________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| |\ /| /\ |\ | | /\ \ / | || | \ v v / | __| | v |/ \| \| __| /__\ \/ |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| | |\ /| |/ |/ \/ | | \/ | |\_// /\ |\ /| | _ | / __ / __ | v | | | / \ . |\ | / \ / \ | | | | \__ | | \| | __ \__ 2 February 1998 | | | | \ | | | \__| \ .....................|..v_____/.|.|..|____|____/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Steve "the Fury" Kowalski ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The IIWF's backdrop rolls into view. The crew quickly tie it into place. A moment later, Steve Kowalski walks into view. The current reigning IIWF Champion is wearing the wrestling world's most prized possession around his waist. After the camera man says "You're on, champ!", Kowalski lights up his stogie, puffs a smoke ring and spits out a few words of wisdom.] SK: First off, Jimmy Steele... Meat Puppet. Yer on the clock. Six days an' countin'. The first five'll sweep by like ya never cared. But that last one... Oh yeah, junior. It's gonna be the longest day of yer life. Minutes'll seem like hours, hours'll seem like days. Time'll only catch up to ya when I do. [Stopping to take a deep draw on his stogie...] But at that point... it'll be too late. Heh, yer welcome fer the shot. [The Fury flicks a few embers of the end of his smoke and draws that crooked smile across his face. Tilting his head sideways, as if to remember something he wanted to say, Steve continues.] Oh yeah, there a few points I'd like to make to the rest of the pack. Seems now that I'm the new champ... _again!_... that a few of the IIWF's finest need to take a few shots at ol' Steve. Let me clear the air for a few of ya. Warnett, buddy, are ya even ranked anymore? I'm twice the man I was a year ago an' ya ain't half the man ya were. So give it a rest an' pick a number. Crazy Joe... ha ha ha! Ya make me laugh, buddy. Ya call me trash, then ya say ya don't do singles anymore. Figures. Yer the guy that writes down his ranking on a popularity poll an' claims he's an icon. Well, buddy, congrats. Yer the icon of the legions of mid-carders, jobbers an' internet geeks world 'round. Ya should be proud. Ya ain't gonna survive Rage. An', Serge. What are ya doin'? Ya burned a ring. Worse off ya burned my opponent fer the Invitationals. We can't have that. Either ya put the Zippo away or I'm bringin' the extinguisher. Goodnight, folks. Show's over. [Turning on his heel, he walks off the set. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Team Sychosys ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [TS, aka Team Sychosys members "Sychosys" Joe Petrow and "Mr. Majestyk" Maurice McArthur, walk down a Portland sidestreet on a cloudy Monday morning.  Suddenly, Joe stops to look down at the ground, and a big grin appears on his face.] 4M: Hey Joe, what's up? JP: Maurice, take a look at this! 4M: [puzzled] What, I don't see anything? JP: Exactly!  I can't see my Shadoe! [Slight awkward pause.  Then...both men burst out in uncontrollable fits of laughter!  Fade out as TS walks away.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Serge Annis ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene cuts in to backstage of the Qualcomm Stadium. The scene is pandemonium. Dozens of IIWF Officials are racing around, each shouting to get help. Poutine Janois is seen, running by with a small fire extinguisher, shouting the words "Anything helps...". As people continue to run about, a group of IIWF officials go the opposite way, slowly and huddled in a group. Dennis Griffings is leading the charge, and shouts can be heard. The camera pans to see that the secuirity team are attempting to hold back the "Epitome of Evil" Serge Annis. Annis is fighting the officials as best as he can, but the group easily overpower the tired wrestler, who has seemingly just gone through hell in the ring. Annis spots the camera. Annis' face lights up, and he shouts to the camera in a crazy, deranged tone.] SA: I told ya! I told all of you! Serge Annis is a man of his word! [Serge grows frantic as the officials continue to pull him away. Annis bobs his bloody head around to get a view of the camera.] SA: I promised you Hell on Earth! And I delivered! Who's the damn man now? [Annis flips both his hands up and gives the finger to the camera. Griffings, taking advantage of a good situation, immediately lunges at Serge's wrists and proceeds to cuff them with handcuffs. The scene fades to black as Serge can be heard laughing and shouting, "Who's the damn man now...?!"] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Enigma" Takezo Musashi ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The "Enigma" Takezo Musashi walks out into the generic interview area, in front of the gigantic IIWF logo backdrop, the highly polished sheen of the golden Cruiserweight title belt slung over his shoulder. Sweat drips down his torso after his hard fought match against Icehawk, and as he wipes away the last vestiges of white face paint from his face with the back of his hand, it is apparent that a wild and dangerous gleam emenates from the Enigma's eyes.] TM: Icehawk, you fought with the courage of a lion tonight, but the Enigma was too much for you. You suffered during this match, and your back may never feel one hundred percent ever again, but I have no remorse for my actions. It is the way of the warrior to take the battle to your opponent with every weapon in your arsenal, and when I smashed your spine across the cold steel with my somersault plancha, it was a moment of brutal, glorious triumph. You've got to take your bumps like a man in this sport, and I don't want to hear any complaints about the finish, or about the reckless disregard I displayed for your safety. You could no longer continue the match; I took the fight right out of you, and the referee stopped it fair and square. Let's face it, when I made that leap, it was either me or you who was going to snap in two over that guard rail, and I put at least as much on the line as you did, Icehawk. My judgement and precision timing are at the top of the game, and that's why you're the one being stretchered to the hospital even as I speak, and I'm the one standing here brandishing my championship gold in triumph. It's the nature of the game, Icehawk, to take your lumps and come back fighting. I'm standing here right now with bone spurs in my forearm, with banged up knees, my ribs are cracked... But I've got the intestinal fortitude to live through the pain and stand proud as a champion. Will the same be said of you, Icehawk? Can you overcome the adversity I have set before you, or are you destined to remain a brittle young punk in a hard man's game? I'll be waiting for you to come back, Icehwak, revenge seething in your brain and anger flashing in your eyes. Until then, the Enigma remains your master. And what if I've put you out of action permanently? Well, you'll be the one left to pick up the pieces of your life, while the Enigma continues to soar high above the competition, standing at the pinnacle of the wrestling world. Brutal competition? Injury on the fields of war? For these things, I hold no qualms. Remorse for a vanquished opponent is a weak trait in a warrior, Icehawk, and you can bet that I hold no sympathy or regrets for the pain and anguish you are now experiencing. To the rest of the Cruiserweight challengers, I say bring it on... Bring it on if you want to be next to experience the daring and dangerous intensity, the adrenaline charged mayhem of stepping into the ring with me. Bring it on if you think you've got a chance against the best wrestler, pound for pound, in the world today. I'm ready, and my hunger for fresh challenges burns deeply within my soul... [Musashi's intense gaze burns deeply into the camera lens as the scene slowly fades.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Edmund Fitzgerald ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Backstage at Qualcomm Stadium. The camera picks up Edmund Fitzgerald entering the arena, dressed in street clothes, and having just returned from the hospital. As he makes his way over to the interview set, he is stopped by several IIWF stars, all of whom are obviously asking for updates on Icehawk's condition. Finally, he satisfies everyone's curiosity, and reaches the set and begins to talk in a quiet tone.] EF: I've been asked to give the fans an update on Icehawk's condition. When he first went down, he couldn't move his legs, and only had partial movement in his arms. However, by the time we reached the hospital, he was able to wiggle his toes, and make a fist with his hands. The doctors say that they are sure that he will walk again, and he's going to be able to live a normal life. [Fitz pauses at this point ... searching for words.] EF: But they also told me that they are going to recommend that he never wrestle again. He did just enough damage that one more bad fall could cause permanent paralysis. So now I have to go back to the hospital and tell my best friend, who just happens to be the most exciting wrestler in this promotion, that he has to retire. [Fitz starts to turn away, then faces the camera, a cold rage in his eyes.] EF: Enigma, you heartless bastard, you _are_ going to pay for this. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Prophets of Rage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The Prophets of Rage stand by the interview area.  