C + O + U + N + T + D + O + W + N T + O ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/..............\........|...|.......|....| with Larry Morton 6 March 1998 [The shot opens on the usual Countdown set with Larry Morton sitting in a comfortable chair across a low table from another chair which sits empty. Larry looks a little nervous as he shoots glances over his shoulder every couple of seconds.] LM: Hello everybody and welcome to another edition of Countdown to IIWF Saturday Night! We are coming off a great week for the IIWF as we get ever closer to Ring Wars V! I'm Larry Morton and I'll be your host for the next hour, to be joined shortly by the reigning IIWF Intercontinental Champion, Duncan Macbeth! First though, let's look at all the action from this past Wednesday on the War Room! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| REWIND: IIWF Wednesday War Room - 4 March 1998 |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... Andrew Macbeth d. Scott "the Whine" Bloom The Machines d. the Barnacle Brothers The Night Patrol d. the Rotundos Richard "Moxy" Blue d. El Super Gecko "The Demon" Damien Lestat d. Battalion The Prophets of Rage d. the Harlequins Charles Scheffield d. "Real Deal" Luke Steele by count-out "To Excess" Rick Williams d. "Intrepid" Ryan Howard LM: Some great action came your way on Wednesday, starting with the IIWF wrestling debut of Andrew Macbeth and ending with Rick Williams dominating Ryan Howard. Along the way Luke Steele lost a little momentum going into tomorrow night's contest with the Intercontinental Chapion, and my co-host tonight, Duncan Macbeth! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| PREVIEW: IIWF Saturday Night - 7 March 1998 |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... [The camera zooms out as Intercontinental Champion Duncan Macbeth, clad in jeans, cowboy boots, and a Glasgow Rangers football jersey, walks into the shot and takes a seat next to Morton. Macbeth does not seem happy to be there, and he does not even so much as look in Morton's direction as the host looks expectantly to the Scot for long moments for a cue to start.] LM: Um, welcome, Duncan. It's nice to finally have you on the show, after the events of the last two weeks. DM: Get stuffed, Morton. I've got enough on me plate this week as it is, without havin' t' waste me time flappin' me jaws on this bleedin' program wi' th' likes o' ye. I cannae believe tha' Spreadbury actually held tha' TV contract o'er me head t' get me on 'ere. LM: Well, if you're worried about Simon Lebec, we've got tight security around the studio this week, so I assure you, you'll be safe. [Macbeth raises a eyebrow at this, and shoots Morton one of his trademark jade glares, and Morton seems to shrink several inches under the Scot's withering gaze.] DM: Another crack like tha', smartarse, an' YE'LL be th' one needin' security. Got it? LM: Ulp... loud and clear, champ. Well, let's get to our first matchup, shall we? ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF World Heavyweight Championship Match: Steve "the Fury" Kowalski vs. "Epitome of Evil" Serge Annis ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: IIWF fans have a lot to look forward to tomorrow night as we will witness a match to decide the IIWF Heavyweight Championship of the World! DM: Two o' th' toughest bastards in th' Double Eye goin' toe t' toe here, an' I should ken, 'cause I've tussled wi' both o' them. LM: Steve Kowalski has had a remarkable run as IIWF Heavyweight Champion, but he will be hard pressed to hold off the surging Serge Annis. DM: Indeed, Annis' biggest strength is 'is focus in th' ring. This bloke does no' miss a trick in there, an' e's as fearless as 'e is tough. One o' th' hardest workin' men in th' IIWF, t' be sure. But tough as 'e is, I have t' give th' nod t' Kowalski t' take this one. Annis is certainly capable of winnin' th' belt, but take one look at th' Fury, an' ye can tell 'e's jus' in tha' zone righ' now. Ye jus' ken tha' Steve Kowalski's goin' t' pull this one out. LM: You have to wonder just how long Steve Kowalski will be able to sustain his fortunes in defending the World Title? DM: [smiling] 'Till he puts th' belt up against me, Morton. He'll be out o' luck then, wha'. LM: Serge Annis had these words for our camera crew. [The screen fades in from black, to a desolate campsite, surronded by pine and maple trees. It is night time, and the moon and stars are bright up in the sky. There is a few centimeters of snow covering the ground and the trees. A black Jimmy jeep is seen parked off in the distance. A fire is going, and a fairly big one at that. Roasting in the fire is the carcass of a small pig, obviously being barbaqued. A picnic table is sitting next to the fire, and on it sits the IIWF's Epitome of Evil, Serge Annis. Annis has on a black leather jacket, and as always, black jeans and boots. Serge's breath flies about the cool crisp air. Serge looks up to the camera, but does not change his 'stone cold' stare to the world.] SA: Before I touch up on anything, I'd like to address one Dave Bacon. Dave, you think I am in collusion with McGill simply because we both came from UWF? That's pure B-S if I ever heard it. I hate everybody. You may as well suggest that I'll be those Fabulous Ones' new partner because they are from UWF as well. But Bacon... before you go off with comments about "those UWF'ers", why don't you take a look at your past, and remember your roots? Don't want anyone to know? Then I'll be glad to tell them... by the way... [Annis picks up a stick and nudges the cooking piece of pork.] SA: I hope you picked up on the symbolism. Anyway, Bacon, you came to the IIWF from the ACWF... Dave Bacon ain't even your name, Mr. David Brennan. ACWF was supported by UWF as their daughter league. So next time before you go trashing things just for the sake of a reaction, why don't you remember your roots Mr. Brennan, because sure enough... someone else will do it for you. And someone else, will see you get burned. [Annis pushes the pig hard with the stick, causing the pig to fall off the stand, and fall into the fire.] SA: Note the symbolism. I could come out and talk about what I did to Nick McGill... but I don't think secluding myself away in the woods is because of the grief I have for his family. No. I am out here to focus and concentrate on one man, and one man only. Steve "The Fury" Kowalski. Kowalski, do you remember the series of matches we had in December? You could never beat me. You tried and tried, but you just couldn't do it. Does anyone even remember who you pinned for the World title? It wasn't Brody Thunder, it was Serge Annis. I made sure of getting Thunder out of there. And then enter Mad Dog Watkins, costing me the greatest prize in the world of wrestling, the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship. The one last jewel I need to add to my crown, the one thing that I want more than anything else in this world. Steve Kowalski, you walked away with my belt. And never said boo about it. Well, Saturday you're going to look into the eyes of madness. I'm not in a good mood. I want some violence. I want your neck to be snapped. And it's gonna happen. You can forget the Charles Scheffields and the Mad Dog Watkins. This is Serge Annis and Steve Kowalski, two of the toughest men to ever compete in the IIWF. I'm putting all of the bullcrap