C + O + U + N + T + D + O + W + N T + O ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/..............\........|...|.......|....| with Larry Morton 17 April 1998 [Instead of the usual shot we see the Countdown set in the midst of what seems to be a riot. A caption at the bottom of the screen reads "Last Week on Countdown". We watch as the brawl involving the Machines, the Fabulous Ones, Mr.Tsubaraya, and the Kabuki Kid demolishes the set. The clip switches to slow-motion as the Countdown logo falls to the floor. The shot blurs out of focus and back in on the logo in its new position...propped up on a table behind two, less comfortable-looking chairs behind a beat-up looking desk, recognizable as being from the old Countdown set. Sitting in one of the chairs is Larry Morton.] LM: Welcome to Countdown to IIWF Saturday Night! I'm Larry Morton and we're broadcasting from what is left of the set after last week's altercation between the Machines and the Fabulous Ones. It just so happens that our guest host this week is none other than one of the men who perpetrated this travesty... Simon O'neal. I'd just like to say that I am not thrilled about this. A man's set is his castle... and they've destroyed mine! Sure, Tsurabaya promised to repair it but he was called away to Japan to handle the King of the Cruisers match where the Kubuki Kid... well, while we're on the subject, let's recap Wednesday War Room which included the two King of the Cruisers matches which appeared on SJPW Ring Wars last week. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| REWIND: IIWF Wednesday War Room - 15 April 1998 |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... - Valthurius the Mad def. El Super Gecko - "Vagabond" Chris Staley def. Scott "the Whine" Bloom - The NorthPac Coalition def. the Barnacle Brothers - The Natural Predators def. the Rotundos - "Playboy" Ronnie D def. "Superior" Sean Stevens - "Iconoclast" Sean Watts def. Kabuki Kid - Charles Scheffield def. Edmund Fitzgerald by forfeit - Derek Mota def. Christopher Stonebreaker LM: So we have seen two more men eliminated from the King of the Cruisers tournament, including the Kabuki Kid! Serves him right for helping to wreck my set! We get two more first round matches tomorrow night, including the one featuring our own Cruiserweight Champion! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| PREVIEW: IIWF Saturday Night - 18 April 1998 |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... LM: Allow me to introduce my guset for this week... one of the men responsible for the carnage surrounding me... Simon O'Neal. [No music plays, because the PA system was damaged last week. Instead, Simon O'Neal simply walks up to the podium. He's wearing his normal wrestling outfit: a black jacket, grey fedora, and dark sunglasses. His black glove on his left hand completes the ensemble. He looks around the set with a look of disdain before pulling out the folding chair and sitting down, setting his feet on the old desk.] LM: Simon O'Neal, welcome to Countdown to Satur... SO: ...day Night. It's certainly a pleasure for you yadda yadda yadda. LM: And where's your partner, Paul Wong? SO: Paulie's around. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF World Heavyweight Championship Match: Steve "The Fury" Kowalski vs. "Enigma" Takezo Musashi ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: What a main event we have coming tomorrow night! The IIWF's main man is taking on the man who has been widely called the craziest, most dangerous athlete in the federation...maybe the sport! SO: I like the Enigma. He's mean, dity, and creative. And he'd wipe the mat with just about any single's wrestler in the IIWF. But he's facing Kowalski, who's just as mean, just as dirty, just as creative... and a hell of a lot bigger. Give it to Kowalski, but take the points. LM: There's no gambling in wrestling... what? [Simon has a wide smirk on his face.] SO: No gambling. Right. If you say so, Morton. LM: Well, I... do know one thing! This match is going to be so hard hitting that those who thought that the Annis/Watkins match was too violent might want to consider sitting this one out! Let's hear from the champ! [The steam rising off the street, the chatter of the ancient language in the night air. The smells of fish and untamed spices fill your nostrils. Maybe it's the glowing paper lanterns or numerous street side shops. It could be the years that melt away as you walk down the alleys. Chinatown, NYC is truly one of the metro wonders. Even this small ambassador to the far east, forces you to admire the simple way of life the Asian community feels. And although its called Chinatown, there are numerous nationalities that fill the streets: Chinese, Japanese, Malaysian, Korean, etc. But tonight, an American stands out in the masses. Steve Kowalski, dressed in a long shoreman's overcoat, walks through New York's gem of the east.] SK: Saturday night, its gonna happen. Fury... 'Nigma. God knows what's gonna happen. Knowin' yer crazy ass, it outta be violent. It'll put the "M" in mayhem. But ever time think of ya, it brings back memories. Memories of a young, angry punk that went off to Japan to make a name of himself. At nineteen, I blew off Portland the first time. I blew off the stupid Nor'easter Hooligan gimmick an' jumped a boat to the mama of all rice beds. [The big man buys a Tsing Tao beer from a nearby cart and moves on. Tourists are very common in this part of town, but it's apparent he is getting stares from the locals. It's something he's used to.] It was a matter of days that I learned how a professional takes his career. I ain't talkin' 'bout common courtesy, I'm talkin' 'bout givin' it yer all an' not holdin' back. I ain't never had to much respect fer any other wrestlers 'til I met guys like "Intimidator" Woo Fat, The Excellent Mau, an' Shanghai Drive-by. Whether I like 'em or hated 'em, they had honour. A lot of the Asian guys carried themselves with a certain amount of dignity. Somethin' that _you_ don't have, Mushi. Where did ya go wrong? When was it that ya lost yer honor? 'Cause let me tell ya somethin'... ya ain't gettin' it back by facin' me. That suicide [BLEEP] went out in WWII. [Kowalski walks the streets a little more. Just crossing the path of a stir fry cart, he turns the corner. On the brick wall in front of him is a poster of an old IIWF show that was held at Madison Square Garden. The picture on the Poster is that of the Enigma. The main event at that show was a much anticipated bout against the Angel of the Sun. Three young, Asian school boys are looking at the poster... shaking their heads. One boy picks up a piece of trash and throws it at the picture. All three boys run off at the sight of the New Jersey Nightmare in the shadows.] I 'member kids tearing down a poster of me, when I was wandering around in Malaysia on an off day from a tour. I was pissed, but I could understand. I was the foreigner an' had to earn my place among their heroes. I seen this a number o' times. But, Mushi, how many times ya seen kids smear one of yers? Yer own people have turned their back on ya. I was told once that 'A man wit' no honour is dead to the world.' I don't remember who told me that... I don't remember why they did, but they must've been talkin' 'bout ya. [Leaning back against the wall, the reigning IIWF champion sighs.] I know yer think yer the chaos-bringer. The wild man on acid. Whatever game ya wanna play. I know yer last mission, yer last chance to send this whole thing tumbling down is the belt. With it, ya'll have more control over everyone else, doin' as ya please. But that ain't gonna happen. Two reasons. One: the Double Eye doesn't want a lunatic like ya at the helm. Hell, they can barely handle me at the top. Two: ya hafta go through me. It'll be ugly. I don't have the grace ya do. I ain't got a whole boat load of moves, like ya. I don't even have them nifty karate pants, ya wear. But I got one thing. I got me the belt. An' ya don't. Ya know as well as I do, that I don't submit. So yer gonna hafta pin me. Ya can hurt me. Ya can break me. But ya ain't gonna pin me. 'Cause ya lost yer honour. An' it'll take an honorable hero to slay this dragon. [Walking past the old IIWF poster, Steve rips it down and throws it away. The sound of oriental strings fill the air. The sound of laughter accompanies it. Then silence. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF World Tag Team Championship Match: Team Sychosys vs. Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines & Caleb Temple ------------------------------------------------------------------------ SO: Okay, here's just one more example why the tag team situation is a laughing stock. You see a title match like this signed and you start thinking the rumors are true. LM: What rumors? SO: That Spreadbury decided to kill off the tag team division... LM: That's ridiculous! "Grizzly" Gaines is one of the greatest wrestlers in the world. SO: Sure he is... he's one of the greatest SINGLES wrestlers in the world. Singles. This is tag team. This is a whole new ball of wax. This involves teamwork, trust, a whole new dimension of thinking. I've seen several so-called "Superstars" choke when involved in a tag team situation. Gaines has done nothing... I repeat, NOTHING... to deserve a tag team title match. If Spreads or Osterhaut actually gave a damn about tag teams, they'd give it to a real contender. LM: Like yourselves. SO: Or the Predators. Or the Down Boys. Or the Prophets. At least those teams can make a case they deserve a title shot. The Machines aren't the only title contenders... just the best. LM: Both teams for this big affair had comments for our viewers this week. [A black screen. Silence. Small white letters appear on the bottom.] Courtesy of NCW. Nightmare on the Net October 31, 1996 [The screen stays black, as various commentary blends into a over-writes itself:] Tuttle: No one on either team is a total stranger to their counterparts! Porteax and Ramos have had MANY battles with Lankford and Speece in several federations besides NCW....Mark Destructo is WELL acquainted with the Fury family....and the two mystery men on the Awesome Alliance team are supposed to be men who HATE Taylor and Newkirk's guts, so obviously... Fletcher: THE FINAL MAN IN THE TOWER OF DOOM WILL BE...... [The Ultimate Warrior's theme music starts.] Flagg, T-Bone, Tuttle: HUH? Fletcher: " T H E H E A R T B R E A K K I D " J O E P E T R O W ! Flagg, T-Bone, Tuttle: WHAT? Flagg: ...hatred between these two men REALLY runs deep...especially after Petrow's recent insinuations about he and Blaze, but... T-Bone: TAYLOR IS REVERSING THE FIGURE-FIVE....HE'S ROLLED IT OVER AND NOW PETROW IS IN... T-Bone: PORTEAUX HAS RECOVERED FROM THE SOUTHERN CROSS....AND NAILS PETROW!!! Ramos and Porteaux set Fury and Petrow up....AND SLAM THEM TOGETHER OVER THE TRAPDOOR!!!! Both men fall... Tuttle: Newkirk is going over to pull Taylor off of Petrow! Taylor has been kicking away on the seemingly unconcious Petrow! Damage Inc. exits the... Flagg: Now it's just left for Petrow to leave....He's standing at the door....what's he doing? Tuttle: He's looking over at Blaze! T-Bone: His teammates are urging him to leave the cage....BUT PETROW GETS A SMILE ON HIS FACE AND.....HE YANKS THE DOOR SHUT!!!! Flagg: WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING? Flagg: Petrow has gotten the house microphone... what's he thinking... HBK: Pop quiz, Chris. You've just beaten the hell out of your worst enemy, and he's hangin' on the ropes in a dazed stupor. What do you do? Answer: YOU CHALLENGE HIM TO A MATCH! That's right Taylor, "any place" is here! "Any time" is now! And "any rules" means you haul your ass back up that cage and we do this all over again! And hurry up, me and Blaze have a lot of catching up to do! T-Bone: THE INDECENT PROPOSAL MATCH!!! Taylor challenged Petrow to face him under any stipulations, any time, any place! Petrow said he would, but only when he was ready and if Petrow wins....he gets BLAZE!!! Flagg: Petrow kicks Taylor again and heads for the trapdoor....BUT TAYLOR MANAGES TO HOLD ONTO PETROW'S LEG!!! TAYLOR IS NEARLY DEAD, BUT WON'T GIVE UP HIS WIFE WHILE HE CAN... Flagg: PETROW IS MOVING TAYLOR OVER TOWARDS THE TRAPDOOR!!!! HE'S NOT GOING TO DO WHAT I THINK HE... Flagg: "HEARTBREAK KID" JOE PETROW IS ABOUT TO....HE PILEDRIVES TAYLOR THROUGH THE TRAP DOOR TO THE CAGE BENEATH!!!! Flagg: Taylor has come back to life and is raking Petrow's face into the cage floor! PETROW IS BUSTED OPEN!!! Flagg: Taylor picks Petrow up....sets him for a POWERBOMB.....AND MOVES OVER TO THE TRAPDOOR....IT'S PAYBACK TIME.... T-Bone: OH LORD! Flagg: TAYLOR WITH A POWERBOMB THROUGH THE TRAPDOOR TO THE CENTER OF THE RING IN CAGE ONE!!! Flagg: Petrow is picking Taylor up....GORILLA PRESS...almost....YES HE HAS TAYLOR UP IN A GORILLA PRESS POSITION....AND DROPS HIM ON HIS BACK!!! PETROW OFF THE ROPES....BIG SPLASH!!!! T-Bone: God, we've gone off the deep end! Flagg: Taylor looks around for Petrow....AND SEES HIM MAKING PELVIC THRUST MOTIONS AT BLAZE!!! Taylor: AAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Tuttle: TAYLOR IS A MAN POSSESSED!!! TAYLOR GRABS PETROW FROM BEHIND... Flagg: ...Taylor....IS GETTING SOMETHING OUT OF HIS BOOT!!! PETROW TURNS AROUND... AND IS CAUGHT IN THE FACE WITH A FIREBALL FROM TAYLOR!!!! Flagg: Petrow is rolling on the floor, clawing at his own face! TAYLOR GRABS PETROW'S LEG.....[huge crowd pop]....AND LOCKS THE FIGURE-FIVE LEGLOCK ON PETROW!!!! Flagg: Petrow is SCREAMING....SOMETHING GAVE!!! SOMETHING JUST GAVE IN PETROW'S LEG!!!! TAYLOR IS RELEASING THE HOLD, BUT HE'S STILL POUNDING AWAY ON PETROW!!!! THE CROWD IS... Flagg: TAYLOR IS ROARING LIKE SOME FERAL ANIMAL AS HE'S POUNDING AWAY ON PETROW!!! EVEN NEWKIRK, DESTRUCTO, AND DAMAGE INC LOOK AMAZED AT... Tuttle: TAYLOR IS LIFTING PETROW UP BY THE NECK....PETROW'S LEGS ARE DANGLING LIMPLY...HIS ARMS ARE TRYING TO BREAK THE CHOKE, BUT HE'S GETTING WEAKER!!! TAYLOR IS JUST HOLDING PETROW IN THE... Tuttle: PETROW HAS GONE COMPLETELY LIMP!!! HE'S EITHER DEAD OR UNCONSCIOUS!!! [The last word reverberates into a long lasting echo, as the screen gradually changes from black, to dark grey, to light grey, to white, before more is heard:] Flagg: Well, they've got the tower disassembled, but Petrow is STILL in the middle of the ring! They're afraid to move him! NUKE was stretchered off wearing a neckbrace, but... T-Bone: ...an oxygen mask and a neck brace already on his bloodied, burnt face, but they can't move him... Flagg: ...we apologize for the delay, but obviously a man's life hangs in the balance... T-Bone: ...finally got him on the stretcher with a back board, neck brace, and oxygen mask....they're slowly making their way up the aisle.... T-Bone: What's he doing? Can the cameras pick up what he's saying? Flagg: I think so, go to the cameras.... Knight: Is he gonna live? EMT: Maybe....we have to get him to the hospital NOW! Knight: Joe....Joe can you hear me? Joe.....THIS IS FOR THAT STUPID COMMERCIAL!!!! HIROSHIMA MOTHER[BLEEP]! Flagg: BRIAN KNIGHT TAKING THAT BASEBALL BAT TO THE RIBS OF THE UNCONSCIOUS JOE PETROW! Flagg: Brian Knight is one UPSET individual! This match is going to be HELL!!! Knight looks ready to KILL!!! [The words "KILL! KILL! KILL!" ring on, and on...] [The scene suddenly changes. Changes to "Sychosys" Joe Petrow and "Mr. Majestyk" Maurice McArthur, in casual inconspicuous clothes [save for the white IIWF tag team title belts around their waists] walking along a pictureesque street on a sunny day. A nearby street sign reads "State Street" and a sign in the distance can be made out to read: Welcome to Salem Riverfront Park As they continue walking, Sychosys speaks, half to the camera, and half to an intently listening Maurice. JP: ...y'see, there's always a danger in being too good at your job. You never see it at the time, but it's there. The NCW brought me in as a hired gun to get some heat for their champ. We'd worked together a lot over the past few years, so it was a natural, see. But this time, we decided to really push the envelope. Make it out so that I would be insinuating that I had an affair with his wife, drive him crazy bit by bit, and then, in the middle of another match, take him up on his challenge to fight him for the right to have his wife for one night. To do anything I wanted. I understood it was all a show. I thought he did too. But it was still hard for me. Because there was a woman who was going to have my son. Women were a dime a dozen back then, and I really couldn't commit to anybody. Still, she was something special. So kind, so gentle. Somebody who actually cared about me. Not the facade... about _me_! It's a shame I couldn't feel the same about her... or about anyone. But I figured if I was ever gonna be a daddy, then there wasn't anyone else better suited to be his mommy. But I knew she was a delicate person. And I knew how much she worried about me. And I had a feeling...a funny feeling...that there was gonna be trouble. So I asked her. Hell, I begged her. Don't watch the match. Maybe saying that worried her more, but I tried to soothe her. I said that whatever happened that I would be fine. I would always be fine. And from here on out, I would always be there to protect you. But please, for the baby's sake if not mine...don't watch the match. And she promised she wouldn't. And then the match came. And I was very good at my job. Too good. The man snapped. And I couldn't stop him...I couldn't stop him from taking me to the seventh level of hell. And then a man I supposedly "wronged" before took me to the eighth. All the gore and terror of the moment captured live in technicolor for anyone to see. And she...