C + O + U + N + T + D + O + W + N T + O ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/..............\........|...|.......|....| with Larry Morton and Victoria Von Edward Friday 28 November 1997 [The shot opens to the IIWF studios. Sitting behind a very business-like desk area are the two co-hosts.] LM: Welcome back to Countdown! We are coming off one of the most exciting IIWF pay per views in history and we've got even more exciting matches in store for all of our great fans! VVE: The IIWF is on roll and it shows no signs of stopping! LM: For everyone who didn't see the Golden Grapple Awards, allow me to introduce to you, my new co-host, Victoria Von Edward! VVE: Thanks Larry. It is a real honour to be a part of the promotion that has included such greats as J.W.Hardin, Dan Kaufmann, and Timothy N. Turner. LM: Your association with the "Rocket Man" is well known...are the two of you some sort of item? VVE: No. Tim is a good friend and lets just leave it at that. We enjoy shopping together...but that's about it. LM: We are about to witness the first IIWF Saturday Night since Ring Wars, and what a card it is! VVE: That's right, Larry! Fans of the IIWF form of sports entertainment would be well served to have thier VCRs ready. We are going to see some great action! LM: Any card that has three champions in one ring is an important one. VVE: That's right. We've got a Champion vs. Champion vs. Champion Triangle Match pitting the "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder against "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley against "Rocket Man" Tim Turner! This match is going to be a barn burner! Whomever wins this one will have supreme bragging rights over the whole IIWF! LM: All three competitors had something to say about the match up this Saturday. Let's go to those comments. -------------------------------------------------------------------- "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder -------------------------------------------------------------------- [Brody Thunder stands at ringside in an empty arena. He's dressed in jeans,black hat and shirt. The IIWF title belt is slung over his left shoulder. He paces slowly back and forth,rubbing his jaw. He finally pauses,shakes his head slightly and looks into the camera.] Lemme jus' make this short an' sweet. Quigley an' Turner. Three-way dance. One winner. Well fellas,tomorrow night we're gonna tangle in a free-fer-all. An' alla yer jawin' ain't gonna change the fact that when the dust settles,the Wolf's gonna be takin' home the big coin. Now Quigley...ya best fergit 'bout that idjit Manning. He ain't gonna help ya in that ring. You an' I got some unfinished business an' tommorrow night I'm fixin' ta settle our account....one way or th'other. So ya better give me yer undivided attention tomorrow night cuz if ya don't I'm shippin' yer Canadian backwoods ass back north o' the border on a slab,amigo. I've had ta listen ta yer whinin' an'bellyachin'fer a year now. Tomorrow night I'm shuttin' yer flamin' piehole,fer good. An' Turner..._Rocket man_ or whatever the hell ya call yerself, ya don't seem ta think much o' the Wolf. Well ace, give me a mirror an' I'll show ya someone who cares what ya think,cuz I don't. Ya seem ta think yer somethin' special,runt. Yer jus' another pretender lookin' fer yer fifteen minutes o' fame. Well ace, yer gonna get it at the hands o' the Wolf, cuz tomorrow night ya won't be _walkin'_ outta that ring the winner. You'll be carried out a loser. Life's fulla hard lessons, boys... class starts tomorrow night. [Thunder turns to leave,then turns back to the camera,the grin now replaced by a stoic stare.] An' Kowalski...pal..you jus' keep talkin' big,hoss. It makes it easier ta find ya. See I jus' wanna give ya a lil "season's beatin's" ta put ya in the holiday spirit. See ya soon, big man. [Thunder turns and walks off camera as the shot focuses in on the IIWF banner on the ringside apron. Fade to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The locker room of "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley. Quigley sits on the bench, in his wrestling gear, the Intercontinental Title belt gleaming on his shoulder. He looks up into the camera.] CQ: Respect. It's a funny word. There aren't many men in the IIWF I respect. Timothy Turner sure as hell isn't one of them. Brody Thunder on the other hand.... [Quigley shrugs.] CQ: To say I respect you, Thunder, simply means I'd wipe my boots off before I stomped your face in. I remember you costing me the World Title at Birthday Bash. I remember how the Cattle Buster DDT felt, firsthand. But I also remember pinning your shoulder to the mat not too long ago, and I remember saving you from J.W. Hardin at Ring Wars IV. We've had quite a history for two guys who've never really crossed paths. That ends tonight. The paths have crossed, and the destination for me is to prove myself as the one true champion of the IIWF. [Quigley stands up, and paces a little around the room.] CQ: You're a cowboy, Thunder. A tough hombre who tries to use intimidation with a southern drawl to win matches. Nothing intimidates me. I stared death in the face. I put everything on the line in a submission match against a legend of the IIWF. I dulled a Butcher's knives. I tossed aside Duncan Macbeth like a caber. You've had a war of words with J.W. Hardin and a so-called victory over the over-rated wonder, Requiem. [Quigley nods his head.] CQ: I'll admit, I've had my share of dusty finishes as champion. Steve Manning has been a thorn in the side of all my opponents, but he's nowhere around tonight. It's just you, me, and the "Rocket Man", whatever that means. Turner is always challenging me. Maybe that makes him the Challenger. We know the story about _that_ rocket. It self-destructed, and in the end, Turner, so will you. You're not in my class, and you're not even in Thunder's class. And that will become _painfully_ evident to you by the time this match is over. Three men. Three belts. One champion. Anyone wanna guess who it is? [Quigley stares into the camera intensely, as if daring anyone to deny his claim, as the camera fades out...] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Rocket Man" Tim Turner ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera fades into a shot of Tim Turner relaxing in his opulant penthouse apartment. Turner is lounging in a silk robe and the Cruiserweight Title Belt is displayed prominantly on a nearby mantle.] TT: This Saturday I get to do exactly what I want to do...not defend my title. I instead get to join those that are considered my peers in the ring for a triangle match. This will be where the whole IIWF realizes who the top perfomer in the sport truly is. It won't be an old cowboy with a speech impediment who seems to be overlooking the "Rocket Man". It won't be Manning's sidekick who wasn't good enough to beat Duncan Macbeth, the real Intercontinental Champion. No. It's the "Rocket Man". I won't be flying on Saturday since the IIWF is having some little ladder match with my jet pack, but I will be soaring above the pack on pure talent alone. [Turner looks over his shoulder at the belt.] TT: This belt symbolizes excellence. Why don't the other two? [Fade back to the IIWF studios] LM: You certainly can't call any of these champions under-confident. How do you call this match? VVE: This is a very tough call. Of course you must remember that Brody Thunder is the man in the IIWF. He won the title from Requiem and then beat J.W.Hardin. It could be argued that he ran both men right out of the promotion! On the other hand you have Chris Quigley, who is one of the most technically gifted athletes in the IIWF. He may not have kept the title in a clean manner at Ring Wars...but he did keep it. LM: What about Tim Turner? VVE: Tim has got to be the black horse in this event. The last time there was a match of this sort it was in fact the Cruiserweight Champion, Dirt Dog Unique Allah, who claimed victory. Tim is a very intelligent wrestler who has the skills to beat anybody in the sport. He just has to remember to keep his ego in check while in the ring. LM: Thunder has got to be the favourite though. VVE: No question. If I was a betting person I would go with big Brody. LM: All right...on to the next match. This one is a very important match since it dictates who will face Brody Thunder on December 13 for the World Title. VVE: Assuming he is still champion. LM: That's a good point. Thunder is not one to duck challenges. This match is an Eight Man Sudden Death Elimination Match where two teams of four mattle it out until only one team is left. That team will immediately battle in an elimination match until there is only one winner. That man will get the World title shot. VVE: This is a very interesting match because you are always aware that you might be facing your teammate in very short order. Teams will shatter as quickly as they begin. LM: Only one man can advance to face Brody Thunder...or whoever the champion is at that time. The first team consists of Lord Byron, Tony Starks, Subway Psycho, and Mark Destructo. Of course the question must be asked...wil Byron be fit to wrestle? VVE: Physically, Byron can go toe to toe with anyone...but mentally, I don't think he's up to it. LM: What about his teammates? VVE: These are all tough men but I have to give the nod on this side to Tony Starks. He has a new mean streak which could come in very handy in this kind of atmosphere. LM: We have some comments from Tony Starks... let's go to them now. