C + O + U + N + T + D + O + W + N T + O ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/..............\........|...|.......|....| with Larry Morton February 20, 1998 [The shot opens with the familiar sight of the Countdown set. Larry Morton occupies the chair on the left of the low table, with the right chair lying empty. Morton looks a little distraught.] LM: Uh... welcome to another edition of Countdown. We have big news here tonight and I think the whole crew is in shock. As you may remember, the guest host for tonight was scheduled to be Duncan Macbeth but... I think I'd better let the footage explain this one. [Cut to footage labeled "Minutes ago". Morton and Macbeth are seen talking before the live taping of the show. All of a sudden, Simon Lebec walks onto the set behind the two. They can't see him, since they are facing the other way but the camera picks up his every movement. Lebec, slowly and cautiously, raises a table leg high into the air above Macbeth's head. Macbeth, still unsuspecting, continues talking. Off-stage camera hands yell out to Morton and Macbeth, but in a flash, with one quick vicious blow, Lebec swings at Macbeth's head with the oak table leg, as if it were a baseball bat. Macbeth is knocked from his chair as Lebec is grabbed by a burly sound engineer.] LM: OH MY GOD! SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE! [Lebec tediously turns his head to face Morton. Lebec points the table leg at Morton, motioning for him to sit down. Morton obeys, as Lebec speaks:] SL: Please, Mr. Morton. This here is my time. Not Kowalski's, or Petrow's, or Shakespeare's, or 'Bringer's... but my time ta speak. I think I've been a pretty good darned employee ta this here fed'ration since th' get go. So this is mine. A time ta speak. [Lebec looks down at Macbeth, who has not moved an inch] A wise man once told me, "If ya love yer work, then ya never work a day in yer life." [Lebec looks at the table leg.] Fer a long time, I ain't never loved much o' anythin'. Hated th' job. Wondered why I was th' only man form th' 'riginals ta have never won nothin' but a life-time memer'ship ta the infirmary. Wondered why. Why was I th' most creative? Why was I mid-cardin' matches as a steppin' stone fer th' next big thing? [Lebec takes out a cigarette and lights it. Meanwhile, medical personnel have arrived on the scene and are tending to Macbeth.] But I never complained. Not once. An' that lingered fer a while. A long while. 'Fore I knew it, it lingered ta m' brain. An' they took me away in canvas. People said I lost m' mind. I never lost it... but found it. [Lebec takes a drag, and flicks the ash from his cigarette onto Macbeth, who has now been placed on a stretcher.] An' I returned, wit m' new found insight. The insight that ya only win in th' Double Eye by either kissin' ass or kickin' it. An' since I have enough self-respect not ta kiss ass, I decided ta kick it... startin' wit yer heathen ass. [Lebec puffs back the remnants of his cigarette, and then throws the butt onto Macbeth's chest as the medical personnel prepare to move him.] But I was gonna do it clean. Ferget 'bout th' past. "Wrestle Clean", like ol' Greggie would say. An' you people... ya didn't wanna have any o' that. No sir. 'Fraid o' what I'd become if I did. 'Fraid that ol' Lebec might actually become a star. [Lebec lights another cigarette as he looks down at Macbeth.] An' where'd it get ya, Duncan? Got ya lyin' on a table wit yer head smashed in. That's where it got ya. An' ta top it off, ya scared Larry here half ta death. [Morton is still kind of stunned. The medical team now gingerly lifts the stretcher, and carry Macbeth out of the shot.] An' where'd it get ya? Sure, ya still got yer lil' ol' belt ta keep yer pants up. Least I still got m' brain. Ya can't say that anymore. An' though I may be diff'rent, or unconventional... some say ol' Simon's got some funny wirin'... I still know what I am. An' that, m' Scottish padre, is one pure genius. But yeah, ya still got yer lil' belt. Ya got it... fer now. 'Til I decide that I could use a belt o' my own. Then, ya won't have nothin'... [Lebec takes a drag of his smoke] 'Cept an openin' card match against th' next big thing. An' as fer m' work? [Lebec looks at the tabl leg and grins.] Feels like I'm on a permanent vacation. [Lebec walks over to Morton, taking Morton's hand and shaking it] Thank you, Mr. Morton. You have a nice day. [With a smile, Lebec leaves the set, accompanied by the burly sound engineer. Larry sits back at his chair, obviously shaken. The shot cuts back to the live broadcast.] LM: As you see, Duncan Macbeth was brutally assaulted here on the set of Countdown by Simon Lebec. Lebec has since vanished from the building and I understand it's a good thing for him because Timothy Turner, who had come to watch his friend's broadcast but got here too late to witness the attack, is tearing the building apart looking for him. Our producer, Rusty Priske, is right now trying to find him so we can get a word. In the meantime, let's look over the results of action _inside_ the ring on Wednesday War Room. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| REWIND: IIWF Wednesday War Room: 18 February 1998 |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... El Super Gecko d. Billy Shakespeare Tragedy d. Mini-Deathbringer Masked Terror d. Paul Wong by count-out Battalion d. Scott "The Whine" Bloom Down Boys drew with the American Dragons Harlequins d. Derek Mota and Richard "Moxy" Blue Edmund Fitzgerald d. Takezo Musashi by disqualification LM: What a week for injuries! Richard Blue seemed to be hurt on Wednesday and we could get no word from him for this show. We will have an update from the Down Boys as to thier condition. [Timothy Turner storms onto the set, with a clear rage behind his eyes.] LM: It looks like Rusty has found Timothy Turner. I guess Lebec... TNT: Ran like the coward he is! When I get my hands around that scrawny neck...or better yet, when Duncan gets his massive paws around that neck he's going to pop your head off like an over-ripe fruit! LM: Is there any word on Macbeth? How bad are his injuries? Will he be able to wrestle in your match on Saturday Night? TNT: I...don't know. I talked to him before the ambulance left and he didn't look very good. I was going to go to the hospital but he made me promise to come on the show. It seems he didn't want to be like Mota and leave you high and dry to work with Rusty or Shawn or something. LM: Well, you are welcome here. I just wish it had been under different circumstances. Since you're here, do you have nay comments on Wednesday's card? TNT: Just that is was a joke. Blind guys and minis? Not to mention the biggest joke of all...Musashi. Wait, I take that back. Musashi isn't a joke...he's a sick excuse for a human being. I was never pals with Icehawk but this...this... What is the IIWF becoming? First Musashi...now Lebec. I just don't understand why someone doesn't put a stop to this. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| PREVIEW: IIWF Saturday Night - 21 Feb 1998 |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... LM: Let's take a look at tomorrow's action-packed card! We will se a title defense by the number one man in the IIWF as well as the third week in Shadoe Rage's "booking rights" month. TNT: And a match between the two best tag teams in the IIWF! LM: I assume you are talking about your match but won't that depend on whether or not Duncan is able to compete? TNT: So how about the Psycho? ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF Heavyweight Championship Match: Steve "The Fury" Kowalski vs. Subway Psycho ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: Kowalski has a tough title defense on tap... TNT: Tough? Against the Subway Psycho? WHat has this guy done to deserve a title match? I never got my title shot that Brody Thunder promised but I recognize that those are the breaks in the big show! Yet this guy waltzes in after managing to beat no one and gets a shot! LM: Don't forget what a great... TNT: Don't tell about how great he used to be! That's acient history! Do you know who should get a shot? LM: Who? TNT: Derek Mota. LM: Mota? Why Mota? TNT: Because I know I could bait him into giving me a shot and I already know I can beat him! LM: Both men are too busy preparing for this match-up to give us any comments... TNT: Kowalski is too busy spending the big fat royalty cheques he's getting and the Psycho is too busy wallowing in the muck that is his life. Either way, Kowalski is going to hand the has-been his liver. LM: Let's hear what the Fury himself thinks about this match. [The hustle and bustle of New York City can be seen through the window of the taxi. A short sight of the USS Intrepid goes by as the cabby spouts off in some foreign language. A hand reaches forward and points to the Taxi's license reading, Nanji Harotej. Gruff laughter mixed in with cameraman's chuckle drowns out the taxi driver's comments. A minute later, we notice the sun going down, darkening the front of Chelsea Piers. At least until the lights kick in.] Make a left. Yeah over there, by the Emerald. [Doing his bidding, the taxi driver pulls across the busy intersection just in front of the Emerald. The camera angle gets a little crazy while the camera man gets out of the cab. Opposite of the cab, Steve Kowalski gets out on the other side. The Fury tosses a few bills to the jabbering driver and sends him on his way. Cold air hard on his lungs the camera man says...] CM: Are we there yet, champ? Been awhile since I've been in the city. SK: There's always an 'ntrance if ya walk a couple. Yep. Here we go. [The two men make their way to a nearby subway entrance. You can hear the rumbling of the underground trains, you can smell the steam. At this hour people are rushing in and out of the entrance. The New Jersey Nightmare isn't in a rush, just leans on a nearby brick wall. The camera man, knowing it will be a while starts up a conversation...] CM: So is Spreadbury really trying to get you out of the spotlight? Guys in the production area said the prez pulled one of your promos last week. SK: Yup. I guess he's gonna try an' keep my down while I'm the champ. Well [BLEEP]'em. He jus' wants someone he can send on his IIWF cruises, promo parties an' them stupid ass book signin's. He'd rather have me wreckin' the Double Eye than runnin' it. CM: He wants the old Fury. SK: I'm right here. I ain't the same guy that used to come to the arenas piss drunk an' take swings at the suits. I'll mix it up wit' anyone an' get dog mean an' bleed fer the fed. But I gotta keep my head 'bout me. [BLEEP]! I had the belt fer a week an' bad judgment took it away. I ain't sayin' I ain't the bare-knuckle bastard that walked into this fed a year an' a half ago, but I like to think I learned a few thin's. CM: The crowd is slowing down, maybe we should get down there and shoot the Subway Psycho promo. You know that buyrate and all. SK: Nah. Ferget it. I don't feel like it now. Let Danny have the production crew put together a bunch of old clips. CM: Steve. This is going to be a knock down drag out battle between a respected former champion against the current bad boy with the belt! The Norse would have called it Ragnarok. Christians would call it Armageddon! The Irish would call it open bar! And you want me to avoid this chance in history to capture the ominous comments of the most targeted man in wrestling? SK: Aw...The fans know it's gonna be good. 