Pizzazz is busy swabbing down the cuts and scratches on both men.  The Prophets look like they've just been through a war, but there isn't a hint of exhaustion on them.  There isn't a hint of worry.] DR: See, two-on-two, there isn't a soul that can take out the Prophets.  Fabulous Ones.  I hope you enjoyed the victory.  It just didn't seem like a victory did it, lying there on the ground, unconscious and beaten.  It just didn't look like it was worth your while. DDUA: Yeah, see, see, not enough people are taking the Prophets of Rage seriously.  You figure that because there's a new team that they aren't gonna be as good as quick?  Well, I assure you, the Dog ain't no clown.  Naw, he ain't no clown.  He's a muhfuh who's a dangerous bastard.  He's something crazy and insane.  And now there's the most dangerous team in the world coming at you.  And let me tell all y'all muhfuhs there ain't no way that you can cope with this pent up savagery.  Not a bit of it.  YEAAHHHH!!!! DR: Time for the new catch phrase, right? DDUA: Nah, we just comin' to kill somebody. [Fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Savage" Shadoe Rage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade in: Shadoe Rage strides into the interview area, wearing a Knicks jersey and gold bracelets around his biceps with a pair of low-slung jeans.  He runs a hand through his hair, looking into the camera and smiling with a look that is at once both crazed and bloodthirsty as well as jovial.] SR: Steve Kowalski?  No, Joe Petrow, I don't start with the legitimate top.  What's the point.  See, it's inevitable that I become the IIWF champion.  What I have to do around here is bring you to heel.  Why?  Because Mark asked me to.  [He grins a little bit.] No, actually, I'm doing this for the whole of the IWWF.  The homegrown stars that look at your little sideshow circus and say, how the hell does this jackass get his way.  They don't understand what you're all about, but I do.  And now that I hold the rights to grip you by the short and curlies, baby, believe me when I say I'm going to use the opportunity to pull you up short.  What do you do when you don't dictate terms?  What do you do when it is impossible for you to control the scenario?  See, we come from entirely different backgrounds.  In the face of adversity, I stand up.  I take my punishment and I stick it out like a man.  I don't run and quit because someone didn't want to play my game, because somebody didn't like a name.  I didn't walk in and walk out to suit my whims in some vain effort to feed my ego.  You understand that, Petrow, and then you'll know who you're facing.  Don't believe everything you hear and everything you read.  The IIWF is not your personal playground.  And you see how the egos are disappearing from around here.  The old RSPWC-FWLI-IFWF whatever the hell it's name is crew.  They're all falling.  They're running back to their little vanity promotions.  Quigley's gone.  Destructo self-destructed.  Rogers ran.  It's just you and me left, son.  And believe me.  All your pretty speeches, kooky little skits and dumb movie-jacked storylines don't impress me at all.  No they don't.  I don't care if you have won every battle royal by being the only one ever to keep repeating the same tired storylines you watch on TV.  I don't care.  Because I promise you this.  There's going to be some serious losses for you through the month of February.  I'm going to take everything away from you.  I'm going to take away everything you think is important.  I'm going to humble you and strip you.  And then let's see how you are when you've got no reputation left.  What do you do?  Get in touch with Spreadbury and pray to him for me to have mercy on you.  Pray! [Fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "To Excess" Rick Williams ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene opens to the IIWF interview area following Saturday Night.  Still dressed in his ring attire, "To Excess" Rick Williams awaits.  His mouth chewing the seemingly ever-present stick of gum, he wears a thoughtful expression, as he rubs his hand across his face and begins to speak.] RW: For dramatic effect, I'd have to give you full marks. The darkened arena, the eery voice, the _spotlight_.  And the "coup de gras" of an appearance by good ol' Blindfold Billy.  Yeah, not bad... but I hope it's not the best you can do, Bill... for _your_ sake. [Williams shrugs his shoulders arrogantly, and smirks that over- confident smirk.]   I mean, sure, you cost me a match against Chris The Hero. But, to me, that's about as significant as Marty Warnett's career... and we all know _that_ story. Stonebreaker, have your moment of glory.  