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Tony Starks ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene: A darkened IIWF lockeroom. Tony Starks sits on a steel folding chair in front of his locker. His head, half covered by the familiar white towel, is looking down. The shot comes up on him and focuses on his head. While he is still looking down, he speaks in a voice that although calm, is brimming with intensity:] TS: When I was a child I fell into many of the traps that most youth fall into. When I was coming up, I saw cats walking on top of the world. Their faces obscured by the massive gold jewelery. They had it all...women, cars, money and people wanting to be just like them. Hell, that is all my life was based on in the beginning: money. I got that money by selling myself out...I would take dives in fights because I was getting paid. I wanted that gold so much, but remember what they say: you could lose your own soul. I saw the path I was walking down and one day I came to a point where I could not take it anymore. I made a decision...a decision that changed the course of my life forever. A decision that I have never regretted. See, I made a choice to not chase money. I made a choice to acknowledge who I am, what made me and what matters to me. I am not one to have little gimmicks, to kiss babies and to be a rhinestone and fireworks type of guy. My reality: me. A lot of the cats here are all about living a fantasy. When they strap on those boots and pull up the tights, they are a different person. When they are in the face of a camera and someone tells them to speak, they flow nothing but fables. That is the difference between me and them. What you see in the ring is exactly who I am. I don't put on a front...have an interview that is nothing but a lie. I killed my lie when I made that decision long ago. Why don't you kill yours? [Starks looks up to the camera, his half hidden eyes looking hollow.] Byron. Don't like you, but I got respect for you. It has gone down some since you play to the fans. Psycho, I do got respect for you. You and me have known each other a long time. Come from the same enviroment. Destructo? How did you get in a match like this? No matter. You are going to be the lamb. As much as I have feelings of dislike for my own team. I really don't like the other guys. Highlander, how many times does it take to break your nose? Once again, get in my face and you will cry. Hamlet, no need to speak on you. You have paid your dues. Shadoe, me and you rode the same train for a long time. No more though. Before, you had Derek to save you. Now, you are on your own. "To Excess", big man in a little pond. You want to know excess? You get in my face, look into my eyes and I will show you the excess of suffering. So, I am gonna help the cats on my team to beat the snot outta these other punks. Then, the bell will toll for each of you. I will be victorious. I said before that I don't really like gold too much. Well, when I get my shot at that sucker Brody Thunder. I will make an exception, I will wear your gold. And never let you forget who beat it from you... [Starks just looks into the camera. The shot closes in on his eyes. Fade back to Larry and Victoria.] LM: Tony Starks expressed the problem in this match. Who are your friends? Anybody? VVE: I would have to say no. Starks is teaming with a man with major psychological trauma recently, a man who has hardly been setting the ring on fire lately, and a man who has no track record in the IIWF. LM: These four are facing the team of Duncan Macbeth, Billy Shakespeare, "Savage" Shadoe Rage, and "To Excess" Rick Williams. Let's hear from Tim Dross with a report on Duncan Macbeth and follow with comments from Shadoe Rage and Rick Williams. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Duncan Macbeth ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Cut to an exterior shot of the IWF Coliseum in Portland, Oregon, where a large group of people are gathered outside the VIP entrance of the facility, chanting and holding signs in the air. Tim Dross is standing in front of the crowd, bundled up in a London Fog overcoat, and nods to the cameraman that he is ready to begin his segment as he raises a corded mic to speak.] TD: Hello wrestling fans, this is Tim Dross, outside the home of the IIWF, the Coliseum in Portland, Oregon. In the short time since Ring Wars IV there have been many developments within the federation, but possibly none so compelling as the saga unfolding between the Intercontinental Champion, "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley, and the number one contender to that title, the fiery Scotsman, Duncan Macbeth. In one of the most shocking and controversial decisions in the IIWF in recent memory, Chris Quigley retained his title at Ring Wars IV despite a ferocious challenge from Macbeth, who seemingly had the champion beaten before he himself was blindsided and rendered unconscious by Quigley's so-called "number one fan", Steve Manning, Jr. The chorus of outrage throughout the fan base of the IIWF in the wake of this match has been unprecedented, and the switchboard at IIWF Towers has been swamped with calls in recent days from Ring Wars viewers who called to express their disgust at the tactics of Manning and to send their support to the Scottish sensation, who has kept a fairly low profile in the days following Ring Wars. Sacks of cards and letters have also been flowing in to the front office, many of them addressed to President Dan Spreadbury, demanding a rematch between Quigley and Macbeth. Fans have also been gathering outside the Coliseum, hoping for a glimpse of Duncan Macbeth. Just a few minutes ago, their vigilance was rewarded. Let's go to the tape. [Cut to a similar shot of the crowd outside the Coliseum. The crowd goes wild as the familiar roar of a BMW 1200 motorcycle is heard in the distance, and the camera sweeps the crowd and pans across the parking lot of the Coliseum. We see the bike screech to a halt, and the rider quickly dismounts, pulling off his helmet and grabbing an equipment bag from one of the bike's saddlecases. A chant of "I - C - CHAMP! I - C - CHAMP! I - C - CHAMP!" rises from the crowd as Duncan Macbeth, his bag on his shoulder and helmet under one arm, slowly approaches the group. The normally gregarious Macbeth seems somewhat reticent as he passes through the throng on his way to the door, absently slapping hands and nodding with some embarrassment at the cheers and well-wishes of the fans, many of whom are holding up makeshift signs that read "MACBETH - THE _TRUE_ CHAMP", "QUIGLEY FEARS MACBETH", and "JUSTICE FOR DUNCAN", among others. Macbeth takes a moment to sign a few autographs, but his usual brassy demeanour seems to be tinted with a touch of melancholy, and finally, he waves to the group with a half-hearted grin and passes through the VIP entrance into the Coliseum as the crowd continues to chant and cheer. Cut back to Tim Dross outside the Coliseum.] TD: That was the scene here just moments ago, folks. Despite his controversial loss at Ring Wars, Duncan Macbeth's popularity here in the IIWF seems to be stronger than ever, while support for Chris Quigley has taken a sharp nosedive, despite his efforts to distance himself from the actions of his companion Manning. There have even been unsubstantiated reports of telephone harassment and even death threats against the Intercontinental Champion following Ring Wars. As yet, neither man has expressed a desire for a rematch, but in this reporter's opinion, if the burden of proof lies with anyone in this situation, it lies with "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley. Will he be content to just carry on as the Intercontinental Champion after his tainted victory over Duncan Macbeth, or will he put the title up again against the man who more and more people believe, but for Steve Manning, Jr., would today be the reigning Intercontinental champ? Only time will tell. Of course, these questions may be moot after tomorrow night's action at the Coliseum. Duncan Macbeth is one of the participants in that eight-man sudden-death elimination match, the winner of whom will get a shot at the IIWF World heavyweight title on December 13. You'll remember that it was the Scotsman who was the sole survivor in that twenty-man battle royal weeks ago that made him the number-one contender to Chris Quigley's IC title, and he has to be counted as one of the favourites in a match that includes the likes of Lord Byron and "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare. No matter what tomorrow night's outcome, though, you can be sure that Chris Quigley will not be far from the thoughts of one Duncan Macbeth, who is riding a groundswell of support in the IIWF unseen by this reporter in quite some time. In Portland, Oregon, this is Tim Dross for IIWF Countdown. Back to you, Larry. [The shot pulls out as the huge throng behind Dross cheers and mugs for the camera, holding up signs and waving red Macbeth tartan scarves. The group begins a raucous chant of "RE-MATCH! RE-MATCH! RE-MATCH!", as the shot eventually fades to black silence.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Savage" Shadoe Rage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene: A beautiful marble hall stretches out across the camera, its polished tiles in black and white. A small wading pool lies in the centre just at the foot of a raised throne. Shadoe Rage sits perched on his throne, alone, his head wrapped in a turban. He has a faintly bemused expression. He strokes his chin with claw-ringed fingers.] SR: Didn't I leave the Prophets of Rage to enjoy the pleasure of wrestling one man at a time? Well, it seems fitting that you force me into another tag-team match when the stakes are so high. And when I look at the names on the opposite end and the thrill of beating the other side is done I get to destroy all my teammates at the end. I have to thank you for this opportunity to deliver this anthem of destruction. I'm about to weave a tapestry of carnal delight. This is going to be so pleasant. This is going to be so wonderful. Lord Byron, the greatest technical wrestler blessed in the IIWF. Subway Psycho, the weirdest competitor to be seen. My own teammate Tony Starks the master of the kathe jime and finally, the biggest fraud ever to grace the sport of wrestling ... MARK DESTRUCTO!!!! I just warn everybody on my squad to stay the HELL out of the way. I'm out to end the legend of Destructo once and for all. The undefeatable Kingpin of the FWLI has finally decided to make a reappearance. All those clever FWLI cancers keep coming back. Destructo, Damage Inc. all those wrestlers who were kings when I had to toil for recognition. Well, I'm standing now and you're crawling. And now the Angel of Death is coming to wipe you out once and for all. I'm going to destroy you! Destructo, you will Die in Darkness! [Fade out] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "To Excess" Rick Williams ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene opens to an overhead view of the IIWF Coliseum, in Portland, Oregon. The piercing silence is broken only by the occasional sound of movement from a figure, who sits in the lower tier of seats, his identity unrecognizable. As the camera shot changes to closer, ground level view, the figure is unmistakable. Dressed in black jeans, and a blue shirt, which hangs loosely open, "To Excess" Rick Williams incessantly chews a stick of gum, to accompany a familiar arrogant grin. His legs resting on the seat in front, and his arms relaxed behind his head, Williams seems as composed as ever, as he begins to speak.] RW: So, this is it, huh? The 'Theatre of