C + O + U + N + T + D + O + W + N T + O ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/..............\........|...|.......|....| with Larry Morton 13 February 1998 [The shot opens with the still new Countdown set, with its two comfortable chairs and low table. Larry Morton sits in his usual spot with the other chair sitting empty...as if in anticipation of the superstar who will soon occupy it.] LM: Hello IIWF fans and welcome to another edition of Countdown To IIWF Saturday Night! I'm Larry Morton and let me now introduce my co-host for the evening...the manager of the IIWF Tag Team Champions, the Natural Predators...please welcome Kuyler Greyson! [Greyson walks onto the set with both of the tag belts in his arms. He lays them on display on the table before settling into the waiting chair.] LM: Thanks for coming out tonight, Kuyler. KG: Thanks for inviting me. I enjoy the show and welcome the opportunity to be a part of it. LM: Well, let's get on with the show, starting with a run down of Wednesday War Room! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| REWIND: IIWF Wednesday War Room - 11 Feb 1998 |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... Simon O'Neal d. the Masked Terror 4:23 El Super Gecko d. "The Demon" Damien Lestat by dq 3:13 The Harlequins d. the Barnacle Brothers and "Nifty" Ned Norton 5:21 Bobby B. Goode d. "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare 2:33 Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines d. the Smooth 0:06 Subway Psycho d. Christopher Stonebreaker 8:13 Charles Scheffield d. Serge Annis 14:02 "Real Deal" Luke Steele d. Mad Dog Watkins 11:35 LM: We had some great action on Wednesday, not the least of which was between Bacon and LaRue! We got to see all three Harlequins fighting as one unit! KG: We saw how truly efficient the Harlequins are, now that they're working together at creating a unified front. I still think Tragedy and Chaos were a better tag team, and Terror would be best suited for singles competition....but one has to admire just how diverse these three men truly are. Really, the only thing they lack is an all-out daredevil like Moxy Blue....same style of madness...and could be one of the toughest stables in the IIWF. LM: What a major upset we saw when Serge Annis fell at the hands of Charles Scheffield! KG: Charles Scheffield continues to impress as he gains the upset victory over Serge Annis. Proof that "hardcore" only carries a person so far. LM: Those are words that our new VP will love to hear! That wasn't the only upset, however. Who would have thought six months ago that we would see Luke Steele beating Mad Dog Watkins? KG: Luke Steele is going to be wearing one of the title belts soon. I can guarantee that. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| PREVIEW: IIWF Saturday Night - 14 Feb 1998 |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... LM: What an amazing card coming your way on Saturday! We have one man facing all three of the IIWF's singles champions and we have an IIWF Tag Title defense as well! KG: That's because the Predators back down from no team. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ST. VALENTINE'S DAY MASSACRE: "Savage" Shadoe Rage vs. "Enigma" Takezo Musashi, Duncan Macbeth, & Steve "The Fury" Kowalski ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: What an incredible match! Shadoe Rage will be taking on all the singles champions in the IIWF, one at a time. The other wrestlers will be at ringside, only leaving after beating or being beaten! Can any one man stand up to this kind of rigour! KG: Some people think Shadoe is overshooting his reach...believe me, if any man in this federation could unify those belts, it's him. Musashi should be on his best behavior though....he's racking up the points here for a major heartache. And it may not be Shadoe who does the breaking. LM: It's true that the Cruiserweight Champ has made a number of wrestlers very angry over his actions against Icehawk. The other thing to remember is that this is only week two of Shadoe's booking rights in the month of February! KG: Don't think that the game ends here. Rage is going to press his luck as much as he can to ensure that he gets what he wants. He doesn't walk the razor's edge...he IS the edge.. LM: We have comments from most of the participants in this match-up. [Fade in: The cameras intrude into Shadoe Rage's bedroom. They move through the dark, studying the spacious bedroom, the antique furiture set next to the posters of religious icons and tortured souls. Model shots of Marissa Monet and posters of her in action in the ring and on the basketball court add a loving, human touch to it. On a king-sized bed, Shadoe is asleep. Marissa is curled up in his arms, her microbraids fanned out over his shoulder. The camera pushes in even closer on them. Marissa's eyes snap open, some sixth sense disturbed.] MM: [clutching the sheets to her bosom] What the hell is this? What are you doing here? It's six in the morning. Cameraman: We had an interview scheduled to be cut. This was the only time available. [Marissa gives the camera an evil, evil stare.] MM: Is that thing running? C: Sure is. We're hoping to get comments from Shadoe Rage on his next challenge. Mr. Dross will be along any minute to explain. MM: He'd better. This is just ridiculous! [Shadoe stirs. He opens one eye. The stare is cold and hard.] SR: You've been taking liberties that aren't yours to take. Where's Dross? Get his ass in here. [Tim Dross arrives in a huff. he is visibly flustered as he takes in the scene.] TD: I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I just need to get a few things straight. SR: First question is probably about Petrow, right? His tearing up his singles contract and wrestling in tag-teams? TD: What do you think about that? SR: I don't care. I got a couple friends in the tag ranks by the name of Derek and Unique. I believe Petrow said Derek had no imagination or something. I don't think a 7'2", 325lber likes to hear that. MM: Look, he ran once he got beat. That's all this is about. He ran. SR: That's true, but it doesn't matter. The thing is shadoe Rage is on the rise in this league and there are certain people you've got to test yourself against. Joe Petrow is one of them. Steve Kowalkski is another. The Enigma another. Hell, even Duncan Macbeth is somebody worth facing. And that's why I've set myself a challenge to face the three of them in an endurance match. TD: Isn't this to show up Joe Petrow one more time? SR: Unique asked me to do this. Because he wasn't happy playing second fiddle in the Petrow show. Crazy Joe may not consider that his opponents like to have some say in things to, but Unique did his bit just like he was supposed to and was made to look a fool, a footnote in the IIWF. He never cracked the threshold into the big time. Well, I am going to crack the threshold. I'm going to obliterate it. And for that big production of Petrow's he blew his first Gauntlet title shot. The man stinks. He's just got great hype. Well, don't believe the hype. Don't believe the tricks and the gimmicks, the supposedly 'clever inside' remarks. No, there comes a time when no one cares. They just want to see a fight. An that's what I bring. The Angel of Death has added a new moniker ... the Chaos Bringer. TD: So, why haven't you pursued a title yet in the IIWF? This is the perfect stage. SR: Because I just broke on the scene. It's a new feeling for me. I've always been the underdog. But now I'm the overdog. Now I run things. And I will run things right. I will do what I've got to do. And I'm going to go so hard at these three champions and show them exactly what Shadoe Rage is made of. And once I've done that. Once I've shown myself to be the hands down best then there won't be any way you can stop me from demanding title shots. There won't be anyway you can stop me from getting my due. I won't vanish into the night like a shadow. I'm going to stay right here. Right here. And you'll have the biggest thorn in your side since Quigley and Petrow decided to roll their stinkin' asses in here. Get out and say goodbye. [Marissa flips a dismissive hand at the camera and curls back up under the covers. Fade out.] [SCENE: West Palm Beach, Florida, but not one of the long stretches of palm-bordered beach, or one of the hundreds of sidewalk cafes that pepper the oceanfront of the resort town. Instead, the camera fades up on a sombre old brownstone building not far from the Auditorium, where the IIWF's Saturday Night card will be taped. As the camera moves up the grey stone stairs to the doors of the building, we see the sign over the doors. MAIN BRANCH - WEST PALM BEACH PUBLIC LIBRARY The cameraman passes through the doors and makes its way into the cathedral-like quiet of the library, and passes by stacks and