Fame is fleeting, and on my watch, you've just had around 14 of those precious minutes. And as for you, Bill... You shouldn't have come back.  You see, I don't think of you as a blinded invalid... To me, you're the same as a Stonebreaker, Warnett or Kowalski... You're fair game... and I will _not_ be held responsible for anything I do... In fact, I'll be damn proud the day you're leaving the arena, not with a patch over your eye, not with your leg in a cast, but with a sheet pulled over your motionless body and face, blissfully unaware of an eery silence that echoes throughout the capacity crowd, broken only by the occasional crying of "Johnny Jones", who desperately wishes his hero had never come back that one last time. [Spitting the gum to the floor, Williams pushes his hair from his face.] No games, Bill... In the IIWF ring, you've regained full vision. In the IIWF ring, you live by the sword... you damn sure die by the sword. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Tony Starks ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Tony Starks stands in the IIWF Interview area. His body is still pouring with sweat from his encounter with Luke Steele. He raises his lowered head to the camera, gives a cold stare and speaks:] TS: I end careers when I see fit... not the refs, the fans or anyone else, you hear me? I do not need wins to be a man, or belts or     gimmicks or one word names with monikers. Understand?     Luke Steele... it did feel good to wipe that stupid ass grin off your face. You can't understand the feeling of the windpipe being crushed under the bone of the forearm. I could hear your pathetic attempts to gasp air, your face turning blue...     That is what my career is about...     I need nothing else but what I am. What I am... I don't claim to be the epitome of anything... I just am the pain.     Psycho, we team this week versus the Dragons... I guess I had better send a lawyer so they can get their short lives in order. [With those words, Starks walks off camera. You can hear the door to the area slam shut as he leaves. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ["Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner stands in his street clothes in the IIWF interview area. His visage looks grim.] TNT: Something bothered me on Saturday night. Something that has been bothering me for a while. Not that traitor, Derek Mota. Not that moron Lebec trying to launch himself into the title picture. Not Joe Petrow misunderstanding comments I made and quitting the singles ranks. Rather, it was the reaction of the crowd when Duncan entered the ring area. I heard great cheers... which vanished when I entered behind him. I admit that I have never courted the fans attentions. I have always done what I wanted, when I wanted and never cared what anyone else thought. That is changing. This whole incident with Derek has reminded me how important true fans are... and here I am hurting Duncan's reputation due to his association with me. That will change. Who stands before is not the Cruiserweight Champion who hid behind technicalities to avoid defending the belt. Rather it is the high-flying son of a gun who won that belt in the first place! I am once and for all the Rocket Man of the IIWF and before I am through Macbeth and Turner will be the acknowledged greatest force in the sport today! [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Real Deal" Luke Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade up from black to the IIWF interview area.  "The Real Deal" Luke Steele walks onto the set with a towel over his shoulders, and his hair soaked with water.  He isn't, to say the least, pleased.  The camera keeps a fairly tight shot on his head, a head and shoulders shot.] LS: You know, if there's one thing I can't stand it's some punk who takes offense to something that doesn't even concern him.  Stonebreaker, I'll give you one chance to stay the hell out of my business.  You almost cost me the damn match against little Tony Starks, but thank god he lost his mind and the Real Deal managed to pull off the victory afterall. [The camera pans back a little and shows Luke from the waist up.  The sweat is evidence of his match earlier, and he rubs the towel across his face.] LS: If you want me in the ring, Stoney, just sign on the dotted line.  Being the hottest wrestler in the world, I'll gladly put you in your place. [Fade down to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Christopher Stonebreaker ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera focuses in on the backstage of the IIWF in the back of the arena and Christopher Stonebreaker finally makes his way up on to the platform, with his sledgehammer over his shoulder.  