________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| |\ /| /\ |\ | | /\ \ / | || | \ v v / | __| | v |/ \| \| __| /__\ \/ |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| | |\ /| |/ |/ \/ | | \/ | |\_// /\ |\ /| | _ | / __ / __ | v | | | / \ . |\ | / \ / \ | | | | \__ | | \| | __ \__ 9 March 1998 | | | | \ | | | \__| \ .....................|..v_____/.|.|..|____|____/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Duncan Macbeth ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The IIWF interview area backstage at the Sydney Opera House is suddenly thrown into turmoil as IIWF Intercontinental Champion Duncan Macbeth storms into the studio, his ruddy hair a wild tangle and his green eyes glittering after his backstage brawl with Simon Lebec, and the Scot steps right up into the camera, fixing his burning gaze right on the lens. The studio staff quickly clear out of the way, as Macbeth's whole demeanour suggests a wild, out-of-control beast of prey, but up close, the champion seems to be radiating satisfaction and self-confidence as he spits his words towards the camera.] DM: Now THA' was a good time, wha'! Ye were righ', Steele. Th' third time WAS th' charm, ye bleedin' bush-league eejit. Fer ME. Tonigh', ye're jus' goin' home wi' yet ANOTHER loss t' Duncan Macbeth. An' th' next time ye run yuir mouth on me, "No Big Deal", ye'll be goin' home wi' a broken neck. An' I'm a man o' me word, as ye well ken. [Macbeth rubs at the back of his neck for a moment, the red welts from being choked by a television cable still visible, and he brushes a wayward strand of ginger hair out of his eyes, chuckling to himself before he continues.] Simon Lebec -- congratulations, tosser. Ye finally managed t' get yuirself ranked as th' number-one contender t' me title. O'course, ye did no' exactly beat anybody t' get yuirself there, but tha's neither here nor there now. 'Tis indeed a good feelin', bein' number one, is it no'? Bu' ye forgot about one thing, "Showstopper" -- th' number-one contender t' th' Intercontinental Title is really number TWO. I'M number one. An' number two's as high as ye're goin' t' get. [Macbeth leans in to the camera, his eyes narrowing, and a chilling grin slowly spreading across his face.] 'Cause I came t' realise somethin' tonigh', Lebec, whilst I was slappin' tha' useless tosser Luke Steele around th' ring like a red-headed stepchild. I realised tha' I'd found me game again. I've been treated like gold by th' IIWF fans e'er since I set foot in this fed, an' I thought that' I had t' live up t' their support by bein' someone else, someone tha' I'm not. But th' truth o' th' matter is, I went in t' tha' match against Steele tonigh', an' I jus' did wha' comes naturally. An' I bleedin' DESTROYED 'im. An' th' fans ate it up. Tha's REALLY bad news fer ye, Lebec. An' bad news fer Osterhout, as well. Two weeks from now, at Ring Wars 5, ye an' I are goin' t' be face t' face on th' steel deck o' a barge in th' middle o' th' Thames. Ye're practically goin' t' be in me own backyard, "Showstopper". An' if ye're smart, ye'll start workin' on yuir dog-paddle, wha'. 'Cause ye're no' goin' t' want t' be on th' same boat wi' th' man tha' wiped th' floor wi' Steele tonigh'. I promise ye. [Macbeth turns to leave, then catches himself, turning back to the camera with a bemused grin.] An' Andrew -- I'll be seein' ye Saturday nigh', coz. Ye're about t' get yuir official welcome t' th' IIWF, wha'... [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "The Savior" Simon Lebec ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Camera opens to the scene of "The Savior" Simon Lebec, sitting in a bathtub. Lebec is fully dressed, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. A toy boat floats in the water next to him. Lebec looks into the camera and waves, giving his trademark grin] SL: I ain't never been much o' a sailor. Still, them execs decide ta put me an' Macbeth on a barge fer our match. [Lebec begins playing with the toy boat] I figger, I'll have ta get prepared, so here I am. Surrounded by water. I figger this is th' same a the river, minus all that there polluted materials. [Lebec reaches for a garbage bag on the floor. He opens the bag, pouring garbage into the tub with him. Surrounded by soup cans, papers, and ashes, he throws his smoke into the tub as well] Yessir, now I feel at home. An' Duncan, you'll feel at home too. Feel real nice when I throw ya overboard. [Lebec nods to himself] I can see th' brass ring. It's only a barge throw away. [Lebec picks up one of the water-soaked newspapers and begins flipping through the pages] Yessir! Ain't life swell? [Camera fades as Lebec winks to the camera.