stacks of books. Seated around large wooden tables, several patrons look up from their reading in confusion and annoyance as the crew makes its way throught the different sections. Finally, the camera turns a corner into a seemingly deserted end of the library, and we see a sign on one of the shelves. THEOLOGY AND RELIGIOUS STUDIES At the end of the corridor, a large man in jeans and a black turtleneck sweater can be seen rifling through the stacks of texts on Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, and other religions of the world, taking books down, inspecting them, and putting them back. On the table behind him, a medium sized book is lying in front of the chair where the man's leather jacket is hanging, and the title of the book can be made out as "1928 Book Of Common Prayer". Finally, the man turns, and we can see the IIWF Intercontinental Champion Duncan Macbeth, holding a hefty leather-bound copy of the King James Bible in his hand. Macbeth's hair is tied back in a ponytail and he is wearing a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses, giving him the overall appearance of a studious football player. He grins and places an index finger to his lips as he approaches the camera.] DM: Shhhh. Keep it down, wha'. People are tryin' t' read 'ere, ye ken? I'm jus' doin' a wee bit o' research, on account o' tha' screwloose Simon Lebec stickin' is' nose in me affairs time after time. They say, "ken yuir foe", an' since Lebec's been "born again", I suppose I should go t' th' source, should I no'? Either this, or buyin' a copy o' th' bleedin' "Watchtower" from those blokes out on th' street. It's apparent t' me, Lebec, tha' ye obviously haven't been studyin' yuir scriptures, wha'. There's a bit in 'ere called th' Ten Commandments tha' I dinnae think ye've bothered t' read. I would refer ye particularly t' th' one tha' goes "Thou shalt no' covet thy neighbour's house, or anythin' tha' is thy neighbour's." [Macbeth reaches into an equipment bag by his chair, and pulls out the glittering, golden Intercontinental Title belt, holding it up for the camera to get a good shot. Macbeth glares at the camera, the gleaming belt reflected in his jade eyes.] I ken wha' ye covet, "neighbour". An' ye're no' goin' t' get it. No' wi' this "Saviour" tripe, or any other means. I've had t' put up wi' too much o' yuir silly buggers lately, an' thus far ye've been nothin' more than an' annoyance t' me. But I'm gettin' tired o' this bollocks, sae I'll refer ye now t' Deuteronomy, chapter 19, verse 21. Perhaps ye already ken it, but jus' in case ye missed tha' one as weel, I'll refresh yuir memory... [Macbeth opens up the huge Bible in his hands, finds the passage, and begins to read, or rather, recite, as he continues to stare at the camera the whole time.] "Eye fer eye... tooth fer tooth... Hand fer hand... foot fer foot." [Macbeth closes the Bible, and grins chillingly at the camera.] After wha' ye did t' me las' week, Lebec, "eye fer eye" sounds pretty good t' me. Dinnae say ye weren't warned, tosser. [Macbeth places the heavy Bible on the table beside the Book Of Common Prayer and sits down, removing his glasses.] Now, fer this match wi' Shadoe Rage tomorrow nigh'. Rage, ye've got a lot o' bottle, takin' on th' top three wrestlers in th' IIWF in one match. I have t' applaud tha', wha'. Ye talk th' talk, an' ye walk th' walk too, an' I have t' applaud tha' as well, no' like those tossers Howard an' Sampson, who never did a damn thing t' back up their big mouths in their whole miserable careers. But hear me, Rage, an' hear me well -- they didn't give me th' Intercontinental Title fer nothin'. An' th' same goes fer Musashi an' Kowalski. I ken ye're a smart man, Rage. I ken ye're a strong man, an' I ken ye're a crazy sonofabitch. I've seen how ye wrestle, an' I've seen how ye brawl. An' I saw wha' ye did t' Petrow las' week. But ye still don't scare me a bit, Rage. I've seen smarter men than ye. I've seen stronger men than ye, an' crazier men, too. I've _beaten_ 'em. 'Cause no' one o' them managed t' put th' fear o' God in' t' me, an' neither do ye. [Macbeth allows himself a small smile, and he chuckles to himself before continuing.] I've seen a lot o' scarier things in me life than a tough-talkin' Bluenoser who dresses like Phyllis Diller an' grows 'is fingernails like Gail Devers, wha'. Sae dinnae go expectin' me t' "Die In Darkness", tomorrow nigh', Rage. 'Cause I'm goin' t' die in me bed an auld, auld man. But I'll no' be sae auld tha' I won't remember beatin' ye. [Macbeth turns back to his reading, opening up the King James Bible and putting his glasses back on as the scene fades to black.] [It's dark and quiet. A little too quiet. The silence is only broken by...] VO: One's gotta wonder... Am I a threat to the IIWF? I don't mean the wrestlers, they already know I'm the be all end all. I'm talkin' 'bout the establishment. Is Dan Spreadbury tryin' to push me out already? Makes ya wonder, huh? I say to Dan, "It's comin'. I can smell it. Someone's gonna stick their nose into the title match. How 'bout a little extra security?" He assures me that it ain't a problem. Saturday night comes... I'm gonna make Meat an inch shorter... Walkin' down the aisle... Right where Spreadbury wanted him... comes Gunnar Gaines. [BLEEP], he's a pretty big guy. You'd think security would see him. They do. They don't move, 'cause Dan is payin' out their minimum wage. [There is silence for a second. A barely audible inhale and an orange glow is seen. A puff of smoke makes it out of the shadows, only to be cut short by...] It's jus' like Spreadbury to panic when times're tough. Losin' names like Casey James, Tiger Claw, "The Butcher", Byron, Hardin, Thunder oughtta make ya sweat. But it ain't my problem the management sucks here. Bringin' in one o' the most overrated punks to walk outta broken fed, ain't gonna save face. What was the line of [BLEEP] he fed ya, Gunnar? "Come in an' get rid of my headache." "Make some waves in the Double Eye?" "Jump, Kowalski an' you'll get a title shot right away? [BLEEP] the rankings, I call the shots 'round here, not the Fury." Must've really pissed ya off, Danny. Callin' fer a title defense 'gainst Meat. Who'd ya want? Petrow? 'Bringer? That piss ant, Manning? It jus' goes to show the lack of confidence ya got in yer own roster, by bringin' some other fed's trash to brighten up the place. As far as I'm concerned... ya jus' bad mouthed the Double Eye! Ya jus' insulted the wrestlers that sweat an' bleed here. Most of all... Ya jus' pissed in my tent. An' I'm not a happy camper! [At this point, Kowalski walks out of the shadows and spits the dime store stogie.] Spreadbury, do what ya keep doin'... keep bringin' in the hacks. Line'em up, I'll knock'em down! While ya keep smearin' the good name of a fed that I run, I'll keep burnin' the bodies ya bring in! [A short pause.] Gunnar, this ain't the EWA. The wheels on this machine're still turnin'! Here we pay our dues. Here bleedin' is sweatin' an' the sounds ya here are the bones breakin'. There's no more livin' off yer rep, Gunnar. There's only ya at the zero-zero mark. With a chip on yer shoulder an' a champ eyeballin' ya. I been there, it's excitin'! The whole world's watchin' ya climb the ladder, upstagin' the man! Let me slide ya a piece of advice, junior. Don't get too full of yerself... There's a long cold road ahead o' ya... an' I'm waitin' at the end of it. [Fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF Tag Team Championship Match The Natural Predators vs. The Fabulous Ones ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: I'm sure the next match is the one that most interests my co-host. Could the Fabs be the team to take away the gold we see here on the table? KG: All we hear about the AbFabs is how Fabulous they are. Take a look at their record. One win over the Rotundos. One seduction win over the Machines. One win by countout when the Prophets of Rage decided they didn't warrant their attention. I don't look ahead, but I think the Predators have more than a fair shot at removing the Fabs from the stage. LM: Don't you see them as any sort of threat at all? KG: Hard to take them seriously...so much of them is based on showboating...and so little on actual skill. Have you noticed how the Nagoya Sun has nothing else to say about them? It's Paul Wong I feel sorry for, because he only went after the brass ring...to find that she turned his finger green. Moldy Miki. LM: Harsh words about Ms. Miki...the woman who helped this show get its highest ratings ever! KG: Yeah, well, I'm married and don't have to say nice things about her or Bertha the blob... LM: I'm sure the Fabulous Ones have a different perspective on the match. [Scene opens with a shot of the ocean. In the distance a dark sky moves closer, and very faintly, rain can be