The cajun doesn't move or speak for a few moments before turning to face the camera.] CS: So how many excuses can you make this time Lukey?  You know as well as I do that you were as good as dead in the ring, and did I do one thing to you? [Chris shakes his head.] CS: That's right, I never laid a hand on you.  And you know why Steele? Because I wanted you to do this on your own.  But now, it seems that you can't even do that.  You see, Steele, I guess part of what they say about you is true.  You can't lose without pointing the finger at someone to blame, and now, well, now you can't win without pointing to someone who helped you. Now I don't know why Starks decided to just walk off on you, and hand you a win.  And personally, I don't care.  But you see, Lukey, you're still going to come up with some excuse for why you did so poorly in the ring. You're going to come up with some fish story about how you dominated that match, when I was right there and saw it all.  Hell, I even made sure that all the ring equipment was working right. And sooner or later you, my friend, are going to run out of excuses. [Chris cracks a slight smile.] Heck, I probably used up half of them for you tonight.  So, Steele, I want you to get all those excuses out of the way.  Because I will get you in that ring, and when I do, you're not going to have any excuses left about why you couldn't take out the Rajun' Cajun. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "The Intrepid" Ryan Howard ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Cut to the IIWF interview area, an angry, disgruntled looking Ryan Howard having just burst upon the scene. He is apparently fresh from the IIWF training facilites, swearing a "Ring Wars IV" tank top and a pair of grey sweatpants, his duffle bag draped over his right shoulder.] RH: Finally... here you are. I've been waiting to a get a lot of weight off my shoulders... [With an exasperated sigh, he rolls his shoulder back, and the duffle falls to the ground with an audible _thump_. He just stares at the camera, and bursts into laughter, crossing his arms over his ribs. After finishing his small hoo-hah, he begins a slow pace, back and forth.] RH: No, now seriously, there are a few things that "The Intrepid" need say. Wednesday, I get to step back into an IIWF squared circle for the first time... ...against El Super Gecko. [He twirls a finger, rolling his eyes.] RH: Yay. Quick vic' for me. And then, I look down a little further on the card... past the crap... through the muck... and lo and behold, yes, there is Timothy N. Turner's name on the card, in a match against Richard "Oxy" Pad, or something to that extent. Well, Turner, I'm not gonna drag you along or keep you waiting.. [He lets out a small sigh, his eyes falling downward for a small moment in mock disdain before raising them, shaking his head, looking completely innocent.] RH: Yes... I believe I'm going to have to cost you that match. No hard feelings, okay? I still want to feel welcome at your house on Thursdays for Kool-Aid and marshmallow squares. [He winks and gives a small smooch to the camera.] RH: Love ya, Mrs.T. [He lowers his head for a few moments, turning on heel once more as he renews his trek in pacing, his head slowly beginning to shake from side to side. Raising his face back to the camera, he draws his right index finger up as well, in the most pointed of ways.] RH: And then, on Saturday. Saturday, me and some Derek Mota guy are in a tag match with "The Grandaddy of all Buggerers", Dunkme ToDeth, and TNT. Mota, I don't know who you are, I don't know what you do. In fact, you're probably one of the few guys whose mother I've never... ...met. But I'll tell you this... don't get in my damn way during this match, because you've been affiliated with Turner and MacNugget before, I believe, and I don't trust you worth a crap. So if you want to win, you just do your thing, and I'll do mine, comprende? Now get the hell outta here... [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Charles Scheffield ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera fades in on Charles Scheffield.  It appears he has a bit of a bruise on his left temple... yet it seems it has been covered by a bit of makeup of some sort.  It would be a bit disgraceful to be of high class and run around with a visible blemish.  He is currently looking downward... almost seemingly in disgrace.] CS: Saturday, I did the impossible.  I believe I shocked many viewing the show.  They saw me do the impossible... yet the inevitable... [Scheffield raises his head now.  