________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| |\ /| /\ |\ | | /\ \ / | || | \ v v / | __| | v |/ \| \| __| /__\ \/ |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| | |\ /| |/ |/ \/ | | \/ | |\_// /\ |\ /| | _ | / __ / __ | v | | | / \ . |\ | / \ / \ | | | | \__ | | \| | __ \__ 26 January 1998 | | | | \ | | | \__| \ .....................|..v_____/.|.|..|____|____/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Steve "the Fury" Kowalski ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade in. Rugged work boots are seen, just below old jeans.] SK: I have jus' servived the tuffest match of my career. I servived the legacy that's Brody Thunder. I jus' beat the baddest man in the sport. [Camera starts to pan upward to the knee-level of the weathered pants.] An' as we say in the locker room, "If ya don't shed blood fer the chance, ya won't make it to the dance." Well, I bled like a stuck pig an' came out on top. [Now at waist level, a plain black belt circles Kowalski's rim.] Now... It's 1998 in the ol' Double Eye an' there needs to be asses in the seats. Who better to fill 'em then the Fury? I haven't a [BLEEP]in' clue. [The IIWF title, laying over the shoulder of the champ, comes into view. A t-shirt reading "Bullseye's on me. Pull the Trigger!" is worn by Kowalski. There are still traces of bruises and a few butterfly bandages littered about him.] So fer all o' ya technicians, brawlers, heroes an' heels... Line up! 'Cause this is the year of the Fury. If there's any complaints... I'll be in the ring. [Fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Sychosys" Joe Petrow ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera view is from backstage, pointint out the entrance ramp to a victorious "Sychosys" Joe Petrow returning to the locker room, just after his submission victory over Chris Quigley.  As he reaches the back, several staff members offer words of congratulations, but Petrow gingerly brushes past them, and continues his silent walk.  He pauses at the men's restroom, then pushes the door open with his left hand and walks inside. After a short pause, the cameraman does a brave and foolish thing, and opens the door.  The camera picks up on Sychosys, down on his knees, clinching his right shoulder with his left hand, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide open but with teeth firmly clinched, emitting a sort of gurgling sound that betrays his pain. After several seconds of this, Petrow finally becomes aware of the camera...and goes into a rage, pushing himself off the ground with his good arm, and coming at the camerman, forcing him backwards out the door.] JP: Oh, Mr. Big Time Scoop, huh?  After all that's happened here, I don't even a damn moment of privacy, do I?  Well, here I am!  What do you want me to say, huh? [Petrow has backed the cameraman back into the hallway, getting right up into the lens of the camera to continue his diatribe. In the distance, a bearded suit is seen walking into the picture, carrying a duffel bag, apparently looking for the exit.] JP: You want me to talk about Steve Manning?  You want me to talk about     winning another battle royale?  You want to talk about 40 armed     guards keeping me out of my tag team title match?  You want to talk     about what I did to Chris Quitley and what he did to me?  Well, I'm     sorry, but there's only one thing I want to talk about right now! [Petrow whirls around, lunges towards the unaware bearded suit, pins him against a wall with his left arm, and screams in his face] JP: WHERE THE [BLEEP] IS MY PARTNER!? [The bearded suit stands in stunned silence.  Suddenly, Petrow himself becomes eerily quiet, speaking barely above a whisper.] JP: Some things never change.  But some things do, y'know? [Petrow gives the suit a slight, creepy smile, before letting go and backing off, this time the camera only watching from a distance.  Petrow turns around and gingerly walks away, past the locker rooms, doing a double take upon seeing an open door reading "Janitor".  Petrow enters the room, and a lot of crashing sounds a re heard, before Petrow finally emerges with a large garden hoe.  Holding the hoe in his left hand, Petrow walks to the exit, kicks open the door, and walks out into the parking lot of Aloha Stadium.  Fade out as the door closes behind him.