C + O + U + N + T + D + O + W + N T + O ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/..............\........|...|.......|....| with Larry Morton 10 April 1998 [The now-familiar Countdown set comes into view, with the large logo bearing backdrop dominating the set and a low table and two chairs sitting in front. The left chair is filled with our usual host.] LM: Hello IIWF fans and welcome back to the first Countdown show since the greatest pay-per-view spectacular ever shown...Ring Wars 5! I'm Larry Morton and I'm proud to be a part of one of the most exciting times in this industry! We have a brand new Cruiserweight Champion for fans to be proud of, in Icehawk. We have an opportunity for any one of fifteen athletes to take hold of the Intercontinental belt. We have a tag team scene that grows more competitive every day! This brings us to our co-host for this evening... [Larry looks into the wings, as if to make sure the expected person is there...] LM: Allow me to introduce to the fans at home the man behind Tsuburaya Enterprises, and the man who brought the Fabulous Ones to the IIWF, which I’m sure the ladies are happy about, Mr. Tsuburaya. [An older oriental gentleman in his mid to late forties walks onto the set. He’s wearing an Armani original dark gray suit. He sits down in the set next to Larry.] LM: Thanks for coming. MT: Domo Arigato, Mr. Morton-san. I wish I was here on different circumstances. With the injury Ms. Miki suffered by the hand of Paul Wong, she isn’t able to make it tonight. LM: I hope she gets better soon. MT: Not to worry, she’ll be back. You can count on that. However, I know that her appearance on the “Countdown” was your biggest ratings ever for this show. I only hope I don’t bring down the show. LM: You’re going to do fine. MT: I don’t think Rusty thinks so. But, who cares. If I wanted to, I could buy the “Countdown” show out from under him. LM: How humble of you. MT: [Smiling] It’s a joke. [Glares off camera, obviously in Rusty’s direction.] But, I could. LM: With that said, lets get to tomorrow’s show. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| PREVIEW: IIWF Saturday Night - 11 April 1998 |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... LM: We have an amazing line-up to kick off the return of IIWF Saturday Night. It features the two biggest happenings to concern IIWF fans for the next month or so...the battle for the Intercontinental gold and the King of the Cruisers tournament! We are certainly in for an exciting ride! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP BATTLE ROYAL: "Savage" Shadoe Rage, "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner, Christopher Stonebreaker, "Real Deal" Luke Steele, Jimmy "The Meatman" Steele, Ike Sampson, "Vagabond" Chris Staley, Charles Scheffield, Edmund Fitzgerald, "Epitome of Evil" Serge Annis, "Party Maniac" Marty Warnett, Derek Mota, Harlequin Tragedy ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: Now, let's talk about the Intercontinental Championship Tournament Elimination Battle Royal. Any thoughts as to who you think might take this thing? MT: Professionally speaking, I’d probably have to go with Shadoe Rage-san. Basically, he’s been on a roll. He’s beaten almost everybody that has a name as of late. However, if I had to pick from personal feelings, it would have to be Luke Steele. The man has incredible ability. He’s come a long way in the last few months. Now, I’m sure I know who Ms. Miki would go for...Marty Warnett-san. He’s got a lot of tools and seems to know how to use them right. His only short coming is the company he keeps. LM: You must be referring to 4M? MT: Hai. LM: Of course, this match will not decide who gets the belt. It only decides who gets in the tournament so we may see a lot of wrestlers playing in very defensively as they try not to be eliminated rather than actually winning. Most of the participants are very keyed up for this contest and had much to say. [Fade in:] SR: [voiceover] I've been blown up. [Cut to: Steve Kowalski slaming Shadoe RAge down on the land mine at Ring Wars V.] SR: I've been beaten to a bloody pulp by the best the IIWF had to offer. [Cut to: All three IIWF champions taking turns pummeling Rage.] SR: Time and time again I've had to come back from the very jaws of defeat. And time and time again I've done it. And I will continue to do it. [Cut to: Shadoe Rage's bandaged and ravaged hands.] SR: These hands are the scars of a man who has been through hell and back. [Cut to: Shadoe Rage's piercing stare.] SR: These are the eyes that have been tortured by visions of demons. I am a man who has been made to suffer ... been made to hurt. I have suffered more in the IIWF than any of you ever had. And let me tell you ... in this battle royal for the coveted Intercontinental Title. Do any of you really think you can beat me? [Fade in: Shadoe Rage stands before the camera, wrapped head to toe in bandages like a mummy, gold necklaces and chains oaround his neck and wrists.] SR: You are in there with _no_ mere man. You are in there with the _Black Jesus_ ... the greatest wrestler on Earth. And I promise you this ... and I promise you that ... there isn't a man woman or child alive on thisplanet that is going to stand in my from obtaining the Intercontinental title. Shadoe Rage has burst through into the upper echelon of the IIWF. Shadoe Rage has broken through and succeeded. And I tell you. I will not fail to capture this belt. I will not. I refuse. And that is what separates me from you. I am not a mere man who has no control over his destiny. Look around you in the IIWF. Look around at everything you see. I am the creator of all that. I am the masterof the Angel of Death drop ... the most athletic ... the most gifted ... the most bloodthirsty competitor on Earth. You cannot stand in my way. You cannot avoid me. You cannot oppose me. The IIWF will be remade in my image. You saw what havoc I could wreak in one single month. Imagine, each and every one of you, what I would do with a title strapped around my waist. And each of you, every challenger, every single man must come through me to achieve greatness. You know what will happen. You will _die in DARKNESS!_ [Fade out] [Fade in to the cafeteria on the ground floor of the IIWF Towers. The collective forces of the NorthPac Coalition, "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner, "Constable" Tom Turner and "The Immolator" Akira Saito, are sitting at one of the tables dining on what seems to be light sandwiches and salads. As the cameraman gets closer we can pick up thier conversation.] CTT: Just as long as we get things done! I don't care about pension plans and benefits! TNT: Don't worry. Daniel will come around and then you will be...oh! It looks the folks at Countdown want to hear what I think about the battle royal on Saturday. CM: If you didn't mind. TNT: Not at all. Things are changing very quickly in the IIWF, and that goes just as well for me. When I first came into this league I was cocky and arrogant. I thought I was so good that I left my good friend Akira behind...just so I could shine in the greatest venue I could imagine. Sure, it worked for a time. Kevin Christiensen and Ryan Howard fell to the wayside and I started to hear the cheers of the fans. I even beat Derek Mota and won the Cruiserweight title! [Turner's head drops for a second.] AS: Then you lost focus. TNT: Exactly. The belt became more important than the accomplishment. I openly dodged challengers and did more to damage the credibility of the title than Musashi could do in two lifetimes. I'm just happy that there is a derserving champ now. [He pokes at his salad for a second and then looks back into the camera.] TNT: A funny thing happened while I fought Andrew Macbeth, though. I was re-made. I climbed back from the depths of depression. I battled overwhelming odds. I beat him. CTT: Despite what some timekeeper said. TNT: Well, I know I won. The best part about it was that the fans know I won. I had never been so happy to hear such cheers! Most of my dark days were erased. Not that title reign though. I want to show that I can be a fighting champion. I want to stand up and take on all comers. To do that...first I need that title. There are some worthy challengers in the field, though. I know how tough Derek is and Shadoe proved himself at Ring Wars. I just wish Jim Steele had been banished from the league as he deserved to be after murdering the Gaines baby. There is no place in the ring for him. AS: Focus. TNT: Sorry, Akira. I'm not so full of myself to say I will beat all the other participants but I will say I'll be in the final batch. I'll make the tournament and then we'll take it one match at a time. [The cameraman starts to lower the camera as we hear one last comment.] TNT: Thanks for coming out. Say hi to Rusty and Larry for me. [Fade] [The camera opens on the outdoors scene of the IIWF arena, and standing in the parking lot is a lone figure. The shot zooms in to reveal itself to be the southern wrestler known as Christopher Stonebreaker, dressed in an all black outfit, all the way down to his cowboy boots. The wrestler stares at the building, before turning around to face the camera.] CS: This is where it started. The career of the Rajun Cajun in the IIWF. Not on some whirlwind tour of the world, and not some backstreet alley, smoke-filled gaming hall. Right here at the Portland Coliseum. And this Saturday night, the opportunity for the Rajun Cajun is there to do what only so many others dream about, and that is to walk out of that building. [Chris turns and points to the Coliseum before turning back to the camera] Wearing the gold strap. Well, there's only one problem with that. I've got a hell of a lot of gold that I can carry around, but you don't see it on me, do you? Why? Because when I came into the IIWF I didn't come here for titles or the prestige. I came here to take on the best the wrestling world had to offer in this sport. And what happens? I run into a man known as Luke "the Real Deal" Steele. A man who came at _me_ with a metal bucket one night. And all of the sudden, every time I turn around, I'm the one that gets accused of starting this little argument. And now, it seems that you, Mox, T, Mota, and everyone else seems to want us to think that you're the good guys in this organization. Well, I sure as hell ain't convinced. You can run around in your fancy group and claim you got everybody on your side, but take a look back Steele. Take a look back T, take a look back at Wembley Stadium and this "hero" group of yours. I went into Ring Wars willing to settle this man on man with you, Steele. But that wasn't enough for you. Oh yes, I went into knowing what you were likely to do. Knowing that you were going to put that metal canister to use. And now... Now you want me to believe that you and the Discordiacs are the heroes in all this? You boys might have stopped all this in-fighting of yours and put aside your differences, but you and I Steele, we ain't finished. And that means if I have to go through Mota, Moxy, T, even that big mammoth bodyguard... I am going to go through each and everyone of them to you. [Chris begins to turn to make his way up toward the building, but stops, and turns his attention back to the camera one last time.] CS: And T, I heard your "promise" about carrying Steele to that Intercontinental Championship this Saturday. Well, I'm making one promise right here, right now, and only one. I'm going to make sure damn well that the Discordiacs ain't get their hands on that piece of gold, and I will do whatever it takes. And when I step in the ring Saturday night, you boys best remember one fact. The good guys don't always wear the white hats. J'vais te Briser!!! [Fade] [Scene: "Real Deal" Luke Steele's New York City apartment. It's the same loft apartment we've seen a few times in the past, and the camera pans across the wall to an entertainment unit that holds a 35 inch television set, a VCR, and a telephone. We see Luke Steele sitting down on a black leather couch, wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of shorts that accentuate his muscular legs. Steele picks up the remote control and presses play on the VCR, which begins to churn to life. On the screen, we see "Sychosys" Joe Petrow in his interview from Musings.] JP: ...Then we got the Discordiacs, led by little Moxy Blue. What a fitting leader. A misfit amongst misfits, a loser amongst losers, a man who despite all the originality he claims to possess has recycled the oldest angle in the book. Well Moxy, you do your damnedest! You send all your thugs out to try and take care of us, because kiwi knows the Down Boys can't do it by themselves. [Cut back to Steele.] LS: You know Petrow, the suits better be paying you a salary based per word you utter, because if it's any other way than that, you're getting ripped off pal. Joe Petrow, the man who loves to run his mouth off. You have the audacity to call the Discordiacs boring? Sychosys, they should call you Comatosys, for all the people you put to sleep. Baby dolls, wanna know the real reason Joe Petrow's a tag team champion? It's because he couldn't cut it as a singles wrestler. Requiem's gotta be laughing at you know, Joe. Ring Wars V was the beginning of the Discordiacs era in the Double Eye, and with that brings Steele era of the Intercontinental title. I'd like to start off by thanking Simon LeBec and Duncan MacBeth for playing "Can you top this?" and in the process holding the belt up for a real champion. Duncan, you might own a few wins over me, but you can't look at yourself in the mirror and say that they were all clean wins. You were a paper champion who finally ran into a big bottle of white-out. Speaking of white-out, anyone else think LeBec emptied a bottle up his nose before that match? Okay, history is history. This Saturday Night, the main event is a battle royal, with the prize being a shot at the IC belt tournament. And the Real Deal intends fully to be a part of that tournament. 11 other wrestlers to tune up the Floating DDT on, and a fellow Discordiac. Mota, I can't say I wish you luck in winning the battle royal, but here's hoping you at least get into the tourney. I'm sure the other Discordiacs are cheering us both on too. [As if on cue, the phone rings, and Steele's answering machine picks up. After the message plays through, the voice of one Richard "Moxy" Blue can be heard.] RMB: Hey Luke! Where are ya? We've gotta get together and compare notes, mon ami. You know, tete a' tete? Come on, pick up Luke! Derek's here, and- OW! [The muffled voice of Moxy coupled with another voice in the background, presumably Mota's, begins to shout and plead.] Well, I guess we'll see you on Saturday. Au revoir. [Click. Steele rolls his eyes at the answering machine.] LS: Sometimes it just doesn't pay to roll out of bed. I never shoulda given him my home phone number. [Fade.] [A black figure kneels in the distance. The figure straightens, having laid a bouquet of fresh cut yellow roses on a grave. The figure is Jim Steele [The Meatman], clad in a black Armani suit and tie. One arm is in a sling. He faces the camera. His eyes are bloodshot, his face is a wild growth of beard.] JS: The screams of the pigs, the cows, and the chickens -- givin’ way to the pitiful cry of a baby. A son. A future Gaines family wrassler... who got... [wipes a tear] the big count out in the sky afore he could even strap on his first pair of baby boots. [Somberly] I wish you comfort in your grief, Gaines family. [Jim leaves the gravesite, approaches the camera. His voice descends to a sub-voco growl.] Gaines, ya air your dirty laundry in front of millions of wrasslin’ fans and ya drag Steele Family farms into it? I call that slander! And ya feed wood grain alcohol marinated meat to a pregnant woman? I call that natooral selecshun! [He rips the sling off his arm.] I’m Jimmy "the Meatman" Steele. Now ya’ know. I ain't no costumed clown, and I ain't no idjit as you say. I’m in it for true. Insult me? I hurt ya. Hurt me? I wound ya. Wound me? I maim. Maim me? Well.... [He bursts the suit coat open. His blood spattered apron lies underneath.] Ya coulda had the white meat, Gaines; but ya asked fer the dark... now, you say let you know if I want more? I want it! I’m lettin! I’m messin! [Jerks his head away and comes back calmer.] Spreadbury told me ta lay off. Even my more tender cutlets are sayin’ "Meaty. Ya stuck a fork in his life -- ain't he done yet?" Mebbe. Mebbe some things are bigger’n a victory. Maybe death itself is bigger’n the ‘thrill a hickory, and the agony of da Meat’. So, Gaines; ya got the win. Ya needed it. And maybe what happened, took me back a step or two. So, what the hell. I hear ya fergive me. Smart move, Gaines. We’re even. Now -- try ta ferget me. [Fade to black: fade in montage of 16mm b&w film clips. A young, slim, Jim Steele bounces a ball to a 3 yr. old Meatboy/ The Meatboy blows out five candles on a birthday cake/ Jim holds the Meatboy afloat in the ocean, teaching him to swim/ The Meat, his wife Elsie, and the Meatboy, frolic on the beach/ Freeze frame/ Superimpose title: R.I.P Justin