________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| |\ /| /\ |\ | | /\ \ / | || | \ v v / | __| | v |/ \| \| __| /__\ \/ |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| | |\ /| |/ |/ \/ | | \/ | |\_// /\ |\ /| | _ | / __ / __ | v | | | / \ . |\ | / \ / \ | | | | \__ | | \| | __ \__ 5 January 1998 | | | | \ | | | \__| \ .....................|..v_____/.|.|..|____|____/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The door to the IIWF Interview area bursts open courtesy of a size twelve boot belonging to Brody Thunder. He staggers through the now shattered door looking as though he'd just come from a car wreck. He's covered with blood on his bald head, face and chest. His customary black t-shirt is in tatters and hangs onto him barely. His jeans, once blue, are now the twisted color of bloodsoaked purple and ripped in several places. He is dragging the IIWF World title belt behind him as he slumps down onto a metal folding chair set up on the floor. His crimson-stained chest heaves heavily, a fitting testament to the furious battle just waged against the superstar known as "The Fury", Steve Kowalski. Thunder stares down at the belt, now folded in his hands. He throws his head back and shakes it as if trying to clear some cobwebs still remaining from the fight. As he lowers his head he notices the camera. Through the crimson mask on his face, an evil grin emerges.] BT: Kowalski... I'll give ya credit, son. Ya put up one helluva fight. [Thunder reaches off camera and grabs a towel. He quickly wipes his face with it. As soon as he cleans it, a nasty laceration on his forehead spills out more blood, defeating the effort. Thunder winces as the blood trickles down into his eye and mouth.] Most men woulda quit after feelin' the tar rip the flesh from their back. Not you. You seemed ta almost... _like_ it. An' mebbe ya did... don't really care. What matters ta me is right here. [He slaps the belt hard, sending blood splattering from the metal plate.] Y'know what this is, Kowlaski? This ain't jus' a world title. This ain't jus' some champeenship strap. Naw... this here... [Thunder holds up the bloodstained belt for the camera.] ...is the IIWF _World_ title, my friend. _The_ most prestigous strap in this business. When ya stole it from me last week I told ya... ya wouldn't beat me again when it was on the line. Truer words were never spoken, amigo. I knew yer ego wouldn't let you jus' walk away from me tonight. I knew yer ego wouldn't think twice about jus' goin' ta fist city with no rules ta prevent a winner. An' I _knew_ yer ego would let ya make that one crucial mistake. An' ya know what, stud? Yer ego didn't let me down. [He puts a thumb to his nose and blows some blood out of one of his nostrils.] When I go out there an' say I'm the best there is in this sport today, I ain't jus' flappin' my piehole ta hear myself yak. I wouldn't say it if it weren't the truth, my friend. An' tonight... I had ta make ya a believer, pal. Plain an' simple. After last week I knew I didn't have a choice but ta take matters inta my own hands. Last week... you walked away with the prize. [He wipes the trail of blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.] That was one fer you. This week I corrected that li'l mistake. That's one fer me. Way I see it, chum... there's one match left. Snow Brawl. You an' me. Winner takes all. My kinda scrap. [Thunder again wipes his brow and then simply drapes the towel over the top of his head. With his bloody face now slightly shadowed, the grin is still visable.] One word o' advice though, Kowalski. If ya thought tonight was a tough'n... don't show up at Snow Brawl. 'Cuz tonight ya almost got a glimpse o' Heaven, but come January 17th... [The camera tightens in on Thunder's piercing gray eyes, peering out from his crimson-covered face.] ...yer gonna get a taste o' Hell. That ain't some promise, runt. [Thunder abruptly gets up, sending the chair toppling backwards to the floor with a crash. He slings the belt over his shoulder and winks into the camera.]      That's a fact. Don't believe me?  Show up.  [Thunder kicks another chair against the wall as he exits the interview area. The camera slowly pans down to the floor where Thunder's chair has been sitting. A pool of blood lies on the floor. The camera pans in close on the blood and then slowly fades to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Steve "the Fury" Kowalski ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera fades into a befuddled Kowalski, standing in front of what's left of his car. Bruised and battered himself, the car doesn't look any better. A crushed windshield, caved in front end and a flat tire seem a fitting end to a disastrous night. Sighing to himself, he hops up on what is left of the hood and lights up a stogie. Some banter can be heard from him.] SK: I knew I should'a taken my bike today. Guess I better grab a cab. Wait a minute. Where's Brody's ride? [A devilish smile makes it back to the now former champion as he goes in search of his enemy's wheels.