[Petrow stops walking for a second]...she was watching. [Petrow stands there saying nothing for several seconds, Maurice looking very concerned. Then, Petrow picks himself up, and then continue, veering off in another direction, towards the river.] She went into labor. A very difficult one in her state of mind. She didn't make it. And the baby that only had 5 1/2 months to prepare for this moment...they said he fought. Fought like a lion. Fought more than anyone the doctor had ever seen, so he said. Four days, four days, what kind of pain did that poor little thing feel in four days, alone in the world in that condition? Just when they thought he might have a ghost of a chance of making it, he finally couldn't take any more. At least, that's what they told me when I woke up from the coma... [Petrow let's out a slight little laugh to himself] JP: Things like that tend to change a man's priorities in life, y'know. But I think that's why I'm so aware of what's going on around me. My eyes are always open. And I can never close them again. [Camera shifts to a long distance shot of a large tree by the river. Two people standing beneath it can be made out, one significantly smaller than the other. TS is walking towards them...] JP: But Maurice, you know why we're here today? Not off visiting the grave of Jeffery Michael or something gloomy like that? 4M: ...no.... JP: Because I've had enough gloomy memories in my life. I want to do something positive. Maurice, you told me your story once. You wanna talk about it again? 4M: [startled] What!? You mean, in front of...[looks at the camera] JP: You don't have to. 4M: [looks down at the ground, and keeps walking] No, it's okay. It's the least I can do. Three years ago, I was married to a beautiful woman. We had a beautiful son. I thought that no matter what I failure I had been in my life before, we would always be a family, and we would always be happy. Then one day, I came home to a note. A note explaining why she had left me. All I remember really was one line that stuck me like a dagger. "I don't want our son to know what a loser his dad is." He was just a toddler then. I haven't seen him since. I guess...I guess she got her wish... [Petrow rushes in front of McArthur, puts his hands on McArthur's shoulders to stop him, and looks him in the eye, a smile on his face.] JP: Mac. You gotta be like me. You gotta open your eyes. [With that, Petrow steps aside, and points to the tree from before, which has since become a lot closer. The figures that were there before are now clearly discernable as a woman and a small child. Maurice goes into shock...face goes pale...eyes grow wide...struggling to find the words by which to rectify the situation in his mind.] 4M: ...c-Conor? CONOR!? [The young boy sprints away from the tree] YB: DADDIIIEEEEE! [Seeing the boy running towards him, McArthur runs to meet him halfway. Pan back to a long distance view. Petrow standing quietly at the far left edge of the screen, the woman standing under the tree at the far right, and the two other figures moving towards the center, finally embracing in the middle in the grassy field, Maurice McArthur embracing his son again for the very first time. Slow fade out...] [SCENE: Black. At the center of the screen, the words "Gaines Family Values" are written.] VOICE: Joseph Petrow. Portrait ... of a hypocrite. [Fade in. Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines is sitting on a loveseat with his wife Cheryl at their home in Portland. Between them, they hold their infant son, Justin, in their laps. The child sleeps peacefully. The camera focuses on his father ...] GGG: [gentle voice] Joe, Joe, Joe ... Your hostility ... so misdirected. Your rage ... so misinformed. [He smiles, scratching his beard.] GGG: When it seemed to all the world that Justin here was dead -- dead by the Meatman's hand -- where was your anger? Why did you not pop out of the crowd and attack _him_? I know that MY actions have caused you great personal distress. But come on, Joe! The fact that little Justin here is living and breathing should be news of great JOY to you! But no! You act like a little lie is a far worse crime than the actual murder of which Meatman was originally accused. When he was dead, all I got was a token [mimicky voice] "I know what you're going through." [disdainfully] You make me SICK, Joe Petrow. And the same goes for you, Bear. Get a God damn clue, both of you, and realize that I _will_ defend my family and I _will_ play whatever mind games I damn well please, and ain't no way any lily-livered twerps like you are going to stop me. You can take your self-righteous indignation and shove it straight up your tailpipes, because if I had your attitudes, my kid might really be dead! CG: Where is your sense of priorities, Joe? Do you begrudge us our happiness in being the proud parents of a healthy baby boy? Are you distressed because we have something you don't? [Cheryl stops. Sadly, she looks down ... ] CG: I'm sorry you feel that way ... [Gunnar clasps hands with Cheryl, then puts the full weight of the baby on her lap. He stands. He walks away from Cheryl and Justin ... off towards another part of his home in Portland. The den.] GGG: Family protection, Joe. The number one Gaines Family Value is _protection_. I attacked Meatman not only physically, but _psychologically_ ... because what he did was an _attack on my FAMILY_, son, and The Baddest Thang Running will not tolerate that. Protecting the family ... that's a MAN's job. It's something handed down to me from generation to generation. It's a Gaines family tradition. And so, I have a simple question. [Gunnar snickers to himself.] GGG: Are you a _man_, Sycho Joe? [Gunnar smiles, scratching his beard and searching his mind ... ] GGG: I ask that for two reasons. One, you obviously didn't understand why I did what I did. And second, you have FAILED to be a man and protect the budding family _you_ once had. I know your story, Joe. You were beaten savagely -- so savagely that your girlfriend miscarried and died just from watching it. Your protection _failed_ her, Sycho Joe. YOU failed her. Because you see, son -- if you could have defended yourself, none of this would have happened. She'd be alive ... your _child_ would be alive. See? Don't you feel better? Gunnar Gaines just taught you what being a man is all about. But no. You left yourself vulnerable. You made the wrong decision. You FAILED to be a man. And now, you have to live with that. [Gunnar stops, leaning against a desk in his den. On the wall behind him there is a fine oil painting of his grandfather wrestling in the 1930s, then known as Lumberjack Gaines. Gunnar continues ... ] GGG: Now, like before, you have nade the wrong call AGAIN, son. Instead of congratulating me for successfully defending my family, you attacked me. You attacked, and you foolishly put your tag team gold up in the process. You wanted to make me PAY for your tragic past ... and you'll try it one more time this Saturday. Well, I didn't _ask_ you to put those belts on the line ... did I ... [He grins, as Caleb Temple steps into the shot ... ] ... but me and my friend here will be more than happy to take them from you this Saturday night. YOU, son, and your little fart stain of a partner will be the one doing ALL of the paying. Why? Because you're not HALF the man that Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines is, nor is "Sychophant" Maurice MacArthur even a _hundredth_ the man that Caleb Temple is. The hell with any recent success of his ... he's a bug on our God damn windshield. [Gunnar turns and speaks to Caleb] GGG: Introduce yourself to the people, my man ... [Caleb, dressed in his customary attire of black jeans and silver-buckled boots, and a sleeveless black t-shirt with a white cross emblazoned over the heart, looks somewhat less ebullient than his partner. Dark, damp strings of hair hang over his pale, scowling face, and his breathing is quick and shallow. He stops, inhales deeply, composes himself, and speaks in his usual soft, Southern drawl.] CT: "With faith he made his home in the promised land".... [He chuckles softly.] CT: Hebrews 11:9. And might I add it's good to be here. [Gunnar snickers.] CT: You know, Brother Gaines, it seems such a long time since I last stepped inside a ring with you. But I remember that night as if it were only yesterday. I remember the searing pain I felt ripping up and down my spine, and I remember how _tortured_ I felt as I lay there, my career seemingly ebbing away forever. You don't forget feeling like that. And you don't forget what _caused_ you to feel like that. That's why I'm glad we're on the _same_ side this time, Gunnar. [Caleb does a Grizzly Grin.] CT: So, on the eve of your tragic end, Team Sychosis, and rest assured, tragic it _will_ be... on what you might even call your "Eve of Destruction", I would like to offer you a prayer. Because you don't _HAVE_ one. The big man here, well, _I_ know what he's capable of more than anyone else. And I'm sure you two have a pretty rough idea too. So I guess that makes me the "unknown quantity" in this match, doesn't it? That's not the situation you really want to find yourselves in, boys. [Gunnar taps the side of his head with his right index finger.] CT: Because when you try to get in here, you wind up getting hurt. And hurt badly. [Gunnar smiles, tapping his own head, but it apparently escapes the notice of Temple.] CT: You two think you know a little about 'Sychosis', about mind games? [He shakes his head.] CT: Boys, you're about to come face to face with the _MASTERS_ of mind games. [He chuckles softly to himself.] CT: Trust me. [Gunnar laughs and mouths the words "Oh, I do." Then he takes his turn.] GGG: Speaking of games ... people ask me why I've signed up to partner with Caleb Temple when we fought to the near death just last August. A couple of twiddle-brained announcers tried to make a big deal of it just last Tuesday. Such talk is crap. Complete and utter crap. Dan Spreadbury has just lucked into every promoter's wet dream: Gunnar and Caleb on the same side. He won't admit it, but he has. He just doesn't want to be responsible for what happens as a result. We're here to rip heads off and use them for basketballs, and we're going to put on a dunkfest that would make the Portland Trail Blazers jealous. To explain why, let's go to the verse Brother Caleb just quoted. In Hebrews 11, those who went to the promised land did not get what they were promised. They got something BETTER. We only signed for this match to get revenge on two idiots. But now ... those belts lie before us for the taking. And we shall take them. [Caleb nods, smiling.] GGG: Don't believe it? Does Gunnz and Cal on the same team make you a bit... _skeptical?_ [Gunnar laughs] GGG: The fact is, _I_ know Caleb Temple better than anyone, as much as he knows me. He's been like a spiritual advisor of sorts. If you want to build your house upon the rock, there's no more solid rock than Caleb. He's as solid as they come. I know, because I tried to take him apart, and he's still here. That won't be true of YOU, Team Sychophants. I, Gunnar Gaines, can personally assure you that you won't be tough enough, you won't be reckless enough, you won't be devious enough, you won't be smart enough ... and you won't quite be BAD enough ... to measure up to the Baddest Thangs Running. [Caleb shakes his head solemnly.] GGG: You two kids think otherwise? Well, there's only ONE thing you've gotta do, and ain't no one done it yet. [Gunnar and Caleb thumb to themselves.] BOTH: BEAT _US_ -- IF YOU CAN! [Fade.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Intercontinental Championship Tournament-First Round Match "Party Maniac" Marty Marnett vs. "Real Deal" Luke Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: The Intercontinental tournament is kicking off with a couple of great matches! Marty Warnett won the right to the number one seed in the Battle Royal last week but the Real Deal is anything but an underdog! Who do you pick in this scrap, Simon? SO: Luke. Next match. LM: You seem confident. SO: Marty Warnett is a loser who got lucky. Luke Steele is the most underrated wrestler in the IIWF. LM: You are a little biased -- the Machines worked with Luke Steele in the past. SO: That's because we were smart enough to recognize talent. Luke's slumming right now with the Down Boys, but he's still one of the better wrestlers around. Besides, he's a fellow Clevelander. On the other hand, Marty Warnett is Bon Jovi on steroids. LM: [panicking] Don't say that! SO: [sighing] Fine. Warnett is a cross between Bon Jovi and Ike Sampson. LM: Better. [Pauses] Wait! [O'Neal chuckles as Larry regains his composure.] LM: Marty Warnett has a few comments for our cameras and then I caught up with Luke Steele in our special segment "Up Close & Personal". [SCENE: IIWF Towers, in a small room crammed with video monitors; there, several tired and beleagured employees work endlessly, viewing numerous camera footage from Ring Wars V, editing the mastered copy desparately to try to reach the deadline for the video release. Two staff sigh, as they realise that the only choice to avoid a blown spot in-ring is a crowd shot. To the side, alone, sits Marty Warnett, feet up on the table, swigging a can of Mooselips. He sits watching video footage on two screens. To the left is a video montage of Marty's greatest bouts within the IIWF; Lord Byron, Simon Lebec et al. To the right, recent footage. Being blindsided by Bradley Reed, being pinned by Rick Williams.] MW: Y'know, some people call losing a failure; hell, I call it an opportunity. Looking back through some of my best moments, well, seeing the worst is kinda a Ying-Yang thing, you gotta look at the worst to appreciate the damn fine things in life, like a nice piece of ass at nineteen will look like Soundbite's mum at fourty. I was stung by Soundbite's comments in recent weeks gone by. I could retort, pointing out various facts to him... but screw him, the IIWF is now in fair better hands... Essential within the existentialism of people's lives is to denigrate success, and cheer failure... now, I didn't know what happened in that Battle Royal; hell, I don't broker deals, kiss ass or whinge until I get my way. The people that matter... know that. So... for those of you who say I didn't belong in that Battle Royal. That I'm unworthy of being the number one seed in this tournament. That I'm just a glorified jobber. I say... go watch a fed where the President wrestles. Go watch a federation where egos and politics reign. Steve Roberts, you've lit a fire under my ass bigger than Annis at a barbecue. For all your lack of faith; for driving away major league talent; screw you, asshole. Everything I do, everything I achieve within the dubba-eye, you can look back on and think, "Yeah, that's down to me". Because it'll be my little way of sticking two fingers up at ya... you comment on my work ethic, whilst knowing the outward... situations that existed at the time. [Marty takes another swig of Mooselips.] MW: Yeah, you could say I'm on a mission ... a mission to regain the respect I had, to wrestle at one hundred and ten percent ... if I still can. So I watch the tapes, Ying and Yang, the good ... and the bad. Everything in balance, everything in focus. Being in a group, in 4-D has it's own responsibilities and pressures... if you make a mistake, it ripples, like a stone skimmed across a pond. Icehawk, if you feel I