C + O + U + N + T + D + O + W + N T + O ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/..............\........|...|.......|....| with Larry Morton and Victoria Von Edward January 9, 1998 [The shot opens in the familiar IIWF studios in Portland. Behind the desk sits Larry Morton, with a certain smug look on his face, and Victoria Von Edward, with a much less happy demeanour.] LM: I'm Larry Morton and I would like to welcome you to another edition of Countdown to IIWF Saturday Night! My co-host is none other than Victoria Von Edward, who narrowly missed being fired for her actions last week. VVE: I'd rather I had been fired! Instead I have to come out here and eat crow in front of millions of fans! LM: Not that many people can fit in our studio... VVE: Shut up Morton! LM: We'll get to Victoria's humiliation in just a moment but first let's tell you what we have tonight! In addition to our sneak peak at tomorrow night's exciting show, and our recap of the great Wednesday War Room, we will be having a live phone interview with a former two-time co-holder of the IIWF World Tag Team Championship -- Tragedy of the Harlequins! VVE: I suppose we will have to listen to Mota some time in the hour. LM: We certainly shall. First up, however, we have a special interview that was conducted in the ring during the Wednesday War Room card. The show ran long so I was unable to show it then...but let's go to that clip now! [Cut to footage captioned, "This Past Wednesday". The undercard has been overly long, resulting in a very bored crowd hurling plastic cups at the ring. The crowd mood isn't helped by the road managers being forced to cancel the tag team main event of the evening due to the rubbish being thrown, a bout due to have "Nifty" Ned Norton and Casey C facing a team making its IIWF debut tryout, the "Swingin' Soulsters", a couple of Blues Brothers wanna-bes. As Security manage to make a couple of arests, Poutine Janois emerges, and speaks briefly to the ring announcer in his trademark dulcet tones before waddling backstage. From his cover below a table, the ring announcer speaketh thus...] RA: Errr, ladies and gentlemen, if you would please settle down, and come to order, we have a very special interview replacing tonight's stellar main event! [The hostile crowd boo, but the garbage throwing subsides. Tim Dross runs down the aisle, and hops into the ring. The garbage throwing re-starts, if anything, more vigorously than before. Dross ducks, narrowly avoiding a bottle. ] TD: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we speak to somebody we all want some answers from, the Party Maniac, Marty Warnett. ["Just Like Paradise" kicks in on the PA system, as the crowd erupts. Several fights are taking place, as yet more arrests are made. From backstage, Marty appears, wearing dark sunglasses, T-shirt and jeans, all of which have the distinctive "Quickstrike clothing" logo. He then starts to run, carrying a single crutch. Marty leaps up onto the apron, salutes the crowd, and poses on top of the turnbuckle. He then turns and backflips into the ring.] TD: [looking staggered] Marty, you're back? MW: Hell, yes, Tim. I suffered damage from Reed and Stone, but nowhere near as bad as I made out. All it took was a case of Mooselips for good ol' lush Doc Findlay to scribble some note down. Heck, why don't you ask VP Jividen where Creed got his 'roids from? TD: We were hoping you wouldn't mention that... the feds are looking to indict our beloved president. So, all the last few weeks was an act? [The crowd noise is now virtually nil. The fighting elements having been ejected, most people are now concentrating on the ring.] MW: Shakespeare said that all the world is a stage... and he was right. Tim, I've been around the IIWF way too long to not learn how to get on. The backstabbing, the cheating, the outside interference. All my career, it's been stop start. People coming, people going. Butt Boy Bobby Lincoln. Stud Stetson. Now, Bradley Reed has -- how can I say it best? Oh yeah -- run away. Scarpered. You know why, Tim? TD: Err... I heard he wanted too much money. MW: Nope, that lil Edgar Allan Poe fan knew, in the bottom of his Nine Inch Nails inspired heart that he was due a butt kicking of the highest order. It would've happened at Snow Brawl, but since I got wind he was setting a new land speed record away from Portland, Oregon, I nailed his ass the other Saturday. TD: You set him up? MW: Big time, baby. TD: And Shakespeare? [Marty looks down at his feet as the crowd being to boo, with a faint chant of "Billy! Billy!" starting.] MW: No... that is to say... I had to do what I did to set Reed up. Billy, I couldn't tell you. What was I supposed to do? Write my plan to you? To the President? The VP? This isn't a game, it's real life. I had to make it convincing, Billy. And my price to pay... Billy, remember all the good times? After last year's Snow Brawl? When you fell asleep at the wheel, and I saved our lives on that frozen road? The time I exposed that liar Edwina Osterhout? When she claimed to have had your baby? When I got some of Soundbite's blood to clear your name? I gambled on our friendship, Billy-boy. I thought you had more trust and respect in me... I guess not. [As the cameraman gets closer to Marty, a small tear is visible. Marty throws the crutch to the floor.] MW: Billy, you challenged me. I can't deal with that. You're the one person I never wanted to face in the ring. If it'll solve anything, then... as penance... take a crutch shot to my back, and let us be friends again. [The crowd cheers, expecting a vengeful Shakespeare. After a while, it is evident Billy either isn't in the arena... or doesn't care.] MW: So be it, Dross. With a heavy heart... Billy, your challenge is accepted. I don't want to fight you, you don't want to forgive. Snow Brawl, I'll be there. [With that, a "fan" storms the ring, only to be taken down by Dross in a textbook side Russian legsweep. The crowd literally inhales at such an unexpected display of skill by Dross. Marty leaves the ring and walks slowly backstage as the police arrive, Dross covering the fan for the three count. The shot switches back to the IIWF studios.] LM: That's right! At Snow Brawl we will se Marty Warnett take on Billy Shakespeare! Former friends, current enemies! VVE: Did you stay up all night thinking of that line? LM: On that note, let's talk about Derek Mota and... VVE: The results from War Room! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| REWIND: IIWF Wednesday War Room - [09/Jan/98] |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... - The Fabulous Ones drew with the Down Boys - The Prophets of Rage d. the Natural Predators by count out - Subway Psycho and Tony Starks d. the High Plains Drifters by pinfall - The Harlequins d. Licenced For Devastation by pinfall - Christopher Stonebreaker and Charles Scheffield had a no contest - Richard "Moxy" Blue d. Icehawk and Mark Destructo by pinfall - Timothy N. Turner and Derek Mota had a no contest - Joe Petrow d. Steve Manning by submission VVE: An incredible card with a number of interesting turn of events! The World Tag CHampions, the Lost Boyz, certainly made thier presence felt! The same can be said for Luke Steele, Lord Byron, and Stone... who seems to now be working for Richard Blue! LM: Let's not forget Derek Mota! VVE: Let's look at Saturday... LM: Not so fast! Roll the tape! [The shot opens in this very same IIWF Studios. Victoria and Larry are both there, though Larry looks like absolute hell. A caption reads: "Last Week on Countdown".] VVE: That's quite a resolution. Did you make any, Larry? LM: I will never drink again. VVE: Right now, you probably mean that. My resolution is to find somebody who can wear the IIWF World title with pride. I mean, we've got an excellent Cruiserweight Champ in Tim Turner, we will have a fantastic Intercontinental Champ in Duncan Macbeth, but no one to wear the World gold. Maybe when Derek Mota gets back from rehabilitation... [Cut back to live action.] VVE: Okay, okay! I plugged Mota as a potential World Champ! How was I supposed to know that he was going to turn his back on the men who graciously allowed him to share thier spotlight? Derek Mota made a cardinal mistake and there is no way that Duncan and Timothy are going to let him get away with it! LM: Why don't we get some comments directly from the Heatseeker? [We find ourselves in the apartment of Derek Mota in Toronto, Ontario. The place used to be sparsely furnished, but every time we see it there seems to be a little more to it. Bigger stereo, more paintings on the wall, and a trophy case that continually seems to be expanding. Mota is just letting Tim Dross in the living room as they both sit down on a long black leather couch. The TV is replaying scenes from Monday Musings, in particular, some key words from Duncan Macbeth...] "Derek Mota? Who the Jaysis is Derek Mota, mate?" [The cameraman switches back to the apartment.] TD: Derek ... I'm going to cut to the chase here. What you did on Saturday is one of the most ... disgusting things I've ever seen so far in my IIWF career. My big question is ... why? DM: Well Tim, I've had some time to think about it, and I've seen the damage I've done. The friendships I've broken. And the first thing I need to say is ... ... I'm sorry. [Derek's head just bows, and he truly looks ashamed over his actions.] TD: Sorry? After all that you come out and apologize? DM: Yeah. My whole reason for doing this was because of the fact that I would never be their friend. No matter what I did, it was always Macbeth and Turner, with Mota being the side bar. But I guess in the end, as I was setting them up, they took to me. And for that I apologize, and sincerely hope that they take me back. Forgiven, guys? TD: I don't think it's that easy, Derek! You betrayed your friends and humiliated them on national TV! Millions of people around the world got to see the new Intercontinental Champion get layed out and humiliated on what was supposed to be his night! He's not just going to forget about it! DM: You sure about that? [Mota reaches for the remote control and replays the scene with Macbeth once more.] "Derek Mota? Who the Jaysis is Derek Mota, mate?" DM: Obviously he's ready to forgive and forget. At least the forget part, that's for sure! I obviously hurt him! Real bad! You see, just look at the tape! He can't remember who I am! He obviously has amnesia!! TD: Amnesia? Come on, Derek! I can't believe you're that dumb! DM: Why don't you just shut your trap and listen for once, Dross? Macbeth... I'm sorry I hurt you. I wanna be your friend again. I wanna make it up to you. TD: Make it up? Good grief. [Dross is looking quite frustrated at this point.] DM: And to show you how sorry I am and that I wanna repay you for this terrible betrayal, I'm gonna make sure that my betrayal doesn't cost you the Intercontinental Title in any way. TD: What? DM: Dross, the man's obviously sick! He can't remember who I am! Do you think for one second that he's in the right shape to be defending his title tomorrow night? I don't think so. So Duncan, as a favor to you, my _friend_, I'm gonna be there at ringside and make sure that you don't lose your match, okay? TD: Derek, I can't believe this... how can a man change so much in only a few weeks? DM: Jealousy ... bitterness ... solitude ... betrayal ... is that enough for ya, Drossy? But anyways, it's all over now. Me and Macbeth and Turner, we're gonna be okay again. You just give it a few weeks. We got that big tag team match at Snow Brawl. I don't intend on losing it. I'm gonna help you out with your amnesia, big guy. Just gimme a few weeks, we'll get all of this sorted out again. Just you and me, man... ...best friends once more. [The interview ends as we see Derek Mota rewinding the tape once more, replaying the scene over and over again, as Mota almost appears to be in a trance. Fade.] VVE: This guy is absolutely crazy! Did you see what he pulled on Wednesday? I can't believe I ever said anything nice about him! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| PREVIEW: IIWF Saturday Night - [10/Jan/98] |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... LM: We've got one heck of a card coming tomorrow night! We're gearing up for Snow Brawl and things are getting really cool! VVE: Another late night witticism for my pathetic partner. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley and "Sanguinary" Steve Manning vs. Team Sychosys ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: This match has explosive written all over it! VVE: Some main event! Any match that features a loser like Quigley doesn't belong on the top of a card! Why isn't the match featuring two champions at the top? LM: This card has main events from top to bottom! Let's go to Chris Quigley for some words. [An isolated beach. Seagulls are flying through the air, searching for non-existant leftovers from non-existant people. The waves crash against the rocky shoreline. On the largest rock, sits the former IIWF Intercontinental Champion, wearing his tattered jean shorts and a Quickstrike t-shirt with the words, "Do or Die." in red on back. A pair of black Oakley shades cover his eyes, although most likely, there is no emotion evident in them to hide. The camera goes closer as Quigley stares off at the water as he speaks.] CQ: It's strange. I lost my title. I lost my respect. I lost the few remaining fans who still respected what I stood for. But the only thing that bothers me is, I let myself into a no-win situation, and it cost me everything I've ever done in my career. [Quigley skips a flat rock into the water, getting a good four skips before it sinks.] CQ: I guess I got a good dose of irony. I mean, it's only fitting that I never really lost my Intercontinental Title, considering most detractors insisted I never really defended it in the first place. Say what you will, about what I did to the prestige of the title, but during my reign as champion, there was _never_ as much attention paid to the Intercontinental scene as there was then. Duncan Macbeth is the champion now... [Quigley shrugs.] CQ: More irony for ya, I s'pose. The man who used to insult my skill. The man who didn't respect my legacy. The man who disguised his voice and called me late at night. The man who called me the "paper champion". Now he's a paper champion. No matter what, Macbeth. At least I _won_ the title cleanly. You couldn't even manage that. [He looks into the sky, as if looking back...] CQ: We've met three times. The first time, in that damn shower room where the ceiling nearly caved in and killed me. I had you in the Quickstriker then, and your head was under a half a foot of water. It took three bodies including yours for you to get the pin on me that time. [He nods.] CQ: The second time, Ring Wars IV, most say you had me beaten. Hell, I even admitted to you that in all probability, you did. But I can't guarantee it. You don't understand what makes me tick. You don't understand that my career means nothing to me unless it is successful, so for me to lie down, stop fighting, accept a loss and live to fight another day, is just useless. I might have kicked out of your little Claymore frankensteiner. I guess we'll never know. [Quigley shakes his head with disgust.] CQ: And then, the biggest farce in the history of the IIWF Intercontinental Championship. The rocket scientists who run the Federation decide Joe Petrow would be an excellent choice for a referee to call the match "right down the middle". Yeah, he was fair alright. He nearly broke Steve Manning's nose. He nearly blinded Timothy Turner, not that I really care. And then, he _screwed_ me out of the Championship. He decided who the Intercontinental Champion would be that night. And it didn't surprise me a bit. [Quigley jumps down from the rock, and begins to walk up the beach along the water.] CQ: I mean, c'mon... anyone who doesn't have their head up their ass realizes "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley would _not_ submit. I've wrestled for years without saying the words "I Quit." Then I get this jackass with some sort of warped vendetta against me, and he claims I never responded to his question. I screamed the word "no" four times, Petrow -- then, instead of concentrating on answering the damn "referee" who was in my face asking me the same question every two seconds, I decided it might be better if I concentrated on getting out of the God damn move. I guess that was a mistake. Petrow obviously wanted me to have my spine snapped, and if I tried to resist, if I tried to break free, he decided he'd strip me of my title instead. But, y'know what, Petrow? [Chris grabs a large rock from the ground, and hurls it at a larger boulder laying there, smashing the smaller rock to pieces.] CQ: The kid gloves are off. I've had it up to here with everybody but myself deciding whether I win matches or not. I'm the best damn wrestler the IIWF has ever seen. I blitzed Kauffman. I pounded Deathbringer. I beat both Brody Thunder and his old pal Kowalski. And now it's your turn, Petrow. You wanted to see how far I'd take this thing? You ain't seen nothin' yet. You're gonna _wish_ you were back on the receiving end of a Skullpump after you see what I've got waiting for you. Bring your kiwis. Bring the jobber for life that you salvaged. Bring the damn blow-up doll. I'll shove each and every one of them up your ass sideways, until you've got to walk back to Japan bowlegged. [Quigley removes his shades, and glares hard into the camera.] CQ: I made a vow to myself when I first started wrestling, that when it was all said and done, I could proudly say I never, _ever_ lost a match by submission. I told myself that if the day came where I gave a match up on my own will, I would retire immediately. There are just some things in life you don't mess with, Petrow. And that vow I made to myself is one of them. I ain't ready to retire just yet, but I suggest you consider it as an option, before it turns out to be your only choice. [Quigley turns his back on the camera, the words "Do or Die." aiming directly at the screen, as the scene fades to black.] LM: Chris Quigley is geared up for this conflict! Joe Petrow was uncharacteristicly silent this week... VVE: Are you crazy? What do you call "Thursday Sychosys", or whatever it was? This guy blabbed for a full hour! LM: Ixnay on the Ursdaythay! That wasn't a sanctioned show! VVE: You're as pathetic as Quigley! Hey Petrow! It took mace for you to put down Turner! It took breaking and entering to put you on television! It's a good thing you've only got an ex-champ this week! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ALL TITLES ARE ON THE LINE: Duncan Macbeth and "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner vs. "Enigma" Takezo Musashi and Ronnie Paris ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: The next match pits two of the champions of the IIWF against two men who can't stand each other and will be facing off at Snow Brawl! VVE: Musashi and Paris don't have a chance in this match! Even if they were a well-oiled machine they wouldn't be able to beat to wrestling gods like Duncan and Timothy! LM: All the participants had comments about this match so let's go to the tape! [SCENE: Inside Timothy N. Turner's fishing cabin near Ucluelet, British Columbia, Duncan Macbeth sits in front of a roaring fire, the Intercontinental Championship belt resting on the mantle, reviewing a tape of last Tuesday's "Inside The IIWF" on the VCR. The Intercontinental Champion, clad in a thick Cowichan sweater and jeans, leans forward in an easy chair, and unconsciously runs his hand along his face where Derek Mota kicked him in the head with his cast-wrapped foot after his title victory. The bruise has all but disappeared, but Macbeth still winces as he watches the double-cross play out in slow motion on the tape. The champ listens with interest to Mota's rant as the unconscious Macbeth and Turner lie motionless in the aisle, then pauses the tape and turns to the camera, glowering into the lens.] DM: Ye jus' couldn't take it, could ye, Derek? Ye couldn't take bein' th' odd man out of th' three o' us. [Macbeth reaches behind him to where a tumbler of Talisker single malt rests on an end table, and takes a sip of the golden spirit.] Ye ken, it makes perfect sense. It's always been ye and me, ever since th' two o' us set foot in th' IIWF, hasn't it. Ye wanted t' be th' hot rookie, an' ye weren't worried about Sampson, so who _did_ ye worry about? Who did ye have t' get rid of, t' show ye were th' best? Me. Tha's who. Only ye _couldn't_ get rid o' me, could ye? Ye took a shot at me, an' ye got it righ' back, an' then some, th' very next week. Then came th' "Future Bowl", an' who was th' first o' us t' be eliminated? Ye. Tha's who. Ye were sae pissed at tha', after all th' tough talk ye'd been borin' us all with beforehand, tha' ye had t' backstab me again, sae tha' Sampson would win instead o' me. 