behind me for just one night. When I pound your face in, I won't be seeing Mad Dog Watkins, or Chuckie Scheffield... I see Steve Kowalski. The IIWF World Heavyweight Champion. And that makes you public enemy, number one. Kowalski, after I'm done with you, you're gonna wish you'd had a napalm enema. Because with what I have in store for you, the napalm enema would be a whole Hell lot less painful. [Annis looks around, then back to the camera.] SA: Operation Wrestle Clean? You can fine me all you want. I've never been in it for the money. It won't stop me. Nothing will stop me until I get what I want... the world heavyweight championship. And then the true reign of terror will begin. I've had a claim to that belt for three monthes... now it's time to take it. Sometimes... I wonder. Just why the IIWF hates me so? I've endured everything they've ever thrown at me. Deathbringer... Kauffman... Creed... Kowalski. I have endured every indignity, and passed each trial they have set before me. [Annis gets a questioning look on his face.] So why am I any different than the rest of them? Why do they make me the outcast? I'm not a political kind of guy. I don't kiss up to no one. I don't tell the suits backstage what to do, unless they get in my face... I figured it out though... It's because they fear me. Dave Brennan was a little mixed when he reported on fear... They fear me because they are weak wheras I am strong... They hate me because they are foolish and I am the master of mind games... Patience is a hunter's tool... and his sharpest weapon. I've waited fifteen damn monthes for this... but my time has come. And when I'm done with everything, and the dust clears and the carnage can be counted, Serge Annis shall be sitting atop the IIWF on his throne on bones, and you'll just have to ask yourself... Who's the damn man now? [Annis grins an evil grin as the camera fades up to the moonlight sky, and a small flake of snow slowly falls, and lands atop the camera's lense. Fade to black.] LM: We also got the following comments from the man under fire, the IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, Steve "the Fury" Kowalski: [The screen is pitch black. Absolute darkness. Quietly broken by his voice.] SK: I know ya wanna be me, Anus, but who can blame ya...everybody does. As much as ya act tuff an' talk trash, ya still curse yerself at the end of the night. What does the Fury has that I don't? I can't tell ya, but it must be somethin' friggan great! 'Cause everybody an' their muther has been after me.... [A short pause.] ...an' they still can't collect the bounty. Nobody can. I'm one o' those rotten [BLEEP]s that don't stay down, that don't know when to call it quits, that's a helluva lot tuffer than ya! Oh yeah, I said it. Serge ya got a way o' sayin' how I ain't never beat ya...sure 'nuff. But it obvious, ya still haven't learned. I ain't gotta beat ya..._Ya_ have to beat me! That's what it means to become champ. Ya gotta go farther then yer body can go. As much as ya like to think it, ya ain't there yet. Ya can only live off Creed's last match fer so long. [Sighs and after a few seconds...] After Saturday night, I don't wanna hear any more [BLEEP]. No more excuses. This is your chance, take it. It's now or never. I've been beat from pillar to post. Got the scars to prove it. This is my life, it's all I got. I go out an' sacrifice myself every time I get in the ring. I'm the oldest young man I know. The mileage I got on this carcass, is _way_ too far. But not askin' fer pity. I'm askin' ya to give it yer best! [A dim light catches a glimpse of a bleeding hand, clutching tightly to the IIWF Heavyweight belt.] An' where ya wake up... Get the [BLEEP] outta my ring. I got more men to beat. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines vs. Jimmy "The Meatman" Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: This match features two fairly new wrestlers who have made quite a splash since joining the IIWF! DM: Th' Meatman's righ' pissed at Gaines fer spoilin' 'is title match against Kowalski a few weeks ago, Morton. Gaines is a big-talkin' tosser from some backwater one-horse federation, who apparently used t' be someone about a hundred years ago, an' thinks e's jus' goin' t' walk in t' th' Double Eye an' everyone's jus' goin' t' lie down fer 'im. Unfortunately, much as I like th' Meatman, I jus' don't think 'e has th' repertoire t' go up against th' Grizzly. Th' Meatman's got a lot o' heart, though, an' if anyone could take this match on pure emotion, Jimmy Steele could. LM: There is no question that both of these competitors will give this match their all! Both wrestlers had comments this week. [SCENE: Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines is standing on the Sydney, Australia waterfront. He is wearing dark sunglasses, a grey hooded sweatshirt, and a black and blue windbreaker and matching nylon sweat pants.] GGG: Jimmy Dean... you said something last week that didn't make a hell of a lot of sense to me. [He smiles, scratching his beard.] You made some self-righteous claim that _some_ people, namely yourself, BUILD things in pro wrestling, and that _some_ people, namely people like The Baddest Thang Running, tear things down. What a self-serving, moronic pile of crap. First of all, Jimmy Dean, If you don't think I've built things, then you don't know me too well. I've built a hell of a lot more than you have. What you've built is an _outhouse_ compared to the mansion that I've constructed. Now, I don't like to brag about my wonderful accomplishments of the past because it sends the idiots here in the Double Eye into a God damn tizzy fit. However, I _do_ just happen to be a four-time world champ. I _did_ dominate the last federation I was in for the last six months. I _was_ the head of the most powerful family in wrestling. I was ranked number one, _one_ year ago. [He stops. He scratches his beard, smiles, and laughs.] So, yeah, Jimmy Dean ... sausage boy ... I _do_ know a little something about building. And in pro wrestling, building something is what your economics professor might call a "zero sum" game. Know what that means, boy? I didn't think so. It means that when you win, someone else loses. In other words, you've gotta rip something else apart in order to build something of your own. You've gotta learn that. That's why I was so nauseated by your self-righteous prattle, dead meat. There _are_ no "win-win" situations, you little fart stain, so just wake up from fantasy land. You ain't no hero. And this Saturday, at the opera house, I'd advise you not to try to be one, because the Baddest Thang Running is going to be running right after you. He's going to get right in your face. He's going to breathe down your neck. He's going to put his hands, and anything he can get his hands ON, on _you_. And he's going to tear you about six new corn chutes. All because I wanna build something _here_ in the Double Eye -- and you're just a big BRICK. [pause] Yeah, [smiling] I _did_ say "brick." Although -- you're _also_ the word that rhymes with it, son. [Grizzly Grin] Anyway, I'm going to maul you like ANY bear would maul a slab of meat. I'm going to treat you like the shrimp you are -- a shrimp on the barbie, as it were. And when I do, you're going to say [fake fear voice] "Oh my! Oh sh! What have I done? I'm in the ring with Gunnar 'The Grizzly' Gaines!" Then you'll be shing