dropped the ball... that's up to you. Fitz, if you feel that way... I'm sorry, my friend. I should've got away and helped... [Again, more Mooselips gets drunk.] MW: But right now, like it, or not, I'm the number one seed for this tournament... and I'm represnting myself and 4-D. I will not drop this ball. I look around, there are eight champs out there in the mix; the but only one man that has held that Intercontinental strap. Should I be cocky and arrogant? Hell, no. I mean, we have Ronnie D for all that. Out there, there is a shadoe across the federation; a tough man with attitude, confidence on a roll. Tragedy, in the form of an experienced singles or tag team competitor, used to success. Meatman, a big young talent. Simon LeBec; oh boy. History destined to repeat itself? Tim Turner, the rocket man himself, although, Becky may wanna bestow that title on me; Chris Stonebreaker, a tough young gun. And you. Luke Steele. Luke "Bloated seal" Steele. Speak about history; was it not last year we met in a tournament, first round? Yet, if you pardon the Deathbringer type monologue style, are the cast the same? Moxy's a gonner, poor kid. There's no Byron around to help yas, instead you have, what Awesome T and the Down Boys? Luke, that ... win for you stare your momentum, and killed mine. Hell, you think that'll happen again? Right now, I feel it, feel that edge. Feel that instinct again ... slap that floating DDT on me. If you can. 4-D. Predators. Fitz. I walk, into the party of death, yeah, dude, I fear no "Loose Weevil". Luke, bring all you can, and then some more. [Marty slams the can down as the left monitor shows Marty holding the IC belt after the wild three-way bout against Kowalski and Shakespeare, the right the interference by milady DeWinter that cost him the belt against Byron.] DAMMIT, I WANT MY BELT BACK. [Fade] [Fade to a long shot of the Countdown studio, taped earlier today. As we see a long shot from about fifteen feet back, the wreckage from last week's brawl is visible. The camera trucks forward, the shadows lessoning to reveal the faces of IIWF interview man Larry Morton in one chair, and facing him in an opposite chair, "The Real Deal" Luke Steele. In the past, Luke Steele has had varying looks to him, from longer styles and colours to recently a shorter 'do with a darker brown shade. But now as the camera pulls in closer on him, we can see that Luke Steele sports a newly shaven look, as the studio lights gleam slightly off his chrome-dome head. Steele doesn't flash his trademark grin, which was at one time part of his charm that won the fans over, and gradually turned into a sign of his cockiness. Luke stares coldly at Larry, not looking at the camera at all. Larry, dressed in an IIWF blazer with co-ordinating slacks, takes his cue from Rusty the director and begins.] LM: Hello fans, I'm Larry Morton, here with a man who's currently in the midst of a storm of controversy, "The Real Deal" Luke Steele. Luke, you asked for this interview specifically. What is your motivation for allowing the fans to get up close and personal with you? [Steele looks at Morton, and flashes him a small smile for a second. He speaks slower than usual, more definitive and forceful than his usual diatribes.] LS: First of all, Larry, nice job getting the segment name in. [Morton grins, and gets a thumbs up from Rusty off-camera] Now I'm not usually one to ask for one-on-one interviews, that's been established before. But after everything that's happened since last Saturday, I felt the need to set the record straight... [Steele looks right at the camera, leaning forward in his chair.] About everything. LM: Well, the first place to start is obviously with your new look. What made you decide to shave your head, Luke? You've always prided yourself on your classic good looks. LS: Larry, why does everything have to have a reason? I shaved my head because I wanted a change, because I wanted to start fresh after this weekend, and I wanted to make people like you start to wonder why I did it. It's called publicity, Morton, and apparently it's a staple of life in the Double Eye. LM: Okay. Well let's change courses a little, to the Joe Petrow - Richard "Moxy" Blue match, and the fact that Moxy is no longer with the Double Eye. How are you and the rest of the Discordiacs going to survive without the leader of the group? LS: Larry, sometimes you're just too clueless for your own good. There are _no_ Discordiacs anymore. That was Moxy Blue's group, and without him, there's no point continuing. As it is, the only guys who seem to have anything to do with the Discordiacs that are left are myself, Adam and Dan. And three members just doesn't a stable make. The Discordiacs are dead. [Steele leans towards the camera again, pausing before he continues.] Do you want to know who killed the Discordiacs? I'll tell you who. It was Dan Spreadbury. And Gregg Ousterhout. And Joe Petrow. And Maurice McArthur. For that matter, it was Takezo Musashi and every other suit in IIWF Towers. LM: Luke, that's a serious charge. Of course there is a little truth in it with Moxy being given a pink slip, but still... LS: No Larry, that's not the extent of it. From the very beginning, the president, vice president, and all the yes men tried to submarine us. They were so worried that the Discordiacs might turn into some kind of second edition of Genesis, so they decided to rip the heart of the group out, and fired Moxy. I'm not so sure this whole "Wrestle Clean" garbage wasn't a big ruse to send Moxy packing. But I have a message to send to each and every one of those corporate marionettes that figured in the decision. In doing this to us, in ripping the Discordiacs apart, you let something else slip by you, something much more destructive by it's nature. You're so worried about Genesis happening all over again? You were looking at the wrong group of suspects. 4D, Dan, there's your answer. You were looking at us and stopping us from coming to prominence, when in the background it was Marty Warnett, Edmund Fitzgerald and the Natural Predators who rented last summer's pay per views and TV shows to get ideas for the future. Hell, Fitzgerald lived through it the first time, why not again? LM: 4D did start up at the same time as the Discordiacs, are you sure it's not a case of jealousy over the fact that they have stayed together through all of the Discordiacs' troubles? LS: Larry, if there's one thing I know, it's that this group may look like a joke now, but it's going to cause major trouble for the IIWF. Look back at Ring Wars 3. Did anyone ever expect Requiem to be wearing that golden strap a couple of months later? Everyone thought Genesis almost ruined this promotion. Just wait, it's going to get worse. LM: By coincidence or not, you happen to be scheduled in the Intercontinental tournament against Marty Warnett, the top seed after the battle royal. You won't have to wait long to try and unseat him, and in effect, the rest of 4D. LS: That tournament is the biggest joke yet. Macbeth and Lebec spoke a little of the truth when they said that the tournament as it is now is nothing more than a joke. But Macbeth's got too big of an ego, he actually believes that the title is worthless. [Luke looks to the camera, addressing the former champion personally.] Duncan, get over yourself. Sure, nobody beat you 1, 2, 3 for the title, but you actually think that it makes the belt worthless? There's nobody in this promotion that wouldn't give their left nut to wear that title, and easily another hundred or so guys waiting to get the call from IIWF Towers to get the chance at it. [Steele leans back in his chair, looking at Morton again.] But a battle royal was the way to decide how the tournament was filled? Give me a break. Been listening to those idiots on the Internet again, IIWF? Any idiot can win a battle royal. Look at the guys in there with Warnett and ahead of me. You've got Jimmy "The Meatman" Steele, a guy who wrestles little and speaks even less. He's been here barely four months and the suits are bending over backwards for him. Stonebreaker. Same song, different verse with ol' Stoney, and it's getting tiresome. Simon LeBec, a man who doesn't know if he wants to be a porn star, a preacher, or a wrestler. And the rest of them, talk about a motley crue. LM: What do you expect, Luke? Do you think you should be the top seed? What will make Luke Steele happy? LS: What will make me happy? That's a question I've never been asked. [Luke chuckles.] Well, it'd make me happy to see the Down Boys get a rematch with Team Sychosys. It'd make me happy to see Moxy Blue reinstated in the Double Eye. But we know neither of those things are going to happen, are they Larry? To answer your question, no, I don't think I should be the top seed. On the other hand, I do believe I should be ranked higher than Warnett. It was a lucky break that he won that battle royal, with a helping hand from Takezo Musashi. If I had my way, Duncan Macbeth would be in this tournament, just to eliminate him myself and shut him up for once. He'd be in it, and guys like Jimmy Steele, like Shadoe Rage, and like Simon Lebec, guys underserving of being in this thing, would be made to suffer like I did those first seven months, toiling in obscurity and paying my dues. LM: Careful Luke, that sounds like sour grapes. LS: It's always something else with you, isn't it, Morton? It's jealousy, or it's sour grapes, or it's envy. Some things are just what they are. But I will go on record right now Larry, and I'll state that I already know how my match against Warnett is going to go this weekend. LM: Pardon? What do you mean? LS: Just as sure as I'm living and breathing right now, 4D is going to start this weekend the same way as Genesis did. Mark my words, I'm going to get jumped from behind at some point. There are so many similarities between the intercontinental tournament this year and the world tourney last year. I've got Warnett in the first round, there's a brand new group of rulebreakers, and the suits are deadset against Luke Steele winning this tournament. But there's also one major difference, Marty. I'm not the same guy I was a year ago. I'm not the naive rookie with a catch phrase worthy enough of the almighty Soundbite. I've put a hell of a lot of blood, sweat and tears into this company, and I'll be damned if I'll let some wannabe group of thugs stand in my way _again_. But as for towing the line as a company man, ready to defend it to the death, that's not my bag anymore. Let Scheffield fight 4D. Let Ike Sampson fight 4D. Hell, call Baltimore and see if Kauffman's free again. I really don't give a damn anymore. It's ironic though, isn't it? Right up until this past weekend I tolerated Moxy Blue, and the rest of the Discordiacs. But after what Petrow did to him, and what that poor excuse for a Gecko did, nobody deserves that kind of treatment. For all the suits did to break the Discordiacs up and slow our momentum, the biggest irony of all is that it bonded us together. I haven't talked to the Down Boys, I haven't talked to Mota, and I haven't talked to Moxy. What's left to be said? "Hey guys, we're finished?" Mota, for all the trouble you started, I won't even get into the usual "You'll pay for breaking us up" that everyone must expect by now. He's as much a victim as the rest of us, and I truly swish him luck with the Cruiserweight Championship. Go on and get it, ya' tough little bastard. LM: Luke, through all of this you haven't mentioned your strategies for winning the battle royal. All you've really said is that you don't have a good feeling that you'll win this Saturday. Don't you care about the championship? LS: Spare me the moral, Morton. Of course I care about the title. No matter what happens, Luke Steele will go out and fight his damndest to bring the belt home for the fans. LM: For the fans? You aren't exactly the most popular superstar, Luke, and you're going up against the self-proclaimed Party Maniac. LS: I'm not talking about the slack-jawed Sychopaths or the one syllable Furies. There's only one group of fans who I'm interested in wrestling for, and I feel as though it's my duty to keep up the fight. That's why I'm going to say it loud and clear: Blue Crew, are you with me? [Larry stares at Luke in complete surprise.] LM: You've stolen Moxy Blue's fans? LS: I haven't stolen anything, Morton. I have no intentions of taking them and repackaging them with a cutesy name like the Steele Workers or anything. They are the Blue Crew, and they always will be the fans of Richard "Moxy" Blue. I'm just going to go out and turn the negative into a positive by winning the belt for Mox. In fact, if you want a cutesy name to use in the ads, Larry, try this one on. Saturday Night, Marty Warnett will be the first man to go down in the "Righteous Revival" Tour. 4D aside, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure history doesn't steamroll me again, and this time I've got Stone and Awesome T watching my back. LM: Thank you Luke. Do you have any final thoughts for the viewers? LS: As always. There's a thought from the movie "Tin Cup" that seems to fit the way I feel these days. There comes a time when a man has to define a moment in his life, otherwise the moment will define him. I thought my defining moment was the creation of Genesis, and it defined me. Then I thought it was the first time I used the Floating DDT, and again it defined me. Now I realize that the moment has finally arrived for Luke Steele. And I'm going to define _it_, by going out and winning the Intercontinental title. LM: Thank you Luke. Back to the studio. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Intercontinental Championship Tournament-First Round Match "The Savior" Simon Lebec vs. Jimmy "the Meatman" Steele ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: The other first round match-up features the last man to actually challenge for the title. Many fans believe that he should have received another shot rather than staging this tournament. President Spreadbury though, however, that his antics in the match with Duncan Macbeth precluded this from happening. Can he make it to the Championship the hard way? SO: No contest here. We... Voice: [from side] Phone call for O'Neal! It's your ex-wife! SO: Karen or Rachel? Voice: Diane! SO: [Pauses] Damn. How'd she get this number? [Simon walks off] LM: Wait a second! You can't... [A voice comes from behind Larry Morton.] PW: Don't worry. [Larry turns around with a startled expression and looks at Paul Wong. Paul is dressed similairly to Simon, without the glove. Paul pulls up a chair and sits down.] PW: I give them three minutes before they start screaming at each other. LM: Okay... Lebec and Steele. Your thoughts? PW: Usually, I pick the bigger wrestlers against the smaller wrestlers. But Lebec has so much more experience that I think he'll pull off the win. The Meatman's got potential, but Lebec can hold his own with anyone. LM: Right. [He turns around and mutter softly off-camera] It's not like he's hitting a woman. [Larry turns around, and off to one side we see Producer Priske jumping up and down and hollering about something. Larry looks down and sees his clip-on microphone, and realizes that his last comment was just heard by everyone... including Paul Wong.] LM: Umm... [turning red] Let's hear some comments from Jimmy Steele. [Tim Dross voice-over opens segment over video collage.] TD: These months past, we have seen Jim Steele and Gunnar Gaines embroiled in psychological warfare. [Gaines on ring apron during Meatman vs. Kowalski... Gaines caught in a bear trap... Meatman pulled frozen from a refrigerator truck... Meatman in disguise sells Gaines tainted beef... Gaines vomiting in ring.] TD: The headgames came to an end when Gaines used his own wife and newborn child to hurl Steele into a bottomless pit of guilt." [Gaines with wife in hospital... Gaines and Cheryl at gravesite.] TD: ...but did it work, or did it merely fan the Meatman's flames?" [Meat approaches ring with "The Meat is Murder" written on his apron... Jim at same "gravesite" tearing off his black jacket to reveal the bloody butcher's garb beneath.] TD: The feud is done. Gaines, with the aid of his wrestling family, bested Steele in a no disqualification match at Ring Wars -- but what price glory? Now, with the ruse revealed and the sick, depraved depths of Gunnar Gaines come to light... [Shot of Gaines holding his newborn in ring as the baby cries into the microphone.] TD: ...fans and wrestlers alike have turned against the grizzly one. [Fans hurl garbage at Gaines as he exits arena.] TD: Now, The Meatman is left to look within; to ponder his own conspicuous lack of guilt; his own bloodlust. To confront the "dark meat" within. [Close-up of The Meatman. He looks directly at the camera.] TD: This Saturday, Jimmy "The Meatman" Steele issues a chalenge to the IIWF. [Fade] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The Black Watch vs. the NorthPac Coalition ----------------------------------------------------------------------- [Larry is looking both embarassed and frightened as we come back to the show, while Paul Wong just stares at Larry. Faintly in the background, a muffled Simon can be heard yelling into a phone.] LM: Well, I .... North Watch versus BlackPac, I mean... [Paul stands up, and Larry takes three steps backwards, falling down and landing on his ass. Larry looks around, trying to find some way of getting out of there. Paul stops in his tracks, closes his eyes, and sighs.] PW: "Hitting a woman". It seems that everyone gets on my case for hitting a woman. Fine. I hit a woman. I clotheslined Ms. Miki. I tried to powerbomb her, and I tried to put her out of the sport. And if you want to condemn me for that, fine. But I want to point out one thing. She wasn't some innocent little waif. She wasn't some piece of "eye candy", like Roberts seems to say. She's not even some normal manager. Most managers would have been content to win a match. She asked me to abandon my partner. I did. She told me to leave my friends. I did. She told me to turn my back and everything I had ever done. I did. And then she dumped me. She broke my heart, and tried to take my soul. And she almost succeeded. I attacked her? Yes, I did. I'd do it again. [He opens his eyes] The bitch deserved it. And that's the last I'm going to say on the subject. [Paul walks off totally ignoring his frightened host. Larry, still sitting on the ground, indicates for some film to be rolled.] [Fade in on a small dojo in the heart of Portland. Inside we see Akira Saito kneeling in the centre of the hardwood floor wearing a gi with a simple white belt. Standing in the corner, also wearing a gi but with a pair of black sweatpants plainly seen poking out from underneath, is Tom Turner.] CTT: Don't mind Akira. He just gets a little...intense...before a match. I've never seen him this wound up though. Of course I've never seen him seeth with anger like he did last week. I can tell you one thing...I wouldn't want to be Andrew Macbeth. [At the sound of that name, Saito springs to his feet and whips a spinning thrust kick off, stopping a scant inch from Tom's face, before dropping back to a standing position.] AS: Andrew Macbeth! You have done the unthinkable! Your words have given me shame and such shame can only be cleansed by blood! Gaijin dog! Before our encounter is over you will wish you never showed your face in the IIWF! CTT: Sheesh! Andy...you are in a lot of trouble! As for Duncan...I have a bit of a bone to pick with you. I've resented you for a long time as you got to team with my brother while I cooled my heels in Japan. It just so happens that I also honed my fighting ability and became every bit the athlete as Tim. I've watched you and I've talked to my brother. I know how to beat you. [Fade] [SCENE: A miserable, rainy evening in Portland, Oregon. Down on SW Front St. near the west bank of the Williamette River that divides Portland in two, and just a stone's throw from the Burnside Bridge, the camera picks up an exterior shot of a modest-looking British-style tavern, the Boar and Thistle. The small, hand-painted carved-wood sign hanging on the front of the pub can barely be discerned through the heavy downpour typical of the Pacific Northwest in springtime, and the cameraman quickly approaches the heavy oak door of the establishment and ducks inside to avoid the chill and damp. Inside, we see a rather refined view of polished wood and brass, the well-kept interior of the bar contrasting with its modest exterior. The regulars of this establishment all seem to be working-class, expatriate Brits, the majority of whom are Scotsmen. Several large burly types who appear to be off-duty loggers are arguing in a corner near a rack of dartboards. Another group are engaged in a loud, heated conversation in a booth in the corner, pausing occasionally to laugh heartily and clink large glasses of stout together. The man at the bar is an older, stocky gentleman with a thick, iron-gray beard, and he keeps a sharp eye on the loggers as he wipes the bar to a glossy shine. A television over the bar is replaying segments from last Monday's IIWF Musings, as the door to the pub suddenly bangs open, revealing the hulking and quite drenched form of the Black Watch's Andrew Macbeth, who wastes no time in lumbering up to the bar. Andrew is soon followed through the door by his cousin Duncan, who wipes away errant strands of his damp ruddy hair from his face and joins his cousin at the bar.] AM: Evenin', Hugh. Two pints o' McEwans, an' two drams o' Laphroaig, if ye please. DM: Aye... [grinning at Andrew] ...an' two each fer me, as weal. 'Tis bleedin' chill tonigh', wha'. [Hugh nods to the cousins, and starts pulling the pints, when the group by the dartboards begin shoving each other, arguing about the score of the game. Andrew and Duncan get off their stools and turn to the disturbance, but before either can intervene, Hugh stops what he's doing and bellows at the men in a voice that carries more than the threat of violence.] H: OY, YIS LOT! SHUT YUIR GAPIN' CAKE-HOLES OR PISS OFF OOT O' 'ERE, AYE! [One of the loggers makes a move towards the bar, cursing at the bartender, but his companions manage to restrain him, but not before Hugh, thick eyebrows arched, pulls out the heavy steel bar he keeps behind the bar and points it menacingly in the logger's direction. The men at the dartboards immediately quiet down, and retreat to their table, muttering, as Hugh finishes off pouring the beer and slides the pints along to bar to Andrew and Duncan, who sip their Scotches with amusement.] H: Here yis are, lads. Sorry fer th' disturbance. DM: No' t' worry, Hugh. Say, ye e'er think about tryin' yuir hand at wrestlin'? H: Sod tha'! Th' las' fightin' I did was in th' middle o' th' Sooth Atlantic, an' once ye've been shot at by a pack o' crazy Argentinians, wha' could possibly top tha'? AM: Guid point, mate. [raises his glass] Cheers t' ye. [Hugh nods to the cousins, and moves to the opposite side of the bar, keeping his hawk's eyes fixed on the rowdy loggers in the corner the whole time. The Black Watch deconstruct their evening's training session over their pints as they watch the Musings replays on the television.] DM: Look at all these bleedin' tossers... no' a decent team in th' whole pathetic lot! Christ Jaysis, th' tacklin' dummies we used tonigh' could put up a tougher fight than these scunners! AM: Aye... I mean, th' Black Watch has no' even wrestled a match in th' IIWF yet, an' e'en now, we've got tough-talkin' eejits linin' oop t' be th' first ones t' get their teeth pounded doon their stinkin' throats! Comin' oot o' retirement will almost seem worthwhile, if only fer th' opportunity tae put th' boots tae all these rejects from th' Patty's Day Parade tha' call themselves tag teams! [The Watch looks up at the television as comments from the Natural Predators are played, with Bear, Grey Phoenix, Kuyler Grayson and their Sioux shaman Lena pictured on the screen.] AM: zzzzzzz... is tha' tripe o'er yet? DM: Jus' about, I hope. They almost had a half-decent insult goin' there, 'till they went an' blew it by actin' all proud about bein' beat by a team o' wankers like th' Down Boys. I'm no' sure how tha' supports yuir point, morons. Th' squaw's cute, though. AM: An' if tha' Gray Pigeon eejit's such a "history buff", why doesn't 'e ken tha' th' Black Watch, th' Royal 42nd Highlan' Regiment, left America fer guid in 1783, _thirty-one years_ before th' Battle o' New Orleans? Probably 'cause th' only history 'e e'er learned was from watchin' all those pathetic pro-American TBS docu-dramas in 'is tarpaper shack back on th' rez, produced by th' same people tha' massacred 'is kind an' pushed 'em off their land, _after_ 1814. Sae dinnae presume t' lecture ME about MY kind, Tonto. An' do yuirself a favour -- read a book once in awhile, if ye're able, tha' is. DM: [in a cartoon voice] I'm the Gray Pigeon! I like history! An' I'm Bear! I'm really strong an' I like to roar! Jus' like a _real_ bear! In-na-gadda-da-vida! We will bore you! [The television now shows the Fabulous Ones' spot, with "Sweet" Sho Satsuma pointing at the camera as he speaks.] SSS: "Black Watch, you better watch yourselves when you're talking about Japan, because the best damn team ever to step into IIWF just became aware of you. You run at the mouth like your something, when you're really nothing. You want a piece of the Fabulous Ones, you've got it." [Duncan sets his pint down on the bar, then stares down at his crotch in mock horror.] DM: Christ, I think I soiled meself, I was sae scared! AM: Is tha' no' th' saddest thing ye've e'er seen? Tha' wee pup, 'e's no' got hair one on 'is chin OR 'is willie, an' 'e's tryin' t' intimidate th' Watch. Soddin' bollocks, jus' look at these nancy-boys, a Freudian analyst could have a field day with these two wee sweethearts! DM: Aye... 'tis plainly obvious how they're constantly reaffimin' their heterosexuality week after week, is it no'? Jus' in case they might ferget themselves or somethin'. Those two're definitely a late-night sweaty workout session away from a guest appearance on "Ellen", tha's fer sure. A word o' advice, lassies -- don't EVER get arrested! AM: Jus' another example o' typical Japanese hypocracy. Th' ones tha' go on an' on about honour an' dignity are usually th' same ones who end up hangin' themselves in hotel rooms after they get caught embezzlin' millions from their company, or videotapin' themselves while they're diddlin' eight-year olds. 'Tis ne'er th' corruption or th' perversion tha' troubles 'em, jus' th' shame o' bein' caught. Makes me bleedin' SICK. DM: Och, but we really _should_ watch out fer these two, Andrew -- I heard tha' those Nagoya rent-boys can be real bitches, wha'. [The television is now showing the pre-match comments from the NorthPac Coalition from Wednesday War Room, and both Macbeths lean towards the TV with interest as Akira Saito speaks.] AS: "The young fool and his senior citizen cousin are going to pay dearly for their betrayal, and I hope they're watching, because what we do to those two pathetic sailors tonight will only be a shadow of the suffering we will cause the Black Watch on Saturday Night! We will put Duncan back in the hospital, and Andrew back into retirement -- for good!" DM: [grinning] Jus' th' kind o' words I like t' hear, Saito-san. All th' better t' choke ye wi'. AM: 'E's absolutely righ' though, cousin. I _am_ auld. I'm no' as quick as I used tae be, no' as sharp in th' ring... DM: Now, see 'ere, Andy... AM: [breaking into a sly smile] ...but when I'm on me bleedin' DEATHBED I'll still 'ave more than enough ability in me baby finger t' put doon a pair o' bush-league prats like th' soddin' NorthPac Coalition! They actually think fer one _second_ tha' they've got th' backbone t' go t' th mat 'gainst th' Black Watch? Let me tell yis somethin', NorthPukes -- when th' Watch gets through wi' th' two o' yis on Saturday, Saito-san won't even be able t' go back t' 'is auld job wrappin' sushi on th' street under th' Gate O' Harmonious Interest, an' th' "Constable" will nae be fit fer crossin' guard duty in front o' Happy Valley Elementary School! [Duncan Macbeth laughs, some obscurity about that comment obviously seeming funny to him, then he turns to the camera, levelling the jade glare that has become so well-known to the IIWF's singles wrestlers at the lens.] DM: An' t' th' rest o yis lame-arsed tossin' tag teams out there tha' are doin' yuir level best t' make tag-team wrestlin' extinct in this fed, I'm givin' yis one chance, an' one chance only, t' pack yuir bags an' get out o' th' IIWF while yis still can. 'Cause th' Black Watch OWNS th' IIWF tag team division! An' NorthPackers -- this Saturday, the Watch are goin' t' be servin' their first eviction notice -- on YIS! [Andrew Macbeth picks up his pint from the bar, and raises it in the direction of the camera behind Duncan.] AM: Slainte, tossers. [Fade.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- King of the Cruisers Tournament First Round Match Icehawk vs. Youth Gone Wild ----------------------------------------------------------------------- SO: [muttering as he returns to the makeshift stage.] Can't believe she wants MORE alimony! Where the hell... [looks up and sees Morton] What match are we up to? LM: Icehawk and Youth Gone Wild. SO: Oh, great. Well, Icehawk used to be in a halfway decent tag team of Cold Spell. We beat them, of course, but they were still good. This other guy is just a rocker wannabe from some minor league fed. LM: I'm sure Icehawk will have the home field advantage as well, with the Portland fans in attendance. Of course, that didn't help the Kabuki Kid. [SCENE: The now-familiar Cold Spell Training Center in northern Michigan. Icehawk and Larry Morton are seated in the tape-viewing room. Video of a Youth Gone Wild match plays on the TV.] LM: I'm here with the IIWF Cruiserweight champion, Icehawk, as he prepares for his first-round match in the King of the Cruisers tournament. How much do you know about your opponent? IH: To be honest, not a lot. Obviously, I've heard of him, and I had seen some highlights, but I didn't know anything in depth until I watched some tape of him in the last few days. LM: And? IH: I'm very impressed. In some ways, he reminds me a lot of me -- he tries stuff in the heat of the moment that probably isn't such a good idea. Like my Starsault off the top of the cage at Ring Wars. Logically, it was stupid. But I wasn't thinking logically. Anyway, I think Youth Gone Wild and I are going to give the fans a great show. And anyone who hates Serge Annis as much as he does is OK in my book. LM: Of course, along with the King of the Cruisers, you have to find time to defend your new title. Who do you see as the top contenders? IH: Obviously, Takezo Musashi is still the most dangerous man in the division, but he seems to be looking towards Steve Kowalski, which is fine with me. Those two can rip each other to shreds. Other than him, it's a toss-up. There's a lot of great cruisers in the IIWF. LM: True. Let's play a little word association -- I'll name an IIWF star, you tell me the first thing that comes to mind. IH: [slightly sarcastically] Oooh. Goody. Do we get to play with ink blots next? LM: [obliviously] Umm, no. Let's start with Tragedy. IH: A very dangerous man. He and Comedy are friends of mine now, but I don't think we will ever entirely trust each other. He has a very dark side to him, and he seems to be slipping back into it. LM: Derek Mota. IH: A shadow of a once-great wrestler. I had great respect for him last summer when he kept standing up to Genesis, but now he is reduced to beating up Moxy Blue. I don't know what his deal was during my match with Pancake Boy, but I don't see him as a top contender any more. LM: Timothy Turner. IH: I'm glad to see him get things straightened around. I don't always agree with him or his actions, but he's a superstar in the ring. If the Enigma is going after Kowalski, TNT's the top contender in my mind. LM: Tiger Claw. IH: I hope he wins his next match. I want to wrestle him one-on-one - he beat me once, but he had a lot of help. LM: Team Sychosys. IH: A flat-out joke. Petrow is a slightly-better-than-average wrestler who gets by on charisma, and 4M is a jobber who fell off the top rope and ended up with a title. LM: 4-D. IH: A great idea - which I hope doesn't turn into Genesis II. They are a bit short-handed at the moment, but I've already told Kuyler that I will fill in for Fitz whenever they need someone. LM: Finally, Edmund Fitzgerald. IH: A great wrestler and a great friend - but someone who didn't fit into the IIWF. The real Fitz was the one in Cold Spell - he didn't talk much, and he didn't have a lot of showy moves, but he won matches and championships. The Fitz that beat people up with an oar was someone else entirely - an attempt to be what the suits wanted. But he was never happy like that. LM: Have you heard from him? IH: Yes. All I'll say is that he is with his family, and he's making some decisions about the future. LM: Will he be back? IH: I don't know, Larry. He says he won't be - but he has said that before. This time, he might just be telling the truth. LM: Any final thoughts? IH: Just one - fans, don't miss tomorrow's show. Youth Gone Wild and I are going to put on a show. [Fade.