seen. Also, in the distance in the ocean a yacht is anchored. It slowly sways in the waves created by the coming storm. The camera pans around to show Agito Nakajima, with two very beautiful girls, and Ms. Miki setting in the sand. Agito is wearing blue jeans, no shirt, and saddles, while the vivacious Ms. Miki wears blue jeans, a black belt, and a white workout bikini top. She has her feet buried in the sand. One of the two girls is rubbing Agito’s shoulders.] AN: Something wicked this way comes. I can see dark clouds up ahead. How symbolic of the situation Sho and myself are in the Double-Eye. We’ve defeated every team we’ve faced, and I guess that’s why they’ve given the Fabs the next shot at the world tag titles. BUT, what chance do we have of beating the Predators? Sure, if we go in the ring talent verse talent, we win hands down. [The two girls, with Ms. Miki shake their heads in approval.] AN: The problem is... the referees. We’ve stepped into the squared circle with the Down Boys of a number of occasions, and have taken a lose each time. Why? Not because we didn’t have the match won in straight up competition, rather we were beaten by other means. Once it was their manager and a baseball bat, which I’ll take care of once again. Once was Simon O’Neal, then there was the Lost Boyz, and this past week, the referee once again turned a blind eye to their manager. So, Sho took care of business. [Just then, the cameraman pans over to the left. About fifteen feet away Sho Satsuma and Bertha are in major lip lock land. They stop.] SS: How do your faces feel, Down Children? Next time it’ll be for keeps. B: As far as I’m concerned it’ll always be ShoTime! [They start making out again.] MM: Hey guys, get a room! AN: So, Down Boys, count your blessings, because when we meet again, it’ll be the last time. [The camera pans back to the ocean. This time the yacht is really rocking in the waves as the storm gets closer. The camera holds for a few seconds, then comes back around to Agito and Ms. Miki.] AN: Like the storm, it increases in strength as it continues to ploy through the sky, Sho and I will continue through the IIWF. Saturday night, we face the Predators. We’re coming for those titles and we’ll stop at nothing to gain them. Kuyler Grayson, stay out of the match if you know what’s good for you? If not, you’ll receive the same thing the Down Boys kuso manager is going to get. And, last and certainly least, the American Dragons. You can dream of being with Ms. Miki all you want, but know this, she’s a class act that doesn’t mess with losers like yourselves. MM: First of all, you two are possibly two of the most unattractive men in wrestling today. Go ahead and say what you will, the bottom line is, you're jealous of not only me, but the men that have my undivided attention, the Fabulous Ones. If you wanted me to manage you to success, that you’re never going to achieve, all you had to do was ask. Look at Marty Warnett, all I had to say was that I thought he’d lose to the bigger Battalion, and what did he do? He stepped up his attack and won the match. That’s true talent. All it took was a few little words from me. Now, I can see how your jealousy could cause you to blabber at the mouth, and because of that, you’ll never achieve the ultimate goal of all the tag teams in the IIWF. That’s to defeat the best there is in wrestling today, the Fabulous Ones. [She shakes her head from side to side.] MM: Oh well! AN: With that said, we’ll end this interview. The storm is incredibly close now. Sayonara! [Agito and the two beauties get up with Ms. Miki and walk off. The camera follows. They all get to cover, on the deck of a two story condo, as the rains pour in. Agito points out something towards the ocean to the camera man. He pans around and Sho and Bertha, are in the middle of an act that could get the IIWF a huge fine.] AN: It was a joke! Cut that thing off! [Scene cuts off.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Ike Sampson vs. "Intrepid" Ryan Howard ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: The match between Sampson and Howard should be one of the most hotly contested. Wouldn't you agree? KG: Should be a tough fought match... After Derek Mota's attack on him, though, Ryan Howard may need to concern himself with focus more than thoughts of revenge. LM: Sampson also has asked for a piece of Mota, in the form of rematch to the Future Bowl. Vice-President Osterhout has asked for some time during our discussion of this match. [A huge red-white-and-blue banner proclaiming "Wrestle Clean!" hangs over a table set up in the IIWF press room. At the table sits a very concerned Vice-President Osterhout. Impatiently he taps his pencil on the tabletop waiting for the signal to begin. He does so suddenly:] GO: All I can say I that I'm disappointed. I didn't expect "Wrestle Clean" to change things overnight, but I expected a little more effort from some of you. I've got a list here of wrestlers who don't seem to be compying with the new policy. [He holds up an official memorandum bearing the IIWF letterhead] Turner, Mushashi, Blue, Lestat, Warnett, Fabuous Ones: All your names, among others, are on this list. And Tony Starks, your name isn't on the list...yet. But I know your passion for vengence, and I know your fury with Subway Psycho, but I want you to KEEP IT CLEAN. I still have interns investigating the legality of your judo techniques. Clean Starks, clean. As for the rest of you. I know that fines aren't going to make you change your ways. I have learned that the best way to lead is by example. So here it is. I have chosen from amongst your ranks one wrestler who I feel best typifies the "Wrestle Clean!" Campaign. A wrestler who has gotten everything he has through hard work... dedication...clean wrestling and clean living. His amazing physique has ben the subject of articles in "Bodybuilding Weekly", "Men's Health" and "Teen Throb" magazines. He is as recognizeable in Japan as he is here, and serves as a role model in communities of all colors and creeds. Is it Creed, no. But I'm sure you've all guessed who I'm talking about already. Let me introduce to you the new "Wrestle Clean!" example for us all....IKE SAMPSON! ["Kiss" by Prince plays from a small boombox set up in the corner, and Ike enters the room, followed by long-time confidant and advisor Jackson Witt. Ike is shirtless, wearing jeans and a black hat reading KEEP IT CLEAN. Witt is resplendent as always in a blue suit, with a WRESTLE CLEAN lapel pin attached. Both men come over and shake the new VP's hand, and sit at two chairs which have been added to the table.] IKE: Thanks, Gregg. It truly is an honor... a privilege to be selected as the national spokesman for such a noble and worthy cause. There's nothing more important to me than the future of our children, and if I can do anything at all to help better that future, than I'm for it. Alcohol, drugs, cigarettes -- you don't need that stuff. And I am living proof. [Ike stands up, and poses a bit for the camera.] IKE: You think I look like this 'cause I was out at a bar?!? No way. You think it bothered me when I wasn't smokin' dope like all the "cool kids"?!? No way. There's one way to achieve your dreams -- hard work. And that's the only way. All my life, I wanted to be a professional wrestler. So I worked hard, training in the ring, working out in the gym, drinking milk, taking my vitamins, all things I thought would get me to the top. Everybody laughed at me. You're wasting your time, Ike, they said. You're never gonna make it, they said. Come out and party with us, they said. But I stayed in that gym -- stayed and stayed and stayed. Bustin' my hump eight days a week. And guess what?!? I _did_ make it. I'm here. I'm in the big time. And I did it my way. I didn't get any help -- it was all good, hard, _CLEAN_ work. You, too, can achieve your dreams. I am living proof. But only if... you KEEP IT CLEAN. Thanks, Gregg. GO: [Letting out a slow whistle] It's probably too late for me to get a body like this young gladiator has, but it isn't too late for the rest of you. Remember, "Be Like Ike" and "Wrestle Clean!". [Ike puts his arm around the VP, dwarfing the six foot executive. Sampson flashes a big smile and a "V" for victory sign with his fingers.