'Cause ye KNEW I'd beat 'im, did ye no'? [Macbeth swirls the Scotch in the tumbler, staring into the glass thoughtfully, then continues.] Ye came around after tha', an' I started t' think ye weren't such a bad egg after all. Maybe I thought ye had some respect fer me, after I took yuir abuse week after week and still managed t' pin ye at Birthday Bash. I certainly respected ye fer th' stand ye took against those tossers, Genesis. And aye, we managed t' have some good times, bikin' 'round th' States an' raisin' some hell together. But I never forgot, Mota. In th' back o' me mind, ye were _still_ th' thievin' backstabbin' wee punk tha' I knew when I first came t' th' IIWF. I hoped I was wrong about ye. But unfortunately fer me, I'm usually an impeccable judge o' character. [Macbeth sets down the glass and leans into the camera, his jade-green eyes flashing in the firelight.] Aye, ye backed me up many a time, an' I thank ye fer tha'. But think on it man, when did I ever ASK fer yuir assistance? Not once, an' tha's as it should be! Jus' as YE never once came up t' me an' said "Duncan, I need yuir help against these guys, can ye help me out?". An' tha's as it should be, too. But I was _always_ there, Mota. Ye cannae deny it. Th' problem wi' YE is tha' ye don't need backup more than ye need a bleedin' BABYSITTER, wha'! Ye're all pissed off 'cause Quigley kicked yuir arse, well, what th' Jaysis were ye doin' wrestlin' with a broken ankle? Tha's no' guts, it's jus' bleedin' STUPIDITY! D'ye expect me t' save ye if ye decide ye're goin t' walk across th' I-90, or step in front o' an' Amtrak train, jus' sae ye can show everybody wha' a tough wee bastard ye are? Time an' again ye've created yuir own catastrophes, an' ye expect yuir mates t' bail ye out when they get too hard t' handle. An' we always do. We've _all_ takin' lumps fer each other, sae come off wi' this bollocks about me or Tim no' bein' there fer ye. [Macbeth grins, the flickering glow from the fireplace throwing eerie shadows across his angular features.] Let's focus on th' real issue, "Heatseeker". We were a band o' mates, no' quite a "stable", mind, but a group nonetheless, fer a few months now. Tim became th' Cruiserweight champ, an' now I'm th' Intercontinental Champion. An' where does tha' leave Derek Mota? Ye're sae used t' bein' th' centre o' attention wherever ye go, tha' ye didn't ken wha' t' do when ye were associatin' wi' people who got more attention then ye, did ye? Tim had a title -- yuir title -- an' was, an' still is, th' talk o' th' town. I was th' number one contender fer th' IC title fer bleedin' EVER, gettin' lots o' air time an' press. An' th' "Heatseeker" was ice-cold. Couldn't even manage t' get ranked t' win back 'is Cruiserweight belt. No feuds, no heat, no nothin'. Poor lad. Then I won th' Intercontinental Title, an' tha' was th' last straw, wasn't it? Ye knew THEN tha' ye were _never_ goin' t' be th' big man o' th' three o' us. As if Tim an' I ever cared about tha' sort o' thing. Sae ye quit, an' ye did it in a despicable, cowardly manner that would bring ye back some o' th' attention ye've been starvin' fer. Well, ye've got me attention NOW, Mota. An' ye're goin' t' get all th' heat ye've ever wanted. An' then some. Ye're goin' t' be _sweatin'_ from it, wha'. [Macbeth turns back to the television, which is frozen on a shot of Tim Dross and Steve "Soundbite" Roberts in the Arm Bar in Portland. Macbeth plays the tape once again, listening to Dross' and Roberts' commentary.] TD: [on tape] ...Duncan Macbeth, the fighting Scotsman who may have worked harder over the last three months than any IIWF superstar, has received the reward he has long coveted -- the Intercontinental Championship.  SR: [on tape] Yeah... but he got soft, Dross.  I've seen it over the last couple of months... [Macbeth snickers, and pauses the tape again, turning back to the camera with a burning glint in his eyes.] DM: We'll see, Soundbite. We'll see. [Macbeth pops the tap out of the VCR and replaces it with one showing highlights of the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi and Ronnie Paris in action, preparing for his tag match with Tim Turner, and first IC title defense, tomorrow night. The camera pulls back from Macbeth and pans across to a shot of the Intercontinental Title belt resting on the mantlepiece, remounted onto a royal blue leather strap and glittering in the orange firelight. The camera pans over to where the IIWF Cruiserweight strap sits next to it. The two belts look _very_ comfortable in that site. Then the camera pulls back to catch Timothy N. Turner entering the cabin.] TNT: Hey, don't shut that thing off! The Rocket Man has something to say! This Saturday night the fans of the IIWF will get a real treat. The two top performers in the sport will get in the ring together to take down Musashi and Paris. I've beaten Paris so bad that I'm surprised he would sign for this. Ah well. I always knew he was stupid. Musashi looks to be pretty good...but he's no Rocket Man! When Duncan and I are done with these two fools they won't be able to make Snow Brawl for thier little match! Not that anyone will care. Everyone will be buying Snow Brawl to see what will happen when Duncan and I team with Derek Mota. I don't want to spoil the surprise but... what the heck! All three of us will survive. There is no way we can be beaten by the fossils that they are putting us in with. Then we will face off and Derek will be quickly beaten to a pulp. That's it. Mota, stay out of my way until Snow Brawl. Then I'll kill you. [Fade] [SCENE: A darkened trash littered alleyway. Moonlight slants down from above, iluminating the spidery graffiti adorning the chipped and filthy brick walls; the dented and discarded trash cans, and the bits of rubbish whipped along the ground by the brisk night air. A solitary figure walks down the narrow expanse, sending grotesque shadows flitting up the towering stone walls. The figure is attired in a leather jacket and faded blue jeans, and as he moves closer to the camera, a beam of moonlight briefly illuminates his face: it is the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi. Devoid of face paint, the Enigma's expression reflects one part increduality, and one part anger.] TM: Is this some kind of sick joke? Obviously, the official who designated my match for tomorrow night is the new boy in the office... either that or he's possessed of a perverse sense of humour. Teaming the Enigma up with Ronnie Paris? Teaming a man of courage and fighting spirit up with a man of cowardice and feeble substance? Teaming up the future of the IIWF with the future of the Jobber Justice Squad? The warrior and the lowly scullion... this is truly a contradiction of a tag team. When I've railed ever since my comeback for the title shots I deserve, when I've fought all this time for a chance at the glory and the gold I yearn to grasp... this is how they finally give it to me. Timothy N Turner - a man who is a stain of dishonour on a title belt that was once prestigious around my waist - and Duncan MacBeth... they must be laughing all the way to the Coliseum. What threat can two men who are more concerned with tearing each other into shreds possibly pose to them? [Musashi's eyes suddenly take on a hardened glint and his expression twists into a scowl.] Well, let me set you straight on the matter, my friends. If you expect an easy night from the Enigma, you had best correct your misjudgement. If you expect to walk out of the Coliseum unharmed, you had best prepare for a long period of restitution - for nobody leaves a ring inhabited by the Enigma unscathed. I don't give a damn about my "partner". I'll take him out before the match has even begun and battle you both by myself. One at a time, or both at once... it makes no difference to me. I thrive when the odds are stacked in the favour of my enemies. Duncan Macbeth, you are a courageous warrior, of that I have no doubt. Why you choose to ally yourself with a weak opportunist like TNT is a mystery to me. He is a parasite on your strength. We both shine above our partners as samurai above the rabble, MacBeth - but don't be fooled. I won't... I never have and I never will - allow my respect for a worthy opponent to cloud my vision. Expect no subdual in the intensity of the Enigma. I fight as I always have - with the raging fury of a crushing tsunami, or with the overflowing aggression of an army at war. When I step out of the ring tomorrow night, I expect to leave behind me a trail of broken enemies... and I expect the Intercontinental gold to reside within my hands. Duncan Macbeth, it will not be long before the name of the Enigma is firmly inscribed upon your skull. [Musashi pauses, and surveys the ugly, murky surroundings of the alleyway.] Ronnie Paris -- let us not fool ourselves. There is no way that we can be permitted to co-operate with each other. We despise each other far too much for that. I despise you for your weak willed cowardice and lack of spirit; you despise me because I am a man of greater stature than yourself. I don't expect to work with you in harmony, but I warn you now... ...Come between me and my chance at the gold, and you shall feel the slashing steel of my deadly rage one week early... then you shall feel it once again at Snow Brawl. You see this concrete jungle around me? [Musashi gestures about himself] This is an apt symbol for the konton na tamashii that resides within me... the konton na tamashii that exploded in fury against you last Saturday night. The cold brutality, the lack of compassion and the survival of the fittest ethic of these streets pulsates through the veins of my chaos spirit... it strikes out from within me when the iron is hot; when the enmity in my heart is deep. Ronnie Paris, this goes beyond a mere climb up the ladder of contention... beyond the confines of the IIWF. This is two men fuelled by hatred... fuelled by a hatred of everything that the other man stands for. It is the oldest battle, and the one most enduring. It is the battle that stretches beyond the random chance of fate and into destiny. It is the battle of life and death... My life. Your death. [The camera slowly closes in Musashi's face, his eyes appearing to smoulder with an inner fire. The picture focuses with striking detail on the two raging orbs, and then fades out.] [Open to a still shot from last week's Saturday Night, where a tear is rolling down Ronnie Paris' cheek as he sees the face of his father, unconscious. The shot remains frozen as sentimental music you might expect to hear as the theme of a Hallmark special pipes in a bit too loudly. Cut then to Ronnie Paris standing in a decaying arena that was obviously designed around WWI. The arena is empty, but an old wrestling ring stands in the middle of the floor, set up and ready to use. Paris sits in a ringside seat, and begins to speak.] RP: This place, and arenas like it, is what the Paris clan has always been all about. This place defines my father's career and his father's