enough bricks to build yourself another shhouse to go with the one you already got! [Gunnar laughs] You don't think so, meat beater? There's only one thing you've gotta do, and ain't _no one_ in the Double Eye done it yet. [thumb to himself] BEAT ME -- IF YOU CAN! [fade] [Caption: I.I.W.F Exclusive] Tim Dross: Ladies and Gentlemen, we bring you now previously untelevised footage of the verdict, as it happened, in the U.S meat industry vs. Oprah Winfrey libel suit which concluded a few short days ago. [Cluttered courtroom. Ms. Winfrey sits at the defense table surrounded by lawyers. The jury foreman approaches the stand.] Judge: “Mr. Foreman, you may read the verdict.” Foreman: “In the charge of libel and slander levelled against Ms. Winfrey by the United States meat industry, we find the defendant- not guilty on all counts.” [Shouts of glee erupt, Oprah supporters are ecstatic. The judge calls for order. Suddenly, there is an outburst. Bodies begin to fly from the galley as a large figure tosses them from his path. The 6'4, 274 lb. Individual wears a blood spattered butcher’s apron and swings a dressed pig like a baseball bat. It is Jimmy "The Meatman" Steele.] Meatman: “You f****** bitch, I’ll kill you! I’ll f****** kill you, you fat f****** bitch! I WILL KILLLL YOOOOOU!” [Women over the age of 40 are batted over the railing as the Meatman carves his way towards Ms. Winfrey. The bailiff draws his sidearm, points it at Jim Steele and fires. The Meatman falls.] Tim Dross: Fans, Jim Steele is all right. The roast pig which he wielded took the full force of the bullet. The impact of the porcine skull is what dropped “The Meat” in his tracks. As an added note, for all of you “cutlets” out there; Mr. Steele is free on bail, albeit under a restraining order, and will be allowed to wrestle this Saturday night against Gunnar Gaines. Now, back to our studios. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "TEAM SYCHOSYS FUNKY LIKE A MONKEY WORLD TOUR '98" DOUBLE BULLROPE MATCH: Team Sychosys vs. the Machines ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: Joe Petrow and Maurice McArthur continue their assault on the tag team division of the IIWF with this stop in Sydney against the Machines. DM: Th' Machines have a whole new attitude. Paul Wong seems t' have finally smartened up, an' toughened up 'is game, an' th' Machines are a far better team t'day because o' tha'. I love Simon O'Neal, an' tha' crazy Irish temper o' his -- there's a man who kens when t' break th' rules, an' when t' break 'em. Watch this team t' make some big moves in th' IIWF. LM: They'll be in tough against Joe Petrow and Team Sychosys tomorrow night, though. DM: Aye, they're "funky like a monkey", but body odour alone won't win ye a match -- unless ye're Ryan Howard, o'course. Joe's made th' biggest mistake o' 'is career, droppin' out o' singles t' team wi' McArthur. Th' boys jus' no damn good, an' I think Petrow's jus' beginnin' t' realise tha'. Tha's why 'e's got t' stir th' pot wi' Musashi, t' keep 'is name in people's minds. 'Cause th' longer 'e sticks wi' McArthur, th' sooner 'e'll be forgotton. LM: I take it you're picking the Machines to win this one. DM: No question. Joe's guid, but not guid enough t' beat th' Machines in wha' amounts t' a handicap match. Unless 'e uses McArthur as a foreign object. LM: Which is something that Joe Petrow is not adverse to doing on occasion... like last week versus the Fabulous Ones! Both Team Sychosys and the Machines had something to say for Countdown this week. ["Sychosys" Joe Petrow and "Mr. Majestyk" Maurice McArthur are... somewhere... deep in what is known in these parts as "The Outback." They wade across a shallow river with knives in their mouths, both dressed like something straight out of Crocodile Dundee. After they cross, Petrow takes the knife out of his mouth and speaks:] JP: Y'know mates, before you goes into a big match, ya gots to get in your element. And for a match as brutal as the upcoming double bullrope match with the Machines, ain't no better place to be than under the brutal summer Outback sun! Tell 'em Mac! 4M: MMMSHNNNS! [McArthur finally takes the knife out of his mouth] MASHEEENS! This ain't abouts tomorrow! This ain't abouts yestaday! This is rite heeea, rite nowww, ya know what aim sayin' daddy? DUBBA BOOROPE styl if ya wheel! This ain't gonna be oh so prettay boys, we's getting down and dirty in the mud! Just the son of a common man, fighting the common fight! And da bass in da brogerman done go jin bop the wussy un dun say that weobi FUNKY LIKE A MONKEY upside yo heads all night long! JP: Two rope cuts both ways. Two ropes doubly so. See, we ain't out for victory. We don't even care much about the respect from you guys. All we looking to do [Petrow brandishes his knife for the camera, upon which McArthur quickly follows suit] is let loose the ghost in the machine! [Both men walk out of the shot, as we fade out.] "Seventeen.... Eighteen... Nineteen... Twenty... Twenty-one..." [The camera fades in to seeing a weight bar from below the screen to above it, and back down again. The camera pans back, and the bar has over three hundred pounds of weight on the bar. The camera fades back further, and you see Paul Wong lying on a weight bench, lifting the heavy weights off of his chest and back down. By then bench is Binky the Chainsaw. Simon O'Neal sits in a chair off to one side, drinking a soda and reading the book "Rules: What rules? The Steve "Soundbite" Roberts Guide to Wrestling".] SO: [under his breath] He'd better not slip up. It's not like I can lift that damn thing. [Then, louder, to the camera] We've got a big match coming up this Saturday. Our first real tag team match since teaming together again. A double-bullrope match against Team Sychosys. [Simon shakes his head] You know, I'm a pretty low guy. I can be as unethical as the best of them. But Team Sychosys takes it to a new level. I mean, jumping a successful team is one thing. But jumping a wrestler who's on the worst losing streak of his life... when he's obviously going through a career crisis... for no reason whatsoever? That's low. That's worse than me... and I've got three ex-wives who will spend hours telling you what a rotten SOB I am. I can only think of one reason why you jumped Paul a few weeks ago. You were looking for an easy target, and decided that Paul would be perfect. And you were right. Paul was an easy target... back then. But now... [shakes his head] Take a look. [He points to the weight bench, where Paul is adding more weights to the bench.] Hey, Paul! How much is that... 360 pounds? PW: [Looking at the camera] 380... plus the bar, that makes it over 400. SO: Thanks. [back to the camera] Four hundred plus pounds. Paul's always had the ability to rip someone's head off... and now, thanks in part to you two, he has the desire. Makes me glad to be his partner. Makes me sorry for both of you. [He pauses.] Well.. No, not really. [The camera pans over, where Paul Wong, decked out in a red tank top soaked with sweat, stands in front of the weight bench.] SO: I thought you were still lifting. PW: I'm taking a ten minute break to give an interview. If you ever actually worked out, you'd know the importance of taking breaks. [Simon shrugs and goes back to reading his book. Paul holds up Binky the Chainsaw and continues.] PW: First of all, We saw Terror at the War Room scream and holler