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- King of the Cruisers Tournament First Round Match Big Greggy Cool vs. Chris Michaels ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: The other Cruisers matchup... SO: Big Greggy Cool. LM: How do you know? SO: 'Cause I don't know a damn thing about them, and when that happens, you go with the guy with the decent nickname. LM: That sounds like a bad episode of What's Happening! SO: I see you know your Bad Seventies TV Trivia... LM: Bad? I loved that show! DY-NO-MITE! SO: As long as it's from that show and not that Syndicate cast-off. LM: Let's hear from both combatants in this big match. [Camera opens one Chris Michaels sitting off to himself in a darkened locker room. He is sitting on a bench in front of grey lockers, his head bowed, cradled in his hands. He is wearing his ring gear, long black tights, black boots with black kneepads and shingaurds pulled over them, and black tape on his wrists. A fine layer of sweat hangs on his frame and wets his short brown hair, making it darker. Clearly, he has been warming up and working out recently. He lets out a sigh, and then sits up. He looks over to the camera. His face is grim. He shuts his eyes, and takes a moment to collect his thoughts. His eyes open, their glassy surface revealing little. Perhaps some nervousness, some trepidation, but also, an underlying intensity. He speaks in a low, but direct tone. It grabs the listener instantly.] CM: The time grows near. I have traveled to the Pacific Northwest. To Portland, Oregon. To the IIWF Colesium. I was allowed to work out today, with some of the other IIWF wrestlers, to get myself ready for the match on Saturday. [Michaels pauses, taking a second to glance around the locker room. Other voices can be heard in the back ground, and the showers are running.] CM: There is a great deal of history in this building, and that history grows with the King of the Cruisers tournament. [Michaels begins to pull his tape from his left wrist in a well practiced ritual and continues to speak.] CM: My first round opponent is Big Greggy Cool. BDC he likes to call himself. Well, BDC, you sure are a funny man. [Michaels says this without a trace of humor in his voice.] CM: You like to entertain, you enjoy playing to the fans, trying to gain a response. You like to talk, and you have your banter down pat. Now, are you all flash and no substance? [Michaels pauses as he throws his tape aside, and begins unwrapping his right wrist.] CM: I don't think so. You wouldn't be in this tournament if you weren't extremely talented. So, I am going to ignore your antics, and concentrate on your talents. That is all I care about, and all that concerns me. I have a lot to prove to everyone in this tournament, and everyone in this federation. I cannot be lax for one second, or I will be eliminated. I cannot, and_will_not let that happen. BDC, you have the talent, the athletic ability, and the charisma to beat me, but I have an undying need to win. I will fight until I have nothing left, and then, I will fight some more. I come into this match, and this tournament, putting everything on the line. Not for the ESWP, not for the IIWF. For_ME_. This is personal BDC. You stand in my way, and you must fall. There will be NO MERCY. [Michaels stares intently into the camera and stands, the camera panning up with him. The camera zooms in for a close-up of Michaels face. His eyes burn with intensity in stark contrast to his face which is set, and emotion less. Fade to black.] [The scene opens up inside the IIWF Coliseum. Big Greggy Cool is kinda lost walking around the whole thing. Big Greggy Cool is wearing a pear of beaten up Pumas, baggy jeans, a long sleeve white T-Shirt, a chain around his neck connected with a master lock, and a leather band around his wrist. Big Greggy Cool pushes back his medium length curly hair and pulls out his tape recorder.] BGC: Dear journal. It's Monday, around three o'clock. I still can't figure out the IIWF Coliseum. In my contract it says there's a fan greeting time right now outside where I'm supposed to make the Portlanders feel at home. I bet it's also gonna be a great chance to pick up some chicks. Roowwwrrrrr... If only I could find the door to get outside... [Big Greggy Cool throws open a door to what he thinks is outside. It's actually a door to the basement. Around 30 little kids are stitching "The Anvil" Daniel Spreadbury t-shirts. BGC throws the door closed and opens up another leading outside.] BGC: Heya baby... CHICK: Hi... [Big Greggy Cool "accidentally" lifts up his shirt a bit to show his NPWA Cruiserweight Championship belt.] CHICK: And? [Big Greggy Cool smiles and looks down at the belt.] BGC: [Smiling] Eh? So? Eh, eh, eh? CHICK: And? BGC: It's the NPWA's Championship honey. How about we go to the bathroom and fornicate? CHICK: I've seen some wrestling and I'm pretty sure you're not the NPWA Champion. Didja order that thing out the back of a magazine? BGC: Nah nah baby, I won this. CHICK: No you didn't. Are you sure that's not the Cruiserweight belt? BGC: Well... Yeah it is... So you wanna go to my car and copulate? CHICK: Hmmm... I'm supposed to be impressed by a belt designated for men that are too _small_ to wrestle with the big guys? BGC: Well umm... I have no problem wrestling the heavyweights, except for the fact that'd beat my ass. I can't have any unsightly scars on my face, y'know? [The woman turns her back walks away... BGC slickly walks over to another woman smiles and winks. She gives a "And...?" look.] BGC: Hey hey hey, y'know me. WOMAN: In fact I don't... Who are you? BGC: I'm the "Big Cheese" over here in the IIWF. Y'know, the champ and everything. And if you want, you can to come to our private party after the show Saturday. Or I could even call a couple buddies and get ya into a movie. WOMAN: Is that so, asshole? What's your name? BGC: Brody Thunder, ma'am. [The woman unloads a hard right into BGC's jaw. BGC staggers backwards. BGC shakes his head and starts to talk into his tape recorder again.] BGC: Note to self... Win on Saturday. Apparently I might have to get some sorta fame for the women to swarm me. Losing on Saturday could be fatal to love life. Wow... Great thing I'm facing Chris Michaels on Saturday. He's got less "pull" than I do here. If I win on Saturday, I won't have to bring Joe Petrow Diet Pepsis every half hour. Since I'm a winner and everything, I could make El Hijo Del Satanico do that sorta shiznit. And next time Serge Annis gets a case of motion sickness I won't have to clean it up. To win I guess I have to exploit Chris Michaels' main weakness... But being BGC, and I guess I should cheat a bit too. And I can start my way to the top right now by kissing a little bit of ass. [BGC puts away his tape recorder and heads back outside and sees a good looking girl...] BGC: Hey baby! The name's Steve Kowalski and I love you long time!! [BGC smirks as the scene fades out.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The Machines vs. the Harlequins ----------------------------------------------------------------------- LM: Finally, the match you're involved in. The Harlequins, Chaos and Terror... SO: Are in serious trouble. We gave Terror one instruction last week... ONE! Stay out of the way. Instead, he causes us to lose the title match against Team Sychosis. LM: He did not! SO: You've got your ideas, Morton. And we've got ours. There's a lot of payback to be dished out. And the Harlequins are getting theirs on Saturday. [Simon removes his sunglasses and looks into the camera] SO: Listen up, Harlequins. Terror -- you're nothing more than an idiot. A simpleminded fool. You actually give a damn about a chainsaw. Fine... we'll use that against you. We beat Chaos and Tragedy, and this version of the Harlequins are just a shadow of what that team was. Face it. The only thing the Harlequins have going for them are some good-looking women outside of the ring. But that won't help you when you face the best team in the sport. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Trash Talk |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... LM: There were an awful lot of wrestlers who had clips for our Trash Talk section, so we should get right to them. It was sure nice getting this far without getting the set wrecked any worse! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Armitage" Steven Spector ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene: Fifth-floor hotel room balcony in Nagoya Japan, overlooking the famed Nagoya Dome. Seen standing at the edge of the balcony is "Armitage" Steve Spector, overlooking the sights and listening to the sounds of the city below.] SS: Japan.. the place where everything seems beautiful.. [Spector looks up and sees a shooting star racing through the night sky. He closes his eyes for a few moments and remains silent. He then opens his eyes and the shooting star disappears into the distance.] SS: I'd move to Japan.. it's like a second home to me. I've been around.. loving the sights, the sounds, the food.. but, for one night, tomorrow night... It's not gonna be my second home. I understand quite well that I don't have the homefield advantage.. and over the past few days.. I'll be honest with all of ya.. The odds are against me. Once again.. [Spector turns to face the camera and smirks.] SS: Good, I like the odds. Been fightin' the odds all throughout my career. [Spector turns and opens the sliding doors leading back into his hotel room.] SS: Joey Rappoport.. you think I don't get who you are? Think again... You see, let me be honest with you for a little while. I look at you.. and I see me when I first started to break into the industray. I see myself in happier times.. before all the bloodletting began. Each and every night I stepped into the squared circle.. I gave it 110% percent.. And I had successes.. I won titles.. I've proved my point over and over.. And people have taken it away from me. [Spector sits on the edge of his futon.] SS: It's not the fact that I have faced defeat quite a bit in my career.. but it's the fact of HOW I've faced defeat.. it's even the fact of HOW I won some of my matches.. Whether or not somebody interferes for or against ya... it ruins the integrity of one's career when one looks back. It makes one think that 110 percent is not enough at times.. Each and everybody in this tournament has an agenda.. except for me.. I feel like I have 5... 6... 20.. four thousand.. whatever. One of the agendas I've had is to restore credibility in my shallow career. If you've listened to me over the past week and a half.. I've told you more agendas... and looking back at what I've done.. what I've said.. eventually my own career became too much of a bear. And the general public STILL doesn't understand how I feel.. [Spector sighs.] SS: I was someone like you once, Joey.. I'm trying to tell you this right now. But.. if you still can't understand how frustrated I eventually became.. Grab some popcorn.. grab a six-pack.. sit down.. and watch detailed highlights of my career.. I'm tired of trying to explain myself. End the honesty stuff.. let's get to talking about the match on the 19th. [Spector rolls his eyes.] SS: Three words, huh? Rappoport Death Driver... [Spector smirks.] SS: That's some move.. taken out a lot of people with that move, I see.. well I have a weapon of my own. Don't get too cocky if you think you're going to put that move on me... You might be disappointed if you expect that to happen.. You got your fans.. you got the homecourt advantage... You got the 110%.. I have agendas.. I have something to prove to everybody.. I'm trying.. oh how I'm trying night after night to prove to everybody.. and even myself. [Spector shifts his feet and looks up at the ceiling, a look of concern and exhaustion crosses his face.] SS: Well, Joey.. realize this. I noticed last week you were talking about 14 other competitors.. Well, unfortuantely, for 10 minutes of your life you will have to shut out everyone else.. When that bell rings there will only be two people in this tournament... Go ahead... give it your 110%... I'll give that extra one percent for victory. Don't take this as saying you ain't got a chance.. because I'll be honest with you. I think you do. I think you have a great chance of winning this tournament... But you gotta realize, I want the win too... and when it's all said and done.. there will be three words of my own... [Spector grins, then shows one finger to the camera.] SS: Cherry.... [Spector shows a second finger.] Blossom.... [Spector shows a third finger.] Bomber.... [Spector giggles.] SS: And five more words to put this to an end... See you in the ring. [Camera fades out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Joey Rappoport ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera fades in; "Long Way Down" by The Goo Goo Dolls is playing in the background. Joey Rappoport is standing in the middle of Main Street in his hometown of Boston, Massachusetts. Joey has the SJPW Middleweight Championship draped over his left shoulder, and he's busy signing autographs for a few of his young fans. After the last kid waved him goodbye, he faces the camera and begins to speak.] JR: There's nothing really left to say to you at this point, Steve. You and I are going to lock up on the 19th fighting for the right to continue on in the quest to become "King". But take my word on this: I've trained for this match hundreds of times more than I've ever trained before. I did everything I could to get focused for this match, not only physically but also mentally. Roll the tape. [The screen blanks out for a moment. Clips roll of Joey Rappoport in the gym jumping rope and practicing on a dummy, just a few days ago. A focused look is on his face as he pounds the dummy into oblivion; his arm muscles tensing with each blow.] [Camera flashes back to Joey Rappoport on Main Street.] JR: On the athletic side of things, I'm pretty much at the top of my game. But then I said to myself "Hey, being in top-notch physical condition just isn't going to cut it in a matchup like this. So then I started training my mind, in ways I couldn't even believe I did. [Again the screen blanks out. When it refocuses, Joey is found watching videotapes in his house of Steve Spector in his early years. Every move that Steve executes, Joey writes it down on a pad of paper on his lap. His eyes never leave the television.] [Another blackout; the camera again focuses back on Joey on Main Street.] JR: I even took the unorthodox approach. [Clips roll of Joey Rappoport in a hypnotist's office. The doctor's name is Professor Jack Larkin. Joey is lying face up on a reclining chair in his office.] JL: [in an extremely slow, monotonous voice] Listen, Joey... you will now know every reversal for every move in every situation in the ring... let's practice now. Quick... powerbomb! JR: [quickly] Headscissors! JL: Good. Piledriver! JR: Backdrop! JL: A headlock! JR: Belly-to-back suplex! JL: You have done very well, Joey. There is no doubt in my mind that when you step into the ring with Steve Spector, you will fare well. Now, when I clap my hands three times, you will come out of your trance. [Jack Larkin claps three times, very slowly, and Joey sits up.] JR: Thanks, Doc. But that didn't seem to do it... it helped a little bit, but I still feel I'm not on top of my mental game. [Camera blacks out; when it refocuses it is showing a clip of Joey Rappoport in a yoga meeting in the outskirts of Boston.] Yoga Instructor: Joey, you will beat Steve Spector. Now... concentrate, Joey! [Both the Yoga Instructor and Joey take a deep breath, and let out a deep "Ummmmmmm...... ummmmmmm."] JR: I will beat Steve Spector... I know I can. I will. [Again the camera fades, and when the screen comes back into focus, Joey Rappoport is found in an arcade, playing a IIWF arcade game. JR: [speaking as an announcer] ...and Rappoport whips Spector into the ropes... he connects with a back bodydrop that sends Spector through the roof! He's calling for it!!! Could it be? Yes! Rappoport Death Driver!!! He nailed it! Rappoport hooks the leg... one, two, three! [The camera fades out, and it's focusing back on Main Street, where Joey Rappoport is still standing.] JR: You see, Steve. I've tried everything that I could possible do to prepare myself for this matchup, and I think it'll all pay off in the long run. But once the bell rings, and the fans start cheering, all of this talk that you and I have been throwing at each other won't mean a thing. Nothing will stop me from resting until I pin your shoulders down to the mat for the one, two, three. I've tried hypnotism, yoga, heck, even video games. Anything that I figured would help me out in a match like this, I'd do it in a flash and milk it for all it's worth. On Sunday we'll see if all my hard work has done me well, because I know I won't be able to look myself in the mirror if I drop a match of this caliber. In my heart, I know I can beat you, Steve, and I'm confident that the fans do, too. [Joey Rappoport adjusts the SJPW Middleweight Championship on his shoulder, and smiles.] JR: This belt means that I am the one of the top wrestlers in all of Japan. And Japan is the home of the greatest wrestlers in the world. You've gotten a lot of recognition yourself, too, and on paper this match is about as even as any match is going to get. But we're not playing the stats game, Steve. When you step through the ropes on Sunday, you'll be looking right into the eyes of a man who'd like nothing more than to lay you out and prove to the fans that he has what it takes to be in the big time, and win. And for the fans' sake, I hope we have a heck of the match. I'll see you in the ring. [The camera zooms out, and slowly fades to black as Joey Rappoport stands proudly in the middle of Main Street with the SJPW Middleweight Championship on his shoulder.