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Serge Annis ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The screen fades in to the backstage are of the Sydney Opera House. "The Epitome of Evil" Serge Annis is seen walking back to his locker room, as the blood that ran from his nose is caked and dries. Annis is singing a song, and the tune is "Santa Clause Is Coming To Town."] SA: # Oh... he's making a list / He's checking it twice / Gonna find out who's naughty or nice / Serge Annis is coming... # [Annis stops singing and speaks with a cold, angry tone, looking down the hallway he walks through.] SA: Serge Annis is coming to claim revenge and snap a few necks in the process. Two weeks. Ring Wars Five. Mad Dog Watkins, you may think you pulled the wool over my eyes signing the Descent Into Hell Scaffold Match. I rather like those rules, Watkins. About a month ago, I made good of a promise and brought Hell to you, Old Dog. Now, it's my turn to take you back... but this time, you won't be surviving. Two weeks, Dog. You have two weeks left to live your life to the fullest... because I'll be damned if I don't stomp you at Ring Wars. [Annis turns a corner in the hallway and enters a smaller hallway. Some of the doors have names on them. Ike Sampson. Luke Steele. Moxy. Clearly Annis has hit the dressing rooms.] SA: Steve Kowalski, I'm gonna save the bull-Quigley crying for the tabloids, but you know and I know it... you didn't beat me tonight. Add two assists from Watkins and Rage, but I am sure you don't mind... in your head it's a moral victory. Well guess what... the same goes for me... it reminds me of just why I am here, and why I am trying to win that title. The IIWF won't hold Serge Annis back forever... so they can send Mad Dog Watkins, or they can send Charles Scheffield... I won't be denied. Rage, I have no quarrel with you... but stay out of my way if you want to stay healthy. The Epitome of Evil is incensed... and that's a bad thing for you, and anyone else who gets in my way. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Rather than the usual interview area piece, a video tape was dropped off to the IIWF studios in Portland, via courier. The resulting tape was clearly filmed on a portable camera. It shows the inside of Timothy Turner's cabin near the fishing village of Ucluelet, B.C. TNT is slumped in a chair, wearing the same suit we saw him in on Saturday. He looks like an absolute mess. Akira Saito stands behind him while, presumably, Tom Turner operates the camera.] AS: You feel despair. TNT: Yes. AS: You do not feel the will to compete. TNT: No. AS: You do not feel that you have the ability to win. TNT: No. AS: You will never hold any place of prominence in the IIWF. TNT: No...wait. I had the Cruiserweight belt. AS: You won that belt purely on luck. TNT: No! I worked for it! AS: You didn't deserve that title. TNT: Now hold on...! AS: You should just quit the IIWF and be forgotten forever. TNT: The hell with that! I earned my place! [A hint of a smile creeps onto Saito's face.] AS: Put these on. [Saito tosses Turner some fresh clothes and the camera cuts away.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Andrew Macbeth ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [A swarm of reporters approaches Andrew Macbeth as he makes his way to the interview table, sits down, and begins drinking a glass of milk.] Reporter: Andrew, Kevin Haskins, Melbourne Inquisitor. What were your impressions regarding your cousin Duncan's performance tonight? AM: 'E's still too soddin' emotional fer 'is own guid, aye. [Andrew takes a sip of his milk. The reporters wait for a follow-up statement, but none is coming. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, another reporter speaks.] Reporter: Daniel Ash, Sydney Wrestling Weekly... can you give us a few words about Timothy N. Turner and his obviously downtrodden condition? [Andrew shifts in his chair, takes another drink of milk, and grunts derisively] AM: Miserable sod. [More uncomfortable silence] Reporter: Umm... Sir? David J., Hobart Muddy. We've just learned that you will be teaming with Simon Lebec next week against both Duncan and Turner. How do you respond... [Andrew shoots up from his seat, his eyes like two fiery green suns. His glass of milk gets knocked over. Andrew quickly regains his composure, looks down at the mess he's made, and grins.] AM: Well, not worth cryin' over, is it? [And, with a quick laugh, Andrew departs. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Deathbringer ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF interview area. Deathbringer is still wearing his wrestling attire as he's standing there in front of the camera. After a while the Dark Destroyer begins to speak in his low growling voice] DB: Disqualifications... They seem to be the only way in which I gather victories here in the IIWF lately... But I do not care about that... A victory is a victory, but no victory can be more important to me than the victory over one Harlequin Tragedy... Listen up, Tragedy... On March 21st, 1998 I will get back what rightfully belongs to me... We are scheduled to meet each other in a Ladder Match, and to be quite honest, it is not the kind of match which I am best in... But as the IIWF officials did not want to give me another Casket Match, or even a Death Match for that matter, the Blind Guardian and the Reaper himself agreed to participate in this match... As a matter of fact, it does not really matter what kind of a match we will face in... The first thing I will do is to break your neck, Tragedy, that I guarantee you... I will then continue to bury you right in that squared circle in front of the capacity crowd, who will then have the opportunity to take a good long look at your dead and twisted body, the lifeless eyes of which will at that point be staring towards the ceiling, and far beyond that ceiling into eternity... Then, if your clown comrades should join us in the ring, I will use the chance to take them six feet under as well... And I do not even care about anyone else who should dare to step into my way on that very evening... No, I will be tossing around dead bodies as long as I have to, before I take that ladder and climb up to my mask, this item which I have been longing for... You cannot stop me, Tragedy... Just like you could not stop me on Saturday Night... You have chosen the wrong opponent... A mortal mistake... but be sure that it will have been your last one... Tragedy... only a few days are left until Ring Wars 5... Enjoy them... and... PREPARE TO MEET YOUR MAKER! [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: IIWF backdrop. We see a mammoth man standing with his back to the camera... but we don't see much OF him, since he's dressed in a huge winter coat with tufts of "fur" around the cuffs and the hood. A gruff voice, increasingly familiar to the IIWF fans, speaks...] VOICE: Revenge is a dish best served cold... [The giant coat slowly turns around until we see it from a front view. A bushy beard, a pair of sunglasses and a huge, unmistakable Grizzly Grin peek out through the opening in the hood. It's Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines.] GGG: ...and no one's had it served to them _colder_ than Jimmy "Meatman" Steele. [A raspy chuckle emanates from within the massive winter jacket. The wearer gives himself a sort of hug.] GGG: Gee, this jacket sure is warm. One should _never_ go out without a jacket, right? That's lesson number one for the Meatman. And lesson number two... dealing with the Baddest Thang Running can be kinda like ramming your head against the wall. Or should I say... door? [He laughs some more. Then he stops. He speaks in a more serious tone.] GGG: Kid... you're young in this sport, and you're about as sharp as a bag of wet hair. Not too bright, I realise. But _still_ -- you shoulda realised to just go down the FIRST time I got in your face. That way you could have cut your losses and only been hurt ONCE. But nooooo... you had to spring a bear trap on me. Put a couple scratches on my