Lawrence Gaines 16 March 1998 - 16 March 1998.] [Fade up on a wide shot of the Giant Wheel in Wildwood, NJ. Pan down to reveal "Vagabond" Chris Staley sitting on a bench in front of the ride. He has his leather jacket on and has his chin on his hands. He sits silent, staring ahead and pondering. Suddenly, he breaks his silence.] CS: Easter. A time of family. A time of joy. A time of changing seasons. And just like those very same changing seasons, the tides of the IIWF change with the arrival of Chris Staley. Don't expect another Battalion or Alex Rio. I am here to twist your minds and smash your dreams. And that I shall do until the ends of time. Now, I see that I have been thrown to the lion's den already. I am in a ring with many men battling for their worthless lives. I don't expect to win. I just expect to take out 23 years of pain out on those who oppose me. I expect to have people, when all is said and done, to cower in fear at the mere mention of my name. I EXPECT ALL OF YOU TO FEEL THE PAIN OF 10,000 TOMORROWS! YOU WILL KNOW MY PAIN AND SMILE ITS BLACKTOOTHED GRIN!! YOU WILL FEEL THE WRATH OF A MAN SCORNED JUST SO YOU CAN HAVE YOUR [BLEEP]IN' FUN! Hope you have a tombstone ready. Your life expectancy just went down. And there is NO.....WAY.....OUT! Have a bad day. Hope you rot in hell. [Chris shoves the cameraman back and walks away. The cameraman can be heard saying that he "needs a payraise to work with these nutjobs!" Fade.] [The camera fades in on an overhead view of Charles Scheffield walking through a grassy field apparently at about four o'clock in the afternoon. He is wearing his stnadard attire save for the sports coat. Currently, his hair is tied back in a small, thin pony tail which is being whipped about in the cool spring breeze. The grassy hills surrounding this walking path give a sence of tranquility... a sense that one is far removed from the hustle and bustle of modern day life... but for Scheffield... this is likely not enough. The camera fades to a closer shot of Scheffield, slowly walking along with his hands behind his back. Rather than the almost seemingly arrogant Scheffield that everyone is used to, his head is hung in retrospect... thinking about the events that have led up to where he is now. The expression on his face shows perhaps a bit of regret... longing for a life he could have had... but threw away. That shot fades to a side shot looking down at him as he continues pacing the green field as he raises his head with dignity... persistent to forget life's drudgery. It is as if he is willing himself to be what he must be... and to accept what he is. The screen fades to another fairly high arial shit of Scheffield walking along the greenery... but this time he is walking to the edge of a cliff... where one can see the waves of the ocean breaking on the shore. On this particular day the ocean seems quite robust with strength, white foam riding atop the crest of each and every wave as they crash with surprising ferocity against the mainland. Scheffield, however, is paying no heed to the inspiring sight... he is looking off in the distance... trying to see his future. This time the camera fades to a frontal view of Scheffield. His statuesque appearance almost makes one wonder if he will ever move again... he looks to be quite rigid. However, he looks toward the camera and begins to speak.] CSc: Quite a fine day, isn't it? It's a fine day for a fight I should say. I can feel the blood pumping through my veins... willing me on to victory. Yes... there is to be a battle soon. I face incredible odds stacked against me as this is a battle royal matchup... and the prize to be had at the end is quite... unimaginable. [Pause.] You see, everyone looks to myself... Charles Scheffield... and asks, "When shall you hold gold in the IIWF? When shall you be a _true_ contender?" What should I say to such a thing? That I am the best ever? That there is no competition for me here? That I could handle them all? _NO_! I shall not blind myself that way. I cannot safely say that the likes of Shadoe Rage or Marty Warnett are easy pickings for a technical wizard such as myself in a matchup of these proportions. This isn't even my kind of match... when I am in one-on-one competition... that is when I can give these people a good show... but I have to admit that the odds are stacked against me. I know that the "Wrestle Clean" campaign has spawned enemies throught the IIWF against us... so we shall be the main targets. Which reminds me... do I think that a battle royal is necessarily a good "Wrestle Clean" device? No. Will I wrestle clean during the match? Well, depending on your own personal definition of the phrase... it could be yes, or it could be no. My personal definition is that "Wrestle Clean" means to wrestle within the rules. After the match ends... the fighting should stop. Now, since a battle royal has few rules... there isn't much to break. That means yes... you shall perhaps see a side of Scheffield that you never see. Believe it or not... but there is room in my soul for a beast... and I shall unleash that beast upon the unsuspecting wrestlers of the IIWF... in that battle royal. [Scheffield has a rather grave and serious look on his face at this point.] Now finally... do _I_ really believe this will be my time to shine? Do _I_ really think the night belongs to me? Do I honestly believe that I have any right to be in the ring along with these other athletes? Do I truly believe that this is my big break when I shall finally break away from the pack and have my chance to show the world what a technical masterpiece can accomplish? [Pause.] Well, my friends... the answer is simple... and that answer is no. I realize that it may seem as if I am "selling out" by saying that because many people expect that I am a future great in the IIWF... but increasingly I am beginning to believe that I am simply... a waste of space. [The look on his face melts to a slight hint of melancholy... yet remains amazingly stoic.] I have _never_ been a truly arrogant man. I have pride. Yet I still cannot bring myself to blindly believe that this is my time. I am wealthy... but I am not a greedy man. I know my limits! I also know that the world is perhaps not ready for the likes of me. In any case... for those of you betting on Scheffield winning this battle of strength... and I know there are a surprising amount of you... forget it. You are wasting your money. [Now a hint of vigor gleams in his eyes.] But shall I just give up and _let_ this all happen? [A wry grin forms upon his countenance.] Not on your life! Carry on! [The screen fades yet one last time to the high arial view of a jovial Charles Scheffield as he walks away regally into the afternoon sun. After a few seconds, the shot fades away.] [Scene: Blackness. The words "IIWF RING WARS V" flash on screen, then disappear into blackness. With a flash of light, a quick, one second shot appears on screen accompanied by a loud gunshot sound. The image can be made to be Mad Dog Watkins being gutwrench suplexed off a scaffold. The words "DESCENT INTO HELL" follow into blackness. Another brilliant flash of color accompanied by another gunshot, with Annis himself falling down off the scaffold. More images shoot on screen. A hand shooting up through the pile of tables. Watkins being bodyslammed into a garbage can. Annis chugging a beer. Mad Dog smashing a beer keg over Serge's head. Larry Morton begins a voice over amongst the footage.] VO: It was billed as a Descent into Hell... and it was nothing less than a hellacious war... [More footage. Watkins is sent into the elevator control panel. Annis missing a splash hitting a stack of wooden pallets. The bloody shoulder of Serge. Watkins having a janitor's door slammed repeatedly into his head. Watkins throwing cleansing powder into the face of Serge.] VO: All of their hatred would be released in this match... and only one man would survive... or so it seemed.... [More clips. The cleansing powder sticking to Annis' bloody shoulder. Mad Dog ramming a bucket over Serge's head. Annis delivering a back body drop into a urinal. Hugo Hugo opening the door marked basement. Suddenly, the clips all slow down as it shows Annis and Mad Dog each barreling through the dark doorway, down the stairs.] VO: ...The match was designed so one man could walk away a winner... [A clip of Serge's unconcious body next to Mad Dog's unconcious body, but with his arm draped over the chest of Watkins, getting the three count.] VO: But the winner couldn't walk away at all... [Another clip shows, this one showing Annis and Watkins each being loaded onto sepperate stretchers and carried off side by side to the ambulances.] VO: In a match designed for one man to be left standing... no one stood tall in the end. Both competitors were rushed to the hospital with serious injuries... They say that after a match like this, your whole life is changed... and it seems to have done just that... [A clip of Mad Dog Watkins entering the ring from one of his many IIWF: Saturday Night appearences.] VO: For Mad Dog Watkins, it was his last match contested in the IIWF before the original neck injury that drove Mad Dog out the first time, crept up and stole his career once again... [A clip of a bloody Serge Annis standing with his arm raised at Ring Wars IV.] VO: But what was the effect that it has had on Annis? Is Annis also considering retirement? Or will Serge attempt to rekindle his proffessional dream of being the IIWF World champion? What role will Serge Annis play in the future of the IIWF? It is these kind of questions that Tim Dross asked Serge himself, from his hospital room in the Portland General Hospital, in the special IIWF suite. [The camera fades to black from Annis' picture, and fades into a shot of a moderae sized hospital bedroom. The standard hospital bed, allong with a chair and nightstand next to it, and a television sitting atop a dresser. Tim Dross sits in the chair with his hands in his lap, and clad in an IIWF Ring Wars 5 t-shirt, and blue jeans. A very formal look for the leading color personality in IIWF. The massive form of Serge Annis is seen leaning against a wall on the other side of the room, staring out a window at the view of the parking lot. He is wearing a pair of black sweat pants and his black 'Napalm Enema' t-shirt. There is a small cast on his left wrist. We can only see the back of Annis' head, but if looked at closely, his reflection can be seen in the window, with a small black eye darkening his skin. Serge stares out emotionlessly.] TD: Hello everyone, I am Tim Dross on location right here in the special suite dedicated to the IIWF here in the Portland General Hospital in Portland, Oregon. I am here for a personal, one-on-one interview with "Epitome of Evil" Serge Annis. Mr. Annis, thank you for granting us time from your busy road to recovery. [Dross looks over at Serge, expecting some sort of a response, but Annis continues to stare out.] TD: Mr. Annis? I'd like to thank you for taking time out of your recovery time to speak with us. [Again silence.] TD: Well, I... SA: [interrupting] I've been doing too much thinking in here, Dross. About everything. TD: [confused] Everything? SA: Everything. Mad Dog Watkins. The Universal Wrestling Federation. Bishop. The IIWF World championship. I've taken everything into a new perspective over the last week... [Annis turns his head and looks over at Tim. Instead of the usual scowl on his face though, there is a serious look of questionability, as if he has been thinking too long and hard.] SA: You're welcome for the time Tim Dross... I haven't had much else to do but sit and watch television whilst the nurses remove my bandages and clean my cuts... TD: And from the sounds of things, you've been thinking? SA: Yes, very much so. TD: What about? SA: Everything. Like I just said... everything. Now that I have actually taken the time to sit back... to take a perspective of the direction The Epitome of Evil is headed in the IIWF. [Annis returns his stare to outside the window. The weather does not look very pleasent outside, as the sky is filled with cloud and no sun is in sight. There is a slight pause before anyone speaks. A nurse can be heard off in the distance paging a doctor. Tim finally thinks of something to say.] TD: Well, if you do not mind Serge, I'd like to ask you some questions... [No response.] All right then... What is the extent of your injuries? SA: I have a black eye as you can see... it doesn't hurt though. I broke my left wrist again, and the cast should be off in a few days. Nothing to worry about. I cracked a rib as usual. That won't take much to heal. And I received a laceration on my left shoulder, which is definitely something I am used to, but mind you it did become slightly infected after the cleaning powder worked its toxins inside. But there's nothing I can do about it except live through the pain, just like I always do. TD: Well... hmm... Considering how personal your feud was with Mad Dog Watkins, how does it feel to know that it was your match that put him out of the IIWF? [Annis brings his hand up to his chin and he rests on it.] SA: How do I feel? Well, I am sure you're expecting me to say I enjoy the very thought of Mad Dog Watkins breaking a bone in his body, let alone two or three. You probably think I got some measure of revenge? Well, it felt great when I was ramming Mad Dog's head into that door. When I gutwrenched him off the scaffold itself. At the time, I was loving it... this was the guy that cost me the IIWF World championship... he had Hell to pay. [Annis stops speaking, and just as Dross looks as if he is about to ask another question, Annis turns his head back to Tim and continues speaking.] SA: But you know what Dross? Now that I reflect on it... now that I know that I hurt Watkins so bad that he can't continue... now that I know that I have won... I am feeling something for the first time. [A look of solid, unseen before sincerity moulds onto Serge's face.] SA: I felt remorse for what I did... For the first time ever. I felt bad about what I did to Watkins during the match. And you know what Dross? You know what? [A slight pause.] It scares me. [Annis turns his attention back to the outside world through the window. Dross looks a little taken back from Annis' words.] TD: If you feel bad about it... why did you let it come down to this? Why didn't you stop before it reached this point? Why did... SA: [interrupting] How the Hell was I supposed to know it would ever feel this way? There's no goddamn way. Dross, I've broken people before. I've snapped people's necks. I've put countless names out of wrestling, and never once did I ever think back about it, and never once have I actually felt bad about it... TD: [Still taken back] What prompted this feeling of remorse? SA: Are you some kinda therapist or something? TD: No, I'm here to ask questions. SA: Well frankly... I don't have the answer Dross. I don't know. Maybe it's been the fact that I've been locked up in this hospital room for eight days. Maybe it's the fact that if you look over on that counter there... there is not a single goddamn card or flower or anything from anyone. Not a single one. I just don't know Dross... TD: [Changing topics] Is retirement an issue for Serge Annis? SA: I've considered it... long and hard. [Annis looks back at Dross, and turns around and leans back against the window.] SA: But where would I go Dross? What would I do? Proffessional wrestling is my life. Without the violence inside the squared circle, I am a nobody. Retirement will never be an option for me Dross... I'd have to be a sixty five year old man, being dragged down to the ring in a wheel chair hooked up to a respirator... and that's if I plan to retire early. Serge Annis isn't going anywhere Dross... not yet. I still have things to do. TD: Like what? [Annis turns back around facing out towards the window again.] SA: Like win the world championship. I've done it elsewhere... but I want to do it here. I put up two goals for myself when I first walked into the federation sixteen monthes ago... one was to make a name for myself, and the other was to win the world championship. I've completed my first task, and now I have promised to keep. TD: With all due respect Serge, at the rate you are going, it is in my opinion that you never will actually see the world championship around your waist. [Annis spins his head around, looking back at Dross with a perplexed look.] TD: Let's face it... you've had several shots at the World championship, and during your matches, it was your lack of control... your temper... your desire to hurt, and albeit the help of Mad Dog Watkins, that is why you have yet to see yourself complete that goal. [Dross spots the unpleased look on Serge's face.] But that is just my opinion. [Serge looks interested in this and moves away from the window and sits down on the bed.] SA: No, no, Dross... it isn't just your opinion. You're on a track there that I discovered four days ago. And since then, it's been on my mind. TD: Would you care to enlighten us? SA: Well... I've been thinking... what if all this time, it's been me that's