ever cross paths with in your pathetic lifetime. Psycho, you should have stayed playing in the sweres back home, while you were licking your wounds.    Creed? You should have stayed home with your Momma, crying up a storm. But the both of you are not very bright, are you? YOU CAME BACK TO THE IIWF! Well, things have changed! The IIWF is now Serge Annis' playground! I have risen above the status of Genesis... and emerged as a true holy angel of Hell! If you think for one damn second. Just ONE damn second... that I intend to go back to the way things were... as Genesis' lap dog... as the IIWF's most over-rated jobber... think again! Serge Annis has emerged from the ashes... and I have a problem with the two of you waltzing back in, and not re-claiming your status or your wins. No... you two losers expect the limelight to be focused straight back on you. WELL I GOT NEWS FOR YOU... Psycho... no one cares about you any more. You are yesterday's garbage... and Creed? You're gonna bail IIWF once more, out of fear. Deep down inside that thick empty skull, you've realized that the only place left for you in the IIWF, is behind the Serge Annises, behind the Byrons, behind the Butchers, Requiems, Outlaws... hell, even the Steeles! And your ego just can't handle it. Creed, you aren't from the street... you are just an egomaniac on his way to the bank to cash in his overpriced pay check. Well Creed, after I finish with you at Ring Wars IV, the only check you will be collecting... IS YOUR UNEMPLOYMENT CHEQUE! You asked for it Creed... you don't know what you've gotten yourself into... heh heh heh... [Fade to black] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Lord Byron ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene cuts back to the locker room area, where an infuriated Lord Byron is fighting off the efforts of a security team to usher him outside.  He snarls and shrugs a guard's hand off, and storms across to the cameraman...] LB: [snarling]  That's it, Verhoeven.  That is the final straw.  I was perfectly happy to stay in retirement, to let things lie as they were.  All I wanted was a chance to tell my side of the story, and respond to the constant stream of insults you've been throwing in my direction ever since Coronation Clash. [Byron yanks his hair out of his ponytail angrily] LB: But no -- you had to turn it into a brawl.  And worse, you laid hands on a lady who had never been anything but gracious to you and Heidi.  You struck a defenceless woman, a woman whose only mistake was that she tried to stop her... her friend from being crippled when no one else would.  You make me sick, Verhoeven, you, you and Lebec... you make me completely sick! [The security guard again tries to pull Byron back, and Byron throws him off and straight into a locker, before turning back to the camera and tearing the tattered remains of his shirt off.] LB: Is this what you want, Verhoeven?  Do you want a piece of me?  Do you want to try to cripple me for good?  Let me tell you -- better men have tried and failed!  But I don't care anymore, Verhoeven!  Do you hear me?  I don't care anymore, because I want a piece of you. [Again Byron shrugs the attentions of security off, before pointing straight into the camera] LB: Do you hear me, President Spreadbury?  Do you hear me, Janois?  You heard correctly, believe me.  I want Lebec.  I want Verhoeven.  I want back. You heard me.  I'm going to take this to the very top if I have to, but I want back, and I want Verhoeven. You know what I'm asking for. [Byron backs away from the camera slowly, brushing his hair back out of his face, eyes blazing with anger and frustration.] LB: I'm asking for reinstatement. [Byron steps back, and turns, storming through the clutch of guards and out of the room.  The scene fades out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Cold Spell ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The IIWF backstage interview set, just moments after Cold Spell learns that they will be on opposite sides of the PPV tag-title match. Surprisingly, both Icehawk and Edmund Fitzgerald seem quite amused by the whole thing.] IH: This is going to be great! For a year now, we have been arguing over which of us would win in a match between us, and now we get to find out! And we get to find out on a PPV! And no matter what happens, we will still be the tag champions. EF: You think there is a _question_ about who is going to win? You must be deluding yourself. Have you never heard the expression that a good big man beats a good little man? You and Trag are two of the best cruiserweights in the IIWF, and both great tag-team wrestlers. But Chaos and I are going to outweigh you by almost 200 pounds. We'll just try not to squash you too badly, okay? IH: [grinning] Oh, I'm terrified! I have to wrestle a nutcase with a bad knee, and [doing a bad Scott Rogers imitation] a freak that thinks he is a sunken ship! [Back to normal voice] Plus you only have one good shoulder! If you are nice to me this week, and make me dinner in camp, I'll tell Trag to take it easy on you, and not pull your shoulder right out of its socket. [giggles] EF: Kiddo, I have only one concern about this match. IH: What's that? EF: That you are so scrawny that I'll drop you when I go for the Shipwreck Slam! [The picture fades as Fitz and Icehawk walk off the set, laughing and making hand gestures to describe what moves they are going to use on each other at Ring Wars.