________      __ ___                           | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|                           | || | \ v  v / | __|                           |_||_|  \_/\_/  |_|                         __ __       __ _______   __                  |    //_  / | /| //_ /__   / | /__|\__/                  | / //   /  // |//      \ /  //   /  /                  |/|//__ /__//  //_______//__//   /__/                        ___  ___      ___   ________                  |    //__| /__\     /__\  /  //  //|/|                  | / //   //   \    /   \ /  //  // / |                  |/|//   //    /   /    //__//__//    |                  -------------------------------------- Guantanamo Bay Naval Base, Cuba Wednesday 18 February ["The Boys from Ipanema" by Antonio Carlos Jobim plays in the background as several clips pass by the screen. Becky LaRue in fine form....and form looking fine....sunbathing on the sands....Dave Bacon and Fidel Castro shaking hands, Bacon wearing a beanie sans propeller and acting like Pope John Paul II....and Larry Morton, standing before a firing squad, trying to talk his way out of a situation before being "Shot down" by a volley of ping pong balls. Cut to the three intrepid announcers lounging on the beach.] LM: Welcome to a very special edition of the War Room. I'm your host... BL & DB: ...for now.... LM: ...Larry Morton, and with me as always are my sidekicks... OW! [Becky stands up swiftly and boots him in the ribs] LM: ...Becky LaRue and Dave Bacon. DB: This week's War Room was set here in Guantanamo Bay, in Cuba, just a few weeks after His Holiness, Pope John Paul II visited. And the wrestling fans here were as charged up by our visit as the Catholics were by his. LM: That may be embellishing a little... but the IIWF enjoyed a warm response here in Cuba from the common folk all the way up to Fidel Castro himself... BL: Cuba... sunny, warm, pleasant... the smell of the sea air... God, that just puts me in the mood. DB: Rocks put you in the mood. Cheese puts you in the mood. Sewer water puts you in the mood. BL: Yet you don't. Funny, isn't it? LM: Can we please get on with the show? BL: You just want to see that little tramp again. DB: You're just jealous 'cause her jowls don't scrape along her knees when she walks. BL: Why you.... [Becky and Dave again begin to argue, as Larry steps forward. They both kick sand at each other like a baseball style argument.] LM: Let's go to the footage. ----------------------------------------------------- "Blacklight" Billy Shakespeare vs. El Super Gecko [J] ----------------------------------------------------- [Backstage.  Billy Shakespeare sits in the locker room.  Mistress Quickly stands nearby, shaking her head.  Billy waves the camera over.] BS: A lot of people are asking me why I'm not going quietly.  Why I'm not leaving with the same class and dignity that Chris Quigley left with.  Why, because this is theatre, and the show isn't over until I say it is.  I never said it would be easy... but I never said it was impossible either.  Now excuse me, I've got to get ready. MQ: He's gone crazy you know.  Lear all over again. [The camera cuts away as Billy pulls on his "Blacklight" facial mask.] The IIWF was treated to a new face in the ring, as the beautiful, young, high energy Liana Oates made her first appearance as part time ring announcer, wearing a white fishnet minidress that left most of the male crowd drooling. Her smile enchanted all of the announcers, save Becky. This match was better than the debacle we saw last week. Superioro Gecko, as he is known in Cuba, amazing his fellow Hispanic crowd by flipping into the ring and actually landing on his feet. Billy Shakespeare put up a better fight this week, allowing the Gecko to trip over himself as much as anything, though a series of suplexes and slams seemed shocking initially to the broadcast team, who finally reasoned it most be an adaptation of the blind Blacklight to his new circumstances. In the end, though, the crafty and nigh invulnerable...well, really vulnerable...Gecko succeeded in reversing an inverted atomic drop into a floating DDT, which he later called the "Gecko Drop" for the pinfall win. WINNER: El Super Gecko, by pinfall, 4:10 [Cut back to Dave Bacon, standing alone] DB: Okay, here's the deal. While the cameramen try and pull Becky off Morton for coming between us, I'm going to give you my little Bacon Bit on this match. Billy Shakespeare represents something the IIWF has to return to. A sense of style, a sense of class. In short, the old way of doing things. Extreme? You want extreme, bungee jump without the cord. Drink Surge. Stand in the middle of a subway car in New York City with a $50 bill taped to your forehead. Billy Shakespeare is what IIWF as, and can be again. Forget "Wrestle Clean" or "Wrestle Dirty". Be like Billy. Even in you're hurt, just WRESTLE. [Enter Morton, wheezing.] You okay, Sand Worm? LM: That's coming out of her pay... BL: [off camera] WHAT? [Becky tackles Morton off camera, and Dave addresses the audience.] DB: I guess on to our next matchup. Savio, roll the footage. ---------------------------------- Tragedy vs.  