cost me my dream? Forget Mad Dog Watkins and forget Shadoe Rage. Look at Steve Kowalski, and Serge Annis. Kowalski tried three times in Decmeber, and couldnt' do it... and Rumble in the Jungle... well... perhaps it was me. The way I do things. The way I live my life each day. Maybe I, myself, am the only reason I am not the number one wrestler in the IIWF. TD: So what you are saying, maybe it's you that's holding yourself down? SA: You're catching on now Tim. I've realized, during my time here in this very bed, that I can not be capturing the world championship, or any form of a title or big wins, when I am constantly under the watch of the IIWF officials. When I am put on probation. When I cannot walk through the hallways without having to have a personal escort make sure that I will be all right... I'm pretty sure Steve Kowalski isn't worrying about these things... maybe it's about time I did something so I can stop worrying myself? TD: This... this fixation of yours, with the IIWF World title. What is it about? SA: It's all personal, Dross. It's nothing against Kowalski or anybody. There are several factors... he main one was that I swore at my Mother's grave that I would win her that gold. I don't break my promises unless my promises will break me. I've finally garnished an ounce of credability now... and what better way to top it off than by being world champion? [A slight pause] I'd like to take the final step away from the shadow that Requiem cast upon me and Genesis. There is no one else left... and I want to show to the world that Genesis was at the very least, a two man tool. Me and Requiem. No one will believe me untill I have that gold. [Serge gets back up as he talks and wanders back to his window to stare out it again.] TD: What is going on through your mind right now Serge? SA: ...a war. [Silence.] TD: What does this all mean then? SA: It means it is time for things to change... it's time to change roles. If I want to complete my goals, I have to do, what I have to do get to it. From now on, things are going to be different Dross... there's no real way to explain things. It's just time for a change... and it's going to happen. I can feel it... I know it... I've plotted it. [Serge hangs down his head, as if in a state of mental pain.] TD: I suppose we'll all just have to find that out for ourselves then. [Annis does not lift his head.] TD: I suppose we should close thing here... [Silence.] TD: Well, thank you once again Mr. Annis. It's actually been... [Sounding surprised...] ...a pleasure. [Tim gets out of his chair and Serge brings his hand to his forehead and squeezes it. Dross points to the cameraman to open the door. As Tim and the cameraman leave, Serge's voice can be heard muttering...] SA: It's time... for a change. [Fade to black.] [SCENE: Tim Dross, bald pate glittering in the lighting stands outside a locker room at the IIWF Training facility, beside an open door. ] TD: Folks, today I'm going to try to catch an interview with the Party Maniac, Marty Warnett, who has been fairly silent in recent weeks. What's happening with 4-D? What are his goals? [The camera pans around, through the open door Marty can be seen with his back to the camera, talking into a mobile phone. The sound mic picks up the conversation...] MW: Hey, Gregg, that's a dumbass idea ... me and him, fighting with mobile phones? I don't care if the marketing people do wanna label it "Hell with the Cellphone", it's stupid. Am I supposed to develop a back injury? Sheesh ... No, no, no! I'm not going to unveil a secret cousin who was hideously burnt in a bizarre industrial cleaning accident. You can seriously forget wearing a mask and being billed as Quigley. TD: Ahem. [Marty turns round.] MW: We'll talk about that image makeover later ... and no, I am NOT going to wear a clown suit ... Sorry Tim, urgent negotiations, y'know? Kinda like when you lost the rug. TD: Yes ... okay, Marty, you've been quiet lately. Why? MW: Well, when you live in the fast lane, you kinda appreciate having the time to take things slow. When you have psycho ex's out there who can't whether or not to have a piece of you, or cut you into pieces ... when the rugby side you love get stuffed not only by the [spits] English, but the FRENCH as well ... when you drink a bad can of Mooselips. You go quiet. TD: Talk about your Ring Wars bout. MW: Rick Williams. A loss. Hey, Chris, I know you hang on my every word, guess what? I jobbed. Basically, we agreed within 4-D that we wanted to throw that elusive curveball ... but for time constraints, it didn't happen one hundred percent, but we achieved our goal of surprising people. That's why I wanted Fitz out there interfering. TD: Speaking of 4-D, ever since you joined our merry little band, you've been on your own ... why join a group? MW: Tim, I've _NEVER_ been on my own, if you know what I mean in a Casey James - JW Hardin - girl scouts manner ... wrestling wise, yes. I mean, you look at the stables in the IIWF, the Syndicate left. Genesis disintegrated. Those Rage guys? They're still around. Put simply, no package appealed to me. Sure, Brian Lau would've LOVED to have me in the Syndicate, because I offer the in-ring and mic skills to be a player ... c'est la vie. Now, when the guys got in touch, I was also approached for the Fabulous Ones. No disrespect, but ... I was fabulous before you guys even heard of the IIWF ... You look at 4-D, and what you see are winners. Fitz, the Preds, World Tag title holders. Me, ex Intercontinental title holder. Winners, guys, to a man. I can walk that walk and talk that talk. Simply put, it appealed to me, putting myself in a setting where I have power to the left of me, power to the right of me, and a showcase for my talent ... TD: At Ring Wars, of course, we also saw the birth of another stable in the IIWF: Discordia. MW: Discordia? What the hell's that? Some cheap second hand record store where some old rasta sells scratched vinyl to support his ganja habit. Sorry, Ike. Backstage, we laughed. I mean, I've seen some beautiful moments in the ring, but, I've never laughed so hard. Who are they? The Waltons on Speed? Sorry, Gregg. Luke "Country yokel appeal" Steele, what, the main man? He only beat me through outside interference. The Discordiacs are wanna-be's, who never will-be. Scratch Mota from that. He's tough. The rest? I don't think so. TD: What are your goals? MW: Gold. Now, you look at the Double Eye: I've beaten the World title holder for gold before. I defended the Intercontinental title, something Macbeth forgot to do ... and I want to settle scores, I mean, I feel awful that Byron interfered against me versus Steele a while ago, I mean, that loss stopped him packing his bags and becoming a porn model ... Speaking of which ... have you noticed, Tim, all our champs seem to have speech problems? I mean, haitches dropped here, there, every damn where ... TD: A big chance, of course, in the battle royal. MW: Battle royals, gold and the Party Maniac. Ring a bell. Me and Fitz, well, we'll work as a team. Whatever happens, happens. TD: Marty, thanks for your time. MW: Always a pleasure, never a chore, I get paid by the word ... [ phone rings ] Excuse me. Hi Gregg. No, dammit, I'm not playing a porn model in IIWF rings ... What do you mean, it's to be a personal performance? [Fade to black.] [It is night. In the distance, there is the faint rumble of thunder as rain falls onto the ground. The ground in strewn with muddy puddles as the wind causes small children's rides to creak and whine in the night air. Another clap of thunder and the flash from a bolt of lightning briefly illuminate the area. Suddenly, this place looks all too familiar.] VOICE: I can't believe that we're at this place again. [A cloaked figure dashes in front of the camera. The rain slides down the slick surface of the person's attire as he or she dives for cover from the rain in the shelter of a dilapidated hot dog stand. The figure cowers as another roll of thunder shakes the area, then runs towards a big building in the distance.] VOICE: Oh geez! [The figure enters the building, a large run down mansion with the words "HOSE OF FEAR" written in big letters on the sign above the door. Upon entering the building and shutting the door... We are taken inside where the small figure in an oversized raincoat is slumped up against the door, breathing heavily. The person starts fumbling with the raincoat and takes it off... It's Comedy, soaked to the skin. Her hair hangs down about her and her jovial clown makeup is running slightly. However, she doesn't appear to happy to have had to run through the rain to get here.] COMEDY: *pant* *pant* Of all the... [Comedy storms down the hall, her boots sloshing and leaving puddles on the floor as she comes upon a door at the end of the hallway. She slowly opens the door and peeks inside.] COMEDY: Oh, there you are! [Comedy swings to door open to a room that is lit only by the images coming off a small television set at the side. In the center of the room stands Tragedy, or so it seems. His back is to us. Comedy marches right up to him, still dripping wet. She places her hands on her hips.] COMEDY: You better have a good explanation for why you are back at this place! [From the TV] TD: Bringer just knocked... No, wait, he pulled him back up! He reaches over and pulls Tragedy towards him. What is he...? COMEDY: Are you listening to me? I thought you got rid of this place a year ago. [From the TV] TD: Oh my! Oh my! Surely not! [From the TV] SR: Aw, I's gettin' a bad feeling about this, baby dolls! [From the TV] TD: Surely he's not... oh, this is bad! COMEDY: Look, I know you're a little steamed about the match. But ever since you got out of the hospital you've been... [From the TV] TD: Oh my! The ladder -- the ladder is wobbling... it's teetering... [From the TV] SR: Timber! [Slowly, Tragedy turns to face his wife. His features are still hidden in the shadows in the room, but from the look on Comedy's face, she seems to be very happy.] COMEDY: Honey, is that a new look? [From the TV] TD: Deathbringer is at the top! Chaos is in the ring! He grabs the ladder! Too late! 'Bringer has a death grip on the mask! He falls... WITH THE MASK! It's over! It's ov... [Tragedy turns off the TV set.] TRAGEDY: I've been to the other side my dear. COMEDY: Huh? TRAGEDY: This entire ordeal, the mask, the pain, it has brought me closer to my destiny. COMEDY: Okay... Pooky, you are starting to scare me. [Tragedy puts his fingers to Comedy's lips.] TRAGEDY: There is nothing for you to be afraid of my dear. For once my plan is in affect, the world... will be ours. COMEDY: Ha ha ha ha! Oh honey! You're the best! [Comedy hugs her husband as the images fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF Cruiserweight Championship Match: Icehawk vs Eddy "Flap" Jacks ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: With the kickoff of the “King of the Cruisers” tournament going on, it’s only fitting to have the Cruiserweight title on the line the same night. I wonder what kind of thoughts you have about this match? MT: Before I get into personal matters, I’d like to say that Icehawk-san is a great cruiserweight, and possibly the finest the IIWF has ever had. However, for the fans of the IIWF, they’re going to see the finest highflyer ever to enter the ring thanks to this tournament. The Kabuki Kid has come along way and wants to show his best to the great fans of the IIWF. So I guess what I’m trying to say is, that as good as Icehawk is, he is merely a small time cruiserweight as long as the Kabuki Kid is wrestling. LM: Well, that’s not quite what I had expected as an answer, but it most definitely has merit, though, I guess only time will tell. Let's hear what the challenger had to say about the big match. VO: It begins today... [CLIP: Eddy Jacks pinning hated rival Zak Rage after a power bomb during a six-man SCRA tag match. The referee moves to raise Eddy’s hand, but Jacks, belt in hand, locks on a full nelson...a crowd chant of “IHOP! IHOP! IHOP!” rises up through the arena....and Jacks executes the move, the resulting bounce sending the hapless official out of the ring.] One man’s last ride...... [CLIP: Eddy Jacks chops IIWF mainstay Edmund Fitzgerald into a corner during a War Room match. Fitzgerald, furious, charges out, the turnbuckle used to add momentum.....then finds himself locked in an inescapable full nelson.....then a small cry of “IHOP” begins in the cheap seats, the chant growing in volume until it becomes a cacophony of voices...the grim, unified intonation more a realization of the enormity of the moment than actual cheering for Jacks...then Fitzgerald kisses mat as Jacks executes the suplex.] One man’s final shot at ultimate glory..... [CLIP: Eddy Jacks brawls with IIWF great J. W. Hardin at an SCRA house show. Hardin pummels Jacks mercilessly in the corner, but swings wildly and fails to connect with a big roundhouse right...and finds himself captured in a full nelson applied with deadly efficiency by the meaty hands of Jacks. The cry begins. “IHOP! IHOP! IHOP!” The cry grows into a full-fledged chant, a chant adopted by all 14,359 spectators at the Greater Western Forum. Hardin struggles against the hold, but Jacks falls back, his mammoth arms sending the immense “Outlaw” backward, Hardin’s hands flailing wildly in an attempt to buffer his fall....to no avail.] One man’s last shot at redemption..... [CLIP: Damien Lestat flattens Jacks with “Mr. Coolie” on IIWF Wednesday War Room...then scampers away to the security of the shuffleboard deck. Jacks raises himself up, gathers his dignity....and thrusts his arms skyward. “IHOP! IHOP! IHOP!”] One man’s farewell tour... [The camera slowly fades to darkness, beginning a transition from trailer to physical interview.] [SCENE: Slow fade-in to a battered locker room.....torn posters line the walls....twin rows of rusty, careworn lockers stand opposite one another like ancient guardians of a forgotten past..... The camera pans around the locker room slowly, at last focusing on a weathered poster with the words “EDDY JACKS: 1986 CANADIAN TOUGHMAN” written on it in crude bold stenciling...under which Eddy Jacks, attired in faded red boxer’s trunks and a white “IIWF” t-shirt, sits.] EJ: I ain’t ‘fraid ta admit it. I ain’t what I used ta be. Ring Wars proved that. [Pause.] I’m_a_helluva_lot_better. [Pause. Jacks looks up at the poster, contemplative.] Maybe I fergot the glory days. Maybe I fergot the fans watched me every step o’ the way. But maybe I didn’t. They chant “skull-pump”...they chant “IHOP”....hell, they even chant “cattlebuster”. Ain’t like it matters. Just stupid garbage the marks like ta say after they gots a few beers in ‘em. I been hookin’ on the full nelson an’ leanin’ back since God knows when. An’ it ain’t often I heard somebody say that move don’t hurt. But that don’t matter right now. ‘Cuz_now_it’s_time. Time ta be a hero, time ta be a villain, time ta get cheered...an’ time ta become a legend. It’s make or break time, buckos, an’ Eddy Jacks is gonna make it. I been a champ. I been a contender. I been beat. I been dead an’ buried. But now I’m alive an’ well. 98’s my last ride...or that’s what I’m sayin’ now. I been sayin’ IIWF’s my last place. I wouldn’t ‘ave wanted it any other way, eh. [Pause.] It’s time ta cap the career. It’s time ta take stock... an’ believe me...I got more’n a few scores left ta settle. I beaten some o’ the best. Maybe I ain’t beaten the best o’ the best. But I got time left. I’m givin’ myself a year. [Pause.] I ain’t been dee-clared the world’s pre_eminent super heavyweight for nothin ’. An’ I see pretenders. I see big, goofy guys like Jimmy Steele. I see freaky scum like Deathbringer. An’ then I give a little chuckle. ‘Cuz, ya see... [Jacks winks] ...it’s all kind o’ funny. Ain’t no amount o’ stupidity that makes up fer bein’ a bad wrestler. [Pause.] If I ain’t satisfied, I’ll come back. I’ll come back ‘til I got everythin’ in order. [Pause.] They say I got a shot at any title I want. Who do I want? I don’t want Kowalski. I know my place. Nah...I’m gonna eat Icehawk fer lunch. Ya heard right, the see-dubba-u champ. An’... [Smirks] I’m gua-ran-teein’ m’self a victory. [Pats his gut] A_belt’s_a_belt. Even if it’s a small belt. Even if it’s a belt that ain’t gonna fit. Even if it’s a belt that’s worn by the al_mighty friggin’ Icehawk. Ask ol’ Edmund Fitzgerald how I sunk his damn ship. Ask Ike Sampson how I deep-freezed his ass. An’ Icey...don’t ferget ta ask ‘em how ya handle a righteously_goddamn_indignant 398-pound Canadian. [Scratches his beard] Stumped? There ain’t no way. Little man, yer a big ol’ rooty-tooty fresh an’ fruity special..an’ big ol’ Mr. Jacks is mighty_damn_hungry. [Pause.] Things ain’t in order right now. Things ain’t right. But they will be. An ’ then I’ll go away. An’ then I’ll be remembered. [The camera pans back from Jacks, allowing the viewer to take in a final full shot of the locker room. As the screen begins to fade, a slow chant can be heard in the background....soft at first, but growing in intensity. “IHOP! IHOP! IHOP!” Fade.