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Duncan Macbeth ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Duncan Macbeth steps into the IIWF interview area, a nasty bruise evident on the side of his face where Derek Mota had kicked him with his cast-wrapped foot, but his head is nonetheless held high, his jade eyes sparkling, and the prize that had eluded him for months, the IIWF Intercontinental Title belt, slung over his shoulder.  The new champion looks down at the belt, glittering in the studio lights, and runs a hand along its ornate surface before turning to the camera, a stern look on his face.] DM: Th' penny has dropped, Quigley. Yuir worst fears have jus' come t' pass. Ye stepped in th' ring with me ag'in, with yuir title on th' line, jus' like at Ring Wars IV.  But unlike Ring Wars IV, this time there was no Manning around t' save ye.  This time, it was jus' ye an' me, one on one. An' ye weren't good enough. Maybe ye've lost a step or two o'er th' las' few months while ye've been lettin' Manning win yuir bouts fer ye.  Or maybe ye'd jus' tired o' carryin' on th' facade tha' was yuir reign as th' Intercontinental champ, tired o' hangin' on t' a strap tha' should hae brought ye so much respect an' acclaim, but in th' end brought ye nothin' but misery, all because o' yuir wee pet weasel. Maybe ye should be thankin' me fer relievin' ye of a title ye were never able t' live up to, wha'. [Macbeth's features lighten a bit as he begins to chuckle, shaking his head.] Now, I ken tha' ye're probably jus' a wee bit pissed about losin' a match by submission, aren't ye, after all tha' hot air ye'd been spoutin' about how ye'd never submit t' anyone.  Ye're probably pissed tha' ye had t' wrestle a match tha' was refereed by Joe Petrow.  Ye're probably pissed tha' Manning wasn't able t' stick 'is nose in th' match an' rescue ye ag'in.  Ye're probably pissed about a lot o' things, an' I ken tha' we're all goin' t' hear yuir tired, predictable auld "I've been screwed by th' IIWF" line o'er an' o'er ag'in fer weeks t' come. I don't care. Maybe ye'd have a point, maybe not.  An' maybe we'll have t' do this all over ag'in sometime down th' road, an' that'd be jus' fine with me.  But fer righ' now, ye can jus' choke on th' fact tha' ye were beaten, beaten by Duncan Macbeth, beaten in th' middle o' th' ring, an' beaten by a submission move. An' don't ye ever forget it, tosser. Ye're th' past, Quigley, an' I'm th' future. I'm th' IIWF Intercontinental Champion. An' I'm goin' t' show th' IIWF wha' a true champion should be, mark me words. [With that, Macbeth turns and begins to walk out of the interview area, but is stopped in his tracks by the cameraman, who calls after the champion to stop.] CM: [off camera]  Wait, Duncan!  Don't you have anything to say about Derek Mota? [Macbeth turns slowly, the purple bruise on the side of his face clearly evident as he turns through his profile, and glares back at the cameraman with his corrosive gaze.] DM: Derek Mota? [Macbeth's expression is one of pure murder, but inexplicably, his countenance slowly changes to mild amusement, and he scoffs derisively at the cameraman.] Who the Jaysis is Derek Mota, mate? [The new Intercontinental Champion turns back and casually strolls out of the interview area, with the air of a man who hasn't a care in the world.  Fade.]   ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Backstage at IIWF Saturday Night.  The parking lot match between Brody Thunder and Steve Kowalski is taking place, as the roar of the crowd can be heard every now and then.  Steve Manning, bloody nose and all, bursts into the scene, livid at the events which transpired in the Quigley/Macbeth title match.  Manning jumps up and down as he shrieks.] SM: What the [BLEEP] is goin' on here?!!  How many times do we have to get screwed before the IIWF just goes ahead and _admits_ that they can't stand Chris Quigley and Steve Manning?!  I'm sick of this [BLEEP]in' bull[BLEEP] and if it doesn't stop, I'm gonna... I'm gonna kill somebody!  