at us about old Binky here. Now, that wasn't nice. SO: Very rude. I couldn't agree more. PW: Now, Terror, maybe if you asked NICELY, we might be inclined to return Binky to you. SO: But with your attitude... [shakes his head] I have to think you're not ready for Binky. PW: Now, I've got a little message to "4M", Maurice McArthur. You know, ever since you two attacked me, I started thinking. Why would Petrow hang around with you. I mean, you're not partners. Whatever else you say about Simon and myself, we are partners. We win our matches together, and we lose them together. And then it hit me. You're not his partner, Maurice. You're his excuse. Think about it. If you two win your matches, Petrow gets all the credit. Everyone talks about how Petrow carried your sorry ass to another victory. Sure, you might get in a move once in a while. But that's about it. And when you lose? Hey, it couldn't be helped. Petrow can't wrestle two men on his own. It's not like he has a REAL tag team partner. And the brilliant thing... and here is where Petrow is a genius... is that he never says anything about it. Petrow never has to win another match, and everyone thinks he's still great. Because it's never HIS fault that Team Sychosys lost... it's yours. Like I said, Maurice. You're an excuse. And, after Saturday, you'll be used again. When they ask why Team Sychosys couldn't win... they'll just look at you ... and they'll nod their heads... and they'll say "of course". Come Saturday, everyone will witness the rebirth of the Machines... and we'll expose Petrow and his excuse for the frauds that they are. Now... my break's over, and I still have four sets to go. [He heads back to the bench. The camera pans back over to Simon, who looks up from his book and shakes his head.] SO: You really shouldn't have gotten on his bad side. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF Intercontinental Championship Match: Duncan Macbeth vs. "Real Deal" Luke Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: So now we come to your match, Duncan, defending your title against the man with the floating DDT, the "Real Deal" Luke Steele. DM: Aye, "No Big Deal" an' is' one-trick pony show. [Macbeth leans to the camera, his jade eyes glinting in the television lights.] I've jus' got this t' say t' ye, Steele. E'er since ye came up wi' yuir "floatin' DDT" move, ye've had a pretty guid run in th' IIWF. Ye got yuirself a few victories, an' it went righ' t' yuir heid, struttin' 'round like a flamin' peacock, callin' yuirself th' "hottest wrestler in th' IIWF', an' other bollocks like tha'. But th' fact remains, tosser, is tha' ye've got one move. One. An' I've gotten 'round it before, jus' before I put yuir heid through th' bleedin' canvas fer ye. Remember tha'? Beatin' ye was one o' th' easiest things I've e'er done, Steele, despite yuir fancy-pants finisher. Ye say tha' tomorrow nigh' goin' t' be hell fer me, Steele? Well, guess what, tosser? I've already been there. Been there _lots_ o' times, wha'. An' I like it there, Steele. Sae ye jus' show me wha' yuir concept o' "hell" is tomorrow nigh'. 'Cause th' hell I'm goin' t' put YE through's goin' t' make YUIRS look like a day at th' beach. LM: I'm sure that Simon Lebec will be watching the results of this match carefully as well. Any word on a possible matchup between you two at Ring Wars 5? DM: Ye'll hear all about it tomorrow nigh', Morton. LM: Can you elaborate? DM: Let's jus' say tha' th' Intercontinental Title match is goin' t' be one fer th' books. LM: And what about your cousin, Andrew? His shocking appearance last Saturday, followed by his signing an IIWF contract and appearing on the War Room on Wednesday has to be on your mind. Have you had any contact with Andrew since last Saturday, and do you know why he has spoken out against your friend and partner, Timothy N. Turner? DM: Andrew has personal issues with Tim. Me cousin's no' a man who believes in th' trappin's o' fame an' fortune. 'E's even had a go at me about hangin' out wi' Tim, sayin' I'm wastin' time when I could be workin' on me wrestlin' game. But t' tha' I say, I managed t' win th' Intercontinental Title, sae I can't be tha' lazy, can I? LM: I suppose not. Well, this match may very well have more action than just two of the finest athletes in the IIWF going toe-to-toe! We'll be watching this one closely! Luke Steele had a few words to share about his challenge to you tomorrow night! [Scene: Orlando International Airport. Around the IIWF camera, businessmen and women move around in a panic, trying to catch commuter flights, and families arrive, eager to begin their vacations. Off to one corner of the lounge sits Luke Steele, immersed in a book entitled "Caber Tossing and other useless sports". He looks up, and closes his book abruptly.] LS: Man, you guys show up everywhere. Do you even have a home, or do you live out of a suitcase? Then again, I'm hardly one to talk. You have to make such sacrifices, being the hottest wrestler in the world with the hottest damn finisher anywhere. Often imitated, never duplicated, the old saying holds true. The demands for my time from the fans, the promoters, the corporate image consultants who want a piece of the Real Deal, it kind of gets tiring, and you tend to lose focus. But then something comes along to jolt you back to reality, why you joined this sport in the first place. And that something is a title match. This weekend, Duncan Macbeth's over-glorified reign as Intercontinental Champion comes to a screeching halt. Twice before we've met Duncan, and twice you've been the victor. Third time's the charm, isn't it? It will be, and for one reason. A _big_ reason. [Luke leans back on the lounge sofa, and grins.] Duncan, you call yourself the people's champion, the man who defends the belt against anyone? Well old Ike Sampson was right, who have you defended against? Shadoe Rage, simply because you were forced to. Other than that, I can't even think of anyone else. Ironic, isn't it? You were the man who finally revealed what kind of a man Chris Quigley was, who gained the support of the fans because you were screwed out of the belt. At least Quigley wasn't a paper champion. Hell, look back at the lineage of the Intercontinental Championship. Quigley. Watkins. Creed. Byron. Warnett. Kowalski. You shame each and every one of those people by refusing to defend it, Macbeth. But pretty soon that lineup is going to have a new name addended to it. And that name is going to read "Luke Steele, won from Duncan Macbeth, March 7th, 1998." Think about that, baby doll, and enjoy your last week as champion. I'd say you've earned it, but that would be a lie. And as a final thought, you might as well keep Turner leashed in the back, because he won't do you any good. I've got an equalizer, and this man doesn't pull any punches. 'Till Saturday, Macbeth. [Fade back to the studio.] DM: Tosser. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF Cruiserweight Championship Match "Enigma" Takezo Musashi vs. Harlequin Tragedy ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: This match should the biggest the Enigma has faced since beating Ronnie Paris for the title. DM: This match'll ne'er be finished, Morton. LM: What do you mean? DM: Tha' wee bastard Musashi's been gettin' up th' arses o' damn near everyone in th' IIWF lately. 