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The King of the Cruisers Tournament: El Hijo del Satanico vs. Tiger Claw "Sanguinary" Steve Manning vs. Shawn Harrison "Playboy" Ronnie D vs. "Superior" Sean Stevens Kabuki Kid vs. "Iconoclast" Sean Watts ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: What an amzing opportunity the IIWF fans have! We will see the greatest Cruiserweights in our sport compete to see who is truly the best! The first two of those listed matches takes place tomorrow night on IIWF Saturday Night while the other two take place on SJPW Ring Wars! I almost wish we had either Tom Turner or Akira Saito in here tonight since they compete in that excellent federation. Luckily we have someone who is closely associated with a wrestler who not only competes in SJPW but is in the King of the Cruisers tournament as well! Speaking of the KotC. How about two of the first round matches. First is the big one, for long time IIWF fans, the return of Tiger Claw. He’ll do battle with El Hijo del Satanico. MT: Great match up, but in the end it’ll be Tiger Claw-san. LM: I hear you know a lot about Tiger Claw. MT: This is very true Morton-san. Tiger-kun and the Kabuki Kid have laced their boots against one another in the SJPW, and after the first round ends, I expect them to do it again for the IIWF. LM: Who won the first meeting? MT: Kabuki Kid. LM: It looks as though there’s already some bad blood going on in this tournament. Lets not forget that both Tiger Claw and the Kabuki Kid have major opponent they have to beat before stepping into the second round. Also as part of the first round tournament, we’ll see the IIWF’s own “Sanguinary” Steve Manning face Shawn Harrison. This should be a good match. Both competitors are evenly matched, thought I suspect that Manning wil have the homefield advantage. MT: Wise words for the host of the “Countdown” show. LM: Thank y... Domo arigato, Mr. Tsuburaya-san. MT: You can call me Eiji. LM: Domo arigato Mr. Eiji-san. MT: [Rolls his eyes.] It’s Eiji-kun, and you don’t have to call me mister. LM: Oops, sorry. Domo Arigato Eiji-kun. MT: To follow up what you were saying about the home crowd advantage. The Kabuki Kid will also have to battle this as well. With Tiger Claw, Manning, and Icehawk-san all competing in this tournament, he has a lot to overcome. But, unfortunately for all the competitors, Kabuki Kid can more than surpass these odds. LM: Let's hear from not only the competitors in these match-ups but some from the entire tournament. [SCENE: The empty IIWF Coliseum in Portland Oregon. The ring stands, already set up in the middle of the arena. The crowd barriers lie on the floor, allowing a cleaning crew to move freely from section to section sweeping up snack wrappers, empty beer cups, and discarded signs. As the camera pans across the vast banks of empty seats, the shot falls upon Tiger Claw, dressed in jeans, combat boots, and a plain white T-shirt. He sits in the second row, his feet up on the back of the first row seat in front of him.] TC: So... I'm back... Back home, some might say. Good to see the security still remembers me. Back to the house that I was forced out of. A house I helped to build. A house that looks... well, quite a bit different now... [Claw looks around the Coliseum] TC: Nothing a coat of paint won't fix. It's been almost seven months since I competed here officially... I prefer to think of it as a year since I actually offered any competition here. A lot of things can happen behind the scenes that affect a person's performance in the ring. A simple affiliation can change a man's drive from being unstoppable to willing to make compromises. Yeah, I worked for a company, and took some pride in that... That was then... Now, I don't take pride in any of that. What I do take pride in is what I do for myself. The accomplishments I've made. The careers I've ended. I take pride in the fact that I'm myself this time around, and not some character. The name's the same, but this is a different guy you're looking at. I'm not some guy with an angle. I'm not some guy who wrestles in the name of fresh produce, or a guy with an affinity for fire, or a raving lunatic who makes friends with preliminary stars because he can't stand to be surrounded by guys better than him. I'm a guy who's simply learned fighting techniques, who during his career, has travelled from city to city, learning all he can, so that he can become the best in the world. Just a regular guy who just happened to have the guts to take the first step and put his life into his craft... Fighting. So, my travels from city to city, to prove that I am what I say I am, have brought me here, to the King of Cruiserweights tournament. My travels have brought me face to face with the Son of Satan. Satanico seems to think that it's his destiny to beat me. See, Hijo, destiny can be a dangerous thing... A man can figure it's his destiny to be something or to do something, and he figures he's got it locked, so maybe he doesn't try as hard. Maybe he goes into the ring, not worried about defeat at all, figuring that it's predetermined that he's going to win. Hell, with some of the stuff I've seen in this sport, in this very building, he could very well be right. Nah... Not this time. This time, it's me and you, skill against skill, man against man, right there in the ring. [Claw points up to the ring] That ring, right there... You want to know where my _home_ is, Satanico? That ring is my home. That stretched canvas over wood surrounded by three ropes on every side. That's where I do my work _and_ play. Once I get into that ring, Satanico, you're going to see just what I mean. That's _my_ turf. That's _my_ house. I don't let anyone take advantage of me in _my_ house... Not any more. Don't feel the need to apologize for what you're going to do on Saturday Night, Satanico, unless it's apologizing to the ring crew for staining the mat. No dreams are going to be shattered other than yours, little man. Apologize to yourself for putting so much weight into your self imposed destiny. What have you got to offer? You're the son of a great man. That doesn't mean a lot to me. Plenty of sons shame their fathers. Me? I've held the IIWF's Intercontinental title three times, more times than anyone else. I've been one half of the IIWF World tag team champions, one of the few men to have held both singles and tag IIWF titles in their career. One of those other men is Casey James, the man who became the IIWF World champion because of what he learned from _me._ Personally, I think that's rather impressive. Destiny? No... Momentum. That's what I have on my side. Take a look at your little history books, Satanico, and you'll see that the number one man in the Syndicate is me. Not Lau, not James, not anyone else that has ever been a member. It's been me. I made the decisions. I was the one who made the stable into the force that it became. Don't fool yourself. James might have won the greater prizes, but he'll be the first to tell you that without me, he'd still be as lost as the day when I brought him in. I don't expect you to understand. You don't have to. All you have to do is get into the ring, and try and last as long as you can against my onslaught. It's that simple... [Claw gets up out of the seat and stretches his legs.] Oh yeah... I like the shirt... "I represent myself"... It's pretty catchy... Tell you what... Tomorrow night, in our first round match, I'll bring you a shirt that I think you'll like... A gift... From me to you. It's the least I could do after I break your neck. [With that, Claw turns from the camera, and walks around the ring to the aisleway. He walks up to the head of the aisle, turns, looks down the length of it to the ring, and nods. The shot fades as he turns once again and walks through the curtain.] [Scene fades in on a normal beach in Mexico. The ocean is calm, and there is nobody on the beach. It is apparently the beginning of the day, as the sun rises above the ocean. A voice breaks the calm.] VOICE: The King, Tiger Claw? Already? I feel you're getting just a little too far ahead of yourself. You have to go through _this_ first... [Scene switches to the cold city of Portland, where El Hijo Del Satanico sits in the center of a wrestling ring, presumably inside the IIWF Coliseum. He is seated on the top turnbuckle.] EHDS: Before you go declaring yourself the King of the Cruiserweights, Claw, you must make it through me... you must get past this. And the problem is a lot greater than your mind may believe. Claw, you're coming back to your old stomping grounds... and suddenly, all the pressure is on you. It's your own fault. You're the guy they're all familiar with, the former Intercontinental Champion, very recently the former tag team champion, member of the Syndicate... what are they going to think, Claw, when you get beat by someone that they've never even seen in action before? What will they think then? The self-professed King of Cruisers... taken to the cleaners by a five foot, eight inch tall, less than two hundred pound Mexican Jumping Bean? They're gonna see a FRAUD, Claw. [EHDS laughs] EHDS: In this first round match, I'm out to expose you. I'm out to prove you're nothing but a fast talking _fraud_, much like Brian Lau himself. You've picked up too much for your own good, and now you think you're going to make it on your own. I'm sorry to have to ruin all that fun for you, Claw, but it's just NOT going to happen. The fact that you want to be alone at the time of this tournament is more than a coincidence, and we all know it. It's what's convenient, as always. Always looking for that edge... too bad you won't be getting it. I'll show you _why_ you're not the best, Claw. I'll show you _why_ you can't handle me, Claw... and I'll show you why all of your cockiness is merely for naught. The year of the Tiger, son? Not when you fight the son of Satan... it is _always_ the year of my father, Claw. It is always the year of the man who could own you with a snap of his fingers... it is always the year of Satanico himself... and I shall prove just that. I shall show you why he can own you... and in fact, once I pull off the "upset", as you would call it, in round two, I _will_ show you my father and why he could own you... [snaps fingers] ...like that. [EHDS chuckles] EHDS: The place where dreams are shattered... it's more than just that. This cold chill that runs through the air... the cold winds, are from the heart of the man who is nearest to the devil himself, the man who runs this place, the heartless, cruel man he is. That black hearted man himself will find other things this weekend, however... They will need to turn on the heat in the arena much like they do in Mexico, because the man with the coldest, blackest heart of them all will make his presence known, Claw... better wear a snowsuit, because it's going to be one of those cold days in hell... And judging by what your ego is saying, when the Hell that is "the place where dreams are shattered" has been frozen over, you will be defeated... And the year of the Tiger... will be a shattered dream. I'm sorry I'll have to ruin you like this, Claw... really, I am. [EHDS laughs as we fade.] [SCENE: A grungy looking nightclub scene. A never-will-be alternative band wails in the background. A mist of cigarette smoke hovers around the room. As the camera pans around, it stops, zooming in on a table towards the back, in a dark corner. A solitary man is sitting there, dressed in faded blue jeans and a black t-shirt reading, "King of the Boozers!" A brown bottle of Schooner beer is laying on the table, half full, surrounded by 8 or 9 empty bottles with brandnames such as Jockey Club, Moosehead, Black Horse, and a bottle with a skull and crossbones on the label, titled "Gut-Rot". The young man's face is hidding, as he's looking down towards his chest, lighting a cigarette. Steve Manning looks up at the camera, brushing the hair out of his eyes as he draws back on his smoke. He gives the camera a wondering look, and then shrugs, and beckons. The camera zooms in.] SM: Fancy meetin' you here. [Gets a questioning look on his face.] SM: Do they make ya carry that camera around with you everywhere ya go? Everytime I seeya man, that damn camera is sticking outta one of your eyes, following everyone around, getting stuck in some strange places, just so it looks as if a wrestler is just hangin' out, and not talking to a cameraman. You're the unsung hero of the IIWF, Bob. Can I call ya Bob? Great. [The camera starts to back away from Manning.] SM: Heyheyhey! Wait! Wait just a minute. C'mon back here, Bob. Really, I've got stuff to say. I've got a lot on my mind. [Manning swigs back on his beer.] SM: I guess yer all wondering what it is I'm doin' here. You're prob'ly all thinkin', "Steve Manning? In a run-down, scummy bar? That just doesn't seem right." Well, I'm sorry to shatter the "family man illusions", boys and girls. I've gotta come here to unwind. It's the worst bar in Portland, Oregon, and I call it home. [Manning snaps his fingers, and suddenly a voice yells out from the bar.] BARTENDER: Get you another beer, Steve? SM: Awright... but stop me at one. Hmmmm... make that 1:30. [A few other patrons listening on roar with laughter as Manning smiles, waves, and suddenly catches another beer bottle that comes flying at him from off camera. He twists the cap off with his forearm, and takes another swig of a brand of beer called Hoarsepis.] SM: Y'see... I'm in whatcha might call training for this big deal. The King of the Boozers. I'd say it's about damn time they recognized the drinkin' talents of a few wrestlers in this industry. But... trust me, there ain't anybody in there who can outdrink... wait.... are there any Canadians in this tournament? No matter, I've still got faith in my abilities. [A hand from behind the camera reaches out and passes Steve Manning a sheet of paper with some type-writing on it.] SM: King of the _Cruisers_? Awwww... Jesus H. Christ. How'd I get roped into this thing? Lemme see here... [Manning studies the paper, drawing back on his cigarette.] SM: "Real Deal" Shawn Harrison? Oh yeeeah.... I saw this guy on Musings. I was wonderin' why the hell he was talkin' to _me_. Of course, I was so drunk, _everyone_ on TV was talkin' to me that night. No matter. [Manning belches.] SM: So it's me and you, eh Harrison? Let me just ask you a few quick questions. I guess the first one would have to be... who the _hell_ are you? I'm gettin' the impression that you think you gotta shot in hell of pinnin' me or... MAKIN' ME SAY "I QUIT"?! [Manning slams his beer bottle down on the table so hard, it shatters, a mixture of blood and spilt beer now covering his hand.] SM: Fat chance of that happening. Fat [BLEEP]in' chance. You don't know me, Harrison. I guess you're a stickler for that old sayin', "What you don't know, can't hurt you." Well, lemme fill you in. I'm the man who electrocuted a dead guy. I'm the man who literally _rolled_ into the IIWF, and fooled anybody who bothered to give a damn about the whole thing, and... some might say I'm the man who ruined the career of an IIWF legend. Maybe two, if you count Petrow as a legend. He's gone off to the IIWF Tag Team roster, otherwise known as the Witness Protection Program. But Harrison... I'm not one to brag. [Manning finishes his cigarette and puts it out in his bloody hand, flicking the butt onto the floor.] SM: Braggin' about dirty deeds is something I'll leave to the cold hearted. I, on the other hand, don't have a heart at all. [Manning gets a wild spark in his eyes.] SM: But you'll soon find that out for yourself. You'll find out a _lot_ of things about me... and about yourself. The colour of our blood mixed together. Your absolute threshold to pain. The sound of the squeal you'll make when you cry out in the middle of a crowded arena, "GET OFFA ME!!!! GET OFFA ME!!!" [Manning leaps up and kicks over his table, sending the bottles and the glass ashtray smashing to the ground, and silencing the band.] SM: But at least it'll be a _learning_ experience. It'll build character, Shawn. [Manning starts to laugh a little demonically, as every eye in the bar is looking up at him, the room absolutely reeking with intimidation. The camera begins to fade out as Manning is heard asking the cameraman, "I think I know the rest of these guys but... who the _hell_ is Ronnie D?" Fade.] VOICE: There are few times in one's life when the rest of the world aches to reach your status and all try to bring you down. Feels good to be on top, don't it? [Scene opens with the simple block lettering of "UEW" in bold black, obviously plastered onto a t-shirt. The camera pans out to reveal the figure wearing that shirt. It just happens to be the UEW representative in the King of the Cruiserweights Tournament, "Real Deal" Shawn Harrison. A pair of black jeans, black sneakers, a gold watch and Oakley shades, make up the rest of his attire. Shawn sits in a director's chair in an empty UEW press room.] HARRISON: Good gawd! The "Real Deal" and the IIWF, together to bring to you the _greatest_ sports spectacle in the history of wrestling. A moment in time that all will remember for eons to come. [He nods his head