C + O + U + N + T + D + O + W + N T + O ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/..............\........|...|.......|....| with Larry Morton February 6, 1998 [The shot opens to see Larry Morton sitting on the new Countdown set of two comfortable chairs and a low table. Larry is in the left chair and the right sits empty.] LM: Welcome IIWF fans to Countdown to IIWF Saturday Night! The second best weekly commentary show in the sport... but working hard! Before we bring in our special guest to discuss tomorrow's exciting card... let's look at the return of Wednesday's War Room! Hosted by... well... me! That means I host as many shows as Tim Dross and Steve Roberts! But do I get the accolades? No. Do I get the free t-shirts? No. Do I get the fame and notariety? No. However, I do get... wait and see! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| REWIND: IIWF Wednesday War Room - 4 February 1998 |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... The American Dragons def. The Rotundos "The Intrepid" Ryan Howard def. El Super Gecko Ike Sampson def. Scott "The Whine" Bloom "The Savior" Simon Lebec def. The Masked Terror Jimmy "The Meatman" Steele def. Paul Wong Edmund Fitzgerald and Steve Manning fought to a double count-out "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner def. Richard "Moxy" Blue by DQ Tragedy and Deathbringer had a no contest LM: The return of Wednesday's War Room proved to be a great show with some interesting results, including Edmund Fitzgerald's attempt to put Steve Manning out of wrestling... Ryan Howard, Derek Mota, and Duncan Macbeth getting involved in the Turner/Blue match, including Mota costing Blue the match... and the Harlequins managing to unmask Deathbringer! As great as the card was it was mere prologue to this Saturday! [A big grin creeps onto Larry's face.] LM: Now we will see why I am luckier than Tim and Steve and why Rusty will finally get the ratings he wants. My guest host is... [“Beautiful Girls” by Van Halen cuts Larry off mid-sentence. Larry looks towards the wings, and there he sees the vivacious Ms. Miki walking towards the set. She’s decked out in a gray pinstripe, Donna Karen original, suit. The top consisting of a low cut vest, and the slacks are tight in the rear and thighs, flaring out at the calf area. She sets down next to Larry.] MM: Konbanwa, Larry-kun. I bet you're happy I didn’t no-show you like Mota did last week. LM: Definitely. MM: I’m a business woman, and I know how to make my appointments. Look at my business dealings... The Fabulous Ones for instance. They are, in just two short months, at the top of the tag team scene here in the good ol' Double-Eye. Wouldn’t you say Morton-san? [Before Larry can reply, Shawn Kilpatrick walks onto the set. He’s carrying a magazine.] SK: Ms. Miki, would you be so kind as to sign my Playboy? MM: Of course. LM: Um... Shawn? We are trying to do a show here. I guess Ms.Miki's appearance here was too much for our assistant producer. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| PREVIEW: IIWF Saturday Night - 7 February 98 |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... LM: This Saturday Night we have eight great matches including two title matches and another featuring another of the IIWF gold-wearers. We could be seeing a title change hands tomorrow night! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF World Championship Match Steve "The Fury" Kowalski vs. Jimmy "The Meatman" Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: What a main event! Other than Brody Thunder, Jimmy Steele was the last man to beat Steve Kowalski. Kowalski seems to think that he can clean the slate by beating the Meatman now. Now that Shawn has received his personally autographed Ms.Miki issue of Playboy let's ask our guest... what do you think of the Meatman's chances? MM: The Meatman, huh? I’d have to say he doesn’t have a prayer against Kowalski-san. The “Fury” quite possibly could be the best singles wrestler in the IIWF. The only Steele who would have a chance against Steve-kun would be Luke Steele, but he’s not wrestling him. Anyways, what’s with the meat thing? LM: No one's quite sure... but the fans are sure eating it up! [Larry looks quite proud of his pun but Miki gives him a disdainful look.] LM: Uh... let's look at some comments. [The Amber Bug, deep in the heart of Newark, New Jersey. Going through the refuse that are the patrons of this bar, sits the Steve “the Fury” Kowalski. He is watching the conclusion of the last IIWF Saturday Night on a nearby television. The TV set shows Serge Annis burning the ring and all hell breaking loose. A few of the other customers look in shock at the inferno. Comments like: "Holy [BLEEP]!" And "that man needs a hug." are spoken throughout the room. The bartender asks...] BA: Jeez, Fury! Were you stuck in that mess? SK: Nah, I said my piece an’ took off. I didn’t know about it ‘til it came on the news later. Damn near burned the joint down. Anus is one outta control muther[BLEEP]er. Spreadbury calls me up an’ asks me if I’m okay. I say, "[BLEEP]. Since when do ya care?" BA: What’d he say? SK: "Since ya became champ." At least he was honest. But now I don’t know if I got an opponent fer the invitational. The way it looks from here, Mad Dog probably got toasted pretty good. BA: So does Annis get the shot Mad Dog was gettin’? SK: No. He has to wait. I’m all fer takin’ it to the limit but burnin’ a ring down... Jackass. I should put that Zippo up his can. BA: Who’s this Meathead guy you’re hooking up with on Saturday? His real name is Jimmy Steele, right? So is he related to that Luke Steele cat? SK: He’s this new guy, that gotta pin on me when Brody made his presence known... if ya know what I mean. So I figger, we gotta clear the air an’ drop his ass. ‘Sides, it’d be too easy fer me to do what Spreadbury wants, so I pick someone at the bottom of the food chain. [A rather ragged gentleman waddles up to the bar and pulls the stool next to the Fury. But before he can sit the champ kicks it over, hinting he should pick another seat. Intelligently the little man moves to the other side of the bar.] SK: Where was I? BA: Are they brothers? SK: Oh, yeah. I ain’t sure, really. Maybe they were separated at birth or sumpthin’. But I’ll tell ya what, if Cool Hand Luke thinks to bring his weak ass down ringside, I’ll show him who the Real Deal is. [The bartender pops open another beer and pours a shot for the New Jersey Nightmare. Downing the shot and drowning the beer, the Fury stands up and tosses some cash on the bar.] BA: Wait a sec, Fury! Before you go, the guys want to know who to bet on Saturday: you or Meathead? SK: [smiling] What’d ya think? [The bar breaks out in laughter as the champ heads out. Fade.] [Rapid-fire video montage: a hulking figure sits in darkness. IIWF crowd chants "Skull-Pump, skull-pump, skull-pump, skull-pump!" Shot of Meatman throwing opponent over top rope at Snow Brawl. IIWF crowd chants "Meat, meat, meat,meat!" Hulking figure in medium close-up. Some features can be discerned. IIWF crowd chants "Skull-Pump, skull-pump, skull-pump, skull-pump!" Meatman throws another competitor out of ring at Snow Brawl. Crowd chants "Meat, meat, meat, meat!" Worm's eye view of Meatman's upper body and face, partially clad in shadow. Crowd chants "Skull-Pump, skull-pump, skull-pump!" I.P.S of tape is slightly slow, sounds munchkin-like. Meatman hits Deathbringer over the head with back of meat cleaver. Crowd chants, "Meat, meat, meat!" Volume is louder, with reverb. Extreme close-up of Meatman, his head shaved ala Brando's Colonel Kurtz. His face is stern as stone, his eyes fixed in a thousand yard stare. Crowd chants, "Skull-Pump, skull-pump, skull-pump," but it is ridiculously high pitched. Shot of Meatman as he pins Kowalski for the three count. Crowd chants "Meat, meat, meat" in a thunderous cacophany, a million man chant. Meatman stares into camera. His head dissolves into the head of a wild boar. The boars head bursts into flame. Insert title: "The Meat is on." Fade back to the studio.] LM: The Meatman is certainly... odd... but does he have what it takes to defeat the IIWF Champion? ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF World Tag Team Championship The Natural Predators vs. Team Sychosys ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: The second big title match involves the champions and the team who actually won the title shot for Snow Brawl! Will Team Sychosys be able to strip the Predators in thier first defense? MM: Team Sychosys? Hhhmmmm... [She taps her chin while looking upwards] Who are they now? First it’s with Petrow, now who? Well, since it can’t be good whoever the team members are, and the fact that they’re associated with Petrow, I’ll have to go with the World champions, Natural Predators. Besides, that Bear guy is pretty huge. I can’t see too many men being able to throw him around the ring, except maybe... ”The Universal Heartthrob” Agito Nakajima, and the big guy from the Prophets of Rage. LM: Derek Rage. MM: Yeah, whoever. LM: Both teams had comments pertaining to this match. Let's start with an excerpt from another show where the Natural Predators appeared this week. [Video clip, customary entrance to "Space Ghost Coast to Coast":] SG: Greetings, citizens! I am Space Ghost! With me as always are Zorak and Moltar! Z: At least until I can find my way out of this contract... SG: What was that? Z: Oh, nothing, Tad... just get on with it... SG: Tonight's special guests are Kuyler Greyson and the Natural Predators... Zorak, what are you doing? [cut to clip of Zorak, with a mask.] Z: Well, Kuyler has a Bear... and a phoenix... maybe he could manage... "THE LOCUST!" SG: Uh... yeah... you have a finishing move too, I gather... Z: Yep! I call it "The Decapitator".... SG: And what do you do? Z: I BITE the guy's head off! [cut to Moltar] M: Geek... [back to Zorak] Z: Wanna see? SG: I don't think so...let's call out our guests, Kuyler Greyson and the Natural Predators! Greetings citizens! [TV is lowered on the animated set, showing the taped feed of the Predators] KG: Hello Space Ghost. B: Heya. SG: So, you are the IIWF tag team champions, yes? GP: That's right. SG: But by the time this hits re-runs you might not be. B: [laughing] I hope that's not the case. SG: Why would you even put the titles on the line? You have no reason to sacrifice your greatness! Do like me! Retire as a legend! Z: Or a joke... SG: I heard that! [Space Ghost fires a beam and blows up Zorak] KG: See, a championship shouldn't be guarded against defense... it's gotta be proven time and again. You've blown up Zorak before... why do you do it now? Over and over? SG: Because it's fun! B: And to prove you still can. That's what being a champion is all about. Proving yourself once is a great thing... but you have to keep proving it. SG: Grey Phoenix, you used to be a Wolf, is that correct? GP: [laughs] That's right, Space Ghost. SG: Where's your fur? GP: I shaved it off to become the Grey Phoenix. SG: That makes sense! Z: In some twisted way... B: You know, I kinda like that bug guy...Kind of reminds me of Reggie Starr... GP: You know, I see a resemblance too.... SG: Kuyler, you were a wrestler yourself once. Now you are a manager. Do you like being a manager? KG: Yeah, Sapce Ghost...I do. SG: I used t be a manager as well... M: Yeah, at Burger King... SG: SHUT UP! We'll be right back with more of the Natural Predators! [Fade as if for a commercial break, then fade back up on the animated set.] SG: Welcome back! My guests are the IIWF tag team champions, the Natural Predators! GP: A pleasure to be here. SG: Are you hard-core wrestlers? B: [laughing] No...if we were, we probably wouldn't be on your show. SG: So you're soft-centered? [All three laugh] B: Well, if you put it that way... KG: No, hard-core means they like the blood and guts style of wrestling instead of skill against skill... guys like Serge Annis and IIWF champ Steve Kowalski are more "hard-core". SG: I see....do you think they would do this show? GP: I doubt it... they don't like the kids much. SG: Then they are villains! You should smite them! KG: Nah... Smoting is bad for your health. SG: And theirs! [Stage laugh... Space Ghost goes overboard... clips of the Predators and Zorak staring at him.] B: Yeah... but this is aired Feb. 6, right? Z: Yeah... earth time, anyway... SG: That's right... who are you facing next? B: Well, tomorrow, we face Team Sychosys... Joe Petrow and Maurice McArthur. SG: What silly names! What are their real names? GP: Joe Petrow and Maurice McArthur.... [Silence... fade in blush on Space Ghost] Z: [on phone] Yeah, Maurice? You should come on the show next week... yeah... this is Zorak... yeah... B: Our first title defense... SG: Oh yes! Your first title defense! Will you lose? KG: [laughs] I hope not... SG: Then you will win! I will help you with my power beams! GP: Power beams are kind of illegal.... SG: Then how do you vanquish evil? B: We use our bare hands.... SG: Ewww...... [Cut to Zorak, standing on top of the keyboard in silly outfit, who pounces Space Ghost] Z: Cross body! SG: Agh! [They animated "tussle".] KG: Guess the interview's over.... [Credits play. Cut to the next clip.] [The setting is a tastefully decorated interview room, three chairs around a round table. At one end of the table sits Tim Dross, looking as professional as his slight body abnormalities will allow for. The other end features the intimidating forces of TS: "Mr. Majestyk" Maurice McArthur, looking dapper in his best suit, still fumbling around with the small trophy he was holding last week, contrasted by a laid back "Sychosys" Joe Petrow, dressed in his Olympic sports warmup outfit, leaning back in his chair, both men still sporting the "Quickstrike" sunglasses. Upon seeing a cue from his producer, Tim Dross speaks:] TD: Welcome everyone, to this very special up close and personal interview segment with "Sychosys" Joe Petrow and Team Sychosys, dictated by _you_ the fans of the IIWF! With me at this time is, of course, team members Maurice McArthur and Joe Petrow. Guys, thanks for being here today. JP: My pleasure Mr. Dross, it will be a pleasure working with you and your _award winning_ ass tonight. TD: Well, I suppose that's as close to a compliment I'm gonna hear from you, so I guess I'll just... [McArthur looks up and starts to throw a wobbly] 4M: Y..yu...you know, mine's bigger than yours is! [Joe glances over, and tries to reassure his partner] JP: Mac, c'mon, this is no time to start arguing about whose is bigger than whose. Let's just accept the fact that in this room, we have three people who are all the very best in the world at what they do, and leave it at that, okay. [Maurice seems satisfied with this, and returns to staring at his prize] TD: Uhum, well, anyway, we have this fan question to address first. JP: Yes, that's what I am here for tonight. I intend to answer every single one of the questions you received as truthfully, and as honestly as I can. Fire away, Timbo. [Tim Dross looks slightly uncomfortable, adjusting his tie as he reads the letter he holds in front of him.] TD: Well, this is from martymark@party_world.com, who writes: "Crazy Joe, you claim to be the Icon of the dubba-eye, whereas we all know the Party Maniac is our one true hero ... who do you fear most, Kauffman or Hollyduck and the Duck World Order?" [Dross nervously awaits Petrow's response...but Sychosys is surprisingly calm and serious in his response] JP: Hmmm...I'd like to address that first comment before the question itself. I don't really have any problem with Marty Warnett, I mean he's been around the IIWF almost since day one, and he broke