leg. Pissed me off a little bit. So, I decided to turn the tables and trap YOU... [...he spreads his arms wide slowly... then suddenly slams them together like the jaws of a trap...] GGG: ...in your _own_ trap. You became just another side of beef in your own meat wagon! [He smiles and shakes his head back and forth, wiping away a fake tear.] GGG: How _humiliating_, son. [Grizzly Grin] GGG: But I got just the thing for ya, son. A way to redeem yourself. A way to prove that you can handle yourself around your own lame-ass gimmick. It's called a COFFIN COOLER MATCH. Ring Wars 5... there'll be a coffin cooler down at ringside, just like you see at the supermarket. Only this one has a lid on it. The winner, me, has to stuff the loser, you, into that coffin cooler and then shut the lid to win the dang match. Simple, eh? [He laughs.] GGG: But son... things are ANYTHING but simple when you're dealing with The Baddest Thang Running. [Something dawns on him.] GGG: Oh, by the way... what's this? We have to TEAM UP? [Gunnar shakes his head.] GGG: I'm surprised the Double Eye is even going to let me be _around_ you, let alone tag up with you. We're booked to fight a couple of fart stains called Christopher Stonebreaker and Luke Steele. Well, that's just fine. This way, they can take up the same challenge as you -- and FAIL -- just like you. And ya know what challenge that is, son? [thumb to himself] GGG: BEAT ME -- IF YOU CAN! [Gunnar wipes some sweat off his forehead. Before signing off, he has an afterthought.] GGG: Gee, this jacket is too hot... something Steele probably isn't too familiar with right now. Oh well... I'd better take it off. [He takes the jacket off. Underneath it, he's wearing a sweatshirt which reads, "Oprah just kicked your ass..." He turns around to face the backdrop again. The back of the sweatshirt reads, "...and so did Gunnar Gaines." Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Real Deal" Luke Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade up to the IIWF interview area. Standing in front of the lense is the "Real Deal" Luke Steele, standing with a pissed off expression on his face. Steele, despite his equaliser earlier in the night, is alone. He's still wearing his black ring tights, as well as a t-shirt with the words "I got hit with the Floating DDT, and all I have to remember it by is this lousy t-shirt".] LS: All right Stonebreaker, you wanted a war? Costing me the Intercontinental Title is a damn good way to do it. And don't you think you're getting off easy, Macbeth. I'm still coming after your highland ass, but it's gonna wait until after Ring Wars V. I'm going to be wearing that IC belt by the summer, you wait and see. But Christopher Stonebreaker, Ring Wars V is going to be your downfall. And a water bucket match? I obviously hit you with the bucket harder than I thought last time. You can't be remembering it, or you'd never have signed the contract for it. [Steele starts to walk off camera, but turns back around to face the camera again.] By the way, Moxy... don't stick your nose in my business again. I've got Stone's services, and no matter what hold you _think_ you've got over him, he works for me. Mota's got the right idea, though the tough little bastard can be annoying at times. Moxy, you get in my way again and you'll find yourself flung into the tenth row courtesy of the Real Deal. Stone's my equaliser for all you people out there who like to play the numbers game. Macbeth, you've got that twerp Turner hanging off you to protect the gold, Ryan Howard's mother seems to have paid off a few new friends for her baby boy, and in the biggest joke of them all, there's supposedly a new group of Horsemen? If any of these guys had talent, they wouldn't need friends to help them out. I'm out, baby dolls. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Machines ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Simon O'Neal stands in front of the IIWF Interview area. Behind him, Paul Wong has a sledge hammer in one hand... and Binky the Chainsaw on the ground.] SO: We told everyone we were back. Team Sychosys did a good job, better than I thought. But in the end, they were run through the Machine. [He pauses] Now, on to another issue. Harlequin Terror, we ask one small favour from you. Just one tiny favour, and everything would be squared up. We'd be happy, you'd get Binky, all would be well. But did you knock Petrow and McArthur unconscious? [Shakes his head] No, you didn't. Well, now you aren't getting Binky. Paul... [Paul lifts the sledge hammer above his head, aims for Binky... and sets the sledge hammer down.] PW: Let's hold off. SO: Hold off? PW: I'm in a generous mood. We won the match, we get a chance for the titles at Ring Wars Five... let's give Terror another chance. SO: Well... all right. Terror, you should thank this man [points to Paul] You owe him big time. We'll come up with another small favour from you... maybe this time, you'll do it right. I know Binky wants to see you again. PW: [Trying to keep a straight face] Binky says hello... and he misses you. [The camera fades to grey... but the sound keeps recording, and you can clearly hear both men speaking.] SO: We're done. PW: Hey, how long can we keep this going with the chainsaw? SO: He's dumb and psychotic about the thing. We can keep this up for months. PW: But... SO: Trust me. Would I screw things up now? [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "The Demon" Damien Lestat ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Camera up to the colourful IIWF curtains that adorn the infamous "Interview Area". From stage left, the sounds of coughing, gagging and finally an unloading of mucus can be heard. Enter "The Demon" Damien Lestat with Mr. Coolie safely tucked under the crook of his left arm. Lestat picks his nose as the remnants from his last spewing of innards dangles from his scraggily beard] DL: [Too loudly as he eats his nose-findings] I'M GONNA BE F "KING OF THE HILL"! [For whatever reason, he finds his last comment humorous and laughs hysterically which causes him to bend over at the waist and gag up more mucussy goo.] DL: [Kinda wiping his mouth as he speaks to Mr. Coolie] Pancake-boy! "Mr. Clean" Ikey!.........AND MOXY F BLUE!! Arentcha' excited, Mr. Coolie?! [Lestat nods along with the red-and-white plastic cooler] DL: We get to toss those f off a mountain! One by one! [Suddenly, Lestat moves Mr. Coolie to his ear and Lestat "listens" to his artificial friend. A look of bewilderment and disbelief crosses Lestat's face.] DL: WHAT?! NO GOD-DAMNED MOUNTAIN?!?!?!? [A nose pick later....] DL: AWWWWWWWWWWWWW F!!!! Now I'm _really_ pissed! [Lestat again eats his little new-found treat from his nose and as he exits stage right, he mumbles something about "showing those f"...] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Richard "Moxy" Blue ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The immense parking lot of the Sydney Opera house, there is a huge traffic jam as the crowd from the latest IIWF taping is now making their way back to their cars and back to their mundane lives. The air is thick with exhaust smoke and under the late night sky it seems even thicker. The camera zooms from a long shot to a close one of an Australian Sedan., to which a ragged and worn Richard "Moxy" Blue leans onto as he stumbles into the cameras view. He still wears his iridescent blue tights, with one strap hanging at his side. His thick blue tinged hair is in a knots and the gash on his right arm from his match a few weeks ago with Damien Lestat a few weeks ago has reopened. Despite all, his foolish grin has not diminished. He looks to the camera, not acknowledging the non designated interview area.] RMB: [gasping in what could be anything from exhaustion to joy] Yes! I finally left my mark on IIWF history! I have been attacked by more people in one night than anyone before me! Five! BEAT THAT WORLD! Now it's time to....hey, you folks'll hafta wait...OH YEAH RIGHTEOUS! [The car Blue is leaning on starts suddenly, as there has been an driver in it this whole time. Blue nearly jumps out of skin, and scampers off camera, yelping. Classic fade to blue.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Eddy "Flap" Jacks ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Eddy Jacks charges into the IIWF interviewing area, his brow sweaty and his countenance fierce. He impatiently grabs a nearby microphone and begins to speak.] EJ: Ain't nothin' worse than losin'... 