emphatically] The chance for everyone from California to Portland to London to India to the land of the Rising Sun.... [dramatic pause] The chance for _everyone_ to catch a glimpse of the World's Greatest Cruiserweight, "Real Deal" Shawn Harrison. Excuse my arrogance... [tries to hold in his laughter] ...but I just get so excited at times that my confidence can be easily mistaken for arrogance. And I _never_ intend to come out as an arrogant person. [snickers] Aw hell folks, I'm the most.... __egotistical-selfcentered-ahole__ that you will _ever_ meet. And what sucks for each and everyone of you is that fact that I back it up. So enough with the introductions, let's focus in on my first opponent, one "Sanguinary" Steve Manning. [Shawn sits forward in his chair and starts to rub his chin] So you are a bloodthirsty individual. That's all I can access from your name. Normally, a cruiserweight goes by some name that would insinuate an essence of daredevilness, risktaking or aerial superiority. But Steve has chosen the name which symbolizes power, strength and ruthlessness. [Another slight pause followed by a golf clap] Not bad Steve. Not bad at all. So I'll tell you _why_ they call me the "Real Deal". Because I personify _everything_ that is excellence. I am the most agile, most intelligent, most prepared and sexiest individual that you will ever encounter Steve. I may not be from the IIWF but I sure know how to lay out a good ass whoopin'. I know what it's like to be the man because I _am_ the man. I'm the one that's going to have his arm raised in victory. I am the one who is going to walk out of the ring in one piece, knowing that I am the best thing that has _ever_ stepped into an IIWF ring. And then we'll see every president out there, dropping to their knees and crawl across continents just to hear me say "I'll consider". Right now, I'm sitting on top of the world and there ain't no one who's going to bring me down. I'm at the height of my game, looking down on the rest of the competition, patiently waiting to take each and everyone of them down. The first victim is you Steve. It's supposed to be a big thing to take out Steve Manning. But I only see it, the way it truly will happen. [winks at the camera] When I wring your neck from pillar to post this Saturday night, you will learn a _valuable_ lesson in what we call _life_ [points to his chest] I dominate and you suffer....I hog the spotlight and you rumble in the shadows. I _am_ the King of the Cruiserweights. [arches his left eyebrow] And you're not! [A huge grin, a Grizzly-esque grin at that, forms on his face] Deal with it. [fade] [We open up on an IIWF interview area. A black vinyl sheet with the KotC logo emblazoned on it hangs over a studio wall. From off-camera, we hear a familiar, cocky voice.] Voice: HEY! The icon doesn't talk 'til the icon gets a chair! [With a grumble, an IIWF staffer in uniform walks out in front of the camera and places a stool on the ground. He walks off camera again, when suddenly, the cocky voice calls again...] Voice: WHOA! I said CHAIR, not STOOL! Rewind here! [The miffed IIWF staffer walks into the shot, mumbling something in a foreign accent. He places a steel folding chair in front of the camera and walks off with the stool. And then, the moment we've all been waiting for, as a leg in black jeans and brown suede workboots steps into the shot. The rest of the body is revealed, a blue denim shirt done up to the collar, flowing sandy brown hair and silver ray-bans. Yes, into the shot steps the self-proclaimed and self-professed icon, marquee man, and god of wrestling, "Playboy" Ronnie D. He sports a bit of a sour look on his face as he enters the camera view, but as soon as he sits in the chair, he sports a multi-million dollar Hollywood smile. He speaks energetically and entusiastically...] Ronnie: Hey Seany-boy... It's the icon, live and in Technicolor! Ronnie ta Seany! Wait! Just before I start... [Ronnie reaches in his chest pocket and produces a small silver lighter. He reaches in his back pocket, grinning at the camera, and pulls out a cigarette. He bends over as he lights it, cupping the flame in his hand. He carefully puts the lighter back and takes a long drag of the fine tobacco product before continuing.] Ronnie: Ah... That's the stuff. Now, Seany, I took some of my sweet precious time on Monday to watch the Musings. Yeah, that's right... So there I was on my Laz-ee-boy, watching the pixels go by, when out of the blue I see YOU, "Superior" Sean Stevens, on the screen! The Marky-mark extraordinaire... [Ronnie takes a drag from the cigarette as he continues.] Ronnie: So there you are, talking about your happy days in... Another promotion. And I'm thinking to myself, "Whoa! That's one scary dude!" I mean, how could I _EVER_ compete with someone of your calibre? After all, you _are_ the bush league champion of the world! Fact of the matter is, when you look at yourself, and then you look at the icon, well, you're just a prelim, now aren't ya? [Ronnie, letting the last comment sink in, takes a long, slow drag, savouring the rich tobacco flavour. Mmmm-MMM!] Ronnie: So, there you are, boasting about where you come from, and the next second, you're telling me that you don't care who wins our match? OK... At this point, you've shocked my damn socks off with your logic. I mean Seany, if you're not here to win, and win at all costs, why bother even stepping in the ring with the icon? I don't get beat often, Sean, and it takes someone with a lot of talent, a hell of a lot more drive, and twice as much luck to do it, _pal_. If ya don't have what it takes, don't waste the icon's time. [Ronnie takes a quick puff of his cigarette before continuing, letting that velvetous smoke pour out of his mouth and nose. I could go for a smoke now, how 'bout you?] Ronnie: Now, Seany, I can see why you might be confused now. I mean, you're a preliminary wrestler with no drive, and you're in a tournament with Ronnie D -- the icon. Doesn't make sense, does it? Maybe a little story about how I got here would help you out. I remember it like it was almost yesterday... Or maybe it was Tuesday. No... Maybe it was Monday... No, wait! [Ronnie rubs his chin as we go into a cheezy dream sequence. Hey, it's pro-wrestling, not Oliver Stone! We fade in to Ronnie sitting on a black leather Laz-ee-boy, almost fully reclined. In the white room that is the living room of the "Playboy Mansion," the fabled home of the self-proclaimed icon, is where we are. The grey carpeting offsets the white walls and black furniture. And in the middle of it all is Ronnie D, in a black "Ronnie D 3:16 -- I just admired my ass" t-shirt and khaki shorts. He talks on a black cordless phone. As he talks on the phone, a small caption crosses the bottom of the screen, reading... "RE-ENACTMENT: THIS MAY NOT HAVE ACTUALLY HAPPENED. IT COULD BE A COMPLETE, UTTER LIE PERPETUATED BY RONNIE D. THIS MAY BE A BUNCH OF BOLLOCKS, BABY DOLLS!"] Ronnie: No... Look, Dan, I just don't have time for another tournament! [Ronnie waits as IIWF President Daniel Spreadbury talks to him on the phone.] Ronnie: Dan... Man... I can't do -- What's that? Limo rides AND Evian? Make it Perrier and THEN we'll talk... [We cut to the luxurious corridors of none other than the IIWF Towers. Secretaries in skimpy skirts, the way Dan likes 'em, hussle and bustle about as men in suits talk on phones. IIWF referee Hugo Hugo runs around excitedly, doing somersaults as he files papers in his spare time. A very normal office scene, except for the short gymnast filing papers. Suddenly, all action in the hallway stops... A man is seen from the far end of the hallway. A hushed silence follows, as a man with long sandy brown hair, dressed in a black suit with a red tie walks down the hall. As he nears the camera, we see that it is none other than "Playboy" Ronnie D. He walks right past the camera, and opens a double-door adorned by ferns -- the corner office. We cut to the inside of the corner office, a wood-paneled room with a two large windows. Ronnie sits across from three men in suits. The first, on the left, a man with a striking resemblance to King of the Cruisers organizer Ian Jalbert. The middle man, an IIWF Vice-President Gregg Osterhout look-alike. And on the right, the big cheese. Sort of... Porn actor Ron Jeremy sits where IIWF President Daniel Spreadbury should be, dressed just like him. Same hair and everything. They're in the middle of a conference.] Ronnie: Dan, Gregg... Ian. I don't want to sound blunt, but to put it bluntly, I don't have the time for this. "Ian": Come on, Ronnie! We can't sign ANYONE! All we have is Icehawk. Musashi told us to go blow some goats. "Gregg": Yeah, Ronnie. You're the icon. But he didn't actually say, "goats," did he, Ian? "Ian": I'm paraphrasing here, Gregg. I don't know. I think it was something about mountain goats. Who knows? Ronnie: Yeah... Look... I'd love to do it, but... Well... I'm busy! "Dan": Maybe we can make this worth your while... ["Daniel Spreadbury" reaches under the oak table at which they sit, and pulls out a brown leather briefcase. He opens it up in front of Ronnie, and a few gasps arise from the other people in the room. What's in the briefcase? Gold bricks? Money wads? An IIWF contract? No... Far different than that. Meticulously layed out in the briefcase are three red string bikinis, three straw hats, and three periscopical canes. There is a moment of uneasiness, as all members of the room glance around nervously, except for "Dan," who seems proud of the undergarments in the case. We fade in to a shot of the back of Ronnie's head as he watches some sort of show. We hear the sweet strains of "Coney Island Baby" as the camera peers over Ronnie's shoulder. And then, we see the "show." "Dan," "Gregg," and "Ian," doing a barber shop number in the bikinis. As the "show" wraps up with a grandiose bow, a twirl of the canes and a wave of the hats, Ronnie stands up.] Ronnie: Umm... Yeah. Well, I think we're done here. Been nice talking to you. And about that barber shop... Don't quit your day jobs. [As Ronnie is about to exit the room, "Dan", "Ian," and "Gregg" rush over in front of him and get down on their knees.] "Ian": Ronnie, we're begging you! Ronnie: Look! I said no! "Gregg": We'll do anything! Say, do you like magic tricks? I'm a closet magician, you know. Ronnie: Uh... "Ian": Hey, you want pizza after EVERY match, I can get it delivered to your locker room afterwards... Ronnie: Well... "Dan": And, I, uh... Well... "Gregg": I can book you some lovin'! "Ian": So can I! "Gregg": And then, for my finale, I can saw it in half! [Everyone looks at Ian suspiciously, before Ronnie speaks up.] "Gregg": Well, I don't HAVE to! Ronnie: Well, if you guys put some pants on, and book me some lovin', I guess we can work some kinks out. "Gregg": Heh heh. "Kinks." Good one... "Dan": Knock it off! [And just like that, our dream sequence ends, as we fade back to Ronnie in studio, rubbing his chin.] Ronnie: So... What was the point of that, Seany? Well, now you know why you're in a tournament with the icon. And now you know who doesn't wear the pants in the IIWF. And what was the moral? Ummm... I guess it's that there's more than one way to get some lovin'... [Fade] [SCENE: A park setting. It is very calm, tranquil, and peaceful. Sean Stevens is lounging on a park bench, lying down. The constant light breeze is tugging at his blond locks and polo shirt. He also wears a pair of loose-fitting blue jeans. The type is undistinguishable from the camera angle we are viewing Stevens at. Sean is slightly dozing, his eyes closed...so the cameraman politely asks:] CAMERAMAN: Uh...Mister Stevens? [Stevens wakes up with a start, sitting right up] SSS: Oh. Sorry. Looks like I dozed off...well, sue me. I gotta take a round- trip flight from Baltimore to Japan this weekend, then I get to travel down to Florida. So I need all the sleep I can get... I apologize, but I've digressed. [Stevens motions around him] SSS: Seeing as how the odds say that Ronnie's going to be giving his next interview from a nightclub or something like that, I decided to come here. I wouldn't want to put the youth of America in any more predicaments where they can't watch our sport anymore because of guys like Ronnie. Yes, Ronnie, that's what I said. You and your cocky smile...you and your "I can get anyone I want!" attitude...it makes me _sick._ [Stevens looks sideways, at the camera] SSS: You really do expect this to be a cakewalk, don't you? You're so confident in your abilities that you're going to dance and prance your way to the ring, all the while declaring how I'm nothing, how I'm going to get beaten. [Stevens shakes his head] SSS: I don't think so, l's and g's. You see, I have a name for this arrogance. It's called I-change-the-truth-to-fit-my-own-needs-itis, or The Stevens Virus for short. No...I don't change the truth. I merely enlighten those who would wish to lie. I tell it like it is...they tell it like _they want it to be._ There's a big difference in those two things. Ronnie is a guy who makes things up. If you listen to him, I'm doomed. If you listen to him, I am hopelessly outmanned and I might as well not show my face in Japan, that's how badly I am going to get embarrassed. _Think again,_ buddy. [Stevens smirks] SSS: Yes, I am willing to admit that I also am egotistical. No doubt about that..._but_...I hardly _ever_ come out and say "you can't beat me." Never. Why? I'm not that stupid...[smiles] You know, a lot of people've tried to put me down. The last two guys who did that were Tommy Marauder and Jak Martin. All week, I got to hear "Stevens is a glorified jobber!" or "Stevens can't beat anybody!" Want to know what those two matches had in common, Ronnie? I'm sure you're itching to know...so I'll tell you... Come on, get a little closer, this is big news... [The camera zooms in right up-close] SSS: _WHOA!_ Back! I don't function that way, cameraman! [The camera zooms out a little bit...] SSS: Anwyay...the thing those matches had in common...is that I _won_ them. So what makes you so special, huh, Ronnie? You're better than those two men? You're on a level all by yourself? [Stevens snickers] SSS: I'll show you. I'll show you pain. I'll show you just what happens to people who are overconfident against Triple S. Last, but not least...I'll show you a plane ticket home...even if Spreads doesn't want the MLWOer to win. And we all know _that's_ true... [Stevens smiles] SSS: And I'll go on to the second round. Face it, Ronnie...that's the truth. [Fade to black] [Returning from commercial, an audience can be heard cheering as the logo for the Tonight Show with Jay Leno is seen. It slowly fades out and into a scene of Jay sitting behind his desk. The camera slowly zooms in on Jay.] JL: I’d like to bring out my next guest. In the last six months or so he’s become somewhat of a regular guest. He’s played with the guys from KISS, right on this show. The last time he was here he stomped on my impression of Hulk Hogan, with a little help. [Jay shoots a look to his left. The scene changes to a view of a laughing Kevin Eubanks holding his guitar.] KE: Stop it Jay. JL: Stop it. How can I stop it, watch this. [The scene changes to footage of Jay sitting behind his desk with the Kabuki Kid standing in front of him. Jay pokes Kabuki Kid in the eye. Kabuki falls back into his chair. Jay steps up on top of his table and starts flexing.] JL: I am Hulk Hogan! So, whatcha gonna do when the Hulkster runs wild on you?! [The audience laughs uncontrollably along with the Kabuki Kid and Kevin. As Jay continues to pose Kevin is sneaking up on him.] JL: I want to thank Kabuki for coming on the show, and I hope he will again. We’ll be right back after theses messages. [“Hotter than Hell” is played by the Tonight Show band. As Jay leans down to shake Kabuki’s hand, Kevin double axehandles Jay from behind. Jay falls forward, and Kabuki catches him in a bodyslam position. He gently places Jay on the floor on his back. Then, Kabuki and Kevin start fake stomping on him. Jay writhes around like he’s being murdered as the show goes to commercial. The scene comes back to the set, Jay is laughing and the audience is applauding and laughing as well.] JL: I’m going to get you back for that. KE: [Laughing] Alright. JL: He’s come back here again, this time to promote his latest venture in the wrestling world, the “King of the Cruisers” tournament. Here’s the Kabuki Kid! [Jay stands up and claps with the audience as the Tonight Show band plays an instrumental version of “Hotter Than Hell” by KISS. The camera pans towards the entrance when Kabuki Kid, an oriental man standing five foot ten inches tall and weighing about two hundred and fifteen pounds of compact, well built muscle, dressed in black dress shoes, black slacks and a white button down shirt walks out. He’s not wearing his face paint. He shakes Jay’s hand, then waves to the crowd. He sits down as does Jay, and the crowd quite down. Kabuki Kid waves in the direction of Kevin.] JL: Nice of you to return. KK: Thanks for having me again. Especially after the last time. [He chuckles] JL: [Smiling] I’m sure. So, how’s it