Dreams', itself... the IIWF Coliseum... the place where, tomorrow night, a legacy will be born. Ain't life just grand! [Williams pauses briefly to take a look at his new surroundings, seemingly attempting to familiarize himself with every aspect of the entire arena.] RW: It just seems ironic that a new chapter in the stories of the IIWF and "To Excess" begins in the same week that the story of a man, oft referred to as "_In_ Excess" comes to a close. Following the death of Mr. Hutchence, it seems only appropriate that the IIWF has opted to hold its very own "Strangest Party" -- That being an inventive, if somewhat ill-advised IIWF Saturday Night card. The very _idea_ of placing Rick Williams in a tag team match is nothing short of laughable. You see, "To Excess" doesn't tag with guys he doesn't trust, so I will _not_ be held responsible for anything I'm forced to tomorrow night. Am I supposed to trust Billy Shakespeare? Well, I _don't_. Am I supposed to trust Duncan MacBeth? Well, I _don't_. Am I supposed to trust Shadoe Rage? Yeah, you guessed it... I _don't_. I've been treated like an idiot for too long to accept it around _here_. The almighty Spreadbury may not be giving me any credit, but I'm gonna cut _him_, Shakespeare, MacBeth and Rage, a little slack. I'm gonna put my life in your hands, boys... Play with it, and as my own personal tribute to Michael Hutchence, you _will_be_ "elegantly wasted". [Williams spits the stick of gum very close to the camera, which invokes a slight chuckle. From his shirt pocket, he takes out another stick, which he almost immediately unwraps, before placing it in his mouth.] RW: But alas, this match does have its advantages. For, it gives me the opportunity to encounter men, such as Lord Byron and Subway Psycho for the first time... men who exemplify wrestling's problems... men who refuse to step aside when their time has passed. Well, after Byron catches a glimpse of the future on Saturday night, he'll wish he hadn't reneged on his agreement to leave the IIWF, all those months ago. [Williams removes his legs from the seat in front, and stands up, still relentlessly chewing that stick of gum. His expression, as arrogant as ever, he begins to walk through the rows of seats, towards the entranceway.] RW: In the words of the aforementioned and tragic Mr. Hutchence, Rick Williams is the "New Sensation". It doesn't matter to me if you're a couple of has-beens, whose only remaining value can be calculated by antique dealers, or a guy who begins his IIWF career at the same time as I do, or even a guy who hangs around with freaks like Richard Blue... because whatever it is, you're getting the same treatment. I'm fulfilling the prophecy, and nobody's stopping me from doing just that. [Williams steps over the guardrail, and proceeds towards the exit. Fade back to Larry and Victoria.] LM: What do you think about this team, Victoria? VVE: This one is surprisingly tough to call. Macbeth is a great wrestler who deserves another shot at Quigley but he seems to be focusing on the wrong goal this time out. Williams is far too unproven...he even went so far earlier this week as to say he didn't want the title shot. Shadoe hasn't proven himself as a singles competitor and he's a little obsessed with Destructo. LM: Who are you going to pick with this one? VVE: This is a very tough match to call, dut to the nature of the contest. I think Tony Starks has a great shot. I think Billy Shakespeare could be a surprise winner. However, I have to think that Duncan Macbeth proved that he has the ability to win the big title opportunities so I'm goin to go with him. LM: Next up we have the Winner Takes All World Unification Tag Team Match where the Harlequins take on Cold Spell to see who is truly the World Tag Champions. VVE: This match is long overdue. It's time to give the fans back the two top tag teams in the sport rather than the bastardized amalgamations we have been seeing. LM: We haven't heard from either of these two teams. They have both decided to keep thier thoughts to themselves and thier training under wraps. VVE: That could be a wise move. These two teams are as familiar with each other as any two teams could be. They are probably trying to eliminate that advantage. LM: Who will be the World Tag Champs when this is over? VVE: A very worthy team indeed, whoever wins. If I have to pick I'd go with the Harlequins. Tragedy has had a taste of the gold and I think he liked its flavour! LM: Cold Spell won't go without a fight, though! Onto the Tornado match! VVE: Yet another main event caliber match on a card that is full of them. We are going to see four tough men battle it out for some real bragging rights. We will see Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven, "Real Deal" Luke Steele, Highwayman, and Serge Annis. Any one of these men could win this match! LM: Let's hear from all four competitors! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: A rather luxuriously furnished hotel suit. On a large black leather couch lies the sleeping Nurse Heidi, still wearing an elegant evening dress. She is mumbling in her sleep and rolling around uneasy. Otto Verhoeven, wearing a perfectly fitting "Hugo Boss" pinstripe suit. He gently drapes a blanket over his fiancee. He looks at the camera, puts a finger on his lips a motions to another room. The hulking German closes the door behind them and sits down on a stool. He seems to be rather tired.] OV: [with a weak smile] Damned parties. Hours and hours of superfluous small talk and nerve-wrecking fools who love the sound of their own voice. Kind of like the IIWF, hm? [He runs a hand through his short hair.] OV: The issue of Lord Byron is over for me. I have confronted him, and I have left him behind, a wreck of a man, only the shadow of the brilliant athlete he has once been... [He points at a point behind the camera, which pans to the side to show the Golden Grapple award for Best Wrestler.] OV: ...only a faint, meaningless memory. [He sighs, and a brief expression of pain crosses his features. Then his head snaps back up.] OV: Now it are other things that are on my mind, other foes that I have to overcome. This Saturday, I will have to face an interesting challenge, a "Tornado Match". Four men, four top-notch athletes, clashing in a no holds barred confrontation, where only few rules apply. There is the Highwayman, Adam Smith. (Stifles a laugh) Do you still cling to that image, Smith? Do you still claim to be the avenging crusader of the past, resurrected to fight for the poor? (Shakes his head) Isn't it pathetic what some people do to get some attention? I pity you, Smith. A man with moderate skills, forever branded with a nickname which makes even children laugh out loud, haunted by a story too outrageous for one of your American comic books. Of course we shouldn't forget your wrestling abilities. Even the most insane or most foolish competitors in this sport can often reach quite a level of excellence in the ring, Requiem being a prime example. But not "the Highwayman". While the other former members of Genesis have all found a niche for themselves in the IIWF, have all had some success, the costume wearer has never impressed anybody in this promotion. He is a pragmatist, an opportunist, sometimes benefiting from the mistakes of his opponents or from outside interferance...but more often than not he is nothing but a victim, nothing but fodder for the predators...like me. Another man who will step into the ring with me is Luke Steele. I have faced him before and I have destroyed him before. Luke Steele may be a talented technical wrestler and an able high-flyer, but these talents are just not enough to stop me, not enough to slow down the German Juggernaut. He is too weak to be more than a nuisance in a match like that. It is pretty obvious that he will be squashed by the superior forces battling. [Slowly his arrogant smirk fades away and his face becomes more tense, his eyes glaring with barely contained fury.] Finally, Serge Annis. The psycho. The loose cannon. The master of hardcore brawling. The pyromaniac. The Lethal Protector. The Epitome of Evil. The "Creed-Slayer". So many attributes, so many things to consider about him. I take pride in the fact that it was seemingly _me_ who brought out all of this in him. After all, I dared him to put up a challenge in during the Genesis wars, and he sure did, regaining his infamous edge that had been dulled in the many months he was pummeled and hurt by preliminary talent in this federation. He was laughed at and ridiculed and his time as Requiem's lapdog may have been the low point of his career. Recently, he has flourished. His time seems to have come. The name Serge Annis again makes lesser men tremble with fear. His victory at Ringwars catapulted him up the rankings. Do _I_ look like I care? In my entire career I never stepped down from any challenge, never showed fear against any odds. This time is no different. Serge Annis' stint at the top of the IIWF has been short so far, and sooner or later everyone has to pay the price for their past wrongs. Serge's trial will be on Saturday. I nearly took him apart all of those weeks ago if it hadn't been for the rest of Genesis trying to weaken me before Midsummer Madness. I am going to make you feel all the pain I had to endure during all those gang attacks. I am going to show you why I am the most dangerous man in the IIWF. I am going to drag your sorry carcass into the Slaughterhouse. Now get out of here before Heidi wakes up. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Real Deal" Luke Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade up to the living room area of a luxurious hotel room, the kind you'd see in Las Vegas, or New York City. In the background we can see a massive TV set, approximately 50' across. On the TV, the footage of the Ring Wars IV Free For All four corners match is playing. Onscreen, Kevin Christiansen and Luke Steele are in the ring, and from behind Luke drills Kevin with a clothesline. A voice suddenly rings out.] Voice: That's the beginning of the end, baby dolls. [Luke Steele, clad in a white terrycloth hotel robe, emerges from the master bedroom, carrying a newspaper dated as November 8th, 1997. The L.A. Times screams the banner headline "Colisseum Invaded by Mat Wars! Complete details inside!". Luke holds it up for the camera, and begins to read from an article inside.] LS: [quoting from the paper] "On the countdown show broadcast live to the world, the crowd was thrilled at the spectacle of four men involved in an event known as a four corners match. Emerging victorious was "The Real Deal" Luke Steele, who like a classic Shakespearean villain, used one opponent to attack another, and then stabbed a third in the back." I find that a little insulting- Shakespearean? What the hell does Billy Shakespeare have to do with anything? [keeps reading] "Steele convinced another man by the name of Kevin Christiansen that he was only looking out for his best interests, and then went on to attack the man with his back turned. He ended up teaming with a third man, Dexter St. Croix, and scored the win after pinning Dex, who was blindsided by the final man in the contest, Alex Rio." [Luke drops the newspaper, and sinks down into the black leather couch, facing the camera.] LS: Another pay per view, and this time Luke Steele comes out on the winning end. It's aboud damn time. Survivors match, Luke gets pinned. Coronation Clash, Luke gets screwed by Rogers. Birthday Bash, Luke doesn't even get on the card. Midsummer Massacre, Luke finally wises up and walks out on his team captain. Well much like I've said in the past, I've had it. And now that I have, Luke Steele gets a check mark in the win column. Dex, I hardly knew ya. As for you, Cadaver, better luck next time. And now, on to better things, namely the future. [He grins, and reaches behind the couch, pulling up the award statuette that he won at the Golden Grapples ceremony a week earlier.] LS: This little number may not be much to be proud of, but dammit, at least now I'm getting some recognition. Most nicknames, eh? I'm sure Roberts had nothing to do with that one. As you can see by my surroundings, the IIWF pays it's winners well. I've been on the other end of that situation though, and let me say, it's not pretty. My very first match after Ring Wars IV? Another bloody four corners match. This time though, it's very different. Three other men, men with incredible talent. No dancing, no singing, and certainly not the "best ass of the IIWF". Just raw power, mean, and legendary reputations. For once, I am humbled to be in the presence of these men. However, I also have the knowledge that I've beaten at least one of them. Highwayman, I'm reminded of something a famous liar said recently: "Second verse, same as the first... A little bit rowdier, a whole lot worse!" Remember the ESWP TV Title? Well it'll be like that for you, but a whole lot worse. And Otto, I still owe you from the LWC. I felt the Slaughterslam once, I'll be damned sure not to feel it again. Then of course, we have the Epitome of Evil. The UWF's Lethal Protector. That can't be much of an organization, to have him as the most powerful force up there. Annis, you're a former World Champion, but I owe you for that attack you put upon me, just as I was about to get my hands on Scott "the Flop" Rogers. [Luke pauses for a moment, then looks at the camera, dead serious.] LS: Saturday Night, I continue to make my mark on the IIWF. And with any luck, I'll be back here on Sunday, instead of some roach infested dive that the Soundbite calls the 'happiest place on earth'. Now, I also have to comment on this travesty of a cruiserweight division. It caused my pal Dex so many headaches that he chucked it and left. With Tim Turner as champion, I don't blame him. Then you have Ronnie Paris, the primo whiner of the IIWF. He's got a nice wife though, lemme tell ya. And now the Supreme God, Taxedermy Musashi comes back. Wouldn't mind White Flight now, would you Paris? Finally, my buds, the Machines. Weren't you listening, Spreadbury? They want a title shot. They deserve a title shot. So in your infinite wisdom, you stick them in a four way match. What is it with you and four-ways, Dan? Paul and Simon will take care of all these pretender teams, and then mop the floor with both the Harle-Spell and Cold Quins, or whatever kinky combination they're into this week. My time is up, so Saturday Night I'll be out for blood. [Start to fade down to black. Just before the segment ends, we can hear Luke shout "Gaining on ya Chrissie! Check the rankings!" Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Highwayman ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene: a dark and seedy hotel room, diffused iridescent light from a neon sign flickers through the torn curtains, producing a red strobe effect that bathes the room with the sickening colour of a blood bath. The heavy beat of a nearby discotheque seeks to drown out the sound of the room’s inhabitants, one hidden under a dirty blanket breathes steadily, suggesting that they are in a deep sleep. The other sits naked on the bed, chin resting upon knees that are hugged into the chest. The camera slowly zooms into the forlorn face to reveal the man known as “Highwayman”; Adam Smith. With a deep sigh, he begins to speak in a quiet voice:] AS: Ring Wars has come and gone. I got the winning share of the purse, but at what cost... [Adam scratches his nose on his forearm, before continuing.] AS: ...I lost my dignity at the hands of Scott Rogers... I lost the nearest thing I had to a friend when Requiem left ...and I was forced to put the final nail in the coffin of the stable I founded: GENESIS. [The last word is spoken with such venom that the sleeping figure is briefly disturbed. Adam waits a moment before continuing in a quieter voice:] AS: I found it ironic that the very people that fought so hard to stunt Genesis’ growth, also voted it the best stable of the year and awarded it one half of the best feud of the year too! [With a visible effort, Adam restrains the rising temper that threatens to spill over. He takes a few deep breaths, which does little to abate the rising anger, before continuing:] AS: You are nothing but a pack of bloody hypocrites! You pushed Nightwing against me then embarrassed him into leaving, you badgered Requiem out of the IIWF and you massed together to destroy my stable! You then have the bare-faced audacity to give me two, or should that be three, tin-plated awards for my efforts! [Again he has to forcibly lower his voice, else wake the sleeping figure:] AS: Well girls, you’ve lit a fire.. and a great many of you will be burnt before this one is extinguished. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Serge Annis ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene fades in from blackness. A silhouette of a church can be seen against the a full moon shining high in the Earth's atmosphere. Darkness surronds the moon and church. Atop the chapel is an iron cross that's shape reflects the moon's light. The camera moves forwards, towards and into the church. As the large wooden door is pushed open, a loud creaking sound fills the church. It is a small church on the inside. One room. With a spiral stairwell going up, in the corner. There are old wooden chairs scattered across the floor, either broken or tipped over. Books, bibles and song books are littered across the dusty floor. The lighting inside this church is very poor, and these images can barely be made out. The camera pans upwards, down the isle of wrecked chairs. A step up, and a carpet is now visible. It too is littered with garbage, books and dust. A crackling sound can be heard. A shadow now steps into the only light seen. The camera follows the shadow, until it meets the dusty grey wall, where the shadow's body and head are cast upon. The crackling continues as light from a fire flickers in the darkness.] Voice: Ring Wars IV was a landmark in my carrer. I left the ring visibly scarred. Physically wounded. And in utter and supreme victory. [The camera pans back down, and follows the shadow to it's origin. Where a preacher's podium is knocked over, kneels a monstrous frame of a man, whom sits in front of a small fire. The camera only shows his back.] VO: As I went backstage, I held my hand up high. Until I realized, I could no longer hold up my arm. The pain was too much. As they pulled the strands of barbed wire from my crimson coated flesh, I could not help but grin. [The figure turns his head to the camera and is revealed to be Serge Annis. Annis' face does not look very good. Across his adams' apple is a three inch scar, fresh. Annis has several scars on his forehead, each measuring two centimeters, no more, no less. Under Annis' left eye as always is a scar from when he cut himself with a knife. Some swelling can be seen around his eye, but seems to be near gone. Annis gives the camera a cold stare.] SA: The price of victory. It is such a sweet price to pay. As the old saying goes... a tooth for a tooth, an eye for an... well Creed, I think you may _see_ what I mean... when the cold wire was wrapped around my flesh... penetrating it's way in. I was somewhere, that I have not been in a long... -long- time... I was home. Many men walk into that ring. Claim it to be their house of pain. Their home. It wasn't the ring that was my home... it was the sheer brutality and violence of the match inside that ring. That is what makes up the darkness inside Serge Annis. I'm not possesed by a three hundred year old warrior. I am not the grim reaper. But what I am... is a man haunted by his past... by his fears... and by his hatred. I've been alive for twenty eight years... and suffered every moment. But I've put to rest the fears... and I've escaped my past. Now the only thing I have to live on... ...is hatred. [Annis steps up from the fire. He begins to walk over to the corner that has the old, rusty round stair-well. His left forearm brushes by the camera revealing another fresh scar, and a black taped wrist. Annis kicks over a chair in his way.] SA: For a year now. I have made my way through the IIWF. I started out with a name. Some shape of respect. Then... soon after, Serge Annis merely stood for an over-rated hack, whom could not cut it in the IIWF. [Annis kicks down some poorly nailed boards, blocking the stairs. He begins to ascend the stair case... the camera follows from a distance as it pans up, revealing a pair of black pants and boots allong with a black sleeveless shirt.] SA: Along came Genesis. As I nearly walked out the doors of the IIWF, a voice had called me back... called back to the IIWF... to finally claim a victory. To finally be a name... to finally win respect. [Annis gets to the top of the stairs. He rams his shoulder into a door that is blocking his path. The moldy old wood easily shatters, and Annis steps through the frame into the cool darkness of the night.] SA: The Requiem... one of the few people whom I have ever trusted... brought me into Genesis. He brought me into the light, from which I had hid from for so long... But in the light, I was outshadowed by that of Requiem... and soon Cold Spell too. In the end, myself, Scott