a lot of ground in this federation before I even got here. I've never had the opportunity to met Marty in the ring, although my partner had a match with him that unfortunately ended rather inconclusively, and we never did find out who the better man was there. Nonetheless, I think that a match between us would be a great treat for the fans, and if the powers that be see fit to set it up, I'm all for it. Regarding the question itself, I don't think there's a man, woman, or boy who fears Dan Kauffman anymore. Well, maybe some of the boys do, but that has nothing to do with Mr. Kauffman's wrestling ability. As for the dWo, the Duck Savior is Team Sychosys thru and thru, and he's willing to go anytime. I've said it before, and it bears repeating, as the only interspecies group in sports entertainment, we back down from no man and no fowl. TD: ...okay...well, that's all for the fan letters tonight, so now I'd ask some of the questions that I'm sure everybody out there is wondering about, such as JP: Wait a minute, Dross. What do you mean "that's all for the fan letters tonight?" That's what I'm here for, c'mon, keep them coming! TD: Well...that was the only letter I received. JP: ...I see. Well, I guess I can't blame them. I mean, I wouldn't be caught dead writing to a webtv account myself. [Petrow sighs] So I guess this interview is over, thanks for your time. [Petrow gets up to leave] TD: Wait a minute! I thought I could ask... JP: Don't go bumpin' yer gums on me, Hoss. 'Fact is, I don trust any of you suits as far as I can throw ya, and I reckon I can't throw you all that far! So unless ya want to gits yer squash knocked upside yer knoggin son, I reckon ya better let me do the yappin' now! Actually, I do have one more thing to talk about. I'd like to talk about the Natural Predators, stealing the glory and the titles that should have been ours at Snow Brawl. The team that inspires us by the simple fact that they're so uninspirational. We ain't had us a strong set of IIWF tag champs in a long time, and we sure ain't gonna see it with teams like the Predators, the Boys and the Boyz, Harlequin Heat, the Prostates, and we sure as hell ain't gonna see it with some throw-together team like Dungman Macbeth and Tina Turner! Quite frankly, Team Sychosys is the only hope the tag division has for saving itself. And until Spreadbury sends out a half-dozen people to stop us, as he does for all my title matches, TS is gonna show the Natural Predators just how outclassed they are! Yeah, I'd like to talk about that, but I suppose now I have to waste the rest of my time talking about my shadow, Shadoe Rage. Rage, I don't even know where to _begin_ to pick you apart! But let's start with your favorite kayfabe breaking subject. Yeah, you're finally gonna make me talk about the FWLI. Just this once. And then, never again. Fact is, I never wrestled in the FWLI. Not once. Because it was the final slap in the face to anyone who was ever a fan of the RSPCW. I worked my ass off in that league. Won the belts to prove it. And you'd be a goddamned liar if you said I was anything _but_ an outsider over there. Only reason they put up with me is the only reason they put up with me around here. Because I _am_ that good! I gave up everything I had for that league. I surrendered my World title because I hadn't had a chance to defend it in over two months. I gave up the longest running feud in my career because it was the right thing to do. And when it died... I worked myself to the bone to put that league on life support, just so I could see it have a decent burial. It's been an off and on lifetime battle with the "clique" ever since. I came back to wrestling, _completely_ changed my image! I got not one ounce of residual influence from the man I used to be! I started from scratch, and I proved my detractors wrong by climbing to the mountaintop all over again! You talk about Destructo and Quigley? Who can you thank for them being gone? Me! Who can you thank for _this_ league and not that league being the number one wrestling organization in the world today? [Petrow stands up] ME! Because I _am_ the phenom, the showstopper, the ICON that takes the time to do it all and do it right in AND out of the ring! _That_ is my legacy, not what you've tried to spin doctor it into, Shadoe! And what about you? What about this big bad "outsider", using the FWLI in vain? You still compete there! You and that hypocrite Derek still wrestle there, still working your oh-so-tired "we're getting screwed" schtick that became lame over a year ago! And what's this I hear you saying over there? "PETROW FOR PRESIDENT!" Flaming me to my face, and kissing my ass behind my back? Jesus Christ, you're such a basket case you can't even suck up right! And _I'm_ the symbol of the oppresive FWLI elite? [Petrow rips off his sunglasses, his right eye squeezed shut, and his left eye wide open, and screams into the camera] JP: YOU'RE THE ONE WHO PERPETUATES IT, YOU FLAMING IDIOT! [Petrow puts his glasses back on, and takes his seat again] JP: Y'know Shadoe, you're a lot like Derek. You got no imagination, no vision. You're a parasite, leaching off the fame and individuality of others. Like Unique before you, you want me to make you a star, huh? But at least Unique Allah was funny, and gave the pretense of a fair fight. You done your homework, Shadoe. You know you've picked the prime time to fight me. You know my mind is on a lot of things, like our one and only shot at the tag titles, and the guys in Nagano. I'm giving up Opening Ceremonies, a once in a lifetime dream for all athletes, for what I have to go through this Saturday night. And I might as well tell you I'm not feeling so hot myself. I got an infection in my right eye, my knee still hurts from slamming Destructo, and I got a nasty case of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome going on [shakes his left hand in front of the camera] So yeah, you know that next week is the best shot you're ever gonna have at me. But guess what, baby? That doesn't mean one goddamned thing. If I'm only 70% mentally, and 70% physically, that just means I have to go at you 160% sychopathically! Cause like my good friend Steve Hosey used to say, "You either run with the big dogs, or you sleep with the fishes!" That fish fetish more than anything kept him out of the big leagues, but that's besides the point! If you insist upon being a time capsule of a period I don't particularly want to be reliving all my life...then you must be eradicated! Don't think this is the beginning of no jihad, Shadoe Rage. This ends on Saturday Night. I start with you on Saturday night, and I finish with you on Saturday night. And I'll see you in HELL before you stop TS from becoming the IIWF World Tag Team Champions! C'mon Mac! [McArthur gets up, holds his trophy in front of Tim Dross' face, and walks out of the shot, as Petrow turns to make a parting comment.] JP: Oh, Derek, was that "inside" enough for you? [Petrow turns in disgust and walks out of the shot, as the focus returns to Tim Dross.] TD: Well...I didn't get to ask the questions I had hoped for...but to be honest, that's about as close to the inside of Joe Petrow's mind as I want to be. This is Tim Dross, and this had been your special up-close and personal interview with "Sychosys" Joe Petrow! [Fade out.] LM: Joe Petrow, taking some time out from his grueling Olympic schedule to appear on this show...he's the only wrestler to also be an Olympian...curler! Check him out at http://www2.gol.com/users/poyopoyo/olympics/nagano98/curling/petrow.html LM: Is he as good a curler as he is a wrestler? We'll see soon! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Derek Mota and "The Intrepid" Ryan Howard vs. "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner and Duncan Macbeth ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: This match has a lot of grudges in it! Mota turned on Macbeth and Turner and then tried to rejoin them. They wouldn't allow it and now he is angry with them again! Meanwhile, the last time Ryan Howard was in the IIWF his career was nearly ended by Macbeth and Turner! Whose anger and desire will win out? MM: This match I could care less about. However, I’ll go with the Turner and Macbeth-san combination, because one of their opponents stiffed the “Countdown” show last week, Derek Mota. When you sign a contract you have to live up to it. [She looks away.] Rusty, ratings time! LM: Not again! [Producer Rusty Priske runs onto the set for an opportunity to gloat about the great ratings that come from having such a beautiful woman on the set.] LM: I think our producer better watch it... his wife watches the show! Let's go to the clips. [The sound of water dripping reverberates as the camera begins shooting. We are in a bathroom, the lights all off, with light coming in from another room. The faucet is leaking slightly, providing us with that horribly annoying echo of water. The camera pans across the room to a pair of arms which are being held out by someone whom which we still can't see. The man turns on the hot water and lets it run. To his right, we see a single razor blade, already caked in dried blood. The man's arms are already covered with deep cuts, all of which look to have been made only a few days before ... but yet he still lives. Steam is now pouring out of the bathroom. The camera maneuvers around and we see that it is Derek Mota who is now holding the razor blade in his hand ... hovering over his arm ... over his already once-failed suicide attempt. We see his face in the mirror ... and there is nothing but despair. The blade plunges ... ... and stops. A single drop of blood falls into the sink, quickly merging into the hot water, with only a small streak of pink down the side to even mark that it was ever there. The blade drops into the sink as we see Derek staring at himself in the mirror. For an almost painfully long amount of time. The look of despair on his face has changed to emptiness. And finally, the metamorphosis changes as Mota stares down at his scarred and mangled arms, and lashes out at the mirror, smashing it into a thousand pieces! Pieces of the mirror are everywhere, and Derek grabs one, holding it in his hand, twirling it around curiously.] DM: Guess it's seven years bad luck. That's assuming that I even let you live that long, Macbeth and Turner. You had your chance at redemption. And instead you cost us the match at Snow Brawl. You had your chance at friendship. And instead you made me break inta your home. But this Saturday it's all gonna end, boys. I'm gonna snuff ya out. All the torture ... all the pain ... it's all gonna come back to ya... [With that, Mota puts the piece of shattered glass into his pocket and puts on the black fingerless glove that he is now becoming reknowned for. He stands there, clenching his gloved fist in an almost sick sense of satisfaction as the camera fades to black.] [SCENE: A cafe across the street from the Delta Arena in Salt Lake City, Utah. The customers in the cafe look up in surprise and disbelief as the IIWF Intercontinental Champion, Duncan Macbeth, and the "Rocket Man", Timothy N. Turner, stride through the front doors and take a seat in the corner. As Macbeth stares through the window at the arena opposite the diner, Turner peruses the menu, and frowns.] TNT: [sighs] Well, Duncan, nobody can say you've lost the common touch, but this is _really_ common, my friend. We're a long way from the Ace Of Clubs - this dump doesn't even have a bar list! Where do you have to go in this hick town to get a drink, anyway? DM: Relax, Tim, I reckon 'tis th' local custom. Besides [winking], I took th' liberty o' "importin'" a wee dram, just in case, wha'! [Macbeth reaches under the table into his equipment bag, and pulls out a bottle of Dalwhinnie single malt Scotch, setting it on the table in front of Turner, who chuckles at the expressions of the nearby customers, who obviously disapprove of alcoholic beverages.] TNT: Ah, I always can count on you Duncan! Let's have some more man! DM: Ye ken, Tim, it's becomin' more an' more obvious jus' who th' top draws in th' IIWF are these days, is it no'? Jus' have a look at who's been showin' up t' our matches these days -- Simon Lebec, "Poxy" Blue, Ike "Wee Dog" Sampson, th' Incontinent Opie Howard - all tossers who're tryin' t' ride t' fame on th' coattails o' Tim Turner and Duncan Macbeth! TNT: Are you surprised? We have the talent. We have the strength. We have the natural good looks...well, I do anyway. [Duncan smirks as Turner continues.] TNT: The fans know it...the brass knows it...even the hacks in the business know it. We are the future of the IIWF. DM: I must admit, there was none more surprised as me when tha' nutcase Lebec stuck 'is nose in t' me match wi' Mota las' week. I dinnae ken how ye got yuir "get out o' th' loony bin free" card, Lebec, but ye're treadin' on shaky ground when ye interfere in me business, mate. Sae, ye think me some sort o' demon, do ye? Well, ye did no' miss th' mark by much. I'm no demon, Lebec - I'm more like a hellhound, wha'. An' I'll be th' hellhound on yuir bleedin' trail if ye show yuir face in one o' me matches ag'in. An' if I get me hands on ye, all th' Bibles an' crucifixes an' holy water in all o' Creation won't save ye from bein' excommunicated from th' IIWF, an' sent back t' th' rubber room ye came from, ye screwloose. TNT: You want crazy...look at Moxy! This guy blows his big chance to win the Cruiserweight title so he runs out and picks up some monster who failed to take one guy to the top. Give it up, Dicky! You will never be at the level of Turner and Macbeth! DM: Then we've got Ike Sampson, th' so-called "winner" o' Future Bowl I. What a bleedin' joke, wha'. All o' th' IIWF kens tha' th' only reason ye won tha' match, Sampson, was on account o' me bein laid out like a mackeral at market after Mota cold-cocked me wi' a chair! But tha' was a long time ago, an' th' only reason it's even worth mentionin' is when ye look at wha' the three o' us have accomplished since then. Derek Mota -- Cruiserweight Champion. Duncan Macbeth -- Intercontinental Champion. Ike Sampson? How about "Sidekick T' Th' Stars"? While Mota an' meself have been winnin' titles, on our own, mind, ye've been suckin' up t' th' likes o' Creed, Watkins, Starks, an' th' Prophets, with nothin' t' show fer it. An' in th' end, they all dumped ye, like th' "extra baggage" ye are, an' always will be. They should hae called it th' No Future Bowl, wha'. At least tha' would explain how ye managed t' come out o' tha' match wi' th' win. Sae don't keep borin' me wi' this "Future Bowl II" tripe, Sampson, jus' 'cause ye're sae desperate fer attention ye have t' try t' relive th' one pathetic definin' moment o' yuir IIWF career. Nobody cares. Least of all, _me_. TNT: So tomorrow we have a match with Mota and Howard. Derek...don't seek revenge...seek help. I was incredibly angry at you for your betrayal. Now I only feel sorry for you. You obviously couldn't take the fact that you were being left in the dust. Do you remember the Morrissey song "We hate it when our friends become successful"? DM: All I have t' say about th' Incontinent" Opie Howard is this, an' I'll try t' use small words, sae tha' he'll understand me. Opie, ye've always had a big mouth. Ye've certainly proven tha' ye can trash-talk, an' aye, ye've taken th' plainly obvious approach, an' made fun o' me kilt. How bleedin' imaginative, wha'. Ye ken, I've been doin' this fer a lang, lang time, Opie, an' I've heard all th' jokes an' insults before, an' yuirs certainly weren't th' most original I've e'er heard, but I'll jus' chalk tha' up t' yuir ignorance an' immaturity. 