'Tis a pity fer Tragedy, 'cause e's a talented wrestler, but 'e won't be takin' th' Cruiserweight belt home tomorrow nigh', 'cause th' odds are guid tha' several blokes are goin' t' stick their noses in this match t' try t' clean th' Enigma's clock. An' I jus' may be one o' them, wha'. LM: Musashi has certainly done his best to plunge the IIWF into chaos, and with Team Sychosys apparantly allied with him, we may have only just seen the beginning of the confusion. DM: Hmph. Wha' some people won't do fer a little attention. Petrow's a guid wrestler, but 'e's no guid enough t' cover McArthur's arse, an' 'e kens it. Crazy Joe has t' keep 'is profile up by hangin' wi' th' Enigma, 'cause 'is tag team's jus' no' guid enough t' cut it in th' IIWF, period. I'm sure we'll be seein' them in this match tomorrow. LM: One thing we _are_ sure of is that anytime you see Musashi, carnage is sure to follow! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Deathbringer vs. Harlequin Chaos ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: The other Harlequin in action tomorrow night faces of against Deathbringer. DM: Th' dead man 'gainst th' big jester. 'Bringer's been a bit off lately, after th' Harlequins made off wi' 'is precious mask. Ye have t' wonder wha's happened t' th' big fella - th' Deathbringer o' auld would hae decapitated th' Harlequins land ago. Chaos can go, t' be sure, but 'e may have bitten off a wee bit more than 'e can chew 'ere, 'cause if th' dead man e'er decides t' start gettin' serious again, he'll be damned near unstoppable. LM: Deathbringer certainly has the ability to be an incredible force in the IIWF. He had the following comments for our cameras. [SCENE: The mortuary. Deathbringer and the Blind Guardian are standing behind one of the dozen caskets, arguing about some topic which the camera's microphones can't pick up, especially as the two stop talking now and turn around towards the camera] BG: Ah, there you are. Welcome back to the Dark Destroyer's mortuary. You'll have to excuse me, but I've got some preparations to finish for Ring Wars 5 and time's short. See you soon. [The Blind Guardain waves towards the camera and leaves the scene. The Deathbringer meanwhile removes his cowl, and thus the blood stained goalie mask becomes visible, which Deathbringer has been wearing for the last few weeks. The Reaper begins to speak in his low, growling voice] DB: Yes, there you are... And to be quite honest, I am wondering right now what I can tell you. You know I have been talking about the Harlequins over and over again, I have been telling you my thoughts about Tragedy and I have been ordering him to give me back what rightfully belongs to me... [Pause] DB: I am somewhat tired of repeating myself. But then again, I have been repeating myself ever since I came here to the IIWF... Now if you are one of the older fans of this league, then you will know that I am one of the last remaining charter members... And keeping this in mind, you will certainly understand that I am a little bit bored by the persisting tries of everyone to defeat me... or to hurt me... [Pause] DB: But if there is anything I have learned during all those months here in the IIWF, then it would be that I have been doing the right things here, and that I have been doing them right. Yes, I am sure that it was right to feud with Dan Kauffman, I am sure that it was right to step up against the Outlaw J.W. Hardin, knowing that Otto Verhoeven was ready to jump me from behind and I am sure that finally driving Requiem out of this league was the right thing to do as well... I could keep on telling you about all the accomplishments I achieved here, and winning the IIWF world heavyweight championship title might not even be the biggest of them. [Pause] DB: But in the end no one cares about what one has done in the past. Glory fades away like a candle in the wind. Some even say that I am not half the man I used to be. And even if I were just half the man I used to be, then I would still be far more powerful and destructive than all the other wrestlers of this league combined. You have to accept that, just as I accepted the fate of being what I am... [Pause] DB: But I am not discouraged by the words I hear when others are talking about me... Still I think it is time to climb up to the throne of the IIWF again. And I am starting to build the stairway needed to get there with the Harlequins... Tomorrow night, I will start with you, Chaos... You may be proud of it... [Pause] DB: Wrestlers of the IIWF, prepare to meet your maker! [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The American Dragons vs. Fabulous Ones ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: Here we have a match between two of the IIWF's premier tag teams! DM: This one's too close t' call. Both teams are technically sound, wi' good teamwork an' strategies. On th' down side, there's too much lame rhetoric on th' one team, an' too much sissified struttin' an' posin' on th' other. Maybe they should jus' give th' victory t' whichever team comes down t' ringside wi' th' best wardrobe, wha'. LM: Pretty hard to call there as well, Duncan. DM: Then give it t' th' team wi' th' best-lookin' valet. LM: The American Dragons don't have a valet. DM: Fine. Ms. Miki gets th' victory. The rest o' them can go stuff themselves. LM: Both teams were characteristically verbose this week. [The camera opens on a shot of Sydney Internatioal Airport. As a major travel hub for the South Pacific, travelers go to and fro, bags in hand, luggage hauled, trying to reach that next destination...that next level. The camera pans up to show Gate 21, flight arriving from San Francisco, California. As the plane disembarks, a large cross section of humanity pours off...college students...honeymooners...scientists... ...and the American Dragons. Even in the Sydney heat, Joe Scalercio and Bob Ivey have their leather jackets on hand. The trademark jackets, black for Joe, white for Bob, are tied around the waists of the young tag team. Carry-on bags slung over their shoulders, black sunglasses on, the duo make their way from the gate to the camera] BI: Ah, sunny Australia. The only place on this planet close to the Texas desert. Ever been to the Outback, Joe? JS: Bob, this little swing is the first time, I've been out on the country. Puerto Rico, Japan, Australia... BI: Oh, yeah. I forgot y'all's a poor city boy who's never seen the world! JS: And you've been here before? BI: Yep. My dad brought me down here when he was doing some training with the British Air Force in the Outback... JS: British? BI: They still keep a contingent here. Anyway, I've been there...dry... desolate...no one for miles...reminds me of home! JS: Home for you was a military base! BI: Yeah, but Carswell's in the middle of nowhere! JS: Sigh.... You see what I put up with, right? All in pursuit of the most illustrious tag belts on the planet...which reminds me. I'm looking at the rankings, right? Champs, the Down Boys. #1 contenders, the Natural Predators. No problems there. #2's Petrow and crew...yeah, they've earned it. I get to #3...and it's the Lost Boyz. What the hell? No one's heard hide or hair out of those two since they lost the belts. BI: Like I said...they're scared of new blood, Joe! JS: Yeah, well, I can't blame them! But #4's what ticked me off...the Night Patrol? One match, and they're ranked that high! They beat us, so they should be higher then us. But what about the