Rogers and Highwayman were the ones that were punished for Requiem's deeds. Amidst the punishment though, I arose to the occasion. I prevailed against the opposition thrown at me... [The camera steps through the door way to reveal Annis standing in the middle of the roof now... staring out into the darkness. A thick forrest surronds the church, with the exception of a small dirt road and parking lot.] SA: Ring Wars IV marked several occasions... The death of Requiem. Requiem had finally been driven from the very place in which he ruled over once before. Un-fairly? Perhaps... what difference would the Epitome make? [Annis turns his back to the camera now, as he faces the ten foot cross on the edge of the building. The light from the moon engulfs Serge and only his shape, along with the cross can really be made out. Some rain drops begin to fall from the sky.] The Red Gloved Rookie? Fell. I rose out of the wire... arm raised high, taking a step into the future of the IIWF. Creed.. you did the impossible. After the beating I gave you... you came back and gave me one, twice as worse... Creed... I respect you. There is always a place for you in the IIWF... provided, it is behind the Epitome of Evil. [Annis walks towards the cross.] SA: And finally... the prominence of several men... was shattered. Men like Brody Thunder. Men like James and Claw. The Butcher... [Annis reaches the cross and steps up to it, and swings around to it's other side. Annis rests his head on one end of the cross, staring deeply into the camera.] SA: Men like this, shaped the federation. But one man... one man called the shots. He ruled over these men, as the true 'epitome' in our sport. Some despised this man... others loved him. [Annis swings back around, and leans against the cross. Annis rests his hands on the extensions, and hangs his head. Annis joins the cross in shape. Annis' face is not very visisble as his head hangs down... rain drops are heard hitting the dried leaves still left on the trees they cling to. The rain softly hits the roof of this old church. Annis speaks...] SA: A man... that set the standard in the IIWF... who wouldn't let other people rise above... who wouldn't let others ascend to greatness. A man that held me back for almost a year... one man... an outlaw... one man. [Thunder and lightning suddenly strikes! As the lightning flashes its short tenure of light, Annis raises his head up to the sky and shouts for all within earshot to hear...] SA: WHO'S THE DAMN MAN NOW!! [The camera slowly pans back, and begins to fade, as Annis rests his head once again, spread out in the shape of the cross... fade back to Larry and Victoria.] LM: All four men are very impressive. How can you make a choice? VVE: Two words... Serge Annis. He has impressed me more and more since leaving Genesis. Serge Annis is on a roll and no one can stop him. LM: That brings us to the Returnees vs. Newcomers match. Returning IIWF superstars, Steve "the Fury" Kowalski, "Enigma" Takezo Musashi, and Deathbringer will face some new faces in the federation, Christopher Stonebreaker, Charles Scheffield, and a mystery partner. VVE: I feel sorry for the new guys. This won't even be close. LM: Let's hear from some of the participants. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Steve "the Fury" Kowalski ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The rush of traffic flies past, horns honking and tire screeching. Somewhere on the Garden State Parkway, probably between exits 108 and 107, sits a man and his motorcycle. Steve "The Fury" Kowalski sits, side saddle, on the rear of his Harley Soft Tail Springer. Even amid all of the onrushing vehicles, The New Jersey Nightmare can be heard.] SK: Brody, Brody, Brody. Yer spiel's gettin' old, baldy. [In a mock Thunder voice] 'Cept _this_ time... ya jumped the wrong gent, boy. [Normal again] I gotta think that I'd whacked the right cowpoker. Hell... Ya were laid out just like I usually lay ya out. Ya've always been the right guy to jump, Brody. I mean...[BLEEP]! Yer the champ! Everybody jumps the champ, chump. [Kowalski wheels around, throwing his feet up an the handle bars and leaning against the median.] SK: Don't get me wrong, numbnuts. I ain't gonna sit here and complain that ya tricked me. I wuz gonna get ya the next show anyways, 'cept ya beat me to it. Ha ha! Ya get a thumbs up fer tryin' to get the rid of the baddest man in wrestlin'. Yeah, me. Who'd ya think I wuz yappin' about... Serging Anus? I don't think so. I guess ya supposed I wuz gonna say somethin' like... that belt is mine! No...not yet. No, Danny didn't promise me a shot, but I'm sure to get one. Ya earned it, first. Now, I'm gonna earn it from ya. [Kowalski adjusts his gloves and kick starts his bike.] SK: Like I said before, this fed's gone soft. It needs a strong leader..._I_ am that guy! I'll be settin' examples on Saturday night, ya should come and watch. I got'sta squash some jerk water momos... I don't know who the [BLEEP] they are, but....does it really matter. I'm going tru'em like a hot knife thru butter. So, Brody...Annis...Quigley... Christiansen.... Sampson.... Psycho... an' the rest of ya weak kneed tough guy wannabees, when ya feel head explode in pain... that's jus' me. The next big thing...is about to happen! [Fade out to the sound of the motorcycle pulling away.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Enigma" Takezo Musashi ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: A darkened, run-down looking dojo, well worn over many years from the constant sweat of countless boxers, wrestlers and martial artists. The dojo's design is functional rather than aesthetic, and the bare bones training equipment is devoid of any expensive, high tech gimmickery. The walls are adorned with innumerable, overlapping fight night posters, yellowed and peeling with age, the most prominent of which covers almost the entire back wall, depicting a fierce looking italian american boxer face to face with a sleek, confident looking african american boxer. The faded type reads: "Sugar Ray Robinson vrs. Jake LaMotta. Oct 2. Madison Square Gardens." The dojo's only illumination is provided by a slat high up on the back wall, from which a ray of sunlight creeps into the room and highlights dust motes swirling through the air. Behind the shaft of light, back in the shadows, can be be dimly made out a silhouetted figure in a constant state of motion. His face is obscured, but as the figure dances in and out of light, his body is seen to be toned and supple... The figure flips, cartwheels and pirouettes around the room like a deadly ballet dancer, shadow fighting with unseen assilants, ducking invisible blows, leaping from heavy bag to speed bag to wooden mannequin, dealing out lightning strikes - kicks, chops and punches - to each one in turn. Finally, the blur of motion becomes static, and done with his work-out, the unidentified athlete begins towelling himself down. As he steps through the shaft of light towards the camera, the illumination reveals the face of the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi, his expression one of reverence.] TM: Cast your glance around me - this place is steeped in history, and the spirits of many greater and lesser warriors dance between these walls. Men who had made their calling one of danger and war - courageous and disciplined men - once came here to hone their bodies and their skills until they became deadly fighting machines. The essence of their valour, their triumphs and defeats and all that is the glory and honour of fighting men, still dwells in these walls... It is in those heavy bags, that ring... pervading the very air... It has been many years since any man has stepped in this hallowed hall. They have all moved on, lost in the excess that fame and success breeds, or perishing in their own obscurity. It is a relic of an age that has long departed... forgotten by all but the ghosts of those who stood between these walls and glimpsed their dream of glory. The electricity doesn't even work in here anymore... ...It is a place that suits the Enigma well. [The camera slowly closes in on the face of the Enigma, blotting out the surroundings, and his expression grows more intense.] TM: It is here, alone and forgotten, that I have been training for my comeback. It is here, amidst the grand tradition of gladiators past, that I hope to find again the raging fire that drives the heart of the challenger; to cut away all of the bloated hype and glamour pervading our sport, and find the raw essence of courage and determination that beats in the heart of a champion... For tomorrow on IIWF Saturday night, the Enigma steps back into the ring. It is only then, when all of the gilden words have faded to insignificance, that I shall redeem myself in my own eyes. It is only then, that my newfound strength and spirit will be extended to their full in blood-and-guts battle... It is something I have anticipated for some time now... [The camera pulls back out and Musashi's exression becomes more animated, losing some of its gravity.] TM: Three times, the Enigma will strike on Saturday night. First, the Cruiserweight clash, and an the opportunity to measure myself against my peers, both those from my past career and the acrobats of the future. I have watched this new breed of Cruiserweights in action from afar, and now I am eager to battle them in the flesh. This Derek Mota, the inheritor of my crown - he has the courage and tenacity of men thrice his size - it will do both of us an honour to pit the master against the upstart... The nature of this match will be chaos, and into it the Enigma will fly with his old guise of violence and recklessness. There will be no place for measured strategy or honourable sportsmanship; I will withold no punishment and grant no mercy, and I expect the same in return. Second strike, the Returnees vrs. Newcomers match. Steve Kowalski, Deathbringer, we all have something to prove in this battle, and I know you will both bring the same intensity and strength of purpose to the fight as I. Deathbringer, our pasts have been storied in the IIWF, yet somehow, our paths have never entwined. Your soul has wandered over many black planes, and your mind has pondered many dark and twisted things - as has my own. Tomorrow night, at least for one brief match, we shall stand as brothers. Steve Kowalski, you are a man who cares nothing of honour or spirit, but in the tortured anger of your soul, and the sickened depths of your mind, is the desire for greatness in conflict. Perhaps we are not so different as our surfaces are percieved to be... Of our opponents, I know little. Christopher Stonebreaker, Charles Schleffield, this man of... `enigma' [Musashi smiles faintly] You have at least as much to prove as us, your enemies. To shine before all of the people, with a victory over a trio of the IIWF's most prestigious athletes, would grant you an honour of great magnitude. You are hungry to grab the spotlight, and I look forward to combating that intensity... and, overcoming it. And what of the third strike? Ronnie Paris... the wrath of the Enigma is ever in your wake... [Takezo Musashi nods to the camera, turns away, and slips back into the shadows.