'Sides, I'll buy. CM: I'm there man! [Fade into a black screen with white letters spelling, "[BLEEP] Subway... Ya ain't worth a flash!"] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Over the Top Rope Death Match: "Savage" Shadoe Rage vs. "Saguinary" Steve Manning vs. "Team Psychosis" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: This next match is almost too bizarre to call! Rage has signed for a match and I don't even know who all the competitors are! TNT: Rage will stomp Manning with ease. As for Team Psychosis, we've got the real ones. I don't know who the copies are. Is this another Down Boys trick? LM: Who knows? Maybe Shadoe will shed some light on it in this clip. [Fade in: Shadoe Rage twirls before the camera, showing off his glittering robes. He stares right into the camera, his eyes hot.] SR: Sanguinary ... Sanguinary ... well, well, well, are you really so deadly? Steve. I am in blood, steeped in so deep that to return to the shore would be more onerous than to go o'er. Steve Manning, you may be the most extreme wrestler in the IIWF, but I'm the most lethal. I don't care if I drive your skull through a table. No, I don't. I only care that I split you open! Believe me, I liked the sight of you in a wheelchair. I liked it a lot. And I'm going to put you right back in that chair, Steve. I promise you that. So, die in darkness! [Fade out] LM: He doesn't even mention this Team Psychosis but he's the one who signed the match! TNT: I guess we find out tomorrow night. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Team Sychosys vs. "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner and Duncan Macbeth ------------------------------------------------------------------------ TNT: Now here is the match that really tops the card! We are going to see the two top teams in the tag ranks! LM: I never really thought of you two as a tag team... TNT: No one really thought of Petrow and McArthur as a tag team either but they won the Battle Royal! LM: How can you possibly last against Joe Petrow and Maurice McArthur if Duncan Macbeth isn't at 100 percent? TNT: You forget that 50 percent of Duncan is more than enough to whip any wrestler in the IIWF and that doesn't even mention the Rocket Man! LM: We've got some special footage from Team SYchosys and our producer just informed me that he has found Duncan Macbeth footage that was to be shown on the European re-broadcast of War Room on Sunday. TNT: This should be good. [Just after daybreak, in a slight-less-than-afluent area of Bayomon, Puerto Rico. Putting it bluntly, it is a slum. Only a weary-eyed old man is seen walking on the quiet street, until an old white van pulls up nearby. Several men emerge from the van...familiar to IIWF fans as The Smooth, "Party Animal" Marty Warnett, "Mr. Majestyk" Maurice McArthur, and "Sychosys" Joe Petrow. The sky grows brighter and brighter, as time-lapse photography video shows the various stages of the construction of an impromptu musical set. McArthur brings out some stools, The Smooth brings out a couple of sets of bongo drums, Warnett a couple of acoustic guitars, and Petrow brings out some microphones, and seems to be supervising the whole operation. McArthur is seen tuning his guitar, while Smooth cooks on the bongos. Petrow and Warnett appear to be discussing something or other. Warnett uncharacteristically refuses a can of Mooselips, instead offering Petrow a bottle of "El Paralizar" mescal. Petrow takes a drink, then immediately spits the contents all over his feet, Sychosys squeezing his eyes shut while the Party Animal and others look on in laughter. It's now about mid-morning, and many people walk around the set-up, striking curious glances at Petrow's makeshift band as the prepare for...whatever. Finally, they appear to be ready. The Smooth sits behind a set of bongos, his massive frame almost completely obscuring the very stool upon which he sits, Warnett and McArthur do some last minute tuning with their guitars, and Petrow goes up to the microphone to address...whomever happens to be listening.] JP: Alright, our next number today, is dedicated to those men and women who, in some way, paid the ultimate price for our great sport. SMOOTH: La cancion siguiente se dedica a los hombres y a las mujeres que han muerto por este deporte. JP: People like the Von Erichs, Eddie Gilbert, Plum Mariko, Brian Pillman, and most recently, Louie Spiccoli. SMOOTH: Para la gente tal como el Von Erichs, Eddie Gilbert, Plum Mariko, Brian Pillman, y recientemente Louie Spiccoli. JP: But most of all, it's dedicated to man who met his tragic end right here in Bayomon. SMOOTH: Pero la mayoria de todos los todos, esta para alguien que murio aqui en Bayomon. JP: A man named Frank Goodish, but known to you all as Bruiser Brody. Big guy, this one's for you. SMOOTH: Un hombre nombro a Frank Goodish, si no conocido como Bruiser Brody. El Vaquero, este esta para usted. [Petrow looks back at his group, and calls, "1..2...1 2 3 4..." Smooth starts out with a slow, but purposeful groove on his bongos. After a few seconds, Warnett plucks in with a groove of his own, as Petrow walks back to take his place by his set of bongos to play as well. For the first minute, it isn't apparent what they are playing... ...until McArthur comes in with his backup guitar, and the band settles into an acoustic rendition of a song known the world over. Soon, Petrow leaves his bongos to take his place up front at the mic, and begins to sing in his best Don Henley voice, which tends to have a little Peter Gabriel flavor inadvertantly thrown in:] JP: # On a dark desert highway Cool wind in my hair Warm smell of colitas Rising up through the air Up ahead in the distance I saw a shimmering light My head grew heavy, and my sight grew dim I had to stop for the night # [Several passers-by have stopped what they were doing to watch the spectacle, and even a car now stands idle in the road, watching Petrow sing with a passion few people have ever seen from him outside of a wrestling ring.] JP: # There she stood in the doorway I heard the mission bell And I was thinking to myself This could be Heaven or this could be Hell Then she lit up a candle And she showed me the way There were voices down the corridor I thought I heard them say # ALL: # Welcome to the Hotel California # JP: # Such a lovely place # 4M: # Such a lovely place # JP: # Such a lovely face # ALL: # Plenty of room at the Hotel California # JP: # Any time of year # MW: # Any time of year # JP: # You can find it here # [A crowd nearly of over 100 people of all shapes and sizes now hover around the group, and traffic on the small side road his been bottlenecked to a stop.] JP: # Her mind is Tiffany twisted She's got the Mercedes Benz She's got a lot of pretty, pretty boys That she calls friends How they dance in the courtyard Sweet summer sweat Some dance to remember Some dance to forget So I called up the Captain "Please bring me my wine" He said "We haven't had that spirit here since 1969" And still those voices are calling from far away Wake you up in the middle of the night Just to hear them say # ALL: # Welcome to the Hotel California # JP: # Such a lovely place # 4M: # Such a lovely place # JP: # Such a lovely face # ALL: # They're livin' it up at the Hotel California # JP: # What a nice surprise # SMOOTH: [near soprano level] # What a nice surprise # JP: # Bring your alibies... # JP: # Mirrors on the ceiling Pink champagne on ice And she said "We are all just prisoners here Of our own device" And in the master's chambers They gathered for the feast They stab it with their steely knives But they just can't kill the beast Last thing I remember I was running for the door I had to find the passage back to the place I was before "Relax" said the nightman "We are programed to receive You can check out any time you like But you can never leave!" # [As the flock gazes on at this surreal scene, Petrow returns to the bongos to contribute to the long instrumental finish. Petrow and the Smooth appear to be engaged in some sort of "Bongo Wars", and Warnett is off on some inspired jam of own, while McArthur holds the song together with the main riff. After about two minutes of this, Petrow gives the signal, and the group stops with a dramatic close. The stunned crowd gives a large round of applause to the unlikely musicians, as Sychosys goes around giving everybody high-fives. A few chickens fly across the screen as the camera fades to black.] [SCENE: Bayamon, Puerto Rico, the next stop on the IIWF's Road To Ring Wars V tour. On the outskirts of the city, the IIWF camera van rolls down a dirt road lined with small, run-down adobe brick shacks, and the van has to swerve several times to avoid the occasional flock of chickens. At the end of the road is a more modern-looking building, a warehouse of some kind, although it is as weatherbeaten as the brown brick houses around it. Several villagers stop what they are doing to watch the van as it pulls up in front of the warehouse, which