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Harlequins ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Harlequin Tragedy and Harlequin Chaos enter the interview set, looking stern.] HCh: By the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes. HT: Macbeth. HCh: They're also using that as the slogan for Ring Wars IV. HT: We'll be there. HCh: But on opposing sides. HT: I know, I don't like it either. HCh: It's a weird cycle that we've gotten caught up in.  I mean, I'm happy for you. You're a champion.  But... HT: You want to be there with me. HCh: I don't know if I can do this. Can you find someone else to fight? [Tragedy pats Chaos on the shoulder.] HT: I'll try, little brother. I'll try. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Blind Guardian ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF interview area. The Blind Guardian is seen, wearing a white cloak and a white piece of cloth around his eyes.] BG: What a nice turn of events, right, Rectum? Brody Thunder will be     facing the Outlaw J.W. Hardin in the main event at Ring Wars IV. Seems as if no=one wants to give you a chance at the belt. And it seems as if I don't have to jump you from behind to avoid that you wear the gold again within the next few weeks, freak.     Yes, indeed, I like this crappy league more and more [laughs a little bit]. And as we're talking about crap --- Rectum, your ugly face falls back into my mind.      How about it? How about the two of us, face to face, right there at     Ring Wars IV? How about the Angel of Destruction against the irrelevant one?     I doubt that you have the guts... But maybe you have...     So --- how about it, brat? [The Blind Guardian pulls a piece of paper out of his cloak and presents it to the camera]     Look at this... It's a contract. A contract for a match at Ring Wars IV. You just have to put your name on the dotted line, Rectum.     Use your chance, Rectum, wipe me out... or expect me to be whereever     you are 'til the end of your career. [The Blind Guardian drops the piece of paper and removes the piece of cloth that covers his eerie white eyes]     I am the Blind Guardian... [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Scott "the Fop" Rogers ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Scott "The Fop" Rogers standing before an IIWF backdrop. Rogers looks slightly concerned, a difficult expression to describe.] SR: Hey, Bill, don't think there's much point in us squarin' off like you wanted after all, is there? I mean, you lost to the man who only wishes he had half what I got, and _he_ weren't even I prepared for ya! So I guess, Del, you're gettin' there. [Rogers grins at the camera, almost personally to every viewer.] SR: Warnett, I ain't got no beef with you, buddy. So no need to spend hours on the john wonderin' when I'm gonna get me revenge. I ain't that kinda guy. Except when it comes to Smith. You're just diggin' yourself a hole, Smith, that's gettin' deeper and deeper but ya didn't read the instructions, did ya? The idea was you filled it in. Holdin' me legs for the pin _don't_ me you help Warnett get the win. You're just provin' you don't cut it with the big boys, Smith. Ring Wars IV's gonna be a night you ain't gonna forget in a hurry... _unless_ this Saturday you prove to me you got somethin' worth salvagin'. [Rogers begins to laugh. Fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Highwayman ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Adam Smith stands in the IIWF interview room, a makeshift black drape covers the rear wall.  An evil look glare is present in his steel-grey eyes as he desperately tries to keep calm, taking huge draughts of air in an effort to relax:] HWM: Well, Rogers, how's it feel to get the loser's share of the purse?      You made the biggest mistake of your petty little career when you crossed my path.. [Adam's words are spat with such venom that the camera-man nervously shakes the camera, sending the big Englishman into a incomprehensible screaming frenzy at the man!  The camera shakes even more as Adam cocks back a ham-sized fist at the man, who darts out of the room quickly, a glare like daggers following him out of the door.] HWM: Did you hope to make a name for yourself at my expense Rogers?  WELL I'M NO [Bleep]ING STEPPING STONE FOR SOME SNOT-NOSED LITTLE PUNK LIKE YOU ROGERS!  