'Cause I, Tim, an' th' whole IIWF ken, Opie, tha' ye cannae back up a single thing tha' comes out o' yuir big yap once ye step in th' ring. Las' time ye showed yuir ugly mug 'round 'ere, Tim an' I took turns slappin' ye 'round like a red-headed stepchild before we took pity on ye an' decided t' put ye out o' yuir misery. We really did feel sorry fer ye, ye ken, 'cause ye jus' looked sae out o' place once ye came out from th' interview studio an' stepped in t' th' ring. 'Cause it takes more than a big mouth t' make it in th' IIWF, tosser, an' tomorrow nigh', we're goin' t' show ye tha' ye just don't have wha' it takes t' hang 'ere. We're goin' t' send ye cryin' back t' yuir mommy, Opie. Jus' like th' last time. Only this time, ye won't be comin' back. TNT: There won't be any excuses for Howard and Mota. You've got the two top athletes in the business. You don't have a chance! [Fade.] LM: I don't know if Mota and Howard can stop a team like those two! We'll find out tomorrow! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Subway Psycho and Tony Starks vs. the American Dragons ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: Have the impressive newcomers bitten off more than they can chew here? These two New Yorkers are brutal and they have been known to injure when a pin would do. MM: Psycho and Starks-san, two older wrestlers doing their collective best to stay in the game. Too bad they’re in a tag division with the Fabulous Ones, because otherwise, they’d have a chance at greatness. On the other side of the match are the newcomers, the American Dragons. I don’t think they have a chance against the aging veterans. I’m going with the old men. LM: I don't know that I would call them old... they are still on the top of their game! Let's see what they had to say! [Scene: A dark night in an erily quiet part of New York City. A hard rain falls as wind swept trash fly to and fro. A dark figure emerges from a shadowy area of the ground. As the tall figure stands up straight his long trench coat bellows with the wind, as does his long stringy hair, which along with his wide brimmed hat, conceals his face. The figure walks foward determinedly, only to stop at the steps of a deserted building. Down the stairs comes another man, his head hidden behind a tatered towel placed over his head. The two figures stand shoulder to shoulder...never looking at each other...only foward.] SP: Never take anything for granted. That's one thing I've learned living on and under these streets. That goes for in the wrestling ring too. On Saturday Night Tony Starks and myself will once again team up to create one cohesive unit. There were times when one would think the two of us would ever work together...we proved those doubters wrong. Then there were those who thought our alliance was as unshakable as bedrock...that theory was also proven wrong. And now I've been hearing that people have been taking it for granted that Starks and I would never team again...we're about to prove those people wrong all over again. TS: Doubts...yeah, I know about that. See, you got a bunch of new young bucks in the IIWF, like the Dragons. You got a bunch of jackass announcers like Steve Roberts. Hell, man, most of the world thinks that we are just two old school guys...whose time as come and past, or, in my case, never came at all. I gotta say this...me and this man right here, we are all old school. I remember when things used to be chaos in the IIWF. We fed off that chaos. Things have changed now... Everything is too predictable. We have to change that. First way I can do that is by showing everyone what my real intentions are... Psycho knows, I know... the Dragons. [Starks cracks an evil grin.] They are gonna know too. Me and this man are old school. Real damn Old Testament. There won't be any turning cities to salt and killing of the first born. Only thing happenin' will be the slaughter of the complacent IIWF. You understand me? Don't really matter if you do... All your throats will, though. [Fade.] [It's high noon in Salt Lake City on Friday. We find ourselves looking at the Delta Center, home of the Utah Jazz of the NBA, site of many events at the 2002 Winter Olympics... and the arena hosting IIWF Saturday Night this weekend. Standing in front of the arena, bags slung across their backs, looking up at the Delta Center in all its glory, are Joe Scalercio and Bob Ivey, the American Dragons. Both men were blue jeans, and their leather jackets. The logos on the back are blocked by the gym bags as both men stare. Joe wears black sunglasses, and Bob has on a tan cowboy hat.] BI: Partner, we've arrived. JS: So... this is it. The big time at last... BI: Oh, come off it! You sound like we're world weary travellers finally arriving at Shangra-La! JS: I find myself thinking more of Odysseus. [Bob shakes his head.] BI: Uh, Joe... THIS IS OUR FIRST TV MATCH! EVER! We lucked out and got signed to our first fed! We didn't fight our way through the minor leagues and second-rate feds to finally end up here... we tried out and got signed. JS: True... to some, that's a point in their favor. To them, the IIWF brass signed us as cannon fodder... we're two young idealistic rookies who are going to serve as dinner for all these established teams... that they signed us because they needed ANYONE to fill the ranks... when the truth is... [Joe takes off his sunglasses and put them into his jacket pocket.] JS: ...we got snapped up by the Mighty IIWF because we're that damn good. BI: Amen, partner! Amen! [Bob turns, and notices the camera crew.] BI: And how long have you two been standing there? Long enough to overhear Joe's little speech? Good... the boy speaks the truth. When they saw us, the execs went "There is no way we're letting some other fed pick them up!" They knew right away, the American Dragons are the future. And everyone else in this fed is going to know it soon enough. JS: IIWF... we could point to the victory over the Rotundos on War Room as a sign of what we're capable of... but that's like saying the 49ers are the best team in the world because they whipped up on the Atlanta Falcons. What we're going to do instead is point to this Saturday, and show that the American Dragons are damn good. Me and Bob here are a bit awed at this. I mean, what we're going up against tomorrow night are two IIWF mainstays. A former world champion, and a guy who's come back from knee rehab to be among the best. Starks, you said we need to get a lawyer to set our affairs straight. I guess that's your way of saying "Welcome." BI: Let's set the record straight. You're saying, if I get the gist, Mr. Starks, that we are going to die at your hands? Someone's been out in the sun too long. Yeah, we might be rookies... and this might be our first big time match. On the greatest wrestling show around, in the greatest league around. We might be a little dazzled. We might be a little blinded. We might even... MIGHT even... be outclassed. But guess what, Tony... at least we're sure our partner is going to show up tomorrow night. Me and Joe have worked long and hard to get here... our first big match. This is what introduces the Dragons to the world. We're BOTH going to show up and work. Mr. Starks... is the Psycho even going to show up? JS: Will he be there? Is he going to be watching your back? Tony, we ain't about to fight a handicapped match against you... we'd rather wait to take on a REAL tag team then humilate you. If the Psycho shows up... it's your funerals. Six feet down, and we'll plant the tombstones for you, with a nice ephitaph. "Here lies Tony Starks and the Subway Psycho... burned by Dragon Fire." Bet on it. BI: Take notice, everyone. We're the new blood here in the IIWF...not some washed up team like the Lost Boyz... Hey, guys? I guess you should go back to being Damage Inc...at least you WON the titles when you were them. [Joe and Bob drop their bags and turn around, to show the Dragon emblems on the back of their jackets.] BOTH: Any team, any time... [The camera fades out on the Dragon logos.] LM: Who will it be: the cagey veterens or the talented rookies? Find out tomorrow night! ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The Fabulous Ones vs. Lost Boyz ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: The former champs face off against your team... MM: Well, what can I say. The most popular team with the ladies, the Fabulous Ones, will leave Salt Lake City, with a victory over the Lost Boyz. Which, by the way, is one of “Sweet” Sho Satsuma’s favorite movies. LM: Yes, I’ve heard. MM: [looking off to the side of the set] Hey, can I get some tea over here? I’m thirsty! LM: The Lost Boyz are former IIWF champions. MM: What’s your point? They won the titles from half of two teams, and they got the match due to their little reputations. Haven’t you been paying any attention to Agito? [Twirling her finger in the air.] Then, look who they lost the titles to... the Natural Predators, wooo-hooo! [Just as Ms. Miki finishes talking and receives her beverage, Dokken’s “Kiss of Death” plays throughout the set. “The Universal Heartthrob” Agito Nakajima and “Sweet” Sho Satsuma step up on the set. They’re both dressed in black jeans. Agito has on a green silk , button down, shirt, while Sho is wearing a tank top, and leather jacket. Sho starts talking to Ms. Miki.] AN: [looking at Larry] I’m sorry about interrupting the show, Mr. Morton-san, but I have a few things to get off my chest. [Sho shakes Larry’s hand, then starts talking with Ms. Miki again.] AN: First off, the American Dragons... you chikushoo! You come here and call yourselves Dragons. Let me tell you something. Dragons are great mythical creatures that many Asian people hold close and dear to their hearts. Why? Because of the qualities the Dragon has, strength, intelligence, honor, and pride! None of which you’ve shown, and further more the lack of those qualities must be the reason you dishonored the great creature by calling yourselves American Dragons? SS: [breaking away from his conversation with Ms. Miki] What in the hell were you two thinking? Where did you come up with that name? AN: They watched too many Bruce Lee movies! Sho and myself, will not allow you to disgrace the vison of the dragon, nor will we allow you to dishonor the people who idolize the dragon. This act will not go unpunished. Prepare yourselves for pain. We’re more than happy to wrestle you in a straight up match, but when it’s done don’t go crying to anyone, because you brought it on yourselves. SS: Speaking of movies, how about our match tomorrow night? AN: Lost Boyz! Finally we lock it up in the squared circle. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Salt Lake City, get ready 'cause the Fabulous Ones are coming to town, and were going to show everybody why the Lost Boyz aren’t what their precious “little reputation” claim them to be. Your going down. [“Kiss of Death” plays again, as the Fabs leave the set.] LM: Well, that was interesting. MM: Wasn’t it! I bet the ratings just went through the roof. Rusty! LM: From the big thumbs up Rusty is giving, I'd say that our figures have done quite well this evening. We must thank Ms.Miki for agreeing to come onto our show tonight! ----------------------------------------------------------------------- "Savage" Shadoe Rage vs. "Sychosys" Joe Petrow ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: Shadoe Rage gets his first "booking rights" match and it's against Joe Petrow. Petrow will be doing double duty with this and the tag title match. What do you think about this match? MM: I’d like to say that I don’t like Mr. Petrow-san very much. He’s got a big mouth, and I’m not at all happy about what he said of my Playboy pictorial over the internet. LM: No matter what he said, he’s an accomplished wrestler. MM: So! He should learn to keep his trap shut! If there is a god, “Savage” Shadoe Rage will live up to his billing, and hurt this guy. I mean break him in two. [Ms. Miki makes the universal sign for “breaking in two”. Holding out both her hands next to each other then quickly pulling them apart.] LM: [with a startled look] O...kay. MM: [looking around] Where’s Rusty? LM: Again with the ratings? MM: I’m interested in the ratings, since I’m here. LM: We've already heard from Big Joe... let's hear from Shadoe Rage. [Fade in: Shadoe Rage is in his study, his feet stretched up on a desk. He has a keyboard across his lap. His black silk shirt is hanging open, exposing the perfect Da Vinci's David physique. He clicks away at a computer, moving around the mouse, printing out a document. He is amused, a twinkle in his eyes.] SR: Fraud. An interesting word. It seems everybody has an opinion about you, Mr. Petrow. Seems everyone wants to say something about you. But this one ... this one is perhaps one of my personal favourites. The Fraud of Joe Petrow. Quite a blow to the ego, isn't it? Fraud. [Rage rereads the document and smiles, folding it up and tucking it in his shirt pocket.] SR: Fraud, you're running out of places to run and hide, aren't you? Well, I've got a little challenge for you. It's a lady or the tiger challenge. I offer you ... a plane ticket to Japan to one of our favourite friendly federations. Danny boy would love the opportunity. Nah, you don't want to have that option, do you? You don't want to get upstaged, do you? Hmmm, so what's left? What's left for the greatest and most unchecked ego in the world of wrestling. The Fraud who has to have it his way. Let's see. What do you do when there is someone who absolutely refuses to act in your little plays. What happens when you face an opponent who has an idea of his own and isn't happy to be a supporting character in the "Crazy Joe show?" [Shadoe beckons the camera a little closer.] SR: Watch the carpets! I told you to take your boots off at the door. [Shadoe leans into the close up, whispering conspiratorially.] SR: [behind his hand] You know, the month of February is going to be very interesting. Because this is the month where I do what the literary greats calls "deconstructionism." This is the month where I reveal all the tricks, all the gimmicks, all the secrets to being just like Joe. [Shadoe laughs. He rolls back his head and wipes a tear from his eyes.] SR: What are we going to with a whole league full of wrestlers who can transform jobbers into stars. Who never lose battle royales and win all their little gimmick matches because they can't lock up straight. Imagine forty individual and super egos. The IIWF will be closed in a month. The first time they take a trip to Japan. [Marissa swaggers into the camera shot, shouldering the man aside as she brings in a tray of drinks for she and Shadoe. She's in a little work out unitard, sandals on her feet. She smiles over her shoulder at the camera tolerantly before she takes a seat next to her man and starts reading the screen.] MM: Why do you have to bring these people in here? Camera crews everywhere. They're always sayin' feel free to go in the shower and walk around au naturel. Like I'm going to do that. SR: It's stuff we've got to do. It's part of this business. Come on, you know that. MM: [rolling her eyes] I know, but I'm getting sick of this stuff. It's just too damn much. SR: [patting her knee] Ah, it's all part of the job. You know how it goes. MM: So, is this where I get to stand by my man? Where I talk about how Joe Petrow's a dangerous opponent and I'll watch my man's back so he has a fair match? [rolls her eyes again and snorts.] SR: Why don't you just say what's on your mind, love? [He leans over and kisses her on the cheek. She smiles.] MM: I don't even know why you're wasting your time on this sort of stuff. I mean, that 