is decorated in the front with several old, ragged Spanish posters from long-contested boxing matches which waver strangely in the midday heat, identifying the warehouse as some sort of crude gymnasium. The van parks beside the only other moter vehicle in the street, a gleaming blue and silver BMW motorcycle, and the cameraman climbs out, shouldering his camera. The cameraman tentatively pulls open a rusty, corrugated steel door in front of the gym , peering inside and then entering. Inside, the gym is abuzz with activity. The light is low, and the humidity in the gym is almost unbearable, but that doesn't seem to hinder the dozen or so would-be boxers from going about their business. One young Puerto Rican youth is banging away ferociously at a worn-looking heavy bag that looks like it's about to burst its seams, while another works away at a speed bag with limited success. Several others do sit-ups and push-ups on the bare dirt floor of the warehouse, and in one of the two ancient-looking practise rings, two very-young looking boys trade jabs and hooks, with a large fat trainer barking at them in Spanish from the outside. However, the scene is dominated by the happenings in the second ring, where a tall, pale, bare-chested stranger is standing atop the turnbuckles in one corner, staring down at a heavy bag lying on its side in the centre of the ring. As several boxers gather at ringside to watch, the pale red-haired stranger drives his weight down into the ropes and snaps into the air, tucking tight and pinwheeling through the air in a double somersault before opening up and smashing into the bag on the mat, his hands and knees cushioning his impact as his chest makes a deep impression in the bag. The boxers let loose with a hearty cheer as IIWF Intercontinental Champion Duncan Macbeth stands and frowns, obviously not as impressed with the move as his audience. Macbeth nods to the boxers, and grabs a towel from the corner, wiping his face and throwing the towel over his shoulder before noticing the camera, and the champ flips over the ropes and seats himself on the apron, wiping away damps strands of ruddy hair from his face.] DM: [looks at the ring behind him and sighs to himself] I dinnae ken wha' they're all cheerin' about -- 'tis no' a proper Starsault Press without th' triple flip, but I had t' double out. Bleedin' boxin' rings -- no' enough tension in th' ropes, wha'. No matter. I'll jus' keep workin' on it 'till I get it righ'. [Macbeth looks up at the camera, his green eyes glinting, and he gestures around the crude gymnasium.] No' exactly th' kind o' facilities ye'd find in Nagano, would ye, Petrow? There's no Nautilis equipment 'ere, no Stairmasters, no Skywalkers, an' no bleedin' jacuzzis or massage tables, wha'. Jus' a bunch o' young guttersnipes wi' nothin' but a leaky, run-down shack o' a gym, crude equipment -- an' th' drive t' be th' best they can be. Story o' me bleedin' life. Ye ken, Petrow, I get righ' off me arse when people try t' treat me like a steppin' stone. Like I'm goin' t' be some kind o' pushover, like beatin' me is goin' t' be yuir ticket t' bigger an' better things. Like gettin' past me is a foregone conclusion. Ye can't be THA' crazy, Joe. But ye may be tha' stupid. Th' team o' Turner an' Macbeth is no more a "throw-together" team than Team Sychosys, Petrow. In fact, th' only think keepin Tim an' I from taggin' together full-time again an' takin' th' IIWF World Tag titles ourselves, as we've taken other tag titles in th' past, is this wee trinket 'ere... [Macbeth reaches into his equipment bag on the floor beside him, and pulls out the IIWF Intercontinental Title belt, holding it up for the camera as the boxers behind him stare at the golden belt with admiration.] An' wastin' me time wi' ye an' tha' mouth-breathin' speed bump McArthur, when I should be defendin' this belt, just gets me off me arse even MORE. [Macbeth lays the belt back over the bag, and chuckles to himself.] But I'll cut ye some slack on tha' point, Joe. After all, ye can't properly appreciate wha' it's like t' have t' defend a singles title in th' IIWF, can ye? [The champion's demeanour suddenly clouds over, and Macbeth's eyes narrow as he glowers at the camera.] Ye can hype Team Sychosys all ye want, Petrow, an' talk an' talk an' talk about how ye an' McArthur are goin' t' "rock" Tim an' I, but if ye want a victory tomorrow nigh', ye're goin' t' have t' sweat fer it. Maybe even bleed fer it, wha'. 'Cause while ye've been talkin', Joe, I've been 'ere in Bayamon. Workin'. Same as I do day after day, week after week, month after month an' year after year. Payin' fer my successes th' same way I do me defeats -- wi' sweat, an' pain, an' blood. Preparin' meself fer anythin' that anybody in th' IIWF might throw at me. Preparin' meself fer YE, Petrow. An' ye too, McArthur, 'cause I'll no be overlookin' ye tomorrow nigh', either. [Macbeth looks down at the Intercontinental Title laying across his equipment bag, and grins.] I ken ye still think ye should be th' Intercontinental Champion, McArthur. Tomorrow nigh', I'm goin' t' demonstrate t' ye why ye're not. An' Tim an' I are goin' t' demonstrate t' th' both o' ye tha' it takes a helluva lot more than good P.R. t' make a successful tag team. [Macbeth whips the towel off of his neck and climbs back into the ring, pausing to turn back to the camera before stepping through the ropes.] So keep talkin', Team Sychosys. I'm goin' t' keep workin'. An' we'll see tomorrow nigh' whose way works better. [The camera pulls back as Macbeth steps through the ropes into the ring, and catches the Intercontinental Champion as he executes a complex tumbling pass from corner to corner as the scene fades out.] LM: That was a very touching tribute by Joe Petrow. TNT: I know that I am supposed to jump up and down and say how I'm going to destroy Team Sychosys but... you're a class act, Joe. Well done. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Blacklight" Billy Shakespeare vs. "To Excess" Rick Williams ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: This is a match which Shakespeare fans have been dreading. TNT: And I have to agree with them. Williams, I have like to your style but you are making a big mistake agreeing to this match. What do you have to gain. "Look! I can beat up a blind guy!" It's pathetic. Soon I'm going to have to add you to the list... Musashi, Lebec... and Williams. LM: Both athletes had comments for this... unusual... encounter. [Billy Shakespeare sits in a gym, dark sunglasses cover his useless eyes. His body is hunched..he is obviously only a shell of the former champion he once was. Beside him is a bucket of tennis balls. Methodically he lifts out a ball, throwing it against the wall, then trying to catch it using sound and judgement alone. His failure rate is 100%, but still he continues to throw the balls.] BS: [Turning at the sound of the cameraman] Is it time for my interview already? I've got little to say except this: Rick Williams, you took my spotlight, my glory not so easily won...nor as easily taken back. But there is one man that can do it. Just keep in mind, the show isn't over until the cast appears for their final bow. As my great-great grandpappy once wrote in Hamlet: Play out the play. [He throws the ball against the wall again, plucking it out of the air without looking. A slow smile creeps over his face. Fade.] [Scene opens to a shot of a quiet, and seemingly empty gym. After 3-4 seconds, the silence is interrupted by a creaking door, which is followed by the sound of footsteps. As the camera pans around, the figure of "To Excess" Rick Williams steps into view. Dressed in black shorts and his "I shot J.R.... and I KILLED Billy Shakespeare" T-shirt, Williams carries a bottle of water, which he takes a drink from before he begins to speak.] RW: Well, well, well... who woulda thought it? Who'd have thought that good ol' Dan would finally start giving me a little credit after all this time? Well, here's to you, _boss_, here's to you. [Williams raises the bottle of water towards the camera, as a wide grin appears on his face.] Or maybe I'm wrong... maybe I'm merely applauding the desperate actions of a desperate man. What's the matter Dan? Guilt finally got the better of you? You finally realised that constantly being pawned off was making me even more bitter and resentful? Well, whatever the reason, just don't expect a 'thank you' card anytime soon. [He takes another drink from the bottle, before pausing briefly. Then, a familiar devious, if not evil, grin appears on the face of the Minnesotan. Chuckling to himself, he proceeds.] And then we come to Billy, or as he'll be known on Sunday morning, the "late" Billy Shakespeare. You know, Bill, I always thought I'd cherish this day more than any other. But for some reason, I was wrong. You see, _this_ is almost a complete anti-climax... _this_ is almost too easy... _this_ is almost... wrong. Now, don't go getting me wrong, Bill -- Where _you're_ concerned, "To Excess" has the conscience of the devil himself, but there's something about this situation that just doesn't seem right. I guess I always pictured it differently. Sure, I'd win with relative ease, but you'd have had a few moments where you reminded everyone that you weren't always so washed up, before I triumphantly left the arena to a hero's ovation, with your carcass carried high over my shoulders. [Williams shrugs his shoulders, as if to emphasize his slight disappointment with the situation.] Oh, I know you're improving every time you step back into ring. As a matter of fact, I heard that Gecko almost needed to have a shower after Wednesday's match to wash off some perspiration. And for Gecko, that's a heavy workout. But on Saturday night, Bill, when it's all said and done, I know you won't be around to see it, so I'm gonna fill you in on what I'm gonna do. You see, I'm not gonna throw a party... I'm not gonna share my moment of glory with a dozen bottles of champagne... I got no sorrows to drown. Instead, I'm gonna claim my rightful place in the IIWF spotlight. I'm not gonna be pawned off anymore. It's the start of a journey -- a journey which culminates with "To Excess" claiming _all_ the spotlight... not because I lived off my reputation for years, but because there's nobody better. And Bill, when I sit atop that mountain, I'm gonna give you a special word of thanks -- for helping to make me the bitter and resentful bastard that I am. [Williams raises the bottle towards the camera once again.] Here's to you, _Spotlight_, here's to you. [Fade] TNT: He actually thinks that beating up on a blind man will make him feared in the IIWF? Scorned maybe. Reviled definitely. Just stay home Williams. It will do your rep a world of good. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Epitome of Evil" Serge Annis vs. Edmund Fitzgerald ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: A match featuring two men who are feared in the ring... TNT: What happened to Annis? A mean, a few weeks ago he was looking at being the next big thing. Now he's mid-carding against a guy is still thought of as a tag wrestler! LM: His torching of the cage holding Mad Dog Watkins has not made him any friends at IIWF Towers... TNT: Yeah right. If the boys in the tower didn't like in that must mean they couldn't market it. You should have seen them jump all over my Rocket Man gimmick so they could merchandise the hell out of it! LM: So how is the Rocket Man paraphanalia selling? TNT: Yeah, yeah. I know. I blew it. I was on top of the world and pissed off the fans by not defending the title. Get off my back. LM: Let's here from another man who knows all about alienating fans, Serge Annis, as well as his opponent, Edmund Fitzgerald at the recent interview with his partner, Icehawk. [The scene fades into an outdoor shot of an old church. The weather outside is beautiful. The sun shines high up in the sky with barely any clouds visible. The snow glistens off of the few inches of snow on the ground. A set of foot prints are seen leading up into the church's doorway. The camera moves forward, up to the massive wooden doors and slowly pushes one open, creeking the entire time. It takes a few moments for the camera to readjust itself to the light inside. The room is filled with light from the windows. The church has obviously not been used in quite some time as there are books scattered everywhere, several benches are tipped over or broken, and the overall lack of cleanliness is apparent. Dust settles amongst the beams of sunlight as the camera pans across the floor.] SA: "If the righteous are repaid on Earth... how much more the wicked and the sinner!" Proverbs 11:31. [The camera pans up to see Serge leaning against the ledge of the balcony, several meters up in the air. Annis is wearing black jeans and a black leather jacket with an old 'Genesis' group photo t-shirt.] SA: For a man who has no hopes, no faith and no morals, I may surprise you with the knowledge I possess. I like to believe God turned his back on me a long long time ago. Otherwise, he would have killed me when he had the chance. But now, his chance has passed and I must live the life he has given me. Charles Scheffield, my loss to you makes me question myself. Perhaps you are right. Maybe "hardcore" wrestling has no place in the IIWF. Maybe everyone should just stick to the rules and hope to get lucky. Charles, if I were to listen to that b-s, I would be out of a job. What I do is brawl, and no one can deny that I am one of the best brawlers going today. Charles, when looking back at that Wednesday night, consider yourself very lucky. That was the biggest win you shall ever recieve, and you certainly cannot do it again. For me, it was an embarassment. An utter embarrassment. [Annis looks down over the balcony and then sits down on the ledge.] SA: Edmund Fitgerald. You are the reason I am out here today. Out here, I am alone with my thoughts. This where I do my planning. Where I run every sick, evil and demented thought through my mind over and over again. The first time I ever came here was the day after I receieved a phone call from Adam Smith. The Highwayman. He called me asking if I wanted to join the hottest group in wrestling at the time, Genesis. I pondered the thought for many hours. And finally... I answered yes, I shall join Genesis. Yes, I shall be loyal to Genesis to the very end. And that is exactly what I have done. [Annis looks over the edge once more and procedes to jump down off of the balcony ledge, to the floor about nine feet below. Annis lands with a thud, but rises up, unharmed. Dust flies everywhere.] SA: Meanwhile, the rats left ship first. Cold Spell. You two cowards chickened out of the Genesis cause at the first sign of trouble. I contribute you as one of the main factors that brought an unfortunate end to Genesis. Edmund Fitzgerald, it is only you and I left. Requiem, gone. Smith, disappeared. Scott Rogers, gone. Icehawk, hurt as Hell. Heh heh. You ask if I remember kissing up to Requiem. Let me ask you... do you remember who won those tag team titles for you? Who made you the best tag team in the IIWF at the time? It wasn't your talent and it wasn't your skill. It was Genesis. You're an ungrateful slime, Edmund Fitzgerald... don't think I have forgotten. [Annis begins to walk down the center aisle of the desolate church.] SA: The IIWF has taken away the flame from which I draw my "power". Not a wise move on the account of the suits. First of all, I'm in a rotten mood. Second, well... there is no second. I am plain pissed off. And it's going to show as I tear into Fitzgerald and I separate his head from his neck and I put it up on my mantle as a reminder to all who face the Epitome. The IIWF has taken away my flame, but I guarantee... you cannot prevent yourselves from being burned. [Annis reaches the podium at the end of the isle, which rests on a platform with a few stairs up. Annis bends down and sits on the stairs. An eerie red tint light shines on Serge, the result of the sun shining through an oil glass window. Serge looks up to the camera after picking up an old bible.] SA: The IIWF has been at the mercy of Serge Annis for the last three months. And it isn't over yet. Not by a longshot. It won't be over until I prove to all my worth... until I keep my promise to win the IIWF World championship... and until I bury the demons of the past. And one of those shall be accomplished Saturday. I don't see myself getting a title shot, and I still have a long way to go before I please the critics... so Edmund Fitzgerald... as a reminder of Genesis... I shall put an end to you. Put to rest the remainder of a once mighty group. And in the end Fitz... when one of us arise and have our hands raised up, you're going to have to ask yourself... who's the damn man now? [Annis slams the bible shut and gets up and walks away. This time the camera does not follow him, but rather zooms in on an old, torn bible. It is open and the words can be read. "When I whet my flashing sword, and my hand takes hold on judgement... I will take vengence on my adversaries... and will repay those that hate me!" Deuteronomy 32:94. Fade to black.] [SCENE: The patient lounge at County General Hospital in Chicago. Tim Dross, dressed in his usual dull clothing, is seated in one of the overstuffed chairs. Sitting across from him is Icehawk, wearing street clothes and a rather frightening-looking neck brace.] TD: [looking directly at the camera] Welcome to Icehawk's first interview since he suffered two spinal injuries at the hands of the IIWF Cruiserweight champion - Takezo Musashi. [turns to Icehawk] The rumor is that you asked for this interview to announce your retirement. Is that true? IH: [looks startled] Of course not! TD: But the last two times that we have seen you, you've been carried out motionless. Aren't you afraid that the next time will be permanent? IH: Of course I am. But if I let that fear bother me, I would never been an Olympic gymnast or a wrestler to begin with. I would have found a desk job as a computer programmer or something. As a matter of fact, that is the only thing that Mushasi has said recently that I agree with. If I can't take the punishment, I don't belong in the sport. But I can take it, so I'll be back. TD: But haven't the doctors advised you to retire? IH: They have. I chose to ignore them. TD: A few weeks ago, I interviewed you and Fitz. On that day, you were wearing a Detroit Lions jersey with a 59 on the back. [Icehawk nods] That was to show your support for Reggie Brown, who you know slightly, right? IH: Right. TD: Aren't you afraid of ending up like Reggie? IH: I'd be proud. Did you see the ESPYs last week? TD: Yes. IH: There's a reason that Reggie got that standing ovation. Yeah, he might have to quit football, but he still has his family, and because of his courage, he's going to be able to live a full and happy life. What's wrong with ending up like that? TD: Good point. So what happens next? IH: Well, I've got a couple more weeks of rehab ahead, then I'll probably have to take a match or two to get ready. And then I want the Enigma. Badly. TD: And I assume you have some things planned with your Horsemen colleagues? IH: My what? TD: Well, everyone has been assuming that you are the fourth member of the new stable. You would be the logical fit with Fitz and the Predators. IH: Nope. If there is a fourth member, it isn't me. I had enough of stables with Genesis. Fitz is still my partner, and I'm one of the Preds' biggest fans, but no stables for me. TD: So the attack on the Enigma Saturday wasn't your idea? IH: The first I knew about it was when I saw it on TV. It was great, but I didn't plan it. But if those guys want to do it again, I've got a suggestion for the next targets. [At that moment, the door to the lounge swings open, and Edmund Fitzgerald enters, carrying a box of donuts.] EF: Hi, Tim. I was just bringing the kid some calories so that he doesn't weigh 120 pounds when he gets out of here. [Fitz sets down the box, and takes out a plain donut. Icehawk starts chomping on a custard eclair, and Dross takes a glazed donut.] EF: So, kiddo, who did you want us to take out next? IH: [with a mouthful of donut] Moxy and Mota. EF: Oh, don't worry. I have plans for them. I just have to put out Serge first. [Fitz looks over at Dross, who is still gobbling on his donut. He chuckles and turns to the camera.] EF: For Tim Dross, this is Edmund Fitzgerald saying so long from