That look of relentless will visible upon his countenance.] ...and they loved every moment of it. [A hint of a grin forms on Scheffield's face.] Yet for some reason I am not here to speak of that conquest. Yes, Deathbringer was my single greatest accomplishment. I realize that many fans of the double "I", double "U", "F" put it past me to come out victorious over Deathbringer no matter how much they had actually wanted to see it happen... strangely, I find myself in utter outrage over what happened at the end of Saturday Night rather than inexplicable glee over my conquest earlier that evening.  What Serge Annis did... with no pun intended... set me aflame inside!  And I couldn't care less about being doused in gasoline... that was only one of many cowardly acts of Annis that night.  It is what he did to Mad Dog Watkins. [At this point, Scheffield's tone of voice changes.  For once the air of confidence is not there... Scheffield seems to be almost on the verge of a sort of rage.  His voice wavers as he speaks.] I do not personally know the man... but what Annis did was certainly not right... not ethical in the least!  Annis... if Watkins is unable to exact vengeance upon you for attempting to burn him alive... you can be undoubtedly _sure_ that one day it shall be myself facing you across the ring and I shall do my utmost to make sure you do not walk out of there the same.  You went far beyond the limits of fair combat... and that is something I told the _world_ that I'm against.  I am here as a man to enforce fair one-on-one competition.  These are people... not merely things to be toyed with.  We are here simply to compete in at least some form of an honorable fashion.  I understand that the heat is turned up from time to time... but as I said before... this was going too far. [Scheffield suddenly becomes very focused... with a very angered expression on his face.  His voice becomes that of almost a growl.] Annis... you endangered many people.  You _will_ pay.  It is not at _all_ beyond my power to cripple you for life.  I am normally a peaceful man... a gentleman.  When it comes to plain scum... I shall treat them accordingly.  Keep that in mind.  _Carry_on_. [With that, the camera fades out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Deathbringer ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF interview area. The Blind Guardian is, wearing his common attire, standing in front of the camera. He's alone.] BG: Hey, Scheffield. Now you think you're one of the big boys, don't you? I heard your words after the match against my man, the Dark     Destroyer and - well, you really made me laugh!     Do you really believe that you survived that match, because you were     the superior wrestler? Do you really believe that you won the bout     because of your own talents? Do you really believe that you defeated     Death himself?     Scheffield, you did not only fail to win the match on your own, but     you did also fail to impress anyone in the hall.     Take a good long look at the end of that match again. Why was     Deathbringer counted out? Because he was too slow? No.     Why did the referee not break the count, as both of you were outside     the ring before you managed to slip into the ring again? Because     he's incapable of handling a match featuring a former champion     against a virtual nobody? Yes.     You see, Scheffield, you shouldn't be too proud about that victory.     Especially as _this_ will not have been the last time that you and     the Reaper have met in the squared circle.       The next time, which will be sooner than you expect right now,     the 'Bringer will tear you appart.     Guaranteed.     Oh, and Scheffield, I was wrong. You don't make me laugh. You make     me sick. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Fabulous Ones ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Late Saturday evening following the nights wrestling matches, inside the Fabulous Ones' locker room.  Sho Satsuma has on black slacks and dress shoes.  The Lovely Bertha is helping tape up his ribs from the nights encounter with the Prophets of Rage.  A shower can be heard in the background.] SS: Arigato, Prophets of Rage!  Yes, that’s right, I just thanked you. Sure, I’d rather be one hundred percent for my night on the town with this lovely woman... [Sho looks at Bertha who gives him a smile in return, while still working on the bandages.] SS: But, I think I’ll manage.  Let me say that it was an honor to step into the ring... or rather just battle it out with the self proclaimed “Masters of Extreme”.  It gave me a reassurance that Agito and myself weren’t wasting our time here in the Double-Eye.  I mean, let's face the facts.  As soon as we stepped foot in this organization jealousy became the norm for all the other teams.  