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Deathbringer ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: A darkened room. Three large monitors have been set up at the rear wall, in front of which stands a huge chair. The left monitor begins to show scenes from the Casket-Match between Deathbringer and Otto Verhoeven. The scene freezes as Deathbringer delivers a mighty blow against the Butcher's forehead, which sends him down to the mat. Now the right monitor begins to show scenes from the Master Of Darkness matchup between Requiem and Deathbringer. The scene freezes again, as Requiem is grabbed by the throat and chokeslammed down to the mat. The chair begins to turn around very slowly and it becomes apparent, that Deathbringer himself is sitting on this wooden throne. He is wearing the new ring attire in which he made his return at Ring Wars III. After a few seconds of silence, the Dark Destroyer begins to speak in his low, growling voice] DB: Welcome back, mortals, welcome to another edition of Deathbringer's "Words of Wisdom"... [Deathbringer's piercing red eyes almost burn a hole into the camera before he continues to speak] DB: Why did I return to this league, why did I return to the IIWF you might wonder. Well, the reason lies right behind me. [Deathbringer points towards the monitors behind his head. At the same moment the Blind Guardian enters the screen from the right and turns towards the camera.] BG: What you see right there is the Deathbringer that everyone loved to see wrestle, what you see right there is the Deathbringer that used to cause havoc in the rings, what you see right there is the Deathbringer that once ruled this league... But first of all this is the _real_ Deathbringer. Everything you need to know about him can be found out by just watching these scenes. Yes, by looking at all those outstanding encounters featuring the Dark Destroyer against other IIWF wrestlers you can learn more about the Reaper himself than you could by reading the "Handbook of the Modern Coroner". And you might ask whomever you like, no matter whether he claims to fear Death himself or not: If he has faced Deathbringer within the squared circle, he had to admit that there are few tougher opponents out there in the world of wrestling today, if any. [The Blind Guardian makes a few steps to the left, passes by Deathbringer, and comes to a halt on the other side of the wooden throne] BG: But there have always been those who thought they could cheat Death himself... [The two monitors come back to live, but now they show quite different scenes than before. The left monitor shows the Outlaw beating down Deathbringer and the following upset at ring side, featuring most of the IIWF wrestlers of that time. The right monitor shows the vicious attack on Deathbringer by the Genesis members who are battering down the Dark Destroyer with fire extinguishers. The scenes freeze again] BG: Wouldn't you get sick and tired of all this blindsiding, of all this cheating? Wouldn't you just turn away and leave such a league? Deathbringer didn't. He just adapted to the style of his opponents. And he was ordered to stop it. So he did. You see, Deathbringer didn't leave this league because he wanted to, he just did it because he had to... But now he is back. DB: Yes, I am back, and I am here to, once again, rule supreme in this league. Requiem has already paid for what he did to me, and I will make sure that the other one's will pay their bills as well. But first of all I have to deal with that bunch of newcomers in just a few hours. And I want to warn you, just in case that you never saw me in action before. Believe me that I'm more than capable of handling all of you on my own. And if I look at the names of my partners tomorrow night... well, "newcomers"... prepare to meet your maker! [The camera zooms in to the monitor in the middle which now shows scenes from Deathbringer's last matchup before Ring Wars III. Deathbringer has just chokeslammed Tonnage and continues to chokeslam everyone that is standing within the squared circle, no matter whether he's his partner, opponent or just an official. The scene fades with the original comment from Tim Dross:] TD: Oh my god! Deathbringer is chokeslamming everyone! [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Charles Scheffield ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Charles Scheffield can be seen reclining in a plush leather chair wearing a blue satin bathrobe with the initials "CS" monogrammed on the left side. His legs are propped up on a plush foot rest and it can be seen he is only wearing slippers. A nice warm fire can be seen burning in the background along with the rest of the richly decorated room. Scheffield is definitely enjoying his relaxation as he takes in a deep breath. The look on his face is one of contentment... as if he has not a care in the world, however, his eyes tell you that he is definitely thinking of something devious as always. His mind never seems to stop it's work.] CS: Welcome to my home. It isn't much, but I know it is more than many of you other wrestlers of the IIWF shall ever know. I really couldn't care less, however, since most of you deserve it. Only the people who work hard or those who are born into it should be allowed to enjoy this lifestyle. I happen to be both a man who was born into it and worked for yet more. Men get what they deserve, and no man could be more deserving of what I have gotten than myself. [Scheffield smiles a bit arrogantly at his remark.] You see, I am used to power. It has always been monetary power. Now things will change greatly for me as I step into the ring on IIWF Saturday Night. I will show that I can channel the power that I have used to protect my fortune can now be used to propel me to victory in real combat. This is called intellectual prowess. I possess this and it can be very deadly. I have learned how this can be used to my advantage in a wrestling match. Outsmarting an opponent is far more valuable than any amount of physical strength one may have. [Scheffield pauses.] Now I must address my opponents on Saturday. I realize that you must be thinking to yourselves that you are stepping in the ring with people who do not know a thing about what to do in that ring. I can assure you that you are wrong if you believe that. I am not going to go in there and act like I have the world in the palm of my hand. I intend to prove that to you, win or lose. You really should not take us lightly if you have that intention. All three of you, Steve Kowalski, Enigma, and Deathbringer have left this federation before... hence the name returnees vs. newcomers. What made you leave? If you left because things went a little awry and out of hand... I suggest you leave again. There are lessons to be learned in this world and one happens to be that once you leave something it is normally best left. In other words you should never return once you leave in many cases. I do not know the details on your departure, but if it is anything like that I believe that niether of you should have ever come back. Enigma, out of all my opponents on Saturday, you are the only one who even made light to the fact. I figure you are probably the one who will give me and Stonebreaker the most trouble. Do not think for a moment I will underestimate you. I am going to do what it takes to pull of this victory and I will not let the light at the end of the tunnel distract me. That will simply be my goal. As long as I do my best there will be no disgrace in defeat. On the other hand, you should ask yourself if you can handle a loss yourself. Sometimes the choice on wheather you win or lose is not even in your own hands. If the night goes the way I plan, the decision will be soley in my hands. I will have the option of ending the match whenever I so desire and in any way I desire. It is a lofty goal, but I have the will to succeed. Christopher Stonebreaker, I like your attitude. I can see that you will definitely be a great asset on our team. I believe we have what it takes to take down the competition. Afterwards I believe we shall go on our seperate ways, but either way we should not forget this match win or lose. This will be a defining moment in our careers in the IIWF. Now, I am one of the people who has no idea who you are, but one thing is for sure, as long as we work together we will not be conquered. We may be new to these parts, but we definitely have the will of champions. You do not see us backing down from this task ahead of us... [smirks] so that can only mean there will be a fight. The team that wants this more shall win, and I can guarantee that myself and Stonebreaker are looking quite unbeatable at the moment. If you want to prove us wrong, then do it now or _forever_ hold your peace. That is all. [Scheffield turns the chair away from the camera so that only the back of the chair can be seen. Fade back to Larry and Victoria.] LM: You don't think the newcomers have any chance at all? VVE: None. I'll admit that I like Scheffield's style but there is no way that any three rookies can beat people like Kowalski, Musashi, and Deathbringer. It's just not going to happen. LM: Next we have the Ring Wars Winners vs. Losers Match. VVE: The very title should be enough to inspire the "losers" to victory. LM: Scott Rogers, "The Brat" Bradley Reed, and Ike Sampson represent the winning faction while the other side is represented by Ronnie Paris, Derek Mota, and Kevin Christiansen. Let's hear from some of the combatants. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Scott "the Fop" Rogers ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Scott "The Fop" Rogers is seated on a throne-like seat before a backdrop emblazened with the words "The Fop and Moxy" along with mug-shots of the two individuals pulling ridiculous faces. Rogers is dressed in a bright blue suit along with a maroon shirt. He's wearing blue shades and holding his "Best Dressed" Grapple Award. Larry Morton is seated adjacent to Rogers, on a more conventional easy chair.] LM: Fans, this may seem hard to believe, but this is indeed the IIWF Interview Area. It's been specially redesigned for this interview with the man who won four awards at this year's Golden Grapples held in the Meydenbauer Center in Seattle, Washington just last week. He is, of course, Scott "The Fop" Rogers. SR: Yes he is. LM: Scott, let's discuss first Ring Wars IV. SR: Yes, let's! [Larry looks at Scott shiftily.] LM: The match was signed. You were to meet Adam Smith one-on-one to finally settle your differences... and then you decided to add both Richard Blue and Dakota Bundy to the equation simply to humiliate both Smith and Bundy. SR: Yeah. LM: And to align yourself with Richard "Moxy" Blue, a man the fans loved, but now they don't seem so sure. SR: And what the hell do you want me to do about it? LM: Well... nothing, I'm just stating the facts. SR: So why am I even here? You wanna talk "facts" then get yourself a segment on one of the shows and do it. Don't waste _my_ interview time with this crap. LM: But it's all relevant to you! [There's an uneasy silence. Rogers then starts humming "Blue Moon." Morton seems to lose his concentration.] LM: Scott. Please. SR: Huh? LM: That's slightly distracting.... [Rogers stops abruptly and starts grinning. Morton looks on in surprise.] LM: So you don't want to defend your actions at Ring Wars IV then? SR: There's nothin' to defend, Morton. Smith had to pay, and did. So did Bundy and Malone. LM: Why? What did those two do? SR: Nothin' Morton. I just don't like ugly people. I told you before, ugliness is like a virus. If you're around people with it, you're gonna pick it up. LM: That's nonsensical! Surely the same goes for.. erm, I don't know.. erm, attractiveness...? [Rogers' face suddenly turns white and he starts to sweat, breathing heavily and quickly.] SR: No, Morton. We're a select few and the ugly brigade wanna wipe us out. And they do that by spreading their ugly germs. And there's nothing we can do about it. Everyone's out to get us, Morton. Everyone! [Rogers starts pulling at his hair, and shouting. He gets out of his throne.] SR: YOU, Morton. It's YOU. You started all this. [Rogers sits back down and lowers his head. Morton tries to console him. He looks off-set and signals for help... Rogers lifts his head up and grins at Morton. The IIWF Doctor arrives on set. He takes Rogers' shades off.] SR: Get your hands off me, Doc... [Rogers looks at the Doctor in disgust and pushes him away. Morton looks at the Doctor and shrugs his shoulders.] LM: What _was_ that Scott? Some bizarre act? SR: No, Morton. Yeah, it was. LM: Hmmmm. So then, moving on, if we can. Why choose Moxy to be the man to help you? SR: Moxy can teach me all I need to know to perfect my ring style, Morton. And I can do the same for him. LM: Excuse me for saying so, but many of the "stalwarts" out there view you as simply a muscle man with a few power moves... SR: Like I said, I need Rick to help me perfect my game. LM: But, and this is their opinion, not necessarily mine, [Rogers raises an eyebrow] it would take forever and a day to teach you to become, for example, as technically capable as Lord Byron. SR: I don't wanna be "technically capable," Morton. "Technically capable" wrestlers don't win matches. Power wins matches. Like Verhoeven showed at Ring Wars IV. I've said it over and over, Morton, I don't _care_ if I can't do an octopus hold. Rick ain't teaching me that. But I ain't giving anything away, Morton. You'll just have to wait and see. LM: I'm sure I will, and I look forward to it. So where do you see your future going with Moxy? Will you be teaming with him? Purely singles? What? SR: Ease up on the questions, Morton... _please_. Yeah, we'll tag, yeah we'll go singles. And yeah we'll win some belts. LM: I didn't actually ask you that... SR: Okay, forget I said it then... [Rogers shrugs his shoulders and grins.] LM: No no, that's fine. I guess you're looking to add some more gold to your trophy cabinet after winning those four Grapples then, right?! SR: This is the one that means the most, Morton. [Rogers holds up his Best Dressed award.] SR: That's why they call me the Fop, Morton. LM: Indeed. Of course, you also won the award for Best Feud and Best Stable, with both, as we know, more down to the teamwork of Genesis than your individual excellence and, finally, you won.... SR: ...yeah, you _may_ be right, Morton, but I'll let you into a little secret. Come here. [Rogers beckons Morton over and he whispers into his ear.] LM: You _can't_ say that, Scott. SR: That's why I whispered it, Morton...! LM: And as I was about to say, you also won the award for Best Job.... SR: ...yeah, as I was saying, Morton, Rick Blue's a genius. The man's got nearly as much style as I do. He's only known me two weeks, but already the man's got that little bit extra. The women are stopping him in the street you know. Doing stuff for him I never even had them do for me! Yeah, one chick actually took his pan... [Morton looks at the camera and motions the interview's over. Fade.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ike Sampson ----------------------------------------------------------------------- [SCENE: The Sampson family home in Minneapolis. Snow is piled high around the yard, and several young kids run around, engaged in a game of football. Ike Sampson sits in the front porch swing, getnly swaying back and forth. He is wearing khakis, a nice sweater, and sunglasses. He rubs his jawline slowly as he speaks. . .] IKE: Happy Turkey Day, Double Eye. A beautiful day, here at my Mama's house. . .whole family's here. Aunts, uncles, cousins. . .Jackie's inside. . .took time out of his busy schedule to "bless" us with his presence. A day of family. A day of rest. A day of thanks. So what's the Big Dog thankful for?!? Lots of things. It's been a good year for me. A year ago, I was slogging it out in the independents, going nowhere. Now, here I am, in the greatest wrestling organization in the world--on the verge of greatness. Damn right I'm thankful for that. Damn right. [Ike gets up off the swing, and walks down the front steps, stopping to watch his young relatives' game of football.] I'm thankful for my fans. All my fans that have stuck with me, that have proven to be all the family I've got when I'm out on the road--they've shown me that's all it takes. They're gonna carry me to the top. What else?!? I'm thankful that Tony Starks woke me up. Here I was, cruising along, thinking I was on top of the world--'til he brought me crashing back down. Opened my eyes to a whole new world--a world of pain, a world of violence. A world where champions are bred. I kinda like it here... but there's one small problem. We're not finished, Starkey. We got a score to settle... whaddya say?!? Once more to settle the score?!? [An errant pass from the game lands at Ike's feet. He picks up the ball, and tosses it back to the boys. We see that a few of them are wearing wrestling t-shirts under their jackets, among them a CREED ARMY shirt and a JACK SAMPSON: FEEL THE THUNDER shirt. Ike continues his stroll across the yard.] And "The Cavalier" Kevin Christiansen... the IIWF's knight in shining armor. You'd think I was thankful that he saved my ass two weeks ago at Ring Wars Four... but I ain't. In fact, I'm kinda pissed off about it. Kevin, you crossed the line. I don't need your help, and I don't need you sticking your nose in my business. This Starks business is something I need to finish on my own, and you ruined that for me. And that ain't cool. Cavalier... _You_ had better be thankful that I'm a nice guy. [Ike stops, and takes a step towards the camera, intimidatingly.] I told Starks this was about being a man. About being my _own_ man. He was willing to play by those rules. But you come in, ruin the whole damn thing. Not quite sure what I think about that yet. But I get the feeling that I'll figure it all out by that tag match Saturday night. Five top superstars in that one with me--including the Cavalier. Score a win there -- that ought to open the eyes of the Championship Committee. Eyes on the prize... See ya in Portland. [Fade.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ronnie Paris ----------------------------------------------------------------------- [As the tape begins rolling, we see a zoomed in view of a beautiful half moon. There seem to be no clouds in sight as the shot slowly pans back to reveal more and more of the night sky. Star after star, planet after planet twinkles into view with no distortion, the brightest colours of the cosmos shining through to meet the eyes of... Ronnie Paris. The Texan is sitting in the cab of a pick-up truck, the make undistinguishable in the weak light of the moon. He seems almost oblivious to the camera... to the world, as he stares into the heavens with obvious respect and interest. Suddenly, without the tiniest motion, he begins to speak in a calm voice.] RP: I've always loved the stars. The best Christmas gift I ever got was my first telescope, which my dad bought me when I was, oh, seven or eight years old. It didnt have the strongest lens, the shiniest case, or the heftiest price tag, but it got the job done... I didn't need to see every star, my imagination took care of that. Still, a decade and a half later, I feel the same thing I did as a child when I look at the stars. I feel focused. [For a moment, Paris stops talking, as if he's just shared a truth so fundamental it need not be further expressed. The silence is almost eerie, until Ronnie starts up again, still not moving a muscle.] RP: I lost a lot of my focus. I got caught up in calling Billy Shakespeare names and trying to show everyone up... sure, I don't like working for the IIWF too much, and I have legitimate gripes, but I let myself carried away. I didn't realize this at first, but when I got home for the break the first thing Dad did was slap me right across the face. And I have to say, I deserved it. I can deride a man's skills, his costume, his personality, but sexual orientation has nothing to do with it, and that was cheap on my part. No more. Now, I'm just stating what I want and doing what I have to do. Maybe I'll still be ruffling some feathers, but not without just cause. Takezo Musashi, you bother me. You were gone for months, in breach of contract, while I stayed on here and worked my fingers to the bone for this promotion. Neither of us liked the way our careers were going, but I fought on like a man and you ran away like a spoiled child. Still, when you come back, as ever the Prodigal Son, the IIWF falls over itself hyping you... hyping you ahead