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Real Deal" Luke Steele vs. Jimmy "The Meatman" Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: Here we have two stars on the rise. Two wrestlers who seemed to be destined for an alliance, only to have it quickly ended by treachery by the Real Deal. KG: Funny how these matches come about. Steele with a big win on Wednesday gets a shot at a man who could have earned the title last week, if not for Gunny Sack Gaines...the winner of this match should by all rights have a title shot by next week. LM: Maybe they will...but who will it be against? Both Steeles had things to say about this match-up. [Scene: Universal Studios, Florida. As the camera captures the scene of people walking around the grounds, the music, the costumed characters and actor/actresse lookalikes known worldwide, the rides all around, it picks up the image of a man dressed in cutoff dress shorts, a white "_Mighty_ IIWF" t-shirt, and baseball cap with the Universal Studios logo on it. It's interview man extrordinaire, Larry Morton.] LM: Hello fans, I'm Larry Morton and today I come to you from one of the most exciting places in Florida, the Universal Studios theme park. I received a phone call to meet Luke Steele here today, but so far I haven't seen him. Why do I have the feeling that Dave Bacon or Becky LaRue are involved in this someho... VOICE: Morton, pipe down. This is my interview time. [The camera wheels to the side, picking up the shot of "Real Deal" Luke Steele walking up to Larry, wearing a pair of bermuda shorts, a blue "Fear the Steele Machine" t-shirt, and a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses.] LM: Well here he is, ladies and gentlemen, Luke Steele. Luke, you asked for this interview; what for, specifically? LS: Oh sure, when Thunder or Kowalski or Annis want mic time, you're quick to run to them, aren't you? But if one of the up and comers like myself or Simon O'Neal want equal time, you question? Typical. I've got a match this weekend against Jimmy "the Meatman" Steele. One week removed from his chance to wear the World Championship. Now I ask you Larry, what kind of justice is there in that? I've busted my butt for over a year in this company, and I've never had a title shot of any kind. This joker called the Meatman shows up with no skill whatsoever, and inside of a couple of months, he's headlining the number one wrestling program in the world? Where's the justice in that? LM: I don't know, Luke. But you have to admit, the fans certainly do love the Meatman, and... LS: So what? Since when do the fans make the matches? LM: Well, the IIWF always listens to what the fans want, and it tries... LS: Oh, forget it, Morton, you just don't understand. Look at it from my perspective for once. I finally get a string of wins together, and lo and behold some clown waltzes in, with the same last name, probably hoping to capitalize on my popularity, and instantly he's given everything. The royal treatment, the red carpet, the big matches. Why he was even put into the pay per view is beyond me. And the fact that he got to the end is an even bigger slap in the face, especially to me. LM: So it's safe to say that you're approaching your match with Jimmy Steele this weekend with more intens... LS: Of course I am. I have a few other matches elsewhere this weekend, but if there's only one thing I do, it's going to be knocking that idiot Meatman out cold. Jimmy Steele, everyone knows your fondness for meat. Well, how do you like ice? Because once I get through with you, you're going to need a big block of it to stop the swelling. And it's not going to be your head swelling, it'll be your fat lip, your eyes, and the broken bones. LM: You know, you don't put ice on a brok... LS: That's irrelevant. Jimmy Steele, you're the biggest fraud in the business. What right do you have to be ranked number four for the world title? Yeah, six wins and one loss is an impressive record, but what about those three draws? I see a record like that and I see 6 and 4, buddy boy. Those three draws just mean you lucked out by a countout, or you couldn't get the job done within the time limit. I suggest you take a little time out from your meteoric- no jokes Morton, that wasn't a pun- meteoric rise to the top and tend to matters closer to home. Your little punk kid running around calling himself the Meatboy is only gonna get in the way of someone, and is gonna get his clock cleaned. What happens if he ticks off Annis? Or Lestat? Your wife says you've changed ever since you showed up. I don't really give a damn, but maybe you should take what she says seriously. Meatman, you're gonna become the marked man this Saturday Night. I've got you in my sights for a floating DDT, and no matter how big they are, or how big they _think_ they are, they're going down when they take the floater. Thanks Morton, you've been a big help. [Luke turns away from the camera and begins to walk away, leaving poor Larry, who hasn't gotten a word in edgewise, standing there with his mouth open.] LM: I, uh, no problem Luke. [Fade to black.] [The Meatman is hunched behind a butcher's block. His hair is plastered with sweat and his face is unshaven. He slams a knife down repeatedly into a mass of ground beef, then kneads it with fetishistic energy.] MEATMAN: Look at "The Meat." A rich industrialist, with money in the bank, but I join the IIWF: a world of torture and destruction. Why? Because I hate the IIWF! I hate the men in it. I want to put them all in my grinder. Their flesh is meat, and meat is my world! When I sleep, I hear the screams of pigs and cattle and chickens. I am Jimmy the Meat. I control pain and death. I am master of flesh. When flesh stands before me; be it Shadoe Rage, Kowalski, or Gaines- I RUIN THE FLESH! I twist my hand and turn the man into a squealing pig at slaughter. When it is done, I go home. I go to sleep, and all the pigs and cows and chickens are joined by the screams of men. [Meatman buries cleaver into the beef and exits.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines vs. Battalion ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: All of the IIWF has been astir with talk about the newest arrival in our midst, Gunnar Gaines. KG: Not only have the suits just signed up Gaines, but I had lunch with Brenda Hawkings, the IIWF Chief Counsel, the other day, and she said that a big addition to the Tag Team ranks could be coming soon. LM: Well? Who is it? KG: Ah, sorry, Larry. Nothing I can tell you at the moment. LM: So you think that Gaines will make an even bigger impact on the IIWF? KG: Gunny Sack wants to build on his rep here...since he beat the Smooth and jumped the champ and challenger last week. Battallion is a good prosepect, but so quiet...half this game is being heard...and after a tough loss to Marty Warnett last week, he faces another tough outing tomorrow night. LM: Gaines has had quite an impressive record in other promotions. KG: Yeah, Gunny Sack from the EIEIOW, congrats, a champ. Respect is earned...and far as I can tell, there's already a Bear in this league, and you aren't him. LM: The Grizzly had this to say... [SCENE: A large shadow looms over the golden sands on the shore of West Palm Beach, Florida. The camera comes upon a mammoth set of ten hairy toes. Panning up, we see the large legs and, soon, the complete form of a large man in a pair of black shorts and a horrible blue Hawaiian shirt. He is bearded, with long brown hair tied in a pony tail. The lenses of his round shades are flipped down. Blue zinc covers his nose, while a red baseball cap sits backwards on his head. Still leaning back, he speaks...] GGG: Grizzly's Law ... [He scratches his chin, smiling...] Yeah, I think it's something that all of you should familiarize yourselves with. For, you see, kids ... it says that for every bit of pain you cause to me ... I'm just going to cause twice that much to you. And since I _knew_ that none of you would have the guts to come face me or even talk to me when I appeared here ... [He laughs] ...I decided to get a little head start on the enforcement. [He snickers] Batallion ... you serve as my FORMAL introduction to the Double Eye. Sure, I've already served notice that I'm here to Kowalski and Meat. And I also dispatched The Smooth, but then who hasn't? No ... your match, Battalion, is the first time I've come close here to facing a challenge. [Gunnar leans forward in the lawn chair, putting his elbows on his knees.] Battalion ... you're a protector of freedom. You grew up on army bases ... your name represents the army ... and you're a strong and smart man, or at least the dim-witted flacks in the Double Eye public relations office say you are. [He flips up the lenses on his shades and glares into the camera.] But, son ... have you ever known what it's like to actually be FREE? Have you ever depended on yourself to survive in a dangerous situation? Or are you simply a full-grown child, like most of the army nimrods, scared to death that you might one day have to live in the real world? I stand before you as your ultimate test, son. Are you a man, or just a muppet in a little green helmet? You can get along in a troop but can you fend for yourself? Are you a hero ... or just a flag-saluting, ass kissing, sheet-tightening, brown-nosing moron? Can you think, son -- or are you one of the MILLIONS of reasons why "military intelligence" is a total contradiction in terms? [flexing his biceps] Because you're facing someone strong. You're facing someone smart. You're facing someone who hasn't just survived, but THRIVED on his own. Entire STABLES have trembled in fear of me. You're facing the Baddest Thang Running, son. You're facing the _Grizzly_. And you're going to be _all alone_. You're going to find, son, that a one-man army is _no_ match for a one-man wilderness nightmare, or a force of nature, like The Grizz. So, ration your water, polish your shoes, do your cals ... and say your prayers, son. I'm going to make an example out of you because I'm on to bigger, brighter and better things. Like a big, bright belt being worn right now by the so-called Fury, Steve Kowalski. Stevie ... I know you don't want to acknowledge my presence here. A more powerful force has arrive here, and the truth hurts. Well buy yourself a big ass bottle of aspirin, son, and watch what I do to the Army brat. And Fury ... realize that _your_ time is coming as well. The time ... when you will have to _beat me_ ... [He gives the Grizzly Grin -- but it turns upside down into a sarcastic frown] ... IF you can. [Gunnar flips the lenses of his shades down and leans his head back to soak up the sun.