First, Damage Inc, is defeat... wait, I mean _killed_ by the Fabs, because they couldn’t live with the jealousy they felt towards us.  The real kicker is... Ouch! [Sho winces in pain as Bertha finishes wrapping his ribs, with a tight tug.] LB: [worried look] Sorry, darling! SS: Don’t mention it.   What I was saying is they went and changed their names to reflect one of my all time favorite movies, the Lost Boyz.  Thanks a whole hell of a lot. [Just then the showers turn off and Agito Nakajima, with a towel wrapped around his waist, comes into view.  His long black hair is somewhat dry. His forehead is bandaged up.  He grabs some clothes out of his bag.] AN: I heard what you said Sho and I want to restate one thing -- Domo Arigato, Prophets!  It was one hell of a fight.  This is the kind of thing Sho and I had expected from the IIWF, but didn’t see until now.  Yes, we came here to show to our millions of fans that we are the best, but we never imagined it would be so easy.  We didn’t even set foot in the ring of the Double-Eye, when we scared the snot out of the Damage Inc/Lost Boyz duo.  Then, we dominated the Down Boys in three consecutive matches.   Made all the other teams envy us with our mastery of the battle royal at Snow Brawl.  And, to top it off, got a little revenge for the Lovely Bertha by destroying the Machines. [Agito puts on a dark blue silk button down shirt.  He raises his arm to check the time on his watch.] AN: And will you look at that?!  We did all of this in just two months. So, you can see how it would look to the finest tag team in wrestling today.  [Agito buttons up his shirt.] There didn’t seem to be any competition, but now we finally found something.  Prophets, you lived up to your billing.  The first team we’ve lock horns with here that has. However, don’t start thinking your the stuff now that you went toe to toe with us, because as I recall we got the victory.  And, don’t think you showed us up by dumping fish on us, because we like raw fish.  I’ve lived my whole life eating raw fish.  Over in Japan we call it Sashimi. [Sho stands up all dressed, haired pulled back in a pony-tail, wearing a white dress shirt and single breasted black sports coat.] SS: Thanks for the fish, but Agito and I realize you two don’t have that much money, so we’ll more than gladly pay you back two times over! [Sho walks out of view.  His voice trails off as well as Bertha’s.] SS: See you tomorrow, Agito. LB: Bye, baby doll! [Agito gives a nod, as he puts on his blue gaberdine pants.] AN: Don’t do anything I wouldn’t. [Laughter can be heard in the distance from Sho and Bertha.] AN: Prophets, arigato on the warm up.  Lost Boyz, it’s your bad timing. Sho and I are ready for war -- and you're next. [Agito slides on his dress shoes, grabs his bag and leaves.  Fade to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Paul Wong ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Paul Wong and Ms. Miki step into the IIWF interview area] PW: This week, I begin my climb up the ladder of contention.  I've got this overgrown butcher, Jimmy "The Meatman" Steele as my opponent. Steele somehow lucked his way into a title shot, which works out for me. I beat him, then I can clain a title shot. [He puts his arm around Miki.] PW: One thing I've learned is that success in one area implies success in others.  Look at the wife he hangs around with.  Now look at this goddess [points to Miki].  I'm ahead of the game there, and I'm ahead of the game in wrestling.  Miki is going to lead me to the top. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ American Dragons ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [We open on Qualcom Stadium after the big show.  The ring is still set up, and shows the scorch marks from the Annis/Watkins debacle.  The stadium is empty, fans gone home and IIWF Roadies waiting until tomorrow to tear it down. Well, not totally empty. See, the American Dragons still sit in their seats at ringside.  Joe Scalercio and Bob Ivey, in street clothes and their black and white leather jackets, remain.  Joe has his head on the railing, while Bob leans back and looks at the stars.] BI: Hell of a show, huh? JS: Yeah.  But why are we still here? BI: Because of them... [Bob points at the camera.] BI: ...we've got a Musing to do. JS: Musing?  Oh... ah, right.  We're obligated. BI: Yessiree.  JS: Well, if so, mind if I do the talking? BI: Go ahead.  I'm staring at the stars. [Bob leans his head back while Joe looks at the camera.] JS: Sheer mayhem.  You call this wrestling?  This?  Here we are, looking to enjoy a night of tag team wrestling...and you give us this dribble? Two teams who can't even get in the ring for more then ten seconds, but instead tear the place apart?     