Mini-Deathbringer [J] ---------------------------------- [Backstage, right next to the entrance to the arena.  Tragedy, Chaos and Terror are standing awaiting the next match.] TERROR: This is to be easy, yes? CHAOS: I knew that wrestlers were coming smaller but this is ridiculous! TERROR: Very tiny, yes? CHAOS: What do you think, Trag? TRAGEDY: Tonight my brother, we all have a point to make. TERROR: A point! Yes? TRAGEDY: And you and our cousin are instrumental in getting that point across. CHAOS: Okay. TERROR: Okay, yes? CHAOS: Any words of advice for our match tonight? [Tragedy stares through the curtains.] TRAGEDY: Mota and Blue annoy me. TERROR: You want us to kill them! Yes? TRAGEDY: No Terror, don't kill them. [Terror hangs his head down, dejected.] TRAGEDY: Just squish their heads a bit. [Terror perks up and looks at Chaos. The two 'Quins starts laughing manically as Tragedy continues to watch the match in the ring. Fade.] This match was a joke... Mini-Deathbringer came out, accompanied by Little Lord Byron, who was immediately attacked from behind by long time nemesis "Little Wheel" Linus Steele. Their brawl, which included any number of silly slams, pushes, and shoves, stole the attention from the little masked DB. DB lept into Liana's arms and hugged her tight, drawing any number of cheers from the crowd, before the arena went black, and carnival spotlights led all three Harlequin, plus valets, to ringside. Once the match was underway, Mini-Deathbringer was as outclassed as he was outsized. A valiant fight from the mini didn't amount to much as Tragedy spanked, slapped, and pantsed the mini before pinning him using Deathbringer's patented finisher. WINNER: Tragedy, by Pinfall, 5:01 [Back to Morton, LaRue, and Bacon. Morton looks noticably dishevelled] LM: Minis. Blind men. What are we coming to? The IIWF is becoming a sideshow... all we need is a Bearded lady... DB: Well, if LaRue has another facelift... BL: Bacon, your ass is already toast. DB: No, it's Bacon, actually... back Bacon. [Becky, brushing her hair back for a second to look a little better for her fans, suddenly stomps down on Bacon's foot. Morton opens his mouth, but as she points at him, he quiets himself] BL: Right... anyway, Liana Oates, you're next on my list... This next match, which we are about to see, featured one of my favorite lads... Mr. Tony Starks... -------------------------------------- Tony Starks vs. "Nifty" Ned Norton [J] -------------------------------------- Tony Starks surprised the hell out of the crowd with a vicious, swift course of attack, finishing with what looked like a Tongan Death Grip, but lower... while Hugo Hugo deliberated over whether or not to call it a chokehold, "Nifty" Ned Norton submitted. WINNER: Tony Starks, by Submission, 0:34. BL: Oh yeah... Fast and furious... DB: Quality, not quantity. BL: Eh? DB: He moves fast, yeah... he beat the hell out of "Nifty" Ned... so what? He hits fast, he's tough. If he's blocked? LM: I'm more concerned with the chokehold... BL: Not a choke. Submission move. LM: "Nifty" Ned couldn't breathe! BL: Who cares? JJS. Feh. LM & DB: "Feh?" ----------------------------------- Paul Wong vs. The Masked Terror [J] ----------------------------------- This was another sad, sad match. Paul Wong walked to ringside, and even a hug and kiss on the cheek from Liana didn't seem to snap him out of his funk. The Masked Terror was masterful, nailing a series of aerial and power based moves on the unmoving, uncaring, Paul Wong, including a crossbody press, monkey flips, an abdominal stretch, and a fierce tackle. In the end, Paul Wong blocked a clothesline, laying out the Masked Terror, and literally knocking him out cold with a fierce sidewalk slam. He then shook his head and walked out of the ring, only to come face to face with the Sycopaths, Petrow and McArthur. Both men stared at Wong for a moment, and then attacked, beating him into submission and polishing him off with the Sychosythesys.  Afterwards, TS went into a slight posedown, McArthur flexing while Petrow proclaimed, "We _are_ tag team specialists!" before escaping through a horde of Sychocitos. WINNER: The Masked Terror, by countout, 6:11 DB: Depressing. LM: Appalling. BL: Cute. Wong's really sort of cute... you know what, Wong-way? Spend a night with me. Hell, spend two, you could use it. DB: Then buy bactine. LM: Buy two. You could use it. BL: [ignoring them] I'll make you forget all about your gay lover O'Neal and Ms. Miki... Come on, Paul... I know you want me... DB & LM: Can we roll next clip, please? ----------------------------------------- Battalion vs. Scott "the Whine" Bloom [J] ----------------------------------------- The Cuban fans didn't think too much of Battalion, with his USA chant and "Thumbs Down" to Fidel... in the ring, this match was mostly uninteresting, as Battalion ran roughshod over the hapless Bloom, who whined that Liana didn't give