career. And suddenly, people say it doesn't define me. Well, my reply? What do you say after hitting your father with a steel chair? After turning back on decades of legacy and tradition. [A devilish grin crosses the young Texan's face, as he winks to the camera.] RP: You say "Get the hell out of my way, because you ain't seen nothing yet!" Dad, you say I threw away tradition... you're damn right I did. Because it never did a thing for me. Because _you_ never did a thing for me. Places like this do define you... old, out of shape, pretty much useless. I, on the other hand, turn away from "the great tradition", and what do I get? [Pause as Paris pretends to mull his own question over.] RP: I get a ladder match on the top of the Snow Brawl card. I get a shot at two titles in one night. I get recognition, I get respect, I get wins, and I get cash... God, do I love the cash! I used to know exactly what you and Dan and Dave meant when you talked about there not being opportunities in American wrestling... but now I see you were just too damn lazy to make them! But enough about my family, no one cares about them. Lord knows I don't, I just want to relay one message to Takezo Musashi... one little thing. [Paris' eyes begin to blaze with a fire rarely seen anymore since his "turn". He sounds dead serious.] RP: We're going to have to work together Saturday Night. If you screw this up, you have seven days to start praying. Pick a god. [Fade as Paris returns to his more jovial, flippant self, laughing at his father's male pattern baldness.Fade.] VVE: At the risk of repeating myself...they have no chance. Period. LM: I have to admit that things look to be stacked in the favour of Macbeth and Turner but...anything can happen in... VVE: Don't say it! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Serge Annis vs. Mad Dog Watkins ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: What a heated battle this is going to be! Watkins cost Annis his chance to be the World Champion, and don't think for a second that the evil one has forgotten it! VVE: This could almost be the match the decides who the next top contender is going to be! Since Thunder is conveniently ignoring his challenge to Timmy, one of these two has got to be next after Kowalski. LM: Assuming Kowalski doesn't beat Thunder first. VVE: Please. [Scene: The bulky figure of Mad Dog Watkins can be seen, silhouetted in the dark of the IIWF Coliseum while seated in the last row of the upper deck. This is footage from an earlier flash from MDW's career... right after his IIWF debut in fact. A montage of his words slowly fade in and out...] MDW: Bring it on... anytime and anywhere... I've forgotten more than any of you punks here in the IIWF have ever known... It's the dawn of a new era... and this dog will have his day... [The picture of MDW fades to black and then the scene errupts in a face paced montage of his first tenure in the IIWF. As the package begins to play, "Super Bon Bon" by Soul Coughing begins to play... the bass line heavily thumping as the actions fly across the screen.] # Move aside and let the man go through # [Footage of Watkins fighting a virtual "Who's Who" of the IIWF from the past year... a spinebuster on Steve Kowlaski, a vicious clothesline to the back of the head of the red-gloved rookie Creed... a flurry of punches to the head of a dazed Lord Byron... Brody Thunder falling to a crushing chairshot at the hands of Watkins... finally, Watkins thrusting his hand up high -- his just won Intercontinental Championship held aloft in his other hand.] # Move aside and let the man go through # VO: Mad Dog Watkins... one of the toughest men ever to grace an IIWF ring. [The shot of Watkins with the IC belt are followed by one of Creed laying in the ring following the match, hurt and betrayed -- followed by one of Watkins smirking and laughing deviously at the pup.] VO: Not to mention one of the most devious... [Shots of Watkins's surprise return at the Kowalski/Thunder/Annis match from IIWF Saturday Night barrage the screen next.] VO: Was anyone really surprised in retrospect to see Watkins return in such a spectacular way? [The image of Annis being laid out by a devastating spinebuster replays over and over...and over...and over...and over...as the music cranks up a notch.] # MOVE ASIDE AND LET THE MAN COME THROUGH... LET THE MAN COME THROUGH # [The video slowly comes to a stop with the music stopping abruptly -- the shot ending frozen on a shot of Annis violently hitting the canvas. Cut back to a silhouetted shot of Watkins in a darkened IIWF Colliseum sitting in the same seat as the earlier flash. The only difference is that that was then, this is now...January 1998] MDW: Hey Annis. I've come full circle...I sat here in Novemeber 1996... talking trash as I was set to debut. And here I sit now as I make my return. Only difference is then -- I didn't know what to expect. Old veteran, new fed. This time, I know exactly what I'm getting into. Old veteran, same old fed... only this time it's filled with trash, both new and old. And you are the biggest piece of trash here. You think you really have made something out of yourself while I've been gone, don't you? New hardcore legend... man to be feared? Well, Anus...I ain't scared. And I ain't running anywhere. Come Saturday Night, we've got a date. A date with pain. I'll put that new reputation of yours to the test -- and I'm guessing you're going to fail. [Watkins runs his large hand through his burly goatee, sits back and smiles wickedly...almost laughing. Fade.] LM: The real question is, who is the sickest wrestler in the IIWF? VVE: El Super Gecko. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare vs. "To Excess" Rick Williams ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: The next match features the man who was the reason you ran off last week. So have you signed Williams to team with Turner? VVE: This next match features one of the best new finds in the IIWF, next to me. He will take apart Billy Shakespeare and throw him out with the trash. End of story. LM: It's true that Williams is very impressive, but don't count out a man as tough as Shakespeare! VVE: Who? [Billy Shakespeare stands in the lighting booth in the rafters of an old theatre. He leans against an antiquated followspot, the orange flame of it 5000 watt bulb barely gleaming in its innards.] BS: The spotlight, cherished by so many, deserved of by so few. Rick Williams, when first you entered this fed, you droned on about how the spotlight was yours..and yours alone. You remember how I replied. It may be a little late in coming...but the spotlight, rather, "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare...is coming your way. My plan is to give you much illumination into the IIWF. To shed some light on you confusion: You can't hide when you're in the eye of the "Spotlight". It's a funny thing about these beauties. [He pats the lighting instrument respectfully] Everybody wants one, but when they're there, they complain that the bulb's too bright. They complain that they could get blinded by looking into it too long. How about it, Rick? Ready for the challenge? If it were so easy to perform in its beam... then everyone would be there. But they're not. I am. I am "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare. I am "Born to Perform". You? You're just another frightened deer about to freeze in the glare of the lights. As scribed in Julius Caesar "Away, slight man!" [The spotlight suddenly powers up, its warming glow becoming a white hot nova which momentarily blinds both the camera and the viewers.] [Scene opens to an overhead shot of the IIWF Coliseum. Almost eerily quiet, only the sight of one lone figure breaks the monotony of the thousands of seats. As the camera slowly begins to focus on the figure, his identity becomes unmistakeable. Dressed in blue jeans and a black shirt, "To Excess" Rick Williams places his feet on the seat in front, as his gum-chewing habit is once again in full evidence. With his arms behind his head, Williams is a picture of arrogance, as he begins to speak.] RW: So... the plot thickens, huh? Maybe good ol' President Dan is finally giving "To Excess" a little credit, after all? Maybe President Dan has even come round to my way of thinking, after all this time? Sure, it's taken a little time, but hey, Rome wasn't built in a day now, was it? In fact considering Spreadbury's naturally self-righteous nature, a two-month conversion is bordering on minor miracle territory. [Continuing to chew relentlessly, Williams contemplates his preceding comments.] You know, maybe I haven't always been overly complimentary about dear old Dan, in the past, but when the announcement of Saturday Night's card was made, I came to a whole new understanding of our good president. You see, by signing Rick Williams to face Billy Shakespeare, he's proven to me that he's on my side.... he's as keen as me to banish the IIWF's very own versions of the dinosaur and the dodo. Don't worry, _President_... the complete destruction of Billy Shakespeare will be accomplished tomorrow night. You see, Billy, it's a real shame, but you fall into a category of people I don't like -- Men, who've had their chance at the top of our sport... but who now, are nothing but old men, way past their prime, who refuse to accept that their time has come. Why, if the truth be known, Billy, you're now almost as far past your prime as Subway Psycho. Isn't _that_ a scary thought? [Williams smirks arrogantly before spitting the stick of gum a couple of inches past the camera lens.] And on that subject, _President_... When I finish off Shakespeare for you, how about you stop the Subway Psycho from hiding from "To Excess" behind whatever evasion tactics he can find? How about asking your one-time _champion_ to stop hiding behind Starks and behind the... "Oh, I'm a tag team wrestler now" excuse? How about it _President_... an eye for an eye... a tooth for a tooth? [Williams winks arrogantly at the camera as screen fades back to the studio.] LM: I guess that answers my previous question. VVE: Who's in the next match? ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Lord Byron and Deathbringer vs. Meatman and "Real Deal" Luke Steele ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: The Steeles take on a very unlikely duo. VVE: No, Becky has an unlikely duo, these two guys are just examples of wrestlers who don't know when to ahng them up. LM: Neither Byron or Deathbringer had comments on this match but both the Steeles did. [Meatman appears superimposed in front of IIWF logo.] MEATMAN: Last Saturday night, when the pain and the blood stopped pounding through my ears, I looked up and saw my meaty palm on the chest of Lord Byron and I saw the ref's hand come down for the "three." I thought about when my Daddy used to take me to the cockfights. Two roosters in a pit. Fight stops when one pecks the eyeballs out of another's skull. Men scream and curse and smoke stogies and money changes hands. Does a third cock get thrown in the pit before the fight is won? No. Do three or four cocks charge the pit because one of the roosters ripped their gonads off? No. No. Because it is a noble sport, gentlemen. Cockfighting, like pitbull fighting, prison rape, and snuff films, are cut and dry. No spoilers, no run-ins, just winners and losers. This crap is what makes pro-wrasslin' a joke! Keeps the oldest sport in history on channel 92 at 6am while pansies in kneepads make millions of dollars throwin' a damn ball around. I won the match. I'm undefeated. I ain't yell "quit" in that damn Aristoclutch, and no man's seen me yell "quit" yet. I know my meat. I know what it takes to snap a tendon. I know what it takes to break a bone. Byron, you were cheated, but that don't mean you coulda, woulda, shoulda. You ain't beat "The Meat." I stick a fork in you, you're DONE! Yer medium well done, because next Saturday night, me and Luke Steele are gonna take you and the Dead Meat Bringer on. ...but the night before the match, I want you -- and you too, Maggot Meat -- to take a little bowl, mix in some vinegar and some mustard then sit in it until the match, because The Meatman is gonna TENDERIZE your ass! Meat, meat, meat, meat, meat!!! [Cut to placard which reads:] Call for entries. 1st Annual Steele Family Farms Meatman Challenge "A Gyro's Journey" One wrestler will be chosen to face the Meatman in an epic test of mettle. Day and Time to be Arranged. [Scene: Outside of a meat packing plant in Green Bay, Wisconsin. The snow falls lightly in front of the camera, and business goes on as usual as a group of large, sweaty men load wrapped packages of meat onto the back of a truck. As this is captured by the camera, a low voice is heard:] "Quite a sight, isn't it?" [The camera quickly moves to the left, and there next to the truck stands Luke Steele, wearing a long winter coat, black baseball cap and blue jeans. He smiles at the camera.] LS: Of all the places you thought you'd see the Real Deal, did you ever expect to see him here? Since ol' Luke has a tag match with the Meatman of the IIWF, I thought it a good idea to get inside my partner's head and see where he's coming from. You see, Jimmy Steele comes from the tradition of blue collar workers. And for that, I applaud him. Hell, my old man was a factory worker himself. As a matter of fact, that brings up an interesting point that's been discussed to death lately. A lot of you people out there are wondering if Jimmy and I are related. Well stop wondering, because we are _not_. I'm no more related to the Meatman than I am to Steve Roberts. [Luke leans back against the truck and whistles. The steam is visible to the camera, an indication of the temparature.] LS: Damn it's cold down here, and yet these guys [motions to the men still loading meat onto the truck] just keep right at it. You have to admire them for their determination and focus. Lots of people have said the same thing about Luke Steele, especially since I've gotten on such a roll. It isn't easy being the hardest worker in the sport, but I've lived up to the task thus far. At Snow Brawl it would seem that I've yet again been paired up with some random teammates. If there's one person who knows how to deal with those, it's the Real Deal. At least this time there's reason to go out and try, because a title shot is around the corner for the man who can deal with his teammates and then toss their asses out of the ring. Jimmy Steele, we're on opposite teams at Snow Brawl, and yet the same team this Saturday Night. That's no coincidence. But I'll pledge my loyalty to you for one night, Meatman. Can you do the same? I assisted you last Saturday, and I'm willing to bet that you want the win just as much as I do. On the flip side, there's the Deathbringer. The Dark Destroyer. We're on opposite sides of the ring this coming weekend, yet we're teamed up in a few weeks. Same deal 'Bringer, same deal. We've gotta work together at the pay per view, so there's no need to engage in combat on Saturday. I guess that leaves Byron. Lord B., I fought and beat you a few weeks ago with the move that some now call the Brit Killer. My partner, Jungle Jim Steele, beat you last weekend. You face Deathbringer and myself at the pay per view. I guess you're kinda all alone, aren't you? Well, there's always Milady. See you Saturday Night, B. [Fade down to black.] LM: I think that these two have a distinct advantage as they seem to be travelling on the same wavelenght whilt the other two wrestlers in this match couldn't be more different. VVE: Most of the best tag teams are a big guy and a little guy. Just ask Steve Roberts. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Triple Threat Match Shadoe Rage vs. Tragedy vs. Edmund Fitzgerald ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: Here is a match that is going to be volatile! VVE: Oh boy. Once again ex-tag team guys try to prove themselves as singles wrestlers by beating on other ex-tag team guys. When are these guys going to wake up and see that they won't be taken seriously until they face some true singles talent...like Dan Oliver! LM: And like we promised at the top of the hour, we have on the phone, Tragedy of the Harlequins. Hello, Tragedy. [A caption appears on the screen: "On the line: Tragedy".] HT: Morton, Ms. Von Edwards. VVE: Tragedy. LM: Thanks for joining us, Tragedy. Now let's quickly get to this weekend. You will be facing Shadoe Rage and Edmund Fitzgerald in a triple threat match. Now in the past two weeks you faced each man in singles competition. What do you plan to do going into this encounter? HT: Well, that's a good question, Larry. I think it would be safe to say that I'm probably going to get double-teamed in this match. Shadoe and Fitzgerald want to get into contention for a title and out of the three of us, I'm the only one that can get a shot. LM: That is true, you are the #4 contender for the Cruiserweight Championship, and Rage and Fitzgerald aren't even ranked. That may be in part due to your reputation as a singles competitor prior to your run at the tag belts. HT: That's true, and that's a fact that Rage and Fitz are ignorant to. I was feuding with men like Lord Byron, Otto Verhoeven and Chris Herforth long before the IIWF ever heard of the Prophets or Cold Spell. Chaos was around then, but I was still pretty much a singles wrestler. LM: In fact you had some great battles against men no one thought you could beat, like Otto Verhoeven. HT: I have three wins on him -- two singles, one tag. Not bad for a man that weighs 220 pounds. VVE: Some would say you have the advantage then going into tomorrow. You've stood your own against the best the IIWF has to offer, plus you have your stable. LM: That's true, and due to the fact that your stable comprises of family members, your stable is more... HT: ...stable? LM: I guess you can say that. HT: I happen to be lucky to be able to work with people I know I can trust unequivocably. My brother has been with me for seventeen years, my wife loves me unconditionally and Melody's like a sister to her. My cousin Terror really wants to prove himself to me, so he works hard to get ahead. VVE: That's more than we can say about some of the other stables here. HT: True, I'm kind of dissapointed in the way the Age of Rage turned out. With Shadoe leaving. He had a lot that he could draw from, but he's wasting his chance. I can respect that fact that he wants to win his own matches, but the IIWF is hardly a safe place for a loner. LM: Speaking of safe, both your wife and Melody have taken some hits in the past few weeks. Can you afford to bring them to ringside? HT: Most people in the IIWF forget this, but Comedy and Melody are expereinced wrestlers. They have been in worse situations. My wife has been hit by chairs, gone through tables and fallen off ladders. Fitzgerald couldn't make it to the top of the ESWP women's division, let alone hurt my wife. VVE: He's still angry over the fireball incident last year. I thought that was settled. HT: It was, Comedy and Icehawk made their peace when the Cold Quins were formed. And in the time after that I came to respect 'Hawk for the competitor he is. When Cold Quins split, it was because I chose my family over my partner. I think 'Hawk understood. But I can't say the same for Fitzgerald. LM: There's something wrong with him. HT: Did you see how he was crying last week? LM: Sure did. HT: If I had to face me, I'd cry too. [Morton and Von Edwards laugh.] HT: Seriously, I think that there is something wrong with him. I mean, this guy's father dies in a shipwreck, and he blames his old man for dying. Then he tries pushing Icehawk around, forcing him into Genesis. Now, whenever Icehawk tries to talk some sense into him, he cries like a baby so 'Hawk will let up on him. Fitzgerald is going to self destruct soon. I just hope he doesn't take a good young talent down with him. LM: Well, we're running out of time. Any thoughts on the other Harlequins' match tomorrow? HT: The twelve man? Well, on one side you have The New Prophets, The Predators and The Harlequins. On the other side, a bunch of prelims that have no business in the ring. I don't know about Derek and Dirt Dog, but Chaos and Terror repsect the Predators. I think we'll see a good match with our side winning. LM: Well, that's all the time we have. Thanks again for joining us Tragedy. HT: My pleasure. VVE: Bye Tragedy. HT: Take care guys. [Click!] LM: The ever demented Shadoe Rage has the following comments. [Fade in: Shadoe Rage practices his whirling dervish routine, leaping balletically in the ring, springing off the ropes, flipping, flying, dancing, dodging, lashing out with lightning fast kicks and powerful combinations. From outside Marissa looks on, studying his every move, memorising them, being mesmerised by them. Her eyes glow with a fierce pride, a love, admiration. Shadoe spins and tucks, weaving, his body a blur now. He's in a rhythm, a zone, a zen frame of mind. Finally he comes to a stop, the energy of his body diverted to his mind.] SR: The Tragedy of the Edmund Fitzgerald. That's what they'll call this match. Two sacrificial lambs slaughtered at the altar of the angel of Death. There is no more fitting end to the aspirations of two former tag-team wrestlers who just can't get over the need to have their partners with them at ringside. Chainsaws? Oars? Hails of fish. I promise you, the Angel of Death shall bring pestillence and plague down upon your heads. They will cry out for mercy from below. For I have looked down ... Tragedy ... Fitzgerald ... and I have seen you to be wanting. And from the school of the truth. When the Angel of Death comes knocking on your door this Saturday night I will bring you not love, not victory, but agony, pain and destruction. You will ... DIE IN DARKNESS!!! [Fade] LM: Will this be the match that catapaults one of these athletes into the spotlight? VVE: No. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The Natural Predators, Prophets of Rage, and Harlequins vs. Down Boys, Fabulous Ones, and Licenced For Devastation ----------------------------------------------------------------------- VVE: Too many bodies. They should have made this a battle royal because there is no way that any control will be maintained. LM: This match does look like chaos in the making. They need to have strong officiating to overcome these problems. VVE: Like Joe Petrow? [Lights come up on Tim Dross, sitting across from Kuyler Greyson in a rather dimly lit gym.] TD: Hello fans, today I have the privilege of interviewing Kuyler Greyson, manager of the Natural Predators. Kuyler, I don't think you and I have ever had this opportunity before. KG: Well, Chris Garrison has been interviewing us since he was published in SHOOT!, a multinational wrestling magazine, with an interview he had taped with the Predators a while back. I'm glad to see he's had some freelance work as of late. It's an honor to finally draw your attention, Mr. Dross. TD: I suppose the first and foremost question on everyone's minds is, "Why haven't the Predators faced the Lost Boyz yet?" KG: Well, look at who they've faced. LFD, who was, at that point, unranked. Saturday they face Subway Psycho and Tony Starks, likewise unranked. By facing opponents who they take as lesser challenges, they get a chance to tool themselves up for Snow Brawl, and a team who will have fought through every other team in the IIWF to get hold of them. The Predators will get their match at Snow Brawl. TD: Over every other team? Seems to me like the IIWF tag team situation has left very few people as allies...and a lot of people wanting the number one ranking your boys have achieved. [Kuyler smiles, shifting his weight a little.] KG: Yeah. We fought long and hard to get it, and there are a lot of teams who are after us. Every match is for keeps, Tim. You can't overlook anyone these days. TD: Such as...? KG: I think that Tony Starks and the Subway Psycho are legit contenders ranked or not. If I weren't training my boys, I would try and find a team like that to manage. Two tough vets who know their way around the ring. Never say die. [Tim smiles, chuckling a bit at this.] TD: I didn't think you watched the careers of others while you were still active yourself. KG: You know, it's funny. I think that half the time, managers are so out of touch they don't know anyone's skills save their own wrestlers. I do extensive scouting on other wrestlers, went back to when I was active. I wrestled in eight or nine leagues in my career. Never know who you'll have to face and when. TD: I understand why you were awarded the Best New Manager award. This Saturday night, the Predators ally themselves with the Harlequins and Prophets of Rage against Licensed for Devestation, the Down Boys or Damage Inc, and the Fabulous Ones. [Kuyler looks a little less happy.] How do you feel about your boys' tag partners? KG: I think it's an odd choice, but one the fans will certainly enjoy. Out of the five teams involved in this match with my boys, the Down Boys, were our closest allies...and we've faced both our "partners" in the space of a week in competition. Down Boys don't like the Fabs and EVERYONE hates LFD. TD: Since we've gotten to the subject, what are your opinions? Team by team? We'll start with the Harlequins. KG: They're not as important as they think they are. We reached the #1 contender slot without facing them one on one. And when we did, we beat them. Maybe it makes them feel important. They're good, but I think their best days are behind them. TD: Down Boys. KG: Carnival sideshow. But deadly. You put them with Joe Petrow, and you have maybe the deadliest three comic characters in the IIWF. Maybe they should try to be the Harlequins instead of DI. TD: Fabulous Ones. KG: Better than their gimmick... not as good as they think. We all get a good sized paycheck, and we've all had great histories in competition, otherwise the IIWF wouldn't sign us. And there is such a thing as being too pretty. Ms. Miki has a talented team on her hands... she should emphasize that more than their pretty boy image. TD: Licensed for Devestation. [Kuyler's brow furrows] KG: Sorry, I don't consider them to be a legit tag team. They don't put forth the effort to win, just aiming to hurt people. Not what it's about. TD: The Lost Boyz. [Kuyler pauses, looks up] KG: The best team in the sport. They have the championships. By whatver means they procured it, they have defended those titles and proven that they are willing to defend the right to call themselves the "Best of the best". I don't like their methods. But until my boys pin them, until those titles are elsewhere, they're the champs. TD: I'm a little surprised at your response... [Kuyler smiles] KG: We all want to be the best there is, Tim. My boys have to know from the start that you have to earn the title of being the best just as surely as you earn a belt. [Tim smiles, turning the page.] TD: Team Sychosys. KG: All right, I'm a traditionalist. Joe Petrow is bouncing around and making his ring magic work for him. I respect his skill. The key to beating him is to keep focused. I think he's legit certifiable. He wants Team Sychosys in the Tag Royale, and yet he has a submission only match against Chris Quigley later that night. He's brave, for sure. But I think he's overlooking the fact that even if Chris Quigley is no longer champion... is no longer the fan favorite... is alone except for Steve Manning as an ally... Chris Quigley is a tough wrestler. No way around that. TD: I think Steve Roberts would disagree with you on that point, Mr. Greyson... KG: So let him. I don't talk to make _him_ happy. And he hasn't done my Predators any favors. Soundbite can come to me if he doesn't like what I say, and tell me to my face. My door is always open. TD: Let me ask you this... why did you bring the Predators to the IIWF when you had two time champions, in other feds, in Idealization? [Kuyler laughs a little] KG: You ask tough questions. Colin Gehan....the Master....wanted a singles career. He was injured, and Vic...Apex...wasn't going to stick with an empty career as a tagalong. So I sold his contract and let Colin pursue his own career. TD: Do you ever regret that choice? KG: No...Colin is more of a loner...and Apex, well, he deserves a shot at some singles glory. Why he went off to see the other side of the coin. But with the Predators was a cohesion I had not seen before. How long have some of these teams been associated? TD: Uhm...a year at least...usually for five or six, training anyways. KG: Predators have been a team less than a year. TD: [surprise] You're kidding me. KG: No. See, when you find naturals...like Daniel, Bear....and you put them with someone who knows their way around the ring, like Michael, the Grey Phoenix, one time out of a hundred, you find a team that totally meshes...like the Predators. TD: We're almost out of time, Kuyler, I wanted to ask you about the big battle royal at Snow Brawl...obviously, your boys have an advantage, with Bear weighing in as the heaviest and strongest man in the IIWF. Is there anyone in the battle royal that the Predators are concerned about facing? [Kuyler, with a wide smile upon his face, shakes his head] KG: You haven't been listening, Tim. We take all threats seriously, all opponents are dangerous. Look, Quigley lost to 4M a few weeks back. The Machines, who have beaten Cold Spell and the Harlequins, have been upended by Subway Psycho and Tony Starks first time out of the shute. Anyone is a valid threat at any time. And battle royals aren't about who won...they're about who's left standing. The fans stand behind the Predators, or the new Damage Inc, but in this kind of a match, anything can and will happen. [smiles widely] But I feel good about our chances. TD: Kuyler, we're out of time, I hope I can have the opportunity to interview you again in the future. KG: As I said, Tim, my door is always open. TD: Back to you in the studio. [Fade to black.] [Camera pans in on a children's hospital in New Orleans, Louisiana. Many of the children are gathered in a semi-circle where they stare patiently as a nurse speaks to them.] NURSE: Okay, today children, as a special treat for all of you, we've brought in some special guests. Now, we know that a lot of you here are wrestling fans, especially you, Scotty. [Camera shot of the back of the room, where a very large child, who bears a striking resemblence to Scott "The Whine" Bloom, sits in the back, wearing pajamas, and clapping at the word "wrestling"] NURSE: Now, I want all you children to give a big round of applause for two of New Orleans biggest wrestling superstars, all the way from the IIWF, World Tag Team Champions Damage Inc.! [The children applaud loudly until they see Damage Inc. walk through the door. Instead of Eddy Ramos and Alex Porteaux, as they were expecting; Awesome T, "Ace" Adam Peterson, and "Mad Dog" Dan Oliver walk through the door. "Little Scotty" seems especially disappointed that Jeandra didn't make the trip. T and Adam sit at a small table, while Dan just stands behind them, arms crossed, glaring.] AT: Hello, sick little children. My name is Awesome T, and I'm the new manager of New Orleans' favorite duo, Damage Incorporated. I'm sure you have many questions... [Many children raise their hands up high.] AT: ...but I have to take care of some business first. You see, sick little kiddies, Damage Inc. has a big match coming up on Saturday, where they have to team with a bunch of stiffs to face a bunch of hasbeens in order to get the fans excited about next week's pay-per-view, which, of course, you kids can't afford, because your mommies, and for some of you, daddyies, have to pay for you to get better! So, that's why that camera is back there, filming this. Well, that, and the free publicity that we'll get on the news tonight. Now, back to you kiddies. Who has questions? [Almost all the kids raise their hand] AT: You, in the back. [Suddenly, unseen before, rises a tall man, with stubble on his