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Serge Annis ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera fades in on the IIWF logo, back home in the IIWF Colosseum. Before it stands IIWF's hardcore hero, "The Epitome of Evil" Serge Annis. Annis sports the remaining swells of a black eye, after a week off. His face is its normal scarred self, and Serge's icy blue eyes stare into the camera.] SA: Back in Portland. I'm nowhere near beaches, congo lines, luaus and everything else on that Godforesaken island. I'm back in Portland. And this Saturday Night, I don't know how better to ring in the new cycle, than to be wrestling Mad Dog Watkins in a steel cage match. Watkins... how I hate you so... you cost me Snow Brawl. In some ways, you cost me the IIWF World championship, again. That doesn't help you any Dog. When we brawled at Snow Brawl, I saw something in your eyes. Fear? No... the Dog doesn't fear much. Hatred? Yeah, that was in there. But Watkins, I saw intensity that I didn't know you had. I saw the fire in your eyes that keeps your old heart ticking. But Watkins, your fire is nearly out. Saturday Night, Serge Annis is going to extinguish it permanently. No place to run, no place to hide. Four steel walls shall confine us to that ring. Unlike Snow Brawl, we won't be battling in and out of the fans. We won't be going backstage, up the isle, in the washroom or anywhere else. It all lies in the ring... And in that ring Mad Dog... that is where you have made your life. Wrestling legends year after year. In that ring Watkins... that is where that life of yours will end, for I shall beat you like the worthless mutt that you are... remember. Inside that steel cage, it's all legal. And I have plans for you Dog... oh yes, do I ever. Heh heh... You're in trouble Mutt... and there's no way out. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "To Excess" Rick Williams ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene opens to the IIWF interview area following Snow Brawl.  The somewhat fatigued, but smiling figure of "To Excess" Rick Williams waits to speak.  Still in his ring attire, and appearing to be in the most confident of moods, Williams pushes his hair from his face before he begins to speak.]  RW: How do you like that, Billy... How do you like that?  Enough of the spotlight for you?  Or do you want some more?  Tell me when you've had enough, won't ya' _Bill_? But you know, Bill, all I ask is that you don't say I didn't warn you... because I told you time and time again that it was time for you to step aside now that you're nothing more than the man who used to be a winner.  I told you I'd end it, Bill... and "To Excess" is no liar.   [With arrogance from his "victory" now almost radiating from him, Williams proceeds.] And what about you, Marty?  How are _you_ doing right now?  _Pride_, because you beat Billy Shakespeare?  _Shame_, because of the _way_ you beat Billy Shakespeare?  Or _regret_, because you stuck your nose where it didn't belong?  Tell me, Marty... I _really_ wanna know. You see, Marty, the way I see it, it's all about priorities.  I'm not concerned with you costing me a free reign in February's booking schedule... I'm just concerned that you might consider it acceptable to interfere in a "To Excess" match.  Nah, that type of behaviour just can't go unpunished... [Williams shakes his head in mock sorrow.] What I did to Billy Shakespeare, I did for a reason... perhaps to educate him on the new routine in the IIWF these days, regarding the fazing out of "veterans", such as Billy, and the introduction, in their place, of newer, younger and better stars, such as "To Excess". Nothing personal... it's the way of the world, and I'm sure you'd concur, huh Marty?  Billy's had more than his share of the spotlight over the years.  Now he's gotta move aside -- I'm merely a catalyst in the process.  Billy knows he's finished around here -- Ask him yourself -- He's probably admit to being completely washed-up.  I mean, it's nothing to cry about... It's just nature's way -- You know, "Survival of the fittest", and all that. I know you'll find this hard to accept, Marty, but there's not much I can do about that.  Billy Shakespeare is _finished_.  Finished by a man fit to walk in any spotlight.  Blinded by the tragic realization that had he hung around any longer, he'd have been spending a lot more time with Gecko, Bloom and the boys. [He pauses, as if to contemplate his preceding comments, before a familiar devious grin appears on his face.] Make no mistake, Marty... I fully intend on taking a large metaphorical chunk out of your worthless carcass, and I know you want _your_ pound of flesh.  But don't do it for the honour of the dear departed Billy Shakespeare... Do it because I think you're one of life's great saps... Do it because I think you fail to reach Tim Dross levels of being a "Party Animal"... or do it simply because I'll damn sure do it to you. It's not about Billy, Marty... It can't be, because Billy's finished now... finished because of _me_.  "To Excess" Rick Williams has gone down in history as the man who brought about Shakespeare's final tragedy, and I _will_ go down in history as the man who ended his little Welsh buddy's career too.  Count on it, Jack. [Fade.]      ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Tim Turner storms into the interview area, looking a little battered after the recent match at Snow Brawl.] TNT: This isn't over. It will never be over until Derek Mota has run from the IIWF with his tail between his legs like the whipped cur that he is. And maybe not even then. Mota, you got off lightly at Snow Brawl. Don't think you'll ever get it that easy again. Ask Ryan Howard why he is unable to wrestle now. It's because of the Rocket Man. [Turner stops, as if he's hearing something off camera.] TNT: Howard's back? I know that he was here but there is no way he'll wrestle. He can't be be ready after that pounding that Duncan and I gave him. Speaking of Duncan...Team Sychosys won the battle royal did they? I didn't realize that Petrow had turned himself full time into a tag wrestler. I was under the impression that you could not be considered both a tag and singles wrestler. If it was otherwise, Duncan Macbeth and Timothy N. Turner would be champs by now. Oh well. Maybe the Predators are willing to face the most dominant team in the fed. Maybe not. I'll have to settle for watching Duncan leaving Mota as a gibbering pile of what was once a man. Don't think you'll survive, Derek. You won't. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Real Deal" Luke Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade up to the IIWF: Snow Brawl interview area.  A large Snow Brawl logo adorns the wall, and nameless IIWF officials stream through the camera shot.  All of a sudden a towel flies into the scene, as if it's been thrown.  "The Real Deal" Luke Steele storms onto the set, with fire in his eyes, and wearing a black muscle t-shirt over his ring attire of long pant-style black tights.  He stares into the camera, and points a finger at the lens.] LS: I'm not gonna name names, I'm not gonna draw comparisons, I'm not gonna be like, well, Quigley.  But dammit, you people all know that     the Real Deal did _not_ submit to that damn Aristoclutch.  Byron, what did you do, pay the referee off?  Obviously it wasn't enough, because that idiot the Meatman beat your ass too.     Meatman, I want a piece of you, and soon.  Not a rib, not a wing, not even a neck.  I want the whole damn carcass.     For that matter, anyone in that match, on my team or against me, I want you in the ring.  There's no logical reason why the Real Deal lost that match, and I'm gonna devote myself to taking each and every one of you out. [Fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Christopher Stonebreaker ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera opens on the makeshift IIWF rear stage, and standing on the stage is Christopher Stonebreaker with his head hung down slightly, and his left hand running through is hair.  He finally looks up at the camera with a smile on his face.] CS: So I was the wild card, was I, Luke?  I was the man you... let's see if I remember the quote precisely... you thought could "sink the team before it had a chance to succeed".  Those were the words, were they not? Well, go back and take a look at the video tapes, Steele, I'm not the man who went down to the hands of Lord Byron.  I'm not the man who gave it up, when I knew what was on the line for the winning trio.  You see, Luke, you complain about this "rut" that you're in, and then you wanted myself and Deathbringer to carry you right out of it. Well, unfortunately, this sport doesn't work that way.  I didn't come into the IIWF to have someone ride my shoulders to get to the top of the federation.  I didn't come in here to let someone like you, Luke, cost me whatever it took to make it to the heap of the mountain. Chris finally lowers his hand from his hair, and turns to look back at the IIWF banner, before returning his attention to the front of the stage. Now that's the second time that you and Lord Byron have had an outcome on what happens in the career of the Rajun' Cajun here. And gentlemen, I do not appreciate having my future, shall we say, skewed by factors outside of my control.  And it seems that for the past couple of weeks, it seems that control has belonged to you two gentlemen. Well, as of this moment, I am going to retake control of where I go in the IIWF.  I am going to retake control of what it takes to get me to the apex of this federation, and I am going to make sure that you two gentlemen are out of my way from this point on. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Icehawk ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Backstage at Snow Brawl. Icehawk hasn't even showered after being eliminated in the six-man match.]   IH: Moxy, you are the most annoying little twit that I have ever met. And now you've ruined my chance to be the Snow Brawl survivor. But you know what? So now I am supposed to come out here and go on and on about how I'm going to track you down and beat you to a pulp.   [Icehawk looks fierce for a moment, or at least tries to, then shakes his head in amusement.]   IH: I'm not going to do that. I showed on War Room that I can kick your butt without breaking a sweat. The only way you can even slow me down is that with that 400-pound goon you drag along. You are a Icehawk wannabe who isn't even worth the five minutes it would take to squash. I've got bigger things to do.   [Icehawk makes a shooing motion into the camera.]   IH: Go away, Moxy. You bother me. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "The Intrepid" Ryan Howard ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Cut to the IIWF interview room the day after Snow Brawl, empty for the time being, but an audible chant can be heard from nearby, "All we are say-ing / is kick Quig-ley's ass!" As it nears, it is interluded with a strain of laughter. Stepping through the doorway, a wry grin lighting his lips, is Ryan Howard, wearing a pair of loose fitting carpenter jeans and a vintage Otto Verhoeven t-shirt.] RH: Hah.. maybe.. "Turn-er is complain-ing, / 'Take-that outta my ass!'" Hell, I could say that all day it and would never get old. [Glancing up the camera, he acts as if appraising himself in a reflection, drawing his right hand up to brush through his short, thickened crimson curls, his left thumb drawing across his nose with a small sniffle. With a deviant wink of a darkened sienna eye, he purses his lips in a mock-kiss to the camera, before stepping back.] RH: What a kick-ass event last night at Snow Brawl? I mean, seriously peeps, what more _could_ you ask for? I mean, we got to see someone near break a jobber's leg, which is pretty frick'n funny, we got to see Petrow... ...and Joe, I gotta be givin' you props for one helluva match you wrestled. I swear, my shin was hurtin' the whole time.. honest to.. well, okay, maybe you took a few of those bumps a _bit_ to the extreme..  you.. [He mumbles something along the lines of a type of cat..]   ...but we saw Joe Petrow make "Spacefighter" Spiff Spifley submit, in a finish that was nothing short of Drago getting his ass whooped in Rocky IV. We got to see two of _the_ biggest meatheads alive.. [He cones a hand and draws it to his mouth, multiplying the audibility of his chant of "Meat! Meat! Meat!"] No, not "the Meatman" Gimme A. Feele. We got to see "Cornhusking" Brody Thunder beat the hell out of himself and Stevey "not the sausage" Kowalski into a bloody pulp, and then watch the heavens fall through as the top of the fricken cage broke free, both of them landing on their thick-ass skulls. And then everyone was treated to... [He draws a thumb up, placing it lightly upon his chest and nodding, never having lost his grin throughout all his antics, his eyes taking on slitted lids.] RH: Me. Turner... I wish I had a camera. First, to beat you down with, and second, to take a picture of that stupid, goofy look on your face when I yanked you out of the ring to lay hooves. And then, rest becomes a blur... [He waves a hand back and forth melodramatically, his eyes widening and tone rising with each action.] Out come Da Gimp and BeastMaster, and they whack me from behind. You got Frankenstein and Shaka Zulu going at it in the crowd. Next thing you know, you and Bugger-Boy turn on your gimp and start laying into him, and I... [He chuckles, groping his chin lightly between thumb and forefinger.]   I slip out the back door, the referee counts to ten, and thanks to me, the "Sex Express" choo-choos into the final round of the Snow Brawl.. [At a loss for words, he shakes a hand, stuttering..] ...those... those... t-.."things"! [With a small chuckle, he turns from the camera and begins his strut back to the door, stopping just as he pulls it ajar.] Oh yeah, I almost forgot, I was supposed to tell you something along the lines of "And this only the beginning of what will be one hell of a year." Or something like that. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Charles Scheffield ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE:  Camera fades in on Charles Scheffield.] CS: Well, the world saw Charles Scheffield throw Lord Byron out of the ring at Snow Brawl.  That was probably the high point of my entire tenure here in the IIWF.  After it was time for all of us to turn against each other, I decided there was no use in holding back.  Byron has already had his time of glory here in the IIWF as the greatest Intercontinental champion of all time... so naturally it was time for someone else to take the spotlight.  Byron, I want you to know that I have nothing against you... yet I needed to do something with my career and I needed a stepping stone.  Unfortunately, it had to be you. [A smile begins to form on Scheffield's face.] Now on to other matters.  It seems as though I shall soon face my greatest challenge to date in that of Deathbringer.  Well, seeing as I have been part of a team that has defeated your team twice... I guess it is time to see which one of us is the better in singles competition.  I hear that you are supposed to be dead... well, whether or not that is true, I in some ways hope to make wish it were reality come this Saturday.  