'cept losin' when ya know ya got a match won. [Pause.] Ol' Ike Sampson gave me all he had. An' I'll be the first ta admit, the big Negro had a helluva lot. He just didn't have enough ta get the one, two, three. 'Course, he got the count. Ain't like it mattered. I been beat in worse ways an' by worse wrestlers. It ain't like a loss is gonna make or break ya. What smarts is when ya had a match in yer hand an' ya let it go. What sticks in yer craw is that ya got passed over, that ya got beat 'cuz the league couldn't afford better refs....and 'cuz there wasn't nobody man 'nuf ta stand up and do somethin' 'bout it. [Thumb to himself.] An' I just did what I had ta do. Sure, I levelled him. Sure, I got fined up the arse. But that don't mean nothin'. I think I made a point ta every IIWF fan that I ain't a man ta be taken lightly....an' I sure as hell ain't no jobber-ta-the stars. Ike Sampson, ya earned every minute o' that match against me. Like I been sayin', I ain't backin' down from nobody....there ain't no denyin' that fact. [Jacks tugs his beard thoughtfully.] An' it ain't like there's not gonna be a reckonin', a second shot I sorely deserve. You an' me, Ikey, we gonna be gettin' it back on at Ring Wars. Ya think fer one damn minute I'm cryin' crocodile tears 'bout what happened last night? Hell no. I'm thinkin' about how fun plantin' yer ass on the mat is gonna be.....second time 'round, that is. [Pause.] Come Ring Wars, Ikey, that ringin' in yer head ain't just gonna be from a guilty conscience. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ American Dragons ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [We open on Joe Scalercio and Bob Ivey, aka the American Dragons, sitting in their locker room, watching the IIWF President, Daniel Spreadbury, in the ring announcing the lineup for Ring Wars 5] BI: So where are we? JS: He's not done yet, Bob... DS: ...plus there will be tag team action, as four of the IIWF's top tag teams battle it out in a tornado rules match to determine the #1 contenders! We'll see the American Dragons, Fabulous Ones, Night Patrol, and the Machines! [Joe stares, slack jawed, as Bob jumps up to his feet] BI: Tornado rules? Did he just say tornado rules? JS: Yeah... BI: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAW! Do you know what that means? WE CAN DO ANYTHING! JS: True... BI: Tornado rules? Oh, man, the AbFabs are shaking in their trunks right now! JS: Bob... BI: Oh man, we can finally show... JS: BOB! BI: What? JS: Tornado rules? Think for a moment... BI: Okay... no DQ... no countout... JS: Haven't we spent the past few weeks advocating "Wrestle Clean"? BI: Yeah...oh, damn! I've been saying it all along...the suits don't want it to work! JS: Well, there's more... BI: Spit it out! JS: This isn't my forte... BI: Huh....oh. No problem, Joe! JS: I don't think you heard me, Bob... BI: Look, it's cake! You're talking to an Army brat! I, who was raised on John Wayne, Dick Marcinko, and an Army base! JS: Um.... BI: We've got two weeks? Fine. JS: Fine? What do you mean, fine? [Bob grins evily...] BI: Welcome to Boot Camp, Joe... Give me two weeks... ...and we'll show those six other pansies the true definition of... Any team, any time... [Fade out on a shot of Bob's back, the dragon logo breathing fire as Ivey laughs.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Night Patrol ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [All three members of the Night Patrol stand in the interview area, the men in shades] JB: [Loudly] All right, first things first! The true Law and Order of the IIWF is back in town, and we've got some trash to clean up! RG: Down Boys, we should send in the fashion police for those weak 80's get-ups, but we'll just bust some heads of you punk rockers like we do for crowd control at concerts. BH: And Dragons, we'll give credit where it's due. No one expects the Spanish Inquisition or the Night Patrol. Take it as a lesson and stay clear. JB: I heard somethin' 'bout us having a dance on the Ring Wars card. Well, bring 'em all on! Me and the Sarge [pats Garcia on the shoulder, who then raises his fists] got enough to go around for everyone! [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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+