been going? I here you’re in a big tournament thingy. KK: Hai, it’s the “King of the Cruisers”, a sixteen man elimination tournament, being put on by the IIWF and the SJPW, to decide who’s the best cruiserweight in the world. JL: What do you think your chances are? KK: You’re kidding right? [Looking towards Kevin while pointing at Jay.] He’s kidding right? KE: [Laughing] Yeah, if he knows what’s good for him? KK: I believe I’m going to win this thing. The other competitors are great wrestlers. Some of them have been around for a number of years and are considered legends, while some of them are newer to the sport and are very hungry. My only thought about it is they should bring everything they’ve got, because they’re going to need it, if they plan on competing with the finest cruiser in the world. JL: You mentioned there are a few men that some of the fans might have heard of. Care to name them? KK: Sure, what do I have to be afraid of. As I said earlier, they’re all great wrestlers, but their greatness won’t be enough to beat me. Let's see, there’s “Playboy” Ronnie D. JL: I’ve heard of him. KK: Tiger Claw... JL: Impressive. KK: Icehawk, Joey Rappoprt... JL: Sounds like a good field. It should be exciting. Not to change the subject but I’d like to ask you about your wife Ms. Miki. How’s she doing? KK: She’s feeling a lot better. Her neck heeled fine. She should be back very soon. JL: What I’m referring to, for all those who haven’t been following the hottest feud going today, is an incident that happened between Ms. Miki and the Machines’, Paul Wong. Apparently, she suffered a neck injury. It all stems back to the Fabulous Ones/Machines feud that has been heating up over the last few months. KK: Hai. She was clotheslined by Wong. JL: If you don’t mind, allow me to show the footage. [The television pops up from behind the Kabuki Kid. The footage starts with Simon facing the terrified Ms. Miki, who is sitting on the mat in the ring, with her hands handcuffed behind her back. Paul looks at her with an odd expression on his face.] SO: Hiya, Mik! Remember us? We're the team that you broke apart. Well, guess what? [He walks over, bends down, and smirks right into her face.] SO: We're back... and we're not too happy. [He tosses some keys to Paul.] SO: Paul, here. It's the keys to her handcuffs. I know how much pain she caused you, and as much as I want to slap her across the face...I figure you've earned the right. [He steps back.] Go ahead, Paulie. Smack her. Lord knows she deserves it. [Paul steps forward, picks up Ms. Miki with one hands, and gets her to a standing position. The crowd is booing heavily. He turns towards Simon, who is pantomiming a hard slap. He reaches back with his right hand... Miki closes her eyes and turns her face... He drops his hand.] PW: I can't do it. I can't slap Miki. Sorry, Simon. [Simon is screaming protests as Paul unlocks the handcuffs of Miki, but Paul doesn't even look at him as he continues.] Miki hurt me badly, Simon, but slapping her isn't going to help. [Simon just shakes his head as the handcuffs drop from Miki. Paul heads over and holds open the ropes.] TD: Well, that disaster was averted. SR: I've said since the beginning that Simon should have just dumped his wimp of a par... [Huge heel pop!] TD: PAUL WONG CLOTHESLINED MS. MIKI! [Miki does a 360 degree flip as Paul suddenly charges at her and nails her with a clothesline. Simon's expression changes from disgust... to shock... to a satisfied smirk. Paul picks up the microphone again.] PW: A simple goddamn slap just wasn't enough! This... bitch broke my heart and made me betray my best friend. You're going to hell, Miki. And I'm taking you there... NOW! [Miki, clutching her neck and in immense pain, tries to crawl along the mat and leave the ring. Paul picks Miki up and smacks her across the back of her head... then doubles her over and picks her up in a powerbomb position.] TD: Oh my god, he's going to powerbomb Miki! SR: Dammit! What a waste of a piece of ass! [The Fabulous Ones come screaming down the aisle. Agito is tackled by an unwilling Harlequin Terror, but Sho Satsuma dives into the ring and trips up Paul Wong, causing him to drop Ms. Miki without any serious force. Sho is caught from behind by Simon O'Neal, who is now wearing his glove. Then. Marty Warnett runs into the ring. The footage ends and we cut back to the Tonight Show set. The audience is booing loudly as the television goes back down. Kabuki Kid looks very angry.] JL: I hear you’ve got a date with revenge against Paul Wong. KK: Actually, I have two matches, one in the CIWF and one in the SJPW. He’s going to wish he never was born when I get through with him. JL: Who was the guy who helped Ms. Miki out at the end? KK: That’s Marty Warnett-san. One of the fine talents in the IIWF. I really appreciate what he did. If he hadn’t of helped the Fabs out, I fear to think what might have happened. JL: Let's get off this scary subject and get to a surprise I’ve arranged. Kabuki Kid, being that you’re the Tonight Show’s favorite wrestler, we thought you’d like to meet one of your idols once again...KISS. [Jay stands up and starts clapping as Paul, Gene, Ace, and Peter walk out from behind the wall, dressed in street clothes, to a huge welcome applause. They shake Jay’s hand than shake the Kabuki Kid’s, who has a look of joy on his face. The members of KISS wave to the crowd as they sit down next to Kabuki Kid, Paul and Gene sitting the closest. Paul Stanley starts talking. Kabuki Kid is hanging on to every word.] PS: I’d like to first say, how much we enjoy watching you wrestle. [The crowd cheers as Paul nods his head in approval.] PS: Secondly, we know how much you like playing the guitar, so we thought we’d give you a gift from us to you. Ace! [Ace Frehley leans over the seat and grabs a silver sparkling Les Paul with a flaming pick-up and hands it to Kabuki Kid. The smile on his face said it all as the crowd goes crazy with applause.] KK: Domo arigato gozaimashita! [He stares at the guitar in awe.] GS: This is to show you how big a fan of yours we are. [Peter Criss pulls out a pin from his pocket and walks over to Kabuki Kid and signs his guitar, then hands the pin to Paul who does the same, then Gene.] KK: Arigato Jay. JL: Now, just win that tournament, so I look good. [Gene goes to hand the pin to Ace, but he refuses and instead pulls out a pin in the shape of a space ship, and signs the guitar.] JL: But, Kabuki, there’s more. [Kabuki Kid can’t imagine what else Jay could be doing. Just then, Ms. Miki walks out from behind the wall, wearing a long dress and carrying some envelopes, to a huge ovation. She walks up to Kabuki Kid who gives her a hug and a kiss. The members of KISS all stand up.] MM: As another little gift to you from the Tonight Show, Jay has arranged to have the members of KISS ringside for your first round match with Sean Watts in Japan. [The crowd applauds again loudly, as Ms. Miki hands the papers to KISS. Kabuki Kid looks overwhelmed by all this. He bows to Jay, then to KISS, who bow back.] KK: I can’t believe this. I’m going to wrestle in front of my childhood heroes. In just a few nights, I will start a long journey to prove that I’m the best cruiserweight in the world. My journey starts with Sean Watts, and will end on the night of May 16th at the IIWF’s next pay-per-view. [Kabuki Kid looks over at KISS as he holds up his guitar.] KK: I’m going to make you proud that you’re associated with me. [Kabuki looks towards the camera with a angry look.] And, Paul Wong, I’m going to cripple you, to make one thing clear...You should have never laid a hand on my wife. [Ms. Miki gives Kabuki another hug.] JL: You will return to tell us about the tournament some time? KK: With trophy in hand! JL: Well, that’ll do it for the Tonight Show. Until tomorrow, when my guest will be Bruce Willis and William Shatner. See ya! [The Tonight Show band plays a loose rendition of “Shock Me” by KISS. Jay gets up and walks around the desk and shakes hands with KISS, then looks over the guitar they gave Kabuki Kid. ACE walks over to the band and picks up a guitar and starts jamming to the song he wrote many years ago. He even starts to sing as the show fades out.] [As the scene establishes itself, we can see that Sean Watts is seated alone at a booth in a rather seedy cafe. Duct-taped vinyl booths, chipped formica counter tops, and an ennui-ridden waitstaff seem to be the norm. The continuous clatter of cheap dishes and numerous conversations can be heard in the background, and aside from one young skater waving at the camera as he passes by, everyone seems content to ignore the camera crew and the wrestler which brought it here. An uncharacteristically somber Sean Watts is reclining against the faded red vinyl booth in which he sits. A mug of coffee, a large plate of picked over hash browns, and a menu which bears the logo of the 'Hurricane Cafe' are spread out on the table before him. One hand runs through his lanky blond hair while the other reaches out to take hold of the cup of coffee before he speaks.] SW: And here we go again. Another chance for some braggadocio, outlandish claims, and the other standard fare. Sometimes, just sometimes, I consider coming out here and doing the same thing as a lot of the field. But I can't. I can't come out here and go on about my near flawless record, because mine is pretty damn messy. But you know what? I don't care that much about it. I'm certainly not the type to worry about padding it out. And... [Sean moves the back of his hand to cover the snicker coming out of his mouth.] SW: I certainly don't run away to greener pastures if I lose. I just take it. Its part of being a man, I guess. Yeah, I know where I could take this; off to some discussion of how my opponents aren't manly. Well, I'm not going there, since it isn't the truth. Where I'm going to is Japan. That's not somewhere I'd ever thought I'd end up again. I was sent there to improve my so called 'lackluster work ethic'. And partway through my tour I was asked politely to leave and never return. Or at least, that's what the interpreter said. I was pretty sure the promoter was saying something different from the way he was jumping around yelling and screaming. And if I didn't know better, I'd say there was a threat or two in there. [Sean pauses to take a long sip from his coffee mug.] SW: But like they say, 'time heals all wounds'. We'll see just how true that is. As for Kabuki Kid, there's not much I can say about my opponent. He's beaten Tiger Claw, he'll be on his home turf, and I've got to be the darkest dark horse in this whole thing. I think that makes this a moment to relish. [The scene cuts to static.] [The camera slowly fades in -- Joey Rappoport is sitting in a movie theater somewhere in the outskirts of his hometown, Boston, Massachusetts. He's the only one in the theater, but wouldn't acknowledge anybody that entered; he's concentrating on the big screen while munching on some popcorn. Clips of his opponents in the King of the Cruisers tournament is showing, one lightweight at a time. Suddenly the camera pans around to the front of theater, focusing on the SJPW Middleweight Champion.] JR: I'm impressed. In fact, I'd go as far as saying that I'm blown away. Needless to say, such competition hasn't been viewed by my eyes in a long, long time. This tournament will declare the number one cruiserweight in all of professional wrestling; I haven't really talked from my heart like some of the other superstars have already. [Joey Rappoport wipes the butter off his hands with a napkin, and then resumes speaking.] JR: I know this tournament isn't filled with a bunch of no-name pushovers. I recognize every single one of the participants and even have had the pleasure to meet them in the past. But one wrestler that has really caught my attention: Chris Michaels. Maybe I'm not used to the way things operate in Japan in the six months I've been here, but I_do_know that now is not the time to bring up wrestlers who won't make a difference in this tournament. Chris, the only thing who've done thus far is whine about your respective organization throwing you out into the cold... and then you go and insult Big Greggy Cool, a man whom I have seen wrestle in person; trust me, you don't want to get on his bad side. [The camera shifts slightly downward, focusing now on Joey Rappoport's Middleweight Title he earned in SJPW.] JR: So now that I've gotten that off my chest, I want to see how the rest of the superstars in the King of the Cruisers tournaments stacks up. [Camera zooms back; movie screen turns white and the words "Ironclast" Sean Watts appear. Then various clips of Sean in the ring show.] JR: Sean Watts... you know, I've heard many things about you. I hear you've got awesome skills in the ring; skills that are unmatched in many parts of the world. [The movie screen turns white once again and the words "Youth Gone Wild" appear. A smile slowly crosses Joey Rappoport's face. Highlights from YGW's career is shown.] JR: Now here's a guy that I see as a darkhorse to win it all. YGW, you've got the talent and the charisma to defeat anyone in the world, and I respect you for what you've accomplished in your career. [YGW's clips stop and the screen whites out; "El Hijo Del Satanico" appears in block text onscreen. Clips follow from his career.] JR: I've got two words to say: "Mexican Sensation". [The clips stop abruptly and the screen whites out again, and the words "'Playboy' Ronnie D" appear. Clips from his career are shown.] JR: I have never seen a wrestler with such an aura of... darkness surrounding him. Nevertheless, when he talks, the world listens, and I guess that's what makes him so successful. [Once again the screen turns white, and the name "Kabuki Kid" appears. Joey watches as he remembers witnessing Kabuki Kid in action a couple of weeks ago while the clips show.] JR: SJPW is a promotion of great wrestlers, and surely Kabuki won't disappoint in the tournament. I've seen the way he wrestles firsthand, and he will pull out all the stops to beat you. But still, I think that he needs to speak up concerning this tournament; two children talking about you, Kabuki, isn't going to cut it here. [Suddenly the movie screen turns black, and the projection stops. The attendant upstairs calls out to Joey Rappoport, telling him that the projection is shot.] JR: Well, I guess there goes the audio-visual segment of my little rebuttal. But hey, nothing's ever stopped me from getting my point across before, so why break a streak like that? At this time I want to address two wrestlers that are probably the favorites to win it all: Icehawk and Steve Manning, both hailing from IIWF. I hope you guys are treating this tournament as an afterthought. When I was watching your latest interview on international television, you guys never mentioned the King of the Cruisers tournament at all. Maybe I'm misjudging you a bit, but I think you better give this tournament a little more attention than what you currently think it warrants. If you think that you can just waltz right in and score a couple victories en route to the finals... then, you're wrong. [Joey Rappoport raises his voice.] JR: There are fourteen of the best cruiserweights in the world vying for the right to be called "King". And if you think, even just once, that you can beat them without giving a second thought to it, then you'll be awfully surprised when you get your shoulders' pinned down to the mat for the one, two, three, by a "no-name wrestler". I don't think it's a good idea to be underestimating wrestlers that you haven't even scouted yet. In fact, I'll be waiting to hear what you two big shots say about me. You know what? Go_ahead. Say whatever you want. I can take it. Heck, I've been taking it my whole life, but I've still managed to shrug it off and give it my all. So take your best shot. And then I'll give you one of mine... in the form of the Rappoport Death Driver. [The camera zooms backwards, and Joey Rappoport lowers the tone of his voice.] JR: Now that I've addressed that issue, I want to talk about my first-round opponent right now. Steve Spector, you've made your first mistake. You've underestimated me. And if there is one thing that my opponents do, they underestimate me. Sure I haven't been in the spotlight much, but there isn't much I can do about it except work my butt off night in and night out for the only people who matter -- the fans. Steve, I've heard your name before, and let me say this: there were only positive comments associated with yourself. But that doesn't mean that I can lay you out. Everybody is on even ground now. We have no rankings, no titles that are up for grabs. Only respect, and the right to be called King of the Cruisers. I wish the best of luck to you, and hope that our match is one for the ages. I'm going into this match with the ultimate mindset -- I'm going to try 110%, just like I always do, and hope that that's enough to pull out a victory over a quality wrestler like you. I've gone this far, so I might as well go the distance and make sure there is a victory parade going down in Boston when I get home. [Joey Rappoport