I know your reputation as one of the most fearsome wrestlers in all of wrestling... but you should know that I am not ready to be defeated once more.  This is a decision I am making right now.  My career has been less than spectacular thus far... and nothing seems to be getting better.  Of course, there is still a long way for me to go... but this Saturday I am making a commitment to start my climb to the top now.  It is going to be a bumpy ride... and I in no way expect to go on a winning streak for any amount of time... but it's time to stop the losing streak.  Deathbringer... this Saturday... watch yourself. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Fabulous Ones ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene opens with a shot of the sun setting on the ocean.  The camera pans around to show “The Universal Heartthrob” Agito Nakajima and “Sweet” Sho Satsuma sipping drinks with four very beautiful women around them doing the same.  To Sho’s left is the very Lovely Bertha.] AN: Well, what do we have here?  It’s myself and Sho having a few drinks with the setting sun as entertainment.  Natures greatest creation, the Sun. And, just how can this be, that we’re also surrounded by beautiful women? SS: Because, we’re fabulous and all the other double-eye talent are fat! [Agito shoots a look at Sho.] SS: With the exception of one. AN: Since the IIWF gave us a little time to relax after defeating the best team they had the Machines, and dominating the battle royal, we decided to take a break and enjoy a cruise to our homeland.  Now, I realize some of the other teams are going to get big headed and say dumb stuff like, “You didn’t win the battle royal, how can you say you dominated?”, “You're not the champions.”  Well, first of all, Sho and myself were the last team in the ring before elimination.  And, not one team can claim they eliminated us, why?  Because we eliminated ourselves!  We had a score to settle with Simon O’Neal, and did.  [Bertha smiles.] AN: We don’t need a battle royal to get us a shot.  We’re the best team in the IIWF, we’ll get our shots our own way.  It was insulting to have us in the ring with so many loser tag teams as it was.  Be happy we even showed up.   Now, as the for the second statement, “You're not the champions.”... As for our upcoming match with the PROPHETS of RAGE.  We’ve seen you wrestle, and we’re not impressed.  Sure, you're hardcore extreme, but that doesn’t win matches, just ask the LOST BOYZ... SS: Man, that’s a cool movie.  Did you know that’s one of my favorites? Come on Baby, let's go back to our room and watch it.  I’ve got it on DVD. [Sho grabs Bertha’s hand and they leave.] AN: [Agito looks at the camera.]  Prophets... aah, I’ll worry about you two later.  Cameraman, want to check out the movie? Cameraman: Sure! AN: Come on ladies, we’ve got a party to go to. [Agito gets up with the four lovely women and walks down the deck.  The camera turns around and focuses on the sun as it disappears. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Paul Wong ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Ms. Miki and Paul Wong walk down the deck, hand-in-hand.  Ms. Miki is wearing a blue one-piece bathing suit, while Paul is wearing Speedos and sunglasses.  Each one is holding a daiquiri in their hands.  Paul looks out over the sea.] PW: I could definitely get used to this. MM: And it's all yours. PW: Simon, Simon, Simon... [Shakes his head]  I'm sorry, partner. Really.  But it's like you said -- you are who you are, and you're not going to change.  I had to choose between you and Miki.  [He puts his arm around Miki].  I chose Miki.  Can you blame me? A piece of advice, Simon; let it go.  Move on with your career. Hell, you've always threatened to start wrestling solo.  Miki's going to lead me to great things.  Besides, we were always holding each other back.  Have a nice life. MM: The Fabulous Ones are already the future of the IIWF tag team wrestling, and now "The Wrestling Machine" Paul Wong [feeling his biceps] is going to the top of the IIWF single's scene. [Paul and Miki walk past the camera and down into the deck of the boat.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Simon O'Neal ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Simon O'Neal stands in the IIWF interview area, holding an icepack over his head.  He shakes his head, and looks in the camera.] SO: Three years.  I teamed with him for three years, hundreds of matches, two long title reigns, total domination of one fed... ...and he never learned a goddamn thing from me. [BLEEP] him.  I made sure the Fabulous Ones didn't get that title shot, and now I'm not going to worry about them, or either one of those tramps.  I'm going to worry about the only person I can trust... me. [Fade.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Gregg Osterhout | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | ghost@frii.com | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+