Harlequins or the Machines? They're plugging away day in, day out...hell, even the Fabs should be ranked! BI: What my partner's trying to say is Hard Work, boys and girls. We believe in Wrestle Clean and Hard Work! You ain't #1 unless you earn it here in the Double I Double U F. So, we think we should have an opportunity to move up the rankings... I mean, if we're #5, we earned that right. JS: Hey, Fabs...last Wednesday, we were jumped BEFORE and AFTER the match. Once by a masked team...obviously the Patrol...and after Petrow and 4M. Pay attention, huh? Work the brain muscles! So, Saturday, it's going to be a rematch. You say you'll take us clean and serious? Fine... ...guarantees a win for us. We're a better team one-on-one, AbFabs. We'll be 100% for this one... because damned if we're going 0-2 against you bums... BI: And Team Sychosys? I hope you two feel limber, on this 'funky' tour y'all got going on. Because we want you two next Saturday. In the Congo. You see...we want to pound it into your skulls that just because we're the new guys here, that don't mean we're going to be pushed around. WE ain't going to run away after one match, Petrow... And let us say this...for all those who are bugging us about our slogan.... JS: Any team, any time. BI: ...it's not a slogan. It's out philosophy. We don't back down from anyone...AbFabs, Crazy Joe, Wong and O'Neil...we didn't steal it from that one-eyed loser to grab attention. We believe in it...anyone care to see it in action? [Joe starts to say something else...but airport security comes up] Guard: Sorry, gentlemen, you'll have to move along. You're holding up traffic. BI: In an airport? [Joe turns...to see a sea of people being blocked by the camera crew] JS: Oh, damn...sorry, folks! BI: We're out...just need to say the slogan... [The crowd says "Any team, any time?"] BI: That's the one! [Fade out as Bob and Joe picks up their suitcases, and traffic flow is restored.] [The scene opens with a shot of Ms. Miki talking with “Sweet” Sho Satsuma and the Lovely Bertha, sitting at a table on the main street of downtown Sydney, Australia. They’re at an outside restaurant.] SSS: I’d like to say something, if the ladies don’t mind? [Both Ms. Miki and the Lovely Bertha nod in approval.] SSS: I want to address the “Real Deal” Luke Steele. As far as our interviews go, can we help it if we like to do this stylishly. We’re aren’t into the silly little interview area thing. We’re in demand and cannot afford to stay in one place long enough to do a number of different interviews over a long period of time. And as for your comments about Ms. Miki giving favors to the Prez and Vice Prez, I don’t think so. If she had, they’d both be in the hospital with heart failure. [Pointing at Ms. Miki] This little lady can go all night and leave you in an stretcher. MM: Onto the tag team scene. With the belts now around the impostors' waists, and I’m referring to the Down Children, I’d say that Spreadbury better look into a pay-off. Awesome T isn’t above that kind of stuff. Unless Spreadbury doesn’t want to look into it. Could it be that he’s being paid as well? If that was the way to do, I assure you that Mr. Tsuburaya could pay a hundred times more than that fool. The only thing is, the Fabs are the best and don’t need to resort to that kind of tactic. Sure they lose now and then, all teams do, but they always end up looking better than the other guys. It’s all yours Bertha. LB: Thanks, Miki. I want to say how touching it is to see the Machines back together again. I mean, now I get to see Simon taken apart again for old times sake. You two should have learned your lesson the last time. I guess they’re like they’ve always been, to dumb to no better. [Bertha picks up her drink and holds it in the air.] LB: Cheers! [Then takes a sip of it.] SSS: American Drag-ons, I’d like to say that tomorrow night will be a good match, unfortunately, Agito wants us to “Wrestle Clean” so it’ll only be a victory for us, not a fun victory. Here’s how it’s going to work. Agito and I wrestled this past week in Toronto on that IIeW supercard and fought the toughest match of our, or any other team's, careers. Not even the Prophets of Rage could dish out the extreme we went through in that match. So, Agito isn’t one hundred percent, but we’ll still show up, and we’ll still get the victory. It’s inevitable, the cream always rises to the top. [With that Sho, Ms. Miki and Bertha continue talking amongst themselves as the camera pulls back, then fades to white.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Eddy "Flap" Jacks vs. Ike Sampson ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: The card is rounded out by the newest addition to the IIWF ranks taking on the poster child for our vice-president's "Wrestle Clean" campaign. DM: I dinnae ken much about this "Flap" Jacks, but I ken a lot about Ike Sampson. Ike can play th' teacher's pet all he likes, but tha's no' goin' t' get 'im tha' far 'gainst a no-nonsense bloke like Jacks. Sampson's been doin' far too much talkin' lately, an' Jacks is no' one fer idle chit-chat, wha'. Look fer th' newcomer t' get th' win 'ere. LM: Sampson's been bad-mouthing you as of late, Duncan, asking for a title shot and another Future Bowl match with Derek Mota. DM: Well, bein' hand in glove wi' th' VP does no' instantly make 'im th' number-one contender now, does it, Morton? There's a reason Spreadbury always signs th' new boys t' wrestle Sampson righ' after they finish wi' th' jobbers, ye ken. LM: I'm sure that Ike Sampson is quite happy to take on "Flap" Jacks tomorrow night. DM: O'course. Sampson's renowned fer takin' on flapjacks, especially at th' House O' Pancakes. That fatarsed tosser'll probably show up t' th' ring wi' a big bottle o' maple syrup an' a stick o' butter, wha'. LM: I've never heard Ike Sampson referred to as "fat" before but let's leave it up to his opponent to finish of this segment. [SCENE: Eddy Jacks leisurely reclines against the wall in a plain-looking sauna room, a sterile-looking white towel wrapped around his thick waist. He clasps a local newspaper in his meaty hands, clearly absorbed in his reading. Noting the presence of the IIWF camera crew, he sets the newspaper down and rises to address the crew.] EJ: Ya bastards are persistent, I’ll give ya that. Well, I’m guessin’ ya want my comments on Ike Sampson. Seein’ as how I’m in a pretty givin’ mood, I’ll give ya’ll the nice version o’ this little rant. [Jacks sets the newspaper down and wipes the sweat off his thickly-creased brow.] Ike Sampson, ya see, ain’t that good a person. Seems everybody’s favorite ol’ “Carolina Crusher” is in more’n a little in trouble with ol’ John Law. He ain’t exactly on the upward swing of a mediocre career. I ain’t got no beef with Ikey....hell, I’m “down wit’ da boys.” ‘Course, things’re gonna change when I meet “Uncle_Tom” in da ring on Saturday. [Pause.] Thinkin’ that he can “fade” me...that’s fer youse boys, Ikey....ol’ Spreaddy done booked me against another big man. Not that I ain’t gonna show due respect...Sampson’s name carries a helluva lot o’ weight with it. Too bad part o’ that’s due to that fifty-foot long rap sheet attached ta the back o’ that name. [Pause.] This ain’t the start o’ no big career-alterin’ feud. This is just a match, just a match like every other one o’ them other things I’ve been through the past six years. Win or lose, it