Where's the honor in that?     Honor, gentlemen, is standing where the Lord put you.  And you went     and settled everything... like little boys.     At least the Down Boys... a team WE have respect for... and those     painted Harelquins... two team that are ridiculed, but still have     enough guts to get in the ring and settle it man to man.... BI: We're done. JS: What?  I'm just getting started... BI: Save it for Friday.  These are short and sweet. JS: Okay.  Anyway, IIWF, let's end with this... [Joe and Bob stand up, and turn around, showing the back of their jackets, and the Dragons, to the camera.] BOTH: Any team, any time... [Fade out on the logos.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "The Savior" Simon Lebec ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Camera opens inside the scene of a church, the same church as before. "The Savior" Simon Lebec is standing in front of the baptismal basin, with his back to the camera.  As the camera zooms in to his backside, it appears as if Lebec is urinating in the basin, as we hear a "leaking" sound.] SL: AHHHHHHHHHHH YEEEAAAAAHHHH!  That's th' ticket! [As Lebec finishes, he zips up and looks at the basin, shaking his head:] Gotta talk to them people 'bout the indoor plummin' 'round here. [Lebec looks around, grabbing a pamphlet titled "Baptisms for Dummies".] Now... where was I?  Step one... find yerself a baby.  Okay, got that! [Lebec picks up a small, cute baby from the seat of the pew.  He holds the baby high, into the camera's view and smiles.] Wrapped in swaddlin' clothes, and lyin' in a manger... a King was born! [Lebec, holding the baby in one arm, continues reading:] Step two... find yerself a basin filled wit Holy Water.  A basin? [Lebec looks at the diagram in the pamphlet, then looks at the basin which he has just urinated in.] Aw, damn! Would ya look at that!  Sorry kid, it'll have ta do. [Lebec walks towards the basin with child in hand.] Step three... find th' kid a name.  A name? [Lebec ponders for a moment.] I'll call ya Turbstra.  Ya look like a Turbstra!  Step four... blah... blah... okay, we'll skip that there crap. I christen you... Turbstra... in the name of th' Father, th' Son, and th' Holy Spirit! [Lebec smiles, obviously happy with his progress in his first ever baptism.] Y'see, Baby Turbstra, Duncan Macbeth ain't never had no proper Christian baptism.  He's a pagan who eats cow intestine.  That's why he's goin' ta Hell one day.  Ya don't wanna go ta Hell, do ya? [Lebec looks at the baby, awaiting an answer as if the kid can actually talk.] Okay, step five... sprinkle Holy Wat... ta Hell with that! Come on kid, yer going fer a much needed bath!  I smelled landfills wit' better scent! [Lebec takes the baby, and places him in the urine-filled basin.  The child, drowning in excrement, beigns to cry aloud.] There ya go, kid, yer God's child now.  Now b'quiet! [Lebec picks up the crying baby by the leg, dangling the poor child upside down.] Aw... come on Baby Turbstra!  Quit that there hollerin'!  I got a hard candy or somethin' fer ya!  Do ya smoke?  I gotta smoke.  Yes, that's it.  Good natured, Southern t'bacca!  That'll calm ya! [Lebec tries to produce his cigarette pack, when all of a sudden, two armed police officers and a screaming lady run into the church.] SCREAMING LADY: THAT'S MY CHILD!  OFFICERS, THAT'S THE MAN WHO STOLE MY BABY!  OH GOD!  LITTLE LEROY!  MY BABY! [One of the officers snatches the baby from Lebec, who is quick to pipe up before the officers grab him.] SL: Now hold on there, young lass.  I was just givin' yer son a proper Christian baptism!  I never did no mean no harm!  Yer kid is fine!  In fact, he's now a member of the church! [The officer holding the baby gives a disgusted look.] OFFICER: Damn!  Pardon my language, Reverend.  How come this kid smells like breakfast cereal? [Lebec, quite with a response:] SL: 'Cause, m'good man of th' law... the Lord is Apple Jacklicious!  That's ahh... err... actually written in that... ah... part o' th' Bible that no one reads.  Darryl 3:16, I believe. [The officer gives Lebec a strange look, then nods.] OFFICER: Well Mrs. Jenkins, it appears that your child is okay, and the good Reverend here was only trying to help.  Do you wish to press charges? [The woman thinks for a few seconds, then looks at Lebec.] WOMAN: No officer, that's okay.  He didn't mean any harm. [The officers and the woman say their goodbyes to Lebec.  Once gone, Lebec looks into the camera with a grin, showing off his collar.] SL: Membership certainly does have its privileges. [Lebec winks to the camera as it fades.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+