Chicago. Back to Larry and Duncan in the studio. [Fade.] LM: Thanks, Edmund! TNT: Uh, you do know that it was a recording? LM: I was just trying to... forget it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Down Boys and Richard "Moxy" Blue vs. the Fabulous Ones and a Mystery Partner ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: If the Sychosys, Turner, Macbeth match is questionable due to injury, this one is doubly so! TNT: The Down Boys didn't lose much if Blue is injured but there is no way that one Down Boy could take on both Fabulous Ones, with or without a mystery partner! LM: We've got clips from both teams. The Down Boys are to enlighten us a bit about the injury situation and the Fabulous Ones introduced me to thier mystery partner earlier today on this very set. It was not exactly the most pleasent feeling I've ever had. TNT: Just as long as it's not Lebec. Otherwise I may have to do some injuring of my own. [Camera shot of Awesome T and Adam Peterson pacing back and forth in a hospital waiting room. Both seem extremely concerned] AP: Where the hell is that doctor? AT: Here he comes now. [A man comes into the waiting room holding a clipboard. He flips some of the papers attached to it, then is grabbed by Adam Peterson.] AP: Is he gonna be okay, doc? Tell me, I can take the bad news! DOC: No no, everything's gonna be fine...in fact, your friend just gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. [Adam Peterson jumps for joy in the air, dancing around the waiting room, where he receives handshakes from all of the other people waiting. T, on the other hand, walks over and says something to the doctor, who flips through his papers again, this time tapping Peterson on the shoulder.] DOC: Why didn't you tell me you were with...him. Mr. Oliver sustained a severe knee injury Wednesday evening. His ACL is slightly torn, while his MCL is badly damaged, making him unable to support his weight. AP: What if he lost weight, Doc? DOC: That's not the point. If Mr. Oliver takes a few months off or so, I think he'll be fine. He needs to rehab that knee if he wants to get to his former self. He should be walking on his own power in a few weeks, but for the time being, I recommend he stay away from the ring for a few weeks. There's too much risk. [The doctor shrugs his shoulders and leaves the room] AP: This is BULL[bleep] man, we should be protected from stuff like that...hell, we're the bastions of justice of the IIWF! We "wrestle clean"...but no security to help us. This is crap...and with no Danny and now no Moxy, I'm friggin' screwed! I mean, I can wrestle and beat the Fab Ones by myself, but I don't know who they have as that mystery partner! That clever and witty skit they did with the classroom, that did nothing but CONFUSE ME!!! WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY!! [Peterson drops to the floor by T's feet, pounding the ground with his fists.] AT: Oh...don't worry Adam...I'll figure something out...I'll just make a few phone calls, and you'll have partners. Somebody owes us...someone who's just like us... [Fade.] [Footage taken before “Countdown to Saturday Night” came on the air. Larry Morton is behind the “Countdown” desk with two chairs next to him.] LM: Hello IIWF fans. This is a special early taping of “Countdown” for tonight’s official show.... [Just then Ms. Miki walks onto the set followed by “The Universal Heartthrob” Agito Nakajima and “Sweet” Sho Satsuma, the Fabulous Ones. Ms. Miki is wearing a flower patterned sun-dress, with her hair tied up in a bun. Agito is wearing black slacks, dress shoes, and a blue gaberdine, button down shirt. Sho has on black jeans and boots, a white tank top, with a leather jacket. Ms. Miki takes a seat as well as Sho.] MM: Arigato, Mr. Morton-san. I know this is a little strange for you, but I’m sure your producer Rusty-kun wont mind the ratings this will give the show. SS: How’s it hanging Larry? LM: Well, a little to the left, I guess? AN: [Standing behind Sho and Ms. Miki.] Lets get the show on the road. I’d like to say a few words about our upcoming six man match. Sho-kun and myself have been listening to your lame excuse for a manager preach about how we’re nothing, and how you’ve beaten us, and so on. Well, look at the facts. Not once have you gotten a far victory over us. Not once has the referees done their jobs properly. And, not once have you shown any wrestling ability in the ring. Therefore, when you come talking about us being jealous of you, you should take a look at your own selves. First of all, you two were running around acting like Damage Inc, not us. SS: I believe that’s called pathetic! They had an identity conflict! AN: Now that your back to your little Down Children persona, you come to the ring like rejects from the 80's. Don’t get me wrong, the 80's were pretty good, but your idolization of bands like Poison and Warrant is a far cry from anything with substance. SS: Not much unlike their wrestling ability! [Sho starts laughing.] AN: You seem to think your above us, that your better. So far you’ve proven nothing! You come out in your poofy hair, with bad t-shirts and think that the ladies like you. Well, think again! When it comes to the ladies, Sho and I have that covered. [Sho stands up, takes off his jacket and poses. He looks into the camera with a huge smile on his face.] SS: Nothing’s as “Sweet” as this! [He sits back down.] AN: Now, lets cover the match at hand. We looked all over the federation for a partner that would get the job done. For somebody who might fit the beliefs of our wrestling style. However, in the process of finding this person, we had to sacrifice in the looks department. So, Down Children and Moxy, here’s your worst nightmare come true....”The Demon” Damien Lestat! ["The Demon" Damien Lestat, with his red-and-white cooler, Mr. Coolie, safely tucked underneath his arm, enters from the right. His greasy hair obstructs his acne-filled face. After a step or two, Lestat generates an internal noise and spits a wad of goo off the set] [All eyes are on this lunatic as he wipes his beard kinda clean of the mucussy remnants. Lestat's widened dark eyes scamper about as he stands in back of the seated Sho] MM: [Leaning over to Larry.] I bet you weren’t expecting this?! LM: [With a shocked expression.] I can’t say I was. SS: That was the point. We’re going to destroy those three kuso’s tomorrow night, and figured this was the man to help us get it done. [Without notice, Lestat swiftly pulls Sho's seat from under him sending Sho to the floor. Dazed, confused and somewhat angry, Sho looks up towards Lestat whom motions for Sho to "move"] DL: [in his gravelly voice] Get the f outta the way, ya' stupid bastard. Mr. Coolie needs a god-damn place to sit! [After looking at Agito whom nods approvingly, Sho reluctantly gets up and brushes against the smelly Lestat. Lestat coughs in Sho's direction and "sits" Mr. Coolie in the cushioned seat. Sho attempts to brush the smell of Lestat’s breath away by waving his hand in the air.] DL:[Lovingly patting Mr. Coolie] There ya' go...nice and comfy... [Picking his nose, Lestat looks at the others...] DL:[Shrugging] Weellllll...where the f were you? AN: We were talking about destroying the Down Children and... DL:[Scratching his crotch] Who the f are they? [Sho leans in as though Lestat is deaf.] SS: The Down Children! [Lestat coughs in Sho’s face, who quickly whips his head back to get out of the way of flem that just flew from Lestat’s lips.] [Lestat looks down at Mr. Coolie and puts two hands on his "companion"] DL: [To Mr. Coolie] Do you know who the f The Down Boys are, Mr. Coolie? [Lestat slides the cooler back-and-forth on the chair in a "no" manner] DL: [shrugging] Me neither... AN: [with a shocked look and an eyeroll] It’s what we call the Down Boys. They’re nothing more than children, get it? DL: [Eyeing Ms. Miki and excitedly] Really?!?! YEAH!!! [Sho throws his hands in the air.] SS: Are you kidding me? [Lestat looks at Sho with a blank look.] DL: What? SS: [angered] Good grief! AN: Well, how about “Moxy” Blue, any thoughts? SS: I doubt it! [Lestat looks at Sho, puts one hand against his right nostril and blows. A huge snot ball flies in Sho’s direction. It looks as though it hit his boot. Sho stares downwards.] DL: Moxy? Moxy f Blue!? WHERE?!?! [Lestat looks around with dark widened eyes hopeful that Blue is in the room then realizes Blue is nowhere to be found]] DL: Damnit! Ya' got me excited there for a second! [While Lestat is talking Sho waves for a towel. Somebody off camera pitches him one. He leans down to clean his boot.] DL: [With another lobbing of mucus in the direction of Sho] I just f hate it when I get lathered up only to be disappointed! AN: Down Children, Moxy, your going down.... Sho: Chikushoo! [Sho slaps Lestat in the back of the head. In one fluid motion Lestat grabs Mr. Coolie and swings it and connects with Sho’s head. Sho falls backwards. Lestat leaps at Sho who catches him in mid-air throws him down in a modified bodyslam, but gets pulled down with Lestat, because he hangs onto Sho. They start throwing punches wildly. Agito runs over and tries to peel the combatants apart.] MM: [Looking at Larry] Well, that didn’t go as planned. LM: I don’t think anything that has to do with “The Demon” is going to go as planned. [Agito gets Sho and Lestat apart. He forces Sho to leave. Ms. Miki gets up and walks by Lestat very carefully as he picks up Mr. Coolie.] LM: [With a smirk] That should make the ratings people very happy. [Fade.] LM: Disgusting. TNT: Does having Miki and Lestat on at the same time cancel out any ratings effect? ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Christopher Stonebreaker vs. "Real Deal" Luke Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: Two of the rising stars of the IIWF go at it in this match... TNT: It seems like only yesterday that I was kicking Luke Steele's butt all over IIWF rings. I got the Cruiserweight Title and he had another hissy fit. It's sure a good thing that someone taught him a wrestling move so he can beat people like Stonebreaker. Just wait until he faces someone with some talent and he and his DDT will float right back into the loser's column where he belongs. LM: I'm sure Luke Steele has a different perspective on the whole incident. [Scene: An empty ring, in the middle of a darkened arena. Although it's tough to see anyone in the ring, we can hear them running back and forth across the ring, bouncing off the ropes. The camera zooms in closer until we make out who it is in the ring- The "Real Deal" Luke Steele. Steele is in his ring attire, and appears to be in the midst of a workout. Steele speaks with more intensity than we've ever heard from him.] LS: I'd normally start off with some pleasantries, but Stonebreaker, you're number one on my hitlist. It's your fault that the idiot called Meatman can now claim a win over me. Make no mistake about this, I'm going to make you regret that. There is absolutely no way that you can completely atone for what you did to me last weekend, because nobody knows just what a loss to that meat-pushing freak means to me. You asked me if I was still going to ignore you? I never purposely overlooked you, Stonebreaker, I just had other things on my mind. But now, you're the only one I've got in my sights. Believe me, Stonebreaker, when I'm done with you, you'll understand why they call me the real deal. [Fade.] TNT: No one calls him the Real Deal except himself. LM: Whether you like Luke Steele or hate him, he is sure making a splash in the IIWF right now! Let's get comments from his opponent, the "Ragin' Cajun" Christopher Stonebreaker! [The camera opens on the figure of Christopher Stonebreaker, who is seated once on the edge of a moderately high cliff overlooking what one can only assume is the Pacific Ocean. The cajun sits with his feet hanging over the edge, and at his side is his trademarked sledgehammer.] CS: Now, let's see if I have this right. First, Luke, I was an annoyance. That was the first label you gave me as I recall. Then I was a problem. Hell, that sort of label I can deal with. But then I'm a disappointment? Let's take a good look back at what happened at Snow Brawl, Steele. Oh, that's right. I'm sorry, I forgot all about your selective memory, didn't I? Let me give you a good reminder. While I was working my..... [Chris stops and composes himself for a second.] CS: Let's just say while I was putting up a fight, you decided that the pressure just got to be too much for you, so you gave out. And then... And then you have the gall to say that it was your teammates who lost the match that night? Can I remind you of two little words you used? They were, and I think we can call this a quote...."i quit". That's right. Those were your words, Steele, not mine. Not Deathbringer's. So where do you get off referring to myself as a disappointment? You see, I told you this wasn't a sport of excuses. You couldn't accept any responsibility, so you starting running off at the mouth. And then...well, then you made the mistake. You wanted any one man to step up in the ring with you that was in that match that night. Well, Saturday night, Steele, you get that one man. You not only get that one man, but you get _the_ man. The man who is going to prove to you that when you say something, you better back it up. Just ask Mr. Manning. He found out just last week, that when I said I was going to do something... well, I do it. And as for you Manning.... that's right, you did go down to the hands of the Cajun. Like it or not. I said that I would do whatever it took to beat you in the ring. If that meant a small package, if that meant knocking your block off into next week, whatever it took, it was going to get done. [Chris pulls himself up to his feet, and grabs the sledgehammer and places it up on his shoulder.] CS: But you..you had to go just a bit too far. You and your nice little toy. Well, guess what Manning, I have a toy right here. [Chris pats the handle of his sledgehammer before readjusting it] CS: Now you want to bring your playthings down to the ring and use them on me. Well, then I will be more than happy to return the favor. [Stonebreaker starts to turn away from the cliff edge, but stops, and turns back to face the scene once again.] CS: And you, Steele, Saturday night, you best be hoping that I do you a favor, and don't decide to end your career of whining. J'VAIS TE BRISER!!! [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Deathbringer vs. Tragedy ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: Here is a huge grudge match featuring Deathbringer and the man who stole his mask... TNT: Is Tragedy crazy? I mean, sure the dead guy isn't half the wrestler he used to be but he only has to hit the Harlequin once and it's nighty night time! Tragedy is in for the beating of his life! LM: Both competitors had comments for our camera crew. [SCENE: A dimly lit room. Deathbringer is sitting behind a wooden table upon which stands a candle, casting sinister looking shadows at the back wall. The 'Bringer's face, hidden by the cowl, isn't visible at all, not even his piercing red eyes can be seen. The Dark Destroyer finally notices the camera and begins to speak in his low, growling voice...] DB: What comes into your mind as you watch me here, sitting in this tiny room, hiding behind this candle, the flame of which is soon to be extinguished? What comes into your mind, as you look upon a former IIWF world heavyweight champion who seemingly lost his face to one Harlequin Tragedy? Let me tell you, what you are thinking right now. 'This man is finished... He is just a shadow of the past, not willing to accept his fate... That former champion no longer deserves to be in this league, this league where the greatest wrestlers of the world meet each other in the squared circle'... Those are your thoughts, are they not? And I cannot even blame you for losing your trust in me. How far have I come? Let myself be blindsided by a joke of a wrestler, a joke of a mortal... by a guy who says he is tragedy itself. As I think about the past few weeks, I recognize a change in my heart, something that has not been there before. Something that was never meant to be there. It is hard to describe what it is, and even if could find a definition for it, I doubt that you, mortals, would be able to understand it. Let me just say that as Tragedy stole the mask from, that mask which I have been wearing for all eternity, that mask that is far more than just a piece of cloth... [pauses] ... As all that happened, I lost more than my mask... I lost my pride... my invulnerability... my invicibility. You, Tragedy, did what no one ever did before. You pushed me one step further towards mortality... Yes, I am standing at the edge of an abyss right now. An abyss from where no one ever can return. An abyss that leads farther down into the earth than hell. [Deathbringer takes the candle looks at it and puts it back on the table, not without extinguishing the flame first. A mysterious red glow becomes visible which seems to emerge from somewhere behind Deathbringer making him look like the devil himself. After a short while he continues to speak with a more evil sounding voice] DB: But I am not willing to make this final step. I am not willing to let myself be defeated by that joke of a mortal who calls himself Tragedy. I am not willing to let my pride be taken away from me by someone who wants to use me as a steppingstone towards the wrestling heaven. I am no steppingstone... I am the whole, neverending stairway that leads to where you all want to go... that leads to where none of you will ever get as long as you do not respect me as what I am... The Dark Destroyer, the right hand of Death, the Reaper himself... [Deathbringer lowers his voice and the red glow disappears. Instead of that, the 'Bringer's piercing red eyes become visible now as he continues to speak] DB: Tomorrow night, Tragedy, history will be made. Tomorrow night, I will face you in the squared circle. And I am prepared for whatever might happen. Just take all of your friends to the ring tonight, just take that Harlequin chainsaw with you. I do not care about that. Tomorrow night, I will be there for one reason and one reason only... To make you pay for your deeds, Tragedy... And you will feel, that no one, _NO ONE_, messes with Death himself. Tomorrow night, Tragedy, might very well be your last day on earth. Enjoy the meantime... [Deathbringer stands up, raises his heads towards the ceiling and spreads his arms. The following sentence is emphasized by thunder and lightning, which enlightens the rooms for the blink of an eye] DB: Tragedy... PREPARE TO MEET YOUR MAKER! [Fade.] [Night. A full moon shines over the desolate wasteland of a graveyard. Worn and broken headstones ornament the land. In the center sits a mausoleum. Atop that building sit a few birds, and amongst them sits the familiar black-clad and steel-masked image of the leader of the Harlequins, Tragedy.] TRAGEDY: In your back yard, little man. [Tragedy leaps to the ground, sending the buzzards and crows scattering in a cloud of ebon.] TRAGEDY: Three times already I have proven that compared to the Harlequins, you are nothing. Every time we have faced off, in one way or another I have come out on top. [Tragedy removes his familiar steel mask to reveal that he is still wearing the black mask of Deathbringer underneath.] TRAGEDY: How else can you explain that I still have your mask? You outweigh me by over a hundred pounds. You stand a good foot taller than me. But you still haven't gotten your mask back. And to me, that makes you small. [Tragedy walks past a few headstones.] TRAGEDY: Saturday Night, I have to face you again. This is getting really boring now 'Bringer. I have proven all that I need to prove against you. But you're too stupid to realize it. If the dead man has a death wish, then far be it by me to stand in your way. TRAGEDY: But if you think that you're actually going to get your mask back... Send the midget, you'lll have better odds. [Fade out.] LM: Whoever wins, you know its going to be an all-out war! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Trash Talk |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... LM: We have comments from a number of IIWF Superstars but we are going to start off with a newcomer to our ranks...set to debut soon! [SCENE: Eddy Jacks sits on a worn-out bench in the SCRA locker room, slowly cleaning out his locker. His grizzled features bespeak ages of war in the rings of this and other promotions. Pausing to crack his mammoth neck, he turns to address the camera.] EJ: The IIWF. Biggest o' the big time. Always knew I'd be here one day. 