ain’t gonna make or break me. It ain’t gonna get me no more or no less respect than I been gettin’ here in the Double-Eye. It ain’t gonna get Teddy Dross ta sing my praises or Steve Roberts ta start callin’ me da league’s next big thing. [Jacks re-ties his loosening towel. After pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts, he continues.] So whaddya do...whaddya do if you’re a big guy named Eddy Jacks, a guy they been sayin’s been through fer damn near three years now? Ya go out there every night an’ fight like ya ain’t never fought before. Ya stick yer nose ta the grindstone, get the other guy PO’d, then whip his ass. Ya fire up the fans an’ let ‘em know it’s all about the show....all_about_the_sport. Seems ta me that’s what everybody’s been fergettin’. In callin’ crooks an ’ pantywaists like Sampson the “new wave”, yer left with a never-endin’ stream o’ propaganda that don’t lead nowhere...’cept ta more bad wrestlin’ . Seems ta me..... [Jacks pauses, his countenance remaining grim and emotionless.] ...that new way’s only gonna keep ‘em sold fer so long. The Double-Eye’s gonna see the future o’ wrestlin’ in Eddy Jacks. Ike Sampson’s gonna see it firsthand when he gets his ass whupped by a real worker. [Pause.] An’ that’s just the start. Ain’t nobody really set me off since I entered the league. Ain’t nobody come up ta me an’ started somethin’. Ya_know_why? ‘Cuz ain’t nobody gonna wanna go one-on-one wit’ a guy who ain’t afraid o’ losin’. ‘Cuz there ain’t nobody in the Double-Eye that’s afraid ta put their reps on the line an’ get a good look at real wrestlin’. [Pause.] An’ that’s an open contract. Ya hear that, pretty boys and you new-school “tough” guys? Ya hear that, Steele an’ Triple-G an’ Chucky Scheffield an’ all ya’ll other big-timers...ya hear that? [Pause.] I_ain’t_afraid_o’_losin’. I ain’t afraid o’ nothin’. I sure ain’t gonna claim that I’m some undefeated monster, some goddamn gimmick machine from the ol’ “idea factory.” I ain’t no fedhead’s pretty boy, ain’t no superstar....an’ I sure ain’t gonna ever become one. Careers, ya see..... [Pause.] ...Are the measure of a man. Like I’ve been sayin’, ya got ta go out big....lettin’ ‘em know ya wuz there but that ya wuz humble, that ya always did the right thing fer yer sport....an’ if that’s whackin’ a big mook like Ike Sampson over the head a few times wit’ a steel chair an’ maybe drawin’ a few boos...that’s how it’s got ta be. [Jacks picks up his paper, adjusts his towel and resumes his seat against the wall . The camera lingers on the immense man for several moments of silence before... Fade.] ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Trash Talk |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... LM: A number of wrestlers had things to add to this week's edition of Countdown. We were going to lead off with the "Party Maniac" but we were unable to get ahold of the tape due to a bizarre incident involving both ex-VPs, penguins and a tub of low-fat spread. We shouldn't get into it here. We did, however, catch "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner as he arrived in Sydney. [The shot opens up at the Sydney airport, in the arrivals lounge. The IIWF camera crew is waiting and their patience is rewarded as Timothy Turner is seen walking through the gate. He is wrapped in an overcoat,despite the warm weather, and has a scowl plastered onto his face.] IIWF: Mr.Turner! Can we get a word? TNT: No. [Turner turns his back and hurries out of range, leaving the camera crew behind. The shot fades.] [The camera opens on the interior of the home of Christopher Stonebreaker. A wide variety of photographs are seen spread along the log walls, and in the corner a fireplace remains unlit. Sitting with his back to the fireplace is the owner of the house, and he begins to speak without ever turning around.] CS: You know, sometimes you fear to become the thing that you are inside. For so long I wanted to prove to the world that I was the top caliber athlete that I knew I was. [Chris stops for a few moments, still staring into the empty fireplace.] CS: But it seems that this past Saturday night, I had forgotten that fact. This Saturday night in Japan, I let myself down. I had become that which I had never wanted to see here. [Chris turns around to show a tear running down his left cheek and on his face a look of disappointment.] CS: You see, I have killed a man. And in his place...you are looking at what is left here. [Chris brushes the tear off his cheek and just stares into the camera for a few moments, and then the look of disappointment is replaced by that of determination.] CS: What you have here is a beast. A beast that has been _unleashed_ by various individuals of the IIWF. That's right Musashi, I went down your road Saturday night. I went the way of you Enigma, I went the way of you Steele and now I have become something that I feared to see. [Chris rises up to his feet, and walks over to the fireplace, and turns a black knob, and the hiss of gas can be heard pouring into the brick laden pit. Chris reaches into his pocket as he continues to talk.] CS: But I will not allow this thing that you have brought out wander aimlessly through the federation. This beast will have it's rest, but first.... First it has something that it must do. [Chris pulls out of his pocket a book of matches, and holds it up in one hand for a moment.] CS: It must feed. [He pulls the first match off, and not bothering to close it back up completely, lights the match, and stares at it a moment, before setting fire to the entire book.] CS: And, Steele, it will start with you. You say that you are finished with me now that you have your victory to your credit. Now that you have one time defeated that which you have helped create. [Chris stands almost motionless staring at the matchbook.] CS: Much like this, Steele, what you have helped create will not be finished until it has fed on you completely. Until there is nothing left. [The matchbook starts to blaze brighter and Chris tosses the small inferno into the fireplace, and the gas catches almost immediately, as the fireplace turns a bright orange, blinding the viewers for a moment.] CS: Finished, Steele? [Chris turns back to face the camera with a look on his face that can only be described as perfectly normal.] CS: We haven't even started. [Chris stares into the camera as it finally begins to fade out to black.] [Camera opens with "The Savior" Simon Lebec, sitting in a cahir in front of a computer. Lebec is using Netscape, with the IIWF homepage on the monitor. Lebec looks at the camera] SL: I'm dialed in, dude! Ain't never been much of a computer nerd, but I figgered, th' times, they is a changin'. Got some computer nerd ta set me up, an' show m' th' ropes ta this here Internet thingy. Gave 'em m' sincere thanks, an' a nice side o' moose ass fer his supper. Ol' Lebec don't carry no credit cards. [Lebec scrolls down to the Intercontinental Champion section, and points to his name as the #1 contender for Duncan Macbeth's Intercontinental Title] I ain't never been no #1 nothin' o' nothin'. [Lebec smiles, looing back into the camera] But now, ol' Duncan, looks ta me like I'm yer worst nightmare. [Lebec grins] Feels real nice being #1. Real nice indeed. [Camera fades.] [Scene opens to a shot of a large park late at night. Only the sound of lightly rippling water from a nearby lake interrupts the