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Prophets Of Rage vs. The Down Boys ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: We have one other tag match on the card. How would the manager of the tag champs rate this one? KG: Going to go on record saying this. We beat the Fabs tomorrow night, one of these two teams will face us in our next title defence. LM: That's quite a bombshell, Kuyler. A challenge to the winner of this match to face the Natural Predators for the title! How about the merits of the individual teams? KG: Down Boys are an outstanding team....I have a lot of respect for them... and they've been a tremendous aid to us in the past few weeks, keeping outside interference at a minimum. Awesome T, bring the papers. The Predators do not back down from a challenge...and we always pay back our debts of honor. LM: What about the Prophets? KG: Prophets? Outstanding, fierce, impressive team. If they win, it'll cement their place as #1 contenders. LM: Let's see what the Prophets had to say. [Fade in: The Prophets of Rage are shown in the foreground, huddled together, leashed and collared. Medusa Rage and Pizzazz hold their chains. They strain and pull, ready to explode into the camera.] DR: Down Boys, you've got a fitting name. DDUA: Down. You're going down! DR: Down and hard. This is a new dawn. The Prophets of Rage are right back here. Right back in the mix. And we're going to be for the infamous. The shady and grimy side. Wrestling is a dirty game. It's full of back room politics and punks getting done. It's a bunch of proud men getting set up to take a fall and a select few who have the power and the direction to determine their own future. Well, that's wonderful. That's wonderful. But what's that got to do with you, right? DDUA: Tossed salad. DR: What? DDUA: They gonna eat tossed salad. With syrup _and_ jam. That's what they gonna do. Tossed salad. Oh, y'all in some ish now. You hear me. I'm a make you eat it and eat it all good like. Cause I don't like none of you muhfuhs. I don't like none of y'all. And trust me, that ain't good for you. That ain't good at all. TOSSED SALAD!!! DR: Yo, my man's got one thing on his mind. And that ain't good. See, see, this begins the long road to respectability. The tag-team scene in the IIWF got ripped to shreds when me and Shadoe first came in and did our thing. They couldn't keep up with us. They just didn't have the horses. We shot to titles with just one loss on our record. But then, the front office decided that we were making everybody look bad and they were thankful when we lost the titles. Then they tried to bury us. Brilliant strategy. Instead of building up the rest of the division to be our equals they instead turn it over to useless punks like Joe Petrow and Team Sychosys. They turn it over to punks like the Fabulous Ones. They turn it over to crap like the Lost Boyz who couldn't hang with us in any incarnation. The Prophets of Rage run through them, too. DDUA: Well, you got a new squad and a brand new story. Muhfuhs, the Prophets is comin' for some useless punks named the Down Boys and it's time to make a freakin' example out of them, too. This is the best tag-team in the world. It don't matter who the members is. Because they got the same brains, the same intelligence. The same functions. And now we gonna take that number one spot back. Look out, Boys, you got the craziest muhfuhs in history after you. DR: Fade to black. DDUA: And prepare to eat Tossed Salad! [Fade out] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Christopher Stonebreaker vs. "Sanguinary" Steve Manning ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: The next match has someone with a fighting will and someone with a loose screw. KG: Not much to say on this one. I'll go out on a limb... and not a popular one... and say Steve Manning is on his way-up. Look for the upset. LM: This would certainly be a big win for this odd wrestler. We have comments from both athletes. [The camera opens on the figure of Christopher Stonebreaker who is standing on the backstage of the IIWF arena, usually the site of other broadcast shows, and Chris just stands there staring up at the IIWF banner, with his back to the camera. The wrestler finally turns himself around to reveal a look on his face, that can only be described as distant. It doesn't take too long for him to resume his normal combination smile and scowl however, before he begins to speak.] CS: Lightly. Yeah, that's right. I screwed up this past Wednesday. I went into that match with my head somewhere in the clouds, and it cost me. You see, I guess you could say that I was off in never-never land. You see, it seems that the man I've turned my focus on just doesn't want to deal with me. "The Real Deal" is out making all these challenges, but nowhere on that list of his is the name of Stonebreaker. But Luke, unfortunately for yourself, I do want YOU in that ring!! You see Luke, I will be the first man to admit, it wasn't Pscyho I wanted in that ring. And then the last time I hear from you, it seems that you just decide to turn your attention elsewhere. No mention of me, whatsoever. It seems you just looked right past me. [Chris turns to look back at the banner, before making his way back to it, reaching up and pulling it down off the wall. He holds the cloth in front of him in one hand, before wadding it up into a single ball, and firing it at the camera.] Well, I am no longer looking ahead to anyone else. If I have to go through every damn IIWF superstar until they decide to put me in a match with you, Steele, that's precisely what I plan on doing. Because, sooner or later, Steele, I _will_ get what I want. I _will_ get you in the ring, and I _will_ pin you down to that mat for the victory. And then Steele.... Then, Luke, you're going to find out that you shouldn't look past anyone. Especially me! [Chris begins to pace along the stage in an anticipation type walk.] And Manning...unfortunately for you, the newest version of the Rajun Cajun, ain't stepping up into that squared circle like he did Wednesday. He ain't coming to that ring to become the next lost soul of the IIWF. I am coming to that ring focused, and I will be coming to Florida to do whatever it takes to prove to the IIWF and the world that I am the force that has to be dealt with. That I am the man who is the best there is or ever was in this game. That means I have to play by your rules, well, then don't come in there expecting a wrestling match, I will raise hell if need be. I will part the Everglades, I will do whatever it takes, but I _will_ use you this Saturday night as the focal point, Steven. You see, Manning, this one ain't personal. This one is just business, and in this business, Steven, well, let's just say your market value is about to take a huge tumble on the IIWF exchange.. [Chris pumps up his fist and across his body and the look of familiar rage can be "seen" in the eyes of the Louisiana native before the camera begins to fade out.] CS: J'VAIS TE BRISER!!! [Fade] [SCENE: A dimly lit arena. An IIWF wrestling ring can be just barely made out in the middle, and the seats of the arena surrounding the ring are cold and empty. That is until in a flash, a spotlight flows down from the rafters, and Steve Manning, sitting in Section H -- Seat #666, looks up at the camera. In his right hand, a bag of popcorn. In his left, a bottle of Mooselips. A spare cigarette is held in place over his right ear as Manning takes a mouthful of popcorn, and then looks around at the emptiness.] SM: [screaming] HEY!! [The