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Jeremy Fullbright ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene: Jeremy Fullbright walking on the streets of Downtown Nagoya, Japan, he has a shirt that says "I'm Not a Tourist But My Uncle in the Bermuda Shorts is." He's wearing a pair of Levi Strauss JEans, and a brand new pair of Reeboks.] JF: I'm in Neh-gow-ee-yah, and frankly, I'm pretty dang tired. I'm strollin' around down here lookin for a decent place to eat. You'd think in a place like this there would be at least one All You Can Eat Chinese Buffet like they serve back home. [Jeremy Fullbright peeks inside a Window, sees a sushi bar filled with Japanese businees persons, and turns his attention back towards the sidewalk.] Sengir, it must be easy on you... to be a wrestler and all... you sleep during the day, and then come out only at night when most of the matches you take place happen... it's like goin to bed, wakin up all freash and ready to grapple. But I still wouldn't wanna be a Vampire just for the sleeping schedule advantage on MatchDay/MatchNight [Jeremy Fullbrights ends up in a sidewalk cafe, and he sees 4 Japanese teenagers playing a card game called Magic: The Gathering.] MTG... the devil's workshop. [Fullbright overhears the game in progress...] Teen #1: [in broken English] Cast I SENGIR THE VAMPIRE on you! Teen #2: hrahrahrahra [Fullbright walks past the game... in astonishment.] JF: I don't friggin believe it, Vampire boy... you got your name from a CARD GAME? Hey Sengir, what's your real name, Lewis Shaver Bishop, or something that nerdy? [Jeremy Fullbright sits down on a bench, and chuckles light heartedly.] I can see it now, in the headlines "YOUNG BOY TORMENTED BY MAGIC: THE GATHERING LOSS, LEGALLY CHANGES NAME TO THAT OF MOST PRIZED CARD" ... HAHAH! I can't believe this, all this time I thought you were the real deal Gothic Hollifield, but here you are just a cheap roleplaying adventrue rip off. [Jeremy Fullbright leans his head back, takes a deep breath, and then faces the camera...] Sengir, you may have all this gothic mess to mentally put yourself over, but now I realize you're just the average Joe Courage.... dedicated wrestler. Sengir, I've given the dedication speech many times before to many different opponents... but I do not think any has needed it as much as yourself... You see, anyone can be dedicated, but it takes a man of my willpower, my integrity to be COMMITED. You see, there's a little sayin backhome about the HAM and EGG breakfast, it goes: 'The Chicken was dedicated, but the Pig was COMMITED.' I hope you take that to heart, Sengir... and learn from your mistakes. Cause when I come crashin through walls, goin through floors, bustin through ceilings and knockin down doors, you ain't gonna be able to cast a Magic: The Gathering spell on me, you wont be able to rip off a move from that game to beat me. Sengir, I'm commited to winning this tournament. I'm commited to whooping you like a dog... Sengir... get ready, cause on Sunday, no gothic ointment will heal you, because I'M COMING TO BRING THE PAIN! [FADE] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Sengir ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade in: the reception of a rather-expensive looking hotel. A blonde woman sits behind the reception desk, she is wearing heavy make up and a red suit. Boys in similar suits are running around, busily trying to fulfil their guests' wishes. The quality of the furniture and the candelabras hanging from the ceiling indicate a very expensive hotel. Suddenly, the door swings open, and through the door we can see that it is snowing heavily. Sengir and Jezra Wagner walk in, both carrying a suitcase. Sengir is a man in maybe his early-twenties, his long black hair is hanging down to his shoulders. He is wearing a washed-out blue jeans and a black jeans jacket over a black "Sisters of Mercy" t-shirt. Jezra is a stunning beauty in maybe her mid-twenties, her whitish-blond hair falls to her shoulderblades. Her pale skin is almost alabaster. She is wearing a white blouse, unbuttoned to reveal the delicate curves of her small, firm breasts. She is wearing a short blue jeans, cut off above her knees, and Roman sandals, accenting her sculpted calves. Her finger- and toenails are painted in a shimmering silver. Sengir walks up to the Japanese receptionist] Sengir: Hello... brrrrrrrrrr.... is this the... what's it called... [He flickers through some papers from his wallet, then pulls out a small pamphlet] Sengir: ...Silver Swan hotel? Receptionist: I am sorry, Sir, but we have to ask you to leave. The Silver Swan has a very strict dress code, and we cannot permit... Jezra: Look, snotnose. We've reserved, and SJPW bigwigs have it all paid for. I'm Jez Wagner, and he's Sengir, you'd better open your baby blues real wide and check your book. Receptionist: I am sorry, Ms.Wagner-sama, Sengir-san, I could not know. Of course, the SJPW officials have instructed us with full coverage of your needs, and we will make sure that your luggage will be brought to your suite. [Sengir wipes some sweat off of his forehead, looking a little displeased] Sengir: Say, Missy, how many stars does this hotel have? Receptionist: The Silver Swan has four stars and we have provided our customers with luxury accommodation since 1837. We have a heated indoor swimming pool and a very exquisite bar with a dancing floor and the SJPW has instructed us to reserve our well-equipped gym for your convenience, we also have luxury... Jezra: Four stars? Will do. Now, where's that boy who was meant to carry our stuff? Sengir: Huh, come on, let's go to our room. I wanna go to the pool. Damn, Japan is hot in April! [A Japanese boy in a red suit walks up, bows to Jezra, and grabs her and Sengir's bags. Sengir chuckles, pets him on the head, and stuffs a few Yen into his suit. All three are walking towards into the elevator, and the boy presses the uppermost button. The doors close, and the elevator starts moving upwards...] Jezra: Hey, boy... yeah, you... what's your name? Boy: Uhm, me? My name is Minoru, Mylady, and I have been instructed to do whatever you ask me... Jezra: Minoru. Cute. I always liked those Japanese names. Hey, Minoru, I was going to take a bath, and I need someone to rub my back... care to join me? [Minoru immediately turns red and swallows hard, gasping for air. Jezra has a big, cheesy grin on her face, and Sengir smirks] Minoru: Uh, I don't think I can... uhm... do that... I... uhm... [Jezra steps next to poor Minoru and teasingly rubs her perfect body against his, stroking gently over his hair. Minoru's face is bright red] Jezra [acting offended]: Minoru... are you trying to say that you don't like me...? Minoru: Nnnngh... no... I mean, uhm, I... who wouldn't... but... [The elevator has reached its destination, and the doors open] Sengir: Come on, Jez, let's try again when that dude has reached puberty. [Sengir and Jezra grab their bags and leave the elevator, Jezra teasingly blows a kiss to poor Minoru as the scene fades to black] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Kabuki Kid ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene opens with a view of the sun high in the sky. The view pans downwards till the top of an ancient Japanese castle is seen with two golden dragon heads on the ends of the roof. The scene continues downwards to a set of doors that open up, the sun light fades away as the scene slowly enters the castle. Slowly the scene goes down the hall till it passes through to more doors, there in the middle of a room full of Japanese decorations and painted murals all over the wall, the Kabuki Kid sits meditating. As the view gets closer he raises his head. He’s wearing his face paint that’s black with a red and white eagle. The wings cover his eyes, and go down his cheeks. The neck and head of the great soaring beast resides on his forehead.] KK: Sengir-san...Sean Watts-san....You two did your thing last weekend. You accomplished what you needed to in order to have a chance at winning the King of the Cruisers tournament. You eliminated the man that was going to be the winner, however, in the process you proved to the fans around the world that you can’t beat the “Ruler of the Airways”. You cost not only myself the chance to continue on in the tournament to face some of the greats in the sport today, but you cheated the fans, the promoters, and yourselves. For this, I can not forgive. One day we will meet again, and Watts-san, the result will be much of the same, you will get destroyed by the greatest highflyer in the world. And, as for you Sengir-san, you are merely kuso to be stepped on and squashed. One day, you too will feel the vengeance of the Kabuki Kid, and that day you will regret ever getting involved in one of my matches. [Kabuki Kid looks back down for a moment then looks back up.] KK: Playboy Ronnie D-san! I had hoped to meet you in the squared circle during this tournament, but that will not be happening now. Tiger Claw-san, I had anticipated our feud continuing in the KotC, but that again has been lost. However, you and I will meet again soon in the SJPW. Youth Gone Wild-san, what can I say, you are also one of the greats I had wish to face, but sadly, that meeting will have to wait. Sengir....Watts....you’ve cost me a lot. You’ve ruined my chances at competing with the best, so I can show to the world that I am, without a doubt the greatest cruiser on the planet. Everybody saw the match. Everybody knows who won. You “Iconoclast” are nothing. You have been beaten by the Kabuki Kid. You have fallen to the “Ruler of the Airways”. This tournament is about becoming a King of an entire division of athletes, and the true King is no longer at part of the equation. So, let the KotC from here on out be known as the “Prince of the Cruisers” tournament, as the King has been cheated and is gone. [Kabuki Kid bows his head and the scene pulls back double time. It quickly retraces the travels it took to get to this point. As it leaves the room, then the castle, the doors shut behind it. Then, the scene goes up the castle, past the two golden dragon heads and back looking towards the sun. Then, it fades to white and red words appear... THE KABUKI KID....”KING OF THE CRUISERS” ALL HAIL THE KING!] [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Sanguinary" Steve Manning ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The empty locker room of "Sanguinary" Steve Manning. Empty, except for Larry Morton, that is. Morton is standing there, looking a little nervous. He's poking around in Manning's locker a little. He gazes in at something Manning has in there, gets a startled expression on his face, and slams the locker shut. It turned out to be good timing, as the locker room door suddenly swings open, and Steve Manning strolls in wearing his usual pair of shredded jeans and a cut-off t-shirt reading, "Powerbomb Fever" on front in white print and "Bad Attitude" on back in red scrawling letters. Manning stops just inside the doorway, staring at Morton as if to say, "You got balls, pal."] LM: Um... uh... Steve. I was just waiting around here for you. I... I wanted to get your thoughts on the King of the Cruisers tournament thus far and... [Manning interupts Dross as he walks towards him.] SM: Shut yer damn mouth, you stupid clodhopper! I want to get your thoughts on why the hell you're in my damn locker room?! LM: Steve, please. I just wanted to get an interview here, that's all. SM: You sure you ain't snoopin' around, hoping to find something else? I keep my narcotics in the truck of my car, sorry to dissapoint you. LM: No... no... Steve, really. All I want is your thoughts on the tournament. [Manning quickly raises his hand, as if to strike Morton, but brings it back down, and nods his head.] SM: Alright then, shoot. LM: Shawn Harrison was obviously a tough opponent for you but... SM: [cutting him off] No. I mean _shoot_. C'mon, Morton. This is the first time anyone's had the balls to come back here and interview me. Let's make this memorable. LM: I don't think... SM: [cutting him off again] Yer damn _right_ you don't think. Forget the Cruiser B.S. for just a second. Why don't you explain to me a lil' comment you had about two months ago, right before Snow Brawl? LM: Before Snow Brawl? I don't know what you're referring to, Mr. Manning... SM: Oh, yes you do. Before I squashed that punchline Maurice McArthur. I believe you called the match... "King of the Jobbers"? [Morton's face turns ashen.] LM: Steve, I didn't mean anything by it. I didn't know much about you. Nobody did. Nobody really knew you could wrestle. I just figured... SM: [interrupting] Your damn lucky I don't slam your head in a locker. Now that we've cleared that up, you can ask me a few of your questions, but you've got a certain amount of time before I just grab you and beat your head in. And that amount of time is a secret. LM: [gulp] Uh... well, let's talk about Shawn Harrison. You treated the match like a joke until the final 2 minutes, and you _still_ managed to move on, although there is some debate to whether or not the time had expired. SM: [giving a grin] Shawn Harrison. What kinda opponent was that? He had a bit of talent... but he was far too easy to intimidate. That's why he lost. He was scared to death of me. Afraid to hit me. Afraid that he'd give me everything he had, and it'd just make me madder and madder and madder until I destroyed him with a single damn swipe of my hand. It was nugatory for him to even keep trying after the first minute of the match. LM: So, are you even taking this tournament seriously? It appeared as if you don't give a flying hoot what happens? SM: Flying hoot? A flying _hoot_. I like that. I don't know how to answer the question, Larry. Everyone knows I'm a clean cut, world class competitor. Everyone knows I love fans, and puppy dogs, and apple pie. If I choose to win this tournament, I'll win this tournament. But for every victory, you really need a motive. My motive against Harrison was to tear the head off a cocky sonuvabitch. I'm not really ravenous when it comes to violence. It can't sustain me throughout an entire tournament. I need something bigger. Maybe I want to become King of the Cruisers just to spite you and your smart-ass "jobber" comments. [Manning shrugs.] SM: Maybe I think it's about time this "Playboy" Ronnie D. character's luck ran out. He looks like he deserves a little step into my territory. He'd be standing on the wrong side of the tracks, Morton, and I'm going off the rails on a crazy train. LM: What about Tiger Claw? You've gotta believe he's the favorite to win this thing. [Manning gets a gleam in his eyes at the mention of the name.] SM: Tiger Claw. Oh, I've heard so much about him. Ol' Quigs lost to his buddy, J.W. Hardin, didn't he? [Manning slaps his forehead.] SM: Oh, wait... that was Brody Thunder, right? LM: [sighs] That was _Casey James_, Mr. Manning. SM: Right, whatever. What is it with all the damn cowboys in the Double Eye, anyway? I told Spreadbury those swinging saloon doors at the entrance of IIWF Towers was a big mistake. We've gotta buncha