I can't... [Manning's next rant is interupted by the former Intercontinental Champion, who strides silently into the picture, wearing an expressionless face as he shoves Manning, who was jumping up and down.  Manning flies out of the cameras view as a scream and a crash are heard.]  ** CRASH! ** [Quigley simply gazes up into the camera, his steely eyes showing no emotion.  He stares, stares at the fans, wrestlers, everybody watching this broadcast at home.  His breathing, the only sound filling the air.  Finally, Quigley's mouth opens, he licks blood from the side of his mouth, as he continues to glare into the camera.  The intense stare goes on as Quigley utters some very simple, calm words.] CQ: Do you really think I gave up, Duncan?  [Pause.] CQ: Do you _really_ think I gave up? [Quigley's glare seems to pierce the camera lens, as the scene fades.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Enigma" Takezo Musashi ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The generic IIWF interview area. The "Enigma" Takezo Musashi steps out into the shot, fresh from his bout against Christopher Stonebreaker. Musashi's face paint is smudged, and beads of sweat trace their way down his chest.] TM: Ronnie Paris, what went down between us tonight was just the howling wind that preceeds the storm! The pain that I inlicted upon you was just the first sting of my raging fury! When I crashed into you with my Starsault Press from the top of the ladder - a move that could have proved the end for _both_ of us - it was a moment of sheer adrenaline charged mayhem, and believe me when I tell you, I enjoyed it to the full. It was a thrill and a vengeance, Ronnie Paris, to bust you up and take you out - but my thirst for violence has not nearly been slaked. You may show remorse for striking your own father, little Ronnie, but expect no mercy from the Enigma. You can't erase the past with one moment of regret, and you can't erase my hatred for all of your misdeeds. The time has almost come for us to settle up once and for all... Just two weeks. Two weeks until Snow Brawl... And when that time comes... there will be no more messing around. When that time comes... recklessness and danger shall be raised to unparalleld heights, for the ladder gets used to the full. Be prepared for the biggest bone breaking, blood spilling, rulebreaking spectacular of your life, Ronnie Paris. It may be the last match you ever live through... [Musashi's eyes take on a dangerous glint behind his facepaint.] Christopher Stonebreaker, I doubt you feel satisfied with our battle this evening. Thus does irony lift it's hand - I destroyed you with a wrong doing, and so in turn, I become the victim of one. It is a shame we can not fight as two warriors should, but there are greater issues at stake than this... But next time, Stonebreaker, we shall fight in an enclosed steel cage. We shall fight without the interference of others. We shall finally have the satisfaction of proving which of us is the greater man. It may not happen next week; it may not happen next month... but I assure you, our final time will come. [Musashi bows to the camera as the shot fades out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Timothy N. Turner walks into the interview area shortly after Saturday's card. His eyes are still red and watering from the blast of Mace he took earlier.] TNT: Another Saturday has come and gone and we now have another champion to be proud of. There were good things and bad things about what happend this week. [He stops, as if to think for a moment.] TNT: Thunder has the World Title again. That's just the way it should be. It has nothing to do with me thinking he's better than Kowalksi but it has a lot to do with Brody calling me out. I never forget, Brody. You challenged me and I am going to take that strap away. Then there comes the Intercontinental title. Duncan didn't win it tonight... he did that at Ring Wars. What he did tonight was prove to any doubters who the real champ is. Fitzgerald! I can't talk about that match without mentioning you. You were out there swinging, mate. That's okay in my books. So why am I not completely happy? Two words: Petrow... Mota. Joe Petrow! Do you think you can use Mace on the Rocket Man without feeling my wrath? That's not the way things are, Joe! You call yourself crazy but you haven't seen the Rocket Man when he's really angry! I'm going to take you down, Petrow! Bet on it! Finally... people wonder why diverse personalitites like Duncan and TNT associate with each other. Friendship. I value friendship more than anything else in the world. That is why when Duncan eliminated me in the Battle Royal a few months ago, I didn't take it personally. We were friends and I knew he didn't intentionally do me wrong. Mota, I welcomed you into our circle. I extended the most prestigious honour in our sport... the friendship of Timothy N. Turner. You turned your back. On Wednesday you will regret that. I guarantee it. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "To Excess" Rick Williams ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene opens to an empty IIWF interview area.  Following a period of inactivity of 4-5 seconds, some distant laughter becomes audible. With the laughter becoming louder and louder, a chuckling "To Excess" Rick Williams comes into view.  Wiping some sweat from his face, and taking a moment to compose himself, he begins to speak.] RW: Damnit, that was fun... don't ya' think so, Ron? [A seemingly fixed smile remains on Williams' face, as he calmly proceeds.] Hey Musashi... that was some impressive stuff out there.  It's not everyone who's got the guts to risk their body, their career and even their life, in pursuit of their most despised nemesis.  Taking out Paris' little security saps, the plunge off the ladder... Crowd-pleasing and highly entertaining. Why, I can even accept the subsequent ruling of a no-contest, and say... "Yeah, good call... that's a hell of a way to end a match". [The smile suddenly turns to an emotionless expression.  Pushing his hair from his face, Williams stares directly at the camera, and continues, his previous upbeat tone completely lost to anger.] But, do it again, _Takezo_... and I'll break every damn bone in your body... Count on it, Jack. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Lord Byron ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene opens in the IIWF interview area, where Lord Byron is stood alongside the beautiful Lady DeWinter.  Byron brushes his hands back through his hair, fixing an angry stare on the camera...] LB: "Real Deal" Luke Steele.  [Byron pauses with a sigh, folding his arms around his brass-topped cane and shaking his head slightly] LB: Just why exactly did you deem it necessary to do what you did?  What reason could you have for quite blatantly interfering in my match tonight?  That's all I want to know, Mr. Steele -- why.  If you had a problem, I thought you least would be man enough to bring it out into the open, and confront me face to face.  If you've got a challenge to make, a point to prove -- then do so, because I can assure you now have my undivided attention. [Byron pauses momentarily, resting his chin on the top of his cane, brow furrowed in thought.] Charles Scheffield.  Once again, I find myself indebted to you.  If you ever need my assitance, all you need do is ask.  I know I can count upon your support in our match at Snow Brawl, and you definitely have mine.  Which brings me on to my final point. [DeWinter slips her arm around Byron's own, linking his arm with hers and resting her head on his shoulder.] Meatman, Jimmy Steele, whichever you wish to be called, it was an... interesting battle you gave me tonight, marred only by unfortunate circumstances.  I do not hold the Real Deal's actions against you -- and I'll watching you closely in the run up to our Lethal Lottery match.  I hope we can put this night's events behind us -- for it will surely benefit you to work alongside us, rather than against us.  Can we trust you?  For my part, I hope so. I'll be awaiting your response. [Byron clasps Dewinter's hand in his own, and the pair walk off set.  The scene fades out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Edmund Fitzgerald & Icehawk ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF interview set. Edmund Fitzgerald enters, carrying his oar over his shoulder. He has a bandage just above his swollen left eye, the results of getting clocked with Derek Mota's wheelchair. As is becoming all too usual, the look in his eyes indicates a complete lack of stability.]   EF: So, little Derek Mota wants to join the circus too, eh? I have to admit that I'm disappointed in his effort, though. A wheelchair's been done to death, Derek. You need to take lessons from the real stars of the IIWF, like Shadoe Rage. I got beat tonight by a halibut. That's showing some creativity. Imagine the irony here -- a man named after a sunken ship gets beaten by a fish! I loved it! A definite thumbs up!   [Suddenly, the grinning movie critic turns into a very, very angry man.]   