echo of Manning's yell vibrates through the building, repeating it 3 to 4 times before fading. Manning, amused by yet another wonder of nature, laughs to himself.] SM: The yell of a legend has long been released, but I... I am the last solitary echo that simply will not fade away. I'll be lingering forever. Trust me. [Manning takes a swig from his bottle.] SM: Don't give me hell about the Snow Brawl fiasco. I wasn't the one at fault. Was it a machination cerebrated by the IIWF? I don't know. I won't pretend to know. Maybe the referee himself was just a simple harlequin. I won't waste any more thought on it. I've got bigger fish to fry... [Manning takes another handful of popcorn, and seems totally engrossed in an imaginary wrestling match occuring inside the empty ring. He speaks almost absently as he watches...] SM: "Get a partner." I _had_ a partner, Joey. But he's not around these days. I suppose my exigency to get my hands wrapped firmly around your throat is enough to motivate me into forming a team of some sort. But, I'm from The Living Hell. I don't team with just anyone... but I will tell you this... you know my partner well. You know him all too well. When he _returns_ to the IIWF, your hair will turn grey and fall out. Your teeth will rot in your mouth. Your tongue will jump down your throat, in a desperate attempt to both run away and help _you_ escape through death. But... I've said too much. I'll just say this... I swear on the grave of the Soundbite's father... you will be _hurt_. [Manning finishes off the popcorn, and bursts the bag, creating a large echo of the explosion which makes him positively giddy. Another swig of Mooselips, and he speaks again.] SM: Christopher Stonebreaker. What in the name of Mephistopheles have you gotten yourself into? Don't you realize you've entered the house of pain? Allow me to demonstrate... [Manning stands up, and as he does, the camera manges to catch at least a dozen other empty bottles of Mooselips scattered around his seat, in remarkable contrast to the "Wrestle Clean!" t-shirt barely covered by an open denim jacket, that Manning is wearing. With his bottle in hand, Manning attempts to walk down the stairs closer to the ring area, although he doesn't quit make it, as he stumbles and begins a _horrific_ fall down the stairs. Manning tumbles for what seems like hours down the cold, hard steps until he reaches the bottom in a pile. Silence. More silence... then laughter. Manning sits up, blood pouring from his forehead, a shard of the broken bottle caught over his eye. Suddenly, his face goes serious.] SM: No! No! No! Damn it all to hell! [Manning, in a fit of some sort, begins frantically searching the floor around him, and finally recovers his cigarette. He looks relieved to see it somehow avoided getting cracked, and he sticks it in his mouth and lights it up. With that, he gets to his feet, showing no visible signs of injury. He hops over the steel barrier and makes his way into the empty ring, the spotlight following him the whole time. He sits up on the turnbuckle.] SM: Hi honey, I'm home! [Manning waves to nobody in particular.] SM: Y'see Stonebreaker, this is my palace. The people would be my subjects. And you.... you would be the jester who just couldn't make me laugh. Maybe it's time to get back on the gridiron, Christopher. [Manning begins to speak in a mock Cajun accent, made famous by Adam Sandler's "Cajun Man".] SM: Use your imagina-SHUN. Figure out the consequences of facing me. You must feel fear and trepida-SHUN. I've seen more wrestling skill from the vegeta-SHUN of a damp basement. Maybe you just oughta stick to football and masturba-SHUN. [Manning draws on his cigarette.] SM: I don't know why, Stony. I just find myself... [Manning is suddenly interupted by a skinny, pale looking man. Perhaps an arena attendant of some sort, he seems to proudly be wearing a "Sychopaths!" t-shirt.] MAN: Excuse me, Mr. Manning, is it? I'm sorry, we've got people working in here. You're going to have to get out now. [Manning looks over, shocked. Then, he smiles politely.] SM: If you'd just allow me one more moment, sir. I'll be out of your way and we'll all be happy. [Manning looks at him innocently.] MAN: Uh... I'm afraid you have to leave now or I'll... ummnpf! [The man crumples to the mat after receiving a hard right hand from the "Sanguinous One". Manning picks the smaller man up to his feet, lifts him in the air, and plants him to the canvas with a Brainshock. The man is left on the mat, his leg twitching. Manning however, is not done yet. Manning wraps the man's arm in the ropes, and begins to slap his face, back and forth, back and forth over and over and over again.] MAN: S-S-Stop! P-Please s-s-st-top! [Manning pays no mind, and continues paintbrushing the helpless little man. Finally... _finally_ Manning stops. Both sides of the man's face are reddened. He appears close to tears.] MAN: I... I don't have to take this crap from the IIWF! I quit! You h-hear me?! I quit! [Manning begins to slap him again, laughing psychopathically as he does.] SM: Hey! Hey! You can't quit! You're tangled in the ropes! You can't quit! [From the back of the arena, some security guards witness what's going on and make a dash for the ring. Manning spins, revealing for a second the back of his denim jacket which reads, "The Mighty CWWF!", an obvious mocking of a bit of Stonebreaker's past. Then, the spotlight goes out. The arena is in complete blackness. The guards stop in their tracks, not knowing where to go, or where Manning is. Somewhere in the arena, his echoing voice is heard...] SM: [yelling] J'vais te briser, Stonebreaker! J'vais te briser! [The scene fades with the sounds of the weak little man whimpering, accompanied by Steve Manning's eerie, uncontrollable laughter.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Deathbringer vs "The Savior" Simon Lebec ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: We have reached the final match on this big card... what a contrast of styles! KG: I don't like this one. Lebec has it too easy. LM: I've heard Deathbringer called many things... but never easy! KG: No, Deathbringer is never easy... what he is, he is distracted by Tragedy's theft of his mask... if the Harlequins make any sort of appearance, Lebec will show what a devil he really is. LM: What do you think about Lebec's... new calling? KG: I don't buy this holy roller routine. Lebec may be a talent... but he's little more than a schmuck. LM: Both competitors had things to say for our cameras. [SCENE: The mortuary. Deathbringer is sitting upon one of the many caskets which are spread all across the huge hall. The Grim Reaper is wearing his known cowl, and thus his face is not seen. As the Dark Destroyer notices the camera, he jumps from the casket and immediately begins to speak in his low, growling voice] DB: So there you are... I was indeed wondering whether you would ever return to this place after what happened last week. But then again my Books of History told me that you would ... and there you are... [Deathbringer turns around and slowly walks toward the old wooden table, which has been set up in the rear left corner of the mortuary. Deathbringer speaks on as he moves] DB: A few days ago I listened to the words of this no-good mortal, they call Tragedy... And I wonder whether he has lost his mind... [Deathbringer has reached the table and takes a seat behind it] DB: Tragedy... Listen well, as I will not repeat myself... You say that no other man ever managed to take away from me what you took away from me. You say that all those man like Tonnage, Otto Verhoeven or Requiem were not able to take away from me what you took away from me. And you are right. None of them took the mask of me, and each and everyone of them certainly had been able to do so. Otto Verhoeven could have taken the mask away from me after the Outlaw J.W. Hardin battered me down with that chair back in the Casket Match. Tonnage could have taken the mask away from me after I had been taken out his mortal friends over in that other league. And Requiem could have taken the mask away from me as well, as he and Genesis blindsided me just a few month ago. But let me tell you something, Harlequin, all of them, and I could add dozens of other men to this list like the Coroner or Serge Annis, had more guts than you will ever have, and all of them were something that you will never be ... worthy opponents. Tragedy... You are a nothing, you are one of those, who I would never have cared about, if you had not crossed my path. But you did. And now Tragedy, and these are the bad news for you, I _DO_ care about you. Now I will watch you. And from now on, I will be at your side ... any time, anywhere. Guaranteed. You say vengeance leads to tragedy and tragedy increases your power. Well, I _AM_ vengeance, I _AM_ tragedy and I will show you that all of your power will not be enough to stop me in my tracks. No Tragedy, you set me on fire once again. And fire loves to burn. Believe me when I say that I look forward to burn you, Tragedy, believe me when I say that I look forward to end your career. And this is no threat, it is a promise. We will meet again in the near future, Tragedy, and then you will damn the day on which you stepped into my way. You are the one who bears the weight of the bad things on your shoulders? Do not worry, soon I will be carrying you on my shoulder as I take you to your final rest. You say you are TRAGEDY? Soon, I will show you what _REAL_ tragedy is all about. [Deathbringer stands up and takes a few quicks steps around the table. It almost seems as if he wants to leave the mortuary, but he stops for the fraction of a second, saying ...] DB: Oh, and Lebec... prepare to meet your maker! [...and _then_ leaves the hall. Fade] [Camera opens with "The Savior" Simon Lebec, holding what appears to be a replica of Deathbringer's mask in his hands] SL: It don't look like much. Just a lil' ol' bit a cloth, woven by some Chinaman in some factory. [Lebec looks down at the mask] But still, it says a whole lot, all by sayin' nothin' at all. It says what yer hidin'... what yer feelin'... and prob'ly what yer fearin'. [Lebec looks at the camera] Says a whole bunch 'bout th' man behind th' mask. Tells ya his personality. A dark personality. A mysterious personality. A man who don't wanna be known, even though he's prob'ly one o' th' most well known men around. [Lebec smiles] An' now I know 'em. I see 'em. I feel 'em. An' what I see is a man... no more immortal than th' rest o' us. No more powerful. No more mysterious. No more unbeatable than th' next man. [Lebec put the mask in his pocket] Just a man. A scared man. An'.... ya can call 'em an icon. Ya can call 'em a legend. Me? I call 'em a coward. Ain't no more... ain't no less. [Camera fades as Lebec nods to the camera] ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Trash Talk |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... LM: Saturday Night always interests more than just the competing athletes. Here's some more footage. [Timothy Turner sits on short dock, behind his Uclulet fishing cabin. He looks a little more introspective than usual.] TNT: Having a bit of time off this week has made me think of things... that is between watching tha Canadian curling teams walk all over the opposition. Are you having fun Joe? The thing I keep thinking of is the sight of Musashi coming down on Icehawk...and the sight of Icehawk lying so still. I'll admit I've been no saint. My iron bar has served me well in the past. Never have I wanted to see what I saw in the last couple of weeks. Musashi, you stepped over the line. Maybe we all have. I even thought about quitting a few times. Leaving the sport I love so much. Instead, it's time for me to stand up and take responsibility for my actions. From now on... in the words of VP Osterhout... it's time to Wrestle Clean. [Fade] [The camera slowly fades in on a night shot of the now familiar home of Charles Scheffield. Every light seems to be lighted within the impressive structure. From this vantage, classical music can be heard softly from within the dwelling. It becomes quite evident that within there must be some sort of gathering of people... possibly a sort of party. The shot cuts to an inside shot of the home. The room in this shot is quite large... yet with the crowd of people milling about on the floor even a room of this immense size seems a bit small. Sure enough, in the far corner of the room is a stringed quartet with a grand piano for accompanyment playing Canon by Bach. It seems to just be a gathering of many wealthy men and women for who knows what reason. Once again, the camera cuts again to a group of about three people. One appears to be in his mid sixties with grey hair, bald on top, grey moustache, and round spectacles. He is with a woman who appears to be the same age and they are conversing with a man who seems to be in his early twenties... who seems slightly familiar, yet not entirely recognizeable. He has brown hair which is tied back in a very short, thin pony tail behind his head. After a bit, the group begins laughing, then the two elderly people leave. Soon, a man with short brown hair walks quickly up to the young man.] MAN: Hey, Charlie! How's it going? [Finally, one realizes that the man must be none other than Charles Scheffield. Of course, just Wednesday everyone saw him with his long blond hair, but that has been replaced with comparatively short brown hair for who knows what reason.] CS: Well, hello Erik! It's been a while, hasn't it, little brother? How's college treating you? [Obviously, this man must be Charles Scheffield's brother, Erik Sheffield.] ES: This first year sure has been tough. But I'm managing. I've learned so much about law since I've been there... I had no idea it was such a complex subject! I'm the head of the class, though. It's a lot of fun. CS: Good to hear it. ES: Thanks! The thing I'd like to know is... why the heck did you get involved with wrestling? I mean you just got out of college and built a financial empire without dad's help! You really could have gone places. Why stop right after that and throw it all away? [Scheffield pauses and thinks this over. The look on his face shows that he does feel a little uneasy about this question. Finally, he looks Erik in the eye and speaks.] CS: Erik, there is a lot you still have yet to learn about this world. You see, sometimes things cannot be taken at face value. Yes, I may still be a young man at the age of twenty-four... but as I was climbing to the top of the financial hill... I realized that I should do something exciting with my life. Are you beginning to understand? [Erik nods.] CS: Now, many men may look at me and take me for a fool for throwing it all away, so to speak. The way I see it... I have in a way gained something I never could with mere money alone. You see, it felt so dull to know that there was _no_way_ my financial empire could be toppled. After finishing grade school two years early, then even finishing college a year early... then succeding immensely with my organization... that feeling of getting old crept up on me. I felt that the best years of my life were going to pass me by before I could truly enjoy them. I felt I was throwing that away... for money. Now, perhaps I am a fool for choosing this route... but I must tell you that since I have been with the IIWF... it has truly been a challenge. I never know what may be just around the corner. The feats I am called upon to do on a daily basis are simply things which I had never dreamed. I am constantly put against challenges that I cannot truly tell myself that I can overcome. This is keeping that feeling of youth with me... and I would not trade it for all the money in the world. I think you are still to young to understand. In fact, I believe that most men my age wouldn't understand either... but when one is handed life on a silver platter since birth... life can be very dull.. and one can feel old very soon. If you cannot understand that... then wait about twenty years and I think you will. [Erik slowly nods his head.] ES: I think I understand. I'll be "Bach". Get it? "Bach"? Ha ha! That is what is playing right now, you know. CS: Yes... I know. [Erik looks a bit embarassed now as he realizes that Charles didn't find his joke to be as amusing as he felt it was.] ES: Well, I'll go now. By the way, congratulations for Wednesday! I sincerely thought Serge Annis could have tripped over you and beat you! That guy was huge! [Scheffield nods. Again, Erik is left high and dry in his attempt at humor with the seemingly stoic Scheffield.] ES: I'd better be going before I get myself in trouble... your eminance. [With that, Erik Sheffield walks off, cutting his way through the crowd of people. The camera then focuses in on Scheffield and moves to a better position. It seems as if Scheffield has something to say for himself.] CS: Annis... [Pause.] Well... many may think that after Wednesday that this whole ordeal is settled... I doubt you feel that way. I'm sure you feel the better man lost. I can tell you for myself that I feel that I did learn one thing after our bout. Pretense is indeed meaningless. [The look on Scheffield's face intensifies to one of almost a figher's glare.] You will duly note that I am no longer pretending to be something I'm not. I will admit that I tried to fit in with the pack when I came here... but now I realize that it is impossible to stand out if one tries to run with the pack. I feel you believe you chose a much harder route of... let's say taking a brick to the face or fighting in a barbed wire match. Would