chin, and glasses. He appears to be in his mid-thirties.] "CHILD": I'm sorry to interrupt, but these two wrestlers are some of my favorite wrestlers in the whole world. Myself and the other children often talk about how much we respect Damage Inc., and of course, their new manager, Awesome T. I've heard that some other tag team in the IIWF has stolen the IIWF World Tag Team Belts from your possession. How do you plan to handle this situation? [The children look at the man, dumbfounded.] AT: I'm glad you asked me that, Dou...er...little boy. There is another tag team, that I don't think anyone's ever heard of...well, not that we hear anything from our #13 spot in the RSPWF Tag Team rankings...well, anyway, they're named the Lost Boyz, who seem to have stolen the name of their team from either a mediocre movie from the mid eighties, or maybe even copied off of the tag team I used to manage...a very talented group of youngsters by the name of the Down Boys. [Adam Peterson leans over to T and whispers something into his ear. T laughs at whatever was said, and speaks back toward the children] AT: Mr. Peterson has just informed me that the team "Lost Boyz" ends with a letter "z", so that's completely different, original, and damn imaginative. Now, back to that little boys question. Sure, they have our belts...but come Snow Brawl, Damage Inc. will be entered into the Tag Team Battle Royal, and win a shot to face those imposters, and bring those titles back to our lovely home in Baton Rouge! AP: New Orleans. AT: Whatever. Next question. [Hands all go up again] AT: Let's try someone different. You, over there. [The man stands up again] "CHILD": Awesome T, as successful as you are all over the world... [The man is interrupted by a young boy, who punches the man in the groin. He falls to the ground, withering in pain. The boy stands up tall, and raises his hand directly in front of Awesome T] AT: Was there anyone else who had questions? No? Ok, then I guess... ACTUAL CHILD: I have a question. Who are these guys? Where is "Ace" and the "Mad Dog"? AT: Well, little boy, does your eyesight fail you? The man to my right is "Ace" Adam Peterson, and the very large individual standing behind us is "Mad Dog" Dan Oliver. ACTUAL CHILD: That's not the real "Mad Dog"!!! [With that, Dan Oliver hops over the table right in front of the child, stands about 3 inches in front of the child's face, and yells out...] DO: DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO FEEL THE TOP ROPE POWERBOMB??? HUH??? SOMEBODY'S GONNA DIE!!! [With that, Awesome T and "Ace" Adam Peterson run and grab Dan Oliver away from the screaming child, and scurry out of the hospital. The camera pans over to see the nurse, on one of the hospital phones, calling for security. Fade.] [Inside an ice rink, a hockey game is taking place. The camera angle is from the player’s bench. One of the teams score a goal. Then, one of the bigger players skates over to the bench and takes off his helmet to reveal Agito Nakajima.] AN: Yeah, Sho and I like to play ice hockey. Sure, it’s not the typical Japanese pastime, but it’s good for a cardiovascular workout. [The hockey game continues in the background.] AN: It looks as if the Damage Boyz have been running their mouths again, and pointing them in our direction. First of all, Sho and I only speak the truth. Secondly, we gave you praise once. The only reason we knew of your history to begin with was because of your own "Little reputation” speeches. Now, you come out and speak about asses, and how we’re bitches, and to me that means you have some kind of homo thing going on. Excuse us for pointing that out to you. [One of the hockey players skates by and throws off his helmet revealing Sho Satsuma. He yells something as he passes by.] SS: [Loud at first but fades towards the end as he skates by] Lost Boyz is one of my favorite movies!!!!! AN: [Giving a chuckle] Let's put all that aside. Your last rant didn’t answer the question we implied last week. Why are you afraid to wrestle us? No propaganda, just pure fact. The IIWF wants us to win a battle royal after wrestling a team better than you two, only to wrestle you once we’ve won both contests. Don’t get me wrong, we can do it, but why? Why, aren’t you two, man enough to give us the title shot? You talk a good game but you haven’t delivered yet! [Agito puts back on his helmet and skates back into play as Sho comes over.] SS: Machines! What happened? You were riding high in the Double Eye, until we came along. Then, you two came unglued. Now, the IIWF doesn’t even think highly enough of you to include you in the six team tag match Saturday night. Man-o-man have you been stinking up the area lately. [Sho grabs the camera and points it to Bertha, who was holding the camera originally. She looks amazing in a red half shirt and blue jeans.] SS: Simon! How does it feel, to not only stink in the ring, but to lose this piece to me? BERTHA: Shut up, Sho! [Sho hands the camera back to Bertha.] SS: Live and learn. Or rather live and get a butt whooping, courtesy of the Fabulous Ones. [Sho puts back on his helmet and skates away, only to be floored to the ice by a monstrous hip-check. The guy who hit him takes off his helmet... it’s Agito, who laughs at him. Sho gets up off the ice, pulls off his helmet, drops his gloves and attacks Agito. Both start to fight as the picture fades to black.] LM: Whover wins this match... it will be a doozy! ----------------------------------------------------------------------- IIWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: The Lost Boyz vs. Tony Starks and Subway Psycho ----------------------------------------------------------------------- VVE: Yet another match that should be billed above Quigley and Petrow! LM: Every match is a main event in the IIWF! VVE: What a company man! [Scene: Darkness. The sound of footsteps can be heard echoing. From the distance a small light can be seen. Two figures are walking from the light towards the camera. The shot moves in on them also, finally showing Starks and Psycho. They finally come up on the camera and begin to look around. The shot widens to show an abandoned subway tunnel under New York. Starks speaks:] TS: Damn man, you came up here? [Psycho says nothing.] Damn. I am gonna have to show you Staten sometime...you would like it. Park Hill is like this place: dark. I ain't talkin' about how it is just a project...nah, it is just dark. You know? Guess, that is why we get along so well...we come from the same place: darkness. We come from the same place, we _know_ each other...I know what you are thinkin', same as you do me. I get kinda sick of all these cats talkin' down on this team... we are just a bunch of singles wrestlers...we are too old. Man, the Psycho ain't even thirty yet and I am only 26, so how are we too old, huh? I guess we are too old 'cause we dont play to the fans. We don#t kiss ass, we just kick it. I think it's funny though... all the doubters. That expression on their face after they get hung out to dry by me and my boy here. Suits even think we earned a Title Match. Who hold the straps? The Lost Boyz? Oh, you gotta put that "Z" on the end of Boyz though, gotta be tough. You want to be tough? Look into my eyes. Me and this man have been here in the double eye since it was a itch in the pants of President Dan. We got more experience combined than any other cat in here. What do you have? A gimmick and some belts? You see a gimmick here? You see a gimmick in that man's eyes? You want to know what is real in this life? It ain't playing to the fans, it ain't belts and it ain't some "tough guy" gimmick You know what is real, though? Pain. Can't get no realer than that. The both of us... we know about it, and the Lost Boyz, you are gonna get lost in a coma we you feel our pain. [With that, Starks hits Psycho on the shoulder and walks off back into the darkness. Fade.] VVE: I do believe we are about to see new tag champs. LM: For once we are in agreement. Starks and Psycho are double-tough athletes who could take on any team in the IIWF. VVE: Except Turner and Macbeth. LM: Don't you think that our viewers get tired of you bringing them up. VVE: No. Why would they? ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Trash Talk |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... [Fade in on a close-up shot of a full moon. In the background the faint howl of a coyote can be heard wailing hauntingly. The camera pans out and then slowly down to Brody Thunder,sitting on the opened tailgate of his red pickup truck. The shadow of his hat hides his face as the moon's light illuminates the scene. He's dressed in jeans, boots and a fleece- lined denim jacket,the collar pulled up. The steam from his breath wafts through the night air mixing with the gray smoke from his lit cigar. He sits with one foot on the ground and the other on the tailgate as he leans back against the inside of the truckbed's wall. He raises a bottle of beer to his lips, never removing the cigar, and swallows hard.] BT: Aaaah. It always tastes better when yer a winner. It's a taste I've grown accustomed to. The taste o' success. An' last Saturday night I took another big drink o' it courtesy o' you, Kowalski. It shouldn't have come a a surprise when ya woke up in that parkin' lot,tastin' yer own blood... I tol'ya I was gonna take back the strap an' hurt ya in the process. But mebbe ya didn't believe me. Mebbe ya thought I was jus' bumpin' my gums ta hear myself talk. Or mebbe... [Thunder tips his hat back. His face is now visable in the moonlight, a stoic stare emanating from his eyes.] ...mebbe ya actually _thought_ ya could beat me. Well I'd like ta introduce ya to a li'l somethin' I like ta call reality, son. [Aa bright orange glow appears as the end of his cigar flares up.] An' the reality is that one-on-one...ya can't beat me,runt. Ya gave 'er a helluva try,I'll grant ya that. But the end's always gonna be the same. At Snow Brawl we're gonna finish our li'l chapter in the history book o' this sport, my friend. One last match ta make sure ya unnerstand that I ain't lyin' when I say I'm the best there is. There's fiction. There's rumor. An' then there's fact. An' the fact is come Snow Brawl,I'm gonna bury yer career in the ashes o' yer dreams, amigo. [He takes on more hit from the bottle and looks at for a second. He then looks back into the camera.] I'm done playin' around. The game's gotten old an' it's time ta put ya in yer place. It took _two_ punks ta take this belt from around my waist. Come January 17th I'm gonna show you an' the entire flamin' world... [Thunder tosses the bottle into the truck bed as he stands up to close the gate.] ...it