silence. After 4-5 seconds of inactivity, the camera pans outwards to reveal a shadowy figure sitting at a nearby tree. As the camera slowly begins to focus on the individual, his identity becomes clear. Dressed entirely in black, save for a red baseball cap, he wears a wry smile as he begins to speak.] RW: Ever wonder what comes after all hope is lost? _I_ have, and I figured it was just hope _against_ hope. And after that? Take a look at Marty Warnett and you'll find the answer -- Self-delusion. Marty, do you honestly believe your little comparisons are any way relevant? Or are you just trying to convince yourself and Bill that I'll go away... that everything will be okay... that, like your pals, Reed and The Universal Powers, I'll disappear, never to be seen in Portland again? Sorry Jack, ain't gonna happen. I'm here for the long haul, and like I've said all along, I'm here to call time on the careers of washed-up ex-superstars, like yourself and Billy. And hey, you don't believe me? Try visiting Bill in hospital sometime. [Removing the baseball cap briefly, Williams pushes his hair from his face before he proceeds, his tone noticeably more downbeat.] But you know Marty, on Saturday night, I received some heartbreaking news... It cut me up inside. You see, I heard that I don't impress you. [Laughing aloud, he takes several seconds to compose himself.] I mean, come on, do you honstly think I _care_? Hell, I ended your best friend's career... I damn sure wasn't trying to get on your "recommended" list. And as for you "embarassing" me... the only person you're capable of embarassing these days, Marty, is yourself... and maybe good ol' Blindfold Billy. You want to embarass me, Marty? Then beat me in the ring... Wearing a mask, pretending to be Billy Shakespeare like the coward I know you are isn't doing _me_ any harm. And one last thing, rarebit -- I hear you're interested in regaining the IC belt. Well, whadda ya know... looking at the rankings, I've got my eye on that particular prize too... and I sure as hell ain't giving it up to one half of the IIWF's "How the hell do we still have these great jobs" boys. You don't need to forge my signature, Marty... I'm not the one with the problem of a yellow stripe on my back that just won't wash off. [Fade] [Lights up on a quiet scene, outside a ramshackle bar in Kurrumburra, Australia. The silence is broken by a crash and three bodies which fly out of the bar in rapid succession, one through the door, one out the window...and one through the wall. The cameraman, reluctant to enter, finally does so, to see a brawl dying down as Grey Phoenix, Bear, and Kuyler each beat away the last of the crowd around them. Bear's hair is soaking wet, a glare in his eyes. Grey Phoenix looks dishevveled, a thin line of blood from the side of his mouth. And Kuyler? Fixes his tie, brushes back his hair, and sits, a few good sized bruises concealed under his suit.] B: [growling] Anyone ELSE want to say wrestling is fake? [Grey Phoenix and Kuyler laugh, as the Bartender walks up, almost totally oblivious to the fallen forms of eight men in the bar...and three outside. a few noisy people still in the back, but the bar is noticeably quieter] BT: Don't let 'em get to you, lads....this 'ere's a mining town...when ye get cramped down in a coal hole for twelve hours, away from light of day, you get a little edgy. KG: You find them everywhere. BT: Yer that American team, yeah? Natural Predators. We all watch ya and the IIWF down 'ere all the time. Gotta ask you somethin'. Why you using that old name, that 'Orsemen...? KG: Symbols are important....especially in wrestling. [looks over at Bear, as a thin trickle of blood runs down his face] What happened to you? B: Guy who I threw through the wall broke a bottle over my head. Opened a cut. BT: Way I sees it, you don't need to call yerself the 'Orsemen...that there wanker, Steve Roberts... [one of the beaten men looks up and says drunkenly] BM: Shoot sown'bite...shoot... [before falling back down] BT: ...'e's not far off...You use that name, you'll be imitatin' a successful act. GP: He's right, Kuy... B: So what are we gonna call ourselves? KG: Well, I'm open to suggestions....The Core? Four-arm? BT: Well, ways I see it...you should listen to a fan....to be a pro wrestler, you gotta be determined...you gotta have dedication...you need the desire...and you have to use the drive in you to win....if'n there will be a fourth guy in you...call yourself 4-D. [pause. Kuyler smiles] KG: More than just your average two dimensional stable... B: "4-D"? GP: Well, if we can handle these guys, we can handle any "4-H" comments we'll get. [They rise, Kuyler goes to pay] KG: Thank you, Mister.... BT: Yer welcome. tell ol' Joe Petrow he forgot about John Studd and Gino Hernandez in his tribute... GP: He forgot a few people... BT: Well, just another Ozzie bloke who thinks the IIWF is bonza says so. KG: Thank you. Good night. BT: Hey, Greyson! [Bear and GP walk out, Kuy stops, turns around.] KG: Yeah? BT: They been sold out in Sydney for a couple of weeks now...'n I promised me kid I'd take him...you wouldn't happen to have... KG: [interrupting] Of course. [Hands him two tickets on the floor, walks out] BT: Thanks, Mr. Greyson.... [Lights out as a few men regain consciousness, only to be batted down again by the Bartender] BT: You idiots went after me son's favorite tag team, yah droobs! [Fade back into the Countdown studio.] LM: Well, that brings us to the end of...uh, I'm being waved at from off the set by our producer. [Producer Rusty Priske's voice is heard over the studio microphone.] RP: Um, guys, I've got someone here on the phone. I'm going to patch it into the studio. DM: Soddin' bollocks, wha' now? [Andrew Macbeth's distinctive brogue is heard over the phone line.] AM: Well, well, cousin. 'Ere I am at th' bleedin' aeroport waitin' fer ye t' pick me oop, an' I see on th' closed-circuit telly tha' yer havin' a nice wee chat with Mr. Morton. Perhaps instead o' flappin' yer gums runnin' doon everyone in the bleedin' fed, ye can get yer _arse_ in gear an' take care of yer _own kind_ fer a change, aye. [click, then a dial tone] DM: [fuming] Sae we're finally done then, are we no'? LM: Indeed we are. Duncan Macbeth, I'd just like to thank you for coming today and sharing your particular insights into this... DM: Save it, Morton. I've a meetin' wi' th' President about Ring Wars 5 in an hour, me cousin t' pick up at th' airport, an' a title match t' prepare fer. Ye've wasted enough o' me time already. Cheers, tosser. [Macbeth abruptly gets up and storms out of the studio, leaving an open-mouthed Morton staring after him as the Scot slams the door behind him as he departs.] LM: Duncan doesn't seem thrilled with his cousin at the moment. It makes you wonder if he will stand by his blood or his long-time friend, Timothy Turner in their inevitable confrontation. Time will tell. And that's all the time we have this week. Tomorrow you will see the best two hours of wrestling action available on television and don't forget to tune in next week when we have a special treat for you. My special co-host for the evening will be none other than Icehawk! Goodnight everybody! +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Gregg Osterhout | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | ghost@frii.com | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+