you say that is being true to yourself? Or did you _simply_ do it because everyone else was? Personally, I have taken my life... a model life and molded it into something entirely against the natural order of things. I could very easily take the same route you have... get everyone in the world to hate me with their very sould. Perhaps I could become a disciple of extreme... but I must tell you that it would be against what I believe in to do that. You can ridicule my ideals all you want... you can taunt me about being a "poor little rich kid" to your heart's content. I've dealt with scum... excuse me... "vermin" such as yourself before. Do you really think it is easy to grow up amongst jealous people your entire life? Do you actually think I have avoided defending my own personal honor on account of myself having a pristine upbringing? [Scheffield shakes his head.] Annis... you are sadly mistaken if you fancy such idealistic and simplistic thoughts such as those. I realize you have seen all the other aristocratic gentlemen who cannot take a peek below the clouds surrounding their heads to take a good, close up look at reality. [Anger is becoming apparent in Scheffield's complexion.] Let me tell you something. I have been through the slums... I have seen face to face what people who actually struggle for a living go through. I myself felt the pain of homelessness for a few days after my family literally disowned me after I announced that I had disbanded from the family name! I had to _fight_ for _everything_I_ _have_! Do you think that was an easy task for a man who did not know such things? Do you think you could have lived through such an ordeal had you not been hardened against such things? When you live in that world all your life... one can cope with it. A man like myself, on the other hand... should never have lived through the short time I had to deal with it. [Scheffield pauses for a bit. The expression on his face then softens, yet becomes more focused.] But I did. And then after that, instead of staying there, I picked myself up and pulled off a stock market risk which started the beginning of my financial empire. But that is beyond the subject. What I am getting at is I have known it _all_ in my life. You see me... a perfect specimine of a man... and all you can think about is how easy my life must have been. Well... I'm sorry you feel that way. [Scheffield now totally gathers his composure and speaks.] I am Charles Pierce Scheffield. I have conquered. Now you shall be conquered. Carry on. [The camera then fades to a different shot of the room, this time looking down at the room from the ceiling. The shot then fades as the music steadily continues until it ends shortly thereafter.] [SCENE : The IIWF standard Interview Area. Behind Marty Warnett lies a giant Mooselips advertisement. The camera briefly pans down, revealing a large stack of crushed Mooselips cans. Marty is holding an empty can in one hand, a can of spray paint in the other, and wearing a "Mooselips? No thank you" T-shirt adorned with a "Wrestle Clean!" badge.] MW: Now, I know Tim Dross wanted to ask me my plans towards the next PPV, amd indeed, for my future in the dubba-eye. That can wait. Right now, new VP Osterhout has asked me to talk about the perils of this [lifts Mooselips can] evil. Now, I love to party and have me some fun. This stuff can mess your life up, in a big way, leaving you with damned regrets that the best weekend of your life didn't become the best years of your life, due to saying or doing the wrong thing. Kids, if any of your friends try to force you to drink, do what I'm doing right now ... [Marty turns around, facing the Mooselips advert, featuring a skinny male with spots and thick glasses surrounded by semi-naked women, all admiring his Mooselips can. Marty shakes his head, then spray paints a large cross through the advert. He then faces the camera again.] MW: That's right, when out having fun, if people try to force you to drink, just punch them, spray paint a cross on their back, and tell them that the Anti-Mooselips World Order is just too sweet. Right now, the self-proclaimed Icon of the dubba-eye, crazy Joe Petrow is the worst offender. Look at what he did the "Hard-working" Triple-M, forcing all that alcohol down his throat. Why, it makes me so mad ... Petrow, I want a bout with you, to show that "Wrestle Clean!" will prevail. Oh yeah, and Ms. Miki ... it was nice to hear your comments last week, they've been duly noted. It's nice to know that women admire my wrestling skills as well as my cute butt. [As the picture starts to fade, a backstage crew member can be heard asking "Where should I stick this crate of Moose..."] [The camera opens on a shot of West Palm Beach. Usually, this part of the beach is filled with young coeds and drunken frat boys...but today, it's empty, as the weather forbids bikinis and kegs. As we take in the waves crashing on the beach, we here a voice from off camera.] BI: Yeah, it's nice. I'll give it that... but it ain't Texas. JS: I would think that would be a point in its favor. [The camera turns to show Bob Ivey and Joe Scalercio, the American Dragons, standing side-by-side, hands in pockets, wearing their trademark leather jackets. Even on a cloudy day, Joe is wearing his sunglasses, while Bob has on his cowboy hat. And...both are wearing "Wrestle Clean!" buttons on their jackets.] BI: You know, this is supposed to be all skimpy bikinis and beer flowing like rain...whoever booked us for this early in Febuary might want to look into some kind of psychotherapy. JS: I would have to agree. This time of year, I'd think we'd be in London...I mean, the weather's like this year around anyway. BI: Or how about San Francisco? JS: Don't get started on Frisco... BI: Sorry. JS: Okay, we're not here to joke around. We've got two things to address today...Nakajimi and Matsuma, the Fabulous Ones...and Bear and Grey Phoenix, the Natural Predators. Ones, listen up and take good notes, because I'm only going to say this once...who are you to tell us what names we can and cannot take for ourselves? Nobody tells us what to do...you see, the only way I'll listen to what someone tells me to do is if that person either means something to me...or if that person can kick my butt up and down this beach. You two don't mean anything to me, and you're about as intimidating as a seven year old sucking on a lollipop. Dragons are intelligent, wise, strong, fast...all of those things your little manager mentioned on War Room last week. You know how we got the name the American Dragons? I'll tell you. See, we are intelligent, strong, fast...not wise, we'll admit, because we only just started in this biz, but still. And I'll let you two morons both know...I'm half Italian and half Chinese. The nickname my Chinese grandfather gave me was Dragon. Obviously, he sees something in me. As for the American part... [Joe points to Bob, who tips his hat.] ...you don't get more American then a Texan. So, guys, there's why we're who we are. So, if you two have a problem with that...you know where to find us. BI: And now....the IIWF World Tag team champs, the Natural Predators. The hottest rookies in this fed since...well, that red gloved partner. Now, we're not coming out here to insult y'all, or to say how we're better then you...we've been together six months, y'all a year, and you have a great manager. Rather...we're here to address the little open challenge you threw down last Saturday night. Now, we ain't number #1 contenders. Last I checked, we were #5. Not bad, but still, it ain't the top. However...we're always looking to better ourselves. When you're good, you have to get better... especially in this biz. Predators, you threw down a gauntlet, and where I come from, someone throws a gauntlet at your feet, you damn well pick it up and accept a challenge. What kind of men would we be if we didn't accept this offer? Simple. We wouldn't be men at all. This is a tough biz, and we'll take every opportunity to get ahead. Predators, you accept this match, we promise to wrestle you fair and sqaure. We ain't the Lost Boyz, we ain't the Prophets of Rage ...and we sure as hell ain't no Licensed for Devestation. We'll take you two on in the ring, like men...and may the best team win. [Bob and Joe turn to show the dragons on the back of their jackets to the camera.] BOTH MEN: Any team, any time. [Fade out on the logos.] [The shot of the Countdown set comes back into view.] LM: What a line-up! Don't miss IIWF Saturday Night tomorrow! I would like to thank Kuyler Greyson for being with me this evening. KG: It was my pleasure. LM: Don't forget to join me next week when my co-host will be none other than the IIWF Intercontinental Champion, Duncan Macbeth! Good night everybody! +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+