runs a finger through his hair.] JR: Steve, right now there's nothing left for anybody else to do. Except wait for their time to come, and then go out there and show the world what they're made of. Heck, that's what I'm going to do, and I won't be satisfied at anything less than 110% on my part. Sure, you're a great wrestler, but everybody has gotten a loss at least once in their career... and that proves that you are not unbeatable. See, I've earned this belt for a reason -- [Joey Rappoport points down at his SJPW Middleweight Title.] JR: -- To prove that I have what it takes to be a part of the upper echelon in professional wrestling. But right now, this belt means nothing. On April 19, it won't be SJPW Middlweight Champion versus Armitage, it will be Joey Rappoport against Steve Spector. I'll have my wrestling boots on that night, and with the fans as my witness, I'm not going to accept them walking out of the arena that night with a content look on their face. I want each and every fan there to walk out to their cars with the biggest smile they've ever worn. Call me old-fashioned, but the fans are the only ones who matter when you take all the other factors out of the equations. When you take away the titles, the money, the traveling, the fans are the ones who matter. They come out and fill up the seats and then wait two hours after the match to ask for your autograph. I'm in this tournament for two reasons and two reasons only: the fans and to represent SJPW. I'm going to make sure my name is my name is mentioned in every single elementary school conversation after this tournament has come to and end. As the fans as my witnesses... I won't let them down. Count on it, Steve. This tournament's dedicated to the fans. [Joey Rappoport points straight at the camera, and mouths the phrase "I won't let you down".] JR: I'll see you on the nineteenth, Steve. Let's have a match for the ages. [The camera zooms back; and slowly fades out. Joey Rappoport slowly stands up and starts making his way out of the movie theater. "Long Way Down" by the Goo Goo Dolls starts playing quietly in the background as the camera fades completely out.] [The scene is Steve Spector's bedroom, and it's dark, with the only illumination coming from a nearby lamp. Spector's sitting up in his bed, fully clothed still at two in the morning. It appears as if Spector has been thinking about his upcoming match at the KoTc.] SS: You remember the old phrase.. nice guys finish last? Sometimes, Joey Rappoport.. they don't even finish. [Spector smirks.] SS: I remember.. I was just like you a long time ago.. I always said that I would give 110% to all the fans out there that pay thie money and buy their tickets... so they can enjoy nice clean wrestling.. It took spilling countless pints of blood before I realized differently. Look at what I had to endure before I realized that the direction I was going in wasn't worth the pain and agony. [The camera gets a close up of Spector's face and upper body. Various scars adorn Spector's skin, and the look on his face indicates that he did not enjoy getting them.] SS: Sooner or later, Rappoport.. you'll look at the world through my eyes... you'll realize no matter what you do.. no matter how you please the fans out there.. There will always be somebody out there ready and willing to take advantage of ya. [Flashback: A few months ago, Steve Spector is lying in the ring after receiving the beating of his life from someone he respected and called a friend.] SS: See that, Rappoport? The only reason I suffered was because I was the blood of his rival. I gave that guy.. Captain Midnight, all the respect in the world. I was his friend.. He told me to take that respect and friendship and shove it up my *ss. [Spector lets out a deep sigh.] SS: Maybe being too nice made me naive enough to think I actually accomplished something in the world of proffesional wrestling. I look at myself now and realize that wasn't the case.. that being nice for most of my career really didn't work. Maybe it might work for you, Joey.. I'm not saying you shouldn't be a nice guy.. But you'll think about it eventually.. You'll wonder... is it all worth it? No matter where you go.. what you do.. there will always be somebody out there that will try to wipe you off the face of the earth for the crime of showing compassion and respect. [Spector rolls his eyes.] SS: A sick truth, but a truth none the less.. you have a lot to be careful of if you stick with this wrestling thing... in all honesty, I don't know how long you've been around, and how much you accomplished.. only what you've done recently. >From that I painted an image of ya.. you have good intentions.. But they're not gonna work against me. Go ahead, give your 110% next Sunday night.. I'm telling you this right now though.. sooner or later you'll realize what that's gonna get you. [Spector smirks.] SS: A whole heap of trouble. See you in the ring. [Camera fades out.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- American Dragons vs. Night Patrol ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: Let's get into tag team action, IIWF style. Tomorrow night a feud between the American Dragons and the Night Patrol returns. These two teams really have it in for each other. MT: Hai, but can either one be on the same level of greatness as the Fabulous Ones? Both teams still have a lot to prove. LM: Yes they do. And tomorrow night they’ll attempt to bring this feud to a head. MT: This has nothing to do with the American Dragons degrading an Asian heritage, but I think they’re still a little too green to be considered real talents in the tag division. They need a little more time. Now though, one can never estimate ones determination. They seem ready for battle. If I were the Night Patrol, I’d prepare myself for the worst. The AD’s seem ready for pay backs. LM: Let's hear from both teams. [We open on a shot of the IIWF Colosseum in Portland, Oregon. It's daytime, around 4:00 pm, and the sun is still high in the sky, casting its light on the parking lot. The lot is empty currently, awaiting Saturday night and the return of Portland's favorite sons. Okay, it's not totally empty. A white pickup truck has just pulled up, and as we zoom in, we see two men jump out. We get closer...and we see the trademark black and white leather jackets, and we know exactly how it is. Joe Scalercio and Bob Ivey, the American Dragons. Joe wears his sunglasses, while Bob wears the cowboy hat he loves so much. Both men put their hands into the pockets of their jackets as they take a look...their first look...at the IIWF Colosseum] BI: Damn... JS: I thought it'd be bigger... [They stare at the marquee, which lists the events of this weekend...the Intercontinental Battle Royal...Eddy Jacks vs. Icehawk...the Benjamins vs. Robert D'Artois & Reiner Ver Magnusson...and the American Dragons vs. the Nigtht Patrol] JS: Well, there it is. Our name up on the building which has the best wrestling action each week. BI: Jesus! You sound a LOT like Tim Dross. JS: Hey, it's a touching moment for me, alright? BI: Good God...I worry about you sometimes. JS: Look, we've made it, Bob. We've survived the rookie jinx and made it past our first PPV! BI: Okay...but all that's up there is a name. A name that's going to be associated with the best tag team wrestling one day, no doubt, but right now, all it is is a name. JS: I'll grant you that...but look who's next to us. [Bob cranes his neck to get a good look...] BI: No. Nope. I won't accept it. JS: We can't turn down a match, Bob... BI: We're the hardest working tag team in the business, right? JS: Yeah... BI: So why the hell are we taking on the special education team of the IIWF tag ranks? I mean, we've danced with the Fabulous Ones AND the Night Patrol...when the hell are we going to take on some REAL teams? There's teams like the Northpac Coliltion, the Down Boys...hell, how long have we been buggin the execs for a match with the Predators? And here WE are, stuck with these idiot cops again! JS: Look, Bob. There's two teirs here in the IIWF. There's the stars... and then there's the superstars, right? BI: Huh? JS: Think Steve Kowalski...and think Simon Lebec. BI: Gotcha. JS: Here, the tag stars are Team Sychosys, the Down Boys, the Natural Predators...and then there's the Ones, the Machines, the Patrol, and us. BI: I'm not getting you... JS: We want to break through to the upper teir, right? BI: Hell yeah! JS: Fine. Instead of moaning and bitching, we go out on Saturday and redefine the definition of pain for Blazer and Garcia. We put on a tag team clinic such that the execs HAVE to take up seriously. BI: Gotcha. [Joe turns to the camera] JS: Hey, Patrol? Get ready...you're the first step in a long journey... BI: ...a trip that's gonna take us to the IIWF Tag belts...and bury everyone else. [Joe and Bob turns, showing the Dragon logos on the back of the jackets to the camera] JS and BI: Any team, any time... [Fade out on the logos] [The IIWF cameras enter Sunrise Doughnuts, where all three members of the Night Patrol are shown sipping coffee and nibbling crullers.] RG: So, then Kramer comes in and asks to borrow Jerry's...[spotting camera] Hey! Get outta here! We're on break! BH: No, Sergeant, these are the IIWF cameras [to the camera, with an annoyed sigh] I guess you want to know our thoughts on Ring Wars Five. [Camera nods] JB: I'll tell you what we think...The American Dragons better start praying. RG: Dragons, you lawbreaking punks have declared open war on the Law and Order of the IIWF? In that case, we'll have to lower our scruples and fight on your level! Don't expect to ask for mercy, 'cause we've lost what we had on you felons. JB: Aww, and you were so sweet to make a promise to a little kid to take care of us. The only thing you're going to take care of for us is to help out our win-loss record! Prepare to Get Jacked! [Fade] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The Benjamins vs. Robert D'Artois & Reiner Ver Magnusson ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: Continuing on with the tag scene, we’ll see two debuts as the Benjamins face off with Robert D’Artois and Reiner Ver Magnussen. MT: I know very little of either team. What I have heard from my scout is they both have a lot of potential. LM: If they didn't have potential they wouldn't be welcome in the IIWF! Time will tell whether that potential will come to fruition. One of those new teams had a few comments for our cameras. [Camera opens on the Target Center in Minnesota. It begins on the action in the center of the arena, a basketball game between the Minnesota Timberwolves and Utah Jazz. The crowd is almost a sell-out, and there is a subtle buzzing of anticipation in the Center. On the court, Kevin Garnett cuts through the Utah defence and rips down a monster jam in traffic, as a buzzer goes off. The crowd goes wild, and the noise is deafening. Camera then cuts to a side-on shot of the Benjamins, Joe and Bobby, jumping from their ringside seats in triumph -- pumping their fists in the air and cheering loudly. When the noise dies down, they return to their seats as some other fans get up to buy refreshments. Camera then pans round to get a front-on view of the two brothers] BB: Man oh man! And it's only half-time! The Timberwolves are really rockin' tonight! JB: Yeah, Garnett is just blowin' 'em away, just the way we like it. [clapping energetically] Woooo-hoooo! [An indistinguishable announcement is made over the P.A and music begins playing in the background for the halftime entertainment] BB: Y'know, we've gotta lot in common with him. When he came into the NBA, a lotta guys thought that he was just some kid who'd probably show a few flashy moves now and again, but, in the end, really wouldn't cut it in the big league. Where's he now? Kickin' butt and takin' no prisoners. That's where we wanna be in the IIWF. JB: [Turns to brother] Nah, bro, that's where we're GONNA be. [Turns back to camera] I've been round the locker rooms for a few days now, been told by guys like Annis to 'get the hell away from me' when I went over to talk to 'em, and now that I'm gettin' used ta seein' 'em around everyday, I'm startin' to feel like a real wrestler. I belong here -- I just know it. BB: [With a slight nod of his head] It's true, we ain't been through it all -- Hell, I'll be the first to admit that I'm a rookie in the big-time, and you don't get much greener than Joe here, but hey, you've gotta start somewhere, and for us it's gonna be this Saturday Night against the team of d'Artois and Magnusson. Guys, looking through your records, it looks like at least of one of you've seen quite a bit of ring action, so we've probably got our work cut out for us, but like Prez Spreadbury said when we signed to the IIWF, there aren't any easy matches in the Double-eye. You guys are rookies here, just like us, and we ain't gonna be taking much notice of your reputations anywhere else -- we're gonna hitcha hard, hitcha fast, and hopefully, hitcha for a three-count. JB: But the most important thing that we're gonna do is go out and have some fun. We ain't got anythin' to prove yet -- we're tryin' ta find our feet, but we are gonna try our damn best, turns to brother and extends a fist to him] ain't we, Bobby? BB: [He clenches his own hand, turns and punches his brothers'] Yeah, little bro, you've got that right. Y'know, quite a few years back now, another 'kid' broke outta Minnesota and onto the world wrasslin' stage. Where's he now? Well, after many world title reigns, he's still wrasslin' and already a legend. That, for all you ladies and gentlemen out there in T.V land, is what we're aimin' for. It's gonna be a long haul -- we know, but we think we've got what it takes. JB: You're all gonna be findin' out that IT'S ALL ABOUT THE BENJAMINS, BABY!! [points his index finger to the sky above and shakes it in the air] Yeah!! BB: Game's about to restart, so we ain't got much time left, but if ya wanna see history in the makin', watch our match on Saturday -- it's gonna be somethin' that you'll wanna remember, 'cos in years to come, you're [points directly at camera] gonna be able to say that you were there for The Benjamin's first match. You're gonna be able to say that you saw them as 'kids', just startin' out on their road to glory. [Camera fades to black on the brothers as the background music dies and an announcement begins on the P.A] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- TO BE ANNOUNCED ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: This match is still under wraps as of this taping. Rumors have it being a big deal, but I don’t want to speculate at this time. Eiji-kun? MT: [Blank stare] It has nothing to do with the Daimyo, who cares? LM: I guess that depends who it ends up being! ----------------------------------------------------------------------- IIWF World Tag Team Championship Match Team Sychosys vs. the Machines ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: Now, I purposely keep this one for last. The IIWF’s world tag team titles will be on the line, when Team Sychosys faces the Machines. MT: Well played hand Larry-kun. You wanted a reaction. You’re getting good at this “Countdown” show. I’ve only got three words for the Machines....