confused good ol' boys walking around here clinkin' their spurs and wonderin' where the hell those Thompson boys have run off to. But, back to my point. Er... what was my point there, Morton? LM: I believe it had _something_ to do with Tiger Claw... SM: Yeah, that's it. Yeah, he sounds like a real purebred Canadian. There are only three things any good to come out of Canada, and as far as I can tell, Tiger Claw isn't named Moosehead, Gretzky, or Quigley, so I ask you, what the hell is his purpose in life? I've gotta guess, to face _me_ maybe? Claw, if I hadn't had the feelings of fear and intimidation surgically removed, I might be a little timid about speaking about you, or even probably facing you. After all, he's a 3-time Intercontinental Champion. Who am _I_? [Manning gets a sadistic grin.] SM: [screams, which makes Morton jump] YOUR WORST [BLEEP]IN' NIGHTMARE, THAT'S WHO! I wasn't around when you were winnin' all your little titles, Claw. I wasn't around when you and your boys took down the Prez, although I wish I was. But that's the real key there ain't it? All your success came before the IIWF felt my presence, and strangely enough, now that we're both here, your success is gonna come to a screeching, grinding halt! LM: That message will be well-received, I'm sure. Incidentally, were you at all surprised by Timothy N. Turner's comments on Saturday Night? He made mention that he would _find_ Chris Quigley and give him a title shot if he wins the Intercontinental Title. [Manning looks disinterested] SM: Big deal. Like he's even gonna win. And if he does, and he manages to find Quigley, lemme know, I haven't seen or heard from that "troubled loner" wannabe since Snow Brawl. Yeah, walk out on us and your own damn fiance, good job, Quigs. Everyone in the IIWF keeps talkin' about losing family members, family droppin' off like flies, or hoppin' back outta caskets, whatever. Give Quigs a call, he's got some family members he might wanna push off on ya. God knows he don't want 'em for himself. LM: That's unfortunate, Steve. However, I wish you the best of luck and... AGH...! [Manning suddenly wheels around and SLAPS Larry Morton across the face, causing Morton to drop his microphone and hold his face in shock. Manning looks at Morton, an ice cold glare in his eyes contrasting with a strange looking grin on his face. Morton, silenced, simply backs away towards the door, and quickly exits the locker room, as Manning shakes his head, and begins to pound on a nearby locker. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade into a shot of an old quarry. The sounds of metal on stone can be heard as the stone is smashed into smaller fragments. The camera moves in closer to see a man with a muscled physique smashing rocks with a heavy sledgehammer. He turns to face the camera and fans are surprised to see...Timothy N. Turner.] TNT: I bet you are wondering what happened to me. Has my new attitude changed me from being a sophisticated gentleman to a cutter? No. I am here trying to get into the head of Christoper Stonebreaker. What makes him tick? He clearly doesn't have the raw talent needed to make it in the IIWF, let alone as Intercontinental Champion, but there he is. What makes him think he can use Timothy Turner as a stepping stone? I haven't figured that our but one thing I do know is that there is a growing legion of Rocketeers who stand beside me and there is no way we are going to allow some Cajun gutter rat to get between me and the gold. No way. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Benjamins ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene opens on Bobby and Joe Benjamin standing in their ring attire, in front of a large cream-coloured brick wall. Apart from the two talking, there are no other sounds to be heard until the cameraman cues them for the commencement of filming. As he does so, the obligatory, broad Benjismiles are given by the two youngsters] BB: Oh, hi! How are ya? Well, me and Joe here are just takin' a look at this thing called the IIWF Colisseum. It's real big, ain't it? We were about to start walkin' down this big hall with all the locker rooms down it. Y'wanna come join us? [Waves for the camera to follow him, and the camera turns to a view of a long corridor, with many doors down it] C'mon, it'll be cool! [Bobby and Joe start walking quickly and the camera struggles to keep up, ending up filming from a side-on angle, with Bobby the closest to the camera] JB: Hey, by the way, my back's feelin' a lot better, everybody [stretches his back while walking]. Thanks for all the cards and everythin', they were real nice of ya. I'm gonna have to get used to little bumps like that, so don't worry about me, I'll be fine -- I just didn't think it'd be this tough. [laughs lightly] I do now. Thanks again, guys! [Waves to camera] BB: [As he sees a door with Steve 'The Fury' Kowalski engraved on it] We ain't got one of these things [points to the door] just yet, but Prez Spreadbury said that they're on their way -- we don't really mind, just bein' around all these great superstars is enough for us, but it's still like a dream at the moment, and I won't believe that we're actually IN the IIWF until I see our names on those doors. It's just unbelievable. JB: Yeah, I know I've said it a hundred times now, but this is like a dream come true. Seein' all the names on these locker rooms in real-life is fantastic. It's still clicking into my head that I'm [points to himself] one of them. How many other eighteen year olds have got to do this? Not many, I'm sure! BB: Give us a bit of time, and we'll make this our home. We're already gettin' fans, friends, and... enemies... [For the first time, his smile leaves his face] Yeah, d'Artois and Magnusson, that's you guys. JB: [Shaking head] I don't know, bro, what's up with those two. Yeah, we know we were lucky to win, but we did. Why do they have to go and start gettin' all arrogant an' all on us, sayin' that it wasn't actually a match at all? BB: I dunno. That's how the wrestling world works, little bro. People are always lookin' to knock ya down anytime you do something good, guys who get all big-headed like d'Artois and Magnusson there. Guys, ya lost. You should take it like men, not cry-babies. I mean, there ain't no such thing as a 'so-called' official match result, okay? Either it is, or it isn't. If you're gonna say that sorta stuff about your losses, you've gotta say the same thing about your wins, as well. C'mon, you're veterans, you should be better than that... JB: [Shakes head again] I still don't understand it. Y'know, it's just my opinion, an' all, but I don't think a team that's just come into a fed should be sayin' how they're gonna bring it 'new standards of excellence' anyway. [Shrugs shoulders] Well, that's just what I think. BB: [Nodding head] True, bro. I don't exactly understand the way things work, either. I don't know why they're callin' themselves legends already, they ain't proved nothin'. Call us young and stupid, whatever, if you guys wanna rematch, that's fine by us, yeah, we'll fight ya again. Y'see, we ain't worryin' about getting ticks in our win or loss columns just yet. What we're trying to do is get some experience, to earn a shot at the top -- not talk our way to it. Anytime we get a chance to wrestle, we're gonna take it. You guys can wrestle, we've felt how good you guys are, but your attitudes... well, basically they, umm... [With a puzzled look on his face, searching for the right word] well... suck. JB: Last time, we were first-timers. We won't be next time. BB: You think ya can't be beat? I've got news for ya. You can, and you were. Get over it. [Suddenly looks at his brother] Hey Joe, ya hungry? JB: Yeah, I could kill for a burger right about now. BB: Well, let's go look for somethin' to fill our bellies [rubs stomach] then. [Turns back to camera] Guess we gotta go, catch ya later dudes! [gives the camera a 'peace' sign, and while Joe and Bobby walk on, the camera stops]. JB: [Looking back at the camera] Oh yeah... remember: IT'S ALL ABOUT THE BENJAMINS, BABY!! [Bobby starts craning his head in all directions. Then we hear, in fading dialogue, their voices trailing off as they get farther away into the distance] BB: Now Joe... JB: Yeah... BB: How the hell do we get outta this place...? [Fade to black] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Robert D'Artois & Reiner Ver Magnusson ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene fades in the IIWF TV studios. We see two figures standing there. They can be identified as Robert d'Artois and Reiner Ver Magnusson. As soon as they see that the cameras are rolling, they start to speak.] RdA: IIWF people, you are silly people. You pride yourselves in being competitors... Yet, you can't properly compete. You say that you are men of honor, but you don't even know what "honor" means... You say that you are wrestlers... But you don't have a clue about what wrestling is all about. That's such patheticness that we wish to eradicate once and for all from the IIWF tag team scene. You seem to think that you are the best competition of the wrestling world, but deep down in your heart, you know that it's simply not true, that you are lying to yourselves. RVM: Exactly. You see, IIWF, you might want to pretend that we overrate ourselves, but that's just a pathetic excuse in order to ignore the truth that we are saying. You say that we are running down the IIWF just for the sole purpose of "getting over" in this environment... Well, my friends, that not true. RdA: In fact, nothing could be more false. We are simply trying to save you. To save you from your mediocrity... To make you realize your incapacity... And perhaps to even make you quit the wrestling scene altogether, for the simply reason that you could have understood that you can't match the standards of excellence that we bring here in the IIWF. Most of you simply belongs in wrestling obscurity, where you shall be forever forgotten... One thing is sure... None of you should be in the limelight. We are new to this organization, but already, I'm sure that we are recognized as the top wrestlers of this organization... Soon enough, we will be known as the IIWF. We will be the duo who will have brought back wrestling in wrestling's greatest organization. RVM: We will be heroes. The wrestling fans' heroes. RdA: But I know that this task will be long and hard... But we are ready to undertake such a mission. We are ready and we know we can suceed... For the simple reason that we are the best. The other teams are just simple challenges, springboards to our initial sucess, to my initial sucess... To the IIWF World Tag Team Titles. The Benjamins will be beaten, all other teams will be beaten. RVM: In fact, why don't they give us the tag team titles right away!!! RdA: That's a thing that I don't understand... Sure, lowly teams such as the Benjamins, Team Sychosis or the Machines need to prove themselves... They are all mediocre at best. But us??? Why would we need to prove our capacity. We have brought greatness, recognition and admiration to the IIWF tag team division. We have fought in a IIWF ring once. Wouldn't that be enough? The IIWF tag team gold is currently being disgraced and we are the only men who could save this prize from the mediocrity that is currently holding it. RVM: But we'll have to pass trought a bunch of other teams before we will be able to save the division, I'd guess... The people don't understand that we should have the belts for their own good. RdA: Benjamins, we challenged you this past Monday, and I'm sure that you will accept. You aren't competitors, but you seem to pride yourselves in an honor that you don't understand. You will be defeat when the match will come. It will be our debut match here in the IIWF. RVM: And we shall be forever undefeated!!! [Screen fades to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Natural Predators ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade in on Kuyler Greyson, sitting behind a desk, on the phone] KG: Damn it, that's not what I'm asking...look, just keep your eyes open, all right? Fine. Bye. [hangs up the phone, looks at the camera] No sign of Edmund Fitzgerald. Valtharius, you took this way too far. I don't know what makes you think you have the right to wander in unscheduled and try to cripple one of 4-D. You just joined the IIWf, but we stand for something a lot bigger than you. Karachel, better start looking for another protege. This one's going to get broken pretty damn fast. And Mr. Petrow. "Offer Declined." You cite that we tried to get out of our match with you at Ring Wars to get a shot back at the titles we had just lost? Down Boys had two weeks off. Our challenge was for the week before. Since no one can take any responsibility for what the higher ups decide, I apologize. Doesn't mean the offer will ever come again. We all do what we have to, Mr. Petrow. And I expect to see a title shot for my boys from you ASAP. Unless being a "fighting champion" means facing sub-par teams all the way. [fade out] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The American Dragons ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [We open on a shot of Portland, Oregon, as seen from one of the many bridges spanning the Columbia River. It is nighttime, and in the distance, the Portland skyline lights up the night, the City of Roses a jewel in the darkness. Two men lean on the bridge's railing. Their backs to us, but we know who they are by their jackets: the black leather with the curled up green dragon, and the white jacket with the red dragon, wings outstretched. Joe Scalercio and Bob Ivey, the American Dragons, look down as a barge makes its way under the bridge] JS: What bridge are we on again? BI: I don't know. JS: I like it here, though. It's quiet this late at night. Kind of reminds me of home. BI: How? JS: From where I lived, I could here the water lapping in the Bay when it was late at night, and the city was quiet. BI: Hell, there wasn't ANY water near where I come from. JS: Deep in the heart of Texas, my friend. BI: Yep. [Bob spits over the railing] BI: Night Patrol...well, we've got the date set. Four weeks, Birthday Bash. The toughest match around...a Texas Death match. Fight 'till you drop, boys and girls. Already, the bets are coming in. Everywhere where people talk about wrestling, the news is about the first match signed for Birthday Bash, the IIWF's birthday. And no one's giving the American Dragons a chance in hell. JS: I can't blame them. You look at us, the rookies, with a record that would make only the Florida Marlins jealous. Here we are, going up against the veteran tag team. That's what people forget...the Night Patrol is a remix. Garcia's just as green as us. Hell, he's greener! Bob here's been training since he was born, and I'm a All-American and NCAA standout. Me and Bob have been together longer, and we've got more experience working together as a team. In the end, that's what this match is going to boil down to. Teamwork. When I want to give up, when I feel like I just want to die... ...this man here is going to drag me to my feet and keep me going. BI: Patrol, you've made a big mistake...and come Birthday Bash, we're sending you back to the streets...on stretchers. Hell, we may event take you to the streets during the match! The only rule is fight until the doctor says you can't fight anymore. If we wanted to pull you out, drag you dowm I-5, and slam your heads into the concrete support poles, we could! Bottom line. Birthday Bash, we see once and for all who's the better team. JS: By the way...just because we're not on the schedule doesn't mean you all won't see us Saturday night. So keep watching...the hardest working team in the biz is going to take the next step... you all want to watch this. [Both men turn back to the Columbia, showing their dragon logos to the camera] BI and JS: Any team, any time... [Fade out on the yellow eyes of the emerald dragon on Joe's jacket] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Christopher Stonebreaker ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera opens on Christopher Stonebreaker, who is seen sitting in the empty IIWF Portland arena, and the cajun is sitting back, appearing totally relaxed as a number of maintenance personnel can be seen scurrying about, working on various items around the building.] CS: Let's take a look shall we. First, we have a man that I despise, Mr. Steele getting himself eliminated in the Intercontinental battle royal just high enough to make it into the tournament. Steele, I suggest you get yourself set for an early exit, because I'm making you a promise right here. If Marty doesn't finish you off, I will. But then once again, Steele, I suppose I should thank you and those other Di..oops, sorry, they're not exactly that are they? You see, when that little montage of a group that Moxy tried to bring together, you tried so hard to get the people behind you. You tried to show everyone that you stood for what they believed in. And what happened? The truth comes out, and the Discordiacs just fall apart. You see, Steele, no matter how hard it tries, a rose for instance can only be one thing, a rose. And in your case, Steele, well, we can all guess where you fit in on the evolutionary scale. Mota, this past Wednesday night, you may have come out with the W in the record column, but if it's you I have to turn my attention to in this Intercontinental Tournament after I go through Mr. Turner, well Derick, Wednesday was the past, and I'm aiming to be the future of that Championship. But Saturday night, Steele, I'd take a little advice. Give up now, because when it's said and done Steele, I'm going to show everyone precisely what you are when I get you back in that ring. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Deathbringer ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: A dark forest at night. Barely anything is seen as the moonshine is too weak to illuminate the area. Dead and twisted remains of old trees are seen, standing there like guards, not willing to let any intruders cross through the wood. But there is a narrow path leading through the forest, which the camera-man follows, desperatly trying to leave this mysterious place. After a while an old, rusty gate comes into view, which seems to be the entrance to something that looks like a graveyard. At least the dozens of tombstones and crypts indicate that it's certainly not a park which is hidden in the middle of that frightening forest. As the camera comes closer, a sign becomes visible that reads "Stay a while --- Stay forever". All of a sudden the gate opens without making any noise and the camera enters the cemetary. As it moves further into the area, the size of it becomes visible. Tombstones are exchanged by crypts, crypts by old trees and those by tombstones. It again takes a while before a large hall comes into view, a hall that looks like the known mortuary of Deathbringer. And indeed, just a few steps away from the mortuary, right in front of a large crypt, stands Deathbringer's manager, the Blind Guardian. The camera moves towards him, while Deathbringer himself comes out of the crypt, wearing his known attire and holding his scythe in his right hand. He walks over to the Guardian and comes to a halt right beside him. As almost always, it's the Blind Guardian who's the first to speak] BG: There you are. I was sure that ya wouldn't wait too long before you give us a visit. [The Blind Guardian begins to walk up and down in front of that crypt as he speaks on] BG: But just what do you want to hear from me, from us? What is it that you want to know? Why did Deathbringer here interfere into the battle royal, why did he attack Charly Scheffield last Wednesday? Well, first of all let me make one thing perfectly clear: the Whine, Staley, Scheffield and the others were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have been anyone else. Maybe it could have been Annis, or Kowalski, or maybe this Valtharius-guy... Tonight I do not want to discuss everything that has to do with those interferences. Deathbringer'll have enough time to explain what he did tomorrow night. [Deathbringer makes a step towards the camera and now it's his turn to say a few words in his low, growling voice] DB: Yes, I will, so do not take it personally, when we will end this interview right now. I know that you have travelled a long way to enter my realm, but there a plenty of things I have to take care of right now. [Deathbringer turns around and re-enters the crypt. The Blind Guardian looks after him before turning back to the camera] BG: If I just knew what he's going to do... Anyway, you heard it, this interview is over, hope you can wait until tomorrow night, where you'll get answers to _all_ of your questions by the man himself. 'til then! [The Guardian looks back to the crypt, shrugs and walks towards the mortuary, as the scene fades] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Charles Scheffield ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Darkness. Nothing can be seen anywhere. Not a hint of light... not a sign of life. Slowly, however, points of reflected light begin to without warning appear in the view of the camera. It appears as if this is quite a large room... about small aircraft hangar in size yet has many recognizable things. It almost seems as if it is a computer hideaway judging from all the computer display modules and terminals. Static. That is what is seen on the gigantic video wall on one side of this spectacular room. It is comprised of several extremely large television screens in the center, but to the sides there are many much smaller screens. The iridescent glow of static is the only thing lighting up the room. Almost with a flash, each monitor is adorned with a rotating IIWF logo amidst a black background. It seems as if one is looking through the eyes of a creature with compound eyes when looking upon the cluster of monitors each having the same image. The large room is noticeably darker with the new image as well as it does not cast quite as much light as a vision of static. The camera pans slowly to the side as it tilts down, zooming in on a heretofore unnoticed figure. As the camera closes in, it can be seen that the figure is clad in entirely black clothing... presumably shiny leather. Black gloves even cover the figure's hands. Soon enough, the camera is in close enough range to where the figure becomes recognizable as the brown haired Charles Scheffield.] CSc: Greetings. Welcome to my hideaway. [gesturing towards the room] This is where I go when I need to think about what is going on in my life. No... this isn't the "Bat Cave"... this is simply an eccentric rich man's way of bringing his life into focus. [Scheffield's countenance gives naught of his emotions.] This whole thing brings me to Deathbringer. 'Bringer, I _live_ my life in darkness. Your little trek to the dark side is nothing new to me. But I live a different kind of darkness... the darkness of reality. As a result, I have had to play my entire life on intuition. I had to forsee where all my actions would bring me. I have _never_ had the luxury of having every single thing granted to myself. Being born wealthy was possibly my only stroke of luck. I've built my life on skill. Deathbringer, I doubt your little run in with myself on Wednesday War Room has anything to do with any animosity between myself and yourself. You just want to walk to the dark side. Well, that's fine by me... but if you ever need a helping hand, I shall not hessitate to bring you there myself... ...and I don't mean this make believe world of ghosts, ghouls, and spectres... I'm talking about the darkness of reality... something you have probably ignored your entire life. [Pause.] Deathbringer... the last time we met it resulted in a victory for myself by countout. Next time... you shall not have the luxury of being counted out... you shall be out for the count. [Scheffield then walks over to a portion of the room that appears to be lighted by the kind of illumination we are used to. Beneath this light is a protrusion painted a very glossy black, reflecting the light at points where it curves.] CSc: Oh... and one last thing. For those of you who still believe this is a scene straight out of a "Bat Man" movie... well... that's too bad for you. [With that, the camera zooms back a bit and the lump of metal becomes easily recognizable as a double stretched black limousine. Scheffield swings open one of its doors, steps inside, then swings it shut. The luxurious automobile then begins driving away as the camera positions itself behind the car where it can be seen that above this tunnel is marked with a standard illuminated white "EXIT" sign with red letters. The end of the tunnel can be seen opening up slowly and light pours in from what is evidently an afternoon sun. There are many smiling people gathered at the end of the tunnel waiting for Charles Scheffield to greet them.] [The footage ends and the scene is of the partially rebuilt "Countdown" set. The problem is the make shift back wall has fallen on the table where the Machines are sitting. The wall is cracked in half, with the bulge where the table is.] PW: [Muffled] What the hell?! [Two of the "Countdown" crew run over to pull the busted wall off the Machines. The wall jiggles as Simon comes out first.] SO: What happened?! Can't you people do anything right? C: I don't know what happened. The wall just collapsed. [The wall continues to jiggle, and Paul comes out.] PW: This is ridiculous. [The two crewmen and the Machines look at the fallen wall.] SO: What a joke. [Suddenly, two figures run up from behind the four men. Both are wearing jeans and t-shirts with one carrying a two foot cylinder.] C: Wha..... [The two crewmen get pushed off the foot high riser that the "Countdown" set sets on. Simon is the first to turn around as he hears the crewmen yell.] SO: What kn.... [Simon is immediately engulfed by a huge white smoke cloud that pours out of the cylinder being carried by the smaller of the two assailants.] PW: Who?!? [With that said, Paul goes down with a clothesline from the bigger of the two men. Because of the smoke, it's hard to make out who the men are. One of the crewmen tries to break up the situation.] C: Please, you've got to stop....Sho! [A clang is heard as the crewman drops to the floor. Sho Satsuma hit him with the cylinder shaped object.] SS: Nothing is going to stop us, this time! [Because of the smoke it's still hard to make out who's who. A figure scrambles by in the background and out of site.] AN: Sho-kun, I've lost Wong! SS: That's okay, we've still got his pathetic partner. ["CLANG" Sho hits Simon over the head with the cylinder, dropping the smaller of the two Machines. The smoke starts to clear, as Agito picks Simon up, gorilla presses him, and drops him on the backside of the already cracked wall. Simon goes through the wall and to the set floor. Suddenly, a rattling of metal sound is heard.] SS: What in the hell is that? [Sho spins around, and gets greeted by a ladder across the chest. Paul Wong, apparently, went into the studio's janitor closest and pulled out the eight foot ladder and swung it at Sho, connecting and dropping the "ShoStealer".] AN: You're dead! [Agito charges Wong and tackles him to the floor, before Paul could get control of the ladder and defend himself with it. The ladder drops on top of the two combatants. They start to roll around, punching wildly at each other. Suddenly. Larry comes walking back into the studio area from the hallway. He's greeted by a smoke filled studio, with a fallen back wall, that has broken over the "Countdown" desk, with Simon O'Neal pulling himself up from the remnants of the wall, and Sho slowly getting to all fours.] LM: NOOOooooo! Not again!!!! [Suddenly, Agito and Paul rush by Larry, who didn't see them off to the side fighting.] LM: [Moving out of the way.] What the hell is wrong with you?! ["BANG" the view from the camera is now on the floor viewing the brawl sideways. Larry is still in view, and is he ever steamed.] LM: Not another one! That's the last professional camera we had! [The scene changes to the handy dandy hand held camera that was used last week. The camera swings around and shows Paul swinging downwards at Agito who's lying, once again, on the main camera, with a director's wooden highchair. Agito barely rolls out of the way of the arrant swing.] PW: You're going down! ["CRASH" the chair connects with the camera. Sparks fly all over. As Paul looks over at Agito who's getting to his feet, and immediately swings the, now partially broken chair, at Agito and connects. "SMASH" the chair shatters, and unfortunately for Paul doesn't give the desired affect as Agito pushes through it in a running motion, grabs Paul by the waist and knees, picks him up, and runs towards a door, narrowly missing the cameraman.] LM: You bunch of... dumbasses! [The cameraman stumbles, but catches his balance as a huge "SMASH" is heard. He swings around to see where it came from, and what he finds is the door to the janitor's room, where Paul got the ladder, is smashed in, with Agito on top of Paul, punching away at him. LM: [obviously angered] This is incredible. What a bunch of thugs! Get some security down here! [The cameraman quickly swings around to see Simon leap off the desk and nail Sho with a missile dropkick, sending the "ShoStopper" off the foot high riser and on the floor. Unfortunately for Simon, as he gets up and goes over to continue what he started by pounding on Sho, he gets yet another blast of fire extinguisher smoke in the face.] LM: Good grief! Enough! [The cameraman swings around since he can no longer see Sho and Simon in the smoke, and catches Agito falling backwards out of the closest onto the floor, clutching his shoulder. Paul slowly gets to his feet. As he totally emerges from the closest we can see he has a hammer in his hand. Though he's worn out from the fight, he still has a smirk on his face.] PW: You wanted a war? We'll give you a war! [Paul brings the hammer up above his head. Just as he starts to swing downwards he get kicked in the stomach as a last ditch effort by Agito to stop the madman from striking him with the hammer again. Unfortunately, the hammer continues its downward course, with a little less muscle behind it, and hits Agito in the stomach.] AN: Uughh! [Agito stumbles, but doesn't fall to the floor.] PW: What's the matter, Agito? Is all that muscle not doing the job? [Paul grabs Agito by the hair and pulls him to his feet. Agito is still clutching his arm.] PW: [Looking past the cameraman.] Oh, [BLEEP] [Yelling] [The cameraman swings around to see Sho standing at the top of the ladder. His head nearly up against the ceiling. Simon is laying motionless on the desk. Paul runs by the cameraman and hits the ladder, but is too late as Sho leaps off and connects on a Death Leap on the prone Machine. "CRACK" The desk gives away and the two combatants fall to the stage.] LM: [Panicked] FIRE! FIRE! Everybody evacuate, the place is going to burn down! [What Larry is referring to, is a small fire that has started to burn on the edge of the stage, where the main camera is lying next to. The camera is partially ablaze as well.] LM: Get the fire exting.... [Larry stops mid-sentence as he realizes that Sho used up the extinguisher.] LM: We're all going to die! [Paul has Sho in a gorilla press slam position, and slams him on the part of the stage where the small flame is burning. "CRASH" Sho crashes through the one thing that wasn't destroyed last week, the stage, and at the same time smothers the raging inferno that Larry is panicking over.] LM: [relieved] Thank god! [Paul turns and picks up an unconscious Simon, flings him over his shoulder, and makes a hasty retreat, as Agito gets to the busted up stage, wielding the hammer Paul found, with his good arm.] AN: Sho-kun, are you alright? [Sho slowly sits up, with the help of Agito.] SS: Hai! I'll be okay. [Agito drops the hammer, and with his good arm helps pull Sho out of the stage floor and back to his feet. Agito winces in obvious pain from the other arm.] LM: [Smothering the remnants of the fire on the camera with his suitcoat.] You four are from here on out...BANNED from the "Countdown" set forever! [Agito shrugs at Larry.] AN: Whatever... SS: [Sho starts laughing.] Wait till Paul sees his new BMW. I destroyed it. [Sho's laughter is replaced by coughing as they leave the studio.] LM: [looking aghast at the wreckage] I'm supposed to have Eddy Jacks next week... what are we going to do about the set? Folks, don't miss a moment of the action tomorrow night as another edition of "IIWF Saturday Night" comes at you live from... *cough*... the IIWF Coliseum right here in Portland, Oregon... and I'll see you next week. Thanks for watching! [Morton looks around him at the wreckage, and shakes his head as he picks his way through the smoking set out of the shot. Fade.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Gregg Osterhout | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | ghost@frii.com | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+