'I lost my Shadoe' gag. That's something worth getting excited over? I don't think so. Look, I've been watching them and watching them and I just shrug and wonder if Shadoe isn't better served going after a title. But then I figure well, hel, he must know what he's doing. [She reaches out to rub Shadoe's neck.] MM: Or he could be completely losing it again. SR: [slipping back into hype mode] Bet on that option. Because Joe Petrow is the "hottest" thing in the GDWA right now. Why's that? Because he's just a heartbreak kid. He don't lie down for nobody. He don't ever do the job necessary. And nobody gets over on ol' Crazy Joe. Not until now. Because the Prophet of Rage, the Enemy of the World is going to be immune to all your tricks and gimmicks. I'm going to corner you into a match in which you can't hope to win. And then I'm going to take away all your achievements in the IIWF. This is the Age of the Rage now, Petrow. No tricks, no gimmicks. This is about fights. [Monet's cellular phone rings. She places it up by her head.] MM: Hello? What's that? Oh yeah, they're here. They're filming right now. Oh, don't worry. Who knows what's the point of this little thing? It doesn't make much of a difference. Sure, sure I'll make sure to do that. Don't worry. We'll make sure he gets a shot for you. [As she hangs up Shadoe eyes the phone.] SR: Who was that? MM: Oh, Mark was just checking in. He just asked you to turn Joe's lights out for him. SR: [shrugging] Fair enough. Are we done here? I'm through pretending. I don't like being a fraud. Who knows who'll write an essay about me on the Internet or something. [He smirks as he signals for the cameras to cut off. Fade out.] LM: This is only the beginning of the month! Shadoe Rage is going to settle some scores every Saturday Night throughout February! ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Marty Warnett vs. Battalion ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: Here we have another case of a fresh face fighting one of the established stars in the IIWF. WHat do you think about this rookie's chances. MM: Battalion... Who cares about a steroid addict? Now, as for IIWF veteran Warnett-san, he’s got a lot of potential. He doesn’t seem to have any hang ups. I like his entrance music, and I think he should use his Hangover combo finisher a little more regularly. LM: How about the match up? MM: Unfortunately for Warnett-san, he’s giving away a lot of strength and size to Battalion. Although, size isn’t everything. I’d have to say I’d go with Battalion. He’s new, so he’s hungrier to make a statement in his first match out. He’ll want it more than Warnett-san. But, should Marty-kun need advice or guidance all he has to do is give Tsuburaya Enterprises a call and I’ll see what can be done. With the proper guidance and could become something special. LM: We'll have to wait and see if the Party Maniac takes you up on your offer. Let's hear what Marty had to say about this week's match. [SCENE: An Army assault course. Whilst a number of raw recruits struggle to climb over a high net obstacle, one recruit stands, looking at the others. He removes a can of Mooselips from a fatigue pocket. The camera moves closer, until the figure turns around, revealing the unmistakeable features of Marty Warnett. ] MW: You know, it seems there are so many people coming in, leaving the IIWF, and I guess right now I'm up against another new recruit. When Poutine told me who I was facing, it was like, what? Battle Lion? Wasn't that the cat from He-Man? Hey, I don't mind these cross-over bouts, but I'd far rather grapple with She-Ra. [A recruit lets out a scream as he falls fifty feet into muddy water. ] MW: Sheesh, another one bites the dust. So, I kinda did some research, and I checked out this Interweb thingy the dubba-eye do. And guess what? I'm facing the ego-maniac replacement for Quigley... "I'm the strongest man in the world, I fly like a luchador, I even cured cancer". [Behind Marty, a platoon of troops are jogging. As they do, a familiar chant can be heard...] P: I don't know but I've been told, [I don't know but I've been told] That new damn VP's way too old, [That new damn VP's way too old] Marty should deserve some gold, [Marty should deserve some gold] His touch never leaves a woman cold, [His touch never leaves a woman cold...] [The sound fades, perhaps fortunately for IIWF viewers, as the platoon moves away.] MW: Anyways, Battalion. How can I put it? Maybe from now on the suits should package me as Mister Reality because, buddy, you've come in the the dubba-tough dubba-eye, and maybe it's time for me to reclaim icon status around here. Now if that means whipping your ass back to boot camp, then so be it. Just don't feel too sorry about being a Goldie Hawn wanna-be. [Marty takes another swig from his Mooselips can; the can shows pictures of Team Sychosys, as part of the unique IIWF / Mooselips promotion.] MW: And that's an order ... [Fade.] LM: Yet another classic match-up in the making! ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Ronnie Paris vs. "The Demon" Damien Lestat ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: Lestat is a different kind of rookie. It seems like He and Lebec should get together... MM: I don’t know anything about Damien Lestat, other than he looks like a mess, and needs a better nickname. As for Ronnie Paris, I think he got taught a very good lesson in wrestling from another Japanese superstar here in the IIWF, the Cruiserweight champion, “Enigma” Takezo Musashi. Never mess with an oriental. LM: Can Paris regain the brief stardom he had after beating Timothy Turner for the Cruiserweight Title? First has has to go through this man... <<>> "HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH!" <> "HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA!! <> "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH!!! [The camera rises to an empty arena. Inside the dimly lit wrestling ring, a man outfitted in a ratty leather jacket sits in the middle of the apron cackling with glee] Man: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!! [Still chuckling, he picks himself; moves towards the corner and springs into the middle of the ring doing a sommersault. Thus, landing flat on his back] <> [For some reason, he finds joy in this] Man: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! [The man sits up, makes an internal noise and fires a big wad of mucussy gunk out of the ring. He wipes the long greasy hair out of his acne-covered face and finally greets the camera. With a cavity-filled grin, he cackles again.] Man: [In a high-pitched gravelly voice] Just f practicin'... gotta god-damned problem with that? [He wipes his mouth and scraggily beard of the strands of drewl as he picks himself up and, in one surprisingly fluid movement; hurls himself headfirst into the far turnbuckle...] <> [After bouncing off the mini-cushion, he lands on his side; again giggling with delite] Man: HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! [Again, the man sits up and faces the camera] Man: Ya see, I just gotta make sure I toss that lil' piece of s Ronnie Paris just right! And, what better way to practice than on yourself! [For some odd reason, he finds this funny and cackles again. He scoots himself to the corner where an old red-and-white cooler sits. The ugly man scoops the cooler into his arms, still grinning his disgusting grin] Man: [Talking to the cooler] Mr. Coolie? Is Ronnie Paris gonna get his ass whipped against "The Demon" Damien Lestat on Saturday night? [The man makes the cooler nod "yes". He cackles again] Man: [still smiling] Damn f right I am, Mr. Coolie! Well, can't gab all day, Mr. Coolie...gotta go back to practicin'! [Damien Lestat gently puts the cooler back and rises to his feet. Four huge steps, and a leap later, his head meets the opposite turnbuckle....] DL: [As he's falling to the ground] THAT ONE WAS GOD-DAMNED PERFECT! [Lestat tumbles to the apron, once again cackling] DL: [while still lying on the mat] I just f love this s! [The camera fades as "The Demon" Damien Lestat continues to "practice" for his match with Ronnie Paris as his cooler stands at attention. Fade] LM: Great. Just what the IIWF needs... another psycho. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Trash Talk |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... LM: Three of the other competitors in the IIWF had thoughts for our show tonight. All three of these guys are in some heated situations that don't look like they will cool down soon. [Camera opens with "The Savior" Simon Lebec, sitting under a tree, smoking on a cigarette. He is dressed in street clothes, though still wearing his minister's collar.] SL: I don't quite re' memer much... 'cept th' fact that th' cookies that Ma made were tasty. An' th' milk was cold. [Lebec takes a deep, long drag on his cigarette.] An' I don't quite re'memer much... 'cept Ma was in th' kitchen, mixin' up the medicine. Though I wouldn't in th' basement, complainin' 'bout no guv' ments. Them darned cookies was too tasty. An' th' air was crisp. [Lebec pauses] An' I don't quite re' memer much... 'cept m' sister tellin' me that Grandpappy was dead. Doctors said that one a them vessels had blowed up in his ol' head, killin' him instantly. [Lebec drags again.] An' I don't quite re' memer much... 'cept Grandmammy jumpin' on top o' th' casket, an' Daddy cryin', wishin' he was there before Grandpappy died. [Lebec looks into the sky before lighting another cigarette.] An I don't quite re' memer much... 'cept thinkin' that every dog has its day... an wonderin' why Grandpappy's day had come. [Lebec takes another drag from his cigarette, bowing his head to the ground.] An' I... I don't quite re' memer much.... 'cept them screams. Them bone chillin' screams. Not from th' other patients... or them doctors callin' fer more straight jackets. But them screams... from within m'self. [Lebec looks into the camera] An' I don't quite re' memer much.... 'cept th' realization that th' man lookin' back at me in th' mirror... wasn't me. Hadn't been me fer a long time. An' Prob'ly would never be me again. [Lebec takes another drag] An' I... I don't quite re' memer much... 'cept knowin' that th' man I was had died, yet I was still breathin'. [Lebec bows his head again] How do ya pin a dead man wit th' 'bility ta breathe? How do ya beat a man who's been beaten in a realm far greater than any rasslin' ring? Duncan Macbeth.... how do ya hurt a man who knows hurt to th' fullest extent o' th' term? [Lebec looks into the camera] Fact is.... ya can't. [Camera fades as Lebec continues smoking his cigarette] [SCENE: The mortuary. The stonebuilt hall is, as always slightly illuminated by the several torches which are hanging from the walls. Though no one can be seen, strange voices are heard from behind the old door in the back wall of the mortuary. A mysterious glow is emerging from the door and as the camera moves closer, the light seem to become brighter and brighter. The camera passes several caskets on it's way on one of which lies the cloak of the Blind Guardian that he used to cover Deathbringer's face. The camera man doesn't seem to take notice of this, however, and continues to approach towards the door. Now some words can be understood: "...pay... - ...no one ... - ...has to die... - ...calm down... - ...soul... - ...someone there..." After the last two words, the door is opened by a seemingly enraged Deathbringer, who's face is covered by the cowl he wears. He reaches towards the camera man, who ducks and falls to the ground. Though the camera breaks as it hits the floor, the microphones are still intact and pick up Deathbringer's commanding voice] DB: You damn mortal... You think you can come in here without any invitation and sniff around? You have chosen the worst time to do so... And now, you will learn a very painful lesson about what happens when someone intrudes into my very personal home... [Obviously the camera man has managed to get back to his feet, as the steps of a fast running person are heard, who desperately tries to escape from a dangerous situation like this one. But the Deathbringer doesn't seem to follow him. He just shouts after him:] DB: Yes, get out of here... and the next time... [At this point, Deathbringer is interrupted by the Blind Guardian, whose voice is now heard] BG: Take it easy, big man. He's gone, and he's just a camera man. You've more important things to take care of right now. For example those clowns... DB: Yes... I will take them apart, believe me. No one does such a thing to Death himself. [getting more and more enraged as he continues to speak] No one steals my mask, Guardian, no one steals my mask and gets away with it. I swear by God, that I... BG: [interrupting him] It's okay. We'll deal with them soon. Very soon indeed. And I already have a plan... Listen... [The Blind Guardian stops talking as if he has noticed something. The next thing the microphones pick up is a typical Guardian-laughter, before with a loud *CRACK* the communication completely breaks down] [Scene opens in a dingy hotel room. The television is knocked over, the remote control is unscrewed and the contents of the Minibar are spread around the room, most opened, though some are merely broken. A suitcase filled with brightly coloured clothes lies on the "Magic Fingers" bed. Dressed in his trademark faded denim jacket and crescent moon sunglasses, is the Master of Bizzarecore, Richard "Moxy" Blue. He is hunched over a small, obviously out of date laptop computer, his eyes burning with foolish intensity as he stares at the LDC window to the world. His blue hair is now showing it's blonde roots rather predominately .Stone is nowhere to be found.] RMB: C'Mon, load up damnit. C'Mon... damn 14.4 connections, not worth anything no more... there... FRAG!!!!!!! [Blue throws his hand back in disgust, tipping his chair backwards. A little too much, and he topples backwards, flipping over onto his stomach.] RMB: I meant to do that. First Mota starts trying to ruin my life again, now this. I called the IIWF Towers. I checked the answering machines at all three of my apartments. I asked everyone! But from what I can tell, I don't have a match this Saturday! This throws my HUGE plans into turmoil! What does Spreads think he's doing? Doesn't he realise... never mind... STONIE!! [Stone enters through the hotel bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist to hide his."stony" parts. He doesn't look very amused in the least as steam exits the bathroom door. It is now apparent how incredibly muscular Stone actually is, and that is to say, VERY muscular.] RMB: Oh, sorry, man, I thought you were trying to buy YooHoo with Canadian change again. Just wanted to tell you we're still goin' tomorrow. I'm GONNA find a way to wrestle tomorrow. So let's start stealing stuff now. [Stone's eyes flash with recognition of the aforementioned act. Blue starts hoisting ashtrays into the suitcase, ashes and all. Stone tosses the remote in, as well as all the stationary. Blue gets in the bathroom, and returns with an armful of toiletries and towels, quickly dropped into the suitcase. Blue turns around and grabs for one more towel.Stones eyes grow wide.] [The screen reads CENSORED!] LM: As we run down another episode of Countdown I would like to thank Ms. Miki and I'm sure Rusty would like to have her and her ratings grab back anytime. Don't forget to tune in tomorrow for the greatest two hours in wrestling! Until then, this is Larry Morton, for the team here on "Countdown to Saturday Night", saying: goodnight! [The studio lights drop as the shot 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+