'Course, I always thought I'd be undefeated...unstoppable. Always thought I'd be champion. [Jacks removes the tape from his fists, heaving it into a nearby trash can. He slides the straps of his singlet off his shoulders, heaving a massive sigh.] It ain't easy ta say this, but I ain't what I used ta be. I ain't some glory-hungry pug out there ta rule the world. Ya get hurt in the ring, hurt bad. Some o' them hurts, they don't never go away. An' you're left with nothin' but that hurtin' as ya sit lookin' at yerself in a mirror an' wonderin' what the hell happened. I been in some real wars. I been bloodied, battered, kicked in the groin...hell, I've even been burnt and stomped on. An' this is the big time? Hell no. It's just time, an' it runs together like everythin' else. [Jacks pulls a picture of him and three of his ex-managers out of his locker. He looks at it, sad and contemplative.] Everybody that helped me...hell, they're all gone. Ya don't even remember their names. [Jacks balls up the picture and heaves it into the trash can.] Yeah, ya don't remember their names. An' ain't that what life's about, makin' a name fer yerself? [Pause.] That's why I'm here, why I'm in the IIWF. 'Cuz I ain't done nothin' unless I done it all. 'Cuz I'm gonna show the best wrestlers in the world that I can more'n handle 'em. When it's all said and done, I'm gonna walk out respected. IIWF's my last ride. I been doin' this too long. I'm goin' out on my terms. An' when the hurtin' gets to be too much ta bear, I'll know I did it fer a reason. I'll know I did it 'cuz I'm somebody. I'll know I did somethin' ain't nobody else can claim they did. I might win some titles. I might fight a few more wars. An' when the shoutin' finally dies down.... [Jacks slams the door to his locker shut.] ...everybody's gonna know who I was. [Fade.] [SCENE: Marty Warnett is sat in a gym locker-room, after an obviously strenuous workout. He is sweating profusely and towelling his face as Tim Dross appears, microphone in hand.] TD: Marty, can we talk? MW: Heck, yes, Dross, I mean, you move your mouth and the air moving over the teeth and throat produces sound, doesn't it? TD: Errrr... I failed Physics. Let's talk wrestling. MW: Well, Tim, that is what I do, y'know. Okay, shoot. TD: We've seen an emotional return by Billy Shakespeare, what are your views? MW: Tim, all I can say is... Billy has guts and cajones. To want to get out there, and get revenge on Williams shows his desire and bravery. I don't think he can do it, given the state of that eye -- let's face it, Williams will go all out to re-injure it, hell, make it permanently worse. TD: What will you do? MW: Nothing I can either do, or want to do -- this is something Billy wants to do; it's his fight after all. All I can do is to watch out from behind the scenes, and if it all goes wrong, get out there with the JJS to stop anything bad from happening. TD: And, of course, Rick Williams had strong words for you. MW: Dross, look at all the trash talkers that have entered the IIWF. The Universal Powers, Reed et all have come in and run out just as quick... one-line witticisms quit, talent remains. I hope Billy humbles him on Saturday night. TD: Williams isn't the only person here taking an interest in you: Ms. Miki. MW: [laughs] # Oh Miki / You're so fine / You're so fine / You blow my mind # Dross, that kinda attention is most appreciated. TD: I think she may want an alliance... MW: Sheesh, Tim, just be glad I ain't Soundbite, because back there wherever you're from, it must be innuendo week or something... joining her merry band of men doesn't sound too unappealing, to be honest. I could certainly raise my status through an alliance, and despite Osterhout's "Wrestle Clean!" campaign -- and incidentally, Greggy-babes, if Ike is such a great IIWF role-model, how come he keeps leaving to go to the drying out clinic? -- well, you need people looking after your back. TD: And of course, Simon O'Neal seems to want you. MW: [Laughs again.] Oh boy, Dross, can you imagine Soundbite for that one? "Gay guys in tag, now gay guys wrestling each other. Best weekend of my life...". Incidentally, Soundbite, once your IIWF contract is up, are you going to one of those "Bush" leagues? The "Loop"? Whoa, you really limited your career options with your mouth, didn't ya? Still, you could always call the bouts for your long, lost, one-eyed, red-gloved son. And I ain't talking about Petrow... Simon, am I a pretty-boy? Hell, I won't go against the flow of the thoughts of a multitude of women. No, sirree. Having just gone through two relationship breakups over the last couple of months where I'd fallen heavily, hell, I ain't gonna mock ya. But... You must be REALLY stupid to call me a Cruiserweight. I'm over the limit, and always will be. Sheesh. No wonder you needed somebody else to tell you what to do. Imagine a bout between us? I'd have to keep calling your moves for you... Anyway, Dross, I'll have to kick you out -- I need a shower... [Fade.] [We're backstage after the Down Boys/American Dragons match, right behind the entrance curtain. Bob Ivey and Joe Scalercio are holding bags of ice to their heads, while Adam Peterson is helping Dan Oliver limp away] BI: Hey, Boys! [Oliver and Peterson turn] BI: We didn't want it to end this way. I hope you're ok, Dan. [Dan nods in return, and the Down Boys walk away. Joe turns to the camera, eyes filled with rage] JS: Anyone actually pay attention to the Fabulous Ones this week? Anyone? Obviously, the AbFabs themselves didn't. Remember Musings? Well, those two said we had no honor. Us? No honor? What the hell do you know about honor? Ok, you toss Paul Wong out...you may be thinking in your little fantasy world that you were justified in that. Well, if you had HONOR, you'd have booted him clean. No beat downs, no nothing, just say "We think you're not cut out." And what just happened out there? We're in the middle of quite possibly the best tag team WRESTLING match this side of a Rising Sun Revolution match...and you come out and attack us. Not only that, you jump the Down Boys as well. The fact you came out and did this...you don't even have enough guts to face us man to man, AbFabs. You know what this makes you two? A poor ass version of LFD. Yeah, two guys who got jump anyone...but when they got their butts in the ring...choke city! Guess what? Where I come from, revenge is served hot from the oven. This Saturday, Fabulous Ones...get ready for revenge, Dragon style. [A page comes in with the leather jackets of the Dragons, and Bob accepts his with a smile and a thank you. He hands Joe the black one and dons the white one. He takes the ice away from his eye] BI: Ones, you're at the top of our hit list. And believe me, since we ain't flashes in the pan, we plan on taking you two partners out faster then a rattlesnake. And now, we've got a mystery team coming in here, all jazzed up and waiting for us on the 28th. Yeah, me and Joe here don't back down from ANYONE! Chummers, RSR, the Armed Forces, the Lethal Leaders, or the Syndicate could walk in here and say "Give us the Dragons", and we'd take them on without a second thought. Why? Cause we're men. We stand up and look our foes right in the eye before giving them the best possible match we can put on. "Any team, any time" ain't just a catch phrase. It ain't a ripoff of Creed...yeah, I'll say his name...and it ain't an empty boast. This is the best fed around, boys and girls. And you're looking at the team that'll be the best in the business. All we need is the competion. Don't expect a cakewalk come the 28th. We'll put up a fight that this fed's never seen...and we'll do it CLEAN, everyone. [Joe and Bob turn around, showing the dragon logos to the camera] BOTH: Any team, any time... [Fade out on the American Dragons] [The camera starts up in a dark room. The lights are too dim to make out any characteristics, but forms can be seen, and you see a large man sitting in a chair, near an endtable. When he speaks to the cameraman, you can tell the voice belongs to Paul Wong.] PW: Don't turn on the lights. I know, I know you can't tape much in this lighting. But I want it this way. Just... hear me out. I keep hearing all the announcer's make jokes about me being gay. I almost wish I were gay. Then I wouldn't have fallen in love with Miki, and none of this would have ever happened. Miki... I fell for her so hard. She was... is, I guess... so beautiful, and smart, and sexy, and... [Sighs] When she first approached me, I thought it was a joke. Why would she be interested in me? But she was... or, at least I thought she was. She offered me a position in the Daimyo, told me that we could work together... as a couple. O'Neal and I were having problems as a team, and Miki kept telling me it was all his fault, that I could be a winner by myself. And I bought it. Hook, Line, and Sinker. Next thing you know, it's Snow Brawl, and I'm leaving my partner and friend to the wolves. I guess that was their plan all along... divide and conquer. Turn me against Simon, and then jump me when I was no longer needed. {Shakes his head] God, I was stupid. I really thought she loved me. I deserve each and every shot they gave me. I got in bed with the devil, and I got burned... badly. And now... now, I don't know what. I don't to wrestle solo. I'm a tag team wrestler, and a good one. But my old partner doesn't trust me, and I can't blame him. Would you trust me? You saw what happened Wednesday. I didn't care... not about the match, not about the loss, not about the attack on me afterwards. Hell, I still deserve it. I just... don't care anymore. [He pauses, not speaking for a moment.] I guess that's all I've got to say. Thanks for listening. [The camera fades out.] [The following is a transcript downloaded from the Bodyslammin' Gallery in the IIWF area of America On-Net.] Moderator: Hello, and welcome to IIWF Arena. Shortly we will be joined by the newest superstar to sign with the IIWF, Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines. Moderator: Gunnar is the three-time EWA World Champion and one-time EWA Extremist Champion. He was also world champion one time in the PCW, Portland's now-defunct other promotion. After retiring the EWA title early this year, he signed with the IIWF. Moderator: Gunnar is a third-generation professional wrestler, the son of Larry "Chainsaw" Gaines and grandson of Ebeneezer "Geezer" Gaines. He grew up in Alaska and on the roads of Oregon and Washington, traveling with his father from card to card in the summertime. So, a return to Portland is a sort of homecoming for him. Moderator: Before we begin, some ground rules. You have to hit the "send" button to ask a question, or else Gunnar won't see it. And if he doesn't see it, he sure as heck won't answer it, which is probably just as well if you're not smart enough to figure this all out. Got it? Good. Moderator: And now ... here he is ... Gunnar "The Grizzly" Gaines!! *** IIWFGunnar has entered the IIWF Arena. *** IIWFGunnar: Hey, kids! DumSchmidt: Gunnar ... I heard a rumor that you're going to sign with the IIWF. True? I wanna put this up on my web bulletin board. I'm gonna SCOOP all the rest! IIWFGunnar: I'm not going to the IIWF. I just have "IIWF" in my nick in order to try and fool the smarts like yourself. That's also why I'm in the IIWF Arena here on AON. BuzzBrain: Gunnar ... do you really drink wood grain alcohol? And where can I get some? IIWFGunnar: I do drink it. My recipe is a bit too strong for you I'm sure, but here's a recipe so you can make a virgin version of it for yourself. Take a gallon of turpentine, dissolve in a jar of rubber cement, urinate in it for five seconds, and add just a touch of Wizard brand charcoal starter fluid. If it gets too thick you can blow the foam off with a fart. Enjoy! FuryGod: Hahaha! Fury fooled you last week! He hit you with a chair! He took advantage of your vanity! "Gunnar is God" indeed! Hahahaha! IIWFGunnar: I learned my lesson ... I hope Mr. Kowalski learned his. Namely, that a chair is not going to do it if he wants to take out the Baddest Thang Running. But son, a roll of quarters seems to work fine for anyone who wants to knock out the Fury. LoopMark: Gunnar ... why on earth did you sign with the IIWF? They're going to job your ass to oblivion. You should have signed with the MLWO. IIWFGunnar: That's a good question, Mark Cutter ... the answer is that Mr. Spreadbury had more money, and he also offers competition that honestly takes a back seat to no one. And besides ... I'd already obliterated the EWA when it closed. Why would I bother with "EWA Lite?" LoopMark: That's it, Gunnar ... you're jobbing to Spreadbury in the enewf, my fantasy league. IIWFGunnar: I don't care about your damn fantasy leagues, Cutter. I care about real life in the Double Eye. RoseCity: Gunnz ... you grew up, essentially, with PCW and Portland Wrestling. Does it feel like you've joined the dark side of the force by signing with the fed that ran PCW out of business? IIWFGunnar: Owen McDonald is enjoying his retirement and doesn't, for a minute, begrudge the millions I'm making from Spreadbury. Spreadbury, for his part, loves having the biggest draw in Portland finally signed to his federation. It works out for everyone. There are no hard feelings. CRSVictim: Gunnar, you've come in with big talk about the Loop being better than the Double Eye and so on ... how can you back it up by yourself? IIWFGunnar: Son ... you've mistaken me for Super Scott or Mr. Robinson. I'm not here to represent some damn league. I'm here to represent myself, my family, my heritage ... and Grizzly's Law. Can I back that up by myself? Watch me. SheetScribe: Gunnar, your most respected fellow wrestlers are ... ? IIWFGunnar: "Offensive" Alex Adams, Caleb Temple, Requiem, the late Drac "Raven" Dravin, Jerry Joblonsky, and my brother George Gaines. I also begrudgingly respect Brody Thunder and Steve Kowalski for fighting ability. SheetScribe: Most overrated, in your opinion ...? IIWFGunnar: "Dreamlover" Trey Porter. Period. Canuckster: Gunnar, I can't wait to see you at the Skydome in the Day One main event of IIeW, against Casey James and Requiem. IIWFGunnar: Yeah. Neither can anyone else. I promise to put on a show you won't believe, even though neither of my opponents has the guts to drink even a single shot of wood grain alcohol. DblEyeMark: Gunnar ... how did you get the name "Grizzly"? And what makes you so great? Since you didn't go to Spreadbury's wrestling school, you must suck. IIWFGunnar: Grizzly is a nickname I picked up in the independents. Tim Dross alluded to it the other night, albeit unwittingly. I was 16 and took a chair shot to the head. I gave off blood like Old Faithful gives off steam and water, but I didn't care. They called me "Grisly" but soon it was changed to "Grizzly" after people saw what I did to the guy who gave me the chairshot. IIWFGunnar: A superficial resemblance to the TV character Grizzly Adams also had something to do with it, I guess. Leslie1269: Gunnar, you're a horrible role model. You drink ... you swear ... you attack people for no reason at all ... you take pro wrestling to a whole new level of violent ... you attack people smaller than you are ... IIWFGunnar: Those are all good points, "lady." Please explain why I'm a bad role model. Leslie1269: You don't sign autographs after the cards ... IIWFGunnar: What? Didn't you get the one I signed for you? It said, "Hey bitch. Get bent. Signed, Gunnar Gaines." I assumed everyone there would know who to hand it to. MakeMyDay: Gunnar ... why don't you slur lots of your words, like the other guys who wanna try to sound tough? IIWFGunnar: Th' reason I don't do that is I done studied this heah English language, shucky darn it, and I actually know how to use it, dolgurn it. H-yuck. IIWFGunnar: I cannot explain why Brody Thunder, Steve Kowalski and certain others have progressed so far in an interview-oriented business such as this, with the obvious speech impediments that they have. I salute them for overcoming their handicaps. GossipGal: Gunnar, when is your wife Cheryl expecting her baby? IIWFGunnar: The baby is due in April and Cheryl is eating like I do, with the exception of the grain of course. It's going to be a boy. We haven't picked out a name yet, but you can rule out wimpy names like "Trace," "Casey," "William," "Lance," and so on. "Gunnar" has a nice ring to it. IIWFGunnar: Kids ... I have to wrap it up here. Plane flight to catch. But I'll have more to say on Saturday night at the next IIWF card. One more question. Spoiler: Gunnar ... will you ever be the IIWF world heavyweight champion? IIWFGunnar: Good question. Hell yeah, I want to try for it. People think I've proven enough already by being number one in the world ONE year ago, not two, Steve Roberts are you reading this? They say that four world titles is enough. But I'm loving the thrill of discovering and conquering new territory in the Double Eye. IIWFGunnar: The ultimate goal is the world title, and I'll be damned if I don't wind up with it by the end of this calendar year. All I need is my shot, and when Spreads has the seeds to give me that shot ... I'll make the most as I always do. IIWFGunnar: I do have the credentials to get that shot now, but the league can't have it look like someone can just come in and win that belt. So, I'm expecting to wait a while for the sake of the league's image. Fine. Pay me now or pay me later. Either way, it's gonna be a damn steep price. IIWFGunnar: We'll do this again. See all you snots later. *** IIWFGunnar has left the IIWF Arena. **** [Cut to the next clip. It's the offices of the IIWF. A middle-aged secretary sits behind her desk, talking animatedly on the phone. Sitting in a chair, looking impatiently at his watch, is Simon O'Neal. Finally, the secretary hangs up the phone.] Secretary: Thank you for your patience. Now, you... [The phone rings again.] Hold on one minute. [Picks up the phone] President Spreadbury's office. How may I help you? [She begins another conversation, and leans back in the chair. O'Neal rolls his eyes, walks over to the wall, and pulls the phone cord out of the jack in the wall.] Secretary: I... Hey! You can't do... SO: I just did. Now, answer this quick question, and I'll disappear. Is Spreadbury in the office? [She looks over to the closed door marked IIWF PRESIDENT, then shakes her head.] SO: VP Osterhout? Jividen? Owens? Vinnie the Janitor? [She shakes her head at each one.] Perhaps you should leave a message, and I'll make sure he gets it. [Simon O'Neal walks over to the desk and grabs a sheet of paper and a green marker.] Oh, he'll get a message, all right. [O'Neal writes "GET ME A MATCH- SIMON O'NEAL" in very large print on the paper] It's been a month since I've asked for competition, and all they've given me is the Masked Terror. I need some actual competition, and all I'm getting is screwed over. Maybe now he'll get me a match with Turner... or Tragedy... or Mota... or even "Moxy" Blue, for Christ's sakes! [He walks over to his duffel bag, and pulls out a nail and a large hammer. He walks over to Spreadbury's door, and nails the paper onto the door, right at eye level.] There. He should definitely see THAT message. [The secretary looks at O'Neal with a combination of shock and laughter at the sign on the door.] Secretary: Maybe you should find a partner. I heard President Spreadbury saying that he was looking for tag teams. [O'Neal shakes his head in disgust.] SO: Tag teams. Not again. [He puts the hammer away, grabs the duffel bag, and heads out.] Make sure Danny-Boy's got the message. Later. [Fade] LM: That's about all the time we have for this week. Don't forget to tune in tomorrow night for the best two hours of wrestling action on television! I would like to thank "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner for subbing in at the last minute after the brutal attack on his... TNT: Don't say it. LM: Friend... Duncan Macbeth by Simon Lebec. TNT: I just have two words for Lebec... flee now. LM: And join me next week when my co-host will be none other than Awesome T, the manager of the Down Boys! Good night everybody! [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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+