Harlequins, didn't you learn your lesson last week? If those stupid bimbos keep sticking their necks into my business, I'm going to keep breaking them. And don't give me any crap about hitting women -- that red-headed bitch lost any immunity when she torched Icehawk last year. Tragedy, why don't you find another tramp, name her Harmony, and bring her out to ringside for the Triple Threat match on Saturday. That way I can finish off my hat trick.   [Just as suddenly, the rage drains away from his face, to replaced by great sadness.]   And I was crushed when you brought out the chainsaw. All anyone talks about is how imaginative and fresh the Harlequins are, and the best you can do is a chainsaw? That's really, really disappointing. The fans expect more out of you than something that has been done so recently. You have a reputation to uphold, you know.   [Fitz lurches to the side, and the camera pulls back to show that a furious Icehawk has just charged onto the set and shoved him.]   IH: What the hell is wrong with you? I have to save you from three maniacs with a chainsaw, and all you care about is that they aren't the first people to use one? You seem to think this is all some kind of game, where you get style points on how cool your foreign object looks. And _I_ am the one paying the price! Or didn't you notice Wednesday night when your idol Shadoe Rage was slamming my head into the ring steps? You certainly didn't bother helping me out. You...   [Icehawk breaks off as he realizes that Fitz is crying. Even though he outweighs his partner by 50 pounds, at this moment, he is so shrunken with fear that you would be forgiven for thinking it was Icehawk who was the bigger man. Icehawk stares at him for a long moment, then leads him out of the interview area by the arm. As the picture fades, you can hear Fitz's quavering voice begging Icehawk not to be mad at him.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Harlequins ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Tragedy and Terror are standing in front of the IIWF banner. Terror is pulling on the cord of his chainsaw, trying to get it to start.] TRAGEDY: We aren't surprised at what transpired this past Saturday. [The chainsaw sputters, but doesn't start.] TRAGEDY: It always seems that whenever someone wants to make a name for themselves. They attempt to do so at the expense of the Harlequins. [Terror pulls the cord again. The chainsaw rumbles a bit.] TRAGEDY: The Machines, Shadoe Rage, Natural Predators, LFD, Fitzgerald. None of them know better than to keep their noses out of our affairs. None of them realize that with us, they are in way over their heads. [Terror keeps pulling at the cord.] TRAGEDY: In a sense, we should be flattered that we are thought so highly that a victory over us means a shot at stardom. [Terror yanks the cord again. The chainsaw begins to start up.] TRAGEDY: But what it really is... [Terror starts priming the choke.] TRAGEDY: ...is pissing us off! [The chainsaw roars to life as Terror charges the banner. He cuts through it and the wall it was upon, causing it to crash to the ground. Terror allows the chainsaw to slow to a halt.] TRAGEDY: We've had about enough of it. From now on, the Harlequins will no longer stand by and wait for another attack. From this point forward, we go on the offensive, and everyone is a target. No man, woman or beast will stand in our way. For if they do... [Terror walks to the camera and holds the chainsaw in front of it.] TERROR: ...they get introduced to Binky! Yes? TRAGEDY: This past Saturday, we were just getting warmed up. As of right now, The Harlequins have declared war, and we will take no prisoners. [Terror revs up the chainsaw again.] TRAGEDY: Resistance... is futile! [The chainsaw roars to life again, and Terror swings it at the camera. The image dissapears in a flurry of static.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Lost Boyz ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The screen flickers to footage of The Lost Boyz in the IIWF. Every three seconds a new clip starts, from their numerous tussles with The Prophets of Rage to their match with Cold Spell and the triangle match in jail. The clips stop to a screen that reads "Been a Long Time..." and that switches to a shot of Porteaux and Ramos sitting in front of an IIWF banner. The camera shot switches to different angles throughout as The Lost Boyz can be seen wearing personalized New Orleans Saints jerseys -- Porteaux #1, Ramos #346. Jeandra is noticably absent.]                                                    