I've been here for close to a year, I've beaten virtually everyone I've faced!  The guys that have pinned me can be counted on the fingers of one hand; Deathbringer, Watkins, Creed -- hey Creed?  You remember our little war? [A fleck of spittle catches the camera lens as Adam begins to grin maniacally, his breath coming in short rasps:] HWM: You think you stand up against any of them Rogers?  DO YOU?  You aren't even fit to polish my boots!  I don't know who has the biggest ego problem, you or Steve "Shitebiter" Roberts!! Yeah Roberts, you heard me right! [Adam begins a high-pitched squealing laugh, which he cuts short with a start.  Almost as if someone flicked a switch inside his head, the smile is gone, only to be replace with a malicious glare:] HWM: Well, Scott "The Flop" Rogers, Spreadbury assures me I can have your hide at Ring Wars.  Let me give you a quick bit of advice.. Get your insurance up-to-date... You're leaving on a stretcher.. heh heh! I hope... hehe!  I hope you like soup...  Hahahaha! ..'cause you're gonna be taking... Hahaha! ..your food in through a straw! HAHAHAHA!! [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Real Deal" Luke Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade up on the makeshift IIWF interview area, set up specially for Saturday Night at Falcon Stadium.  It appears empty for just a few seconds, until "The Real Deal" Luke Steele strides in, smile on his face and "Beware the Steele Machine!" written on a t-shirt across his chest.  Luke looks at the camera, and begins to speak.] LS: Well well well.  The IIWF has taken notice, the Machines and Luke Steele are on the warpath.  Licensed for Devastation found out this weekend just what we're made of, and in a big way.  Gee Starr, I guess I shouldn't have helped you back in the ring, I should have known better than to assume you were able to stop from beind pinned [Luke grins brightly again] by Icehawk. Predators, I don't know what the hell your problems are, but don't think that you're outta the woods by any sense of the word.  As soon as Paul and Simon take care of LFD, you'll be the next target. Oh, congratulations Turner.  You really know how to grab a scrap from the Justice Squad: Rogers' version and the Gecko's version.  I'm sure all of America is proud to see its tax dollars at work for that little contraption. [Fade down to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Machines ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Paul Wong and Simon O'Neal stand in the IIWF interview area.  Paul has a serious look on his face, while Simon is much more jovial as he begins] SO: ...making a list, checking it twice... PW: Oh good Lord, he's singing again. SO: That's right.  The Machines are coming to town, and taking care of everyone on our list.  LFD, you were the first name on our list.  You were the ones who first started sneak attacking us, and you were the ones who threw fire at us.  Well, tonight, when you go home without the belts, think of Paul, think of Luke, and think of me.  Because we are the reasons you don't have those titles. PW: I still don't like this... but we didn't start it.  LFD did. SO: And they paid.  Big time.  Next up, the Down Boys... PW: Who AREN'T on our list, despite the unfortunate incident with the fireball.  Don't get me wrong, we'll do what we can to beat you. But we don't have any personal animosity for you guys... SO: [smirking] ...unless you want to make it that way.  PW: [shaking his head]  We really, really need to work on your people skills, Simon. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Licensed for Devastation ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Reggie Starr and Jonathan Chaos of Licensed for Devastation, in front of an IIWF blue backdrop.  They're wearing their wrestling attire, complete with "ARMY FOR LIFE" and "GO NAVY" on their tights.  Chaos's face is wrapped up.] RS: We lost, Jon.  We [BLEEP]in' lost our shot to get the gold! JC: It wasn't our damn faults.  [Chaos grabs his face.] JC: It was the damn Machines.  It was Luke Steele.  It was the Natural Predatahs.  Reggie... I ain't gonna stand for it. [Chaos removes the bandages from his face.  A hideous sight, of what seems like hundreds of stitches, is seen across Jonathan's face.] RS: Jon, you're supposed to be wearing that... [Chaos puts his hand on Starr's chest, silencing him.] JC: Ya'll think this is ova, don't you?  Natural Predatas... we neva' asked for yo' help.  You helped us, and you saved me from some mo' beating from da' Machines.  But ya'll listen closely.  [whispering] This ain't ova'.  [regular voice] Not by a long shot.  My face is scarred. It's gonna be like dis fo' a long, long time.  But the pain that I felt, the agony that I went through... it's nuttin'.  _Nuttin'_ compared to da' revenge 'dat I'm gonna get on the three of y'all.  