[intense look] Dead Men Walking! LM: [Smiling] Hey, as Ms. Miki is well aware of, and Rusty likes to have, it’s all about ratings. I hope I haven’t overstepped my boundaries. MT: Not at all. I understand business, remember I own quite a few. LM: Yes, I know.... [Larry is cut off mid-sentence when the Machines, Paul Wong and Simon O’Neal, step onto the set. Mr. Tsuburaya spins around and looks at the intruders.] LM: What are you doing here? You’re not scheduled to be... PW: [softly] Be quiet, Larry. SO: Let's see... here we are, the winners of the 4-way Tag Team Match, the next IIWF Tag Team Champions, the best tag team in the world. And who do the bright boys in the IIWF offices have co-host the show before we win the belts? The Fabulous Freaks with their managers, Ms. Tramp and the Dirty Old Man. [Mr. Tsuburaya stands up, his facial expression is one of anger.] MrT: Chikushoo! [Simon shoves Mr. Tsuburaya back a foot or two into the desk, but he stays standing.] SO: Geshundtiet! Sit down and shut up, while we explain the facts. Fact number one is that we went through not one, not two, but three teams at Ring Wars number Five. PW: Actually, Two teams and a pair of jokers. Fact number two, Simon and I beat Team Sychosys in Australia in the double bullrope match. No one can say that we didn't beat them, cleanly and clearly. SO: Fact number three: This same Team Sychosys currently hold the IIWF Tag Team Titles... until Saturday, when we beat them for a second time. PW: Fact four: we had already taped a segment, talking about Team Sychosys, our actual opponents this week, for this show, then we get a call yesterday from Priske saying that, "Sorry, the tape got destroyed by accident." SO: Gee, on the same show that's hosted by the Dirty Old Man of the AbFabs. What a huge [BLEEP]ing shock. It's almost like he's out to piss us off! [As Simon approaches Mr. Tsuburaya, Larry hops up out of his seat and gets in between the two.] LM: Stop! Enough of this! Settle it in the ring! Can I get some help here?! PW: We'll be gone in a minute, Larry. SO: Right now, we're trying to concentrate on winning the belts. And the last thing we need are the two pretty boys, their tramps, and this geezer to get in our way. [He points at Mr. Tsuburaya]. Here’s a message from us to your little orgy; get out of our way. We've already beaten you, we've already hurt you. If we have to put any more effort in the Fabulous Ones and their tramps...someone from your group's going to the hospital. And quite frankly, we don't care which one. [Two men of the “Countdown” crew try to help Larry keep order, but as they put their hands on the Machines all hell breaks loose.] SO: [Looking at the crew member’s hand on his chest, then looking over at Simon.] Get your goddamn hands off of me! [Simon turns and nails the crew member in front of him. The force of the punch sends the surprised crew man backwards into Mr. Tsuburaya, knocking both of them onto the table.] SO: [To Mr. Tsuburaya] You and the rest of your group can go to hell. LM: Stop! [Paul pushes Larry out of the way, as the crew member in front of him stupidly tries to hit Paul with a punch. Paul ducks it, and grabs the man around his waist and back suplexes him into the floor just in front of the sets back wall.] LM: Please, this is... [Simon grabs Mr. Tsuburaya and slams his head into the table. Mr. Tsuburaya falls to the floor. As Paul gets to his feet he’s nailed from behind by a metal chair--WHACK! Simon turns around quickly after hearing the sound and gets clotheslined by Agito Nakajima. It sends him over the table to the floor.] LM: Call security! [Sho Satsuma, who’s wielding the chair, picks Paul up by his hair, backs up and nails Wong with a superkick that sends him crashing into the set wall. The wall moves back a little but stays standing. Wong falls to the floor.] SS: You’re dead Wong! [BANG! As the sound is heard the scene goes black for a few seconds. The picture is restored quickly. As the camera pans around it shows Agito lying on top of the main “Countdown” camera. The huge camera is on the floor with Agito holding his back. Simon slowly stands up and charges at the table, leaps up at the last second, and the light heavyweight of the Machines, goes airborne nailing Sho Satsuma in the back with a flying dropkick. The force of the kick sends Sho into the set’s back wall careening it backwards onto the floor. Unfortunately for Simon, he falls to the floor hard. In the time he takes to get back to his feet, Agito has staggered over, pulling the camera cables with him, and wrapped them around Simon’s neck. Simon’s eyes start to bug out, as “The Universal Heartthrob” pulls tightly on the cable. His muscle tense up as he leans back. He applies more pressure when he puts his knee into Simon’s back. Larry grabs Agito by the shoulder and tries to pull him off of the Machine whose face is blood red.] LM: Come on, man! You’re going to ki... [Larry dives out of the way just in time as the chair that Sho hit Paul with earlier is now used on Agito. Wong drops the bigger of the two Fabulous Ones with a chair shot to the head. Agito falls nearly unconscious. Wong quickly jumps up on the table and holds the chair above his head and prepares to leap, but at the last second Sho pushes the table out from underneath Paul, sending him crashing to the floor. The momentum of the push of the table by Sho sends it off the foot high platform that the “Countdown” set is on. It crashes half off the set and half on. Paul gets back to his feet quickly and charges Sho, with chair in hand, but as he gets to the “ShoStealer”, he’s hit from behind with a running shoulder block that sends him into the table, “CRASH” breaking it into pieces.] LM: It’s the Kabuki Kid! Look what you just did to my table! [Kabuki Kid, wearing street clothes without make-up, shoots Larry a look. Regrouping and seeing the odds, Paul and Simon get up slowly and make tracks down the hallway to the double doors at the end. Sho and Agito run after them after Sho picks up the chair. Kabuki attends to Mr. Tsuburaya who seems to be coming around. Larry is livid. Never before has such a look of anger come across the face of the long time “Countdown” host. Just as it’s seems he’s going to explode he points down the hall. The cameraman gets the message and chases after the Fabulous Ones. At the end of the hall the double doors are open and the silhouette of the muscular duo is seen. As Sho and Agito get outside they look around. SS: Kuso, they got away! Look out! [Suddenly, from around the building a brand new silver BMW, driven by Paul Wong, with Simon O’Neal in the passenger seat, comes rushing at them. Agito nearly gets hit as he leaps out of the way. Sho has more time to react and backs up a few feet and swings the chair at the car connecting with the windshield, “CRASH”, shattering it. It doesn’t stop the Machines as they ride off. Sho and Agito, exhausted from the impromptu encounter, make it back inside. As they get to the “Countdown” set, or rather what’s left of the set, Mr. Tsuburaya is writing a check out. Larry seems a bit more calmed down now.] LM: Arigato, Eiji-kun. I’m not sure what I would have done after this. MT: Don’t worry about it. [“Aaargh!" Mr. Tsuburaya and Larry quickly look around from where the sound came from. They see Agito drop to one knee holding his back. Sho and Kabuki Kid attempt to help “The Universal Heartthrob”.] AN: I’m alright, it’s nothing. SS: [Angry] Machines! This isn’t over, until you two are DEAD! [The Fabulous Ones, with Mr. Tsuburaya and the Kabuki Kid leave the destroyed set.] LM: Let's go to a the Sychosys tape then we’ll return and hopefully be able to continue. ["Sychosys" Joe Petrow and "Mr. Majestyk" Maurice McArthur stand on the shore of a secluded beach somewhere on the Oregon coast. Both look rather inconspicuous in leather jacket and casual attire...with the exception of the IIWF World Tag Team Title Belts, with their new white leather straps around their waists. Petrow dends down to pick up a rock, and sends it skipping across the ocean about a dozen times. McArthur does the same...and watches his stone plop into the water.] JP: No no, you gotta sort of side-arm it, and then you kind of flick your wrist like this. [Petrow makes the wrist flicking motion. McArthur bends down and tries again, and gets his stone to skip four times.] JP: See, you learn fast! [Team Sychosys finally turns to acknowledge the camera] 4M: We've had a couple of weeks to reflect back on our accomplishment. And it's finally sunk in that I really am a champion. But Joe... [McArthur turns to look at Petrow] what now? Where do we go from here? [Petrow lets out a small laugh] JP: Yeah, we proved everybody wrong. As one of the #1 wrestlers in the phone book once said, adversity introduces a man to himself. Well, [Petrow holds his hands to his hips, showing off the title belt] we got a good idea of who we are now. And I think everyone else is starting to figure that out as well. But Mac, now's the time you gotta realize. We ain't done a thing yet. Look at all the tag team champions the IIWF has had in the past. Look how few have truly distinguished themselves. No, on the freeway of greatness, all we've done is get in the car and turn the key. We've made our legend possible: now we've got to make it. 4M: But how? JP: By being the "fightingest" champions of all time! By standing up to every challenge placed in front of us, and asking for more. By going beyond the call of duty, raising our voices to everyone who has ears to listen. That means all the tag teams of the IIWF. That means any two _singles_ competitors in the IIWF who think they got what it takes to put us out. Even extending the challenges _beyond_ our little world. Like those new champs in that IIWF feeder league EMWC...what's their name again? 4M: I dunno...The Fat Boys? JP: Yeah, something like that. Fat Boys, let's dance. Your place or ours, makes no difference to us. Bottom line, we'll put our titles on the line each and every time out, and gain our respect the old fashioned way. [stares at the camera, and speaks in stuff old man voice] We'll errnn it! 4M: But can we really do all that? I mean, we got the Machines coming. They already beat us once! JP: Of course we can do all that! But not by thinking about it. The only way is to take it one match at a time. Simon. That was a cute trick you pulled last time. But this time it's straight up. No tricks, no gimmicks. Just the four of us, looking to settle the score. And now, [looks down again] we've got something to lose. Not just our belts...but our right to stake our claim to being the greatest tag team of all time. But bottom line, win lose or draw, we must always stand tall, above the chaos that surrounds us. Be the rock like Gunnar Gaines, who's taking the loss of his son...[looks off to the ocean, as his voice trails off]...a lot better than I ever did. [McArthur looks down at the surf for a couple seconds. Suddenly, Petrow snaps back to attention.] JP: Sorry man, don't want to bring you down. You know about suffering too. But all that's beyond the ring. This Saturday is our first title defense, so let's worry about that for now, alright? 4M: Yeah Joe. But just one thing...can I do the Majestic Star Press to _you_ someday? I don't think you have any idea how much that hurts! [Petrow lets out a loud laugh!] JP: You really think you can pull that off!? [Petrow notices that McArthur isn't laughing, and gradually becomes serious again] We'll see if we can work it in. Now c'mon, I'll show you how to use a title belt to bag a Blue Marlin! [Petrow takes off his belt, holds it is his hands...and runs into the frigid ocean! 4M looks on from the shore in exasperation!] 4M: JOE! WHADDYA DOIN??? JP: [shivering] C-C-C'mon in! The w-w-water is f-f-ine!! [The camera picks up a sighing McArthur's parting words, "Nuttier than a sperm bank on double deposit day..." before he yells, "Alright, I'm coming already!" and heads to the water. Fade out.] [The shot fades back in to a wreckage of the Countdown set. Larry looks completely devastated as one of the crew tries to repair a chair enough for him to sit down.] LM: Um...as you see...if you didn't already see it...the Machines and the Fabulous Ones have destroyed the Countdown set...the Kabuki Kid was also here... [Larry stops as he gets instructions from off the set.] LM: We are going to stop the show here but we still have a bit more footage to show you so here are clips from our Vice-president, Greg Osterhout, Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines, and the Natural Predators to round out the show. Enjoy IIWF Saturday Night, Inside the IIWF, and Wednesday War Room before coming back here next Friday when I'm sure we'll have some kind of set to perform on. Good night. [The illustrious VP of the IIWF, Gregg Osterhout, sits behind his desk, obviously embarrased. He shuffles his papers in an important manner and tries to avoid the camera's eye as it sits upon him. Finally, he can hold out no longer.] GO: I made a mistake. Yes, even I make mistakes. I backed the wrong horse, so to speak. I placed my faith in a man whose claimed honesty and integrity, but he was already in the dvilsh grip of demon drugs. Ike Sampson, I don't know how you can still look at your face in the mirror every morning. Because of test results announced at Ring Wars, Ike Sampson was banned from competing in the IIWF. But I made another mistake. In my exhausted state, I handed the offending urine sample to a ringside fan. [A tape of Ring Wars replaces the VP. It shows Osterhout exiting, handing the plastic cup to a cherubic english lad at ringside. The VP appears again.] Sampson's lawyres have begun litigation to fight the ban in light of the fact that I can no longer produce evidence. However, Sampson will remain banned until such time as the courts decide otherwise. In related news, this office is offering the reward of $1,000 to the young lad to whom I handed the sample of urine. Just send it parcel post and you'll recive a nice big check. Be a goo boy and do what's right for the IIWF. And one last thing..."Wrestle Clean!" is NOT DEAD! As long as Takeo Mushashi haunts ringside...as long as Serge Annis flicks his Bic... there will be a "Wrestle Clean!" program. I am currently accepting applications for one wrestler who stands out amoungst the rest and will carry the banner into the next century. [He stands, dramatically, poking his fist into the air and spilling coffee all over the floor.] GO: I think we better cut the video here, guys. [Fade] [SCENE: The living room of Gunnar and Cheryl Gaines in Portland, Oregon. The couple is seated on the couch. Several vases of flowers are placed on the endtables to either side of the couch.] GGG: I just wanted to say ... uh ... [to Cheryl] I can't do this. This is too hard. CG: Go on, Gunnar. Tell them. [She puts a hand on his shoulder and grips it. He looks down and nods.] GGG: Well ... when Cheryl and I lost our child, we thought it was just _our_ loss. Something limited to me, my wife, and the Gaines and Chesapeake families. But then a strange thing happened ... something that has never happened to me before. We were getting cards. We were getting letters. We were getting e-mail, and we were getting flowers. I didn't quite know what to think, until I realized ... this child was the _fans'_ child, too. It wasn't just _our_ loss ... it was _their_ loss, too. They listened last fall when we announced Cheryl was pregnant. They followed along and charted her progress as little Justin grew. And I realized that _we_ are a part of this business ... and this business is a part of _us_. And that's very personal. [He turns to Cheryl. She nods, smiling. He continues.] GGG: What we want to have tomorrow is a _service_ for little Justin Lawrence Gaines. For the fans. _You_ haven't had the chance to say goodbye. _We_ did, but you didn't. And now, tomorrow, you will. CG: You're forgetting something ... GGG: Oh, yeah. There have also been some wrestlers, and we didn't exactly invite them to our service from earlier. DTA, we always say. Well ... we were wrong, in this case. So Moxy Blue, Duncan MacBeth, Serge Annis, Eddy Jacks, everyone else ... ... you're welcome too. And especially you, Joe Petrow. I appreciated talking to someone who has experienced my kind of sorrow. Some people watching might not know what I'm talking about, but you do. I'll let you explain it to them in your own way. I just wanted to say I enjoyed sharing my pain with you. It felt good. You've been a good friend, Joe. I want you to be there. CG: Thanks, everyone. We'll see you on Saturday. I think Justin would have liked this. [Fade.] [Lights up, Grey Phoenix dressed in his wrestling outfit talking to Kuyler. Kuyler is dressed in his usual outfit, with a clipboard in his hands. ] GP: You see what I mean though. Bear's been filling out these sheets for the past month. He's building himself up...See? KG: Uh-huh, increased reps, increase in pounds...weight to muscle ratio? GP: I've never seen him like this, Kuy...it's like he has this utter focus that he never had before. KG: Well, I'm not surprised. I mean, with "Glitz" Petrow and "52 Pick Up" McArthur and the rest of the Elmore Leonard crap watching basement dwelling Sicko-paths holding a title that deserves some respect, yeah, I'd call it only fair. GP: Look, Kuy, I wanted to ask you something. KG: Yes, Michael...? GP: What the Prophets said. They're the only team in the IIWF we haven't pinned down or clearly beaten that we've faced. KG: Mm-hmm...we have a challenge pending for a rematch. GP: I want more. KG: What do you mean? GP: Give them our spot in line if they beat us. [silence] KG: What? GP: Look, we've got a clear track back to our titles. Bear's getting stronger, 4-D is the strongest union this federation's ever seen...We can win the titles at any given point, you know that. KG: But with the Prophets? GP: Kuyler, they're the only team to cleanly beat us, Down Syndrome, and Sychosys in consecutive matches...we can beat them, either now or later... KG: You want closure? GP: Pretty much it, yeah. KG: [sighs] Let me see what I can do. I'm still trying to get that other idea of yours off the ground. I don't fancy your chances in a match like that. GP: He said it Monday. Any challenger. It's a challenge. KG: You can't beat him, you know that. GP: I know. But sometimes you have to go into a match knowing you'll lose, so the next time you can win. KG: You're insane, Michael. [Grey Phoenix grins] GP: Tell me about it. Damn Discordiacs are going to be playing all sorts of chaos from now on. So we take what we can now. KG: Five dregs. Not overly worried about it. Joe Petrow's the one I worry about. GP: Why's that? KG: May tarnish the belts before you two get them back. Go on. Enjoy your week off. [Grey Phoenix mock-salutes, smiling] GP: Yes, _sir_. [He exits. Kuyler turns his attention back to the clipboard] KG: May be able to give Bear's rep as "Strongman" something to do as well... [Camera fades.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+