AP: I just wanna clear a few things up around here since ya know... it's the holiday season and we've been takin' it easy -- and if ya got a problem with the IIWF World Tag Team Champions taking it easy then you'll just hafta KISS MY ASS... but we've been listenin' and watching all these tag teams get in front of the camera, hollerin' and jumping up and down trying to get your attention and saying, "Hey, look at us! We'll do anything... even make complete asses of ourselves, just so you pay attention to us!" Frankly, I'm kinda embarrassed for some of these teams. I mean look at Licensed for Devastation. Made all this hoopla about t-shirts and being the uncrowned champs and speakin' clear concise English for the first time since that time their mommas dropped 'em on their heads. What happened to 'em? Dropped. Like a cigarette butt in a bar in California. Last time I checked, ain't nobody won a title 'til they beat SOMEBODY. Y'all ain't beat nobody. Y'all ain't the champs. [The screen goes black except for the vibrating word "BITCHES" and switches back.] AP: Then we have the Fabulous Ones. Another team jumping up and down... well, actually we all secretly hope the broad is the one jumping up and down on camera but she NEVER obliges... ER: Trick... AP: ...to get your attention. Let's see, we've seen in our days, what... studmuffin tag teams, gay studmuffin tag teams, gay studmuffin tag teams with a gay manager, gay studmuffin tag teams with a GOOD looking manager. The Fabulous Ones, a gay studmuffin team with a GOOD looking manager, who just all happen to be of Asian descent. Original. I like that. [winks] And they sure are consistent, ain't they? Yapping about how THEY'RE the best and that everybody is scared and tremblin' and shaking to face them. But [scratches his head where there once was hair]... what exactly have you actually DONE... again? I dunno I must've missed it somewhere between your FIFTIETH interview claiming the ENTIRE IIWF was scared to face you. Wait! [smacks his own head] How stupid of me, Eddy! How could we forget what the Fabulous Ones have done in their career?! The most important thing... hell, the one thing they ARE actually good at! The one concrete thing they've been able to do since they came to IIWF... and probably before... ER: What is it? AP: Ain't it obvious?! The only thing they've managed to do convincingly is list EVERY ONE of our accomplishments EVERY TIME they manage to mention us. All they've managed to do is make US look better! Thanks. You still suck. ER: Just like the Down Bitches. AP: Want a hint why no one wants to get in the ring with you? 'Cuz you suck. Probably always have... since we'll never know for sure... but definitely always will. I mean, beating jobbers makes ya look good... beating drug induced pompous straight haired -- but not straight -- gigalo Japanese wannabe superstars doesn't make ya look good... if anything else it probably leaves a bad taste in your mouth. [The screen flashes again to the word "THE HUNTED".] AP: Ya gotta admire the Natural Predators. Honestly, outside of them, ain't a team in this damn fed that takes themselves seriously! Ya got us, the Predators and then ya got a roster full of buffoons and bad gimmick, bad taste and bad lookin' chumps. The Predators. They kept it real. Challenged us without all the extra yappin'. Bear even beat Eddy here in a challenge match. [Ramos claps slowly] I'll tell ya what, Eddy. Once we retire, those Natural Predators are gonna be something. Maybe even the best. But right now, it just isn't the time, place... nuthin'. Don't believe me? You'll get in the ring with us REAL soon, and then you'll find out what I'm talkin about. [The screen flashes again to the word "WHATEVER".] AP: And of course we have those lovable huggable Down Boys. [chuckles] See, most people get the wrong idea about Eddy and me. They think we're hard. Cold. Unfeeling. Unsensitive. Hey, I can't speak for Eddy, but I have a sense of humor. I actually LIKE what the Down Boys are doing. I think it's funny. I honestly think it's great! I mean, you got ANOTHER pair of guys who'll probably never amount to [BLEEP] trying to get some people to look their way so what do they do? Time for an identity crisis! Yay! [does a "golf clap"] Ya see, somebody let those boys watch "Face/Off" one too many times [goes into a John Travolta impression] "To defeat Damage Inc... we must become Damage Inc..." [Porteaux almost falls to the ground in laughter] AP: [BLEEP], who pissed on the ground one day and told you THAT would work? You think imitating us is gonna do anything? HA! That's fresh. Ya see, they probably think it's just gonna make us mad and all. Hey, unlike