only takes one _man_ ta keep it here. An' tomorrow night I'm gonna prove to everyone jus' how serious I am about keepin' this strap. This ain't jus' another match fer me. This is the match I end the myth that is "The Fury" once an' fer all. The folks are talkin' an' the rumors are a-flyin'. They're sayin' the "Next Big Thing" is you Kowalski. Tomorrow night I'm gonna show'em all why the Wolf's gonna end yer fifteen minutes o' fame at Snow Brawl. But don't jus' take my word fer it, ace... show up. [Thunder slams the tailgate closed. He turns back to the camera once more.] You know the address. [He walks alongside the driver's side and gets in the truck. The engine revs,the taillights glow and the truck spins off doqwn the dirt road. As the taillights fades off into the night the camera pans skyward to the full moon oncer again. That same coyote howl is heard as the camera closes in on the moon and fades to black.] [SCENE: Charles Scheffield is simply standing outside in a brisk aftternoon setting. Beautiful landscaping is all around. Scheffield himself is standing underneath the shade of a tree. As always, he is wearing a nice suit. Really, not a whole lot that is very special about the scene... it's just Scheffield ready to speak.] CS: Greetings, IIWF. I guess everyone's been waiting for Scheffield to speak... so hear I am. I know many are wondering just what it is that possessed me to appear on Saturday to attempt to save Lord Byron. It's actually very simple. You see, I'm tired of sitting back waiting for things to come to me. I decided to make things happen for myself... but I happened to pay the price. Luke Steele, maybe I got in over my head... but it's better than not getting in at all. [Scheffield doesn't look very happy as he remembers the match.] CS: I guess I have no one to blame but myself. Either way, this lethal lottery is coming up and it's myself, Byron, and Jim Steele in the ring to conquer. Then after that we fight eachother. Now, we have Luke Steele as one of the guys in the opposite corner of the ring... and I have to wonder if Meatman wouldn't try to join up with him to return the favor from Saturday. Of course, that would be foolish considering that it would be automatic forfeiture of the chance to challenge any wrestler in the month of February. Then again, perhaps Meatman isn't very confident in his chances of winning the entire thing... but I doubt that. If you want to win, you have to work on our side. Myself and Byron are more interested in the overall outcome of this match, and I think I am speaking for the both of us when I say that I would rather the outcome of this match be fairly decided. Besides, after our team wins, we'll have to wrestle eachother anyway... so if you have any problems, save it for then. I'm in this thing to win... and I am not going to take it very kindly if someone botches this whole thing on account of a simple perhaps non-existent grudge. Luke Steele is about the only one of the two of you I see as an enemy... and he happens to be on the opposite side of the ring. But Meatman... I wouldn't suggest attempting another double team... because this time the odds are stacked against you. [A no-nonsense grin crosses over Scheffield's face.] CS: Now Christopher Stonebreaker and I have met several times before. Once as friends... and twice as enemies. This will be the third time as enemies we are meeting and I don't plan on things going the same way as they had either of the previous times. I'm bringing a new game plan to the table this time... and it has nothing to do with dissatisfaction of previous strategies... it's just I have a idea planned. I do not want you ready in any way for this match since I am sure you believe you know everything there is to know about Charles Scheffield. I have barely begun my journey in the IIWF... and I guess the same can be said for you... but I have a long term plan. I do not plan to be a fly-by-night employee. I plan to prepare for the future. But perhaps you should think a bit more about the match we had on Wednesday War Room. You should think about how much worse that match could have been for you. I'm not talking about how successful you or I was in the match. I am talking about how much more physical punishment you could have suffered. It is definitely not a matter you should leave undealt with. Finally, Deathbringer. I am not sure what to think of your actions Saturday... I don't know a lot about you. I will not even try to guess. Either way, we are on opposite sides of the ring this time around and we are all gunning for the same thing... we all want to win. This will actually be the second time we have faced off in the ring... and if you remember, last time it was a six man tag match... and if you remember, last time, myself and your very own partner along with Meatman defeated your team. Can we pull a victory again? Well, seeing as Meatman won the match for us the last time and he happens to be on our team... things seem to be stacked in our favor. Of course, that's strictly speaking of odds... but things seem rather random this time around... but don't get your hopes too high. I think our team can pretty much count on each other for support. I guess the only question here is Meatman... that question being does he want to win... or does he simply want revenge? That should be answered soon. Byron knows he can count on me. I know I can count on him. Your team seems to be simply a disarray. I hope you can fix it... for your sake. For my sake, however... let all things stay as they are. [Scheffield simply turns and walks away as the camera fades out.] [The camera opens on the open lobby of what could only be considered a four star hotel. Behind the main desk is a balding gentleman, who is processing papers, and various individuals go roaming through the halls. The doors open to reveal the outside weather being completely enveloped by a blizzard, but none of the snow pours into the now exposed lobby. A poorly dressed figure steps into the lobby, wearing a button-up shirt, blue jeans, black boots and a black cowboy hat. The figure brushes the snow off his shoulder and reveals himself to be Christopher Stonebreaker. Chris looks up at the surroundings and chuckles slightly.] CS: A bit underdressed, I suppose. [Chris makes his way over to the desk clerk, and after some conversation with the man, he finally accepts a room key from the gentleman, before turning his attention to the stairs, before making his way toward the elevator, and he presses the "up" button before leaning back against the wall.] CS: This is the big time, as they say. Where everything starts for some careers, and for others, well, it can all come crashing around them. In just a matter of weeks, days, hours, depending on how you want to look at it, the war begins. Now, for myself, this war began Wednesday night. You see, Steele, I had something to prove Wednesday night. I was going up against one of the men that we were going to face at Snow Brawl. I guess you could say, that the brawl had started already. But you, Luke, just couldn't seem to wait to get things started. You had to come down and steal the moment in the spotlight. [Chris looks up to see that the lights have stopped halfway along the board.] I've said it before, and I'll say it one more time, boys, I came here to prove that I had what it took to be the best in the IIWF organization. And twice this week that opportunity has been "ruined". The first was in a match that ... hell, I should have expected Paris to stick his nose in where it didn't belong. But you Luke, you put yourself in a place you never should have been. Steele, you and myself are partners for Snow Brawl for one match. And one match only. You see, Luke, I've already gone through a third of that opposing team already. And if I have to, I'll go through Scheffield again and again. And that leaves Meatman and Lord Byron. Now, Meatman, you and I have been on similiar sides as well in the past, but at Snow Brawl. There will be no alliances, no handshakes of friendships. I came here to add to the "legacy" of the Rajun Cajun, and that means if I have to go through you as well, well, that's precisely what I will do. And that brings me to Lord Byron. Byron, I've watched as you and Scheffield have strengthened your relationship. I've watched when you drove Otto out of the federation. And I watched when you came down and involved yourself in my activities. Much like Mr. Steele had done. You see, I don't take too kindly to anyone involving themselves where they don't belong. Whether it's individuals like Steele, or household names such as yourself. At Snow Brawl, you, along with your colleagues will find that out, as one way or another you will go down to either my hands or the hands of my partners. [The cajun glances back at the elevator light panel to realize that it has finally begun moving once again, and is nearing the left most number. Chris turns around to face the doorway of the elevator, just as it slides open, and the man steps into the box after a number of individuals pour out.] And after it's all said and done Gentlemen, Steele, you and I are going to have a score to settle. I will do whatever it takes to keep you in that match until the very end, but once that final bell sounds after Byron and company are eliminated. After that, Steele, you get the lesson of your young life. You find out that you stepped across the line you should have never even looked at. Deathbringer, you've already felt my fury in the ring once. I'd suggest you not hang around for the second wave. But Luke, you are the man that I'm saving everything. You, my friend, will learn the hard way that I am going to the top of the IIWF, and if I have to take you out to do so, well, then that's precisely what I will do. [Chris pushes one of the buttons on the inside of the elevator, and the doors slide shut, but before they seal, Chris can be heard.] J'vais te briser! [The camera remains focused on the elevator, and the lights slowly begin to climb higher and higher as the scene finally fades to black.] LM: We are about out of time but we need to remind you to tune in to IIWF Saturday Night! VVE: We will be back next week -- and soon... Snow Brawl! LM: The fans might also be interested in knowing that we are currently negotiating with someone to be a guest host on this show! VVE: What? [Victoria begins arguing with Larry as the audio is cut off, the lights fading in the studio as Morton runs for cover. Fade.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Jim Jividen | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | brokeback@webtv.net | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+