RS: Jon, calm down, we're supposed to talk about the Cold Quins... JC: [BLEEP] the Cold Quins.  Harlequin Chaos wants a piece of me?  With yo' damn crutch!?  Come get some, from da' real Chaos!  Tragedy's pissed 'dat my man Reg tried to shock his wife?  _Come get some_!  We ain't hard ta' find.  Ya'll're challengin' da' LFD!  Da' Real Deal Luke Steele thinks he can get away with what he did, so does da' Machines.  Wong, O'Neal, Steele... Tragedy, Chaos, Fitzgerald, Icehawk... ya'll think dis' is ova'. RS: But it isn't. JC: Hell no it's not.  Come Wednesday... come Sata'day... come Ring Wars... ya'll've opened up a giant keg of whoop-ass.  Look out behind ya.  The LFD are there. [Fade to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Timothy N. Turner ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The IIWF interview area sits quiet and empty. Suddenly Timothy N. Turner wanders into the scene singing Elton John's "Rocket Man"] TNT: Whooooo! Do I put on a show or what?I certainly saved the wrestling world from having to go a Saturday without seeing the greatest wrestler in the sport today! True, I wasn't wrestling but at least I made an appearance. Now IIWF fans from all over will be able to see me, Timothy N. Turner, beat Ronnie Paris like the overblown half-a-man that he really is and move on to face Derek Mota at Ring Wars IV! I can hear the buy-rate climbing as we speak! Even the chance of TNT being in line for a title makes the world get excited! Finally, TNT will get his due. When my friend Duncan and I leave Ring Wars IV, Steve Roberts will be shown to be a genius. Roberts referred to Duncan and myself as the strongest force in the sport, even when both the Syndicate and Genesis were still together. In two weeks we will have the gold to prove it. It is true that this week was not all great for yours truly. Dakota Bundy and big mount Malone handed me a rare defeat. I'll admit... I took you lightly. You resorted to despicable acts that are so far below Timothy N. Turner that I wasn't able to react properly. For you see, TNT would never dream of using foreign objects like you did, Bundy. I'm as pure as the driven snow. I'll tell you what Bundy. I'm a little tied up right now, what with winning the Cruiserweight Title and everything, but how about I make you a challenge for after the pay per view. I offer you the first crack at my Cruiserweight belt. That's right. Despite the fact you have done absolutely nothing to earn it, you will get a chance, a slim chance mind you, at a gold belt. I'll see the rest of you suckers in sunny California! [TNT wanders off, singing "Rocket Man" again, as the scene fades.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Dexter St. Croix ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Dexter St. Croix, dressed in black nylon sweat pants and a white Florida Marlins t-shirt, stands in front of the IIWF banner, flanked by Matty and BoBo. Dex appears jovial as he sips from a water bottle...] DSC: Mister Paris. I came into de Cruiserweight tournament an underdog, de wrestler dat nobody feared an' nobody expected to win de damn t'ing! But ol' Dex, 'im got a little tired o' bein' kicked aroun' by de so-called "superstars" in de IIWF. So tonight, Mister Paris, ol' Dex, 'im decided to fight fire with a little fire of 'im own, mon. De Rastaman, from now on, 'im comin' wid all 'im got or 'e ain't comin' at all. [Dexter takes a sup from his watter bottle, sloshes it around in his mouth, and spits the water on the floor...] DSC: De writin' is on de wall, mon. Dexter St. Croix, 'im gonna get de respect 'im deserve, or some people 'round 'ere gonna pay, and pay dearly. Peace out. [Dex, Matty, and BoBo shuffle off, chuckling as the scene fades to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Richard "Moxy" Blue ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The general IIWF interview backdrop, with the IIWF logo hanging majestically in the background. On camera walks everyone's favourite little guy, Richard "Moxy" Blue. He is dresses in ripped denim shorts with obnoxious metallic boxer shorts showing through, and one of Steve Manning Jr.'s "Shoot Soundbite" T-shirts of unknown origin. His hair is blonde once again, and he wears his favourite crecent moon sunglasses. He is obviously extremely bored after not being on Saturday's card, his disposition is dim. As Blue walks by, he realizes he's on live camera and does a devilish take to the camera as he looks over the rims of his sunglasses] RMB: Did you ever wonder how deep the ocean would be without sponges? [RMB walks out of the frame, apparently entranced with something off camera. We hear his cries of "Hey! I want some cookies too, dammit!" just before the camera fades to black.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Jim Jividen | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | brokeback@webtv.net | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+