Mr. Personality over here [points to Ramos who gives him a weird look], I say make fun of Damage Inc. all ya want. What does it say to the world? The Down Boys have done NOTHING worthwhile in the sport, so we'll just use someone else's name to try to get on top. We're not proud of our name or anything that WE'VE done... of course they HAVEN'T done anything so I guess that makes it a bit easier on 'em... so we'll BECOME Damage Inc. and see if THAT works! Let me fill you in on something, Boys. Another tag team thought they were cute too. They got on a mic and said THEY were Damage Inc. and not us. That was in 1996. They're just now coming back into wrestling. Slowly. [The screen flashes again with the words "STILL SOME CONFUSION".] AP: Look. The IIWF, it seems, is just full of a lot of talkers. A lot of yappers. A lot of bull[BLEEP]. Ya got teams sayin they "deserve" to be the champs but aren't cuz yadda-yadda-yadda... ya got teams who say they WILL be the champs... if only they could find some talent... then ya got the ones who gotta be unique and claim they ARE the champs, crowned or uncrowned! [Shakes his head and waves his hand] Listen, last time I checked, people, [pulls up his IIWF World Tag Team Title belt] WE'RE THE [BLEEP]ING CHAMPS! Don't be fooled by imitations... until somebody beats us, hey... we're the champs. You can believe in these cardboard champs and guys who sip wine and CLAIM to be the best. And let's not forget those DESTINED to be the best. Uh-uh. [holds up the belts again] It's US. And if anyone else says so... ER: I'm gonna rip their heads off... AP: [pauses] YEAH YEAH! We're gonna rip their heads off!! ER: I'm gonna tear their feet off by their ankles and stick their feet so far up [CENSORED] that they'll have to [BLEEP] when they wanna walk! AP: [turns to his partner and points at him] YOU... need a hug. ER: How can we just sit here and let those PUNKS walk around making fun of us? AP: Chill bro, they're doing the best that they can... you know, with their lack of talent and all. ER: But I wanna get at 'em NOW! Nobody makes fun of my powerbomb!! You know why no one who's felt it makes fun of it? Because they still can't [BLEEP]ing TALK!! AP: It's all good, Eddy. Remember... Je's taking care of it. ER: [as if a light appears above his head] Oh yeah!! She's gonna bring the... AP: HUSH now! Ain't supposed to spoil the suprise! ER: Yeah yeah! [starts smiling] AP: Face it, we're the World Tag Team Champions... we're the Lost Boyz, and y'all are still just lost, boys. IIWF, get a life. ER: Mr. Personality, huh? AP: It was just a joke... yo, it was a joke, man. Yo, quit looking at me like that!! HEY! Where'd that brick come from?! [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Down Boys ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Backstage at the IIWF Coliseum.  Awesome T is there, but his trademark smirk is not there.  In fact, no one but him is there... it seems someone has stolen Awesome T's smirk.  T sits upon a pile of crates as he looks in the camera. He has an icepack pressed against his forehead:] AT: You know something, Fabulous Ones?  You're getting to be quite the annoyance.  We've beaten you now twice.  Of course, ego prevents you from believing that, and so be it.  Tell the Japanese media that you won... they won't believe you.  Hell, we're probably better known in Japan then we are here in the States, but feel free to spread your propaganda. [T bites a bit from his fingernail, then looks up.] And the Machines... speaking of teams we've beaten way too many times already.  Simon O' Neal... the man who threw a fireball at Adam Peterson, insists on ruining an easy victory by the Down... er... Damage Inc., which I would have thought would have made you happy, and desides to screw everything up for everyone by getting the Chippendales boys disqualified. [T runs his fingers through his hair and looks up for a final time.] Fab Ones... the Japanese boys that wrestle the weak-ass American style... kindly do us a favor and go back to wherever it's "raining men" and stay there.  You'll probably want to do so all the more after Wednesday, when we finally get to beat the hell out of you.  And Machines?  We took care of you before.  I'm tired of teams trying to ride our coat tails to success.  Take your little feud with the Fab Ones and take it elsewhere... we have to prepare for a World Title shot at the PPV. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Fabulous Ones ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [On the screen is a 1979 remote controlled “Rock’em Sock’em” toy.  