of me. No one, and let me repeat no one, has done more work for this promotion in the ring than me in the last few months. No one has worked more house shows, trained longer, or put up with more than me. But still, I get shafted while the Prodigal Son Trio of Musashi, Kowalski, and Deathbringer show up heralded as heroes. I can't even get a free cup of coffee in this town and those men sign advertising campaigns before even wrestling a match in their redebut. It makes me sick. [Becoming unusually animated for this segment, Paris shifts his weight onto his other leg as he moves to a more comfortable position from which to stargaze, still never looking at the camera.] RP: The Cruiserweight Ladder challenge, or whatever it's called, is a joke. I didn't believe in it then, I don't now. That's no way to decide who gets a Cruiserweight Title shot, because there's absoultely no wrestling skill involved, just luck and manipulation. If anyone else wants to be an undeserving, fluke challenger fighting an undeserving, joke champion they can be my guest, but Ronnie Paris earns his title shots. I won't be there, it's beneath me. As for the "Winners vs Losers" match, I'm in familiar territory. Carrying a team of losers on my back brings me back to the White Flight days... but then again, Derek Mota is no loser. Love him, as some did, or hate him as I do, he is still in my mind the real Cruiserweight Champion of the IIWF, not some jet pack flying, limousine riding fluke. As for the rest of the bunch? Granted, anyone who makes it to the IIWF is a threat, but I somehow think I ended up on the wrong team when they split it into winners and losers. [Up in the sky, a small object at low altitudes zooms by. This does not go unnoticed by Paris, who allows himself a smile as he sees the... whatever it is whoosh by, a small green light the only thing truly visible about it.] RP: It's a bird... it's a plane... it's Tim Turner! No, wait, it's a bird. Which reminds me, I have to go buy some more windshield washer fluid... if you'll excuse me, kind sir. [Fade slowly back to the studio as Paris stretches out his legs, one or both presumably "asleep" from the hours of sitting still. Fade back to Larry and Victoria.] LM: We've got some very... varied individuals in this match. VVE: That's for certain. I'm going to have to go with the "losers" for this one. Paris and Mota are a couple of scrappers who can take it to the other wrestlers. Christiansen doesn't seem to have that kind of winning spirit but if he's lucky some will rub off of his partners. LM: Kevin Christiansen is a man of honour. I think it's only a matter of time before he starts putting some wins together. We've got another important tag match on this card. VVE: This match will decide which tag team will get a shot at the WOrld Tag Champs...either the Harlequins or Cold Spell. LM: Four teams will face off... the Machines, Damage Inc., the High Plains Drifters, and the Down Boys. VVE: Any one of these teams has what it takes to beat...except for the Drifters. They don't have quite the edge they used to. LM: I think that the Drifters could surprise you. They are primed to return to the glory they once had. Let's go to some words from the Machines and the Down Boys. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The Machines ----------------------------------------------------------------------- [Paul Wong hurries by, totally oblivious to the camera. He grabs a list off a table, and mumbles as he starts reading it.] PW: ...Damn! I forget to pick up the pie! Now I've got to stop at the store, and I'm already late. [The camera swings over to the right, where Simon O'Neal is flipping through channels, finally settling on the Lions-Bears game. He looks up into the camera.] SO: Yo, Boy Scout! Do you want to say anything to the good folks at the Double I? PW: Huh? {Finally looks into the camera} I don't have time. I have a half hour to get to my folks, and I still need to pick up about three different things. My grandmother's going to kill me. SO: Uh-huh. Right. {Looks into the camera} He bench presses almost 500 pounds, I've seen him take hits that put most people in the hospital, and he's terrified of a eighty-year old woman who uses a cane. PW: Thanksgiving's big at my house. {He pauses for a moment, making a mental decision.} Hey, we have room for one more if... SO: I'm not welcome there. All of your relatives hate me, remember? PW: Only my mom's side. And the "Tomato Incident" was your fault. SO: No it wasn't... {Both then look at the camera.} Never mind. Long story. PW: Very long. So what's your plans? SO: Watch the game, then head over to the bar. I'm meeting someone... Tracy or Stacy or something like that. I remembered her name last week... anyway, I'll figure out what to do then. PW: I'm sure you will. I gotta go. [Paul walks out. Simon shrugs his shoulders, then continues.] SO: Actually, I ought to prepare for the match on Saturday {points to some videos on top of the television}, but I've seen the films of all three teams so many times I'm having visions of the Down Boys in my sleep. Well, we get the title shot we've been asking for. All we have to do is beat three other teams in one night. Unfortunately, two of the teams already hold wins over us, and the other team is a former tag team champion. {Counts off on his fingers} High Plains Drfiters- You guys were great, and I know that any moment you'll snap out of your funk and become as good as you were. Down Boys- Last time we teamed together, this time we're opponents. No jokes this time- I know how good you two are. Damage, Inc.- According to a lot of people, the best tag team in the world. You said you were... what, number 13? Thirteen on the top 200 tag teams. Well, guess what? Paul and I were also on that list. Number 15... and we didn't have the reputation that you two have earned. My point is... all three teams are excellent. But Paul and I think... check that. Paul and I KNOW that the Machines are as good as any team in the world. We beat the Harlequins, we beat Cold Spell, and we'll beat whichever team wins this Saturday. And since we have to go through all three of you to get that shot... we will. [Fade] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The Down Boys ----------------------------------------------------------------------- VO: The following is a special family presentation of the IIWF. We now take you to "South Park Saturday Night". [The scene is the living room of a house. Adam Peterson and Dan Oliver are in the middle of the room, on their knees to give the apperance that they are shorter than they really are. They are both dressed in winter clothes, with the exception of Down Boys T-shirts. They have shoes attached to their knees.] AP (as Stan): Dude, I can't wait for IIWF Saturday Night! It kicks ass! DO (as Kyle): Totally. I can't wait to see my favorite tag team, The Down Boys, pound all those other teams into the ground. [In walks...er...shuffles Awesome T. T is also on his knees, dressed in a winter hat and has shoes on his knees to give the apperance of being 8 years old, albeit an 8 year old with a goatee. Instead of Down Boys merchandise, however, T wears a leather jacket with a t-shirt under it with a picture of Wendy Testeburger on it with her mouth open and the caption "Shoot, Cartman, Shoot" on it. He also has what appears to be a pillow under the t-shirt. Following him is Jani Lane, who is also on his knees, dressed in a orange winter jacket that almost covers his face] AT (as Cartman): Are you candyasses ready to go to the show tonight? AP: Who the hell are you supposed to be? AT: I'm my hero, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts! See? [T...er, Cartman opens his jacket to reveal his t-shirt] AP: Where the hell did you get that? AT: Oh, what, you pissed because your little hippie girlfriend's on my shirt? You would be, after all, your favorite tag team is a bunch of gay homosexuals. DO: Do you even know what a homosexual is? AT: Sure I do...it's...it's... JL (as Kenny): MMMMM MMMM MMMM MMMM MMMMM MMMHHHH. [Oliver and Peterson begin to laugh] AT: I NEVER TOOK A BANANA FROM JIM CORNETTE! AP: I bet you took a lot of bananas from him, fat-ass. AT: I AM NOT FAT! I'm big boned. DO: You're fat and your role model is a 100 year old has been who makes fun of wreslers that show him just how damn old he really is. AT: SCREW YOU GUYS! I'm goin' to the damn show without you. [Dan Oliver picks up the phone] DO: Hey Cartman, it's Pat Patterson on the phone. He wants to know when you want your "push". AP: Hey Cartman, when you eat Cheesy Poofs, do you put them in your mouth, or save time just by shoving them directly up your ass? [Just then, Awesome T/Cartman/"Soundbite" starts to get real angry, with his face turning red] AP & DO: SHOOT, CARTMAN, SHOOT! [Just as that line is said, Awesome T/Cartman/"Soundbite" pulls out a handgun and starts pointing it at Peterson and Oliver] AT: That's it! I've had enough! AP: Dude! Chill out! We were only kidding! AT: Eh, don't worry about it, it's not a real gun anyway. See? [Awesome T/Cartman/"Soundbite" shoots the gun into the air, where surprisingly, it actually goes off. The bullet ricochets everywhere, until it hits Jani Lane/Kenny between the eyes, causing him to fall over and "die".] DO: OH MY GOD! YOU KILLED JANI! YOU BASTARD! [Rats begin to nibble, then take away the body of Jani Lane] AP: Well. That sucked. AT (crying): Kenny...was a good man. I will miss him...forever. DO: Dude, he called you a (BLEEP). AT: Son of a bitch. [Fade back to Larry and Victoria.] LM: Well, that was... interesting. VVE: I take it back. They can't win. No one that... strange can win. LM: All oddness aside, who do you think will get the shot? VVE: Damage Inc. are too great to be overlooked. The Machines could upset but I don't expect so. LM: That brings us to the Cruiserweight ladder match for the shot at Tim Turner's title. Whoever can get the jetpack from high above the ring will face Turner... VVE: Or whoever is the current champion. LM: Which will probably be Turner since he is on a campaign of dodging opponents. VVE: That just shows how smart he is. So far we know that the Enigma is in the match and Paris is not. How can you call a match like this? LM: Musashi has got to be a favourite but who knows what will really happen. All the IIWF fans can find out by watching IIWF Saturday Night tomorrow, on this station! VVE: Larry and I will back here next week for another stimulating episode of Countdown. For Larry Morton, I'm Victoria Von Edward, good night everybody! [Shot fades] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+