him a hug and a kiss. Battalion pinned Bloom after a powerslam. WINNER: Battalion, by Pinfall, 1:30 DB: This match was just plain dull. BL: Battalion not doing anything particularly impressive, though his USA fervor is reminiscent of that guy who looks like everyone's high school janitor and swings a two-by-four around.... DB: Your father? BL: Yo mama... LM: Good grief, here we go again. Paul Wong and Battalion certainly looking lackluster... is doom on the horizon for these two men? The next match spells out some major changes for Saturday's card... ------------------------------ Down Boys vs. American Dragons ------------------------------ Easily one of the best tag matches we've seen in ages. The Down Boys were quick to establish an advantage with dropkicks and quick takedowns, before a missed crossbody led to the momentum shifting. From there, the American Dragons went to work, Bob Ivey wearing down Dan Peterson with powermoves and Joe Scalercio using technical skills to weaken the Down Boy's arms, setting him in a Bow and Arrow submission hold, broken only when Dan Oliver came to the rescue. Chuck Sanders, the referee, was distracted, in a pleasant way, when Ms. Miki managed to sneak down to ringside and plant a liplock on him... as he struggled (?) to free himself, the Fabs entered the ring, attacking the Down Boys and Dragons with a lead pipe. Levelling all four men, as well as Awesome T, who tried to stop them, Sho and Agito set to work on the fallen Down Boys' knees, before the entrance of Bear and Grey Phoenixsent them running. As the Dragons and Down Boys were helped form the ring, Dan Oliver needed support from his partner and Grey Phoenix to return. WINNER: No Contest, 9:31. DB: Here is another prime example of what I am talking about... the backstabbing, bun-leaping AbFabs pounding the hell out of the Down Boys when they aren't scheduled to face them. BL: Oh, come on, Bacon... you can't tell me that you didn't enjoy seeing them get their asses pounded? DB: If you enjoy it, it explains why you walk so funny, LaRue... LM: Good grief. Roll the next clip. BL: Just watch the clowns, Bacon... [Morton panics and runs off at the word "Clown".] ----------------------------------------------- Derek Mota & Richard "Moxy" Blue vs. Harlequins ----------------------------------------------- From the get-go, this match was obviously Harlequin-powered. Despite some nice shows of skill, specifically "Moxy" Blue against Terror and Mota against Chaos, the double teams from the Clown unit kept them well occupied. Stone was not a factor in this match, save for bopping Tragedy on the head when he got too uppity and in his face. Derek Mota's anger at "Moxy" Blue and the inefficiency of the team itself -- as well as being stuck in this position -- led him to a shoving contest, which Terror took advantage of by rolling up Mota for the pin. After the match, Mota snapped on "Moxy", blaming him for the defeat. Despite the attempts of a horde of minis, who seemed to be getting in the way of the official security personnel with their antics rather than helping, Mota was able to attack "Moxy" with brutal efficiency. Blue was stretchered out after a vicious Main Attraction somersault splash to the outside and through the timekeeper's table. WINNERS: Harlequins, by pinfall, 5:12. DB: Big win for the... BL: Oh, cut it out. It was a comic attempt to turn Derek Mota into a laughing stock. DB: Worked, too. I don't think we'll be seeing this team in action too long... no matter what the President says. Just ask Richard "Moxy" Blue. The Down Boys could be in real trouble on Saturday Night, with both Dan Oliver and now "Moxy" apparently on the shelf. BL: Speaking of not seeing... think we've seen the last of Morton? DB: Fate would never be so kind... on to the... BL: Hold it. Main event's mine. DB: Knock yourself out. BL: Enigma Takezo Musashi against Edmund Fitzgerald. We have some words from the Cruiserweight champ... --------------------------------------------------------------------- MAIN EVENT: NON-TITLE:  "Enigma" Takezo Musashi vs. Edmund Fitzgerald --------------------------------------------------------------------- [SCENE: The "Enigma" Takezo Musashi, attired in his now familiar loose black wrestling pants and red pentacle face paint, is heading down the backstage corridors of the Guantanamo Bay Naval Base, on the way out for his match against Edmund Fitzgerald. Suddenly, Musashi is intercepted by a somewhat nervous Larry Morton, who eagrely proffers a microphone.] LM: Takezo, you're just minutes away from stepping into the ring against     Edmund Fitzgerald, the former tag team partner and best friend of     Icehawk, whom you put in hospital just over a week ago. What are     your feelings going into this match? [Musashi's eyes flash with dangerous menace, perhaps with the contemplation of either answering Morton's question, or busting him in the chops.] TM: Feelings? I have no particular feeling for Edmund Fitzgerald. To me     he is a mere insect, a fly in the ointment who has been