It rolls around in a circle.  On the chest of the toy are the names, Simon O’Neal and Paul Wong.  As the robot rolls by the cameraman, the back end can be seen.  On the butt is a picture of Simon O’Neal’s face.] AGITO: [voice over while the toy rolls around.] Simon O’Neal, Paul Wong... the Machines.  Sho and myself are going to put an end to you once and for all at Snow Brawl. SHO: [voice over] Hey, you’re a poet and don’t know it, but your feet show it! [Sho laughs. The robot turns around and comes back across the screen.  It stops as Sho lays down on the ground in front of it.  The robot starts punching.] SHO: Come on Simon, you can do better than that.  How about you Paul?  I guess you both realize that you’re outclassed by the Fabulous Ones. [Sho picks the robot off the ground.] SHO: So, Agito and I will just kick your ass. [Sho drops the robot, and drop kicks it.  The arms and legs fly off on impact, as the body launches a good twenty feet away, swirling out of control.) SHO: Well, that’s that! [Sho dusts himself off, and starts laugh hysterically.  The Picture fades to black but Sho’s laugh can still be heard.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Natural Predators ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [An image of Kuyler, somewhat grainy appears on the TV. As the camera fades back, we see it is an image on another TV:] KG: Well, here it is. My boys, the Natural Predators, finally right a     wrong so long ago perpetrated by LFD. No offense, Harlequins, but     this was a long time overdue. And with Cold Spell at our sides, we     are the truest force of nature this league has seen since Flare's     attempt at the Horsemen. Earth, fire, wind, and water. Bear,     Phoenix, Icehawk, and Fitz. Four elements to victory. And an answer     long awaited in this league. [Cut to the "Countdown" clip from the Harlequins.] TERROR: The grizzly fears me! Yes? [A large boot crushes the television, causing it to spit out sparks. Standing over the crushed set are the Predators and Kuyler] B: The Grizzly fears you... no. KG: Prophets of Rage... Wednesday, you're next. GP: Neyho neyehe hiyo. We will triumph. [Camera fades to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Machines ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Standing in the IIWF interview area are the Machines.  Simon O'Neal is holding an ice pack over his head and grimacing, while Paul Wong has a disgusted look on his face.] PW: What the hell were you doing?  You jump into the ring with two men who hate you, and attack the OTHER team? SO: [wincing in pain] It's called screwing your enemies over.  You ought to try it sometime.  I just didn't think the Down Boys or Damage, Inc. or whoever they think they are would get upset.  PW: You didn't think at all. SO: Well, the original plan was to lay the Geisha Boys out in the locker room.  Where the hell were you before the match? PW: I can't believe you were serious about that. SO: Serious?  [He drops the ice pack, showing a nice bump on his head.]  THIS is serious, Paul.  Those two are serious about using us as stepping stones.  And if you could ever forget about your precious conscience, we could get serious about beating the hell out of them. PW: That's not my style. SO: [mimicking his parnter] "That's not my style."  Forget it.  Who did you sign us up to face next week? PW: [shaking his head] Simon, that was your job this time. SO: No, it wasn't.  If you'd ever pay any attention, you'd know... [The camera fades.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Team Sychosys ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ["Sychosys" Joe Petrow and "Mr. Majestyk" Maurice McArthur are rushing out of the building, the camera following along, running along side, as the twosome heads towards the door.] JP: No time to talk, we'll have plenty to say later.  Just remember what     happened tonight, Quigley.  Even in the midst of your ultimate, total defeat, you still find a way to bitch and complain!  Well Quigs, I'm gonna be the second man to make you say "I Quit!", and I'm gonna make you scream it so loud your dead grandma will hear it loud and clear! [As the two are about to run out the door, Petrow grabs the doorjam to stop himself, and gives one final stern message.] JP: Speadbury, we heard the announcement.  Every tag team will be in that battle royal at Snow Brawl.  That means the Barnacle Brothers, that means the Rotundos... and that sure as hell means Team Sychosys too. [Petrow disappears from sight.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+