just a     little too annoying and a little too persistant for my liking. You     would do better to ask Fitz what he is feeling right now... he is     the one who will be stepping into the ring with his head clouded     by emotion. He is a foolish and weak man, for his motivation is     ultimately one of sympathy and compassion. He feels an ache in his     heart for the destruction of his friend, and now he wants vengeance     for it. You will find no such pitiable feelings in the heart of the     Enigma. In a warrior there is no place for the compassion felt by     lesser men. When I step into that ring, it will be with the cold,     calculating menace of a tiger on the hunt, and for that reason, more     than any other, Fitzgerald will become nothing more than fodder for     the killer instinct residing within me. LM: What about Icehawk, who is sure to be watching this broadcast from     his hospital bed? Do you have anything to say to him? An apology     maybe? [Musashi smiles faintly and grimly, and in that smile, is a hint of deadly madness.] TM: There will be no apologies uttered from these lips. A strong man     does not repent his actions, for whether they be virtuous or     dishonourable, he has the stomach to face their consequences... and     reap them. Icehawk, your desire for vengeance has been kindled, and     now you want to live your revenge through your friend. I assure you     now, there shall be no pay back. You shall have no satisfaction     tonight. As I already proved on Saturday night, Fitzgerald is fully     within my power. I am his master, and it shall be my privelege to     disect him before all the world. A warrior's reward is in the     overcoming of his opponents, and I shall revel in Fitzgerald's     destruction, just as I revelled in yours, and will do so in the     shattered dreams of every other wrestler in the IIWF. LM: What kind of strategy will you... TM: [cutting Morton off with a gesture of his hand] The time for talk is     over. Let us begin the tale of violence. [Musashi turns and continues to stalk down the corridor, out towards the arena, determination flaming in his gaze.] Fitz came to ringside looking to kill, toting his oar, and the fans just ate it up as he swung it about like a battle staff of old... Musashi, on the other hand, was greeted with a chorus of boos that rocked the rafters. The match was scarcely that, as Hugo Hugo continued to show a general lack of knowledge about the rules. Takezo Musashi seemed intent on crippling Fitzgerald, who in blind rage lashed out and struck the first blood, splitting his lip. Musashi retaliated with a series of hard hits against the stairs, as the War Room was treated to a rare hardcore style match with both competitors bleeding profusely before long. In the end, Musashi drew a shiv to strike Fitzgerald, only to be stopped by Hugo Hugo. The tiny ref went sailing and the bell was rung, and Musashi's attempts to blood Fitz between the eyes was coutnered by a wide sweep of the oar which knocked him over the top rope. The fans cheered loudly as Fitz raised his hands up high... WINNER: Edmund Fitzgerald, by DQ, 8:32 [Cut back to Bacon and LaRue, with Morton sitting in a jeep beside a young lieutenant in Castro's army.] DB: Edmund Fitzgerald with a big win there... and Friday Night, Icehawk has something important to say to the world. BL: He's quitting. Retiring. It figures. Makes some sense. [The young man helps the shivering Morton out of the jeep] LIEUTENANT: Seor y Seorita... We have found this one running in terror. Our leader, Generalissimo Castro, has asked us to offer to you these gifts for your historic visit to Kooba. BL: "Kooba?" LIEUTENANT: To Seor Morton, a bag of our finest vanilla beans... and a fine new suit, from Mr. Castro's private tailor, of linen from this island. [Larry smiles vapidly, still in shock.] LIEUTENANT: To Seor Bacon, a box of fine cigars. [Dave takes the box, smiles.] DB: Oh yeah, this is the brand that's rolled on the thighs of young women. Eat your heart out, Steve Roberts... BL: Hmm...I'd like to feel something like that rolled between my legs... DB: Supposed to be on a place where hands aren't frequently... BL: Who's talking about rolling tobacco...? I said SOMETHING... LIEUTENANT: Seorita LaRue... he has asked me to offer you my services for the remainder of your stay... BL: [looking him up and down] Think we all get what we want here... DB: Watch on Friday for Morton... if he ever recovers... and "Countdown for Saturday Night". Until then, I'm your host, Dave Bacon. BL: And I'm your host, Becky LaRue. DB & BL: For my associates, good night. ["Cholita" by Chacras, the native Peruvian group plays as Becky sizes up the young lieutenant and Dave licks the cigar before biting the end off it, lighting up. Morton looks dazed, clutching his gifts tightly. Fade.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Gregg Osterhout | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | ghost@frii.com | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+